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catty-words · 8 years

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we don’t talk very much (we just fake being nice) [5/6]

summary: Clarke’s trying to put aside her past and her anger so she can adjust to her new life. Lexa wants to help, but she has to earn Clarke’s trust back first. Set after “Ye Who Enter Here.�� word count: 9,230 author’s note: happy clexa week everyone! i figured this chapter is an appropriate response to today's prompt: canon divergent/fix-it. thank you so, so much to my wonderful beta, @tkross, who made sure this was ready for today even though she has so much going on and is eternally the busiest person i know. please note i've changed the rating of this from teen to explicit...i think you know what that means! i hope you enjoy. :)

[ao3] [last chapter] [first chapter]

~~~

“Thanks again for coming on the trip with me,” Clarke says for the umpteenth time since sunrise as they put saddles on their respective horses in the Polis stables. “This is going to be fun.”

“Certainly,” Lexa says.

Things have been tense between them since their almost-kiss the night of the Azgeda coronation two weeks ago. Of course Lexa’s being gracious as ever, but her overly-polite disinterest almost makes Clarke feel worse about herself than having to face off with an angry Commander.

Her brilliant solution to this newfound stiffness is forcing Lexa to take a day off to escort her to the bay.

“And I hear the view is breathtaking,” Clarke says.

“Yes.”

“Maybe it’ll inspire me and I’ll spend some of the day drawing.”

“Perhaps.”

She’s been quite fond of one-word responses lately.

Clarke tugs the saddle’s billet strap too tight and her horse grunts in annoyance. She pats the mare’s neck apologetically before leading her out of the stall.

Lexa’s already mounted her horse and is staring off into the woods with an unreadable expression on her face.

“I, uh, packed us a picnic so we can stay out for a while.”

With a sigh, Lexa turns to her, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes guarded. “So you said.”

Three words…Clarke resigns herself to the fact that that’s the best she’s going to get for now and climbs up onto her horse.

The journey to the bay is pretty quiet. Lexa rides up ahead of Clarke, who’s too focused guiding her horse through all the underbrush to make any more forced conversation.

After a while, the trees start to thin around them and then they’re gone altogether. Clarke finds herself in a field of tall, reedy grass that tickles her calves as she rides along.

Several kilometers ahead, all Clarke can see is the unbroken blue expanse of water.

She takes a deep breath. The air feels tangy and cool in her lungs.

Off to her left, Lexa’s dismounting and leading her horse back to the tree line.

After drawing in another gulp of air, Clarke follows suit.

“Will the horses be okay here all day?” she asks.

“They’ll graze,” Lexa says. “This way.”

Frowning, Clarke follows after Lexa, who stomps through the tall grass with purpose. They walk down a gently sloped hill to where a small, pebbled beach sits at the bottom..

Clarke is immediately enamored with the smooth, vibrant stones of sage green, cloudy purple, and stormy blue. She crouches down, picks up a pink pebble that’s peppered with black blotches, and rolls it between her fingers as she scans her surroundings.

Up ahead, Lexa’s settling herself under the only tree on the stretch of shore. Clarke watches as she pulls a book out of her travel pack, and, after a second of staring off into the water, starts to read.

A little further along, a rocky edifice juts out into the bay, cutting off Clarke’s line of sight. Moss and vines cling to its side and she sees a series of dark openings along the ground—caves.

Out in front of her, the water unfolds. Waves build and crash at varying sizes and the wind off the bay whips tendrils of Clarke’s hair around her face.

After taking a moment to stare, she falls back onto her bum and tugs off her boots and socks. She shrugs off her bag with her jacket and then wiggles out of her pants—which leaves her in a simple, blue t-shirt and some scanty shorts—before scrambling to her feet and charging full-tilt for the gulf.

The water is colder than she expected, and Clarke lets out a surprised squeal as it splashes up onto her thighs, her abdomen, and in her face. Her feet sink into the grainy sand as soon as she comes to a standstill.

When she turns around to look back at the shore, she notices Lexa staring at her. She grimaces when she’s caught, but doesn’t turn away.

Clarke lifts her hand and waves.

Lexa shakes her head slowly from side to side, and Clarke can just make out the amused smile on her lips. She wants to call out to her, ask her to join, but she knows that’d be pushing things.

With a sad sigh, she pinches her nose and sinks under the water, submerging herself completely.

When she breaks the water’s surface again, she settles on her back, floating with her arms outstretched. She closes her eyes and lets the sun beat down on her.

Clarke’s not exactly sure how much time passes before she swims back to the shore, but she decides it’s time to get out of the water when some dense, gray clouds cut off her sunlight. After taking a moment to dry off and retrieve her clothes and bag from the bottom of the hill, she walks up to the tree. Lexa doesn’t say anything as Clarke sits down to her left, but she does stare at Clarke’s bare legs until Clarke clears her throat softly.

Lexa jolts and immediately focuses back on her book.

Smirking to herself, Clarke pulls her sketchpad and crayons out of her pack and starts drawing the landscape.

By the time the sun’s at the highest point in the sky—trying its hardest to break through the ever-growing haze of clouds—Clarke’s stomach is growling. She retrieves the dried meat strips, nuts, apples, and loaf of bread she brought from her pack and wordlessly passes Lexa her portion.

“Thank you,” Lexa say, just barely audible.

They eat in silence: Lexa using one hand to balance her book on her knee and turn pages while Clarke watches her.

Lexa’s hair is pulled back and off her neck, a mess of braids and curls held up by a red ribbon, so Clarke is able to study the stately line of her jaw unobstructed. She’s imagined kissing the obtuse angle where it starts slanting down toward her chin about a thousand times….

Lexa clenches her apple in her mouth to brush a stray curl behind her ear, eyes unwaveringly focused on her book. The movement makes Clarke startle, and she whips her head around so fast the muscles in her neck twinge.

Just then, a flat, blue-gray creature, the likes of which Clarke’s never seen before, scuttles by on eight legs. She instinctively reaches out for Lexa, clamping down on her forearm and gasping out loud.

“What is that?” she asks, watching with wide eyes as it glides toward the shoreline.

