Work Text:
In Clarke’s defence, she’s never been camping before. Bellamy and Octavia should have warned her how cold it gets overnight, and that she’d need more than her flimsy silk pyjamas and a sleeping bag she borrowed from Wells to keep warm.
So now she’s shivering in her one-man tent (also borrowed from Wells), wondering if she should go and snuggle up to Octavia in the next tent over, or just suffer in silence. She’d thought the camping trip couldn’t get any worse, but this is just the icing on the cake.
She’d been fine in her shorts and t-shirt during the day, save for the scratches she’d received from nasty plants and fallen sticks that jumped up to bite her, but once night had fallen and she’d left the orbit of the heat of the fire, the chill had set in.
Clarke had gone to bed first, unable to stomach the sight of Bellamy’s girlfriend snuggling up to him any longer. She probably should have realised Roma would be included in the group of Bellamy’s friends that came along with them, but all she’d been thinking about when she agreed to come was that she’d get to spend a whole weekend with him, and maybe he’d finally stop seeing her as a child, and start seeing her the way she sees him. Someone to be desired.
She feels like a fool now, realising that will never happen. All his friends treat her like a little kid, and he does too. And after seeing the obscene way Roma kisses him, Clarke understands why. She’s never kissed anyone like that. Thinking about it now makes her blush. She wonders if they’re having sex, or if Roma has Bellamy’s cock in her mouth.
Clarke picks up her slowly dying phone to check the time. She groans, seeing it’s only just after midnight. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. Making up her mind, she untangles herself from her too-thin sleeping bag, unzips the flap on her tent and steps outside. Fuck, it’s even colder out here. Her nipples are so hard they ache, and her whole body is covered in goosebumps. A cool breeze tickles her pussy through her loose-fitting shorts.
The campfire is still burning, and it looks as if someone dropped another log onto it recently. Perhaps if things don’t pan out like she hopes with Octavia, Clarke can try to sleep in a chair by the flames.
Clarke makes for Octavia’s tent, tapping on the tent flap, hunched over, shivering, trying to keep herself as warm as possible. “Octavia,” Clarke hisses, not wanting to wake anyone else.
“You okay, princess?” Bellamy’s deep voice startles her. Clarke whips her head around, and she can just make out his form, sitting by the fire. She’s not sure how she hadn’t noticed him there before, but he must have been watching her since she got up.
She straightens, hoping her hadn’t been able to see up her shorts as she bent over. She crosses her arms over her chest to hide her protruding nipples, though it’s probably dark enough that he can’t see.
“Um,” she says. “I’m fine.” She doesn’t want to admit that she’s an idiot who doesn’t even know what clothes to bring camping. He already thinks she’s a helpless little princess who doesn’t have any sense or knowledge about the real world. “What are you still doing up?”
He shrugs. “Roma’s annoying me. Plus, she snores.”
“Oh.” She shivers, then tightens her arms over her chest.
“You’re cold, aren’t you?” Bellamy guesses. Clarke nods reluctantly.
“I’m an idiot, I know,” she whispers. “I don’t know anything about camping.”
“I’m the idiot,” Bellamy groans, much to Clarke’s surprise. “I should’ve told you what to bring. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Clarke says, blushing at his sincerity. “I figured I could sleep with Octavia and she’d keep me warm.”
“Except for the fact that she kicks in her sleep.”
Clarke screws up her nose. “Right.” Is being kicked worse than being cold?
Bellamy looks her up and down, probably wondering why she thought a tiny pair of silk pyjamas was a good idea to bring camping. “You want me to come keep you warm instead?” he asks. “It’s the least I could do.”
Clarke swallows, heart already pounding at the thought of him cuddling her through the night to keep her warm, in her barely-there pyjamas. Would he offer if he knew how much the thought of it turns her on?
“Okay,” she says, thankful she doesn’t sound too eager. She’d much rather have Bellamy’s arms around her all night than Octavia’s foot in her stomach. “But, um—what about your girlfriend?”
She knows he’s just offering because he feels responsible for her being cold. Because even if he thinks she’s a spoilt brat, he still worries about her like he would his own sister. But his girlfriend might not see it that way if she found out he spent the whole night in another girl’s tent.
