i'll keep you (my dirty little secret)

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/5976666.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/F
Fandom: The 100 (TV)
Relationship: Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Clarke Griffin & Lexa
Character: Lexa (The 100), Clarke Griffin, Finn Collins, Octavia Blake, Raven
Reyes, Anya (The 100)
Additional Tags: will add characters and relationships as they appear/are mention, clarke
is dating finn but he agreed to her getting a fuck buddy, clexa endgame
duh just give them some time to get there, they have plenty of sex to
hold you over until they do, Smut, fuck buddies, Clexa, will add tags as
events occur, clarke is really fucking thirsty but can you blame a girl?,
mild bondage, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Strap-Ons
Stats: Published: 2016-02-11 Completed: 2019-03-03 Chapters: 9/9 Words:
46760

i'll keep you (my dirty little secret)

by hedahearteyes

Summary

Clarke has been with Finn for five months and it’s okay. It’s not extreme passion and desire,
but it’s been good. However, they haven’t had sex for five weeks and Clarke is slowly going
crazy. She’s a sexual person, she likes having sex, preferably a lot of it. So she decides to
find herself a fuck buddy.

Enter Lexa. Writer, part-time college professor, bad-ass with a motorcycle and fucking hot.

They agree to no-strings-attached sex, but then, of course, sex turns into more and they have
to start asking themselves what, and who, it is they want.

Notes

IS IT CHRISTMAS? No, but it sure as hell could be.

A while back I got the idea for this fic, started writing it, abandoned it and then got into it
again today. So I wrote 3000 words in 5 hours and here it is. Please note that this was not
beta'd, so there may be mistakes.

Also keep in mind that Clarke is dating Finn, but I'm Clexa trash, so don't worry about the
endgame here. There may be some Clarke/Finn interactions, but this is mostly pure Clexa.

And then one final note: this is a work in progress and I suck at schedules. So updates won't
be regular, but I am 100% in it to finish it. The entire story has been mapped, I just have to
write it.

Now, please enjoy!

 doomed since the beginning with you

There is a very small amount of nervousness coursing through her veins, which is probably due to
the very possible chance that she is about to meet with a total creep.

(Which will totally be her own fault considering she posted the fucking ad on Craigslist of all places.
To be fair, she has seen weirder things posted on that website.)

Still, she is nervous, but she has to do this, because quite honestly, she’s about to go insane and very
well might if this Lexa person isn’t who she says she is. Clarke really needs her to be who she says
she is. Hell, she doesn’t even have to look remotely like the picture – which is fucking gorgeous, so
if she does that would just be fantastic. But really, she doesn’t, because if everything goes according
to plan Clarke will have her eyes closed most of the time she’s around this woman anyway.

Taking a deep breath, Clarke crosses the street. She halts before entering the dinner and checks her
appearance in the reflection of the window.

Blue skinny jeans that show of her long legs and natural curves; excellent.

Red t-shirt with a low enough cut to show off her cleavage but isn’t too trashy; superb.

Leather jacket with the sleeves pushed up; sexy touch.

She nods to herself and straightens her back in a show of confidence as she enters the diner. It’s a
cute place she’s never been to, never even heard of before this Lexa suggested it as their place to
meet. Clarke agreed instantly, because a diner in the middle of the day is neutral ground. Nothing too
bad can happen to her there and if it does, there are probably plenty of witnesses.

She realizes she is coming up with worst case scenarios, but really, that is to be expected if you
consider the nature of Clarke’s request, the reason for this meeting.

Still in the entrance she scans the diner. She’s five minutes late and Lexa already noted that she’s a
punctual woman; right on time is late to her. In light of that, Clarke is probably not making a great
first impression. But who cares about first impressions when she may be walking into her grave? No,
she thought this through. Agree on a time to meet, show up late and see if the woman is already
there. If no one in the diner looks anywhere close to the woman in the picture Lexa sent, then Clarke
will be the hell out of there before anyone even knew she was there in the first place.

Looking at the people occupying the booths, Clarke feels an odd disappointment begin to settle when
she’s running out of faces and still hasn’t spotted anyone even vaguely resembling Lexa. But then
she sees her, in a corner booth, the only one not near a window, reading a book and Clarke actually,
honest to God, gasps. Apparently, this Lexa looks nothing like the fucking gorgeous woman in the
picture she had sent and Clarke, honest to God, is actually gaping at her now, because Goddamnit,
this woman is far prettier. She’s far more gorgeous and really, if Clarke had to be crude and think
like a dude, she’s fucking hot.

From where she’s standing near the entrance, she can’t see much of what Lexa is wearing, but just
the sight of her white blouse with only the top button undone and her sleeves rolled up over her
elbows, showing of sun-tanned skin, is enough to send Clarke’s imagination into overdrive.

All the nervousness leaves her body and replaces with excitement and arousal and Clarke sighs,
because that tells her two things. One, it really has been way too fucking long and she has no idea
how she’s still alive and two, this is never going to be a one-off thing like she low-key hoped it
would be. Just once to get it out of her system and hold herself over until Finn found himself again.
She had survived five weeks without now; she could surely survive another five if she just had
something to hold onto.

But seeing Lexa and noticing the way her body already responds to her – allowing herself to, just
momentarily, entertain the things her mind is already conjuring up – Clarke knows this is not going
to be a one and done kind of encounter.

Doesn’t matter though. She discussed this with Finn and he agreed and surely this whole situation
won’t last much longer than a month, two tops. So she takes another deep breath and makes her way
over to the corner booth, clearing her throat to announce her presence and having to bite her lip in
order not to gape at the other woman again. Lexa is looking up at her with eyes far greener than the
picture made them out to be – admittedly, the lighting in the picture left much to be desired, but still –
and Clarke needs an actual moment to get herself together.

“Lexa?” She finally asks, her voice cracking a little at the end.

“Yes. You must be Clarke.” Clarke simply nods and only moves to sit when Lexa motions to the
empty booth across from her. She places her purse on the table and shrugs out of her jacket before
getting comfortable and daring to look at Lexa again.

“So,” Lexa clears her throat and the action is almost awkward, betraying a nervosity Clarke herself
only briefly felt, “about your ad.”

“Yes. Do you have any questions?”

“I just wondered... why?”

Let’s take this moment to rewind and go back in time for a bit.

Clarke has been dating Finn for some five months, quite happily so. Okay no, that’s not entirely true;
it’s what she’s been telling herself, but it’s not true. She is content. Finn is kind and good to her and
obviously very much in love with her and while Clarke isn’t too sure about the in love part herself,
there is certainly a part of her that loves him.

What also helps is that Finn is happy to oblige Clarke in her sexual desires, of which she has a lot.
It’s always been that way: Clarke is a sexual person and if it was up to her she would have sex at
least once a day, every day.

Unfortunately, that’s a bit too much for Finn’s own personal libido and also nearly impossible with
his work schedule. He’s at the office until at least 7, sometimes 8 every night, afterwards he comes
home, they have dinner, clean the dishes and then he showers before going to bed to read a book
before going to sleep.

If you ask Clarke, there is plenty of time and opportunity to have sex in that time. During the
cleaning of the dishes for example, which she will gladly neglect and postpone to the next morning
in favor of an orgasm. Or during his shower, which they could share and also save water in the
process. Or while he’s in bed reading his book, which really won’t walk away if he chooses Clarke
over it.

Still, they have enough sex to keep Clarke at least mildly satisfied and he’s good and kind, so she’s
content.
Or rather, she was. Some five weeks prior to Clarke meeting Lexa in a cute diner, somewhere in the
middle of the city, she found herself getting gloriously naked with Finn. The night was pretty much
perfect and Clarke was more than happy to celebrate that with hopefully three rounds of sex, at least.

There was a moment where Finn initially declined, stating he was tired and had to get up early the
next morning, but Clarke persuaded him with her Griffin Charm™ – and the way she popped an
extra button on her blouse probably also helped.

So there they were, in their bedroom, getting gloriously naked. At that point it had been nearly a
week since they’d had sex and Clarke was nearing insanity. So imagine her happy surprise when the
first thing Finn does, once she’s finally naked and on the bed, is going down on her. Usually she has
to ask and he doing it of his own accord is a nice change of pace.

But it became pretty clear pretty quickly just why he went down on her right away. He was sloppy
and obviously unfocused and well... tired. So Clarke pulled him up, asked him what was wrong and
with his head hung he admitted that not only was he tired, he just wasn’t feeling it, hadn’t felt it for
almost a week now. The evidence of this statement hung limply between his legs.

Clarke sighed in defeat and disappointment, but she also understood. He’d been working hard,
eyeing an important promotion and he was probably just really tired. So she kissed his cheek, rolled
him over on his back and told him to get some sleep while she took a shower first.

(Obviously because Clarke Griffin is a decent human being and she does not get herself off while her
boyfriend is sleeping right next to her. No, decent human being Clarke Griffin gets herself off in the
shower while her boyfriend is sleeping in the other room.)

She had expected that Finn would come around once things at work calmed down, which they did
after about a week or so. But even with enough sleep and reduced work-related stress, Finn still
didn’t feel it, still couldn’t get it up. So Clarke waited. Naturally, she initiated taking things further
than just a heated make-out session on several – many – occasions, but to no avail.

After three weeks it became too much. To Clarke, going from having sex three days a week to never
is like going cold turkey. It seriously crossed her mind to break up with Finn and go back into the
dating scene. But that wasn’t fair to him and that’s not the kind of person Clarke is. She liked Finn,
enjoyed being around him. Things were good with Finn and honestly, only the sex was missing. So
what she needed was simply someone to have sex with. No strings attached, no feelings included.

Of course that wasn’t an easy thing to break to Finn. He’s a man, he took it personally; Clarke
assured him it definitely wasn’t personal. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea for a whole week, but
Clarke made sure to bring it up every day. Finally he relented, but requested that she wouldn’t pick
someone they knew; it had to be a complete stranger.

Clarke agreed to that and he seemed surprised by it. Maybe he had hoped that the prospect of
sleeping with a complete stranger would be unappealing to Clarke, but it wasn’t. There had been
many nights before Finn where she found herself in a stranger’s bed and as long as she was sure the
person in question wasn’t a total creep and void of any STD’s, she was fine with it.

It took another four days before Finn was really okay with it and allowed Clarke to post an ad on
Craigslist.

(Don’t ever ask her why she chose Craigslist, because she honestly doesn’t know. Desperate being
the only word coming to mind.)

Just a day after posting the ad she had enough response to pick a different person every night for
three weeks. But after sifting through the applications at least half were quickly dropped. The
remaining faces were all brought before Finn for further discussion, because he wanted to know who
would be sleeping with his girlfriend. Five of them were quickly dismissed because Clarke easily
found their pictures on different sites with different names and she wasn’t going to risk picking some
dude who lived in his mother’s basement, only playing World of Warcraft and eating McDonalds.

With five faces left, Clarke had quickly made a decision – it was pretty much made from the moment
she saw the picture, but hey, fair chances for everyone. Clarke was fully intending on letting Finn
know who she’d picked, but as he looked at the five pictures left he resolutely shook his head.
Apparently they were all too good looking and he didn’t want to know because, well, he’s a man, he
still took it personally. So Clarke merely told him she made a choice and would set up a meeting and
let him know how it went.

Enter Lexa and a cute diner in the middle of the city. Of course in her explanation of the events
leading up to the ad and their meeting, Clarke left out that they weren’t having sex because Finn
can’t get it up. Because she had no idea why it wasn’t working for him anymore and she’s taking it
kind of personally, because hello! She’s a good looking young woman; she has sex appeal and
knows how to seduce someone. Not getting someone turned on when she wants them to? That has
never really happened to her.

Lexa seems understanding of what Clarke shared of the situation and isn’t at all freaked out or
annoyed by the fact that Clarke has a boyfriend who she’s perfectly ha– ... content with, although
she shouldn’t be, because Clarke clearly stated it in the ad.

“I won’t be awkward about this, because I am a confident person and as such am confident in my
sexuality. And quite frankly, I like sex. A lot. But like I said: I haven’t had it in while and while lack
of sex is not a good enough reason to break up with someone, I still need sex.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. So may I ask why you responded?”

Lexa takes a nervous sip from her glass of water, obviously staring at something over Clarke’s
shoulder to avoid eye contact and it’s clear that Lexa is not as confident about this as Clarke is.
That’s not a problem though; if she really wants this then they’ll find a way to help her relax and just
enjoy the ride. Clarke is not a selfish, egotistical person; this isn’t only about her and she would be
very happy to wait a few more days to put Lexa at ease with the whole situation.

“I was in serious relationship for four years which ended badly about two years ago and I don’t want
to start dating again. But I do find that there are certain... physical needs that demand to be satisfied
and I am not the type of person to pick up strangers at bars.”

Clarke nods in understanding, relieved with the fact that Lexa isn’t looking to date anyone and won’t
be prone to develop feelings for her. She’s about to say something when Lexa looks up again, stares
her dead in the eye and Clarke is taken aback with the sudden intensity of the moment.

“Besides,” Lexa’s voice somehow seems deeper and Clarke notices her eyes now shine with
excitement, “you are exactly my type.”

Clarke swallows hard as she readjusts in her seat, her arousal from the first sight of Lexa now back
and obviously present. Lexa is still staring at her, Clarke thinks she can see a hint of a smirk on her
lips and she has to breathe in deep. “And what is your type?”
Lexa actually does smirk now, though small and nearly invisible, but Clarke doesn’t miss it and she
moves her hands from where they lay clasped on the table to her legs, fingers digging into the flesh
as she clenches her thighs. Lexa leans forward after observing Clarke’s body language and Clarke
subconsciously follows her.

“Confident. Sexy. I bet you’re dominant and demanding.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Are you,
Clarke?”

Oh, there’s something in the way Lexa says her name and Clarke actually closes her eyes as she lets
the sound wash over her. She can feel a familiar wetness gathering between her legs and she
practically moans right there in the diner. This is verbal foreplay at its finest.

(Or maybe Clarke is just really, really, ready to finally be touched again and her want and desire and
weeks of waiting are amplifying this moment. Whatever it is, it’s fucking fantastic.)

“Are you, Clarke?” Lexa asks again when she still hasn’t answered and Clarke opens her eyes to
look straight into green ones.

“Yes.”

“Good. I like that. But don’t be fooled, so am I.”

Another deep breath is what it takes for Clarke to gather her bearings and step back into the game.
She lets Lexa know, with a smirk of her own, that the game is on.

“Good. Do you have any more questions?”

Lexa leans back in the booth, posture nonchalant as she shrugs. “One. Are you tested?”

“Yes, I am and I’m clean. You?”

“Same.”

“Good. I have a question too. Do you have anywhere else you need to be today?”

“Just an appointment at five.”

Clarke smirks again when she realizes from the way Lexa is looking at her and starts to sit up that
she caught on to Clarke’s intentions.

“Then we have time.”

And just like that they end up in Lexa’s bed.

Clarke realizes as they make their way to her apartment – which turned out to be a 15-minute, rather
awkward, mostly silent, filled with eye-fucking subway ride – that she hadn’t thought beyond
finding someone to sleep with. To be fair, she hadn’t expected their first meeting to end in an
exploration of each other’s body, but she is also most certainly not complaining, because that is what
she came for. (No pun intended.)

As they make their way up to the 15th floor of Lexa’s apartment building in another silent ride on an
elevator this time, Clarke realizes she should have thought of a place to hold these meetings. Surely
going to either one of their apartments is way too familiar and also, her own apartment is completely
out of the question with Finn living there too.
She begins contemplating the merits of renting a weekly hotel-room or something when she’s pulled
inside an apartment by Lexa and in the next moment promptly pushed against the door, which Lexa
has decided to close with Clarke’s body and that is just fucking hot. All thought of hotel-rooms flee
Clarke’s brain.

Lexa’s hands are on her hips, holding her in place as their entire bodies are pressed together and
Lexa is sucking at her neck. Clarke can’t help the moan bubble from her throat – yup, definitely been
way too fucking long.

Lexa’s lips move up to nip at her jaw and when she pulls back to look at Clarke’s lips with hooded
eyes – which Clarke notices, which causes a wave of arousal through Clarke’s entire body, which
should have been her first warning-sign – she remembers she has some boundaries to set. Okay one;
she has one boundary. One rule.

“Stop.” She croaks, voice hoarse with lust already and Lexa’s eyes snap back to hers as she locks her
jaw – which Clarke finds way too sexy because that jaw line must have been sculpted by God
himself. “I have one rule.” She continues and Lexa nods, the only indication that she is listening and
Clarke should continue.

She takes a deep breath, trying to clear her thoughts for the moment being so she at least sounds
somewhat convincing – on the other hand, Lexa is in no position to object to Clarke’s terms, because
she agreed to all of Clarke’s terms the moment she responded to that ad. Clarke still needs that
breath, though.

“No kissing. At least not on the mouth, everywhere else is fine. Everywhere else is... perfect,
actually.” Lexa nods again, swallows once, twice, works her jaw, probably to loosen it and then
smirks at Clarke. She leans in, sucking at the flesh of Clarke’s neck again and slowly moving up to
her ear until she is close enough to whisper,

“Can I take you to my bedroom now?”

Clarke moans, then swallows hard before finding her weak reply: “Please.”

In one swift motion, Lexa has her hands on Clarke’s ass and she’s lifting her up. Clarke wraps her
legs around Lexa’s waist like they’ve done this a thousand times, like it’s their routine. Lexa holds
Clarke close, hands still on her ass and Clarke breathes out a soft “fuck”.

(Finn never picked her up like that – hell, no one has ever picked her up like that and Clarke thinks
this may be the hottest thing that has ever happened to her. It isn’t, as she walks home nearly three
hours later, she knows it isn’t, but right now her judgement is a little clouded.)

Clarke doesn’t even remember Lexa carrying her down the hall and into her bedroom, but the next
thing she knows she’s laying on her back in the bed and Lexa is pulling away from her. Clarke
watches for a bit, but the moment Lexa’s hands reach for the buttons of her blouse, Clarke jumps into
action.

“No,” she’s on her knees in no time, reaching out and grasping the hem of Lexa’s blouse to pull her
closer, “let me do it.”

Lexa lets her hands fall to her sides without complaint and watches as Clarke reaches for the top
button. She’s taking her sweet time undoing them, biting her lip all the while, and while her pace was
probably meant to be torturous, the way she stares at every new inch of exposed skin makes her
seem more in awe than teasing.
Truly, Clarke is in awe. From the swell of Lexa’s breasts, covered by a simple black bra, to her
visible abs. Clarke is immensely turned on by the mere sight of Lexa. And from there, once Clarke
has pulled the blouse from where it was tucked into Lexa’s trousers, everything happens so fast.

Clarke’s shirt is carelessly pulled from her body and thrown somewhere on the floor behind Lexa;
Clarke yanks Lexa’s belt from the loops with one forceful tug, which simultaneously brings Lexa
even closer, allowing Clarke to trace her tongue over the lines between Lexa’s abs as she works on
the button of her trousers. Lexa sighs contentedly, her hands curling in Clarke’s hair, but then she
seems to remember herself and she pulls away.

Clarke doesn’t even protest, just yanks her trousers down Lexa’s long legs – which are gorgeous and
Clarke could probably stare at them for a whole day – and Lexa easily steps out of them before
kicking them away.

She pushes against Clarke’s shoulders next and Clarke takes the hint, repositioning herself so that’s
she lying on the bed again. Lexa looks her over once, very slowly, from where she’s still standing
and then she settles on the bed too. Her knees are on either side of Clarke’s as she sits back and lets
her hands take hold of Clarke’s lacy white panties – they match with her bra and they’re nearly see-
through with how soaked Clarke already is.

The material slides off her legs easily and Lexa dumps it next to her on the floor, her eyes never
leaving Clarke’s wet sex. She licks her lips, swallows hard and then looks up at Clarke. Clarke has to
take a deep breath at the sight of Lexa’s lust-darkened eyes, the way her cheeks are flushed and her
lips are apart and oh the way her head is slightly cocked to the side as she looks at Clarke, like she’s
trying to look through her soul. Her eyes are screaming for consent and Clarke can only nod, her
breath held in anticipation of what is to come.

Lexa smirks again, then lowers her body down on the mattress so she’s laying in between Clarke’s
legs, which spread immediately in an open invitation. She lowers her lips onto Clarke’s stomach first,
kissing up and down, as if telling Clarke that this is what she will be doing to her pussy soon enough.
Clarke can feel her arousal drip from her, Lexa’s midriff pressing against her isn’t helping much
either. She bucks up in search of friction, but Lexa merely grips her hips with firm hands, long
fingers digging into her skin, holding her down and still.

As if she’s grown bored with kissing Clarke’s stomach, Lexa sighs and moves to her belly-button,
where she wastes no timing in dipping in her tongue and swirling it around. Clarke moans in
response, because that is one skilled as fuck tongue and there are other, far more interesting places,
for Lexa to explore with it. But Clarke seems to have lost all ability to speak, still waiting with bathed
breath as her hands grip the sheets around her.

Thankfully, Lexa grows bored of her belly-button too and she begins sucking a straight line down.
As she reaches the tiny patch of blonde hairs leading to Clarke’s wet center, Clarke becomes a
writhing mess. Lexa moves her right arm underneath Clarke’s left leg and lifts it over her shoulder as
her left hand pushes against the thigh of Clarke’s right leg, spreading her even further as she leans in.

Clarke thinks she may come from just feeling Lexa’s breath against her clit, she’s so worked up. But
then Lexa takes her in her mouth and Clarke moans so loud, Lexa is pretty sure the neighbors heard.
But Clarke can’t even find it in herself to be sorry; it’s been five fucking weeks since she’s felt
someone’s warm mouth over her throbbing clit and she’ll be damned if she’s not going to make the
most out of this.

Lexa sucks on her clit for a minute, somehow keeping her tongue away and Clarke is grinding into
her mouth because she just needs some friction. When Lexa pulls away, Clarke whimpers – like a
baby, like a child being denied what they want – she actually, fucking whimpers. But then, then the
most amazing thing happens.

Lexa shifts a little, angling herself, and then she presses the flat of her tongue against Clarke’s
soaking wet cunt and she licks up, the tip of her tongue brushing over Clarke’s clit before she pulls
back to look at Clarke, who’s back is arched off the bed, head thrown back, knuckles white from her
grip on the sheets as she releases a long, content “aaaaaaaaaah”.

Clarke is seeing stars already and she vows in this moment to never go five weeks without sex ever
again. She doesn’t even know how she survived.

Soon enough Lexa’s tongue is back on her and she is sucking and licking and nipping, keeping close
watch on the way Clarke’s body reacts to her on the sounds she makes. When she does something
that makes Clarke’s hips buck up, she does it again. When she makes Clarke moan, Lexa makes sure
to repeat her action again and again, each time a little harder until she moves on. She remembers
what Clarke likes, sometimes to repeat it later on, sometimes to file away for future reference.

It isn’t long before Clarke can’t keep still; one hand is now tangled in Lexa’s hair, alternating
between pulling and pushing without any real direction. The other moves around the bed, fingers
gripping the sheets then flexing; sometimes Clarke throws her arms over her eyes, sometimes she
cups her own breast, shortly massaging it.

Lexa doesn’t have to know Clarke’s body to know she’s close to orgasm, so she lets go of Clarke’s
thigh with her left hand and angles her arm so that she can rub Clarke’s clit while she kisses the short
way down from her clit to her entrance. She’s not even trying to tease her anymore, so after three
licks she pushes her tongue inside and immediately feels Clarke’s walls clenching around her as
Clarke nearly screams above her.

(It’s been five fucking weeks since Clarke has felt anything other than her own fingers inside herself,
she will damn well scream when she finally gets fucked again, thank you very much.)

It takes only two thrusts, combined with the pressure of Lexa’s fingers on her clit, and then Clarke
comes. Her entire body stills for a moment, her mouth falls open in a silent scream and when part of
her senses return she can still feel Lexa’s tongue slowly working inside her, helping her ride out her
orgasm. It takes about three minutes for the aftershocks to subside and for her pussy to become too
sensitive to touch, so she grabs Lexa’s hair and pulls her away.

Lexa rests her head on Clarke’s stomach, catching her breath, shifting as her own arousal – caused
very much by Clarke’s expressiveness – becomes uncomfortable. When Clarke has returned to her
senses she takes one deep breath and strokes Lexa’s hair almost fondly.

“Thank you so much.” She says, still a little out of breath, voice hoarse from her moans and screams.
Lexa’s short laughter vibrates against her own body and Clarke smiles.

“You’re very welcome.” She replies and then the silence returns.

After another moment Lexa looks up, a glint in her eyes, lips set in that seemingly permanent smirk
and the evidence of Clarke’s arousal still on her chin – Clarke can’t help but think she’s breathtaking.
Which should have been her second warning-sign.

“So...” Lexa lets the word hang between them as her smirk grows. “You’re loud.” It’s not a question
or an accusation. It is a statement, and judging from her smirk, she doesn’t mind at all.

Clarke laughs again, removes her leg from Lexa’s shoulder and then pulls her up her body. Lexa has
no time to settle, because Clarke flips them effortlessly, now straddling Lexa, her sex pressing against
Lexa’s stomach.

“You bet I am.”

And then she returns the favor.

 yet i can't help but love this thing that you do
Chapter Notes

Pretty quick update, but that's what you get when you're inspired.
Thanks for all the comments and kudos, I hope you'll enjoy this just as much.

Fair warning: Finn shows up in this and there's a short description of Clarke trying to
seduce him, but he's an idiot.

It’s Two Days After Lexa and Clarke finds herself distracted during lunch with Octavia and Raven.
Actually, Clarke has found herself distracted pretty much every hour since Lexa.

She had expected that her afternoon with Lexa would quell some of her sexual desire, would help
her clear her head and think straight again. And while her head is clear – for the most part – she has
yet to see her desire quelled. In fact, all she has wanted for the past 43 hours is to go back to Lexa
and rip her clothes off.

(Or have her clothes ripped off, that works too.)

Unfortunately for her, they decided to limit their encounters to once a week and that means Clarke
has to wait another five days before she can go back to Lexa on Friday.

“Clarke, what’s wrong?” Octavia’s voice brings her back to the present, back to her lunch.

“Nothing. Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“You seem distracted, everything okay?” She looks to Raven, whose usually carefree eyes are
clouded with genuine concern.

“Guys, I swear, nothing is wrong, I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About something.”

“Something? Wow, that’s vaguer than the reason my dad left, Griffin.” In classic Raven fashion she
lightens the mood at the expense of herself. But this has been their dynamic for years and they’re
over – most of – their childhood traumas, allowing them to joke about it occasionally.

“Something’s different about you, Clarke.” Octavia notes and Clarke should have known that she
can never keep anything from her two best friends. She sighs deeply, torn between wanting to tell
them, but not exactly ready yet.

“Okay, yeah, fine, there’s something. But it’s not really bad or life-threatening or anything. It’s just a
thing that I will share when I’m ready.”

“I swear to God, Clarke, if you’re pregnant and thinking of an abortion, I am dragging you to your
mother by your ear.” Octavia threatens and Clarke looks at her incredulously, one eyebrow expertly
raised.
“Did you miss the part where I said it wasn’t that bad?”

“Or the part where she hasn’t had sex for more than a month?” Raven quips, asshole smirk plastered
perfectly on her face.

Sure, as her best friend she feels sorry for Clarke that she hasn’t gotten any in that long, but as her
best friend Raven is also extremely amused with sex-deprived Clarke’s antics. And usually, when
Raven mentions Clarke’s lack of sex, the blonde bursts into a highly passionate rant on the unfairness
of it all.

However this time, Clarke merely drops her head on the table with a grunt. That’s new.

Because this time, at the mention of Clarke’s lack of sex, Clarke is reminded of her not so lack of
sex. Clarke is reminded, once again, of Lexa and her fucking tongue and the five days that she has to
wait and how she really doesn’t want to wait.

Sure, Clarke knows that what she’s doing is a little wrong. She wasn’t supposed to want Lexa this
much, but it’s only been two days and Clarke has just now learned how wonderful an actual, other
person induced, orgasm is again.

It’s like high school and your first crush who you, after long moments of awkward touching and
undressing, sleep with for the first time and while it is far from perfect, it is a whole new experience
and all the hormones and the post-orgasm bliss make you believe that you are definitely in love and
this love will last forever.

And then three weeks later you both move on and you can’t believe you ever thought you loved that
idiot.

Yeah, well, Clarke is still in the post-orgasm bliss phase. Right now, all she can think of and feel and
hear and want is Lexa. But Lexa is pretty much synonymous for orgasm and that’s what she really
wants, so this low-key obsession with Lexa right now is all about the sex. In a few weeks it’s going
to fade and they’ll just be two young women enjoying casual sex.

(It’s only two days after Lexa and Clarke has thought about Lexa non-stop, while trying to figure out
why she can’t stop thinking of Lexa and really, the fact that Finn and his feelings never crossed her
mind should have been her third warning sign.)

Raven and Octavia drop the subject, thinking Clarke’s reaction is a sign of her becoming numb to
her lack of sex.

