Reckless

No

Chapter 18

It was the night before Clarke, Octavia, Miller and Raven were to disembark on their trip to the grounder village. Her hair was in a tight braid as she prepared for a walk that would surely leave her out of breath. Clarke looked down at the stretching fabric of her cotton shirt and the dingy white elastic piece Octavia had sewn to look like an extra layer but was really only concealing her skin. Her back was pressed against the wall of her room as she awaited the return of her boyfriend. "I'm not comfortable with this." Bellamy told her as he entered the room again after leaving abruptly for a few moments to control his anger. They'd been fighting for the last week about the same thing.
"But it's happening." Clarke told him. The hand over her stomach only served as a reminder that she was not only endangering herself, but their child. Bellamy started to feel the anger rising in his chest again as he looked at the stubborn creature before him. It sucked that his anger usually morphed into sexual tension because he really wanted to fight her on this. He wanted to tie her to the bed (didn't know if that was more about sex or her safety). "You agreed."
"I wasn't in the position to disagree." He said with a small laugh.
"It's not my fault you can't control yourself." She mimicked her laugh.
"Clarke—" He switched back to his serious tone.
"It's happening." Clarke told him once more, "I don't know why you continue to bring it up when you know it's only going to lead into a fight. My mind isn't going to change because you're looking at me like that. There isn't anything that could change my mind unless I die."
"Don't say that." Bellamy begged, "I can't go down that road."
She huffed, "It's going to be fine."
He moved across the room and slammed himself into their bed. He extended his arm out to her because he wanted her to follow. She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Seriously?" He groaned, "We're really doing this again?"
"Normal people don't want to have sex the second their back is against a mattress." Clarke informed him, "So...yeah, we're doing this again."
"You're going to be gone all day tomorrow..." Bellamy said, "You put me through eleven weeks of torture and now you're leaving and you won't have sex with me? I appeal your decision."
"On what grounds? The fact that I'm getting too big or the fact that you're not going to want to have sex with me every night?"
"That will never happen." Bellamy snorted, "Ever."
Clarke rolled her eyes, "I'm going to be the size of a house."
"A beautiful house." He groaned, "A very beautiful house..."
"But a house." Clarke said, "Look at this." She pulled up her shirt to flash her stomach to him. He jumped up, placing his warm palms on the swollen arc. "I said look, not touch."
"Same concept with you." He pressed into her, rising to take her earlobe between his teeth before whispering softly, "Damn, you're beautiful, Princess...you've always been so fucking beautiful." He captured her mouth with a hungry urgency, his tongue finding hers only for his to curl and dance saying desperately, please don't go... She crushed against his full, throbbing lips as a plea for him to not make her stay. She twined and tangled, curled and fought to make sweeping, wet searches in his mouth only to find that he wanted to control this... He could control this because he couldn't control her—he couldn't make her stay with him.
Clothes evaporated like water.
His hands trailed down her silky, creamy skin with a sigh as if he were committing every piece of her to memory. His hands traced the glow of her body, over the curve of her stomach with a fascinated smile. He loved her soft, curving flesh. He brought his swollen lips to her stomach, kissing a straight line up her skin before reclaiming her lips. He brought her forward until she was rightfully on top of him the way he wanted her to be—for now, at least.
Clarke was absolutely certain that he couldn't understand the sensitivity of her skin. He couldn't grasp how achingly swollen her breast felt or how they didn't even feel like her own. The worst part was the fact they were still blossoming so they could perform their intended purpose creating an amount of discomfort in the process. He eyed them like tantalizing offer, his hands moved up her skin with a slow smile on his face. His hands gently kneaded and stroked her breast before she moved down to skim her body against his chest. He groaned, flipping their position the way she wanted him to.
Her hand gripped his broad shoulder while his tongue danced down her neck. Her fingers began to run down his arm, feeling the hardness of muscle beneath her touch. His body was tight, hard and corded with muscle—his scars only outlined her favorite parts of his skin. He was overwhelmingly sexy compared to her, she thought, his beauty was something she could never have herself. She hoped their child would be beautiful like him.
She would never get used to his blatant, aggressive magnificent arousal and how he pressed himself against her leg long enough for her to know he wanted her. When they came together, she let out of soft whimper of pleasure into his neck. Her arms were now tight around him as he entered her fully with one deep thrust, pulling out slowly and returning gently. She moved to accept him—to please him long enough that he would forget she was leaving in the morning. She was truly accepting all he could give her—inch by incredible inch.
Their sensual rhythm of repeated rocking motions, slamming thrusts, and slow circling hips were met by harsh, uneven breaths. She sucked in a lungful of air only to exhale a ragged gasp as she found that she couldn't lie still underneath him. She felt his warm and erratic breath tickle her throat as he kissed her, his arms wrapped behind her back tightly. "Fuck." She hadn't even realized the word fell from her lips. She tangled her fingers in his hair while he drove her to everything. His shattering release—the way he poured himself into her caused her to cry out in pleasure, a smile hinting on the corners of her mouth when he kissed her cheek and then her lips with the same satisfied smile.
It took them ages to regain their breathing but he eventually mustered up enough strength to ask something that's been on his mind for quite a long time, "Clarke, will you marry me?" It made sense. They made sense. He loved her and they were about to have a child together. Why shouldn't they take the next step?
"No."