(NOT MY STORY)
Clarke slowly cracked an eye open, then immediately shut it when sunlight practically blasted her vision. She retreated further into the welcoming, dark cocoon of her covers, ready to let the darkness soothe her back to sleep. Everything was warm and fuzzy, and she was perfectly content to stay where she was, wrapped in her blankets and snuggled up against-
Wait.
She stopped her wriggling, realizing the warmth at her back was coming from more than just blankets. Glancing down, she found a tanned arm curled around her waist, fingers splayed over her stomach.
Holy shit.
Which led her to another realization - she was completely naked.
Trying to fight the growing dread inside her, she laid still and tried to sort through her hazy thoughts. But all her body wanted to do was focus on the bare legs that were currently tangled with hers, the soft breath on her neck, the hard length pressed up against her backside.
She knew exactly who all of those things belonged to, because nobody else could elicit a reaction like this within the span of mere seconds.
Then the man in question released a longer breath, a sigh. "You even think loudly," Bellamy mumbled, voice rough with sleep, and Clarke blushed hotter than the sun because oh, god she had been so fucking loud, hadn't she?
She tested his grip, finding she was able to turn in his arms but not quite remove his hold altogether. She wasn't sure if she liked that or not. Okay, she wasn't sure if she should like it as much as she did.
Carefully, she twisted onto her back, her eyes drifting up to meet Bellamy's sleepy, sweet gaze. His dark hair was a wild mess atop his head - which she distinctly knew was her fault, with the amount of times she'd rucked her hands through it the previous night. Not that he'd been protesting in the least. As if called by the thought, her fingertips itched to do so again.
She grasped the blankets instead.
This was so, so bad.
He hadn't said another word, but a smile played at the corner of his mouth, as if he was following her increasingly panicked thoughts. But, being Bellamy, he only asked, "Did you sleep okay?"
Even though the question hadn't been intentionally bold - it hadn't, right? - Clarke still wanted to hide her flaming cheeks under the covers. Although, she realized belatedly, she had slept okay, aside from... that. Better than okay, in fact. Sleep had come quick and dreamless, and she now remembered rousing only twice - a record, for her - and thinking just how at peace her mind was before snuggling back into his warm, secure grip. And this morning, waking up wrapped in his arms... well, there were worse things.
She swallowed and offered a shy smile. "Yeah, I did. You?"
"Like a baby," he replied, and there was that cheeky grin she'd been waiting for. Her heart flailed in a million directions, as if hoping just one would lead to him.
Then her stomach grumbled.
With an embarrassed moan, she smashed her face into the pillow, hearing Bellamy's soft chuckle. Her arm shot out, blindly aiming for any part of him she could reach. He easily swatted her away, and then the mattress shifted as he swung his legs off. At his grunt, she peeked up to see him holding his head.
"Piece of advice, get up very slowly," he muttered.
She winced. She'd lost track of just how much alcohol they'd gone through last night. Well - after the third bottle of wine, she figured it was just better to stop counting. With his sister out of state visiting her fiancee's family, and the two of them in pissy moods (she was arguing with mom again, he'd said something stupid to O again), alcohol had seemed like the best option.