//

It’s Four Days After Lexa and Clarke finds that spending the whole day practically soaking wet
because she is a constantly turned on, horny mess is rather inconvenient.

At night, she dreams about Lexa. A very vivid reconstruction of the things Lexa did to her. She
wakes up wet.

During the day, she thinks about Lexa. A very vivid imaging of the things Lexa could do to her. She
only gets wetter.

Right now, Clarke isn’t sure what’s better. Not having sex and craving it or having sex and wanting
nothing more than to lock herself in a room with Lexa for about a week.

And you know, that wouldn’t even be such a bad idea if it wasn’t for Finn.
Honestly, despite discussing it and him agreeing, Clarke feels a little guilty. But only because she
can’t stop thinking about Lexa. There’s nothing else for her to feel guilty about.

Clarke didn’t tell Finn what happened after she met Lexa that Friday afternoon, so for all she knows
he thinks they just talked and discussed the details of their arrangement.

(They did that as well, Lexa turned out to be a very pragmatic woman.)

And Clarke thinks she’s been doing a pretty good job at acting normal around Finn – not like she’s
been thinking about Lexa every minute. And Finn doesn’t seem to notice that she is distracted more
often than not, so it’s all good.

Still, Clarke feels a little guilty and that’s why she’s stepping into her favorite set of lingerie right
now. She’s fresh out of the shower, her hair is still a little wet and in a minute, when she’s done,
she’ll flick it over her shoulder to the front so the water will drop between her breasts and he can’t
help but notice.

And then she’ll try, again, to seduce him. She’s kind of hoping that his obvious jealousy will spark
something inside him. And maybe if they sleep together again, she won’t be thinking about Lexa
every day and they can call off their arrangement and things will go back to normal.

Exiting the bathroom and stepping into the bedroom, she sees Finn just taking off his shirt to get
ready for bed.

“Hey.” Her voice is purposely low, her smile is purposely flirtatious, she’s playing with a strand of
wet hair. She’s pretty sure anyone with a libido would want to jump her right now.

He turns around, smiles a soft “hey” at her and turns back around to take off his jeans. Clarke
frowns, but okay, alright, he may be too tired to read her intentions from her subtlety.

She stalks closer, wraps her arms around his body and leans against his back.

“Are you tired?” She asks, as her hand rubs over his stomach while the other rests at the waistband
of his boxers.

“Yeah, long day today and long day ahead tomorrow.”

“I can help you relax.” She purrs and her hand is about to slip inside his underwear. But then he
catches her wrists in his own hands and pulls her away from him and Clarke frowns again.

(For two reasons. One: what the actual fuck? And two: Clarke remembers when Lexa caught her
wrist in her hand four days ago – her long fingers wrapped around it completely and their softness
made Clarke shiver before Lexa pushed the hand inside her panties so Clarke could feel just how wet
she was too.)

He turns around, smiles down at her in what she assumes is supposed to be an apologetic way and
kisses her forehead.

“Not tonight.” He says. Not any night, Clarke thinks.

She nods, turns around and walks back to the bathroom. Angry, confused and right now, even hurt,
she takes off her underwear – her favorite pair, her best pair. How did this not work? – and forcefully
throws the set on the laundry pile.

She is washing them tomorrow and then she is going to wear them on Friday and Lexa is going to be
enjoying them like Finn could have tonight.

When Clarke returns to the bedroom in just a t-shirt, Finn is already on his side of the bed, night lamp
off and back turned to her. She gets in bed without another word.

//

Friday comes and the nervosity now filling Clarke is nothing like the nervosity from a week ago. She
knows what’s going to happen now, she knows what to expect yet she doesn’t.

Lexa texted her the evening before. The message was simple and informative and left Clarke in
anticipation: I will be home around twelve and have a dinner appointment at six. Don’t be late.

Clarke had her entirely schedule cleared just for today and now that twelve o’clock was nearing, and
Clarke was making her way to Lexa’s apartment, she hoped that she was allowed to stay until Lexa
had to start getting ready.

That would mean they had about five hours all to themselves and if Clarke couldn’t lock her into a
room for a week, then five hours would be a very welcome alternative.

Standing in front of Lexa’s door, Clarke smoothes out the material of her sundress before knocking.
She takes a deep breath, buzzing with anticipation and a little nervous that the moments in between
Lexa opening the door and them actually getting into bed will be awkward and uncomfortable.

But then Lexa actually opens the door wearing just her jeans, which are unbuttoned, and a black bra.
It’s not the same as last week; this one actually has white lace adorning the edges.

Clarke stares for a moment. First at the bit of matching black panties she can see, then her abs, which
Clarke still feels tremble against her tongue some days and can’t wait to feel again, before her eyes
finally snap up to Lexa’s.

Clarke smirks, “Getting started without me?”

Lexa smirks right back, “I was actually changing into something a little more… alluring. But when
the doorbell rang and I wasn’t ready, I figured this would save time.”

Clarke’s nerves were for nothing. This is what they’re good at; flirting and playful banter and
challenging smirks. She steps closer, her hand reaching out to push Lexa back inside the apartment.

“I like the way you think.” She says, as she closes the door with one hand, the other still against
Lexa’s stomach. Once she has backed her against the wall, Lexa’s breathing already heavy, she
kneels and descends her lips against Lexa’s waiting skin.

Lexa moans immediately, as if she has been waiting for this moment just like Clarke has been.
Clarke licks the same line between Lexa’s abs and it does its job of reminding the both of them,
again, of their last time together.

Clarke runs her hands up Lexa’s sides in time with her kisses trailing upwards. When she reaches her
breasts, Clarke wastes no time in unhooking Lexa’s bra. She slides the straps down her shoulders
and when the garment falls away her lips immediately attach around one already erect nipple, while
her thumb swipes over the other.

Lexa hums as Clarke laps at her breast, groans when she pulls her nipples between fingers and teeth.
She was already wet with anticipation before Clarke showed up, felt it in her clit when she saw the
blonde again and is now struggling not to whine and beg Clarke to get on with it.
She won’t give Clarke that power yet, but also won’t wait any longer. She trails her hand down her
own side and over her stomach, tantalizingly slow and almost reminiscent of the way Clarke did just
that last week.

When Clarke notices the hand moving between them, she releases Lexa’s nipple with a wet pop.

“What are you doing?” She asks, looking up at Lexa, already knowing the answer.

“What you came here for. But you’re wasting time, which I thought we wouldn’t do.” In a challenge
Lexa moves her hand further down, fingers now playing with the lace at the waistband of her
panties. Clarke smirks up at her, something sparkling in her eyes.

“Well,” she says, returning her attention back to Lexa’s chest, now focusing on the previously
neglected breast, “I’m not stopping you.”

Lexa smirks in response, even though Clarke can’t see it. She moves her hand inside her panties,
waiting for Clarke to take her nipple into her mouth again. But she doesn’t and when Lexa looks
down, she sees Clarke is looking down as well. At Lexa’s hand in her own panties, about to touch
herself while Clarke is right there.

Clarke holds her breath in anticipation. She wouldn’t normally watch if she’d walk in on someone
masturbating, but she isn’t walking in on this. There’s something hot about the thought that Lexa
can’t wait, something hot about the thought that she will most likely be thinking of Clarke while she
fingers herself.

(Clarke can’t help but wonder if she thought of Clarke in the past week, like Clarke thought of her.)

Lexa’s hand begins moving again and Clarke watches, as best as she can see with her clothes still in
the way, how she runs one finger through her own drenched folds. Then the hand emerges from her
panties and she holds out the finger to Clarke, glistening with the evidence of Lexa’s arousal for her.

“For you.” She says and Clarke groans at the sound of her voice having deepened with lust.

Clarke wraps her fingers around Lexa’s wrist and takes her finger into her mouth, licking it clean and
marveling at her first taste of Lexa. She releases the digit slowly, then looks up again at Lexa while
she guides both their hands back inside Lexa’s panties.

“Now stop wasting time.”

Lexa cocks her eyebrow in response and starts rubbing her clit gently with Clarke’s hand following
to feel every motion. At the same time, Clarke’s lips fall back against Lexa’s nipple with a moan. Her
tongue swirls the same circles around the erect peak that Lexa’s fingers rub around her clit.

But after a while it’s taking Clarke too long and while Lexa is still paying attention to her own clit,
releasing soft sounds above her, Clarke runs her fingers through Lexa’s wet lips.

Lexa bites back her moan as Clarke’s fingers circle her entrance and she clamps her hand in Clarke’s
hair so she has something to hold onto.

Clarke is contemplating her options. She still tastes the little bit of Lexa on her tongue and wants
nothing more than to descend her mouth on her and make her come with her tongue like she made
Clarke come last time. But she is also very much enjoying helping Lexa fuck herself.

The choice is easily made when Lexa’s hips buck up and two of Clarke’s fingers dip a little inside
her. Lexa moans and Clarke decides that eating her out can wait. After all, they have about five
hours and no time to waste.

Clarke stands up, her fingers still teasing Lexa, but she wants to reposition herself a little more
comfortably before actually fucking her.

She leans against her body, pushing Lexa back against the wall, and her lips touching the space on
Lexa’s neck, just between her ear and jaw line. Clarke learned last week that it’s a sensitive spot, but
didn’t dwell on it then. Now she is intent on abusing that knowledge.

She leaves a soft kiss first, but when she finally pushes two fingers deep inside Lexa she
simultaneously sucks on that very spot. Lexa’s gasp turns into a moan as she shudders against
Clarke.

Clarke keeps nipping and sucking as her fingers curl inside Lexa and Lexa uses her own fingers to
pinch her clit. Her free hand still in Clarke’s hair, she pulls her back enough to look at her.

“How did you know?” She asks, already breathless.

“You coming the moment I licked you there last week was a dead giveaway.”

Lexa is silent for a while, trying to replay to that moment to see if Clarke is right and her orgasm
really was kick started by a simple lick, but she’s too focused on the here and now. On the way
Clarke’s fingers pull out, then push in and curl twice before repeating. On the way her own fingers
apply pressure to her clit in time with Clarke’s thrusts and on the way she can’t stop grinding against
both their hands.

She admits defeat with a roll of her eyes. “Just don’t leave a mark.”

“Don’t want anyone knowing you’re getting laid?”

“Considering I won’t hear the end of it from my sister, no.”

“As you wish.” And with that Clarke returns to Lexa’s neck, simply licking and nipping at her spot.

They remain like that until Lexa can’t stop her moans anymore and starts grinding harder. Clarke
pulls out – to which Lexa huffs in disagreement – and takes Lexa’s hand in her own. She pushes it
down to Lexa’s entrance.

“You finish it.” Clarke whispers in her ear. Lexa’s brows furrow in confusion.

“I want you to finish it.” She protest. But Clarke growls in response and then her free hand comes up
to grab a handful of Lexa’s curls and pull her head back.

She presses Lexa’s hand harder against herself as she looks her in the eye and Lexa is determined not
to break eye contact, the moment much too intense.

“I said, you finish it.”

Lexa gulps but nods anyway and dips two fingers inside herself. Clarke’s hand remains on hers, just
like their gazes never leave each other.

Clarke is helping Lexa push in deeper than she’s ever been and Lexa certainly doesn’t miss the way
she bites her bottom lip between her teeth. She wants to say something, something sassy or snarky,
something to regain some control, but then Clarke groans as Lexa thrusts in again and she can feel
her walls clench around her own fingers.
Three more thrusts and Clarke is watching as Lexa’s head falls back against the wall, her eyes closed
and mouth open.

Clarke helps her ride out the orgasm and then pulls her hand back, resting it on Lexa’s hip as she her
other hand releases Lexa’s hair only to start playing with the little hairs at the nape of her neck .

When Lexa’s breathing has returned to normal and she opens her eyes to look at Clarke, she smiles
apologetically.

“Sorry.” Clarke is about to look away, but Lexa releases her own hand from Clarke’s hair and takes
hold of her chin to remain their eye-contact.

“Don’t be. We already established that we’re both dominant.” Lexa eyes are soft and Clarke nods
with a small smile.

She’s never been shy of her more demanding side, but usually it only comes out when she’s been
with someone for a while.

“And I will make you pay later.” Lexa’s voice snaps Clarke from her thoughts and she is met with
that insufferably sexy smirk. Clarke breaks out in a wicked grin.

“I can’t wait.”

//

When Clarke returns home around 5:30 she is surprised to not see Finn waiting for her on the couch.
For a moment she is confused, until she reaches the kitchen and finds the note tucked to the
refrigerator door.

Hey babe, I had hoped to see you before I left, but I couldn’t reach you. I’ll be back next Friday.

In her excitement over her afternoon with Lexa, she had completely forgotten that Finn was about to
leave on a business-trip. He had mentioned it on Wednesday morning during breakfast, she had been
distracted and wasn’t really listening.

He mentioned it Wednesday evening before he went to bed and she remembers asking him some
details, but none of it stuck.

He had said his goodbye’s Thursday evening before turning on his back and falling asleep, but
Clarke was too busy imagining what Lexa might have in store for her and she didn’t even wish him a
goodnight.

In that moment, a part of her feels relieved, but Clarke didn’t recognize that yet. Instead, she basked
in her post-orgasm bliss.

In a good mood and happy to have the house to herself, she texted Raven and Octavia to ask them if
they were free and wanted to come over for alcohol, pizza and bad television. By some miracle,
neither of them had any plans this Friday and that’s how, nearly an hour later, Clarke finds herself
opening the door for her two best friends.

“Party time, Griffin!” Raven yells as she enters and Clarke rolls her eyes at Octavia, who enters the
apartment in much more civilized manner.

They brought three pizzas from their favorite place, three bottles of wine and two bottles of vodka.
As Clarke looks at the bottles now presented on her dinner-table, she thinks that maybe they have a
problem, but quickly shakes that thought of with a laugh.

Raven, who was in the kitchen getting glasses for their drinks, whips around to look at her, then
looks around the room is if she’s trying to find the source of laughter and finally settles on Clarke
with a suspicious look on her face.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?”

Clarke scoffs in response, “What? I can’t laugh at something in my own head?”

“No? And that sounds weird. Why are you weird?” Raven steps closer to Clarke and Clarke
involuntarily takes a step back.

“Octavia is right, something is different about you. O! Come look at Clarke with me.”

Octavia emerges from the living room, where she was setting up the couches so they could lie down
on them.

“Why?” She asks, not particularly interested.

“Because you’re right, something is different.”

Octavia and Raven stand side by side, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and Clarke
stands by the dinner table, nervously playing with the hem of her shirt.

She knows she has to tell them, they’re her best friends. And if she doesn’t tell them and Finn
mentions something to them, they’ll get pissed she didn’t share.

Plus, Lexa did something with her fingers today that may have made Clarke a religious woman and
that is something she can’t keep from her idiot best friends.

“Jesus fuck, will you stop with the scrutinizing?” She asks, throwing her arms up.

“Not until you start talking.” Octavia supplies.

“Fine. Pour me a triple and I’ll talk.”

Raven looks somewhere in between impressed and concerned. “A triple? That bad?”

Clarke groans. “That good.”

Fifteen minutes later they’re sitting on the couches, pizzas on their lap, vodka still burning their throat
and all eyes on Clarke.

“Okay, first of all, I need you guys to not judge me. I have thought this through and I am in complete
charge.”

“Clarke, when have we ever judged you?”

Clarke fixes Octavia with a glare and Raven puts up her hand in an attempt to protect Octavia from
bodily harm.

“Okay, what she means is, when have we ever judged you when it was real serious?”
“Yeah, that. Just spill, Griffin.”

Clarke takes a deep breath. “You know how Finn and I haven’t been sleeping together for a while.”

They nod. Raven, of course, has to say something. “Painfully obvious, yeah.”

“Thank you, Raven. Anyway, I was going fucking crazy, like to the point that I almost couldn’t get
myself off anymore, you know? And Finn and I were constantly fighting and I was getting cranky,
so I figured, I just need to have sex. I need to have sex and I will be fine.”

Raven and Octavia’s eyes begin to widen in understanding; they know where this going. It can’t
have any other outcome.

“So I discussed it with Finn, told him I just needed someone to have sex with and we’d be fine. And
after a while he agreed, so I posted an ad on Craigslist an-“

“CRAIGSLIST?” Raven exclaims. “You posted an ad on Craigslist? What the fuck were you
thinking?”

“It’s a miracle you’re not fucking dead yet.” Octavia adds.

“Guys, what the fuck! I don’t know what I was thinking, I wasn’t thinking. I don’t fucking know,
okay?”

Raven and Octavia soften at that and they motion for Clarke to continue.

“Did you get a lot of hits?” Raven wiggles her eyebrows.

“Tons.” Clarke smirks.

“Good for you, Griffin.” Raven holds her hand up for Clarke to high-five and with a shake of her
head, she does.

“Anyway, I got into contact with someone. And that’s what’s different. I’ve been having sex.” She
stares at Raven and Octavia, nervously awaiting their reaction.

They seem to be thinking of what thing to say and what questions to ask first and then speak at the
same time.

“Since when?”

“How many times?”

“Since last Friday and twice including today.” Clarke is about to take a bite from her pizza when she
backtracks with a casual wave of her hand. “Well, we’ve seen each other twice, but I came like six
times.”

Their jaws drop at the same time and Clarke can’t help but smirk at them.

“Six times?”

“Today?”

Clarke simply nods.

“You are telling us everything, Griffin.”

 now somehow we're changing our ways
Chapter Summary

Clexa gets domestic, Anya shows up, Finn is an asshole and Raven and Octavia are the
voice of reason. Also, Clarke does a thing.

Chapter Notes

I'm feeling generous today, so here's chapter 3. There's no smut, sorry guys, but that is
because chapter 4 will be mostly smutty - hint, it's Lexa's payback. I am still pretty sure
you will like this one, because there's cute Clexa and some setting up for the progression
of the storyline.

As a general rule to their arrangement, Clarke doesn’t linger too long after they actually had sex.
There is no cuddling or helping each other get dressed – or one watching while the other gets dressed
– and there is definitely no sleeping over.

But this particular Friday afternoon Clarke can’t quite get herself out of Lexa’s bed. She had
observed the first time around that her mattress is ridiculously soft and the pillows are insanely
comfortable, and don’t get her started on the way Lexa’s sheets feel against Clarke’s naked body.
She could live in Lexa’s bed.

Lexa chuckles very softly under her breath as she enters the bedroom, staring for just a second at
Clarke rolled up in her sheets.

Clarke’s head emerges from beneath the sheets at the sound and she looks up to see a stark naked
Lexa leaning against the doorframe with two mugs in hand. Clarke unabashedly stares and Lexa
smirks.

She saunters her way over to the bed as Clarke sits up against the headboard, the sheets pool at her
waist but she doesn’t attempt to cover her own nakedness; Lexa has seen it all already.

Clarke eyes Lexa’s legs as she makes her way over and she doesn’t even blush when Lexa has to
clear her throat to get Clarke’s attention again. By now, three weeks in, they are both very aware of
their attraction for each other.

Clarke’s takes the steaming mug of tea, holds it in both her hands and waits until Lexa is settled
beside her before she takes a first tentative sip. She hums softly at the sweet taste of honey.

“I’m so glad you don’t have anywhere to be tonight. I don’t think I can walk for another hour at
least.”

Lexa chuckles again, louder this time and Clarke eyes her with an amused expression. “That’s
adorable.”
“Oh please.” Lexa scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she can’t help the nearly invisible blush tainting her
cheeks and Clarke thinks that may be even more adorable. It should have been her fourth warning
sign.

“Anyway, you will need to get up soon. I have a dinner for one to prepare.”

“That sounds so sad.”

“I am anything but.” Truly, Lexa has gotten quite fond of the silence and as a writer, she appreciates
being alone. The space allows her to think without interruption.

“So you’re never lonely?”

“I do have friends, Clarke.”

“You do? I’ve never heard you talk about them.”

Lexa looks at her with a mischievous smirk. “That is because we don’t talk much.”

“Touché.” Clarke smirks as well and holds out her mug for Lexa’s to cling. After that they fall into a
silence as they drink their tea. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is heavy with something.

Probably with the fact that they indeed don’t talk often. They’re not friends, they barely know
anything about the other’s life and that isn’t a problem, because their arrangement was to have sex
together. Not have heart-to-hearts about their life and times.

That’s also why Clarke never stays longer than fifteen minutes after they have recovered from the
last round. In those fifteen minutes they talk about what they’ll be doing that weekend, thank each
other for the amazing orgasms and then part with a simple “see you next week”.

Clarke doesn’t really know what’s different this time and why she decided to stay longer than usual.
Maybe because Finn has been acting weird since he got back from his trip on Tuesday. Maybe
because Lexa was still on top of her, softly nipping at her neck, long after they had both recovered
and then promptly got up to make tea and the thought of leaving never even crossed Clarke’s mind.

It’s crossing her mind now and as she’s finishing the last of her tea and she’s thinking that maybe she
overstayed her welcome. And even if she hadn’t, even if she was welcome to stay as long as she
wanted, she should be leaving.

Staying and talking and basically doing anything other than devouring each other is breaking their
hastily set up rules. And they don’t have many to begin with, so they shouldn’t be breaking any of
them.

There’s only five really.

1. No kissing on the mouth

2. No staying after sex/sleeping over
3. No communication outside of the occasional text to confirm details
4. No naming each other to friends and/or family
5. No feelings

That last one was obvious from the moment they began. Clarke isn’t actually in this to cheat – even
though sometimes it very much feels like she is doing just that and she knows in the back of her mind
that that’s exactly what it looks like – and she can’t afford to develop feelings. Lexa isn’t even
looking for anything other than casual sex.
That’s what they are. Just two people having casual sex and if they start breaking the rules – which
they kind of already are, right now – then Clarke doesn’t know what they are anymore.

“I should be going.” Clarke sets her mug on the nightstand on her side of the bed and doesn’t look to
see Lexa nod absentmindedly, having contemplated the same things.

Clarke gets out of bed and doesn’t comment as she feels Lexa’s eyes follow her every movement
while she gets dressed. Maybe today they can break their rules for a bit, both the spoken and
unspoken ones, and next week they’ll be back to their usual arrangement.

Once fully dressed, Clarke enters the adjoining bathroom to brush her hair and wash her face and
Lexa remains in the bed for a moment longer. But then she gets up too, intent on getting her dinner
ready and then continue writing the third chapter of her newly-planned novel.

As she pulls on her jeans, she doesn’t hear the front door open and she doesn’t realize someone is
inside her apartment until it is too late and Anya’s voice reaches her from the living room.

“Lex, are you home?”

She stands up in a panic, her bra hanging limply from her hand and her eyes meet Clarke’s, who just
came from the bathroom and looks just as panicked.

“Lex?”

“What do we do?” Lexa whispers to Clarke, completely ignoring her sister.

“Say something, go to her. Fuck, I don’t know.”

“Clarke, I can’t go to her, I am half naked.”

“Well, then don’t be half naked.”

Lexa rolls her eyes at that, very mature. She quickly hooks her bra behind her back and pulls on the
t-shirt Clarke throws at her. Still in panic she runs her fingers through her hair to comb out the tangles
Clarke made, but Clarke is already ushering her out the door.

It closes behind her and she stands completely still, back against the door, frozen in her shock. Anya
turns her head at the sound and looks at her little sister from where she’s rummaging through some
bags in the kitchen and immediately cocks her eyebrow at Lexa’s appearance.

Neither of them speaks, they are completely silent and Lexa swallows hard as she feels Anya’s gaze
scrutinizing her. But then Anya smirks and turns around completely to lean against the kitchen
counter.

“I’m glad you’re having sex again.”

Lexa recoils in surprise. “I... What? No.” She can actually hear Clarke groan through the closed door
that she’s still leaning against.

“Lexa, I’ve known you your whole life. I can tell you are having sex.”

“As if, Anya. I’m not having sex.”

“Your hastily thrown on shirt says otherwise. It’s inside out, by the way.”

Lexa quickly looks down at herself to see that her shirt is indeed inside out. She groans and bangs
her head back against the door.

“Fine, I’m having sex. Happy?”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Happy.”

“I... Uh, well...” Lexa’s brows furrow as she contemplates the answer. She hadn’t really stopped to
think of what her arrangement with Clarke had done for her mood and general state of being. She
supposes that yes, she is happy. Or at least happier than she was a month ago. Not that she was
unhappy, she was just... fine, living, whatever.

She doesn’t actually answer Anya’s question, but Anya’s smirk shows that she got her answer
nonetheless.

“So, is this girl any good?” Anya asks casually, as she turns around again to continue taking out the
groceries she had bought.

Lexa goes bright red at the question. “Anya.” She hisses in reprimand. At this, Anya turns around
again, a questioning look on her face.

“What? It’s not like we’ve never talked about your sex life.”

Lexa’s face is still somewhat red and her eyes are wide and she’s opening and closing her mouth in
an attempt to say something.

Yes, she has disclosed certain details about her sex life with Anya before and that’s not the problem.
But she’s not going to gush about Clarke to her sister while Clarke is still in her bedroom, most likely
listening to their conversation. She needs a way out, at least for now. She needs to figure out a way
to get Anya from the kitchen, or even better, her apartment, so Clarke can leave without being seen.

“Oh.” Anya’s realization pierces Lexa’s thoughts. “Oh, she’s still here.” Anya is now sporting a
fantastic grin that’s only getting bigger and brighter as Lexa tries to inch even closer to the door –
which is pretty impossible since she is practically melted against it already.

“No?” Lexa tries and she once again hears Clarke groan inside her bedroom, followed by a muffled
“oh for fuck’s sake” and then some shuffling.

Confused, Lexa turns her head to look at the door, as if she can look through it to see what Clarke is
doing. But then the door opens and Lexa nearly falls backwards into bedroom if it wasn’t for Clarke
reaching out and holding her up.

They stare at each other for a second too long – Lexa surprised to see that Clarke is actually leaving
the apartment with Anya watching and Clarke smirking at Lexa’s wide eyes and red cheeks.
Adorable.

“You are pretty goddamn useless, you know?” Lexa only furrows her brow in response. “Okay, I’m
just going to do the walk of shame now. We’ll talk.”

She doesn’t even wait for a reply from Lexa, just turns around and marches out of the apartment
without so much as a glance at Anya.
Lexa is left standing in the doorway of her bedroom, staring after Clarke dumbfounded.

And Anya? Anya just really wants to know the story about how this girl got her baby sister – her 28-
year-old, self-proclaimed badass with a degree in literature, baby sister – so speechless.

//

Clarke had done quite a few walks of shame in her life, but never has she had to do it in front of her
lover’s sister. And despite all the things in her life Clarke wasn’t sure of, she was sure she never,
ever, wanted to do that again.

They had known all along that meeting in Lexa’s apartment was risky and they had briefly discussed
it twice that they needed to agree on a different place to meet, but those conversations were quickly
postponed in favor of actually having sex.

Clarke knows now that they aren’t going to have anymore sex until they come to a decision on that
particular topic. And she has spent the past two days thinking about nothing else, but it turns out that
it’s not so easy to think of a place to have sex with your fuck buddy who no one but you and your
friends should know about.

In times of stress, Clarke usually takes to painting and this time is no exception. So she wrecks her
brain over this dilemma in her safe space: her gallery.

She bought it four years ago, as birthday present to herself for her 23rd birthday, with the money her
father had left her after his death. She hadn’t touched her inheritance for five whole years, wanting to
use the last thing she had of her father on something that she knew he would be proud of.

They had always shared a passion for art. He loved watching Clarke draw and often encouraged her
to paint more, but in her teens she preferred drawing. Then after her father died when she was
sixteen, she started to paint more, as a way to remember him.

When her inheritance was released to her at 18, she bought an easel – she still has it – and left the rest
in her savings. But as the years passed by and she painted more and more, her apartment became too
small to house the many canvases.

It had been in her mind for some time to open a gallery, where she could paint in private and
showcase her art, but also to simply have a place to store it all. Then, the day before her 23rd
birthday, she was on her way to do some last groceries and missed her stop at the subway because
she got distracted by the boy sitting in front her.

He was drawing and she could see glimpses of it and it was gorgeous and Clarke couldn’t tear her
eyes away.

She realized she had missed her stop when she was three stops further. Hurriedly, she got out,
stumbled onto the street and as she tried to figure out exactly where she was, her eyes fell on an open
office space.

Well, it used to be an office according to the stickers on the windows. Now it was empty and up for
sale and the windows allowed her a clear view into the building. It was large, bright and she knew it
was perfect.

So the next day she made some calls, decided not to flinch at whatever price they named, and bought
the space. Two weeks later she was the proud owner of her own gallery and she knew she had spent
her father’s money well.
Four years later, she still loves her own little place. It is hers, and a little bit her father’s, and she
won’t ever leave if she has a say in it.

Deep in thought, she jumps a little when she hears the doorbell. Since she paints in a secluded
backroom and naturally locks the door of the gallery when she is alone, she installed a doorbell in
case her friends or family come to visit unexpectedly.

When she enters the gallery she immediately sees Alie Sherwood waving at her through the window,
Clarke enthusiastically waves back. When she opens the door, Alie greets her with a bright smile.