“A crab,” Lexa answers and then pats Clarke’s hand once.

She obediently disengages and asks, “What does it do?”

Though she doesn’t take her eyes off the crab, she can practically feel Lexa’s amused exasperation.

“Exist within the food chain.”

Clarke scoffs at her and reaches for her sketchpad. “I read enough about earth biology on the Ark to know it’s never that simple…I’m going to get a closer look.”

“Watch the pincers,” Lexa says.

Clarke laughs at the random advice but is immediately chastened when she walks up to the thing and sees its sizable claws.

She backs away several steps before sprawling out on her stomach, settling in to observe. The crab darts around and picks at the green plants growing through the pebbles for several hours, and Clarke practices sketching the outline of its body and the shape of the unnerving pincers until she gets them right.

As the day wears on, the shoreline starts to inch back further and further, and she finds another fascination: tide pools.

She’s been sitting cross-legged, leaning over a small puddle with two slender, neon-yellow fish and a handful of miniscule tadpoles for some time before Lexa crouches down beside her.

When Clarke looks up at her in shock, she shrugs. “You were barely breathing. I was worried.”

Clarke lets out a breathy laugh and pats the ground.

After a moment’s hesitation, Lexa sits.

They watch the two fish swim in circles around each other in silence.

Even though there’s plenty of awkward tension, the moment seems significant somehow—it feels like an olive branch. Maybe their relationship isn’t irreparable. Maybe Clarke can atone for her selfishness and they can go back to sharing confidences and burdens and, well, everything.

It takes her a second to work up the courage to glance over at Lexa, but once she does, she finds her already staring.

Lexa’s cheeks go pink when their eyes meet and her throat bobs with a hard swallow.

Clarke’s stomach gurgles with nerves, but she licks her lips and takes a deep breath. “Lexa, I—”

A drop of water plunks onto her forehead and dribbles down her cheek, cutting her off. Both girls look up as a few more droplets fall from the sky and hit their skin, and then, all of a sudden, it’s storming—rain and hail pelting down relentlessly.

“Jok,” Lexa hisses before scrambling to her feet and running back to the tree.

Clarke follows, scooping up her clothes and bag before shouting, “Over here!”

Her brain is in overdrive, trying to process everything at once, but she still manages to lead Lexa into the safety of a cave.

They pause in the mouth and look out at the peculiar weather. “Huh,” Clarke grunts after a moment. “Do you think our horses are okay?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Are you suggesting we go back out there?” Clarke asks, incredulous, just as a bolt of lightning streaks through the sky. It’s followed quickly by a boom of thunder so massive, it makes Clarke’s teeth chatter.

“I suppose we’ll deal with the horses once the storm clears. Till then, we should gather as much kindling as we can and start a fire.”

They find a handful of dry twigs and some not-so-dry sticks, moss, and dead leaves around the cave opening.

“Well, it’s not much,” Clarke says, “but once we get it lit, we can get a torch and cover more ground.”

“Good idea,” Lexa says. “What we have now will hardly last us.”

Clarke nods in grim agreement and fishes the book of matches out of her bag.

After a couple failed attempts to get fire to catch to the damp kindling, she pounds her fist into the ground.

“This isn’t working, and I only have so many matches.” They’re silent for a second, holding each other’s sullen stare, before Clarke snaps her fingers. “Wait, give me your book.”

Lexa’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Why?”

“Because we need something that’ll burn easily.”

Her nostrils twitch. “Clarke, do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do?”

Clarke sighs heavily.

“You are asking me to light fire to one of the last known print books in existence. Less than a hundred tomes survived the nuclear apocalypse, and I have already subjected this one to water damage,” Lexa’s voice is low and fierce as she hugs the book to her chest. “You would have me burn it, too? Back in the days these books were written, burning texts was an affront to intellectualism, to curiosity, to the pursuit of knowledge!”

“Just let me see it, drama queen,” Clarke says, tugging the book from Lexa’s grasp.

She watches, tense and ready to snatch the hardcover back, as Clarke flips through the damp, crinkled book.

“As I suspected,” she says, turning to one of the very first pages and holding up the book with a smug smile. “A couple of them are blank.”

“By ripping those pages out you are still defacing a precious, irreplaceable artifact,” Lexa grumbles under her breath as Clarke does exactly that.

Once their meek fire is finally burning, Clarke ventures into the depths of the cave. She brings back some drier branches and dead leaves, which she sets aside for stoking.

Lexa’s sitting cross-legged, as close to the fire as she can be without getting on top of it, and running her fingers over the jagged remains of the pages Clarke ripped out of her book.

Clarke shakes her head, smiling fondly to herself, and wordlessly takes her place on the opposite side of the fire. She lets her head fall back against the cave wall and watches as the rain and hail continue to plummet down with impressive ferocity. Wind whooshes past the cave, making a low, morose howling noise echo around them.

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” she asks.

“Could be hours, could be overnight,” Lexa says. She’s back to speaking to Clarke with calculated indifference, and Clarke wonders what went through her head while she’d been searching for more tinder.

Whatever it was, it’s clear Clarke missed her moment. Nature brought a flood and swept away her olive branch.

She hangs her head and fiddles with the straps of her backpack.

Except, no, she won’t accept that. Lexa deserves an apology…they’re being forced to share a small space, possibly for several hours…they’re not likely to have the privacy they do again any time soon. Clarke’s resolve strengthens.

“Listen, Lexa, about the other night in Azgeda, I—”

“Don’t, Clarke.” Lexa cuts her off right away, sounding tired. “You don’t owe me an explanation. We feel different things about each other.”

“That’s just the thing, though,” Clarke starts again.

Lexa talks over her. “I will not lie to you, say I’m fine with it. You would see through me anyhow. That’s why, as you may have noticed, I have been forcing some distance between us. I don’t want you to feel as though you owe me anything. This weakness is mine to bear, to deal with and control.”

“Dammit, Lexa, stop talking!”

Lexa’s mouth clamps shut.

