Chapter Text
When Clarke Griffin walked in on her boyfriend of nearly a year kissing another woman, she never would have expected to get anything other than a nice serving of heartbreak out of it.
Oh, how wrong she was.
*
"Hey, Finn? You there?" Clarke called, softly opening the door, setting her keys down on the side table and shrugging her jacket off of her shoulders. It had been a long shift at the hospital, and to be quite honest the only thing she wanted was to be curled up in front of the television with her boyfriend and a giant glass of wine.
She wandered further into Finn's apartment, passed the dark door of the bedroom and towards the living room, where she could see the faint glow of candles and hear the low hum of her favourite album.
Figuring Finn had simply fallen asleep waiting up on her, Clarke quietened her footsteps - if a little downhearted. It had seemed recently that all Finn had time for was his work, always ducking out of mealtimes to take calls and staying late at the office. Clarke had never considered Environmental Managers to be particularly busy people, but judging by the patronising "I've got a big project coming up, Princess," that Finn had tossed over his shoulder that morning as he left for work, she was wrong.
'Heaven forbid he asks how my day went,' she thought bitterly. 'It's not like I save lives on the daily or anything.'
'Woah, Clarke,' she told herself. 'What you have with Finn is great. He's supportive - for the most part - and caring, and mom approves, and he's... completely boring. Fuck.'
She shook herself. 'No, Clarke, come on. He's steady, and dependable, so who cares if sometimes at dinner he makes you want to stab your eyes out with a fork? What you have is too good to risk.'
"Finn?" She called again, raising her voice slightly. She didn't want to wake him, but she'd rather he was grumpy from being woken up than the apartment was burned down because neither of them thought to blow out the candles he had lit.
She reached the living room door and shouldered the door open, looking down to examine her worn-out scrubs for any wayward stains. As such, she nearly walked right into the spectacle before her.
Finn had his back to her, sitting on the couch with a girl straddling him. A pretty girl. The two were kissing furiously, the girl's dark hair falling over her face and obscuring her features. Finn, from what she could tell, had his hands resting heavily on the stranger's hips, grinding her down into him and grunting out encouragements.
"Fuck, so good, babe," he groaned, and Clarke choked back a gasp of shock.
"Finn?" she gasped, and the dark-haired girl's head shot up from where it had been buried in Finn's neck.
" What the actual fuck," she stated flatly, and Clarke surveyed her with dismay. She really was ridiculously pretty; long, silky hair and huge doe-eyes with unfairly long eyelashes. Even the oil stains streaked up her arms seemed to compliment her olive skin.
"Finn," the girl continued, eerily calm. "Fucking explain what's going on."
She swung her leg over Finn and sat back down on the couch, bouncing slightly on the fabric from the force she'd used to throw herself off of him.
Finn scrambled backwards further into the couch cushions, Clarke taking this as a chance to move to join the other two on the sofa. She hesitated over where to sit, because honestly, neither next to Finn or the strange girl seemed especially appealing; but eventually, she rationalised that next to the girl was more sensible, if only that they were united in their betrayal by Finn.
"Who the fuck are you?" the girl asked, her brown eyes boring into Clarke's skull.
"Um, I'm Finn's girlfriend?" Clarke stuttered, hating the way it came out like a question. "My name's Clarke."
"Well, Clarke," the stranger spat. "I'm afraid you've got that wrong. I'm Finn's girlfriend; we've been together for four years."
"Fuck." Clarke sat back, feeling like she had been punched. Finn, who had been silent up until this point, chose to break the quiet.
"I can explain."
"Oh, can you?" Clarke bit out. She felt like a monumental idiot - how had she missed the signs? The late nights, the four hour long phone calls, and the weekend long business trips, they had all pointed to one blindingly obvious solution.
"I can, I swear!" Finn turned beseeching eyes on her. "When you and I met, Raven was in Israel - she had a scholarship for Aerospace Engineering at a university there. They're ranked in the top five countries of the world for space science, she had to go. When she left, we didn't break up or agree to stick together, and when ten months of the two year programme had passed without contact I just assumed..."
