Reckless

We're The Lucky Ones

Chapter 17

It was easy to find the indication of stress on Clarke's face and he immediately notice it when she was in his arms but even more so when they were alone in their room. Her hair was hanging sloppily from a tie and her eyes were nearly shut with exhaustion the second she saw their unkempt bed. "Did you sleep here by yourself?" Bellamy asked because he specifically remembered telling Octavia that Clarke needed to be watched as she slept in case something happened.
She yawned, "For two hours. Don't worry." Her voice was short and annoyed—no, Clarke was pissed but it was hard to tell between her sleepiness and angry tossing of pillows towards the head of the bed. "I just avoided an assassination attempt."
"What?" His voice rose well above his typical octave. She took a seat at the end of the bed, near where he stood and looked up at him with misty, bloodshot eyes. He smoothed backed her hair and waited for her to speak but instead she cried. It was a heartbreaking cry that he hadn't ever heard before—not from her at least. "Baby?"
She choked on her tears as she tried to form words. Eventually, all she could do was wrap her arms around his waist and press her head into his lower abdomen just to feel some type of comfort. He unhooked her arms and lowered himself to his knees before her. "I don't mean to be a mess..." She said apologetically, "I just..." She was struggling to tell him what her mother had done because it would change everything. "She..."
"Who?"
"Abby." The usage of her first name solidified that something had happened that made Clarke feel the need to drop her usual 'my mom...' He placed one hand on her face and the other on her swollen stomach. "She tried to kill her, Bellamy." Clarke sniffled before she fell back into another fit of sobs. He didn't even care about their gender war at the moment. He held the back of Clarke's head as she left dark patches of tears on his shoulder. He felt the sting of tears in his own eyes as he listened to her unsteady breathing. "I looked her in the eye, practically begging her to lie to me and she...she remained truthful and stated her opinion once more."
"What did she do?" He didn't want to ask the question—but he had to know the answer. What were they dealing with? Poison? Herb?
"She attempted a covert stress related miscarry." Clarke said, "24 hours without any sleep turned into 36 hours of being in the medical room due to her orders."
"You need to sleep." Bellamy said, "Let's go to sleep, Clarke. Don't argue...this is important."
"I know." She said and pulled away from him. She struggled to push herself back towards the pillows, "I'm fat, don't laugh." She said with a light blush on her cheeks.
"You're not fat, Clarke." Bellamy said, "You look pretty hot to me."
"That's because it's your child I'm carrying. If I were pregnant with someone else's kid, you'd see the walrus I really am."
"Shh..." He said once her head hit the pillows. He quickly pulled off his own boots only to turn and slide hers off her feet. She smiled down at him but her eyes were shut. His hands pulled his shirt over his head, watching her breathing even out as she fell asleep. He smiled at the sight of her pale skin contrasting against the blue blanket and her unwavering beauty. He moved beside her, wrapping his arms around her before he kissed the side of her face and confessed his love to her and his child.
He closed his eyes and soon drifted off into his own "light" sleep.
When he finally woke up—she was missing. He groaned sleepily, rolling over to his side until he willed himself to get out of bed. He was almost one foot out when she said, "Oh no mister, you're not going anywhere. We're staying in bed today." He smirked as she handed him a plate of the boar they hunted down and slaughtered.
"Only if the bigger plate is yours." Bellamy said, eyeing her overall body. Clarke was thinning some places, growing others and it was bothering him to see her so unhealthy but glowing due to the hormone influx in her body.
"I can't eat all of that—it's wasteful."
"You might, but Little Bellamy can."
"No way." Clarke said, "Not a junior—we are not naming our child Bellamy."
"Well, we aren't naming our child Octavia either nor Augustus."
She forced him to move back over to the side of the bed he was sleeping on. Normally, he didn't sleep away from the door but he wasn't going to argue with her last night. She sat down and started picking at her food. "I really like the name Augustus." She said under her breath, causing Bellamy to half-smile in her direction. "Tyler is a good name."
"Not as good as Bellamy." He practically sung, "You know, princess...baby...Clarkie as my sister lovingly calls you behind your back, I actually have an appetite for something much greater than this right now. I'm sure the baby doesn't want daddy to go hungry."