“Actually listen to what I’m trying to say because you’ve got it all wrong.” Lexa looks like she’s about to protest again, so Clarke holds up her hand and continues. “I owe you more than I could ever repay, Lexa. Y-you’re the reason I’m alive right now. I owe you my sanity and the safety of my people…and an apology. I never meant to make you think my feelings for you were anything less than what you feel for me. You have to know that.”

Lexa’s nostrils flare and her eyes darken with anger—not the reaction Clarke’s expecting. “How could I, Clarke? After everything we’ve shared, you still turn away when I…,” she breaks off, shaking her head. “Your actions speak louder than any words you could offer, Clarke. We should both accept that this is not meant to work. Perhaps it’s better, more prudent for our people, that we let it go.”

“No! How could that possibly be better?” Clarke leans forward, anguish bubbling in her stomach. “You say actions speak louder than words, but you’re not paying attention to the right actions. I made you a present for Badannes Sintaim. I defended your honor in front of the council. Can’t you see how all the good things outweigh that one slip up?”

“…Can you?”

Clarke feels her cheeks burn and she ducks her head in shame. “Okay, you have me there.”

“That is not an answer, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice wavers, thick with chagrin.

She swallows and rubs at her neck. “I swear I thought I had put that night at Mount Weather behind me. I’ve been defending your decision to other people, and I know I’d have done the same thing in your position. But for some reason…”

“You cannot forgive me for the personal transgression,” Lexa concludes quietly.

Clarke nods—hates herself for nodding.

They sit in pained silence for a second.

“It’s just,” Clarke says, desperate to find the right words to explain. “I trusted you so completely. I wanted us…to triumph, I guess. Show everyone who doubted us that Sky People and Grounders could work well together and accomplish great things. And,” Clarke forces herself to look up, to find and hold Lexa’s gaze. “And I wanted a future with you. It all seemed within our grasp.”

“And then I betrayed you,” Lexa says.

“When I think about it rationally, I know it’s completely unreasonable for me to have expected you to choose a girl you knew for a handful of weeks over your people—the people you’ve sworn to lead and protect to the best of your ability. But when I’m being honest with myself, I know that I wanted…I was hoping…”

Lexa waits patiently, her chest unmoving and her eyes wide.

A tear slides down Clarke’s cheek as she says, “I was hoping you’d have chosen me.”

Lexa’s lips part and her eyes glisten with understanding. She puts her book aside and crawls over to Clarke, kneeling next to her but maintaining a few inches of distance.

Once she’s close, Clarke can see that she’s crying, too.

“I want to have chosen you. I want to be in a position where, even now, I’d be able to make that very decision.”

Clarke reaches out to cup Lexa’s cheek, and her heart swells when she doesn’t pull away. “I understand that you couldn’t.”

“The Maunon and the Reapers terrorized my people for decades. I did not think wiping them out was a possibility. It seemed wiser to ally myself with them.”

“I know.”

“Were I allowed to lead with my heart, there would have never been a question. It would have been you, Clarke.”

“I know. I know.”

“Do you really? Here?” Lexa touches two cool fingers to Clarke’s forehead. “And here?” Then her heart.

“Yes,” Clarke says, letting the last of her resentment and hurt and hesitation go so she can truly mean it. She palms at Lexa’s hip, trying to get her to come closer.

Lexa yields, but only slightly, scooting just close enough for her knee to brush against Clarke’s thigh.

“I swear I will continue to atone. I will do everything in my power to show you I—”

Clarke, impatient and greedy and ready, doesn’t let her finish. She slides the hand on Lexa’s cheek around to tangle her fingers in the soft curls at the nape of her neck and pulls her in for a kiss.

Lexa wobbles, caught off guard and a bit unsteady, before letting out a relieved sigh into Clarke’s mouth, gripping her shoulder, and pressing into the kiss.

Clarke feels like she’s being cracked wide open, brimming over with every emotion she’d stuffed down or compartmentalized in the last several months. The fear and hatred and loneliness and regret no longer fit inside her because Lexa’s compassion, Lexa’s respect, Lexa’s devotion…it’s all being poured into her, filling the empty cracks and buoying up everything that’s left—all the hope and goodness and love.

And, though the storm rages on outside, Clarke can only focus on the way Lexa pants—breathless and needy—as she uses her tongue to trace the shape of her lips, savoring the salty drops of rainwater.

Though their fire struggles to keep burning in the whistling wind, Clarke only feels the heat of Lexa’s body as, after some urging and tugging, she straddles Clarke’s lap and threads her fingers through Clarke’s hair, brushing the lobes of her ears and making her squirm.

Lexa’s hips fit perfectly into the curve of her palms and she gives a possessive squeeze. Lexa’s responding moan reverberates through her chest.

They both break away from the kiss at the same time, gasping for breath. When Clarke is ready to find Lexa’s lips again, though, Lexa ducks her head, nuzzling into the crook of Clarke’s neck.

Unfazed, Clarke pushes her fingers up under the hem of Lexa’s shirt to trace the length of her spine and sprinkles kisses along her jawline.

Lexa’s laughing breathlessly into Clarke’s ear, sending a pleasant tingle from the crown of her head to the pit of her stomach.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, lips pressed against the skin of Lexa’s cheek.

Lexa sits back and studies Clarke’s face, her eyes wide with wonder. “Nothing. There is nothing funny about this moment,” she says with a mystified smile.

“You are a very complicated woman,” Clarke says with a smirk as she slides her hands around Lexa’s body to cup her ribs, brushing her thumbs along the soft, sensitive skin just under her breasts.

The awed smile turns into a tiny ‘o’ of delight and Lexa’s eyes flutter shut.

“I’m not laughing from amusement,” she whispers, her entire body quivering as Clarke raises goosebumps on her flesh. “I simply feel…too full not to laugh.”

Clarke’s hands still.

“That sounds foolish, doesn’t it?” she asks, peeking out from under her lashes.

“No,” Clarke assures. “No. I just. I know exactly what you mean.”

“You do?”

Lexa’s eyes are bright and she looks so giddy. Clarke sees the remnants of a younger Lexa—a kid with the same innocence and idealism she had back on the Ark—and, before her mind catches up with her tongue, she whispers reverently, “I love you.”

Lexa gasps and then Clarke’s being showered with gentle-yet-purposeful kisses. “I love,” kiss…, “you,” kiss…, “too.”

With harmonious laughter, the girls slide down onto the cave floor in a tangled mass of limbs.

Outside, the storm carries on.

