NSFW

Ice Ice Baby

Would he like to come in? She's joking right? The only reason Bellamy's been able to control himself, to rein himself in was because she was in control. She had all the cards laid out on the table. Or so Bellamy thought but she was holding a royal flush and still folded.

Before Bellamy knew it his feet were moving and suddenly he was holding her, his lips pressed against Clarke's and he felt like he could breathe again opposed to drowning without her. How had he survived over a month without her?

He pushed into the apartment, closing the door with Clarke's body pressed against it. His rock hard dick grinding into her stomach through their layers of clothes.

No, I can't fuck her tonight, he thought and pulled away.

"What?" Clarke grimaced, blue eyes searching his face.

"I—I'm not going to fuck you tonight. Hell, we shouldn't have done that. You asked if I wanted a drink or watch something on Netflix, not take you against the door."

"I wouldn't mind," she breathed and gripped onto his shoulders, nails digging in.

"I know, baby, but I'm serious about you. I want to prove it, I want to date you."

"And the no sex on the first date applies when we've been fucking for a year? No. You've looked that sexy all night and I still can't do anything about it? Not cool."

"Clarke, I'm yours. I've always been yours, I've just been an ass about it."

"So, you just want to watch?" She smirked pulling her skirt up.

"Netflix. Beer. That's what we're going to do tonight. Okay?"

Clarke kissed the corner of his mouth before stepping around him. "You can do that, but I have a lot of pent up frustration that I'd like to work out."

Bellamy sighed and turned around, venturing further into her apartment only to find her sashaying down the hall to the kitchen in a light green bustier and matching lace panties. Her dress a pile on the floor three feet in front of him. An image of him grinding into her and those damn heels digging into his back, asking him for more and the pleasure/pain of the sensation would drive him mad, pushing him to give her more.

"Bell?" she asked giving him a skeptical look.

"Sorry?"

"Stella or that IPA Octavia loves?"

"St—Stella."

Clarke stepped back into the kitchen and came back a minute later with a glass of wine and walked over to him, handing him the Stella and into the living room where he's taken her on every surface. The couch, bent over the chair, the floor, even the damn coffee table, images flashing through his head, taunting him, wanting her even more than before which he didn't think was even possible.

"Are you okay?" she asked, stopping at her spot on the couch. The fact that he knew that meant they were more domestic than he thought they were, guzzling down some of the beer.

"Just trying to keep my promise."

"The one you agreed to days ago when right now, I'm standing in front of you in lingerie, asking you to fuck me and you're standing in the middle of my entry with an obvious erection, groaning and telling me you won't."

"I'm not arguing with you tonight, Clarke. I made you a promise and I was good, I was going home and you called be back and I couldn't not kiss you. I've been trying not to all night and I'm still trying right now."

"I'm still going to get off."

"Yeah, you definitely should."

"Are you saying that you want us to watch each other masturbate?"