"Assumed that you were free to chase after anything with a skirt?"
The girl - Raven, Clarke supposed - shot up off of the sofa in fury, wobbling slightly.
"You thought it was perfectly acceptable to throw away four years after ten months? I was busy having a life and enjoying the programme - like you'd know if you actually read my emails! And you didn't mention any of this when I came back, either - tell me, Finn, how long have you been stringing me along for?"
"Us both along for?" Clarke cut in. "You didn't see fit to mention an ex-girlfriend of four years at any time? I told you about Lexa!"
"I wasn't his ex!" Raven cried. "I thought we were together, Finn. I thought we were it."
"Raven, we are," Finn implored, half-raising up off the sofa and gripping Raven's hand in two of his own. "I've loved you for so long, but you weren't here and I didn't know if you ever would be again."
"So you didn't love me," Raven said, sitting back down on the sofa heavily and reaching behind her neck to unclasp the necklace she wore; a small metal bird. "Not enough to trust me to come back. Not in the way that I'm in love with you. Not in the way that I want to be loved. You can take the necklace back, Finn. I don't need it. We're done."
"Raven, please, I love yo-"
"Obviously not, seeing as you were able to forget about me easily enough with Clarke! Did you even mention me once? Even just as a friend?"
"No," Clarke interrupted, her voice small. "He didn't. I wouldn't have got involved, if I'd known - that's not who I am-"
"Do you love him?" Raven cut her off. Her eyes were wide, though she didn't look near tears, but the cold fury in her eyes made Clarke shrink back.
"I... I'm not- I- yeah." Clarke floundered helplessly. "What did you expect me to say?" she continued, when Raven angrily swiped her hand over her eyes. Maybe she was closer to a breakdown than Clarke had thought.
"I don't know," Raven sighed, suddenly seeming exhausted, with her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I really don't know."
"Clarke," Finn said, and she turned to him in surprise. She had honestly nearly forgotten he was even there, Raven's distress distracting her.
"Clarke, please let me explain this properly. I'm in love with you, I want to be with-"
"You made me the other woman, Finn, and you know I can't stand cheaters, not after what Lexa did. I can't be with you, I'm sorry. We're over."
Clarke felt a weight be lifted off her shoulders as she spoke. It was probably wrong to be so relieved that her relationship was ending, especially due to it happening in such an abruptly unpleasant way, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
She was upset, of course; being cheated on - or being the cheater's partner, she supposed - didn't get any easier the second time around, and she was left with a horrible pit of inadequacy and guilt sitting heavy in her stomach.
What was it about her that hadn't been good enough, that had made Finn still go running back to Raven? Was it nothing to do with her, and just Finn thinking with his dick instead of his brain? Or maybe he was acting out of a misguided sense of loyalty to Raven - four years was a ridiculously long time for a young couple to still be together, after all.
Clarke was jolted out of her thoughts by Raven clambering up off of the sofa, her anger making her movements clumsy. She scrambled up too, awkwardly stretching out a cautious arm in Raven's direction, to support her if she wanted it. The other girl ignored her hand coldly, and picked up the scuffed leather jacket that rested on the arm of the sofa, shrugging it on.
"See you around, Finn. Or not," she scoffed, glaring down at Finn. "I thought better of you, to be honest. God knows you're not good enough in bed to warrant girls falling over you."
Finn spluttered, incensed, and Clarke fought back a tiny grin. 'It's kind of true, to be honest,' she thought to herself. 'Definitely been with better.'
With her cut to Finn's masculinity successfully delivered, Raven tossed her hair back and abruptly left the room. Clarke stumbled after her, feeling a little bit like an adoring fan following their favourite celebrity; she was in awe of Raven's swift dismissal of Finn.
Clarke cast one look back at Finn before dashing out of the door of the apartment. He was still slumped, shell-shocked, on the sofa. She couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for him one bit. He had reduced both her and Raven to jokes, each blissfully unaware of the fact that there had technically been three people in their relationship, and her opinion he deserved to deal with the consequences, even if it hurt her in the process.
"Raven, hey!" She called, running to catch up with the other girl, who was nearing the elevators at the far end of the corridor. "Wait up, please!"