~~~

A few hours later, the kisses have slowed. Lexa and Clarke are curled together on the cave floor, and, though they’re not quite sleeping, they haven’t said anything since exchanging I love you’s.

All either of them has left to say is more easily communicated with a gentle caress or stolen kiss.

Sometime in the midst of the blissful haze, the storm stops.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispers into her hair, stirring from her restful trance as a symphony of crickets crescendos outside. “I think it’s safe to go back now.”

“Mmm,” she hums in agreement, tilting her head back to smile sleepily at Clarke. “I believe you’re right.”

After lingering a few minutes longer, they pack up their things and walk out onto the moonlit beach.

The ocean is memorizing, glassy in the limited light, and Clarke pauses to stare.

Lexa steps behind her and wraps her arms around her waist. “This was a truly unforgettable day,” she says, nuzzling her nose into the hollow behind Clarke’s ear.

The sensation and the words ignite a fire inside her.

“We should come back here soon, and, y’know, actually spend the day together instead of pouting at opposite ends of the beach,” Clarke says, forcing her inappropriate urges to the back of her mind.

For now, anyway.

“I’d like that,” Lexa says. After a moment, she adds, “And I was not pouting.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Whatever you say.”

Lexa huffs in her ear but doesn’t push the subject.

They stand in silence for another moment before she pulls away from the hug and slips her hand into Clarke’s. “Are you ready to go back?”

Clarke nods slowly and allows herself to be pulled along by Lexa, who is much more familiar with the path back to their horses.

The short trek tuckers her out. She’s hit with her exhaustion all at once, her mind full of half-formed and dazed thoughts, so she’s barely even fazed when there’s only one horse waiting for them.

“I imagine they were spooked by the storm,” Lexa says, approaching the remaining horse cautiously, her hand outstretched. “We’ll have to share.”

“That is the opposite of a problem,” Clarke says immediately, her tongue loose in her sleepy state. She grins suggestively before she’s overcome with a yawn.

Lexa cocks an eyebrow at her, eyes bright with amusement. “And it’s probably best if I do the navigating.”

“Fine by me.”

After tightening the saddle and bridle, Lexa hoists Clarke onto the horse’s back, unties the lead from the tree, and then pulls herself up into the leather seat. “Hang on,” she advises.

Clarke doesn’t need to be told twice. She scoots forward so that Lexa’s back is flush against her chest and wraps her arms around Lexa’s waist. The pinky of her left hand nudges under Lexa’s shirt and rubs teasing circles along the soft length of skin below her belly button.

Lexa shivers—but doesn’t ask her to stop—and clicks her tongue twice to urge the horse onward.

As they plod along the dark trail, Clarke nuzzles her face into Lexa’s shoulder, her nose nudging aside curly tendrils of hair that cling to Lexa’s neck. She smells amazing: like humidity hanging thick in the sky before it rains and smoke wafting from the tenacious embers of a slowly dying fire. It chases all thought from Clarke’s head and lulls her into a hypnotic state.

They ride in silence for a long while before Lexa asks, “What is on your mind at this very moment?”

Clarke inhales deeply and her eyelids flutter open. She’s about to answer ‘nothing at all’ when she realizes that’s not exactly true.

“Do you remember when you kissed me?” she asks.

“Of course. I’ll not be quick to forget,” Lexa says.

“I was thinking about that.”

Clarke can hear the smile in Lexa’s voice when she asks, “Any detail in particular?”

“Not really. I was mostly thinking…,” she breaks off with a quiet, self-derisive laugh.

“What?” Lexa asks quietly.

“I was thinking that, even then, I misled you…because I didn’t want to face the truth about my feelings for you.”

Lexa sits taller in the saddle and clears her throat. “Which were?”

“When I told you I wasn’t ready for you, that wasn’t right. It was more like…,” Clarke gulps, tugs Lexa even closer, and places her lips right next to her ear. “More like I was scared by how ready I was. You know?”