“Hey Clarke, I’m not sure if you have any shows or anything planned in the next week, but I just
wanted to let you know that the apartment above your gallery has become available and we’ll be
starting viewings next week. So it’s just a heads up that it might get busy for a few days.”

“Oh, thanks. I had nothing planned, so it’s not a problem, really.”

“Alright then! Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” She laughs, motioning to the paint all over Clarke’s
clothes and hands. Clarke thanks her again before closing the door and returning to her painting.

It isn’t until four hours later, when her back is sore and her eyes become tired and she decides it’s
time to go home, that Clarke realizes what Alie came to notify her of. And it isn’t until she’s outside
and sees the poster on the door that is the entrance to the apartment above her gallery, that Clarke
realizes what that means.

The apartment above her gallery is opening up.

Lexa isn’t even the first thing that comes to mind – she is second though. No, this apartment could be
perfect for the many times she stays way past midnight to paint or the weeks before a show when
planning gets the best of her. And yes, this apartment could also be perfect for her meetings with
Lexa.

She has to have this apartment.

Clarke wakes early, earlier than she usually does and immediately jumps out of bed and grabs her
phone from the nightstand. She doesn’t even have to scroll through her contacts to find the number
she’s looking for, Alie being the second person in her list.

Alie picks up on the third ring, the way she says her name letting Clarke know that’s she surprised
by the phone call.

“Hey, I was just thinking about the apartment above my gallery opening up and I remember you said
you would start the viewings next week, but do you already have like, a waiting list for people who
are interested?”

“No, we don’t, we’re going to put the apartment on the website this afternoon, but I expect that after
that the calls will be coming in pretty quickly. It’s a beautiful apartment.”

“In that case, could I ask a favor?”

“That depends on the favor, Clarke.” Alie chuckles.

Alie is the real estate agent that sold Clarke her gallery and when she found out that Clarke was
planning on turning the space into a gallery she promised to come by when she was all settled in.
Alie had been so impressed with Clarke’s work that she bought two paintings on the spot and
commissioned her for a third and they have been in touch ever since.

“Could you not put the apartment on the website yet? Or maybe have me take a look before you’re
supposed to put it up?”

“Are you saying you’re interested, Clarke?”

“Yes, very much so.”

Clarke can hear Alie hum as she thinks it over and Clarke is actually getting nervous. It’s not like her
life depends on getting this apartment, but it would be nice and convenient and it’s been a while
since Clarke has done something of this size for herself.

(Yes, she is not counting getting gloriously fucked once a week by maybe the hottest woman she has
ever met.)

“I need to have it online by twelve o’clock, so if you can be there within the hour, I can have you
take a look.”

“Really? Okay, yes! I can definitely be there within an hour; actually I can be there in half an hour.”

Alie laughs softly. “Half an hour then. See you soon, Clarke.”

Forty-five minutes later Clarke is standing in the middle of an empty living room, looking around the
humble apartment. It isn’t large, in comparison it’s smaller than her current apartment, but that’s only
because the bedroom and kitchen aren’t as big. And the size doesn’t even matter to Clarke, because it
feels good. It’s perfect, just like her gallery had been perfect from the moment she stepped inside.

And the best part is that everything is in excellent condition. She doesn’t have to paint anything, she
just needs furniture and the place is good to go.

“I’ll take it.”

“What?”

“Don’t put it online, I’ll take it.”

“I haven’t even told you the price yet.”

“I’m guessing it’s around what I paid for my gallery, maybe more, but that’s okay. I have the money.
I want it.”

And that’s how, with the last of her father’s inheritance, Clarke buys the apartment above her gallery.

(Her intentions may be much less innocent than when she bought the gallery, but she’s sure her
father would still be very happy for her.)

//

She tells Lexa first.

“I did a thing.”
“Clarke? I think you may have the wrong number.”

“No, Lexa, I definitely have the right number.”

“Okay. So what did you do?”

“I think it’s safe to assume that neither of us wants to be in a situation like last Friday ever again.”
Lexa merely groans in response, still a little mortified. “That’s what I thought. So we need
somewhere to meet, yes?”

“Yes. But Clarke, we said we’d discuss this, so perhaps this Friday we should discuss it before
anything else.”

“No need.”

“What do you mean?”

“I own a gallery and two days ago I found out that the apartment above my gallery became available,
so yesterday I went to see it and just three hours ago I signed the contract and now I own an
apartment.”

Lexa is silent for the longest time and Clarke actually pulls her phone away from her ear to check if
the call hasn’t disconnected, but the timer is still counting and Lexa is still there.

“Lexa?” She asks, just to be sure.

“You bought an apartment just so we could have sex without anyone potentially walking in on us?”

Thinking back, it does seem like that’s why she did it, but Clarke swears to God, it isn’t.

“So full of yourself. No, I didn’t just buy it for us, I also bought it for convenience and because it’s
super cute.”

“You bought an apartment?”

“Yes, I did. Do you need me to repeat it once more?”

“No, I’m sorry, Clarke. I’m just a little surprised, is all.”

“Yeah, honestly, me too. But anyway, I’m not sure if I can have it furnished by Friday, so maybe we
need to risk going to yours one more time.”

“There is really no more risk now Anya knows, so I don’t see any problem with that.”

“Great! I’ll see you Friday then.”

“Clarke, before you go. There is something I would like to try this Friday, but I just wanted to run it
by you first.”

Clarke gulps, now she is the one staying silent for much too long. It’s just that Clarke’s mind is going
over a hundred scenarios of what Lexa could possibly want to try and she can’t really shake some of
those images.

“Clarke?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Her voice is deeper than it was before and she almost knows that Lexa can hear it and
that she knows what that means.

“It’s okay. I just wanted to–”

“No!” Clarke interrupts her. “Don’t tell me, surprise me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure. I mean, I’ll probably like it anyway and if I don’t, I’ll tell you then. Just
surprise me.”

“Okay.”

“’Kay. Well... I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Friday.”

They stay silent for a moment longer and then Clarke ends the call, excited about Friday, like she
always is. But there’s something else, some feeling in her stomach that she can’t quite place.

She’s noticed it before, when she would think of Lexa or briefly discuss her with Octavia and
Raven, but she doesn’t know what it is or where it comes from.

And so she does what she has done so many times before: ignore the feeling.

//

Telling Finn isn’t as easy. The entire time during dinner Clarke is planning her words. She knows
she shouldn’t tell him that the apartment will also be used for her meetings with Lexa, but Finn isn’t
stupid and he’ll probably guess. Still, that doesn’t mean she should cite it as one of the reasons why
she bought the apartment.

But that’s the thing; it is only one of the reasons. All the reasons are true too. She got the place
because it’s convenient for her career as an artist. And she’s a grown woman, she can do with her
money as she pleases.

She decides to tell him just before they’re finished with dinner, because knowing him he’ll be going
to bed immediately after, stating he is tired after working late again.

“Finn, I need to tell you something.” She begins, rather tentatively, and he looks up from his plate
with mild panic in his eyes.

He places his fork and knife on the table and takes a deep breath, as if preparing himself for bad
news.

“The apartment above my gallery became available and I bought it.” At first he looks confused, like
he was expecting her to say something completely different. Then her words sink in and Clarke can
actually see the moment he understands.

“When?” One single word, that’s his only response.

“Today.”

“You just bought an apartment today? Without discussing it first? How long have you known about
this?” His voice rises as he goes on, but he doesn’t yell. He never does.
“I only found out last Sunday and I didn’t discuss it because I don’t think I have to discuss what I do
with my father’s money.”

He is silent for some time, Clarke can see the gears turning in his head and then he looks at her,
levels her with a glare that’s so intense Clarke almost flinches.

“Did you do this because of... because of him?”

Clarke’s brows furrow, honestly unsure of what he’s talking about. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that, Clarke. Don’t pretend you didn’t buy an apartment just so you can
fuck some dude you don’t even know.”

She realizes a lot of things in that moment, wants to say so much, but she stays silent as she tries to
decide on what to say first. She feels herself becoming angry.

She knows – has always known – that Finn doesn’t like her Friday-afternoon activities, but she had
discussed it with him, didn’t execute her plan until he approved. He has always known about it, she
has always been honest about it. Was, and still is, willing to share who she is sleeping with, but Finn
has constantly made it extremely clear that he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to talk about it
all and every time she brings it up, he shuts her out.

Lately they haven’t been talking much in general, so Clarke has given up on easing his worries all
together.

When she proposed this idea she honestly believed that it was the best thing for the both of them.
And it honestly could have been, if Finn hadn’t been working so much, hadn’t been so distant and so
cold.

Some nights she wondered if he became like that because she decided she needed a fuck buddy, but
then she remembers that the only reason she ever needed a fuck buddy is because he wouldn’t sleep
with her anymore, because he was becoming cold.

Sure, there could have been a million other solutions to their problem, but Finn wasn’t bringing any
to the table and Clarke and her sex-deprived mind really weren’t in any state to think of rational
solutions.

She sighs, then takes deep breath, having recollected her thoughts and regained her calm.

“First of all, Finn, I primarily bought this apartment for myself, so I don’t have to go home in the
middle of the night after I lost track of time while painting. Or so I have a place to stay when I am
planning a show and will probably spend every hour of every day in my gallery preparing. That’s
why I did it.”

She takes another breath, she has to, because she doesn’t want to yell.

“Second of all, I am not fucking some dude I don’t even know. In fact, if you had just once asked me
about it, you would know I am not fucking a dude at all. Her name is Lexa and I happen to know
enough about her to feel safe and comfortable.”

And with that she stands from her chair and grabs her plate to take it to the kitchen. She takes her
time to throw away her leftover food, considers washing her plate but ultimately decides to just dump
in the sink.

Leaning against the counter, she takes another breath and while a part of her feels like she should be
going back to Finn to talk to him and see if they can resolve this fight tonight, she really doesn’t want
to. She hates going to bed angry, but this time she doesn’t have the energy or the will to settle things.

Determined she walks back to the part of the living room where the dinner table is set up, where Finn
is still sitting silently in his chair. She looks at him, almost feels pity, but anger is the overshadowing
emotion as she leans against the back of her chair and looks at him still.

“And then another thing,” she begins and waits for him to look up, “I get that you’re upset, but I
wouldn’t have to be fucking her if you would just get over whatever the fuck is going on with you
and fuck me.”

Without another word she leaves and goes to bed.

That night she doesn’t feel the bed dip with the weight of Finn’s body and she’s glad of it.

That night she dreams of Lexa and drinking tea in bed and that should have been her fifth warning
sign.

//

The next day is Wednesday and she’s having her weekly lunch date with Octavia and Raven – last
month they had to reschedule to Sunday because Octavia had an important meeting at work that
Wednesday, but usually they meet every Wednesday.

“Clarke?” Octavia’s soft voice is laced with concern and Clarke looks up from where she was staring
at a spot on the table. “Will you please tell us what’s wrong?”

They have known each other almost their entire lives and they understand each other’s personalities
seamlessly. They can see when Clarke is distracted, but they can also differentiate between a good
and bad distraction. It isn’t lost on them that this time, it’s bad.

“Finn and I fought last night.”

“What about?”

“What do you think?” The trio is silent for a moment then, because it’s obvious what the fight was
about and neither Octavia nor Raven knows what to say. But it’s Clarke who breaks the silence
again. “Sometimes I just wonder if it’s my fault. I mean, it has to be my fault right?”

“No, Clarke, it’s not your fault. He’s been distant, has been for months.”

“And I’ve been sleeping with someone else.”

“Well, yeah, you have but...” Octavia falls silent then, not entirely sure what to say to that.

“Look, Clarke, you may be sleeping with someone else, but he knows about it. You told him from
the beginning and even gave him the chance to argue and disagree.” Raven offers.

“Yeah, and when he argued I convinced him to let me do this, I convinced him that this would help
us.”

“First of all, Griff, I know for a fact that his arguments probably weren’t very strong.” Raven says
and Clarke can’t help but smile, thankful that her friends know her so well. “Second of all, I’m pretty
sure it actually could have, but you said he doesn’t even want to talk about it, so really, whose fault is
it?”
“I said the same thing.”

“What?”

“That it could have helped us, but that he’s the one who won’t even talk anymore.”

“Clarke,” Octavia begins tentatively, “maybe you should begin considering if your relationship is still
worth it.”

Both Raven and Clarke turn to Octavia with surprised eyes. She’s never been the one to suggest
breaking off a relationship because there’s tension and fights; she’s always been all about fighting for
something until there’s nothing left to fight for.

“I can’t just leave him because we’re not having sex anymore, O.”

“It’s not just about the sex anymore, Clarke. I’m beginning to think it never really was. He’d been
distant even before you stopped having sex. And you know, even if it was just about the sex, I
would say the same thing. You look miserable, Clarke.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“She doesn’t mean it like that and you know it.” Raven interjects. “And she’s right. You’re blaming
yourself for something you had no control over. You’re miserable and in fact, the only times we’ve
seen a glimpse of the Clarke we know and love was when you were telling us about your mysterious
lady friend.”

Raven makes Clarke smile again and manages to bring the first image of Lexa to mind since Clarke
woke up that morning, feeling sad and yes, miserable.

(The thought of Lexa makes her smile another smile, one that Raven and Octavia don’t miss and that
is their first indication.)

“I did something, guys.” Clarke admits after a while.

“Oeh, is it dirty? Tell me all about it!” Raven leans in, eager to hear of Clarke’s stories and Octavia
smiles, glad to see Clarke’s mood lightened a bit.

“No, it’s not dirty.” Clarke laughs. “I bought the apartment above my gallery. It became available last
week and I signed the contract yesterday. That’s also what started the fight last night.”

Octavia and Raven are silent for a moment and that seems to be the general first response to Clarke’s
seemingly big reveal. But then their expressions change and Clarke can see the exact moment they
come to a certain conclusion – which seems to be the general second response.

“Clarke Griffin, did you buy a sex cave?”

“Oh my god, Raven, no, I did not buy a sex cave.” Clarke can’t help her laughter and in that moment
she is extremely grateful for her two best friends.

“So you did not buy an apartment just to have hot sex? Because Clarke, if you did, then you would
be my hero.” And just like that Raven makes her feel good about the exact same thing that had her
feeling so down.

“I did not. Well, not completely at least. I bought it because it’s convenient.” Raven eyes her
skeptically and then Clarke breaks out in a huge grin. “And to have hot uninterrupted sex.”
 and here with you i could spend my days
Chapter Summary

Clarke invites Lexa to her new apartment (sex cave) and Lexa teaches Clarke a lesson.

Chapter Notes

First of all, I don't know where to begin. I'm sorry for this immense delay, but as I said, I
am not one for scheduled updates. However, this is something even I hadn't intended.
At first I got stuck with some writer's block and just as I was okay, the event-that-shall-
not-be-named happened and I was heartbroken, guys. I had it rough for a few days. But
we need Clexa to get us through this and that's why I present you with 6000 words of
Clexa smut. Warning: mild bondage.

Secondly, it's unbeta'd. I have read most parts twice to sort out any errors, but I wanted
to get this out to you guys before I go away for the weekend. So I might update it on
Monday if necessary.

And third, thank you to all the kind readers who have left comments. This one is for
you. Enjoy and long live Heda.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

After the initial somewhat shock of Clarke impulsively buying an apartment settles down, Octavia
and Raven decided that Clarke needed furniture for her new place. Luckily, she still had something
left over from her savings and Octavia and Raven both decided to get Clarke a housewarming gift,
even though she wouldn’t really be living in the apartment.

So on Thursday, Raven and Clarke are decorating the apartment – Octavia has work. They bought a
lot of furniture from the thrift shop, resulting in a wonderfully comfortable leather sofa, elegant coffee
table and six lamps. The rest they got from furniture stores, but since nearly everything was a show
model, Clarke received a generous discount on all her purchases.

Now the apartment is nearly good to go way before Clarke had anticipated and as she looks around
the room, she’s considering having Lexa over tomorrow already.

“You’re seeing her tomorrow, right?” It’s like Raven can read her mind.

“Yeah.”

“Will you invite her here?”

“I’m thinking of it. I mean I have a bed.”

“Where did you even meet before?”

“At her place. That wasn’t really part of my plan, but we literally fell in bed the first time around and
then it never came up again.”

Raven grins at her as she hands Clarke a mug of coffee and promptly sits down besides Clarke on
the couch.

“So what is she like?”

Clarke turns to her confused.

“I’ve been telling you about her for weeks.”

“No, you’ve been telling me about the sex, which sounds wonderful, I’m happy for you. But what
about her? What is she like?”

Clarke stares into her coffee before answering, honestly thinking about the question.

She knows Lexa is a writer and occasionally teaches at a University not too far from her place, she
knows that aside from writing them, Lexa loves to read books, but that’s a no-brainer.

She knows Lexa is kind at heart – the soft kisses to her body that Clarke has memorized by now are
a sure sign of that. She knows Lexa is gentle and passionate and that her laughter is rare not because
she has no sense of humor but because it is sophisticated.

But she doesn’t know her favorite color or the name of her first childhood pet, if she even had any.
She knew Lexa has a sister, now she knows her name and her face. But that’s about it.

Clarke realizes that while it was always her intention to just sleep with Lexa, she wants to get to
know her. She wants to know things about her mind and her heart, not just the way to navigate her
body.

“I honestly don’t know too much about her. We agreed that would be for the best.”

“Would you want to? Know about her, I mean.”

Yes, she does. But can she be honest about that with Raven? Won’t saying it out loud mean that
Lexa has more power than she should have?

“I guess.” Clarke shrugs, then gets up in an attempt to avoid discussing the topic further. She needs
to think about this first.

Raven lets her, simply following Clarke into the kitchen where she leans against the counter with a
smirk and a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“So, any sexy plans for tomorrow to… christen your new place?”

“I swear Raven, you are way too obsessed with my sex life.”

“Probably, but don’t try and change the subject.”

“I don’t have any plans, actually, but apparently Le- she,” Clarke quickly corrects when she realizes
that Raven and Octavia don’t know her name and she wants to keep it that way, “wants to try
something new.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“She wanted to tell me but I told her to surprise me, so I have no idea.”
“What if it turns out she’s super kinky?”

Clarke smirks at that, “You know I wouldn’t mind.”

//

That evening Clarke decides to text Lexa to let her know the address of the apartment, because
calling her with Finn asleep in the bedroom may not be the best way to go.

Clarke and Finn have barely talked since their fight the other day, but Clarke can’t feel guilty
anymore. Raven nearly beat it out of her. Instead, Clarke has decided to focus on Lexa.

Clarke
[10:57 PM] Hey, just letting you know that the apartment is all set and we can meet there tomorrow.

Lexa
[11:06 PM] It’s furnished already?

Clarke
[11:07 PM] I have very efficient friends.
[11:08 PM] It’s not much though, just the basics. But it has a bed, what more could we need?

Lexa
[11:09 PM] I have found sometimes a bed isn’t even needed.

Clarke’s mouth goes dry at the implication and her mind flashes with all the places Lexa could take
her on or against. Maybe Raven is going to be right, maybe Lexa has a kinky side to her that Clarke
has yet to discover.

Clarke
[11:13 PM] Do I need to soundproof my walls?

Lexa
[11:15 PM] I don’t know, Clarke, do you?

Clarke
[11:15 PM] Just be there at twelve.
[11:16 PM] Clarke shared a location.

Clarke puts her phone away, deciding not to wait for a reply and when she turns onto her back on
the couch and tries to close her eyes, she thinks she’s fucked.

With her track record and the things previous lovers – and unfortunately neighbors – have told her,
she should really consider soundproofing her walls.

With Lexa, so far she had been able to stifle the volume of her pleasure by biting down on her lip
and her hands and once, even on Lexa’s pillow. But with each time they met, Lexa started to know
her body better, working her up higher, holding her at the edge until she thought she’d never come
again and then letting her fall harder than ever before.

Soon, Clarke won’t be able to keep still anymore.

//

When Clarke opens the door for Lexa she is met with slightly widened, enthusiastic eyes.
“The gallery downstairs is yours?”

"Yes." Clarke steps aside to let her in, but Lexa remains in the hallway, a small smile gracing her
lips.

"Can I see?"

Clarke smirks, "I thought you were here to admire me, not my art?"

"Who says I can't do both?"

Lexa looks so… alive in this moment, so excited to see Clarke’s art and for a moment Clarke
wonders if it is because the art is hers or if Lexa is simply a huge fan of art. But she lets the thought
go pretty quickly, because her unadulterated excitement looks beautiful on her and she’s positively
glowing. And then Clarke looks her over, sees the motorcycle helmet hanging from her bag, the
leather jacket and the leather pants that make her legs look so great and God, Clarke has found that
every day without Lexa makes her body crave her even more and right now she can’t stand waiting
any longer.

“I say the art can wait.” She says, her voice husky with desperate lust. It makes Lexa blink and then
look at her, really look at her, and her posture changes immediately.

Within the blink of an eye she crosses the threshold and steps into Clarke’s space, her hands coming
up to cup Clarke’s cheeks as her body backs her against the nearest wall.

For a moment Clarke thinks she’s going to kiss her, for a moment Clarke thinks she’ll let her, but
then she feels urgent lips on her throat as her head is pushed back, long fingers curling in her hair.

Clarke can’t help the moan that escapes her as Lexa sucks hard and the sound seems to shake Lexa
from some kind of haze. She detaches her lips from Clarke’s skin, but doesn’t pull away and Clarke
can feel her heavy breaths.

When Lexa does pull away she makes it a point to lock eyes with Clarke and with a soft smile, she
apologizes, “Sorry, I-”

Clarke holds up a finger to silence her. “Okay,” her voice still deep with lust, her breath coming in
pants, “I’m suggesting a new rule. No more apologies.”

Clarke’s head falls back against the wall as she tries to regain her breath. And we haven’t even
started yet, she thinks with a smile.

Lexa places a gentle kiss on the spot she just practically attacked as she kicks the door closed with
one foot and whispers against Clarke’s skin, “No more apologies.”

They remain like that for some time and then Clarke remembers herself, pulling Lexa away from her
neck with one hand in her brown curls.

“So you drive a motorcycle?”

“I do.” Lexa answers uncertainly, as if the admission might get her in trouble.

Clarke just smirks in response, “I think that’s fucking hot.”

“You think I’m fucking hot?”

Clarke whimpers softly and Lexa tilts her head at the sound, but before she can comment on it,
Clarke replies. “Oh yeah, I think you’re fucking hot.” A pause and then, “Say it again.”

Lexa is clearly confused, “Say what again?”

“Fucking.”

Lexa is smirking now, catching on to what Clarke is, probably subconsciously, telling her.

“You want me to curse, Clarke?”

“Just say it again, it was hot.”

“Fucking hot?”

“Fuck.”

Lexa laughs then, actually laughs. It’s soft and deep and Clarke likes the sound of it. It makes her
smile, makes her heart swell with pride because she did that, she made Lexa laugh.

(And had she not been too focused on Lexa, had she been able to properly think, that would have
been her sixth warning sign.)

Suddenly Lexa steps back, giving Clarke space to move and air to breathe and she watches as Lexa
observes the apartment.

She takes a hesitant step from the hallway into the living room and then drops her bag onto the old
leather chair that matches the leather sofa as she looks around.

She turns to Clarke with a beautiful smile and says, “You were right. It is cute.”

Clarke smiles in return and then starts taking slow steps toward her. As she approaches, Lexa angles
her body towards Clarke, waiting for her to step into her space.

Once she’s close enough, Clarke takes hold of the leather strap hanging from Lexa’s jacket. She lets
her fingers play with it for a few seconds and then tugs, pulling Lexa closer to her.

They’re inches apart, their noses nearly touching and Lexa can’t help but look down at Clarke’s lips.
Clarke can’t help it either, eyeing the way Lexa’s bottom lip pouts out, but then she takes a deep
breath before recollecting herself and locking with Lexa’s green eyes again.

“Thank you, but I think you should stop talking and start showing me what you have in mind for
me.” And just like that, she turns on her heels and marches into the bedroom.

Lexa is left staring after her, lips tingling from the remnants of feeling Clarke’s breath on them.

She shrugs out of her jacket and drapes it over the back of the leather chair, then unhooks her helmet
from her bag before she hoists the bag over her shoulder and follows Clarke into the bedroom.

Clarke is already undressing, her shirt lying discarded on the floor and nimble fingers working on the
button of her jeans. Lexa leans against the doorframe as she watches Clarke and Clarke slows her
movements when she realizes Lexa’s eyes are on her.

Slowly she pushes her jeans down her legs, allowing Lexa a very generous view of her cleavage as
she bends down. Clarke looks up to see Lexa’s jaws working; she can almost hear her teeth grinding
against each other.
With her jeans gone, she stands up again, still eyeing Lexa as her hand disappears behind her back.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Clarke husks.

“I might.” Lexa challenges.

“Not a very exciting surprise then.” She expects a reply as she undoes the clasp of her bra, but Lexa
remains silent and her eyes have long since left her face; now gazing at her chest as she patiently
waits for Clarke to continue undressing.

When the bra has joined the shirt and jeans on the ground and Clarke reaches for the waistband of
her panties, Lexa springs into action.

She moves to Clarke, swatting her hands away as she rests her own on Clarke’s hips.

“Leave those on.”

Clarke simply nods as Lexa’s thumbs draw slow circles on her abdomen, just above her panties.
Then Lexa tilts her head toward the bed as she lets go of Clarke.

“On the bed.” Her tone is authoritative and leaves no room for discussion and it sends a shiver down
Clarke’s spine. She gulps as she moves to sit down on the bed and Lexa’s eyes follow her every
move.

As Clarke sits on the edge of the bed, expectantly staring up at Lexa, she shakes her head
disapprovingly, small smirk on her lips.

“Lie down.” Her voice seems to get deeper every time she speaks and Clarke seems to get wetter as
a result.

She lies down, always keeping eye contact and taunting Lexa as she props herself comfortably
against the pillows. Lexa swallows hard as she watches Clarke’s breasts, her mouth falling open just
slightly.

She takes a deep breath, then moves toward the bed, and leans over Clarke to drop her bag on the
mattress. Clarke looks at it, feeling both nervous and excited, because whatever Lexa has planned for
her, her bag is involved somehow.

Lexa moves onto mattress; first one knee touches Clarke’s thigh, then effortlessly she swings the
other leg over her body and straddles Clarke.

There is something inexplicably erotic about the feeling of Lexa’s leather-clad legs straddling her
naked body – and Clarke can’t help but reach out, ever so slightly, to touch Lexa’s knees –
something intoxicating about the feeling of Lexa’s weight resting comfortably on her.

“I have to say,” Lexa’s voice pulls Clarke from her thoughts, “that I was worried at first.” She pauses
to lightly run her fingers over Clarke’s stomach, tracing invisible patterns.

Clarke wants to ask her what she means, but her voice is lost in her throat.

Lexa looks up then, as if she heard Clarke’s question in her mind and continues drawing circles
around Clarke’s bellybutton as they look at each other.

“When you said we could meet here.” She explains. “I was worried I wouldn’t be able to execute my
payback.”
Then her eyes leave Clarke’s and settle somewhere above her head and Clarke arches her back so
she can look back and see what Lexa is looking at. The movement is enough to push their heated
centers together and Lexa forcefully pushes Clarke back down with a growl.

Clarke looks back at Lexa with wide eyes, lips parted, breath already coming heavier as she begins
to realize what Lexa is going to do.

Lexa smirks at Clarke’s expression. “I see my worries were misplaced.”

She removes her hands from Clarke’s body to grab her backpack. She pulls two long, dark red
pieces of cloth from it and Clarke audibly gasps.

Lexa wraps the material around her hand, eyeing it nonchalantly, as if she isn’t about to tie Clarke up
with them – as if she hasn’t imagined tying Clarke up with them for days now.

Unwrapping her hand and stretching the cloth between her hands, she looks at Clarke, looking for
permission, but in the same look telling her that she once she gives it she will be submitting to Lexa
completely. At least for the afternoon.

Clarke nods once, utterly aroused at the scenario Lexa is presenting her with. She can feel the
wetness pooling between her legs and her mind is running a mile a minute as she imagines the things
that are about to happen.

God, Raven was right. Lexa is kinky.

In an instant Lexa is hovering over her and Clarke hadn’t even felt her grab her hands until her arms
are resting beside her head and Lexa is already tying one of her hands to the metal bars of her bed’s
headrest. When the other hand is tied as well, Lexa sits up on her knees and Clarke instantly tests her
restraints. They’re tight, but not uncomfortable and the cloth is soft against her wrists.

Lexa is smirking as she looks down on a squirming Clarke.

“This, Clarke, will be an exercise in patience.” Lexa purposely clicks the ‘k’ in her name, because
she has noticed its effect before and sure enough, Clarke’s hands tighten around her restraints and her
jaw clenches as she swallows. Lexa smirks, her head tilted as she admires Clarke a moment longer.

Swiftly, Lexa stands from the bed, taking her backpack with her, which she drops on the ground
near Clarke’s clothes. And then, under Clarke’s watchful eyes, she takes off her shirt.

Clarke watches entranced, still mesmerized whenever Lexa reveals her body. She has several scars
all over her body, they’re not large or angry, they’re like her; small and delicate and Clarke wonders
about the stories behind each of them.