“It’s perfectly innocent,” he promises. “She won’t mind.”
Clarke isn’t convinced, but she nods anyway, because she wants it too much to decline. She watches as Bellamy stands up from the chair and saunters over to her. Even the way he moves is sexy.
“Come on, princess,” Bellamy says softly. “You’re shivering. I don’t want you to freeze because of me.” He puts an arm around her and leads her back to her tent.
Clarke’s hands are trembling as she unzips the tent flap, and she doesn’t think it’s entirely from the cold. She’s never slept with somebody she has a crush on before—in the literal sense, or the sexual way. What if she snores, or says something stupid in her sleep, like confessing how much she likes him?
She ducks into the tent, immediately falling at least somewhat gracefully onto the blow-up mattress. Which Bellamy had blown up for her, of course. He steps in after her, and zips up the tent behind him, plunging them into darkness, without the moon or fire to cast a light.
Clarke’s heart is in her throat as she feels Bellamy sink to the mattress next to her.
“You mind if I take my shirt off?”
“Won’t you be cold?”
“Skin to skin contact is better for keeping warm,” he says.
Clarke swallows. “Okay,” she whispers.
Her eyes adjust a little in the dark and she can just make out his form as he pulls his shirt over his head. Her heart thuds as he lies down next to her, and she feels a twinge between her legs as the hot skin of his chest presses against her back.
“God, you’re freezing,” Bellamy says. “You should’ve said something sooner, princess.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay, I’m gonna warm you up real fast. Where’s your sleeping bag?”
“It’s not big enough for two people.”
“We can make it work.”
Clarke reaches for it where it lies heaped at the end of the mattress. Bellamy slides into it first, then has Clarke wriggle in after him. It’s a tight fit. She can feel him all over her, every inch of bare skin feels like it’s being touched by him.
His brings his hand to her shoulder, then gently rubs up and down her arm, trying to get the circulation flowing better, then, when he’s satisfied her arm is warm enough, he drops his hand to her thigh, rubbing her there, his fingers dangerously close to where she’s leaking into her pyjama shorts.
“Better?” he asks huskily.
“Uh huh,” Clarke whimpers. She doesn’t think she could manage any real words.
His hand stills, and his arm comes to rest around her waist. God, he’s so fucking big and muscular. It’s a sweet kind of torture. She’s warm now, sure. But she’s also hornier than she’s ever been. Her thoughts are racing, imagining him tugging down her little shorts and sliding his cock into her, fucking her from behind and telling her to be a good girl and keep quiet.
She squeezes her eyes shut, and her legs at the same time. Fuck, she can feel her arousal pooling between her thighs. She tries to hold still, but she can’t help squirming in his arms, and as her hips roll back against him, she thinks she feels something hard against her ass where it wasn’t before.
Blood rushes to her face. Is he hard? Is that his cock she can feel jutting into her? Surely not. It feels way too big. And he wouldn’t—there’s nothing about this situation that would turn him on, right? At least, not with her.
She wriggles back against him, trying to find out. He has no reaction to her rubbing her ass against what she thought was his cock, so she concludes that it must not be. Perhaps he has a flashlight in his pocket.
“Stop squirming,” he tells her, and Clarke goes still, her heart pounding.
“Sorry,” Clarke whispers, flushing. She feels like an idiot for even thinking she could make him hard. “It’s just there’s something—” she reaches behind her, for what she now figures is actually a flashlight, “digging into me.”
Her palm comes into contact with the foreign object, and he gives a surprised grunt. His hips jerk against her as she tries to move the hard thing away from her ass.
“Shit, Clarke,” he swears. “Fuck, stop. That’s my cock you’re playing with.”
Clarke pulls her hand away like she’s been burned. Oh god, oh god. She touched his cock. Through his pants, but still. She’s never touched a cock before.
“Sorry,” she squeaks. “I didn’t mean it, I thought it was a flashlight.”
He laughs. Deep and joyful. She can feel his breath against her neck. “A flashlight, Clarke? Why would I keep a flashlight in my pants?”
“I don’t know,” she says, feeling stupider by the second. “It was hard and I didn’t think—” she cuts herself off before she can continue to embarrass herself.