A soft whine rumbles up from Lexa’s chest and escapes as Clarke kisses the edge of Lexa��s jawline, right in the spot she’s always wanted to.

“I had a similar revelation, except mine spanned several days,” Lexa says, and Clarke can feel the thudding of her heart all throughout her body.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Though I’ve never lived through the experience myself, I imagine it felt quite a bit like hurdling in a dropship toward earth.”

“So…terrifying and deadly. You know, your wooing skills could use a little work.”

Lexa laughs and Clarke closes her eyes, savoring the sound.

“No, silly. I mean that it felt…inevitable.”

“Inevitable?”

“Right. It was as if the gravity of your soul was so massive, I had no control over myself. I was sucked into your orbit and that sealed my fate.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Clarke’s not really sure what to say, so she just pushes her face into Lexa’s hair and inhales.

“Falling for you was also like falling from the sky in the sense that it happened in an instant,” Lexa says after a bit. “And yet it was like time slowed to a crawl. The moment became infinite, stretching on forever in all directions. You are all-consuming, Clarke of the Sky People.”

Clarke’s cheeks burn at the comment. “You take up a fair bit of headspace yourself, Heda.”

Lexa’s silent, but Clarke can feel her gratitude and relief without needing to hear her words.

They make the rest of the journey in contented silence—earth and sky united by inevitability.

~~~

“Well, this is where I get off,” Clarke says once they reach her room.

There’s no telling how late it is, but the rest of the tower seems to be sound asleep.

Lexa bows her head. “Sleep well, Clarke.”

When she starts to walk away, Clarke scoffs and catches her by the wrist. “Are you freaking kidding me?” she asks before stealing a peck on the lips.

There’s a surprised smile on Lexa’s face when she pulls back. “Right…no need for formalities.”

“We can be as unprofessional as we want,” Clarke says, waggling her eyebrows.

“Well, no, I wouldn’t say tha—”

Clarke kisses her again before she can finish her sentence.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” she asks once the kiss has concluded.

Lexa bites her lip and stares longingly at Clarke’s mouth before nodding. “Of course.”

Once she’s inside, Clarke strips off her damp clothes and slips into a robe. Her exhaustion is coming back tenfold, but going to bed soggy and smelling of musty cave isn’t exactly appealing.

She grabs her bar of soap and a towel before padding down the hallway to the bathing chamber.

Since it’s probably the only time she’ll have the place all to herself, she dawdles soaking in the tub and letting the steamy water return her body to a normal temperature. Then she takes her time drying off and getting ready for bed.

She’s just slid under her covers—clothed in a thin long-sleeve shirt and a pair of shorts—and is about to blow out the candles around her bed when there’s a soft knock at the door.

Of course it’s Lexa, also freshly bathed. She’s wearing a nightgown Clarke’s compelled to describe as slinky and an adorably nervous smile.

Clarke can’t help it. She bursts out laughing.

Lexa’s face falls. “What?”

“It’s nothing, just…Commander Lexa, are you trying to seduce me?”

“I—I mean…that is...I would not want to…yes. Yes, I am.”

“Get your butt in here, then,” Clarke says—exhaustion forgotten—and grins so wide her cheeks pinch.

Lexa ducks her head, cheeks turning pink, and trips into the room.

“This is a bit strange,” she says, bouncing up on the balls of her feet.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Clarke says, closing the door and stepping in front of Lexa. She tangles their fingers together and rises on her tip-toes to give her forehead a kiss.

“Okay,” Lexa says, raising her head to grin impishly. “Still, there is the small matter of you derailing my plan. So, how do you wish to proceed, Clarke?”

“We could start with you coming to bed with me,” she whispers, her voice low and gravelly.

When Lexa nods, Clarke leads her backward through the room. She slides up onto her mattress without taking her eyes off Lexa and moves till she’s sitting cross-legged on the far side.

Lexa gathers her skirt into a fist—Clarke’s eyes are immediately drawn to her upper thigh—and joins her, draping the nightgown over her lap once she’s settled.

Clarke traces the valleys of skin around her exposed kneecap with one finger and quirks an eyebrow at Lexa.

“So,” she says.

“So,” Lexa responds.

“What exactly was your plan?”

Even in the soft light, Clarke can see the flush crawl up her chest. “Well first I was going to comment on the chill in the air. You know, as a way to establish that we’d be spending the night together.”

“Uh-huh. That is how the clever kids are doing things these days,” Clarke says, grinning slyly.

“Mhmm. Then, once we’d gotten comfortable, there’d be kissing.”

“Is that so?”

Lexa hums, her eyes darting down to Clarke’s lips. “Lots of kissing,” she confirms.

“And then what?”

“That’s as far as my plan goes. I was expecting things to progress naturally from there.”

“Sounds like there’s still time to execute it, then,” Clarke says, shifting so that her knees are pressing down onto the tops of Lexa’s.

Her eyelids flutter closed and her hands grip the bottoms of Clarke’s thighs. “If you’d like,” she whispers.

Clarke doesn’t bother gracing that with a response. She cups Lexa’s cheek and guides her in for a kiss.

Lexa moves at a snail’s pace, pulling away to peck Clarke’s nose every time she tries to deepen the angle or trace the curve of Lexa’s bottom lip with her tongue, and Clarke quickly gets impatient.

After allowing Lexa to play her game for a few minutes, she moves her hands to Lexa’s waist, fists her nightgown to anchor herself—unwilling to break the kiss—and wraps her legs one at a time around Lexa’s back. She hooks her feet together and scoots into Lexa’s lap with a desperate whine.

