An Ocean For Me To Drown: Bellarke One Shots

Painting and Touching

Clarke painted the fierce blue streaks so lovingly. Her mind lost to the artwork in front of her, she didn't even notice that Bellamy had been watching her.

His brown eyes staring at her so deeply and intently, she slowly turned to the table behind her, full of open paints.

"Bellamy!" She gasped. "How long have you been standing there? I didn't know you were coming over today." She nervously tried to tug down her oversized shirt over the very small thong she was currently painting in.

"I came home a day early to surprise O," he explained. "But I'm the one who got the surprise, huh?"

Clarke blushed deeply. "Sh-she said she would be home around 7, if you want to come back then," Clarke stuttered out.

"You don't want to hang out with me, Princess?" He smirked, his freckle splattered face of confidence was the opposite of how Clarke was feeling.

"No, that's not what I meant," she hurriedly corrected. "I just, I'm not exactly dressed for company."

Her blue eyes widened as Bellamy's tall frame and broad shoulders entered the room. He took slow deliberate steps towards her, causing her to gulp.

"This is a really good painting you're working on, Princess. I like it." Clarke thanked him as he swirled his finger around the rim of the red paint jar. "And these colors are very bright. Very pigmented."

"Yeah, they're my favorites," said, clearing her throat. "Well, hey! How about I go change and we can watch some Netflix or something while we wait on Octavia?"

She started around the table when Bellamy gripped her shirt. "Yeah, you should defintely change," he said, his deep voice dropping an octave. "I can see you decided against a bra this morning," he smirked.

Clarke's face was burning. Her nipples were straining against the thin shirt, just inches from Bellamy's chest. Bellamy tsked, "This shirt has a few patches of paint. It needs to be washed." Clarke gasped as Bellamy tugged her shirt over her head. "Fuck," he whispered as his gaze lowered to her breasts.

Her heart sped up as her breasts began to swell for him. A shiver went down Clarke's spine as Bellamy ran his finger down her chest, leaving a small trail of red paint along her burning flesh.

"Red's always been a good color on you," he whispered in her ear.

Clarke gasped, moaning loudly as hot chills covered her body. She squeezed her legs together as heat and pressure began building between her thighs.

Bellamy's deep chuckle brought back down to earth, her eyes snapping open. "Well, blue has always been a good color on you," Clarke insisted, dipping her index finger and middle finger in the deep blue paint. Slowly, she traced his jawline and down to his neck, the paint bright against his tanned skin.

Without a word Bellamy yanked off his shirt, tossing it in the floor beneath Clarke's painting. Feeling much bolder, Clarke covered her entire right hand in paint. With her left hand firmly gripping his tapered waist, she placed her hand directly on the center of his chest, sliding in down his abs slowly. Bellamy gasped as she swiped across the waist band his jeans, causing her to bite her lip.

Bellamy spun Clarke around, placing her palms down on the table of paints. Her anticipation heightened as she listened to him shed the rest of his clothes. Panting, she watched him dip his fingers in the red and green paints. Bending behind her, his fingers touched her ankles, and slid farther and farther up, burning lines of paint all the way to her shaking thighs.