But still, despite the scars, Lexa is probably the most beautiful woman she has ever seen. She has
several tattoos too, which Clarke hasn’t spent too long staring at because she has always been so
intent on delivering pleasure. But she has noticed them, the colorful swirl of flowers and trees
spanning the left side of her back and parts of her side. The tribal on her right arm and like the scars,
the tattoos are like her too; beautiful and intricate and Clarke wonders about those stories too.

“Seen enough?” Lexa’s voice breaks her staring and Clarke can’t even blush at being caught,
because Lexa’s looking at her with her confident, cocky smile like she knows exactly what she does
to Clarke.

Clarke just nods in response, hands still holding onto her restraints because they’re itching to touch.
“Good, then you can help me.”

Clarke perks up, almost childlike, as if she’s being told they’ll go to her favorite museum the next
day. She watches as Lexa slowly moves her hands to the button of her pants and opens it.

“Should I keep this or on take it off?” Lexa’s toying with the zipper as she watches Clarke decide,
but the decision isn’t hard. Clarke loves seeing Lexa in those pants, it’s something she could get
very, very used to, but she wants to see Lexa in all her naked glory.

“Off.”

“You think I should take it off?” Clarke nods fervently and Lexa smiles. “Alright. I’ll keep it on
then.”

Clarke actually whines, looking at Lexa with the saddest and most pleading expression she has ever
seen, causing her to let out a soft laugh. But she doesn’t relent, instead moves her hands behind her
back to the clasp of her bra.

“And this? On or off?”

Clarke knows how this game works now, obviously Lexa won’t give her what she wants, so it’s
another easy decision. “On.”

“You want me to keep it on?” Clarke nods. “Are you sure?” Another nod. “Okay, I’ll leave it on
then.”

Clarke whines again, her eyes closing as her head falls back against the pillow. She can’t believe she
actually fell for that.

Seconds later Clarke feels the bed dip again and Lexa’s weight settles on top of her. Lexa starts
drawing circles around Clarke’s bellybutton again, looking the blonde over and smirking at the
desperate state she is already in.

Suddenly she leans down, her lips attaching to Clarke’s heated skin. Lexa starts a slow trail of wet
kisses up Clarke’s body and Clarke is squirming beneath her within seconds.

When she reaches Clarke’s collarbone she sucks a kiss that will probably leave a mark, but she
doesn’t care right now. She wants to mark her, she wants to leave something on her body, so Clarke
won’t forget the effect Lexa has on her, even if it’s only for a few days.

Clarke moans when Lexa bites down a little harder than intended and tugs at her restraints, really
wanting to grab hold of Lexa’s hair. But there’s no point to her struggle and Clarke has to admit that
this loss of control, this command to surrender, is turning her on immensely.

Lexa’s lips leave Clarke’s collarbone and trail up her throat to her ear and Lexa purposely presses her
torso flush to Clarke’s.

“I know what you want, Clarke.” She says her name in that special way, all tactics to drive Clarke
crazy. “And I’ll give it to you if you behave.”

Clarke hums, unable to use words and Lexa smirks against her skin. Lexa starts nipping at her throat
again, slowly descending and spending some extra time on that small bruise that’s already forming
on Clarke’s collarbone.

Then Lexa sits up slightly and shifts, resting her right leg between both of Clarke’s and as she settles
down again, pressing her entire body against Clarke, her thigh meets Clarke’s soaked panties.

Clarke lets out an appreciate sigh, thankful for the pressure, but Lexa doesn’t increase it and Clarke is
already becoming restless with the need for more. But she understands the game Lexa wants to play
and so she stays silent, instead tries to focus on the way Lexa is licking a kissing a slow trail to her
breasts.

A very slow trail. Because Lexa is intent on taking her time and teaching Clarke to patiently wait for
what she wants. And she’s enjoying the way Clarke tugs her at her restraints and angles her hips in
search of friction, she’s enjoying the small sounds coming from Clarke’s parted lips when Lexa pays
extra attention to just the right spots or isn’t going fast enough.

Lexa had been equal amounts of hesitant and excited when the image of tying Clarke up first came to
her. She didn’t want to ruin this thing between them, not so soon, but fact is that the passion between
them was never calm or collected.

Each time they had met was the same story: clothes being torn from their bodies and bodies being
thrown on the bed. Lexa loves it and she knows Clarke loves it too.

But she still contemplated her little fantasies for far longer than she’d admit. Ultimately, the reminder
of Clarke’s growl as she pulled on her hair and the way she demanded Lexa finished herself off,
made the decision for her.

Lexa had quickly learned that despite their vastly different personalities, they also had many
similarities and they were equals. Lexa intended their relationship to remain that way, so whatever
Clarke could do, well, Lexa can do.

As she reaches the curve of Clarke’s breast she changes from kissing and licking to active sucking.
Beneath her, Clarke is pushing her chest up in an attempt to get Lexa to relieve some of the tension
on her nipples.

But Lexa doesn’t budge and the more Clarke struggles, the softer Lexa becomes, actually moving
away to press sweet kisses on Clarke’s sternum, above her beating heart.

Clarke whines and Lexa bites her skin retaliation.

“Do you even know the meaning of patience, Clarke?”

Clarke doesn’t answer, just whines louder and Lexa moves up, their noses inches apart as she stares
Clarke down. But Clarke’s eyes are closed, because Lexa’s thigh offered some delicious pressure to
her aching clit for a fleeting second.

“Do you, Clarke?” Lexa demands and Clarke struggles to open her eyes and nod. “What does it
mean then?”

“It means,” Clarke’s voice cracks with desire and she has to swallow to wet her dry throat, “it means
I have to wait.”

“Exactly. It means you wait while I get to do whatever I want. And do you know what I want to do
right now?”

Clarke shakes her head, “What?”

Lexa smirks, “I want to kiss every inch of your skin until you feel like your body is on fire. I want to
kiss that bruise on your collarbone, I want to kiss the freckle on your left side, I want to kiss that spot
on your inner thigh that has you either giggling or moaning.”

Lexa takes a moment to breathe and let her words sink in and Clarke needs a moment to process that
Lexa already knows her body so well.

And then the words sink in and Clarke closes her eyes she shivers and gasps with the desire, images
of Lexa doing all that flashing before her.

Before she realizes, she’s opening her mouth to respond, “So kiss me.”

Lexa is taken aback, her eyes instantly darting to Clarke’s parted lips, because she left those out, but
she wants to kiss them too. And she’s not sure if Clarke is giving her permission now, if she’s
allowed to break the one rule Clarke is dead set on.

And Clarke swallows hard in an effort to wash away those words, because even she hears the plea in
them, hears the double meaning too and she’s not sure if she would mind if Lexa kisses her. Fuck,
she knows she won’t mind if Lexa kisses her, she wants her to, almost needs her to.

The lines are blurring and they’re blurring fast and for a moment Clarke is afraid there’s no going
back. Afraid the moment is ruined and Lexa will stutter an apology before untying her.

Clarke very much hopes she won’t, because she likes this Lexa. Dominant, with fire in her eyes and
that sexy smirk because she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Then Lexa’s eyes are on hers again, burning with something new before she smirks. “I will. I can
kiss you all day, Clarke, until you learn to wait and ask for what you want.”

“All day?” Clarke challenges. She may be tied up, she may be in need of release, but she’s loving
this power play.

“All. Day.”

“I’ve seen you bite your lip to keep from begging me to fuck you. You won’t last all day.”

Lexa smirks, leans impossibly closer and whispers, “The question isn’t whether I would last, it’s if
you will. Because you see, when your gasping and moaning gets too much, I can just fuck myself.
You seem to like that after all.”

Clarke gasps and then takes a deep breath as she continues to hold Lexa’s stare, because that’s all she
can do now.

“Now, I’ll ask you again. If you want me to take care of this,” Lexa purposely grinds her thigh
against Clarke’s center, feeling the wet heat even through the leather of pants, and Clarke moans
when she does it again and hits her clit just right.

Even Lexa has to take a breath before she continues. “If you want me to take care you, what do you
do?”

“I wait. I’ll behave.” Clarke breaths and Lexa rewards her with a few delicious thrusts as she suckles
on her earlobe.

Clarke manages to hold back the first two thrusts, only a small sigh escaping on the third, but she
moans on the fourth, her breath hitching in between and Lexa immediately stops.

Clarke tries to chase after Lexa’s thigh, her hips bucking up, but it doesn’t help and she falls back
against the bed with a defeated growl.

“Patience.” Lexa whispers one final time before she returns to her previous spot on Clarke’s sternum
and kisses it once more before moving down. She’s kissing Clarke’s ribs, pushed up due to her arms
being tied above her and she nips wherever she can.

Clarke likes to believe she has learned her lesson, so she stays as quiet as possible. Her eyes tightly
shut, her lips parted and only allowing small, broken breaths and short hums.

Lexa is satisfied enough, not wanting Clarke to be completely silent, because the loud way in which
she enjoys Lexa is well on its way to becoming her biggest turn on. So she actively searches for
Clarke’s sensitive spots, spends extra time there when she finds one and only moves on when Clarke
is choking back her moans.

She can smell Clarke’s arousal as she moves further down, can see the wet spot on her black panties
- she fights the urge to run her tongue over it – and feels her own wetness dripping from her as she
goes. Her own panties are probably in much the same state as Clarke’s and she should be worried
about ruining her pants, but she can only focus on Clarke.

Soon Lexa is shifting again and she feels Clarke’s leg brush against her center as she lowers herself
on Clarke. In that moment she finds the solution to saving her pants and torturing Clarke even more.

When she gets up from the bed, Clarke actually protests with a faint “no”, but all other remarks are
quickly forgotten when she sees Lexa sliding her pants down her legs.

Soon enough, Lexa is back on the bed, taking her previous position with her legs on either side of
Clarke’s right. Clarke watches Lexa her hands find her sides and her lips latch onto her pelvis bone.

As she kisses there, hoping to find another sensitive spot, she lowers her torso against Clarke’s leg
and she knows Clarke can feel her nipples through her bra when there’s a soft groan coming from
above her. Slowly she lowers the rest of her body until the wet fabric of her panties touches Clarke’s
shin and Clarke actually gasps at the first tangible sign of Lexa’s own arousal.

“Oh God.” She breathes and Lexa smirks, purposely grinding against Clarke for her own pleasure.

“You’re evil.”

“And I can go all day.”

But soon, when she’s kissed allover Clarke’s abdomen and the inside of her thighs – so close – Lexa
takes pity on Clarke and she slides up her body again.

Without preamble she takes a straining nipple into her mouth and Clarke involuntarily jerks up,
pushing her chest in Lexa’s face and tugging on her restraints to bury her hands in Lexa’s hair.

Lexa uses one hand to push Clarke back against the bed and the other to keep herself up as she runs
her tongue over the nipple.

Clarke is fighting her moans again. Just as she got used to Lexa attacking her skin, she had to change
tactics and now Clarke finally has part of what she wants, she can hardly keep quiet.

Lexa looks up to see Clarke’s lip stuck between her teeth, biting so hard she may break the skin. To
test a theory, she sucks hard on Clarke’s nipple before swirling her tongue around and Clarke seems
to bite down even harder.
She releases her nipple then, leaving kisses on her way to the other and whispering against Clarke’s
skin in between.

“You can moan, Clarke. I like it when you moan for me.” She takes the previously neglected nipple
in her mouth, instantly drawing a long overdue moan from Clarke and Lexa grinds against her thigh
once to how just how much she likes it.

“Just no whining and demanding.” Clarke nods in response, but it goes unnoticed by Lexa who has
her full attention on Clarke’s nipple.

Unconsciously, she starts a slow grind against Clarke’s thigh, alleviating some of the ache between
her legs and successfully worsening the one between Clarke’s legs.

All too soon Lexa realizes what she’s doing, but instead of stopping, she increases the force behind
her movements, rolls her hips a little more to grind her throbbing clit against Clarke’s thigh and
grinding her own thigh against Clarke’s clit.

But when she notices the moans coming from above her increasing and Clarke’s hips rolling against
her with purpose, she knows she has to stop, not yet ready to give Clarke what she wants.

Lexa gives one last thrust before stopping and shifting a little so her thigh isn’t pressed against
Clarke’s pussy anymore.

Clarke nearly whines at the loss, but she has learned her lesson. She’s on fire, on the brink of
exploding and she wants to either feel Lexa’s tongue on her or her fingers in her, so she stays quiet,
breaths coming in short pants as she tries to focus on keeping her hips from bucking up in search of
friction.

Even Lexa has to take a deep breath, but when she feels in control again, she moves up Clarke’s
body to bring their faces together. For a moment she just looks at Clarke; eyes open, pupils dilated,
lips parted and chest heaving with heavy breaths.

Once again, she fights to urge to kiss her. To run her thumbs over that bottom lip and then her
tongue, before she pushes in to-

Shaking her head, Lexa clears her mind from those thoughts, reminding herself that she’s only
making things worse. So she focuses on what Clarke wants instead.

“What do you want, Clarke?”

“You.” She breathes.

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“I just came from there.” A moment passes, then, “What do you want?”

“I want your tongue on me or your fingers inside me. No, I want both, I want you.”

“Do you think you’ve been patient?” Lexa asks her, as if she’s asking a child whether they deserve a
desert after dinner.

“Yes. Lexa, I’m going to explode, I need you, please.”

That’s when Lexa smirks again, having reached her goal.

“Say that again. Ask me for what you want.”

“Please fuck me, Lexa. Just make me come, I- Please.”

Lexa isn’t cruel, so she doesn’t linger on her way down Clarke’s body. She doesn’t tease as she
hooks her fingers between the fabric of her panties and her burning skin; doesn’t waste time as she
slides the material down long legs and dumps it on the ground.

Lexa doesn’t take too long admiring the way Clarke is dripping before her, open and ready. And
when she has lowered herself down between Clarke’s legs, arms underneath her thighs and hands on
her sides to keep her still, Lexa doesn’t hesitate to swipe her tongue over Clarke’s needy sex.

Clarke moans loud, finally getting what she has been waiting so long for.

It doesn’t take long, that’s how worked up she is. And after four full licks and some sucking on her
clit, she can’t lie still anymore as her hips buck up and her walls uselessly clench around nothing.

She can feel her orgasm already building and she just needs a little more. “Lex, please.”

Without a word, Lexa moves her right arm from underneath Clarke’s leg and slides it up her body.
For a moment Clarke thinks she’s in for more torture, but then she feels fingers against her lips and
she happily takes them.

Lexa then trails her wet fingers down Clarke body and shifts a little to accommodate herself. And as
the tip of her tongue presses against Clarke’s clit, she pushes two fingers in.

Clarke almost screams and comes right then and there, however she manages to hold on as she bites
her lip again. But then Lexa starts thrusting in and out and Clarke’s meeting every thrust with her
hips and combined with the wet pressure against her clit, she can’t hold back.

Her moans increase in volume, she’s panting Lexa’s name in between and her body is nearly arching
of the bed, even Lexa’s hand on her stomach can’t hold her down anymore and then Lexa does that
thing with her fingers inside her, touches that spot no one ever found before and Clarke is finally
falling.

Lexa helps her ride out her orgasm, she vaguely feels the slow pumping of fingers and the slight
pressure of a tongue on her clit whenever her hips push up, but for the most part Clarke is seeing
stars and hearing her blood rushing in her ear. Her heart is pounding inside her chest and she feels
completely at peace.

Then her senses come back to her, she stops chasing the aftershocks of her orgasm and Lexa
immediately pulls her fingers out. But her tongue remains, gently licking away the evidence of
Clarke’s orgasm.

And when Clarke can focus on something other than her own pleasure again, she feels Lexa’s
wetness pressed against her shin once more and Clarke likes to thinks she always gives what she
takes. And with Lexa, there’s not just the desire to fulfill her own pleasures; she is – much like Lexa
herself – becoming addicted to the soft sounds of the other woman and the way her body responds
and the way her lips part when something feels particularly good.

She wants to make Lexa come.

“Lexa.” She breathes, pushing her hips to get her attention, because she can’t really use her hands.

Lexa looks up, eyes wide, her lips swollen and glistening, curled into a satisfied smile.
(Clarke thinks, and she chalks this up to post-orgasmic bliss, but Clarke thinks she could fall in love
with this girl. And that should have been her seventh warning sign.)

“You okay?” Lexa asks, sliding up Clarke’s body and Clarke nods, better than okay.

“Untie me.” She demands and Lexa’s eyes fill with concern, moving to sit up so she can release
Clarke. “I want to make you come.” Clarke clarifies and Lexa instantly halts.

She looks down at Clarke from where she’s straddling her stomach, hands now lightly grasping
Clarke’s forearms. Clarke tugs at the restraint as some sort of reminder of what Lexa is supposed to
be doing, but then Lexa just smirks and Clarke groans.

“Please untie me so I can fuck you like you just fucked me.”

But Lexa just shakes her head. “I have a better idea.”

She scoots up Clarke’s body and Clarke gets the hint almost before Lexa has moved, nodding her
head enthusiastically.

“God, I love your ideas.”

Lexa is hovering over Clarke’s face now and Clarke is so close, again, to what she wants, but this
time Lexa’s panties are withholding her from her prize.

“Take ‘em off.” Clarke demands.

“You keep forgetting who’s in charge.”

“Do you really want to be holding your fucking panties aside so I can properly eat you out or do you
wanna be holding onto this headrest like you know you’ll have to?” Clarke sasses and Lexa briefly
contemplates just fucking herself in this position to make Clarke suffer. But then she watches
Clarke’s tongue dart from between pink lips to wet them and she decides on making Clarke suffer
some other time.

She quickly steps from the bed and takes off the pretty much ruined underwear before returning to
the bed, to Clarke. She finds a comfortable position and after Clarke’s consenting nod, she lowers
herself ever so slightly so Clarke has full access and room to breathe.

Like Clarke, Lexa is extremely close, but unlike Lexa, Clarke doesn’t waste time licking her up. She
swipes one stroke over Lexa’s full length and then immediately thrust her tongue inside her
clenching walls.

Lexa moans, both hands gripping the headrest for support as she rides Clarke’s tongue. Clarke is
pushing in as deep and as hard as she can and the effort is quickly becoming too much for her to
keep up.

She pulls out and focuses on sucking on Lexa’s clit for a moment in an attempt to rest her tongue, but
then Lexa’s hand is pushing her back and Clarke watches as she starts rubbing small circles on her
own clit.

With renewed vigor, Clarke goes back to fucking her with her tongue, spurred on by Lexa’s
increasingly louder moans – which Clarke doesn’t miss, because she has been looking for a way to
get Lexa louder and this might just be it.

She sets a rough pace and sees Lexa matching it on her clit. And then she feels the mattress shake
with the trembling of Lexa’s legs before her entire body stills and she lets out a soft, long moan.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lexa remembers to pull herself up so Clarke can breathe, but
then she remains unmoving for a moment longer; allowing her orgasm to travel through her body as
she feels Clarke placing wet kisses on the insides of her thighs.

When she’s come back down, she immediately unties Clarke’s wrists and removes her own bra
before falling down on the mattress next to Clarke, who’s already turning on her side to face her.

Lexa takes another moment to regain her breath before she turns her head to Clarke, smiling softly. “I
hope that wasn’t too much?”

Clarke chuckles as she lets her fingers dance over Lexa’s collarbone. “Are you seriously apologizing
right now?”

“Not apologizing. Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m better than okay. God, that was fantastic.”

They lay chuckling for a moment and then Clarke sighs dramatically. “My tongue is exhausted
though.”

Lexa laughs, that real laugh that always makes Clarke smile and heart flutter. “Yeah, I think my lips
are gonna be sore for another week.”

“So much for kissing me all day, huh?”

“I could still do that; a little pain has never held me back.”

“I think I will remember that information.” Clarke smirks and Lexa just grins as she turns her head to
stare at the ceiling again.

“So.” Lexa begins.

“So?”

“If we get dressed now, can I see your gallery?”

“Now?”

“Yes, Clarke. You told me to admire you before I could admire the art. I’ve done that.”

“Yeah, well, you can admire me some more, because I am in no mood to walk downstairs now.”

Lexa sighs, but then concedes. “Okay, you’re right. Neither am I.”

“That’s what I thought. Besides, I’m in a different kind of mood.”

Lexa turns back to look at Clarke, not even surprised at her libido anymore. Still, she hadn’t expected
Clarke to want to go for a second round. “I thought you were exhausted?”

“My tongue is exhausted.” She says as she climbs on top of Lexa, one leg in between hers and her
pussy already pressing against Lexa’s thigh. “And I just kind of want to grind against your thigh.”

Lexa holds Clarke’s hips, aiding her in the rocking motion she has already begun.
 “How... innocent.”

“You’re a little too cocky right now.” Clarke glares at Lexa, but Lexa simply shoots her a smirk and
Clarke just rolls her eyes as she rolls her hips. “Just shut up.”

Chapter End Notes

One thing I constantly struggle with is how to write text messages. I have three different
ways and I'm so conflicted. So maybe let me know if there's a way you prefer or if the
way I did it here works.
 but i can't fight this anymore
Chapter Summary

Lexa finally gets to admire some art and realizes the extent of her feelings, rules are
broken and there's a surprise twist of fate.

Chapter Notes

Once again my apologies for the wait, but I am afraid you'll have to get used to it. I am
still trying to keep the writing up, it's just become extremely busy at work. Still, I
appreciate you all reading and commenting and the love I get for this keeps me going.
Thank you all!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

So it goes.

Lexa leaves that Friday afternoon slightly disappointed that Clarke won’t give her a tour of her
gallery, stating she is tired – which Lexa knows isn’t just a lame excuse, because she is feeling a little
tired herself. So she lets it go, demanding to see Clarke’s work some other time. She is well aware
though that if she wants to see Clarke’s work, she’ll have to stop by some day other than Friday,
because it’s clear they can’t keep their hands off each other when they have set their minds to it.

So on Monday, Lexa tries her luck and rides her motorcycle to Clarke’s gallery straight after work.
But all the lights are off and it’s clear Clarke’s not there. As she drives home, she realizes that
Clarke’s gallery is right in between her apartment and work, it’s just a different route than usual. And
whether that’s convenient or possibly problematic is a matter Lexa decides not to focus on.

On Wednesday she tries again and this time the lights are on and through the window she sees
people eyeing the paintings. She stops her motorcycle right in front of the gallery and takes off her
helmet, still peeking through the window as she works up the courage to go inside.

It’s ridiculous that she would be nervous. She has seen Clarke naked so many times now, she
shouldn’t be nervous about seeing her work.

As she takes a deep breath, she catches sight of Clarke. A beautiful, radiant Clarke, wearing simple
light-blue jeans and a white t-shirt. Lexa watches as Clarke approaches an elderly couple looking at a
painting and proceeds to excitedly talk about it.

Lexa is in awe.

She decides that the other people there will be enough of a reminder that they are supposed to be two
strangers. Today Lexa is just a woman who loves art and happened to pass by Clarke’s gallery.

Another deep breath and Lexa gets off her bike and confidently marches inside the gallery.
Quickly looking around, she sees Clarke leaving the couple to approach two brunettes who look
about her age and greet her like they’re friends. So Lexa decides against approaching Clarke.
Besides, it would be weird for a random stranger to just walk up to her like that.

Instead she focuses on the art, which she came to see in the first place. (Except that she would’ve
liked to hear Clarke’s husky voice explain each piece.)

Soon she is completely immersed in the abundance of colour in one piece and the elegant shadowing
of another. Clarke’s talent is evident in everything Lexa takes in and suddenly she appreciates her
fingers so much more.

After a while of admiring – Lexa lost track of time – she somehow feels Clarke’s presence before she
even says anything.

Lexa turns to her, eyes wide and filled with awe and she can’t even mind the sexy, proud smirk
Clarke gives her.

“See something you like?” Clarke asks in a voice that sends shivers down Lexa’s spine and makes
her wish they were alone so she can show her just how much she likes what she’s seeing.

But she simply nods and looks back at a black and white painting of a forest scene surrounded by the
night sky. “This is incredible, Clarke.”

Clarke blushes, but Lexa doesn’t see it, too focused on the painting. “Thank you.”

A moment of silence falls between them and Clarke subtly looks around to make sure no one is
within earshot. Still, she lowers her voice when she asks, “What are you doing here?”

Now Lexa turns to her again, her head tilted to the side in that way she does. “I said I wanted to see
your art, Clarke.”

“Yeah, I know, but I didn’t think you’d actually stop by on a random day. I thought I would show
you on Friday?”

Lexa smirks, “We both know that would probably go exactly like last Friday.”

Clarke laughs, short and sweet, and Lexa notices her eyes flash with the reminder of last Friday. But
she also notices her looking around a little nervous and Lexa thinks that maybe she shouldn’t have
infiltrated Clarke’s territory like this.

“Don’t worry, I’m just another person coming in to admire your art. I will finish my round and leave
you to it.”

Clarke stares at her for what feels like hours and Lexa would give more than just a penny to know
what she’s thinking now. But she remains silent, gives Clarke the time to collect her thoughts and
then watches as those bright blue eyes rake over her body.

She grows extremely self-conscious in that moment and tries to cough away the blush she feels rising
on her cheeks.

When their eyes lock again, Clarke smirks.

“There’s a coffee shop one block over. It will be crowded around this time. Bring me a caramel
espresso; I will have the gallery empty when you come back.”
Lexa gulps, a million things she should say running through her mind. Like how she doesn’t
appreciate being bossed around – but Clarke makes it so hot. Or how it’s Wednesday and their
arrangement strictly stated once a week on Fridays – but she can’t say she didn’t think about having
Clarke right then and there.

There are a million things she should say, instead she swallows and nods and whispers, “Okay.”

So in ten minutes Lexa continues her round through the gallery, staring at the art but seeing nothing
but images of a naked Clarke. And then she feigns looking at the time and having somewhere to be,
as if people are watching her, suspecting her.

She leaves the gallery, not looking back at Clarke and walks to the coffee shop, stalling time.

She gets hot chocolate for herself and Clarke’s caramel espresso, and as she walks back to the
gallery, enjoying the late evening sun, she wastes one whole second on thinking of the absurdity and
stupidity of her current predicament. But then she rounds the corner, watches Clarke wave the two
brunettes she saw in the gallery goodbye and she smiles.

She honest to God smiles because she sees a pretty girl, hair framing her face, alight in the orange
glow of the sun. She nearly drops the coffee, nearly turns and runs. Nearly. Because Clarke turns to
look at her, smiles back at her and Lexa is compelled by some invisible force to always be closer to
Clarke. She is drawn to her, itching to be near her and Lexa can’t fight any of it.

(Lexa is in way too deep and there is nothing she can do about it. And if you’d ask her, now or in
twenty years, she wouldn’t have it any other way.)

And so it goes.

She fucks Clarke against the wall in a secluded corner of the gallery. Two fingers knuckle-deep
inside, but her jeans still on, white shirt discarded some feet away from them, coffee forgotten.

Friday comes and nothing changes.

Lexa shows up at Clarke’s apartment, Clarke pulls her in by the straps of her leather jacket and all
too playfully she teases it off Lexa’s shoulders then pulls it on herself.

“I’ve never been on a motorcycle in my entire life.”

“I can take you someday.”

“You will?”

“Anywhere.”

Clarke looks at her wistfully, as if Lexa just gave her the greatest gift and Lexa just stares back at her,
working her jaw as she fights to stop looking at her lips.

Lexa can no longer deny she wants to taste those lips, feel them against her own.

So instead she lets Clarke roam her lips on every other part of her body, lets her suck and lick and
kiss like Lexa wishes she would her lips.
Then Tuesday comes and Lexa receives a text from Clarke. She’s surprised at first, because they
never text outside of practical information regarding their meetings. Dread fills her as she expects the
message to be a cancellation.

She has come to look forward to Fridays, not just to the sex, but to seeing Clarke and in the darkest
hours of the night, Lexa can even admit to herself that she misses Clarke every other day.

The message itself is as surprising as its arrival.

Clarke
[7:57 PM] I just finished a new painting, want to see?

Lexa
[7:59 PM] I’ll be there in ten.

Clarke
[8:00 PM] I’ll shower real quick.

Lexa
[8:00 PM] Don’t.

Clarke opens the door to the apartment wearing denim shorts and a paint splattered, black tank top.
Her hair is in a messy bun, paint in her eyebrows, on her cheeks, arms and hands. Lexa’s heart soars.

“You’re a mess.”

“Painting is messy.”

“Do you need help cleaning up?”

“That would be nice.”

Lexa wordlessly crosses the threshold and follows Clarke into the bedroom, not at all surprised that
Clarke never expected her to help with the actual cleaning up.

Clarke pulls two towels from a closet before moving into the bathroom and Lexa continues to watch
as Clarke undresses and gets in the shower.

As Clarke adjusts the temperature, Lexa sheds her own clothes and steps behind Clarke. She takes a
deep breath first, now noticing the subtle shift that has occurred in their dynamic. But she pushes it
aside for the time being and presses her body against Clarke’s, already hard nipples pressing into her
back.