Lexa laughs into Clarke’s mouth and smooths her palms up her sides before letting them rest on Clarke’s shoulders. “Someone’s eager,” she says as Clarke places nippy kisses down the length of her jaw.

“Well duh,” Clarke says in Lexa’s ear…right before sucking on her earlobe.

With a shuddering breath, Lexa’s head falls back, granting Clarke full access to her neck, which she happily starts exploring.

As soon as Clarke teasingly traces the neckline of Lexa’s nightgown with her fingertip, though, Lexa catches her hand.

“Clarke, wait.”

“Why should I?” she asks before sucking hard on a throbbing vein.

“B-because,” Lexa starts, struggling to form words, “I want—.”

She breaks off with a moan when Clarke sinks her teeth into Lexa’s skin.

“I want, too,” Clarke says, her voice muffled around a mouthful of Lexa.

Panting, she shifts so that Clarke has to get out of her lap and kneels on the bed. “Do you trust me?”

Clarke blinks, confused. “Of course.”

“Take off your shirt and lay on your stomach in the center of the bed.”

She raises her eyebrows at the command.

“It is all part of the plan,” Lexa assures.

“I thought you didn’t have any more plan.”

“Clarke,” Lexa says.

Laughing at her whiny tone, Clarke grabs the hem of her shirt and lifts it over her head in a smooth motion.

Lexa gulps when she’s faced with Clarke’s bare chest, and Clarke’s skin tingles under the obvious desire in her stare.

“Still want me on my stomach?” she asks, cocking her head.

After a moment longer of staring, Lexa forces her eyes up to Clarke’s and nods.

Grabbing a pillow to set under her chest, she spreads out onto the bed. Lexa stands to give her room.

The mattress shifts under her as Lexa gets back on and then a weight settles over Clarke’s upper thighs.

With a gasp, Lexa ghosts her fingertips over Clarke’s lower back. “What’s this?”

It takes Clarke a long moment to realize what Lexa’s talking about. She’d all but forgotten about her tattoo.

“Oh, um,” she says, trying to turn around. Lexa places one firm palm against her back, though, and uses her other hand to trace the perimeter of the inky blotch. Clarke hugs the pillow tight and sighs. “It’s a tattoo.”

“I had figured that much on my own,” Lexa says. “When did you get it?”

“After that run-in with my fellow council members.”

Lexa lets out a soft murmur of understanding. “Is it…is it what I think it is?” she asks in awe.

“Yes,” Clarke says.

Though she’d sketched the image of the Trikru symbol created by negative space in a starry night sky hurriedly at the tattoo parlor, the woman who’d drawn it on her skin made it look exactly as it had in Clarke’s head.

“It’s magnificent—the blending of two worlds.”

Clarke’s heart thuds hard in her chest and she nods, her hair tickling her shoulders. It never ceases to amaze her how much Lexa gets without Clarke saying a single word.

Lexa shifts down her legs and plants a kiss in the center of her home clan’s icon at the base of Clarke’s spine.

Clarke shivers.

She doesn’t stop there, traveling up Clarke’s body and placing a tender kiss over every vertebrate in her spinal cord. Her fingers find the empty groves of Clarke’s rib cage and grip tight.

The moan that escapes Clarke is embarrassingly loud, though it doesn’t faze Lexa in the slightest. When she reaches the nape of Clarke’s neck, she nudges her hair over one shoulder with her nose and then nips at the skin behind Clarke’s ear.

Clarke closes her eyes and focuses on the feeling of Lexa’s mouth as she spreads around wet kisses. She’s panting softly, her hot breath teasing Clarke’s every nerve ending, and Clarke’s never felt so alert and so positively disoriented at the same time.

She lets out a whine of protest when Lexa’s mouth disappears—she’s pushed herself up into a sitting position—but at the soft thud of Lexa’s nightgown hitting the floor, the whine turns into a needy groan. She tries to turn and take in the view, but Lexa’s once again insistent that Clarke stays exactly as she is.

She tuts and holds her in place with a steady palm between her shoulder blades.

“Lexaaaa,” Clarke whines.

With teasing laughter, Lexa settles herself over Clarke’s body once more. Her warm skin slides over Clarke’s own and she can feel the points of Lexa’s nipples against her back.

It suddenly feels as though molten lava has pooled between her legs.

“We have all night, Clarke,” Lexa says, her voice smooth and tantalizing, “and patience is a virtue.”

Clarke huffs, trying to mask her mind-numbing arousal as irritation, but Lexa sees right through her. She grazes one clipped nail down the length of Clarke’s spine, and Clarke can practically hear her grinning as her flesh pimples from the backs of her arms down to her buttocks.

Clasping onto Clarke’s hips for leverage, Lexa scoots down her legs. Tendrils of her hair tickle at Clarke’s skin as she leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses from the panther scratch scars on her shoulder to the dimples on her lower back. She then ghosts over the lush curve of Clarke’s bottom before tracing the hem of her shorts around her upper thighs.

Clarke squeezes her eyes shut and bites back a whimper.

“This is torture, you know.”

“I know,” Lexa says, smug as hell, and slips her fingers into Clarke’s pants to tease the skin where her ass curls over her legs. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

“I’m counting on that,” Clarke says, breathless, as Lexa sucks on a patch of ticklish skin along the inside of her thigh into her mouth.

Clarke lets her make several more circuits up and down the length of her body, covering her with well-placed kisses.

By the time she stops her, Clarke simply can’t take the teasing anymore. She feels as though her very bones are trembling.

“Lexa,” she says, trying to flip onto her back.

“Clarke,” Lexa replies, a warning in her voice.

“You’ve had your fun,” Clarke says. “Now it’s my turn.”