Raven slowed, halting her progress. She turned to face Clarke, and she noticed the unshed tears glimmering in Raven's eyes. It struck her, suddenly, how awful this must have been for the other girl; giving up a relationship that she thought would last forever.
"What, Clarke?"
"Listen," Clarke said, bending down to rest her hands on her knees and breathing slightly heavily. "I want to fix this - between us, I mean. We didn't do anything wrong, why should we hate each other when Finn's the two-timing dickhead?"
Raven shrugged, and reached forward to press the elevator call button in a clear sign of dismissal.
"Look," Clarke tried again. "There's this really good bar in town, Grounders - they do a killer margarita. Meet me there on Saturday? At nine? I'd really like to talk this out."
Raven shrugged again non-committally. "I'll see what I can do. I'll... find you on facebook or something, I don't know."
"Just get back to me, please," Clarke said, and watched as the elevator doors slid open and Raven stepped inside.
Before she pressed the button for the first floor, Raven seemed to battle with herself for a few seconds, a maelstrom of emotions whirling across her features. She shook herself, reached out to quickly jab the 'doors open' button, and grinned suddenly, the smile breaking across her face like the sunrise after a storm.
"You know what?" she said. "Fuck it, I'll be there. You're right, we girls have to stick together."
Clarke grinned in reply, waving a hand in goodbye before turning away to take the stairs.
"And Clarke?" Raven called, just as the elevator doors began to close, having lifted her hand from the button.
"Yeah?" she replied, half-turning around so that she could see Raven, the sliding metal doors nearly obscuring her from view.
"First round's on you."
*
Saturday arrives quickly, and Clarke, who has the weekend off, can't be more thankful. She's participated in several surgeries this past week, each more emotionally draining than the last, and the relief of freedom is the best thing to happen to her in a while - what with discovering that her boyfriend made her the other woman, and all.
Speaking of other women, she knows she's due to meet Raven at Grounders tonight, and sighs, hearing it reverberate around the echoing confines of her empty apartment. It's strange, seeing the rooms without the subtle reminders of Finn's presence dotted around.
'What was I thinking?' She wonders, shaking her head at herself. 'There are bad ideas, and then there's asking your ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend for drinks, Clarke, for God's sake.'
Clarke idly stretches her arm to check the heavy watch strapped to her wrist, thankful to see that she still has two hours before she even needs to think about getting ready. She yawns, contemplating texting Octavia to check if Bellamy's working at Grounders tonight - if things go south with Raven, she'll be glad for even a slight buffer, although things are admittedly still tense between Bellamy and her, after the Great Lasagne Incident of three months ago.
Clarke Griffin
Sent at 17:34
hey O, is Bellamy working at Grounders tonight?
She doesn't expect to have to wait long for an answer, Octavia is a notoriously quick replier. Sure enough, her phone chimes not even two minutes later.
Octavia BAE <3
Sent at 17:35
yeah why? got a hot date?? ;)
Clarke chuckles to herself, rolling her eyes. Octavia hadn't even pretended to be upset when Finn and Clarke had broken up, barging her way into Clarke' apartment the very same night with a, "I'm not going to pretend that I didn't see this coming, Clarke, but because I'm literally the best friend in the entire world, I brought ice cream and like three different Reese Witherspoon films - you can cry if you want, I won't judge."
Clarke Griffin
Sent at 17:37
in a manner of speaking. i'm meeting Raven at Grounders :/
and if u change your contact name in my phone one more time i s2g
Octavia BAE <3
Sent at 17:37
u love me :DDDD
and wow??? i didnt expect that... ur idea?
Clarke Griffin
Sent at 17:45
sorry phone didn't go. but yeah - bad choice?
Octavia BAE <3
Sent at 17:46
no worries :) and i dont think so, not necessarily. it might be good for u both idk idk
Clarke Griffin
Sent at 17:46
helpful.