Clarke straightens, taking in a sharp breath and moves to turn around in Lexa’s arms. But Lexa’s
hands take firm hold of her hips and she leans in to whisper into Clarke’s ear, “Stay.”

It sends a shiver down Clarke’s spine.

For a moment they stand there underneath the water, Lexa’s hands keeping Clarke still and Clarke
subtly leaning against Lexa’s firm presence behind her.

Their eyes are closed, they’re breathing hard already and it crosses both their minds that there are so
many things wrong with what they’re doing, but it feels so right.

So Lexa focuses on that. On how good Clarke feels beneath her fingertips, beneath every part of her
own body. And then she makes Clarke feel just as good. Touching in all the right places until she’s
gasping and moaning, her head thrown back against Lexa’s shoulder.

Lexa likes to look at Clarke like this. With her eyes shut and mouth hanging open, her pleasure so
evident. Lexa likes to look at her and there’s something building in her stomach that goes beyond lust
and the exhilaration of turning Clarke into a panting masterpiece.

Something is building. And afterwards, when Lexa has washed Clarke’s hair and body and Clarke
returned every favour, they fall in bed together. Just to relax a moment before Lexa makes her way
home again, but somehow they fall asleep.

And when Lexa wakes in the middle of the night, she immediately notices Clarke’s hair tickling her
chin, her arm flung over her stomach, their legs tangled together and Lexa can only smile. She
nuzzles her nose into Clarke’s hair, breathes in her scent and without waking Clarke, she moves her
arm around Clarke’s shoulders and presses her closer.

Something is breaking. And it’s Lexa’s resolve. And Clarke’s rules.

Clarke wasn’t surprised to find herself tangled with Lexa when she woke up. And when Lexa woke
too, she hadn’t sent her away, instead she made her breakfast and they ate it together on the couch
with the TV on.

They didn’t speak. Just sat and ate and when Lexa went to leave, Clarke walked her to the door.
Lexa had felt like she was back in college; all soft blushes and sweet smiles after a first date. And
that’s probably what made her lean in, what gave her the courage to press a kiss to Clarke’s cheek
and then promptly turn around and leave.

That’s been two days and Lexa can’t forget. She can’t forget anything about Clarke and as time goes
on she learns more and more about the blonde, but it’s never enough.

Something is breaking and Lexa knows it’s the promise she once made herself. After she was hurt
one too many times.

Love is weakness.

But she’s pretty sure she’s standing on the precipice of a great fall. A deep plunge that could leave
her broken and bleeding when she lands, yet it seems so enticing, so welcoming.

Lexa is pretty sure she is falling in love with Clarke. She’s breaking rule 5 and she’s dying to talk to
someone about it, but she’s not sure she can trust anyone with it.

She doesn’t know a lot of people to begin with. There’s only Anya, her only constant. At the
University she has colleagues, some of whom she can have great conversations about literature and
history and art with, but not about Clarke, and they’re not friends.

Maybe her only real friends are the few writers she met at conventions and often trades ideas with.
They help her when she hits writer’s block and she helps them, but they can’t help her with this.

But she doesn’t have time to think about it more, because Anya is barging into her apartment like she
owns the place. Without so much as a greeting, she marches to the kitchen and pulls two beers from
the fridge, handing one to Lexa before she sits on the couch and makes herself comfortable.

Lexa isn’t even surprised; this is exactly like her sister. So she opens her beer, takes a big gulp,
because she needs it, before turning back to Anya.

“How was work?”

“I finally got partnered up.”

Lexa raises an eyebrow, silently enquiring for Anya to continue.

“She’s young, needs to learn a lot, but I know she’s competent enough.”

Anya is a cop and about a year ago her partner died in the line of duty and Anya has been working
with different people ever since.

She is a good cop, concerned with the safety of her people and her colleagues, and she won’t just
accept any idiot as her partner. She’s sent many men crying from her precinct.

“That’s good, you’ll have a lot to teach her. Just maybe don’t scare her away.” Lexa smirks.

“She can handle herself. I’ve worked with her before.”

Lexa nods approvingly and then silence falls on them as they drink their beers. Lexa contemplates
talking to Anya about Clarke, but the moment doesn’t feel right, so she leaves it be.

Anya knows something is off though, she has known Lexa her entire life. They are six years apart
and Anya knows everything about her little sister. But she chooses not to comment on Lexa’s
obvious peril.

“Anyway, the idiot is so excited about working with me she wants to go out for drinks to celebrate
with her friends and we’re supposed to come along.”

“We?”

“Yes. She told me to bring my friends, but I told her I-”

“Don’t have any friends. So you’re dragging me.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

Lexa frowns, because tomorrow is Friday and Friday is her day with Clarke.

“What time?”

“Around 10.”

She can make 10 work. She can go to Clarke, go home, shower and be on time to join Anya.

Anya watches Lexa think with a smirk, because she knows she sees Clarke every Friday and Lexa
has twice before cancelled their dinner plans because she was still with Clarke.

“I can do 10. Where is it?”

“At Arkadia. Maybe you can bring lovergirl.”

“Anya.” Lexa chastises. She had wanted to share with Anya, but the comment completely turns her
off from the idea. Maybe some other time.

“Hey, just a thought.” Anya holds her hands up in surrender and retreats to the kitchen with the
empty beer bottles. She comes back out biting into an apple, staring at Lexa who’s gazing out the
window, obviously in thought.

“I’m out, Lex.”

Lexa turns to her with a warm smile, her only goodbye and Anya nods as she walks away. “Come
find me when you’re ready to talk.”

Lexa doesn’t even turn back to her, Anya doesn’t even wait for her to, but Lexa’s smile grows with
the easy feeling of her sister’s understanding and support.

Clarke texts her after eleven, minutes before Lexa was about to put away her book and go to sleep.
Her name on the display makes Lexa smile, but the message is what she dreaded last time.

Clarke
[11:12 PM] I hate to do this, but my best friend got a sick promotion at work and she wants to have a
girl’s day out tomorrow to celebrate.
[11:13 PM] I tried to reschedule for Saturday or something but it could only be tomorrow.
[11:13 PM] I’m really sorry.

Lexa feels disappointment settle within her, but there’s also a spark of hope coming from the thought
that maybe they can reschedule.

Lexa
[11:15 PM] Clarke, it’s okay. Your friends are important. Besides, I have somewhere to be in the
evening myself.

Her thumbs hover over the keyboard as she deliberates to suggest if they reschedule, but she backs
out when she sees the three dots indicating Clarke is typing.

Clarke
[11:15 PM] Thank you.
[11:15 PM] Are you going on a date?

The question surprises Lexa, because she can’t interpret the tone and she’s not sure whether Clarke is
amused or simply curious, or she dares hope, maybe even jealous.

Lexa
[11:16 PM] I don’t date, remember?

Clarke
[11:16 PM] Right, you said.

Lexa waits for more, but nothing else comes and she can practically feel the tension coming from her
phone. So she decides to assuage the situation, even though that may not be necessary at all.

Lexa
[11:20 PM] Besides, I would never purposely plan anything, especially a date, on Friday.
The read sign appears immediately and it calms some of Lexa’s nerves to know that Clarke has been
staring at her phone too.

Clarke
[11:20 PM] Really now?
[11:21 PM] And why’s that?

She can imagine Clarke’s smirk, the teasing glint in her eyes.

Lexa
[11:22 PM] Fridays are for you.

Clarke doesn’t reply. The three dots appear several times but are never followed by an actual
message and after fifteen minutes of staring at the screen, Lexa falls asleep with her phone in hand.

The next morning there is still no message and Lexa constantly fights the urge to say something, take
back her words or wish Clarke a good time. But she doesn’t, because that’s not what they do.

So she tries to focus on her novel, but the words don’t come. And then she tries to prepare her class
for Monday, but the motivation isn’t there.

So she sits in her chair by the window, looking out over the city she loves and she tries to read a
book, tries not to think about Clarke.

Somehow her blue eyes and blonde hair are always too present in Lexa’s mind and she constantly
reminds herself that she’s not supposed to fall in love with Clarke. She doesn’t even want to be in
love.

But it’s inevitable. Clarke is inevitable and no matter how often she tells herself that Clarke is off
limits, she can’t help it. Can’t fight it.

She feels butterflies when she thinks about her. Smiles involuntarily when she remembers something.
Clarke isn’t hers to love, but Lexa does so anyway.

By the time it’s 10 o’clock, Lexa is actually looking forward to go out with Anya and her new
partner, because she is in need of alcohol. Something to drink away the memories of Clarke before
she drowns them.

Lexa finds that once you admit feelings to yourself, they become so much more intense. Before, she
could put Clarke out of her mind for a few days, but now there’s nothing else she can think about.

Anya is late, as she always is to social outings like these. She is as punctual as Lexa; on time is too
late. But when it comes to things like this, she’s always late, not wanting to seem eager to be there.

She calls Lexa when she’s in front of her building just minutes before 10:30 and Lexa rolls her eyes,
having been ready for forty-five minutes.

They walk to the bar, because it’s not far from Lexa’s apartment and they like the fresh air and
exercise. No words are spoken, because somehow they’ve always been comfortable in silence and
able to understand one another with simple looks.

They had an uncle until their teenage years, a broad man with a big beard but the kindest eyes Lexa
had ever looked into. Gustus. He used to say that if Anya were a little younger or Lexa a little older,
they could pass for twins. The sentiment had always comforted them.
When they reach the bar, Lexa takes a deep breath. She’s not a bar type of girl. She likes to have a
drink now and then, but she’d rather do it at someone’s house and not in a crowded and too loud bar.
But Anya pushes her through the door and she’s here now, so there’s no turning around and going
back.

Anya immediately sets off in the direction of a booth in the right corner and Lexa simply follows. As
they get closer, Lexa thinks she recognizes the two girls happily chatting; both long-haired brunettes
with easy smiles. But Lexa can’t really make out their features from the distance and in this light.

Then Anya steps right in front of the booth and both girls look up at her. Lexa keeps a small distance
as she hears her sister greet one of them with a simple “Blake.” And “Blake” stands up with a wide
grin to shake Anya’s hand.

Lexa watches the exchange, sees the younger girl’s fingers clearly pressing into her sister’s hand and
Lexa doesn’t miss the nearly invisible smirk Anya sports.

Blake lets go and gestures to the still seated girl. “Anya, this is my best friend, Raven Reyes.”

Anya nods, Raven Reyes does too and then Anya turns to Lexa. “This is my sister, Lexa. Lexa, my
partner Octavia Blake and a Raven Reyes.”

Everyone politely nods at each other, Lexa thinks she sees Raven roll her eyes, but it’s too dark to be
sure, and then they’re all sitting; Lexa and Anya on either end of the half-circle booth with Octavia
and Raven in the middle. Anya looking around, taking in her surroundings, observing the crowd.

She once explained to Lexa that you’re not just a cop when you’re on duty. Once you finish the
academy and get your badge, you’re a cop twenty-four/seven. Lexa can appreciate that sentiment.

“I thought there was supposed to be two?” Anya asks when she turns back to Octavia. But it’s
Raven who answers,

“The other one is getting us tequila.”

“Tequila already?” Lexa questions. “It’s not even eleven.”

Raven smirks, “Yeah, but she has somewhere she’d rather be, so she wants to be drunk as soon as
possible.”

Lexa purses her lips as she nods, because she can definitely appreciate that sentiment too.

It becomes clear very quickly that Octavia and Raven are talkative, unlike Anya and Lexa. So Raven
immediately draws Lexa into a conversation and Lexa, being the polite human being she is, angles
her body to face Raven. An open posture to indicate interest.

As a result, she has her back turned to the crowd and she doesn’t notice someone joining them until a
tray is placed on the table.

“Sorry it took so long. I got started without you.” And there’s a voice Lexa could hear and recognize
even in chaos. It sends shivers down her spine and her eyes grow wide at the impossibility of it all.

Luckily Raven is already looking at Clarke and doesn’t notice her shock. Another breath and Lexa
dares to turn around, hoping no one noticed her hesitance.
When their eyes meet, Clarke’s mouth falls open just a fraction of a second. But then she instantly
recovers and Lexa is pretty sure that if she wasn’t so tuned in to everything Clarke Griffin, she
wouldn’t even have noticed.

Octavia breaks the silence, though Lexa wonders how long it actually lasted. It feels like minutes, but
she’s pretty sure it’s been only seconds.

“Clarke! Bringer of alcohol, meet my new partner, Anya and her sister Lexa.”

Clarke shakes Anya’s hand first, smiles that kind and warm smiles that Lexa has fallen in love with,
convincingly pretending she has never seen Anya before – Anya is playing along fantastically as
well – and then turns to face Lexa again.

Clearly, Clarke is handling this surprise much better than Lexa is, because she’s smirking now, that
familiar glint in her eyes. She holds out her hand, Lexa shakes it and there are sparks making her
hand tingle.

Clarke withdraws her hand, then distributes the tequila shots to each of them. Lexa last and she
purposely holds her stare, Lexa swallows hard.

Then she nudges Anya’s shoulder and Anya is looking at her with a look Lexa recognizes as “how
dare you?” but when Clarke simply says “Scooch,” Anya actually complies.

There’s another second of staring at each other before Clarke grabs her own shot and takes the salt,
pouring some on everyone’s hand.

They all down their shots, reeling in the aftermath of the taste, before Anya turns to Clarke,
mischievous smirk plastered on her face.

“So. Raven tells us you’d rather be somewhere else. Not a fan of night’s out?”

Clarke turns to her with a smirk of her own, “Oh no, I love going out, I’ve simply become used to
spending my Friday’s differently.” She turns to Lexa then, smirk replaced with a smile. “Don’t
worry, though, I’m feeling much better now.”

They fall into easy conversation about Anya and Octavia’s partnership as they sip the beers Clarke
brought along with the tequila. And Lexa thinks this night will probably go down pretty well. She’s
actually able to focus on the conversation and not staring at Clarke constantly and if she can keep
that up, she’s sure it’ll be fine.

When their beers are empty, Anya offers to buy the next round. Clarke stands up, letting her slip out
of the booth and when she sits down again, Lexa can feel her foot brush against her leg. She’s pretty
sure it’s just coincidence though, but then it happens again as Clarke leans her elbow on the table and
rests her head against her hand, looking at Lexa.

“So Lexa, we know Anya is a cop, but what do you do?”

Lexa furrows her eyebrows as she tilts her head to the side, trying to figure out what game she is
playing, but when she looks at Octavia and Raven she sees the same curious expression and decides
that Clarke is just nailing the part of curious stranger trying to get to know her.

“I write and teach part time.”

“Oh, what grade?”

“Freshman.”

“What school?” Octavia asks.

Lexa turns to her with a proud smile, “Polaris University.”

And Raven nearly chokes on her drink. “How old are you?” She nearly exclaims and Lexa works
her jaw for a moment, taken aback and frankly feeling a little insulted.

“28.”

“You’re a university professor at 28?”

“Part time, yes. It’s not so odd.”

Raven scoffs, “Lady, I am 28, a certified genius who went to school until 26, just for fun, and I only
ever had boring, old professors one step away from death.”

Clarke and Octavia laugh, but Lexa doesn’t seem to understand the joke.

“All I’m saying is that I would have killed to have a professor who looked like you for a change.”

“Thank you. I guess.”

Lexa then turns to Clarke, a little unsure and hoping to receive some confirmation that she’s doing
okay, but Clarke is looking at Raven with a look that Lexa can’t quite place.

It’s over before Lexa can ponder over it, because Clarke has turned back to her, smiling again and
Octavia is asking her another question.

“So what do you teach?”

“Linguistics and literature.”

“And what do you write?” Raven asks with a wiggle of her eyebrows and a grin. “Anything
steamy?”

“Are you asking me if I write porn?”

“I was going to go with erotic literature, but yeah, basically.”

“I mainly write drama and romance, so naturally things can get... steamy, as you said, but that’s not
the main focus of my novels.”

“Have you been published?” Octavia asks.

“Yes, three novels.”

Lexa watches Octavia think for a while, before she seems to draw a conclusion. “Do you write under
a penname? I mean, my brother has probably read every book that’s been published in the last five
years and I don’t remember a Lexa Woods being on our shelves.”

“I do write under a penname, but unless your brother is into gay literature, I don’t think he has read
my novels.”

It’s then that Anya comes back with five more shots of tequila and beers. She places the tequila in
front of Lexa with a grin.

“No, Anya, no more tequila.” Lexa protests.

“What’s the matter? Not a fan of tequila?” Clarke challenges.

“Not a fan of losing my self-control.”

Lexa feels a bit of pride as she watches Clarke swallow hard.

When they’re on their fourth beer and everyone minus Lexa has downed their third shot of tequila
and they can all feel their minds become clouded by the alcohol, Raven suddenly falls over the table
with a finger pointed in Clarke’s direction.

“Y’know, Griffin, I am proud of you!” She nearly exclaims.

Clarke looks understandably confused, “Why?”

“Because. You have not once complained about fuckboy Finn all night!”

“And that makes you proud?”

“Yes! Because it tells me that you are pretty much over him.”

“Okay, Raven, thank you.” She starts to look a little panicked, her eyes purposely looking anywhere
but at Lexa’s staring at her.

“And you know what more?”

“No, Raven, I don’t, but I get it, you’re proud, thank you.”

“No, Clarke, you need to hear this. Octavia thinks this too.” Raven looks to Octavia for
confirmation, who is nodding enthusiastically.

“We are proud because you ditched fuckboy Finn and you got a sex cave!”

Lexa can’t help a short laugh escaping her lips and Anya is smirking as well, but Clarke is just trying
to bury her face in her hands.

“Raven, we have company, please.”

“They can know I am proud of you.”

“Okay.” Clarke sighs and moves to get up. “I am going to the bathroom and when I get back there’s
no more talking about this.”

As Clarke walks away, Lexa downs her beer and nods her head in the general direction of the
bathrooms, purposely avoiding Anya’s gaze as she gets up. “I’m going too.”

In the bathroom she finds Clarke at the sink splashing water in her face and Lexa leans against the
wall, hands in her pockets.

“So they call it a sex cave?”

Clarke grunts, “Unfortunately.”

“Well, it is essentially a sex cave.”

“I do more than just have sex with you there.”

“Really?” Lexa asks, as she pushes herself off the wall and walks closer the Clarke, who is now
facing her.

“Really.” Clarke swallows. There’s a moment of intense silence as they stare at each other and Lexa
can’t help but let her eyes drop to Clarke’s lips once, maybe twice.

“Is this you losing your self-control?” Clarke whispers wistfully, her hand reaching out to pull at the
hem of Lexa’s shirt.

Lexa watches her do it as she swallows, wishing she could, but knowing she can’t.

“No.” She whispers. “No, it isn’t.”

Clarke nods and Lexa thinks that maybe Clarke understands what she’s fighting. They keep staring
and then Lexa can feel Clarke’s cold hands slipping beneath her shirt and raking over the hot skin of
her back. She shivers.

“Come back with me tonight?”

“We’re nearly drunk.”

“So? I want you. It’s not the alcohol; you know I want you sober too.”

Lexa swallows, doesn’t answer, because there’s not a doubt in her mind she’ll go anywhere Clarke
asks her to.

Clarke smiles and leans in, Lexa can feel her breath against her ear and then wet lips nipping at her
earlobe.

“Lose control.” Clarke whispers, before she pulls back and promptly leaves the bathroom.

Lexa has to splash some water in her own face before she finds the strength to go back.

The night progresses uneventfully and Lexa notices that Clarke is downing her beers a lot slower
than at the beginning of the evening. When their eyes catch, Lexa can almost hear her voice in her
head, assuring her she’s sober enough.

Around 3 AM – much later than Anya had wanted to stay – they collectively decide to go home.
Anya, Raven and Octavia share a cab, since they live in the same area. So Lexa and Clarke walk
home together.

The walk is short and silent, their fingers brushing several times before Lexa gathers the courage to
just grab Clarke’s hand and entwine their fingers.

As they walk, she decides not to focus on how good it feels.

When they reach Clarke’s apartment, Lexa’s lips immediately latch onto Clarke’s neck and Clarke
moans as she works on removing their clothes while simultaneously walking them to the bedroom.

They fall onto the mattress in a messy tangle of limbs. Lexa tries to move her hand down Clarke’s
 body so she can cup her already dripping sex, but as her fingers skim the sensitive skin of Clarke’s
side, Clarke jerks and her thigh brushes Lexa’s clit, making her moan.

She quickly refocuses though, nimble fingers playing with Clarke’s clit and Clarke jerks again,
eliciting the same response from Lexa who grinds down against her thigh again, chasing the feeling.

With the alcohol still in her system, Lexa can’t focus and Clarke grabs the hand still between her
legs, placing it on her hips.

“Let’s just,” she begins, as she cups her own hands around the cheeks of Lexa’s ass and helps her
grind against her thigh, Lexa’s thigh grinding against her own clit, “Yeah.”

So they hold on to each other, grinding against each other in desperate search of release. Their shared
moans and content sighs filling the room.

And Lexa has the control to keep her head down, kissing Clarke’s neck in lieu of her beer and
tequila flavoured lips.

Chapter End Notes

This isn't porn, this is erotic literature. Let me know what you think and if there's
anything - besides that desired kiss ;) - you want to see. (I am expecting a lot of smutty
suggestions, guys!)
 so what are we even waiting for
Chapter Summary

Who cares about rules? Not Clarke. Okay, maybe she does and that is exactly the
problem. They have rules for a reason.

Chapter Notes

A huge thanks to letsbefwb and my idiot friend Jay for helping me work out some
kinks, ;-)

Happy Sinday, guys!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Once rules have been broken, it’s hard to go back. So when they wake up Saturday morning, tangled
like they were Wednesday morning, neither says a word.

They simply share a look before Lexa gets out of bed and stalks into the living room, not bothering
to put on clothes – Clarke stares.

The time it takes for Lexa to make coffee for them she uses to contemplate the night before – and to
overthink what Clarke meant by saying “lose control”. She ponders over it as she stirs the sugar
through her cup and stares blankly into the living room.

“Lexa!” Clarke’s voice breaks her from her thoughts and she can’t help but smile. “I know for a fact
it doesn’t take ten minutes to make coffee. Get back here!”

So Lexa grabs both cups and slowly makes her way back to the bedroom, where Clarke is sitting up
against the headrest, not so patiently waiting for her coffee.

“I don’t remember you being grumpy in the morning.” Lexa says as she hands Clarke a cup.

“I am when I was drinking the night before.”

“Right, so I’m meeting hung-over Clarke now?”

Clarke glares at her over the brim of her cup.

“I’m not hung-over.” Lexa raises a sceptical eyebrow as she gets back in bed. “Just annoyed to be
awake already.”

And Lexa smirks into her cup. “I can make that worth your while.”

Clarke looks at her, lets her eyes roam over Lexa’s exposed torso and then lets her head fall back
against the headrest with a groan. “Coffee first.”
Lexa just laughs, but they finish their coffee in silence. Clarke downs it much quicker than Lexa
does, so when Clarke lies back down, Lexa keeps watching her from where she’s still sitting against
the headrest.

“Your friends are interesting.”

Clarke groans again. “My friends are embarrassing.”

“Were you embarrassed?”

“Imagine you didn’t know me. How would it sound to you if my best friend exclaims how proud she
is of me because I bought a sex cave?”

“I thought it wasn’t a sex cave?”

“That is beside the point.”

“It is exactly the point.”

“No, it’s too early for this.”

“It’s one in the afternoon, Clarke.”

The silence returns as Lexa lies down again as well and they lie there, simply staring up at the
ceiling.

“What are the odds though?” Clarke mumbles.

“What?”

“Anya and Octavia.”

“Oh, yeah. They even knew each other before we did.”

“That just makes it even weirder.”

Lexa turns to Clarke then, a mischievous glint in her eyes as her lips quirk up in a barely there smirk.
“Maybe it’s fate.”

Clarke snorts in response, making Lexa smile – but Clarke just misses it when she closes her eyes to
laugh. She looks back at Lexa, smile long gone, but smirk still in place.

“Oh please, talk about that all you want with your writer friends, but not with me. I don’t believe in
fate.”

“Spend a little time with me and you will.”

Clarke rolls over then, leaning on her elbows as she stares down at Lexa, her eyes taking in every
inch of visible skin. Her hand instinctively reaches for Lexa’s collarbone, tracing the outline for a
mesmerized moment. Then Clarke smirks and moves again to straddle Lexa, the sheets falling
around her hips, baring even more skin.

“When I spend time with you I’d much rather not talk too much. There’s other things I have found
your mouth is excellent at.”

Lexa’s hands move to grip Clarke’s thighs, fingers massaging the skin as Clarke starts a slow rocking
motion.

“Care for a demonstration then?”

“I do believe you said you’d make being awake worth my while.”

“That I did.” With a smirk, Lexa flips them over far more easily than Clarke had expected she would.

Clarke relaxes against the mattress as Lexa slides down her body and opens her legs with her hands.
She runs a single finger through Clarke’s folds, already gathering wetness and smiles up at Clarke
before taking that finger in her mouth and sucking it clean.

“Good morning, Clarke Griffin.” Lexa smirks and Clarke laughs as Lexa dives in.

She is gentle at first, building up Clarke’s arousal with languid licks through her lips and short nips at
her clit. She’s done this enough times now to know what Clarke wants and likes.

It doesn’t take long for Clarke to grow restless, whimpering her pleasure and unable to keep her legs
still. So Lexa decides to change tactics and pushes her tongue deep inside Clarke, revelling in the
long moan it draws from her.

She thrusts in and out for a while before Clarke starts bucking her hips, in frantic search of more
pleasure.

“Lexa,” she moans her name, clearly wanting to say more, but the words get stuck in her throat.
Instead, she fists her hand in Lexa’s hair and pushes her closer, guiding Lexa as she rides her face.

Soon her breathing grows more erratic, her moans shorter and louder and after a few more thrusts of
Lexa’s tongue inside her, she feels her orgasm travel through her entire body, letting out a long,
content sigh.

Lexa brings her down from her orgasm and then crawls up Clarke’s body, watching as she recovers.

“So, was that worth being awake?”

“Yeah.” Clarke smiles.

“Did you know that orgasms also help against headaches?”

“I’m not hung over, Lexa.”

“Well, if you ever are...” Lexa smirks and Clarke opens one eye to peek at her. When she sees the
look on Lexa’s face, she closes it again with a laugh and Lexa can’t help but smile.

She knows she shouldn’t do this. Knows she shouldn’t stay in bed with Clarke like this and make
jokes. It’s too easy, too comfortable.

Lexa checks the clock on Clarke’s bedside table and sees it’s nearing two. She should go, get
groceries, clean her house, prepare that Monday class. She should be anywhere but comfortably in
bed with Clarke.

So she kisses that freckle between Clarke’s breasts almost regretfully and looks up when she feels
Clarke looking down. “I should go.”

“Got somewhere to be?”

“Lots of things to do.”

Clarke nods. She has a life to get back to herself. An actual home, a boyfriend. “Okay then.”

Lexa nods too, but doesn’t make a move to get up.

“What do you do on Wednesday?” She asks.

“I always open the gallery for visitors on Wednesday. Why?”

“The weather is supposed to be great; I could take you for a ride on my bike.”

Clarke seems to think it over and Lexa thinks she’s going to decline, but then Clarke smiles and
when she enthusiastically nods, Lexa smiles as well.

“Okay. I’ll see you on Wednesday then.”

“Wednesday.” Clarke agrees.

Still, Lexa remains comfortably leaning over Clarke. They’re staring again and Lexa thinks that
maybe they’re both waiting for each other to initiate a kiss. But Lexa knows she won’t do it. It’s not
her place.

So she swallows and nods again and finally finds the strength to get up. She dresses in silence,
feeling Clarke’s eyes watching her and before she leaves, she turns back around. Watching Clarke
naked on the bed, her hair messy, her head tilted and teeth nibbling the finger between her lips.

Lexa sighs, feeling a pang in her chest. She wants this girl, she knows she does.

“Wednesday.” She whispers, clinging to the next time she knows she can have her.

“Wednesday.” Clarke assures.

Lexa ends up having to cancel Wednesday.

When the other professors at Polaris University found out that Lexa was well liked by her students
and the heads of the Literature and Linguistics departments decided that a young counsellor might
help the students to open up about any problems they were facing, they decided to ask Lexa.

Now Lexa has always cared deeply for people, she feels a certain responsibility to them and her
students are very dear to her, so of course she couldn’t decline. She did insist that she would be
counselling only part time, like her teaching, being a writer first.

Being a part time student counsellor means that students often e-mail her that they want to talk the
day before. Unfortunately you can’t schedule an identity crisis.

So Lexa ends up having to cancel her Wednesday with Clarke because of a student in need of a
listening ear. She’s not even mad about it, her students’ well-being having priority.

Counselling does leave her exhausted, so when she’s done with her talk and sees it’s 4:30, she
decides to get a quick cup of coffee before going home.

When she comes back to her office, she sees it’s not as empty as when she left only five minutes ago.
Sitting in her chair is a smirking blonde that makes her heart stop.
“What kind of part time professor slash student counsellor gets her own office?”

“Clarke.” Is all Lexa can say, still not over the shock that Clarke somehow found her office.