“Oh?” She gets off Clarke’s thighs and folds herself into a sitting position next to her, letting Clarke move off her stomach. Finally.

She takes a moment to stretch and appreciate Lexa topless. She’s lean with sinewy muscles in her arms and stomach and thighs, and—much to Clarke’s exasperation—she’s still wearing a modest pair of shorts.

There’s a raised, long-healed scar that cuts across her bellybutton, but other than that, her skin looks indulgently soft.

“Yeah,” she says, licking her lips and meeting Lexa’s amused gaze. “I’ve picked up on the rules of your game and I wanna try my hand.”

“No cheating,” Lexa says, grinning.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Clarke says, smirking back and moving to the edge of the bed.

With one last pointed raise of her brow, Lexa takes Clarke’s place.

Clarke straddles her ass and looks down upon the expanse of Lexa’s back as her lips part in awe.

“Pretty,” she says, almost to herself, and traces the tattoo that tumbles down the length of Lexa’s spine with one fingertip.

“Thank you,” Lexa whispers.

“What is it?”

Lexa silent for so long that Clarke assumes she’s not going to answer.

“It’s a reminder,” she says at last. “A reminder that the path to power is not traveled alone. Many lives must collide to make you who you are.”

“That’s a hefty reminder for a bunch of little circles,” Clarke says, smiling to herself as she traces the two smallest ones where they sit in the dip at the base of Lexa’s backbone.

Lexa doesn’t answer.

After taking another moment to admire the landscape, Clarke gathers Lexa’s hair in her fist and gives a sudden tug.

Lexa arches off the bed with a gasp and Clarke leans into her, licking the shell of her ear and teasing her teeth along her earlobe.

“Clarke,” Lexa says, her voice caught somewhere between a reprimand and a moan.

“Sha, Heda?”

Lexa’s eyes flutter closed and she swallows hard.

Clarke watches her throat bob with a satisfied smile.

“What did I say about cheating?” she manages to say in a breathless voice.

“I’m not cheating,” Clarke says, kissing her way down a vein in Lexa’s neck. “I’m simply putting my own spin on the rules.”

She hums, clearly not convinced.

“Was I wrong in assuming there’d be bonus points for the most creative use of tongue?” Clarke asks, low and seductive, right in Lexa’s ear.

Her lips part and she exhales with a shudder.

“Well?”

“Proceed,” Lexa mouths.

“Sha, Heda.”

Clarke releases Lexa’s hair from her grasp and gives her a second to shift back into a comfortable position before raking her nails down Lexa’s back and raising puffy red lines on her skin.

Lexa cries out in stunned pain, but, given the way her hips jerk under Clarke, she’s pretty sure it’s also a cry of pleasure.

With a grin, Clarke leans over her and blows cool, soothing air on the scratches.

Lexa squirms.

“Not so fun on the other side, is it?” Clarke asks.

“I’m enjoying myself plenty,” Lexa responds through gritted teeth.

Clarke laughs and then pushes her hand into the hair at the nape of Lexa’s neck, cupping Lexa’s skull as she scatters sloppy, tongue-heavy kisses around her muscular shoulders.

She’s not nearly as gentle as Lexa had been. Instead of soft caresses and sensual kisses, Clarke grips Lexa so tight her fingers leave behind indentations and she uses her teeth as much as her lips to tease at her skin.

By the time Clarke’s tasted every visible inch of Lexa’s back, she has the Commander quivering and whimpering beneath her.

“Clarke,” Lexa gasps, finally breaking.

“Yes?” Clarke asks, skimming her nose along the waistband of Lexa’s shorts.

“I would like to have you inside of me now.”

Clarke pauses and grins. “That can be arranged.”

Before Clarke realizes what’s happening, Lexa’s flipped her onto her back and is hovering over her, fierce determination in her eyes.

“I love you,” she says, eyebrows knit together and a small frown of concentration on her face.

Clarke runs a finger along her cheekbone and leans up to kiss her nose.

Her face relaxes.

“I love you, too.”

Lexa’s responding smile is reverent, and Clarke’s heartrate accelerates. She doesn’t think she’ll ever feel deserving of her Commander’s veneration, but it’s comforting to know she has it anyway.

Her heart feels achingly full as she tilts her head back so that their lips lock together.

Though all they’ve done with their night together is simmer in lust, they take their time with this kiss. Lexa cups Clarke’s cheek and then gradually pushes her hand into her hair, while Clarke’s hands settle on Lexa’s hips, thumbs rubbing up and down the soft curve of her skin.

While kissing soft and slow, they take turns slipping out of their shorts, and then their bodies lock together—free from barriers.

They gasp at the same time and it’s like someone drops a lit match into a puddle of gasoline. Clarke’s skin is ablaze and her only focus is to consume, consume, consume.

Lexa must feel it, too, because her patient stroking turns to desperate clutching and she mewls into Clarke’s mouth. “Nau. Beja, Clarke.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Clarke says, a wicked grin on her face as the fingers of her left hand dance down Lexa’s lower stomach. She works her hand between their bodies and cups Lexa for the first time.

Her skin is searing hot and slick to the touch. Clarke can’t help the growl that rumbles in the back of her throat.

Lexa shakes above her, pushing herself ever-so-lightly into the curve of Clarke’s palm. “Mou,” she says, her voice a cracked whisper.

Clarke nods and spends just a moment indulging in exploration before she pushes inside. She watches Lexa’s face intently as her eyes squeeze shut and her jaw slackens.

“Will you look at me?” she asks, pumping slowly and curling deeper and deeper into Lexa with every pass.

With a whimper, Lexa forces her eyes open and finds Clarke’s stare.

Clarke’s breath catches at what she finds there: eyes dark as a forest canopy just before a thunderstorm.