“Didn’t think what?” he presses.
“I didn’t think I could make you hard. But it’s probably not even because of me, I know that, sometimes it just happens, right? And you have a girlfriend, so—”
“Clarke,” Bellamy says, and she stops rambling. God, could this get any more humiliating? “It’s absolutely because of you,” he whispers. “Your ass pressed up against my cock in those tiny little silk shorts? And I know you’re not wearing any panties. Fuck, how could I not be hard?”
“But—but—you treat me like a little kid. You think I’m annoying and spoilt.”
“Well, I’m a little too old for you, Clarke,” he says. “I’m just trying to do what’s right. If anyone thought—if anyone knew the things I think about you. They’d think I was a pervert.”
Clarke swallows. She doesn’t think she’s breathed since she found out she was touching his cock. “But you do think them,” she says, not quite believing it.
“All the time,” he whispers. His lips brush her ear. “This is far from the first time you’ve made me hard.”
Her stomach flips over, and she squirms again. His breath catches.
“But you have a girlfriend,” she reminds him.
“She’s nothing compared to you,” Bellamy tells her. “I think about you when I fuck her. Can’t stop comparing her to you when I see her tiny little tits. She won’t even go down on me. Bet you would, wouldn’t you, princess?”
“I—I don’t know,” Clarke swallows. She would, of course she would. But it seems shameful to admit out loud.
“It’s okay,” Bellamy says. “You don’t have to say.” He says nothing for a few moments, and Clarke wonders if that’s the end of it. An admission to get her all worked up and then off to sleep, like she’ll ever be the same after hearing he thinks about her while he fucks Roma. But then—“Can I touch you?” he asks softly. Her cunt throbs. Does he mean touch her there?
“What about Roma?” Clarke asks, already feeling guilty. After all, his girlfriend is only a few tents away, unaware her boyfriend currently has his hard-on pressed against another girl’s ass.
“Like I said, she’s nothing compared to you,” Bellamy promises. “And besides, she never needs to know.”
Clarke wants to say no, she really does. She doesn’t want to be that girl. But she needs it. Needs him to touch her. Needs him to play with her cunt until she comes on his fingers.
“Okay,” she whispers.
The arm that’s been slung protectively around her waist moves, but instead of down between her legs like she expects, his hand slides up under her silky singlet top, his big, rough hand covering one of her breasts.
“Your tits feel so good, princess,” he says. He kisses her neck, once, then twice. “Just like I knew they would. Always admired your big tits. Can’t believe I’ve finally got my hands on them. Anyone ever touched them before me?”
“No,” Clarke admits. He rolls his palm over her hard nipple. Her pussy aches even more. It feels empty, desperate for something inside it to make her feel whole. He pulls his hand away, trailing his fingers lightly down her stomach, then up and down, and up and down again.
Clarke bites her lip, her stomach swirling with anticipation, her pussy clamping down on nothing. Bellamy’s hand ghosts over the top of her pyjama shorts, feather-light, barely grazing her pussy lips through the thin material. She whimpers.
“Oh, princess,” he coos, pressing his thumb against the wet patch, hard enough that it slips between her lips, and her heart stutters. She wants to spread her legs for him, but she doesn’t want him to think she’s a slut. “You’ve soaked yourself right through.”
Clarke flushes. “I’m sorry,” she says. How embarrassing.
“No, that’s a good thing, sweetheart,” he murmurs. Oh god, now he’s calling her sweetheart. Clarke feels like she might combust. “I like you all wet for me.”
“Bellamy,” Clarke whimpers. “Please.”
“What is it, princess? You need me to play with your pussy? Need my fingers to fill up your pretty little virgin cunt? You are a virgin, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Clarke says, trying not to be embarrassed about it. “How did you know?”
“I know you wouldn’t give it to somebody who doesn’t know how to treat you right,” he says. “Don’t worry, I know how.”
Oh god, is he going to take her virginity? She’s imagined it so many times, but never in a million years thought it might actually happen.