“Me? I’m pretty sure I’m not a part time professor with an office.”

Lexa shakes her head, trying to recollect her thoughts. “What are you doing here, Clarke?”

Clarke still smirks, “You cancelled on me for noble reasons, but I was looking very forward to today.
So,” she says as she gets up from the chair and walks around the desk, purposely tracing her finger
along the edge of the wood, “I decided to stop by and see if people are looking after you too.”

She looks over Lexa, dressed in a white blouse tucked neatly inside black slacks and Clarke works
her jaw as her eyes fill with lust.

“Do you always dress so dapper to school, professor?” Clarke asks and Lexa nearly drops her plastic
coffee cup as she takes a deep breath.

“Clarke, I swear to Go-”

“Lexa,” Clarke cuts her off as she steps into her space and takes the cup from Lexa’s trembling hand.
She places it on a bookshelf, then walks around Lexa to close and lock the door and then she’s
pressing herself against Lexa’s back, breath ticking her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Lexa shudders against her and Clarke turns her around before walking her backwards until she hits
the desk.

Lexa is staring at Clarke wide-eyed, she can’t believe this is really happening, but Clarke is really
undoing the button of her slacks and drawing down the zipper and Lexa’s breath hitches.

Clarke pulls Lexa’s blouse from the slacks, but doesn’t make a move to take it off for which Lexa is
both thankful and annoyed, because this office tryst is surely going to ruin her favourite blouse.

“Clarke,” Lexa tries once more to stall, to suggest waiting and taking this someplace more private,
but then Clarke’s hand is cupping her cunt and Lexa’s eyes fall closed at the contact.

“I like the way this looks on you.” Clarke whispers. “God, you would be so hot in a full suit.”

And Lexa moans, both at the words and the feeling of Clarke pressing her thumb against her
throbbing clit.

Clarke runs her fingers through wet folds a few times, rolling small circles against Lexa’s clit. When
she feels Lexa is wet enough, she leans in, whispering in Lexa’s ear, “Try to be quiet now, okay?”

Through the haze Lexa manages to nod, but when Clarke promptly pushes two fingers inside, Lexa
can’t help her moan.

Clarke stills, gives Lexa time to calm down and reminding her to stay quiet before she starts slowly
pumping in and out.

Lexa holds on to the edge of her desk as Clarke works her up, but then Clarke hits a particularly
good spot and Lexa moans again, her right hand shooting out and fisting the material of Clarke’s
shirt at her back.

“Sssh, it’s okay, just hold onto me.” Clarke whispers in her ear and Lexa whimpers.
She manages to stay quiet for a few minutes then, but as she feels her orgasm building it becomes
increasingly more difficult.

Clarke notices the tension in Lexa’s body, knows she’s close, hears her soft whimpers growing
louder again.

“You’re doing great, Lex, it’s okay.”

Clarke speeds up, thrusting deeper and applying more pressure to Lexa’s clit and Lexa has to cling to
something, so she tangles her hand into Clarke’s hair as she presses closer and rests her forehead
against Clarke’s shoulder.

She’s so close, she can’t help her moans anymore and Clarke keeps whispering into her ear how
good she’s doing, but she’s only making it worse.

When Lexa fights another moan and Clarke somehow reaches even deeper, she loses a bit of her
control and bites into Clarke’s collarbone.

It actually makes Clarke moan and that, compared with a deep thrust, triggers Lexa’s orgasm. She
tries to breathe through it, panting against Clarke’s shoulder as she feels her fingers slowly bringing
her down.

“Fuck, Clarke.” She breathes when she’s come down and in response she feels Clarke smile against
her cheek and press a soft kiss to her heated flesh.

(Lexa replays that afternoon in her mind later that night and the next morning. And that Friday she
fucks Clarke against the wall of the apartment before they even make it to the bedroom.)

Lexa likes to spend her time in old bookstores, surrounded by stories and history, and she likes
travelling to new parts of her city to find new bookstores. On this particular Monday she stumbles
across a small store an hour’s drive from her apartment.

There’s a single window looking into to the store and on it are big stickers reading “Indra’s”. Lexa
falls in love with the store while still standing on the curb.

She spends nearly half an hour on the first floor before moving upstairs and the first thing she notices
there isn’t the amount of books, but instead two racks with postcards.

It’s not like Lexa is a fan of postcards; she never even sends them on the rare occasion that she’s on
holiday. But these postcards catch her eye because they feature pictures of paintings.

Most she doesn’t know, but some of the more famous ones – like the Mona Lisa and The Starry
Night – were what caught her eye in the first place.

Lexa walks over to the rack, thumbing through the cards, unable to stop thoughts of Clarke and if
she should buy her one, but then, which one? Without thinking she takes her phone from her pocket
and pulls up her conversation with Clarke.

Lexa
[12:14 PM] Who is your favourite painter?

She patiently waits for a reply as she continues to look through the cards, discovering paintings she’d
never seen before.
Lexa would describe herself as a casual art-lover. She couldn’t tell you about techniques or histories
to save her life, but she likes spending hours on end in museums.

Just when she is about to move on to the books and return to the postcards later, her phone chimes
with a reply from Clarke.

Clarke
[12:19 PM] Why?

Lexa
[12:19 PM] Just a question.

Clarke
[12:20 PM] Well, that’s quite a random question, Miss Woods.

Lexa
[12:20 PM] Just answer the question, Miss Griffin.

Clarke
[12:20 PM] Monet. Michelangelo. Oh, and this dude on Instagram.

Lexa
[12:21 PM] That’s all?

Clarke
[12:21 PM] What? It’s not good enough for you?

Lexa
[12:21 PM] No, I just meant that I had expected a lot more names.

Clarke
[12:21 PM] It’s not as much about the painter as it is about the painting.
[12:22 PM] The painting is what inspires me or makes me emotional or whatever. Most times I
hardly care who painted it.
[12:22 PM] So if you’d ask me about my favourite paintings, well... We’d be here a while.

Lexa
[12:23 PM] Then I’ll just have to ask you about them some other time.
[12:24 PM] Thank you, Clarke.

Clarke
[12:24 PM] No problem.
[12:24 PM] What’s this all about though?

Lexa
[12:25 PM] You’ll see.

Lexa spends another ten minutes going through the postcards and making a selection out of which
she chooses three that she ultimately takes home.

Wednesday comes and Lexa wakes restless. Before, Lexa could last an entire week until the next
Friday before her desire for Clarke became overwhelming. But last week Clarke fucked her in her
office and the week before that she fucked Clarke in her gallery and now she’s craving Clarke again.

She contemplates texting Clarke, letting her know, asking her to meet, but ultimately decides she is in
need of serious self-control and instead heads for the shower.

She tries to go about her day as casual as possible, opting for an outdoor lunch and bringing a thick
book to keep her mind off of Clarke.

But fate decides to tempt her, because just as she has finished her sandwich, sipped her fresh coffee
and opened her book, she hears a familiar voice curiously enquiring if it’s really her.

“Lexa?” Clarke’s voice sounds pleasantly surprised and something jolts inside Lexa. She lowers her
book to look at a smiling Clarke.

“Hey.” She replies, almost breathless from surprise and the way Clarke looks today. A sleeveless,
white blouse buttoned all the way to the top and stuffed inside ridiculously short black shorts.

Lexa really tries not to stare, but she knows she has failed when she hears Clarke chuckle. She
returns her gaze to Clarke’s eyes with a soft blush.

“Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It is the desired response.”

“You want people to stare at you?” Lexa asks almost incredulous.

“It’s nice sometimes. Especially when they look at me like they want to devour me.”

Lexa’s eyes darken as her jaw goes rigid. Clarke reads her so well, so effortlessly. (Or is she just that
obvious?)

There’s a witty response Lexa would like to make, but nothing coming to mind and before she has
the chance to think about it any longer, Raven appears next to Clarke.

“Lexa! Are you all alone?”

“Yes, actually, I am.”

Raven looks at her for a silent second, then glances to Clarke before returning to Lexa with a wide
smile.

“You should join us!”

Clarke and Lexa begin to protest at the same time, but Raven simply holds up her hand and silences
them.

“Come on, it’ll be a lot more fun than sitting by your lonesome. Plus,” she turns to Clarke now,
“we’ll have someone actually interesting to talk to instead of listening to Finn all through lunch.”

“Finn?” Lexa questions, looking to Clarke who eyes her with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, Clarke’s boyfriend. He’ll be joining us too in a bit.” Raven sounds almost bored as she
explains.

Lexa is looking for a reason to decline, too polite to just admit that she’s quite content by herself. But
she also likes spending time with Clarke like this, like they’re friends who get to talk about their
lives.

And maybe she’s a bit of a masochist, because she would gladly sit through a lunch with Clarke and
her boyfriend if it means she can just be around Clarke a bit longer. So she nods.

“Sure. I already had lunch, but I can stay for a while.” She thinks she sees Clarke sigh in relief, but
quickly brushes it off as her mind being over imaginative again.

Raven quickly drags an extra table next to Lexa’s as Clarke brings over the chairs and then Raven is
sitting next to her and Clarke opposite from her and she’s feeling a little awkward suddenly.

“So Lexa,” Raven turns to her with an enthusiastic smile, “I’ve been doing some research on you
and for the life of me, I just can’t find your books. Won’t you tell me your penname?”

“Why are you so interested?” Lexa teases and from the corner of her eye she sees Clarke roll her
eyes.

“Raven just wants to know how steamy your steamy scenes get.”

“So you’re interested in gay porn?”

“I thought it was erotic literature?” Raven counters before turning to Clarke with a stern look. “And
yes, Clarke, as a matter of fact, I do. Not all of us have a kinky sex life.”

Lexa turns to Clarke now too, her eyebrow raised in curiosity. She’s pretty sure she is the only one
Clarke is having sex with and she clearly remembers her rule of not mentioning the other to family
and friends.

But Clarke isn’t paying any attention to her; she’s too busy trying to scold Raven with her eyes
alone. Raven isn’t fazed though, she just smirks proudly, but it quickly vanishes when her gaze locks
with something over Clarke’s shoulder.

Lexa watches as Clarke looks over her shoulder to see a man approaching them and she sees her
shoulders slump. It’s a small change in Clarke’s posture, but it doesn’t go unnoticed.

The man approaches their table and takes the seat next to Clarke, turning to her when he’s settled.

“Hey,” he smiles timidly. Clarke doesn’t verbally answer, just smiles back and then he’s leaning
forward to press a soft kiss to her lips.

Lexa has to actually look away. Her stomach dropping as she fully registers that this is the boyfriend.
This is Finn, kissing his girlfriend, the girl she has so quickly fallen in love with.

When they break apart, Clarke instantly looks to Lexa, but Lexa doesn’t see it because she is too
busy pretending to put her book in her bag.

It’s only when Raven addresses Finn that she looks up again, locking eyes with Clarke. She tries to
hold her gaze, but she can’t so she turns to look at Finn, who is also looking at her with his brows
furrowed.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” He says.

“We haven’t.” She simply replies. “I’m Lexa.”

“Lexa.” He murmurs, his eyes going unfocused as he seems to think. Lexa notices Clarke
straightening her back and taking a deep breath, when she dares a glance at her, she sees her eyes are
panicked.

Then Finn shrugs and focuses on Lexa again, a fake smile on his lips. “How do you know Clarke
and Raven?”

“My sister works with Octavia.” Is the only explanation she offers, too focused on Clarke. To her
relief she sees Clarke relaxing and releasing her breath.

For now Lexa decides not to focus on Clarke too much and instead on getting through this lunch. So
she answers the questions she’s asked and after half an hour of pleasantries, she excuses herself.

On the way home she thinks about Clarke’s body language and what it all meant. And when she’s
still pondering it after dinner, she decides to give in and reach out.

Lexa
[7:17 PM] Are you okay?

Clarke
[7:20 PM] Yeah.

Lexa stares at her phone, wondering what else she could say, if she should even say anything at all.
Minutes pass and when her phone dings with a notification again she nearly drops it in surprise.

Clarke
[7:24 PM] No.

She watches as the three dots appear and disappear again for a full two minutes before she starts
attempting to write her own reply. She begins differently three times before finally settling on what
she has wanted to ask since this morning, although her motives are far different now.

Lexa
[7:27 PM] Would it be weird if I came over?

Clarke
[7:28 PM] No.
[7:28 PM] I would like that.

Lexa
[7:28 PM] I’ll be there soon.

As Lexa rings the doorbell and waits for Clarke to open, she fidgets with the hem of her t-shirt. A
nervous tic she hasn’t had since she was 16 and asked her first girlfriend out on their first date.

Clarke opens the door wearing grey sweats and a navy blue hoodie. She looks absolutely adorable,
but she doesn’t think it too appropriate to voice that thought now. So she smiles and Clarke smiles
back as her body slumps with relief.

Lexa enters and walks into the living room, where she turns around to look at Clarke who followed
her in. The air between them is completely different from all the other times they stood in this
apartment.

It’s not awkward or uncomfortable, but for the first time it’s not sexually charged and Lexa finds
she’s a little unsure of how to act now.

“Do you want to...” Her voice is small and she doesn’t finish the question, just looks at Clarke and
hopes her eyes are conveying that she doesn’t expect anything. That she would be just as happy to sit
on the couch and not talk.

“No. Maybe. Just not right now.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Lexa shrugs out of her jacket and hangs it over the back of the chair and then they’re once again
standing silent and motionless in the living room.

If she were to look at this from another perspective, Lexa would be laughing at herself. She is 28
years old and currently doesn’t exactly know how to act around her crush; afraid she’ll push too far
and make her uncomfortable.

But luckily for her, Clarke seems to have no such reservations. She steps closer and grabs Lexa’s
hand, silently leading her into the bedroom. She doesn’t let go as she lies down and pulls Lexa with
her.

They move around until they’re comfortable; both on their sides with Lexa spooning Clarke. And
then they’re silent again for long minutes, just breathing each other in.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Clarke takes a deep breath and remains silent so long Lexa thinks she just won’t answer.

“I told Finn about you. Weeks ago and I had kind of forgotten. I guess I was just scared he’d freak
out.”

Lexa doesn’t even know what to say. For someone who is so apt with language, she nearly always
finds herself at a loss for words around Clarke.

But then Clarke lets out a humourless chuckle and the mood shifts. “I guess he forgot too. Or he
didn’t listen in the first place, which seems much more likely.”

“Hey,” Lexa tries to soothe her as she rubs her hand up and down Clarke’s arm. Clarke sighs and
lets her body melt against Lexa’s before she turns around in her embrace.

They’re so close, Lexa can feel Clarke’s breath on her lips and it’s overwhelming. Clarke is staring at
her, but she can’t help but let her gaze drop to Clarke’s parted lips.

“Lexa.” She hears Clarke’s voice somewhere in the distance, isn’t sure if it’s real or imagined,
because right after her name she hears Clarke telling her to lose control; just like she had in the
bathroom in Arkadia.

And she’s about to do it. She’s about to throw all her inhibitions to the wind and lean in and finally,
finally, capture Clarke’s lips with her own.

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and then she’s leaning in to kiss her. She can hear Clarke
gasp, but there’s no movement or indication of her pulling away, so she doesn’t stop.

She’s so close, she can feel Clarke gripping her shirt in anticipation and then...

Then they are literally torn apart by the sound of Clarke’s ringtone blasting from her phone on the
nightstand. The sudden sound makes them jump apart and Clarke scrambles to reach her phone.

Lexa doesn’t stay to find out who’s calling, instead she gets off the bed and pads into the bathroom,
needing some air and probably a splash of freezing cold water in her face.

She stays in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror, for what feels like hours, but she
knows she has to come out and face the music eventually. So with a deep breath, she turns around
and mentally prepares herself to confront Clarke again.

When she steps back into the bedroom, Clarke is sitting on the edge of the bed, sitting cross legged.
Lexa stops short a few feet away.

Clarke is looking up at her with vulnerability and regret and Lexa sighs deeply. “What are we doing,
Clarke?”

She needs to know for herself, she needs to know what’s going on in Clarke’s head so she can
maybe make sense of it all. But Clarke doesn’t answer, she just sighs and looks away.

“We’re breaking the rules. Your rules.”

“I know.” Clarke whispers.

“We should stop.” Lexa says, her voice almost a whisper too.

At this, Clarke snaps her head up and looks at Lexa, shock and panic evident. “What?”

“We should stop breaking the rules. If we want this to... to go on, we should stop, we should...” She
doesn’t finish her sentence, because she’s not sure what they should do, but Clarke is nodding so she
thinks she at least understands what Lexa is trying to say.

She nods too and allows the silence to return, but then it grows uncomfortable.

“So who was calling anyway?” Lexa is not normally one to snoop, but she needs something to talk
about.

“Octavia. Raven told her about lunch, she asked if I wanted some company.” Lexa simply nods
along, sensing Clarke wants to say more, so she waits for it. “I said yes.”

When her stomach drops, even Lexa herself isn’t sure why. She understands it, knows it’s for the
best if she leaves now, but she can’t help but feel pushed away, dismissed.

“Yeah, it’s best if I leave.” She’s a little hurt, so she moves to turn around immediately.

Clarke jumps off the bed and rushes over to Lexa, grabbing her wrist to keep her from leaving.
“Lexa, I...”

She’s looking for the words to convey what she’s feeling, but there’s just so much all at once and
things she has tried so hard to suppress all coming to life as she thinks about Lexa almost kissing her.
And it’s becoming harder and harder to pretend.

They’re staring at each other and Lexa sees the battle in Clarke’s eyes and even while she is hurt, she
understands that Clarke’s situation is a difficult one as well. Probably even more so than hers.

Because Clarke has a boyfriend at home and while their relationship may not be perfect, she still has
a certain responsibility to him. Lexa on the other hand has a responsibility to no one but herself.

Yes, she stepped into this arrangement with Clarke just for the sex, not looking for anything even
remotely resembling a relationship. But she couldn’t help but fall for Clarke and now that she has,
she finds that she doesn’t even mind.
If she had to fall in love with anyone, she’s happy it’s with Clarke. Because being in love with
Clarke Griffin isn’t a punishment.

It’s just hard to be in love with someone you know you can never be with.

Lexa just nods again and Clarke sighs deeply in return. It’s really time Lexa goes, because after
being so close she’s having a really hard time not finishing what she started.

“Maybe I shouldn’t come over on Friday?” Lexa says, because she knows even two days from now,
she’ll still want nothing more than to kiss Clarke.

“No, I want you to come! But maybe you’re right. I don’t know, Lex, I just- I’ll let you know?”

Lexa doesn’t verbally answer, just nods one final time before pulling her wrist from Clarke’s hand
and wordlessly leaving the apartment.

She goes home feeling weird and not quite sure what just happened, so she decides to take a quick
shower and immediately dives in bed afterwards.

Try as she might, she can’t shake thoughts of Clarke or her lips or that gasp just before they were
about to kiss, but eventually she falls into a dreamless sleep.

The next day she has two classes to teach and while she feels less hurt than the night before, she’s
still a little out of it. Her students notice if their frowns are anything to go by and even her colleagues
notice her silence, but luckily no one comments on it.

On the upside, she has managed not to think about Clarke nearly all day. That is until she steps out of
her office, ready to go home and succumb to her infatuation with Clarke and she comes face to face
with just that person.

“Hey,” Clarke smiles.

“Hey.” Lexa replies, unsure and surprised.

“I came here to give you this.” Clarke extends her hand, a silver key between her fingers. Lexa takes
it hesitantly. “Look, I thought about everything and I talked with Octavia last night and you’re right.
We have rules for a reason and we just need to get back to the desire. So that’s the key to our
apartment and you can let yourself in and I’ll make sure that the only thing you wanna do tomorrow
is fuck my brains out.”

Lexa acutely hears the “our”, it echoes around in her head, but she doesn’t comment and instead just
swallows hard, because Clarke lowering her voice like that when she talks dirty always has a certain
effect on Lexa.

“Okay.”

“It doesn’t have to be weird. We’re just having sex.”

Something about those words stings Lexa, but maybe she should start believing them again. It would
save her a lot of heartache.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And just like that, Clarke leaves again and Lexa is left staring at the key in her hand.
Friday morning Lexa finds herself contemplating when she should go over to Clarke, because Clarke
never gave her a time, just the key.

They don’t really have a set time; some Friday’s Lexa shows up at two, some at five, on rare
occasions she’s there before noon. But today she has no idea when Clarke is expecting her or what
she should be expecting.

One thing is true, Clarke’s words were enough for Lexa to get excited about their afternoon together
and not focus on her rapidly growing feelings.

In the middle of breakfast, she receives a text message, the phone telling her it’s from Clarke. She
thinks it’s probably the time.

But when she opens the message she nearly chokes on her own saliva. It’s a picture of Clarke from
the waist down with her hand down her panties.

It’s quickly followed by a caption: Woke up wet in anticipation of you.

Lexa swallows hard.

There’s no follow up message and Lexa finishes her breakfast with a heavy throat. She momentarily
forgets about the picture as she starts to work on her novel, like she does every Friday before going
to Clarke.

Two hours in she receives another message. And it’s another picture from Clarke. She braces herself
and when she opens it, she is greeted by a shot of Clarke’s chest and stomach, her breasts covered by
a silky black push-up bra.

Next comes another picture, from the same angle, but this time Clarke is wearing a sheer, red bra
with black lace details and a bow in the middle. Lexa stares at this one much longer until she is
brought out of her daze by yet another picture.

It’s the same shot again, but now she’s wearing a sheer, black robe and nothing underneath.

The pictures are again followed by another caption: What should I wear? Which do you like?

Lexa doesn’t even hesitate.

Lexa
[12:08 PM] Red.

Clarke
[12:08 PM] Good choice.

It takes much longer for Lexa to be able to focus on her work this time. She can’t help but wonder if
the panties will match the bra and imaging what it would look like if they do.

Images of Clarke walking around the apartment wearing nothing but lingerie fill her head and she
actually has to read a page from her dictionary to get her mind back on track.

It works and she finally gets back to work a little over half an hour after Clarke sent her the pictures.

But then, too soon after she finally finds the words for her novel again, Clarke texts her once more.

Clarke
 [12:47 PM] You know what I want?

Lexa patiently waits for Clarke to tell her, but she watches minutes pass without elaboration.

Clarke
[12:50 PM] Do you want to know, Lexa?

She doesn’t waste another minute.

Lexa
[12:50 PM] Yes.

Clarke
[12:50 PM] I want you to fuck me.
[12:51 PM] I want you to fuck me so hard I’ll forget my own name.
[12:51 PM] I want you to do it with this.

The last message is followed by another picture. Lexa’s mouth drops open as she looks at it. It’s a
large dildo attached to a leather harness. Lexa’s mind goes blank, only one thought running through
it.

She’s asking me to fuck her with a strap-on.

Everything in Lexa screams at her to forget about the goddamn novel or the fact that she’s wearing
shorts and looks less than desirable. She wants to run to Clarke and do exactly that which is asked of
her.

But she holds back, decides in a split second to draw out Clarke’s game. But then comes Clarke’s
last message:

Clarke
[12:55 PM] Do me a favour, hotshot. Wear a suit.

Chapter End Notes

I have heard your requests and I will see you all soon for the next Sinday!
 it's nothing but desire and lust
Chapter Summary

Suits, strap-ons and kisses.

Chapter Notes

It's been 2 years, 9 months and 9 days since I left you all with the words "Do me a
favour, hotshot. Wear a suit.

I honestly never intended to then disappear and leave you all with the greatest
cliffhanger in a time where Hot Stud Lexa was this fandom's most recent obsession. I
had the beginning written, I had plans, ideas, intentions.

By way of apology, let me quickly explain what happened: I went to a local Comic
Con, one month before posting chapter 6. At the convention I met a Lexa cosplayer and
I fell in love. As much as I hate to use the phrase; life happened. I was seriously still
mourning the death of my favorite character and I was enjoying the thrill of exploring a
new relationship, and in between that I lost the will to write.

Over the years I have gone back to this fic numerous times, I wrote, edited, deleted and
rewrote the entire thing. I was never satisfied. But every week I kept getting messages:
your kudos, your comments, your follows. And even to this day I get messages from
people asking me to revisit this work.

So here I am. This is for all of you. For everyone who kept coming back, for the new
readers who didn't realize this was unfinished (and seemingly abandoned). This is for
everyone who told me they understand, who hoped I was happy and doing okay. I
cannot ever thank you enough. But I did finish this fic. And that is my gift to you.

Thank you, and please, finally, enjoy!

So Lexa rushes to Clarke, not daring to waste another minute. She feels like she dressed
haphazardly, is pretty sure the knot of her tie is all wrong and she fears that she wrinkled her blouse
in her haste. But the suit is a deep grey, the material thick and sturdy, and it’s her favourite. She feels
good, she feels confident, she feels extremely fucking nervous because she’s about to fuck Clarke
with a fucking strap-on.

Lexa isn’t a stranger to strap-ons. She was in a committed relationship for years; she has used about a
half-dozen different types and sizes. But this is Clarke. This is the girl she is falling in love with, the
girl she was supposed to just be having casual sex with so her urges were satisfied while her
boyfriend couldn’t see to them. (Something that still baffles Lexa, because how could anyone not be
attracted to and turned on by Clarke Griffin.)

No, this is Clarke, asking her to fuck her so hard she’ll forget her own name. Lexa shudders as she
remembers the text message, can’t help but imagine Clarke in that lingerie set she only saw a peek of,
can’t help but imagine her sprawled out on the bed, hair in a golden halo around her, legs open and
inviting.

Lexa is nearly losing her grip on the steering wheel. She decided to drive her car to Clarke this
afternoon, because she doesn’t want to ruin her suit in the wind and honestly, her entire body is
practically shaking with anticipation.

One thing is true: the only thing Lexa can think about right now is taking Clarke on every flat surface
inside that apartment. She is nearly consumed with lust and shaking from it in the short fifteen
minutes it takes her to get to Clarke.

She parks her car a block away, takes deep breaths of fresh air as she walks to the apartment,
nervously playing with the key in her hand. It’s obvious Clarke wants her to let herself in, but Lexa
feels awkward about it. She isn’t sure how to act once she walks through that door, pretty much
inviting herself into Clarke’s apartment.

(She said “ours”.)

Her worry nearly kills her arousal, but then she reaches the building, looks through the window of
the gallery and is instantly reminded of the time she fucked Clarke right there against the wall. It
inspires a fresh image of Lexa fucking her against a wall of the apartment, suit still on, lingerie still
on, Clarke’s head thrown back and her legs tight around Lexa’s waist.

Lexa braces herself against the door, takes another deep breath. Something about the way Clarke
spoke, demanded what she wants from Lexa, that picture; it’s adding to the fire of this intense lust
Lexa has never known before. She nearly growls, is almost a little surprised by it, then wonders if
Clarke would like that. If it would turn her on more, if she’ll gasp in response, or moan.

She remembers their first conversation, when she asked if Clarke was dominant and then stated that
she was just as much. She remembers their previous encounters and the shifting dominance in their
dynamic and decides right then and there, before going inside, that she won’t hold back this time.
And something tells her, that’s exactly what Clarke wants.

So she opens the door and slowly walks the stairs leading to Clarke’s apartment floor. She is trying
to collect herself, because she wants this to last. She wants to appear in control and drive Clarke
insane and she wants to spend hours just teasing and torturing.

Once in front of the door to Clarke’s apartment, she takes another deep breath and straightens her
suit. It’s a three-piece, so she adjusts the vest first, then the jacket, making sure everything fits
perfectly against her body. Then she adjusts her tie, even though she can’t see it, but the motion
calms her, usually makes her feel confident. Right now, in front of Clarke’s – their – door she feels
that confidence leaving her body. The suit suddenly seems ill-fitted. She brushes the collars of her
black blouse and then adjusts the jacket again, mainly out of nervousness and then, finally, she fishes
the key from her pocket.

It slides in the lock easily and she turns it and opens the door like she’s done it a hundred times. It’s
not weird or awkward, instead it’s comfortable; it feels a little like coming home.

Lexa steps inside and she’s greeted by soft music and a low humming. She knows it’s Clarke and for
a moment she stays in the hall, imagining Clarke swaying her hips to the music; a smile graces her
face.

But she shakes it off and makes her way down the hallway, towards the music, softly making her
presence known.

“Clarke?” Her previous worry returns for a moment, but then Clarke comes from the kitchen and
stops short in the living-room, having to actually brace herself against the armchair at the sight of
Lexa. And Lexa isn’t doing much better, her breath hitching at the sight of Clarke.

She’s not wearing the lingerie-set Lexa was asked to pick – well, she probably is, but Lexa just can’t
see it yet because of the silk, red robe Clarke has wrapped around her body. The material clings to
her curves perfectly and it’s just short enough to flaunt her legs and show off the black stockings.
Lexa’s mouth waters as she tries to imagine just what exactly is beneath that robe.

She swallows hard as she gives Clarke the slowest once-over she has done in her life. She nearly
dies when she observes Clarke’s beautifully curled hair and bright red lips spread in a radiant smile.

“Fuck.” Lexa breathes.

“Yeah.” Clarke agrees.