Nostrils flared and eyes lidded, Lexa starts moving in rhythm with her thrusts, making Clarke moan appreciatively. She builds to a new pace until she’s driving her fingers into Lexa.

With each thrust, she clenches around Clarke, her entire body quivering with the effort it’s taking to hold herself up. When Clarke brushes her clit with her thumb, Lexa comes undone with a spasm and a rush of wetness before collapsing on top of Clarke.

Since her arm is trapped anyway, she lingers and continues to gently stroke Lexa’s clit with her thumb, smiling at the way her body jolts. When Lexa whines, Clarke kisses the top of her head.

It only takes her a few moments to recover from the orgasm, and then she’s nuzzling into Clarke’s neck, leaving a trail of soft, chaste pecks as she shimmies down Clarke’s body.

“It is your turn,” she says huskily, before settling between Clarke’s legs.

The look Lexa gives her from that position is enough to have Clarke canting off the bed in desperation, and it takes all her strength not to come as soon as Lexa drags her tongue over Clarke’s folds.

“Oh…fuck. Yes,” Clarke says. Her hands find the top of Lexa’s head and her fingers dig into her scalp.

In response, Lexa sucks Clarke’s clit into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the nub, and Clarke loses her grip on coherent thought.

Lexa continues working her over, massaging and sucking and nudging Clarke over the edge into bliss, until there are beads of sweat covering Clarke’s body and she’s throbbing and overstimulated.

They trade places several times before the fire inside Clarke dwindles. By the time they’re both satiated and exhausted, the first light of the morning is trickling into her room.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and then kisses her way up from her place between Lexa’s thighs, stopping to pay special attention to the belly button scar as she has all other times she’s found herself in this position.

“I got that during the first battle of the Azwor,” Lexa says, gently pushing some hair off Clarke’s forehead. “I was fifteen…I remember because I was visiting Tondc for the first time since I’d been sent to Polis as a nightblood.”

“What happened?”

“Nia had just been denied the request to expand Azgeda territory, and her responding plan was to take more land by force. She started with Tondc because of its political importance. To command Trigeda would mean major bargaining power.”

“You stopped her, right?” Clarke asks, resting her chin on Lexa’s stomach.

“Not right away, no,” Lexa says, and then pauses to yawn. “Nia’s soldiers executed their sneak attack expertly. We never had the chance to gather the supplies for a proper defense.”

“Oh my god.”

“The territory changed command for three days, at which point the commander of the time’s army arrived. They executed all the members of the Azgeda infantry. In the nick of time, I might add.”

Clarke gives the wound another kiss and then flops down onto the bed next to Lexa. “What do you mean by that?”

“My public death by a thousand cuts for being a traitor was just getting underway,” she says, running a finger along the length of her scar. When Clarke gasps in understanding, Lexa meets her concerned gaze and tries to smooth the wrinkles in her forehead with her thumb. “I would not swear allegiance to Nia, so they were going to make an example out of me.”

She says it so plainly, so matter-of-fact. As if the information that Lexa’s probably suffered a hundred near-deaths Clarke doesn’t know about is something easily shrugged off.

“What?” Lexa asks in response to Clarke’s pained expression. “What’s wrong?”

Clarke shakes her head. “I…I think it just occurred to me how easily I could lose you.”

“Ah,” Lexa says, nodding solemnly. “If only we could immortalize each other through the power of love alone. Unfortunately, I believe our mortality is something we are simply going to have to live with.”

“Funny,” Clarke says with a wry chuckle before kissing Lexa’s forehead.

Lexa stays silent, stroking Clarke’s cheek.

Suddenly, her sleepy smile is overcome by another yawn.

“We should rest,” Clarke says.

With a nod, Lexa rolls over and Clarke wastes no time scooting behind her so that their bodies are flush.

Within moments, Lexa’s breathing becomes deep and even.

Clarke tightens her grip around her waist and is about to topple over the edge of consciousness herself when there’s a loud knock at her door.

“Bandrona Griffin!” Titus’s worried voice reverberates through the room. “Are you there? We can’t find Heda!”

She groans and lifts her head from her pillow. “Lexa?” she whispers.

“Bandrona Griffin?” Titus repeats, knocking louder.

“Lexa?” Clarke asks again, shaking her gently.

When that doesn’t stir the Commander, Clarke slips out of bed and wraps a sheet around her body.

“Good morning, Titus,” Clarke says with forced enthusiasm, cracking open the door. “What can I do for you?”

“Did you not hear me? The Commander is missing! Her guards found her room empty this morning and we’ve been combing the tower but there’s been no sign of her. Have you heard from her? Do you know where she might have gone?”

“Relax,” Clarke says, rolling her eyes and letting the door fall open a little wider. “Heda is safe and sound, if a bit indisposed at the moment.”

Titus gapes, glancing between Clarke and Clarke’s bed.

“She’s pretty tuckered out, and I’d hate to think how angry she’d be if you woke her right now. I’ll tell her you stopped by, though,” Clarke says, chipper as can be.

He sputters, indignant.

Clarke lets the door fall closed in his face.

As she’s getting back in bed, Lexa stirs. “Who was that?” she mumbles.

“No one important,” Clarke assures her. “Go back to sleep.”

They’re both asleep within seconds.

#clexaweek2017 #clexa #clexa fic #clarke griffin #Lexa #my fic #i'm really happy with how this chapter turned out :D

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