He moves his hand again, back up to the waistband of her shorts, toying with it before sliding his hand inside. His hand covers her whole cunt. She feels so tiny next to him, his hand engulfing her most intimate place. She finds herself wishing she shaved her pussy—but how could she know this would happen? But he says nothing about her hair, so Clarke figures it must be okay.
“Fuck, you’re wet. You always get this wet, princess? Or is this a special occasion?”
“It’s always like this,” Clarke says. “When I think about you.”
“Is that right?” Bellamy says, sounding smug. “Your pussy wants to make it nice and easy for me to be inside you.”
“Are you going to take my virginity?” Clarke asks nervously.
“Would you like that?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe not tonight,” Bellamy says. “Tonight, I’m just going to give you a little orgasm to help you sleep.”
“Okay.”
A finger slips between her folds and she gasps. His thumb finds her clit, and she feels likes she’s positively vibrating with excitement and nerves. He nudges her entrance with the thick tip of his finger, and Clarke spreads her legs as best she can for him. God, they shouldn’t be doing this. He has a girlfriend. A girlfriend who’s actually the same age as him. But Clarke doesn’t tell him to stop. She’s too far gone for that.
He teases her entrance, his fingertip pressed just inside of her. He strokes her clit with his thumb, then pushes his finger inside her. “That okay, princess?”
“Uh huh,” Clarke moans. It’s more than okay. It feels so good to have his finger stuffed inside of her. But being filled up isn’t enough. She needs him to finger her properly, make her come. “Please, Bellamy,” she groans. “I need to come so bad.”
“Fuck, Clarke,” he huffs. “I’ve never heard you say something so dirty. Drives me crazy.”
“Finger me,” she begs. “Please, finger me.”
He obliges, thrusting his finger inside her as she rocks her hips against him, grinding down on his hand. He works his thumb on her clit at the same time, and then she’s hurtling towards orgasm, panting and whining desperately.
“You’re a naughty little princess, aren’t you?” Bellamy says. “So desperate for it. Horny little thing.”
“Mmhmm,” Clarke whimpers. She’s so close. His finger hits something deep inside her, taking her by surprise, and then her body is spasming, and she can’t stop the cry that leaves her mouth as she comes on his hand.
“Good girl, good girl,” Bellamy says. “Fuck, I love the way you sound when you come. You feeling better now?”
Clarke nods, still too caught up in the aftershocks of her orgasm to be able to speak. She’s certainly warmer, that’s for sure.
“Okay,” Bellamy whispers. “Time to sleep now.”
-
She wakes up in his arms, his cock still pressed against her. Has he been hard all night? Should she have offered to return the favour?
It’s barely light outside, and Clarke figures nobody else will be awake yet. She can just enjoy the warm comfort of his arms, and pretend for a little while longer that she’s his girlfriend, not Roma. She knows it’s a silly little fantasy. Even if he’s admitted to being attracted to her, he’d never do anything to jeopardise his reputation—and dating a girl who’s still in high school, would, like he said, make him look like a pervert.
It isn’t long until he wakes beside her, letting her know by pressing a kiss against her earlobe. Clarke smiles to herself. She’d like to wake up like that every morning.
“Did you sleep well, princess?” Bellamy murmurs.
“Yes,” Clarke says. “Did you?”
“Not really,” he admits. “Too horny to sleep. And when I finally did sleep, I just dreamt about you.”
Clarke flushes. She only she wishes she could be as open about her desires as he is. She’d like to articulate now how much she wants him to fuck her this very moment. Her shorts and thighs are still all wet and gooey from last night, and while it’s not comfortable, she likes the reminder of what he did to her.
“Can I help with that?” Clarke asks, trying to sound cool and seductive, but she’s not sure she pulls it off. There’s a shake in her voice that she’s sure gives her away.
His fingers stroke her stomach lightly. She wishes she could see his face. But perhaps it’s better this way. She’s not sure she could have managed even those words if she had to look him in the eye while she said them.
“I probably shouldn’t fuck you,” he muses, more like he’s talking to himself than to her. “The others will start waking up soon. Don’t want them to hear you.”
“I can be quiet,” Clarke says quickly. “Wasn’t I quiet last night?”
Bellamy chuckles. “Not even close.”