They gravitate towards each other, stepping closer without either actually really thinking about it.
Clarke immediately takes hold of Lexa’s jacket, running her hands down the lapels and then
underneath to spread out against Lexa’s stomach. Lexa lets her, watches her as she rests her own
hands against the smooth silk covering Clarke’s hips.

“I knew you’d be hot in a suit.” Clarke murmurs.

“Is that why you asked me to wear it?”

“Yes.” Clarke nearly whispers as she drags her eyes over Lexa’s body, slowly up until their eyes
lock.

A tense silence settles around them, energy almost quite literally crackling in the air. This is the calm
before the storm, before desire and instinct take over and they get lost in each other. But for now,
they remain still, basking in the sexual tension swimming between them.

Then Clarke grins as she slowly pulls Lexa’s tie from between her vest and blouse and tugs, making
Lexa step even closer, her hands finding the small of Clarke’s back in their embrace.

“I was thinking about you today.” Clarke says, voice deep and dark.

“You were?”

“Yes.” She watches her own fingers play with the tie before she looks at Lexa again. “Were you
thinking about me?”

“I was trying to write a book.”

“And how did that go?”

Lexa hums. “I was a little distracted.”

“Really now?” Clarke’s grin is proud and excited.

“Yes.”

“So you were thinking about me?”

“Very much.”

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what, Clarke?”

“What you were thinking about.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I show you?”

Clarke closes her eyes and hums in response, pressing her body even closer to Lexa.

“You went all out.” Lexa says after a while, Clarke opens her eyes and stares at her. They remain in
that embrace, warm and comfortable like they belong there.

“Do you like it?” Clarke asks.

“Yes.”

“Does it make you want me even more?”

Lexa swallows hard, thinking of what to say, opting for something playful or sexy, but finally settles
on the truth. “I always want you, Clarke.”

Because it’s true.

“All of you.” Because that’s true too. She doesn’t just want the sex and the seduction and desire and
the thrill that comes with it. She wants the sleeping over, drinking tea in bed, having lunch with her
friends, talking about things other than their lust for each other. She still wants to take Clarke for a
ride on her bike, wishes she could call it a date and then take her for more. Because Clarke makes
her feel alive, like she’s living again.

Clarke had said they needed to get back to the desire, to just wanting each other’s bodies and nothing
more. There’s no doubt Clarke planned all of this to remind her of that, but Lexa can’t do that
anymore. Now that she knows how she feels she can’t go back to just sex anymore.

But she also can’t give this up, so she’ll take what she can get.

Fighting the urge to kiss her, Lexa backs Clarke against the dining table and then turns her around,
using just enough force so Clarke has to brace herself, both hands gripping the edge of the table.

Lexa pushes herself against Clarke’s back before taking her hair and brushing it from her neck and
over one shoulder. She removes the red silk from Clarke’s shoulder and peppers soft kisses along her
collarbone, snapping her bra strap when she reaches it with her teeth.

Her hands start roaming Clarke’s hips, exploring over the robe and Clarke arches back against Lexa,
one hand coming up to entwine her fingers with Lexa’s and one reaching behind her to play with
Lexa’s hair.

For a moment Lexa forgets where she is, who they are supposed to be. For a moment she feels like
she is Clarke’s and Clarke is hers. But then she remembers herself and sighs. Clarke moves her head
closer to Lexa’s, comforting her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Lexa lies, and she doesn’t have to see Clarke’s face to know she isn’t convinced. But
Lexa tries to focus on the task at hand; the reason she rushed to their apartment in her favorite suit.
She takes a deep breath, regaining her composure and images of what she could do to Clarke in this
position spur her on. She bites Clarke’s collarbone, letting her know that the moment – whatever it
was – is over.

“I changed my mind.” Lexa says, her voice low. Clarke stiffens a little against her and Lexa wonders
if she is just as scared of being rejected still, even now, even after all these weeks.

“About what?” She asks tentatively.

“I am going to tell you what I’ve been thinking about doing to you.” She pauses, feeling Clarke’s
body relax back against her. “Do you like that, Clarke?” She waits for Clarke’s answer and she
doesn’t really know why she’s always asking for her verbal confirmation, but she thinks maybe she’s
addicted to Clarke’s voice, especially in situations like this, to her breathy rasp when she’s aroused.

She imagines them in bed together, Sunday morning, holding steaming mugs of coffee, asking
Clarke to read her favorite books to her.

“Tell me.” Clarke nearly purrs, breaking through Lexa’s thoughts again. So she does.

“I might untie this robe.” She lets her fingers toy with the knot, having no real intentions of undoing
it yet. “You have to keep it on though, but I’m sure you look amazing from this angle.” She lets her
words settle, eyes drawn to Clarke’s covered breasts already.

“I’m not sure what I’d do first; there’s so much I want to do. But I might bend you over this table and
take you right here. Only with my fingers though, we’re just getting started after all.”

Clarke hums, her eyes closed and her fingers still absentmindedly playing with Lexa’s hair.

“I might turn you around and drop to my knees. I could eat you right here.”

Clarke’s breath hitches.

“Are you wet, Clarke?”

“Yes.”

“Good. What are you thinking?”

“I think I love you and your words.”

The words hurt in Lexa’s heart and she’s not entirely sure why. It would be so easy to stop and ask
Clarke to explain, it would be so easy to have the conversation she’s been dying to have for weeks.
But she’s afraid. Afraid it might all end, so she takes a breath, swallows the lump in her throat and
moves her hands up Clarke’s body to remind herself why she’s there.

She cups Clarke’s breasts, squeezes a little and hearing Clarke exhale a moan brings her right back in
the moment. Clarke melds further into her and Lexa licks a line from her collarbone to her neck to
right beneath her ear.

“You’re mine today.” Lexa whispers.

“I’m yours.” Clarke says, without hesitation.

Lexa unties the robe quickly, spinning Clarke around afterwards and immediately attaches her lips to
Clarke’s skin. She pushes the robe off her shoulders and down her arms, her hands coming to rest on
Clarke’s ass. Se squeezes as she bites and Clarke holds Lexa head down in order not to lose the
feeling of her lips on her.

As Lexa moves lower and begins placing kisses on Clarke’s breasts she finally sees the lingerie. The
picture didn’t do it justice. She wants to disentangle herself from Clarke and drink her in, but she
knows there will be time for that later. She just has to be as close to her as possible right now, so she
goes back to kissing and biting and Clarke seems so into it she can’t stop the tiny sounds coming out
of her mouth.

Lexa squeezes her ass again and looks up, their faces so close now she can almost feel Clarke’s lips
on her own.

“Up.” She whispers. Clarke seems to understand immediately and jumps a little, wrapping her legs
around Lexa’s waist as Lexa lifts her up. She makes it look so easy, so effortless, as if Clarke weighs
nothing and Clarke is pretty sure she shouldn’t find it as sexy as she does.

Lexa turns them around and begins walking them to the bedroom. Clarke is playing with her hair,
watching Lexa’s face.

“I thought you had all these plans?” Clarke teases. Lexa meets her eyes, sees the challenge in them
and pushes Clarke against the wall.

“Fuck those plans.” She nearly growls, her voice thick. Clarke swallows hard, her eyes wide.

Lexa removes one hand from Clarke’s ass, slowly dragging it over her thigh and then stepping a little
back before letting her hand sneak in between them. “Hold on.” She tells Clarke.

She wastes no more time. She knows there will be another chance today to tease Clarke, to drag it
out, to make Clarke wait and beg for her pleasure.

She presses her hand against Clarke’s sex, feeling the wetness against her palm. The angle is a little
awkward with Clarke’s legs still wrapped around her waist in an effort to hold herself up. So Lexa
makes do with her thumb.

It just like she imagined, not even half an hour ago, as she looked through the window of Clarke’s
gallery. Lingerie still on, suit still on, fucking her against the wall.

Lexa throws Clarke on the bed. And finally she gets to take a good look at her. Her blonde hair is a
mess, splayed all over the matrass beneath her. The bra is struggling to keep her breasts in, one
nipple already peeking out over the lacy edge. The panties are ruined, her arousal and come seeping
through. The garter belt and stockings seem to be the only pieces left unscathed.

Clarke looks a mess, but it looks so damn good on her.

Lexa notices the strap-on on the bedside table, but she ignores it for now. Opting to simply stare at
Clarke as she slowly undresses. She takes off her jacket, folding it before bending down to lay it on
the ground.

“I like this suit.” She explains. “It’s my best suit. And you have already nearly ruined it.” She says,
as she brushes a hand over the wetness on her stomach.

Clarke could lie there and look at Lexa all day, she could lie there forever, half naked, and hear Lexa
talk to her like that and be content.

Lexa undoes her tie, opening up the first button of her blouse, but no more. She slides the grey silk
from around her neck, toying with the length as she smirks at Clarke, her eyebrow raised. The
memory springs into both their minds, turns them on at the same time. Clarke is about to nod her
consent when Lexa drops it on top of her jacket.

“Next time.” She promises. “I want to feel your nails ruin my back.”

Lexa unbuttons her vest, slowly taking it off as well and Clarke kind of regrets it immediately. She
can’t get enough of Lexa in that suit. Her fingers itch to touch, but also to draw it and paint it and
immortalize the image forever, because she’s sure there will never be another sight quite so exquisite.

But there’s one good thing about Lexa taking off that vest. The movement makes the muscles in her
arms and abs stand out, pulling the fabric of her blouse tighter against her body. Clarke’s mouth
slowly goes dry.

Lexa unbuttons the sleeves of her blouse first. It’s practical, makes taking the blouse off easier. Then
slowly, one by one, she undoes the rest of the buttons. She likes watching Clarke watch her, likes to
see the reactions each action gets. It’s empowering to know how much Clarke wants her in this
moment.

She takes the blouse and throws it on the ground. Clarke is becoming visibly impatient, so she makes
quicker work of her pants. When she’s only left with her underwear she can see Clarke shift on the
bed, almost as if to welcome her. But Lexa has a different plan.

She reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra and lets it fall to the floor as she languidly pushes her
panties down her long legs. Then, in all her naked glory, she walks around the bed and to the
nightstand with the strap-on on it. As she grabs it, Clarke’s breath hitches and Lexa makes sure to
never lose eye-contact as she steps into the harness.

She walks back to the foot of the bed and climbs up, her hands and lips moving up Clarke’s legs as
she goes. She stops halfway, a smell that’s so distinctly Clarke reaching her nose. She leans down,
kissing her thighs before taking off her panties. When she comes back up again she slowly licks a
line through the wetness coating Clarke’s lips and to her clit.

Clarke sighs in relief and pleasure, her body relaxing against the matrass as Lexa takes her time softly
working her up. After a while she moves further up Clarke’s body but gets side-tracked again when
she reaches her breasts. The bra pushing them up, one hard nipple begging for attention. So Lexa
licks that too. She moves her hand behind Clarke’s back and Clarke sits up a little to help her get the
bra off. It’s on the floor within seconds.

Finally she is face to face with Clarke again, a softness in her eyes that Clarke hadn’t expected. She
smiles.

“Are you sure?” Lexa asks.

Clarke nods, bringing her hand up to brush Lexa’s hair out of her face. She holds on to her cheek.
“Don’t worry about hurting me. I know you won’t.”

Lexa nods tentatively, suddenly nervous, suddenly wanting to take things slow and talk Clarke
through. But she also knows neither of them are new to this and she has to separate herself from her
feelings for Clarke.

“Do you want me to use my fingers first?” She asks, trying to bring back the playfulness in her
voice.

“No, I’m ready, Lex.”

So Lexa pushes herself up to sit on her knees, reaching over to the nightstand to grab the lube.
Despite knowing how wet Clarke already is, she still makes sure the dildo is as covered as possible.
Twice she makes the mistake of glancing at Clarke as she’s handling the toy and the way her mouth
is slightly parted as she watches Lexa’s hands makes her head spin.

When she is satisfied, Lexa sets the bottle back on the nightstand, wiping the excess lube on her
hands off on the sheets. She positions herself over Clarke, bringing her hand down between her legs
to check if she’s still ready. And when Clarke nearly moans the moment Lexa’s fingers brush over
her clit, Lexa has her answer. She is more than ready.

Lexa teases with the tip of the dildo, increasing pressure with every upwards swipe until Clarke is
nearly bucking her hips in search of more. She places a hand on her thigh, calming Clarke long
enough for Lexa to position herself just right.

She pushes the dildo in slowly at first, allowing Clarke to get used to it with every inch. Her eyes are
closed and her breaths come in short pants and Lexa makes sure to pay close attention to Clarke’s
face, always looking for any sign of discomfort, anything telling her to stop.

But soon enough she is completely buried inside Clarke. Lexa gives her another moment to adjust.
When Clarke opens her eyes and smiles it’s warm and tender. The moment passes when Clarke
scrapes her nails down Lexa back and digs them into her ass. She’s pulling Lexa impossibly closer,
her eyes darkening.

“Now fuck me like you promised, hotshot.”

Lexa has her face buried in Clarke’s neck, her hands fisting the sheets, as she thrusts in and pulls out.
Clarke’s moans are so close to her ear, they spur her on. Occasionally, on a particularly hard thrust,
when she hits just the right spot inside Clarke, her back arches off the bed and their nipples brush and
Clarke makes a sound so sinful it makes Lexa’s clit throb.

Clarke has picked up a mantra of moans and fuck’s, one hand tangled in Lexa’s hair, the other
clawing at her back. She’s urging Lexa on with one-word whispers.

But all too soon Lexa notices the tell-tale signs of Clarke’s orgasm approaching and without warning
she slows down, thrusting in but then not completely pulling out. Clarke growls in frustration, her
nails digging into Lexa’s back as she pulls on her hair to scowl at her.

“What are you doing?” Her voice is hoarse.

“Making this last.” Lexa smirks, angling her hips and thrusting just right to hit a sweet spot inside
Clarke; she closes her eyes in a silent moan. Lexa does it again and again, but she keeps the slow
rhythm. Clarke can’t stop moaning, but it just isn’t enough.

“Please.” She says it so softly that Lexa doesn’t hear her.

“What was that?”

Clarke grabs Lexa’s face with both hands, opening her eyes urgently. She opens her mouth to speak,
but in that moment Lexa leans down and their nipples brush with every move Lexa makes and
Clarke’s word are stuck in her throat. Lexa waits patiently, never losing rhythm, feeling Clarke’s
fingertips play with her hair.

“Babe, please.” Clarke begs. Lexa is taken aback a moment, not certain if she heard correctly or if it
was just her imagination, but she’s pretty sure that Clarke just called her babe. Her rhythm falters for
a moment and she’s about to pick it back up and answer when suddenly she feels Clarke pulling her
face closer.

And then she feels Clarke’s lips on her own. They’re dry and a little cracked, but they’re soft and
Lexa is shocked while Clarke is whispering “please” in between short kisses. Lexa starts moving her
hips again and Clarke is sighing contently and softly moaning in her mouth now and it takes all of
her willpower to keep herself from kissing Clarke properly.

Lexa feels Clarke’s hands moving from her face into her hair, unconsciously pulling her closer and
she musters up the courage to stop before they are bound to make a mistake. A mistake even bigger
than the one they’re already making. One Lexa knows they can’t come back from.

“Clarke.” She says, so softly, almost sounding pained.

Clarke opens her eyes then, looks at Lexa for what feels like a lifetime and Lexa couldn’t look away
if she tried. Everything happens so fast after that.

Clarke tightens her grip on Lexa’s hair and forcibly pulls her towards her, pressing their lips together
so desperately as if she needs Lexa to breathe. Lexa relishes the feeling, sinking into it, into Clarke’s
body, but doesn’t dare reciprocate.

Until she feels Clarke’s lips part, moving her own with them and then there’s a hint of wetness
against her lips. Lexa thinks she imagined it, until Clarke swipes her tongue over her bottom lip and
Lexa sighs heavily.

All her resolve, weeks of fighting her feelings, endless nights of talking herself out of foolish actions;
it’s all gone, it all means nothing the moment she feels Clarke’s tongue against her lips.

Lexa moves. One hand releasing the sheet and tangling in Clarke’s hair, her tongue reaching out to
meet Clarke. They find an angle, a rhythm within seconds and they kiss until they’re breathless and
panting.

Their eyes meet in the deafening silence that follows as they catch their breath and it’s clear to both
of them; there is no going back now.

“Please.” Clarke says again, and this time Lexa doesn’t hesitate. She kisses Clarke again as she
moves their bodies, rolling over carefully so Clarke is on top of her. She places her hands on
Clarke’s hips, guiding her as Clarke slowly begins moving again.

They share a kiss every now and then, in between sighs and moans. After a while Lexa moves her
right hand in between them, angling her arm a little uncomfortably to find Clarke’s clit. The moment
her thumb makes contact, Clarke moans loudly and from there it doesn’t take much longer. Clarke
becomes frantic in her movements; Lexa tries to steady her but it proves unnecessary, because a
moment later Clarke moans out her orgasm. Her hips move without rhythm, just trying to chase the
feeling and then she slows before collapsing against Lexa, face buried in her neck.

Lexa moves her hands to rub Clarke’s back tenderly. The silence returns. It’s heavy enough to
paralyze Lexa with fear, thoughts of Clarke regretting their kiss entering her mind. She knows there
is no going back. They can only go forward or it all ends here and then there’s a thought that scares
her more than anything – she is not willing to lose Clarke.

She takes a deep breath, willing herself to bring it up and talk about it, but then Clarke sighs heavily
above her. Lexa thinks she feels a faint wetness in her neck. Is she crying?
Clarke looks up at Lexa after a while and Lexa studies her face for any signs that she might have
been crying, but she finds none. Instead she watches as Clarke’s lips form into a mischievous smirk.

“Since I’ve waited so long for this, I hope you know I’m not settling for one and done.” Moving her
hips to punctuate her statement.

Lexa sees right through it, and she’s not sure if that’s a good sign or not. There’s a debate in her
head, about choosing to do the right thing. And the right thing would be to stop and talk. But that’s
not what she wants, she’s not even sure she is strong enough to do that right now. She supposes this
is the part where she sells her soul. Because she pushes all thoughts of their rules and her feelings
and Clarke’s actual boyfriend to the back of her mind, so far away that it won’t come back anytime
soon, and she plays along.

Lexa smirks in response. “I hope you know I’m nowhere near done with you.” She sounds confident
enough and anyone paying attention would see that Clarke sighs in relief.

(Lexa pays attention, she always does.)

But despite her confident tone, despite her effort to silence her conscience, she still lifts Clarke up, off
the dildo and off her hips, easily flipping her over. She stands up, by the side of the bed and
unceremoniously pulls Clarke toward her, taking her on her hands and knees, unable to look at her,
unable to resist kissing her again.

//

Clarke lies in the bed alone, still naked and spent, listening to Lexa’s footsteps receding down the
hallway, hearing the door click shut and when she’s absolutely sure that she’s alone she breaks down
sobbing.
 no, that's not true
Chapter Summary

Clarke makes a decision, hearts are broken.

Chapter Notes

This is not my favorite chapter. Both because it isn't a happy chapter, but also because
after numerous rewrites and edits, I still don't feel like it fits. I've thought about this
chapter so much. And when I picked it up again the first time it was this chapter that put
me off again for a while. I knew I had to get through it, I knew this had to happen. It's
going to make everything much more worth it in the end.
But this isn't a happy one. There's pain and it's kinda angsty and no one's kissing the girl
they love.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Clarke ignores her calls and her texts, she avoids sleeping at home, only letting Finn know that she’s
painting as an explanation for why she’s not there. He never replies. She doesn’t care. Despite that,
she still checks her phone every ten minutes, putting it down in disappointment every time. In all
honesty, she’s not sure what she’s hoping for, but she is also trying to ignore that the only thing she
can think of is Lexa. So maybe she is waiting for a call or a text from her, maybe she is hoping that
nothing changed, but deep down she knows that’s not true.

She saw it in her eyes when she left. The unspoken questions, the uncertainty. She can’t blame Lexa.
She can’t blame her for anything. Clarke knows she was the one who broke her own rules. Every
goddamn one of them. And before last Friday she could still pretend she had control, she could still
pretend this wasn’t something more than just an arrangement for sex. But now it’s Monday and all
she can think of is Lexa. And her lips, and how they felt so soft and tasted so sweet, so inexplicably
like her. There’s no more pretending.

It’s Wednesday. It’s nearly twelve o’clock. She has ignored Raven and Octavia too. And she is very
well aware of the degree in which she is ignoring them, because there are dozens of texts from them
individually and even more in their group chat. She sees them every time she checks her phone
hoping to see Lexa’s name.

It’s Wednesday, exactly twelve o’clock and Raven is pretty much breaking down her door. Clarke
takes one look at herself: outfit obviously haphazardly thrown together, hair a mess because she
hasn’t showered since Saturday morning, eyes red and puffy. She opens the door looking exactly
like that.

“What the fuck?” Raven looks obviously surprised and Octavia is so shocked she can’t even voice it.
Clarke walks back into her tiny living room, door still open and her best friends gaping at her. They
enter cautiously, as if approaching a dangerous animal and both perch on the coffee table in front of
the recliner where Clarke is currently, and has been for days, curled up in.
“What happened?” Octavia asks.

“Yeah.” Raven agrees. “We were kind of expecting that we had to drag you away from your
mystery lady.” She tries to lighten the mood but Clarke seems to sink even further in her chair.

“What happened?” Octavia asks again.

Clarke looks at them, her lip quivering, her eyes trying to hide a sadness that runs so deep it’s a
losing battle. “I fucked it up.” She admits finally.

“I had rules, you know? Five rules that I told her before we started so that we couldn’t fuck this up.
So that I could just enjoy this one thing until fucking Finn got his fucking shit together.” Octavia and
Raven nod, their silence urging Clarke on. “How hard can it be to keep five rules, huh? Well,
fucking hard is how hard.”

“What were the rules?” Raven asks tentatively, immediately feeling Octavia’s glare boring in the side
of her face.

“No kissing on the mouth. No staying after sex or sleeping over. No communication outside of the
occasional text to confirm details. No naming each other to friends and/or family. No feelings.” She
lists. And then, softer than her entire previous rant. “And I broke all of them.”

Understanding comes over Octavia and Raven within seconds and they rummage around the small
apartment quickly and resolutely, coming back to Clarke with two bottles of wine and two glasses.
They fill the glasses for themselves and then hand the bottle to Clarke, who takes a long gulp.

“Talk.” Raven says.

So Clarke tells them the story. How meeting once a week turned into twice a week, how they started
texting about mundane things, about that night Lexa stayed over and how nice it was to just sit there
in the morning and drink tea with her. How they kissed, how she couldn’t stop herself and how
much she just wants to do it again and again. How she somehow, somewhere down the road,
developed impossible feelings for this woman that she barely knows.

“When will you see her again?” Octavia asks. Clarke looks at her best friend for a while, then out the
window as she brings the bottle of wine back to her lips and then back to her friends.

“Never.” She decides. They protest at the exact same time, but Clarke simply holds her hand up,
effectively silencing them. “No. I had rules and I broke them and I should’ve stopped this the
moment it started spiraling out of control. But I didn’t, because I was too focused on myself. So no,
I’m never seeing her again and I’m going home to my boyfriend and whatever problem we have,
we’re going to fix it.”

Octavia and Raven admire her loyalty and determination, and that’s exactly why they don’t bother
stopping her. It’s not up to them to decide if her relationship is worth being in, but anyone taking a
longer look would see there’s a hardly a relationship to speak off anymore. They know Clarke
knows that too and she blames it on herself, so now she takes it upon herself to fix it. That’s just how
she’s always been.

//

Clarke isn’t entirely sure where she found the willpower or the motivation, but after she kicked
Raven and Octavia out, she showered and put on something nice and with a bright mood she drove
home. It’s only three, so she’s not expecting Finn to be home and she plans on cooking an elaborate
meal, surprising him when he does come home.
It’s a little weird stepping through the front door, somehow she doesn’t feel at home anymore, but
she pushes that feeling away. The living room is a bit of a mess, two empty pizza boxes precariously
balancing on the edge of the coffee table and beer cans lying on the ground. She begins to feel angry,
but then reminds herself that she was the one who refused to go home for five days, so she cleans the
mess without complaint.

Before she gets to cooking her big surprise dinner, she decides to dump her dirty laundry and put on
a shirt that won’t suffer from the stains it will inevitably procure as she cooks. But her foul mood
returns the moment she sees the bedroom, which is also a horrible mess. Clothes strewn over the bed
and the floor, bedsheets dirty and crumpled. She decides to clean that up too, intent on making
amends for her shortcomings lately, until her eyes land on a lacy white bra topping the pile on the
bed. There’s no doubt it isn’t hers. Not just because she doesn’t recognize it, but because it’s
obviously several sizes smaller than her own.

She falls to the floor in the middle of her bedroom. Torn between sadness and anger.

Finn comes home at nine in the evening, thankfully alone. He is surprised to see her sitting on the
couch, legs crossed, glass of red wine in her hand. He doesn’t even try to be happy to see her again.

“Hey.” He says, as she drops his bag by the dinner table.

“Hello.” She looks up at him. He looks around nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

Clarke had debated for hours on her approach. In the end she decided to still clean up the bedroom,
throwing his dirty laundry in the therefor designated bin and collecting all items belonging to a
female other than herself on a neatly folded pile on the bed.

She purposely left the door to the bedroom open and if he takes another few steps he’ll be able to
look through it from where he stands and see that exact pile. She says nothing, just waits for him, and
after a moment he takes a nervous step forward, then another. He seems to be approaching her, not
even thinking about the state he left the bedroom in before he left, but then he stops, no doubt
catching sight of the bedroom in his peripheral.

His back goes rigid, he swallows hard. “When did you come home?” He finally asks.

“Earlier today.”

“How are you?”

“Honestly, Finn? I’m feeling rather fine. How are you?” She raises her eyebrow. “Feeling better?”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “I- I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Of course not. I am talking about the problem you’ve had for months, involving me and your dick.
But now I understand why you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about, since the problem apparently
had nothing to do with your dick and everything to do with me. Or am I wrong?”

“Clarke, what the fuck are you talking about?” He is getting visibly irritated, but Clarke stays calm,
just taking a slow sip from her wine.

“Simply about the four bras I found in our bedroom.” He flinches. “I folded them and left them on
the bed, don’t worry.”
Silence falls over them. Finn is breathing heavily, not sure where to keep his eyes and Clarke just
stares at him, impossibly patient.

“This is the part where you explain everything to me.” She offers.

“To you? I’m sorry, but I’m not the one who went completely radio silent for five days.”

“For which I am sorry, for which I owe you an explanation. Which is why I came here, intending to
cook dinner for us and talk. But then I walk into my bedroom and am greeted with underwear that is
definitely not my own. So right now, you can explain first.”

“You think you’re so innocent?” He spits out.

“I’m sorry?”

“You go and fuck your… what is she? Girlfriend by now, I suppose? You go and fuck her for five
days just texting me that you’re painting and then you come here demanding an explanation.”

“You’ve got it so wrong.” She says, breaking eye contact and staring at a spot on the wall to remain
calm.

“Stop lying to me, Clarke.”

“I’m not lying to you! I’ve never lied to you. You knew what I was doing, I asked you about it, I
told you about her. I tried to be here with you, more than once, but you kept shutting me out. You
have been lying to me.”

Silence again. But Clarke is no longer calm enough to wait for him to start talking.

“How long?” She asks.

“What do you mean?”

“How long have you been sleeping with her?” She throws her arm out in the direction of the
bedroom, indicating she means the owner of the lacy white bra.

“Why does it even matter?”

“Because if you tell me now that it was just this week, hell even just this month, I’ll forget about it.
I’ll let it go, I’ll call it even. I’m not seeing Lexa again, you won’t see her again and you and I are
gonna work this out together.”

He grinds his jaws together, closing his eyes for what seems like minutes and when he opens them
again and looks at Clarke again, she knows it wasn’t just this week or even this month.

“Before or after?” Is her final question. Thankfully he doesn’t play dumb this time, he knows exactly
what she means. His silence stretches into the night, once again answer enough, but she waits. She
needs to hear him say it.

The air in the room shifts. Finn seems to have accepted what is happening and instead of fighting he
relents, his body visibly uncoiling. When he speaks again his voice is almost as gentle as it was when
Clarke first met him, when Clarke fell in love with him. And in that moment, she realizes that she
never noticed how much he had changed from the person she once fell in love with.

“Before.” He finally admits. “But with someone else.”

Clarke wants to run. Her skin feels constricting, like it’s trapping her. But the past few months flash
before her eyes and as everything replays in her head, she just has to know one last thing.

“Why did you lie to me?” She feels angry, so angry that she’s not sure how her voice remains so
calm. “Why didn’t you just tell me that you were seeing someone else, that you weren’t attracted to
me anymore?”

She wants to explain how inadequate, how unloved he had made her feel. She wants to tell him how
much she has blamed herself, during and even before Lexa. But she doesn’t. Because she knows that
none of that would matter anymore. It would just be throwing blame his way, it wouldn’t change
anything. But she still wants to know why he seemed to have thought she wasn’t worthy enough of
the truth.

