fragile | clexa

chapter seventy seven

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There was a beach house on a cliff overlooking the entire sea. Wooden stairs led down to a bay very much alike the first one they had seen, only bigger, with whiter rocks and steeper cliffs. Few palms stood sturdy against the warm wind.

The house was held simple; it was all white on the outside and had a small hallway, a bathroom, a kitchen, a living room and a bedroom. The kitchen was small but sufficient, the living room consisted mainly of a dining table and a large couch covered in bright linen and the bedroom only had a big, soft bed and a broad shelf / wardrobe.

Clarke showered while Lexa unpacked their horse and brought it to its small stall besides the house. When she came back, Clarke sat on the wide couch dressed in nothing but a thin white robe with embroidered blue cornflowers on it.

"Clarke," Lexa protested weakly.

"I don't have anything to wear but this," Clarke argued with a wave to the bags in Lexa's hands. "There are my spare clothes and those of today are soaked in the salt water I just washed off."

"Mhm."

"Did you listen to me?"

"Hm?"

Clarke just raised a brow and Lexa nodded. "You just washed off the salt water and I have your spare clothes," she repeated while putting the bags down and approaching.

"Yeah. Do you- should I grab my stuff and change?"

"Would you like to?" Lexa's tone was absentmindly lower and softer and Clarke lost her words upon hearing it. Seeing Lexa's patient but desiring expression was enough to figure that Lexa didn't care much for clothes that moment. She tugged the woman down on the couch to her, landing Lexa on her lap as she leaned in for a gentle kiss.

"I have a feeling you'd like me to do something else."

Lexa hummed no while shaking her head, cradling Clarke's face. "I don't want you to do anything."

"I want to do something else," Clarke said, sinking into Lexa's touch.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like taking your shirt off. Would that be okay?"

"Please."

Clarke thought Lexa was breathtaking with her shirt on, but without, she was indescribably beautiful. Preferably, without her chestbindings too. Her subtle yet firm, strong muscles, her ribs, her hipbones, her breasts, her collarbones, her shoulders, her tan skin with scars and stretchmarks, her tattoos. Everything. Anything. So beautiful.

Once she was naked on top of Clarke, Clarke exhaled and let her eyes rake shortly over Lexa. "You're beautiful."

"Thank you," Lexa whispered. "So are you."

Her hands settled on Clarke's hips, her lips on the edge of Clarke's jaw, just below her ear. Her low, warm voice poured into it, "Can I take your robe off?"

"Yeah," Clarke breathed.

The next moment, the the cornflowers crumpled on the floor and Lexa asked softly, "What do you want, love? Would you like to go to bed?"

"This is perfectly fine," Clarke managed as smoothly as possible. She sounded calmer than she felt. This was all she wanted; Lexa close to her, all alone, so intimately hers in a living room that belonged only to them for now.

Lexa noticed her slight stuttering, though. "Yeah? Do you want to be on top?"

It was posed as a question but Lexa was already moving- this was never her place after all, settled so entirely above Clarke, her weight on Clarke, her shadow over the other woman's - she was equally afraid to make Clarke uncomfortable as she was to break her, despite knowing that now, with Clarke's gained strength, Lexa's moderate weight could never even hurt her.