“But I can be. Please,” she begs. She wriggles around so she’s facing him, tits pressed against his chest now. She bites her lip, gives him her best pleading eyes. “Please fuck me,” she says hoarsely. “I don’t want anyone to take my virginity but you, and if you don’t do it now, there might not be another chance.”
“If you insist,” he says, caving much more easily than she thought he would. He captures her mouth roughly with his own, taking her by surprise. He’s greedy with her, the kiss messy, much less restrained than Clarke imagined it would be.
It’s not her first kiss by far, but it’s the first time she’s ever been kissed like this. Like he actually wants her and not just whatever girl will have him, the way it has been with the boys from school she’s kissed, and that one girl who wanted to “experiment” with her.
He pulls his hand out of the sleeping bag and unzips it, then flips her over onto her back so he’s on top of her, still kissing her. It’s all so fast, she barely notices it happening. He pulls away, and Clarke looks up at him, panting.
“I want to see you,” he tells her. “Want to see you all naked for me. Want you to show me those pretty tits, and your wet little pussy.”
Clarke nods, already wriggling out of her silk pyjama top. Surprisingly, she doesn’t really feel nervous. She’s wanted him for so long, and she’s sure he’s going to take care of her. She discards her top, flushing when she sees him staring at her tits like they’re the most magnificent things he’s ever seen.
She moves her hands to her shorts and his gaze drops, following her movements closely as she pulls her shorts down, baring her cunt to him.
“Look at you,” he breathes. “Perfect.” He kisses her again, slower this time, drawing it out, teasing her tongue with his own.
His hand finds its way between her legs, and she opens for him as he presses his fingers against her clit. She whines into his mouth, and he deepens the kiss before pulling his mouth away, leaving her to chase him. She falls back against her pillow when her lips don’t find his, and she opens her eyes again. He grins at her, circling her clit. Her pussy throbs, aching for something inside it.
“Please, Bellamy,” she whispers. She can be quiet, she knows she can.
“You want my cock?” he asks. Clarke nods. He pulls his fingers away from her clit, then pulls at his sweatpants, dragging them down past his ass, and Clarke eyes the bulge in his boxers. She swallows, hard.
Her heart is pounding as he lowers his boxers, revealing his cock to her. It’s big. It’s big, and hard, and brown, and veiny. And she thinks she can even make out some freckles dotted over it. That thing is going to go inside her. The thought of it sends a fresh surge of arousal rushing from her cunt.
“You ready, princess?” Bellamy asks. Clarke nods eagerly. Fuck yes, she’s ready. She lifts her hips to show him just how ready she is.
Bellamy lifts her knees, spreads her legs apart wider, then slides a hand underneath her gently as he lowers himself on top of her. She can feel his cock bump against her thigh, and then he’s sliding it against her folds, so close to where she’s hot and aching for him.
“Bellamy, please,” she begs him. “Fuck me, please fuck me.”
“I’m going to, sweetheart, just be patient.” She feels him press against her entrance, and she writhes against him, trying to get him inside her. “God, you’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he says wondrously. “Cock hungry little princess. Always get what you want, don’t you?”
Clarke nods. “Please.” He pushes into her, and Clarke is vaguely aware of her own voice crying out as he stretches her walls open. “Fuck,” she gasps. He pushes further into her. “Fuck, fuck. Oh my god, Bellamy.”
“You okay?”
“Yes. Feels so good. Oh my god. More please. More.”
“More?” Bellamy chuckles. “Baby, you’re already full to the brim. I’d break you in half if I had any more to give you.”
She knows he’s probably right, and yet even with him filling her up so perfectly, it’s not enough.
“Fuck me,” she whines. “Fuck me, please. Hard.”
Bellamy groans, and he thrusts his hips against her, his cock pulsing inside her, hitting her g-spot. She moans. And then he’s letting go of his restraint, hammering into her with abandon. Her tits bounce, and the sounds of skin on skin, and her increasingly high-pitched moans fill the tent, along with Bellamy’s low grunts.
It hurts, a little bit, but her desire, the overwhelming pleasure of his cock inside her overpowers the slight pain, and all she can think about is her fast building orgasm. She’s almost there, and she wants to tell him how good it feels, that he’s about to make her come, but her mouth can’t form any coherent words other than his name and oh god, yes. Hopefully that gets the message across.