"But mommy does want you to go hungry until she gets what she wants. Right baby? Right." She moved her hand down her stomach and smiled. "Outnumbered."
"Oh I think mommy wants daddy real bad but she's being extremely stubborn."
"Not as bad as daddy wants mommy." Clarke sang just like Bellamy had before. "Not as bad as daddy wants mommy, right? Because daddy wants to have S-E-X and he is not going to get any if he keeps treating me like the baby. He's going to be so deprived that you're going to be telling him for me that he's not going to get any. I think daddy can do five...seven years without, right?"
He looked over at her, "What if I want you right now?"
"Then it's really simple...it all depends on how bad you want it." Her voice switched from a baby coo to seductive in a matter of seconds and Bellamy had to swallow hard to control himself. "There are things I want to do to you that will blow your mind but none of that will ever happen as long as you keep denying me of my natural right to save our people."
"Dammit." He groaned before his lips crashed into hers. She set down the plate onto the floor before straddling him. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back when he attempted to pull at her shirt.
"No." She hissed at him with a smile curling at her lips, "You have to say I can leave this camp."
"Clarke..."
She grinded into him and he closed his eyes, his mouth falling open for a split second. "Say it." She told him.
"Fine. Princess, you can leave this camp with guards. I'm not letting you walk around by yourself." He said, groaning as she licked up his neck mid-sentence. His mouth opened once more as she peppered kisses across his face only to connect with his lips with a minor moan. Their tongues frisked one another as she rocked against him. He pulled her shirt up over her head and worked hard to keep it together.
Eleven weeks was too fucking long without Clarke.
He watched her take off the rest of her clothes as he removed his pants quickly. She moved between his legs unexpectedly and pressed her tongue to his throbbing length. He fidgeted, attempting to forget how nervous he was about it. He'd never faced performance problems—he was young and healthy but he felt like a teenage virgin that'd never been touched. She circled his head, her hand massaging his base delicately but with a friction he would never forget. He wasn't exactly sure foreplay was what he wanted right now but his body was accepting it so very well. Her head bobbed up and down and he was positive that if she continued to suck him the way she was doing, he wouldn't last very long. "Baby..." He groaned, "I can't wait anymore. Eleven weeks...eleven and as amazing as this feels...damn, oh my fucking god...Clarke, stop."
She unlatched, looking up at him with a devilish smirk. "I'm just making sure daddy enjoys himself." She said innocently and he almost lost his mind pining her underneath him. He could feel her stomach pressing against him and the sense of pride that he'd done that made him smile no matter how unintentional it was. He didn't care what Clarke said about her own self-control, she was ready for him. She was soaking wet for him and he felt his pride flare for a different reason. He moved into her, listening to her moan his name as she adjusted herself.
Each thrust reminded him that she made him wait for eleven weeks—that she'd won this war and he wasn't sad about it. Of course, he knew he would regret his decision much later when she was walking out of the gates because there was no way in hell Abby was going to let them walk out the gates together. "Bellamy..." She called to him, her fingers digging into his back as he continued to move rapidly between her thighs. "Yesyesyesyes..." She squealed when he pressed deeper into her—there was a small fear about going too deep. He was trying his best to be careful but they were both reactive to each other's touch like never before.
It wasn't long before they were both panting, looking at each other while resting on their sides—spent and ready for another nap. Well, at least Clarke was ready for another nap—he wasn't sure he could ever sleep again with her feline seduction skills haunting him. "You should try eating again."
Clarke groaned, "I'm not hungry."
"Half the plate?"
"A fourth."
"A third." He argued, "Eat a third of the plate of food and I will leave you alone for the next four hours about food."
"This why you're going to be a good dad."
He snorted, "I just hope our child isn't as hard headed as you."
"Well, duh. Our kid is going to be the most hard headed out of anyone's kids. Our kid is going to be ten times worse than us according to the Chinese curse."
"We're so fucking screwed."
"So fucking screwed." She agreed, "But so lucky, too."