His reply is honest and heartfelt. Clarke aches with it for days.

“I thought it would fade.”

//

Clarke called Raven to ask if she could sleep at her place. The thought of not sleeping in the
apartment with Finn was already crossing her mind as she cleaned the bedroom that afternoon and so
she already had a small bag with some of her clothes ready to go that evening. She also refused to
sleep at her apartment above the gallery, too many memories threatening to haunt her there as well.
So Raven picks her up not even ten minutes after she called, no doubt having broken some speeding
limits on the way. The drive back to her apartment is wordless, the next day as well. But then it’s
Friday and Clarke is torn inside, so many feelings running through her and all of them conflicting.

Clarke is still buried in her pillows and Raven and Octavia sit down on either side of the bed in
Raven’s guestroom; one gently stroking her hair, the other rubbing her back.

“Will you tell us what happened?” Raven is the one asking this time. Clarke laughs bitterly.

“Am I blind?” She asks. “Am I naïve?”

“No.” They say, one after the other, answering both her questions.

Clarke turns around then, backing herself up against the headboard. She pats the empty spaces beside
her, prompting Octavia and Raven to sit next to her.

“He was cheating on me even before I started seeing Lexa.” She expects them to fall out in anger at
the revelation that Finn cheated, but instead they both fall silent with their mouths hanging open.

“LEXA?” They yell out and Clarke realizes her slip-up.

“Oh shit.” She hides her face in her hands.

“Lexa, as in my partner Anya’s sister, Lexa?” Octavia asks.

“Lexa, who we had lunch with while Finn was right there, Lexa?” Raven asks.

And for the first time in a week, Clarke genuinely laughs.

When the laughter resides, and the shock has gone away, Clarke tells them about her conversation
with Finn. They assure her she is neither blind nor naïve and remind her of her numerous attempts to
keep things working before giving Finn time and space to figure it out himself. She feels a little better
after that.

But as the evening approaches she begins to become restless, checking her phone every other
minute. Raven pauses the movie they put on after Octavia left for work, first swearing five blood
oaths to not mention anything to Anya.

“Either you put that phone away or you text her.” Raven says.

“I can’t. It would be weird.”

“Then put it away.”

“No. What if she texts me?”

“Do you really think she will?” Raven asks, not trying to sound rude, but from the little time she
spend with Lexa and the many stories she has now heard, she expects her to give Clarke time and
space to decide if she is still welcome.

Clarke doesn’t answer, having come to that same conclusion days ago.

“If you want to be with her, then text her.”

“What do you mean be with her?” Clarke asks, almost sounding offended, ready to launch into a rant
on how she won’t rebound into a new relationship just one day after her previous one ended.

“I don’t mean be be with her. I just mean, you know, be with her like usually on Friday.”

“But it would be weird.”

“Why?”

“Because we kissed.”

“No, not just because you kissed, Clarke, and you know it.”

She doesn’t say any more, because Raven is right. She does know why. She’s just never going to
admit it.

//

There’s no lunch on Wednesday, there’s just the three of them going through all the stuff in Clarke’s
old apartment, deciding what to take with her and what to leave. Everything she decides to keep fits
in the two cars they drove to the apartment, a surprisingly high amount of her stuff already being at
her gallery apartment. Which is now just her apartment.

Clarke decided that despite the memories the apartment holds, she wasn’t willing to go to the trouble
of finding a new place. This one is practical and cozy and feels like home already. Besides, most of
the memories are happy ones and she hopes that one day she can sit on the couch without the dull
ache in her heart that sounds a lot like Lexa.

Lexa hadn’t called or texted all week and Clarke appreciates the privacy, but it also caused her to
make up her mind and stop their arrangement. They were in too deep anyway, there is no way they
could go back to just having casual sex. Clarke still won’t admit it, but there’s something in the air
between them and that’s why she can’t see Lexa anymore. She just hasn’t told her yet.

The first day alone in her apartment is weird. She has all her stuff now, she has nowhere else to go
and nothing to do, it feels surreal. So she sits on the couch watching TV all day, just passing time
before her life doesn’t feel completely uprooted anymore.

She goes to lock the door just before bed when something catches her eye by the door. There’s
something on the floor, still a little hidden underneath the door, as if someone pushed it underneath.
She picks it up and immediately recognizes one of her favorite paintings by Monet. She stares at it,
surprised and taken aback before thinking to turn it around.

On the back are three simple words, scribbled in an elegant handwriting. There’s no name, but
Clarke doesn’t need one to know who left it at her door. A sliver of excitement runs through her
veins at the thought of Lexa having been here tonight, on the other side of this door, while she sat on
the couch. But overall a sudden warmth comes over her as she reads the card again.

She goes to bed feeling better than she has in days, the postcard resting against the lamp on her
nightstand.

Take your time.

//

Clarke paints for days on end. She hardly eats and sometimes falls asleep with the paint still on her
hands.

On Friday she purposely shut off her phone, turned the radio on louder than strictly necessary and
paints until her eyes are tired and hurting. She is glad to see that it’s passed midnight once she finally
wills herself to stop and tries not to think about why she feels compelled to spend her Friday like that.

On Wednesday Octavia and Raven take her out for lunch again, to get routine back in her life and
congratulate her on surviving one week in her own apartment and blissfully without Fuckboy Finn –
nickname courtesy of Raven.

She is beginning to feel better, no matter how short of a time it has been. She doesn’t miss Finn, but
she’s not surprised by that. She’s more surprised that she’s not feeling guilty because of that. She
misses someone else though, but that’s something she pushes away. Simply because it’s easier.

Friday again. Clarke hates that she can’t just skip it, hates that she can’t just make the day go away
and live her entire life without it. She threw the postcard in the drawer of her nightstand after two
days, unable to stand the reminder. She had made up her mind, she didn’t need Lexa’s kindness to
dissuade her. She just still couldn’t tell her yet. So Clarke decides that painting until she falls asleep is
a great way to spend Friday from now on.

Except when she walks upstairs to her apartment that night and opens the door, there’s another
postcard on the floor.

Get some rest.

//

Three weeks, three Fridays without her, three postcards. That’s how long it takes for Clarke to admit
it. She misses Lexa because she is in love with Lexa. And her heart feels so empty and vulnerable
because she feels like she lost her.

It’s never been about her relationship with Finn ending, it’s always been about Lexa.

She lies sobbing in bed as she realizes it. It was never meant to get so out of hand, it was never
supposed to be so serious. If it hadn’t, this wouldn’t have been so hard, but instead it is. All she
wants to do is go to her and tell her and be with her, but she’s stopping herself for reasons she
doesn’t know.

Because it’s weird, because it isn’t right, because this was never supposed to be about love. It was
just sex, nothing but desire and lust. Until it wasn’t.

(And because deep inside, Clarke doesn’t feel like she could ever deserve Lexa.)

///

Lexa doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries, even though technically there are no more
boundaries. And, as Anya has reminded her many times over the past month, she had been hurt too.
But Lexa kept reminding herself that she was strong, she had survived much worse; she could
survive without her heart. It hadn’t even felt like this when Costia left. So bleak and empty. She had
never in her life felt like this.

She was down to her last postcard. Regretting she had only bought four, but never expecting this
would be what she’d use them for. Never expecting she’d be needing more.

She’s been putting it off, hasn’t even written anything on it, because doing so would be the
beginning of the end and Lexa isn’t ready for that. She knows that with this last card delivered, she
would no longer have a reason to go by the apartment. She would no longer have an excuse to walk
by the gallery and wistfully stare up at the lit windows above.

Of course she could knock on the door, ask for answers, but she doesn’t want to overstep any
boundaries.

Lexa watches the minutes tick by, pen in her hand, card in front of her on the table, the little key next
to it. Our apartment, it once was, but Lexa knew better than that. She had to give it back.

She arrives just before midnight, the lights are still on and Lexa waits outside for a while before
going in and silently up the stairs. Her courage leaves her though, when she reaches the door and
sees the small strip of light coming from underneath it. She’s so close, but she’s never been further
away. Sighing, Lexa sits down on the floor, back stiff against the wall, waiting for the lights to go
out.

It doesn’t take long before she sees the shadows of Clarke’s feet at the door and Lexa heart aches
with the thought of Clarke waiting for a card. She feels like crying. She wants to bang on the door
and apologize. She wants Clarke back.

She waits.

The lights turn off minutes later. Lexa turns the key over in her hand and then shoves it underneath
 the door. In the dim light of the hallway she reads her last words again, before sighing and with a
clenched fist pushing the card underneath the door too.

Her breath hitches, a tear falls from her eyes. She reaches for the door one last time, her head leaning
against it, knowing that this is the end. “Goodbye.” She whispers against the thick wood. Leaving
behind the one thing she had dared herself to want, the one thing that was almost hers.

Until it wasn’t.

//

I’ve run out of cards. I guess that means it’s time.

May we meet again.

Chapter End Notes

Commence the yelling. And see you all next sinday.

 this is trust.
Chapter Notes

It's March 4rd, 2016. I wake up, and living in Europe, I have missed the airing of the
latest The 100 episode. The first thing I see on my phone are messages from friends
across Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr. I wonder what happened. And then there's a
tweet from Alycia: "Boom. Out. #Heda"
I instantly knew what that meant; I felt a cold hesitation run through me. I cried. I
watched the episode, I sobbed. I got a small tattoo commemorating my favorite character
a few days later, I printed pictures and hung them in my room, I changed my phone's
home- and lockscreen. I couldn't watch the show anymore, I couldn't write anymore.

It's March 3rd, 2019. Three years later. I got through it, we all did. But there's forever a
part of us that will remember this day and the way we felt - for months, years after, and I
don't think that's a bad thing. This day changed us, loving and losing this character
changed us. And while we've cried and screamed, we also protested and raised money,
we spread a message so loud that it led to actual change.

We'll never get her back and no one can ever replace Lexa. But even though we lost her
presence on our show, she's still with us. On the posters in our rooms, on our phones, in
our hearts and right here, in this fic. Lexa gave us new friends, a new kind of family, a
support system when we needed it most. Lexa gave me all of you.

And I couldn't be more grateful for the support you have given me over the past three
years and for the kindness and excitement the past month. I'm sorry it took me so long.
But thank you all; I love you.

I'm sorry to say that I'm not going to write another Clexa fic. I just don't think I can. So
this is where we part, but please know that I will carry you with me, the way I carry
Lexa with me.

In peace may you leave this shore, in love may you find the next.

She still counts the Friday’s. Raven and Octavia have long since given up on convincing Clarke to
stop being a masochist and find Lexa. But besides her initial fear when she realized she was in love,
besides her refusal to jump into a new relationship right after her previous one ended, Clarke decided
not to find Lexa because it didn’t feel right. She felt like Lexa deserved better. Better than someone
who had left her hanging for a month.

Hell, months. Because even before everything went to shit, she was leading Lexa on. She was
pretending there was nothing but sex between them, even though some days she simply wanted
Lexa’s company more than anything else.

Lexa deserved someone who wasn’t going to hide their feelings for her, and Clarke didn’t feel like
she could be that person. Even now that she had no reason to hide them anymore.
But she still counts the Friday’s. Still counts all the weeks she’s been without Lexa. It feels a little
like penance.

//

The time Clarke spent frantically painting after the last time she was with Lexa, and the time she
spent after that – feeling more creative than ever – have resulted in Clarke’s biggest exhibition to
date.

Looking around her gallery she feels proud, more so than she ever has before. Each of the pieces
displayed are gorgeous and almost none of them are in the same style or theme. There’s something
for everyone. It’s a diversity she never really thought herself capable of.

The exhibition is a full house, with people even waiting outside to be let in. She sold four paintings
within an hour of opening. Clarke feels giddy. But there’s another part of her, a constant voice in her
head, that’s beckoning her to constantly look around the room, always in search of a familiar face.

Instinctively she knows Lexa won’t come. And she has honestly no idea how she would respond if
she did. She wants to see her, craves to hear her voice or feel her touch again, but she’s also scared.
And unsure of what she’d even say.

So every time she looks around and doesn’t spot Lexa, she is both disappointed and relieved. It’s
often a dull feeling, considering the night is going so well and she’s mostly occupied with talking to
guests who are eager to buy pieces. Nearing the end of the evening almost every painting has a little
orange dot stickered on the frame, signifying its status as sold.

As the crowd slims and the room becomes pleasantly quiet, the feeling of missing Lexa becomes
stronger. She can only imagine how excited she’d be for Clarke, how proud. Her chest aches with
the knowledge, and loss.

“Hey,” there’s a soft hand on her shoulder and Clarke turns to see Raven smile gently at her. She
squeezes her hand, silently thanking for all the help that evening.

“Hey.”

“The last guest just left, so O and I are going to head home too, okay?” Clarke nods. They had
agreed to clean most of the stuff up during the last hour of the exhibition and leave the rest for the
next morning.

“Thanks for everything.” Clarke smiles.

“Anytime.” Raven nods, clearly wanting to say more but hesitating. Eventually, she sighs, her
shoulders slumping. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Clarke knows what she means, knows Raven and Octavia must have seen her looking around,
searching. She’s torn on what to say. On the hand she is, on the other she isn’t. She hasn’t really
been okay for months, but she’s slowly getting there. Painting and selling and actually being able to
live off her hobby are helping her be okay. Raven and Octavia are helping her be okay. She isn’t
quite there yet, but she’s confident that one day she will.

“I will be.” She smiles. They hug after that, lingering a little longer than usual. Octavia comes over
then, hugging Clarke goodbye as well and suddenly she is alone again.

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, repeats her own words over and over again in her head,
because she has to believe she will be okay eventually.
The bell above the door chimes, Clarke turns around to ask what Raven or Octavia forgot, or to tell
whoever else it is that they are too late and the exhibition is over. But her words don’t come out and
for a moment she even forgets to breathe.

Still holding the door open, halfway in, as if afraid to step any further, she stands tall and somehow
impossibly insecure.

Lexa.

Clarke stares at her, almost afraid to believe that she is real. Lexa decides to step inside, closing the
door behind her and making the bell chime again. It shakes Clarke awake and she breathes in for
what feels like the very first time.

“Hello.” Lexa sounds tentative, but hopeful and beautiful. As beautiful as she looks, even more
beautiful than Clarke remembers her.

She’s wearing deep blue dress pants, a white blouse neatly tucked in and an immaculately tailored
black coat on top. Her hair is braided to one side, resting over one shoulder.

Clarke isn’t fine at all.

“Hi.” She finally replies, breathless.

“Am I too late?” Lexa asks, eyes boring into Clarke’s soul, no doubt asking a hundred different
question with the same four words. But in that moment Clarke knows that the answer to all of them,
in every lifetime, would be no. You’re right on time. She can’t say that though, not yet, maybe not
ever.

“Not at all.” She says instead. Lexa smiles, Clarke soars.

Wordlessly Lexa starts moving around the gallery, looking at the artwork with the same enraptured
attention she had last time. A little uncertain, but afraid that she might disappear if not in view, Clarke
walks two paces behind. Studying her like she is studying Clarke’s paintings.

It’s unreal having her here, after all those months. Thinking about it earlier in the evening she hadn’t
been sure what she’d say or how she’d feel, but standing her now, so close that all she has to do is
reach out and they’d be touching again, Clarke knows she made the biggest mistake of her life.

She should’ve gone to her after that last postcard. Hell, she should’ve gone after the first. She should
have been with her from the moment she was free of Finn, because Clarke knows now that Lexa is
very many things, but none of them is a rebound.

Clarke knows now that if Lexa lets her, she’s never going to let her go again.

“This may be your best work yet.” Lexa finally says, after almost an hour of silently walking through
the gallery. At some point Clarke had come to stand next to her as she looked at one of the bigger
pieces in the collection, handing her a full glass of champagne; Lexa had smiled so warmly. After
that they walked side by side, Clarke’s fingers itching to reach out all the time, but her conscience
telling her to wait.

Clarke nods, agreeing.

The silence stretches and there’s so much that Clarke wants to say, but she’s not sure if now is the
time or place. A part of her knows there’s never going to be another time or place, but if Lexa makes
any indication right now that she’s not looking to talk, Clarke will accept that. So she waits.

After a while Lexa finishes her champagne and slowly posits her glass on the table next to them.

“I’m glad I came.” She says, nodding resolutely, as if she was debating something and has now
made up her mind. “I’ll go now.” She says then, shoulders straight in confidence. But she sounds so
small and so defeated and even though Clarke just told herself she’d accept it if Lexa chose to leave
without talking she feels like her second chance is slipping away.

Lexa has already turned to leave.

“Lexa, wait.” She calls after her, hand reaching out and fingers finally, finally, touching again as
Clarke pulls her back. She stares at Lexa’s delicate hand for a few seconds before clearing her throat
and letting go, nervously toying with the hem of her shirt instead.

“There’s so much I should say,” Clarke starts, “I don’t even know where to begin. I want to say I’m
sorry, I want to explain everything, even the parts I don’t really understand myself. I want to say
thank you. For everything you’ve done really, and for being who you are, because you’re the best
person I’ve ever met and you made me a better person.”

She stops to take a breath, tears stinging in her eyes. “Frankly I want to cry, even though I’ve been
doing a lot of that lately. And I want to go back in time and do things differently, because you have
no idea how much I regret everything that’s happened. But mostly, primarily, I want to hold you
again. I want to touch you and never let go and I want you to touch me.”

Lexa has been silent through it all and now that Clarke’s done, she’s steadily becoming more
nervous with every silent second that ticks by. She can see the gears in Lexa’s head turning, thoughts
running through each other. Watches as Lexa worries her lips, obviously contemplating what to say
and carefully crafting her sentences.

She looks up from the ground, her eyes soft and vulnerable and Clarke thinks she can see tears
threatening to spill. “Did you leave him?” She finally asks, so soft Clarke almost misses it.

Clarke takes a step closer. “Yes. He had been cheating on me since before you and I met. Afterward
I locked myself in my apartment and it took me a while to figure out that I was more heartbroken
over losing you than I was over losing him.”

“You hadn’t lost me yet.” Lexa says and it stings a little. Because Clarke knows that and it’s one of
the things she would change if she could.

“I know.” She says. “But I didn’t realize the magnitude of my feelings for you yet and I was telling
myself that you deserved more. And by the time I figured it out, I was sure it was too late.”

“Figured what out?”

Clarke hesitates then. Because what she figured out months ago, crying, heartbroken and alone in her
apartment, is still true to this day. But right now it might not matter as much as it would have back
then. Right now, saying it, admitting it out loud, may be the final step to the conclusion that she is
infinitely too late.

For months, she was sure she’d never see Lexa again, was convinced she would forever be the one
that got away. But she’s here now. She got a second chance. And what good would that be if she
made the same mistakes now, if she once again kept her feelings to herself instead of sending them
out into the universe and let fate run its course.
She got a second chance.

“I’m in love with you.”

//

Lexa blinks slowly, feeling like the breath has been knocked out of her. She had hoped that she
would one day see Clarke again and that the whirlwind of emotion behind her eyes would finally
give way to the words she had wished for months to hear. Words that she could never say out loud
herself until she’d hear them from Clarke.

But after so long she had given up hope.

Anya told her about the exhibition, having heard about it from Octavia, because her sister knew that
Lexa avoided walking by the gallery now. She had only told herself she wouldn’t go for half a day,
but by nightfall knew that she couldn’t stay away. Still, she had delayed going until the very last
minute and even then her nerves almost stopped her from walking through that door when she saw
Raven and Octavia walk out.

Clarke looked as gorgeous as ever. Maybe even more, because there was a lightness to her now that
Lexa had never seen in their months together.

Lexa never went a day without thinking of Clarke. She missed her and craved her like life wasn’t
complete without her and seeing her only made it so much worse. She had thought that going to the
exhibition would maybe help her finish a chapter, close the book. Had thought that maybe Clarke
had moved on by now, with Finn, or someone new and if she could just see that, it would make
moving on herself so much easier.

But she was alone, looking gorgeous and somehow incomplete and it took all Lexa’s willpower to
not go over immediately and offer to make her complete. Lexa knew then that moving on was a lost
cause.

From their very first time together, Lexa was done for. It took Clarke no time or effort at all to pull
Lexa into her orbit and every moment together only made it worse. There would never be another
person for Lexa, ever again.

She had resigned herself to that fact very early on, had accepted that even if she was sometimes so
sure Clarke felt a sliver of the same way, they would never be together.

But then…

“I’m in love with you.”

She is breathless, unsure if she even heard it right, unsure if she’s imagining things. But Clarke looks
confident in the wake of her confession, patiently waiting for whatever Lexa’s response will be.

And for another few moments Lexa is contemplating it, wondering what the appropriate response
would be, until she gives up. Until she decides to hell with appropriate and common sense and she
does, unrestrained and freely, what she has wanted to do for months.

She closes the gap between her and Clarke, cups her cheeks in both hands and finally, after too long,
brings their lips together again.
Time passes in a blur after that gentle first kiss in the gallery and before Lexa has even properly
processed what’s going on, Clarke is pulling her inside the apartment again. Their lips never leave
each other, except for the occasional few seconds they need to breathe or use to change the angle,
but after so long of denying themselves this, they are both somewhat afraid they will lose each other
again if they part.

Lexa doesn’t mind though. She comes alive under the soft pressure of Clarke’s lips. So soft and
demanding and for the first time wholly hers. She doesn’t have to hold back anymore, doesn’t have
to think of any lines she might be crossing or boyfriends she might be indirectly betraying. For the
first time she gets to kiss Clarke without having to apologize for it and she’s not planning on stopping
any time soon.

Somehow the door closes behind them and Lexa pushes Clarke up against it, their bodies pressed so
tightly together she’s not sure where one begins and the other ends, but she needs to be as close as
possible. She needs to know that Clarke is really there with her in this moment.

But Clarke holds Lexa’s face in both hands, kissing her frantically and without rhythm and it’s
nowhere near perfect, but it’s hot and it’s just what she needs. It’s a physical confirmation that Clarke
really wants her, just as much as she wants Clarke.

All the while her hands wander slowly up, over Clarke’s sides until they reach her chest and she
cups her breasts firmly in both hands. Clarke gasps. Lexa keeps moving her left hand up, until she’s
able to take hold of Clarke’s hair and keep her steady, forcing more rhythm into their kiss. Clarke
moans.

It makes Lexa stop suddenly. Taking a step back, she looks Clarke over – her hair is disheveled, her
breath comes in short pants and she’s looking at Lexa like there’s no one else in the world. She
wants to make the most of this moment. She wants to believe there will be other nights, more
chances to press Clarke against doors and walls and ravage her and make her beg like only she
knows how to. But for all the times that she’s been with Clarke before, she can’t really say she has
ever had the chance to make love to her.

So she wants to make the most of this moment, because it’s not every day that you get a second
chance. She wants to take her time and whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she works her up,
achingly slow and she wants to kiss her in between gasps and moans, feeling her breath on her lips.

She realizes a second too late that she’s been staring too long, because Clarke’s eyes panic, her
shoulders hanging heavy in the face of rejection. Lexa smiles softly, moving her hands to hold
Clarke’s cheeks between her palms.

“We have time.” She says softly, reassuring herself as well as Clarke. And Clarke nods in response,
smiling back up at her.

“We have time.” She echoes. Simultaneously, albeit maybe unknowingly, promising Lexa that there
will be other nights and more chances to discover each other again. All Lexa really needs right now
is to have Clarke close, unbridled and free, belonging to no one but time.

Lexa takes Clarke’s hand, silently leading her to the bedroom, restoring a sense of calm to the
situation. Once in the bedroom, she turns to Clarke, silently asking her if she’s still in this. Because
Lexa knows that this moment will change their relationship forever. Their vague, completely
undefined, imperfect relationship that she so desperately wants to build upon. But she needs Clarke
to be ready for that too, she needs Clarke to understand that this moment – not their first sleepover,
not even their kiss, but this – is the point of no return.
Clarke closes the gap, pulling Lexa to her and kissing her deeply. And while it’s not the first kiss
they shared after so long, time slows. Lexa feels Clarke’s tongue graze her lower lip and she gasps
against Clarke’s mouth.

They kiss as Clarke lets Lexa’s coat slip from her shoulders and fall to the ground. They kiss until
Clarke breaks their contact to pull Lexa’s shirt off and then slowly backs her to the bed. Lexa sits
down, staring up at Clarke as if she’s seeing the sun for the first time.

As Clarke bends down to kiss Lexa again, Lexa pulls her towards her, falling back on the bed with
Clarke landing on top of her. She immediately moves to take Clarke’s shirt off as well, wanting to
feel her skin against her own. Before long they are both naked, exploring each other freely, moving
together in a familiar dance their bodies seem to remember on instinct.

Lexa roams her hands over Clarke’s body above her as Clarke kisses down her neck, over her
collarbone and down to her chest before taking a desperate nipple in her mouth. Lexa hums, her
body arching into Clarke. Eventually Clarke shifts to the other nipple, devouring it with the same
focused attention. Lexa feels vulnerable beneath it, open and exposed, out of control. But Clarke’s
hand rests protectively on her hip, the other on the pillow next to her head, keeping herself up. Her
fingers play with some loose strands of hair, her thumb brushes Lexa’s cheek irregularly.

Yeah, she feels vulnerable, and at the same time she feels inexplicably loved.

Clarke moves back up to kiss Lexa and she accepts it gratefully, content to just lie there and be
kissed by Clarke forever. But Clarke’s hand roams her side, massages her boob every now and then,
her thumb brushing her nipple and sending shivers down her spine. And Clarke’s thigh is pressing
between her legs; close enough to touch, but not close enough to give any pressure and eventually
Lexa grows restless. Her breath comes in shorter pants, her hips keep bucking up in search of
friction.

Lexa would be embarrassed had she been with anyone but Clarke, but as it is she feels said girl’s lips
smile against her own and it calms her.

Clarke deepens their kiss as she moves her hand back down Lexa’s side until it finally rests between
her legs, hovering, waiting. When Lexa whines into the kiss, Clarke finally runs her finger through
Lexa’s damp folds. She works her up slowly, taking her time; they share languid kisses and
sometimes Clarke pulls back and leans her forehead against Lexa’s, taking in her soft gasps.

After a while, Clarke hits just the right spot and Lexa moans loudly, her eyes shooting open and
staring right back at Clarke’s victorious grin. Lexa pulls her in for a frantic kiss, and when they part
she purposely keeps Clarke close as she lets her hand wander down and in between Clarke’s legs.
The moment she presses against Clarke’s clit and hears her moan, she grins in return.

And so they lie there; carefully working each other up, sharing kisses in between gasps and moans.
Lexa remembers every spot that makes Clarke whimper and Clarke effortlessly discovers all the
places to unravel Lexa, now that she’s finally no longer holding herself back.

Lexa comes first, her free hand digging into Clarke’s back, her moans filling the room as Clarke
works to stretch out her orgasm as long as possible. And after Clarke comes they catch their breath
for a moment, planting sloppy kisses on each other’s lips. But before long Lexa catches a familiar
glint in Clarke’s eyes and it sparks something in her body again.

She flips Clarke effortlessly, taking her sweet time kissing down Clarke’s body until she’s firmly
nestled between her legs, Clarke’s hand already in her hair.
It feels like hours later when Lexa finds herself dozing off, comforted by the warmth of Clarke’s
body wrapped around her. She slowly comes back to consciousness when she feels Clarke move and
involuntarily shivers as Clarke leaves the bed.

Clarke chuckles softly, Lexa can’t help but smile at the sound of it. “Are you cold?”

“No,” Lexa hums, “but come back here anyway.”

“Just a moment.”

Lexa listens as Clarke locks the front door and turns off lights on her way back to the bedroom.

“Do you want underwear?” Clarke asks, already rummaging through her drawers.

“I want you.”

“Who knew you’d be so sappy?” Clarke grins as she walks back to the bed, opting to forego the
underwear altogether.

“I did.” Lexa states matter-of-factly, smiling when she feels the bed dip beside her. Clarke wraps
herself around Lexa again, bringing the blanket with her. They settle easily and despite the
comforting domesticity of it all, Lexa feels something tug at her heart. A fear that this is just a very
vivid dream. Even worse, the fear that Clarke wakes up in the morning and changes her mind. She
can’t shake it and as her body grows heavy with it, she feels the sleep leave her entirely.

Minutes stretch in silence and Lexa still can’t quite get herself to bring it up, but she listens for
Clarke’s breathing and realizes she’s still awake, so she knows that if she’s going to say something
she has to do it now.

“I have to know, though.” She whispers eventually. “I have to know that this is real and tha-”

“Lexa.” Clarke cuts her off, lifting herself up and finding Lexa’s gaze in the soft moonlit room. “I
meant every word I said.” She kisses the words onto her lips like a promise.

“I’m in love with you and I have been for far longer than I dare to admit. I’ve been yours since the
day we met.”

///

The first time Lexa takes Clarke for a ride on her motorbike they get lost because Clarke insists on it.
Lexa thinks it’s silly, but the glee with which Clarke makes the request has her agreeing without
much of a fight. So Clarke keeps having her make turns that make no sense until they are out of the
city and shortly after find themselves on a hill overlooking it.

Clarke proposes there, two years later.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!