“Clarke, fuck,” Bellamy groans. “You’re so fucking tight. I’m gonna come in you.”
“Yes,” Clarke groans. “Come in me. Come in my pussy.”
He gasps, shuddering as he hits his breaking point, and Clarke can feel him spurt into her, coating her walls with his come. Her cunt squeezes around him, and then she’s coming too, her back arching, her desperate moans becoming louder as her orgasm reaches every part of her body.
He collapses on top of her, as she’s still coming down from her high. A second later, the tent flap is being unzipped. Clarke looks to Bellamy, his look of panic mirroring how she feels. He hastily pulls his pants up, and Clarke barely has time to cover herself with her sleeping bag before Roma is poking her head in.
“You fucking asshole,” Roma spits. “You complete asshole. I fucking trusted you. You think I didn’t know you were lusting after this fucking teenager? And you fucking fucked her anyway.”
“Roma, come on,” Bellamy says. “I was just keeping her warm, we didn’t—”
“Save it,” she snaps. “Everybody heard you, asshole. You’re not only as asshole, you’re a dumb asshole.”
Clarke swallows, trying to hold her tears at bay. Everybody heard? Fuck. All his friends, his girlfriend, Octavia… they all heard him take her virginity. All heard her beg for him to come inside her. All heard her orgasm.
“Roma, I’m sorry,” Bellamy tries.
“Fuck you. Bree’s taking me home. Have a nice life, asshole.”
Roma disappears, and Clarke can’t hold her tears back any longer. God, this is so humiliating. She was hoping no one would ever find out, and now she’s not only broken up Bellamy’s relationship, she’s made a total fool of herself as well.
“Clarke, I’m so sorry,” Bellamy says, immediately moving to comfort her. He wraps his arms around her, and Clarke sobs into his shoulder.
“They’re all going to think I’m a slut.”
“They won’t think that,” Bellamy assures her. “Come on, how about you get dressed and we make you some breakfast.”
“I can’t go out there.”
“I’m sure Roma was exaggerating. In any case, I’ll be right there with you if anyone tries to say anything, okay?”
Clarke swallows, nodding as she pulls away from him. Bellamy grabs her pyjama top and hands it to her, and she slips it over her head, then pulls her bottoms back on. She can already feel his come leaking out of her.
Bellamy gets out of the tent first, and Clarke hears the rest of the camp burst into a round of applause.
“Yeah, yeah,” she hears Bellamy say. “Now shut the fuck up, all of you. If any of you make Clarke feel uncomfortable, I’ll end you. Got it?”
There are some murmurs of assent, and Bellamy ducks his head back into the tent. “You ready, princess?”
Clarke nods, though she doesn’t feel ready at all, and she takes Bellamy’s outstretched hand, and he guides her out of the tent. She’s met with another round of applause, and a wolf whistle from Murphy.
“You go, girl,” Roan hoots. Clarke squirms in embarrassment, tucking herself into Bellamy’s side as he throws his arm around her. She looks up at him, and he actually looks—proud? Not guilty, or ashamed, or even upset about Roma.
“Where’s Octavia?” Bellamy asks.
“She went for an early morning walk,” Miller says. “She missed all the action,” he snorts.
“Thank fuck,” Bellamy breathes. Clarke relaxes a little too. Bellamy’s friends seem to think she’s cool, and Octavia is none the wiser.
“Breakfast?” Bellamy asks her. Clarke nods. He kisses the top of her head. “But, uh, you might want to put some real clothes on first,” he whispers. “You’re positively indecent, and I don’t want any of these idiots getting any ideas. Plus you’ve got a nice little wet patch on your shorts.”
Clarke flushes, glancing down, then quickly covering said wet patch with her hand. “Oh my god,” she groans. “Could this get any more embarrassing?”
Bellamy chuckles. “Don’t worry,” he says. “They’ll forget in like an hour. Now quick, get changed before Octavia gets back, because she might not be so forgiving.”
Clarke nods, skipping off to the car where her bag is, smiling to herself. Suddenly, this camping trip is looking a whole lot better.