Octavia BAE <3
Sent at 17:47
sorry!! cant rly say it's a position ive been in before tho. and watch the sarcasm missy it's not attractive in a lady
Clarke Griffin
Sent at 17:47
YOU'RE NOT ATTRACTIVE IN A LADY
Octavia BAE <3
Sent at 17:48
wow. mature.
this is when i wish i had a middle finger emoji
Clarke Griffin
Sent at 17:50
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
but back to the matter at hand. it's not a stupid idea is it?
I AM HAVING SEVERE DOUBTS Finn went behind her back w/ me i'm going to die tonight
Octavia BAE <3
Sent at 17:51
hold ur horses clarke - that's what bell's there for he can help fight her off
Clarke Griffin
Sent at 17:51
not v reassuring Octavia, Bellamy isn't exactly my bff
Octavia BAE <3
Sent at 17:52
no bc that's me
srsly tho clarke u'll be fine. anyway lincoln's coming over rn so... see ya ;)
good luck! love u!!! xxx
Clarke Griffin
Sent at 17:53
make good choices!
and if i die it's your fault
love you too xx
Clarke sighs, locking her phone and putting it back on to charge. She has time to kill, and sitting around re-reading Octavia's texts seems like the worst kind of torture. Clarke knows that Octavia didn't mean to come off as flippant or uncaring, but her friend is so wrapped up in Lincoln that it sometimes appears that way.
Clarke wants that, is the thing, wants a solidly reassuring relationship, and after the Finn situation, she doesn't know if it's something she'll ever have. She's working in an extremely small pool, after all, with half of her friends either dating each other or too close of a friend to even consider.
She doesn't get out much, either, the busy schedule of her residency limiting her social life to Saturday night drinks at Grounders and week day sleepovers at Octavia's.
Clarke shakes her head at herself, getting up from the couch and moving to turn off the television. 'Maybe a nap will help? Relaxing, and all that,' she thinks, picking up her phone to set a few cautionary exams before grabbing a nearby blanket and lying back down. She squeezes her eyes shut and stubbornly gets comfortable, willing sleep to overtake her.
*
Clarke's woken two hours later by her alarm, blaring loudly.
"Fuck," she hisses, rubbing her eyes even though she knows it'll smudge her mascara irreparably. She has about an hour and a half before she needs to leave, and she knows she needs to shower, her hair in ridiculous tangles.
Getting ready doesn't take as long as she had thought, managing to shower and have her make-up done and her hair dried fairly quickly. It's what to wear that she struggles with. Normally she'll just chuck on a vaguely skin-tight dress and go, or rope Octavia in to help her, but since the other girl is otherwise occupied, texts will have to do.
Clarke Griffin
Sent at 20:14
What outfit strikes the right balance between "please don't murder me," "I'm not trying to make it look like Finn only went for one thing," and "I'm hot, you're also hot, I would not be opposed to doing hot things w/ you later" ????
Knowing she isn't especially likely to get a reply, but still feeling better for having asked, Clarke shuts her eyes, reaches into her closet and grabs the first dress she feels. She tugs it over her head with her eyes still closed, hoping it doesn't fuck up her hair too badly.
Opening her eyes and surveying her reflection, Clarke grins. She looks good. Her dress is short, dark, and tight; dressy enough for Grounders but not absurdly so.
She's ready with about fifteen minutes to spare, aimlessly draining her phone battery by scrolling through twitter to kill time. Once it gets to time to leave, she slides her phone inside her bag, slides her shoes on - comfortable boots, risking a twisted ankle during the walk to Grounders is not worth it - and leaves her apartment, locking the door.
Clarke's greeted at Grounder's by Bellamy, who's standing behind the bar idly polishing glasses and looking surly.
"Griffin," he grunts, nodding his head.
"Fuck off, Bellamy," she says cheerily, hopping up on the nearest barstool. He stifles a snort at her struggle, and she curses her height for the hundredth time. "I think we're a little bit past surnames - we had that lovely dinner a couple months ago, remember? And can I get a vodka and coke, please and thank you."
"Coming right up - and if you mean the dinner where you insulted my morals several times and then dropped a lasagne on my carpet then-" he starts, leaning forward into her space, before seemingly realising that she's fucking with him and falling back. "Clever. You here for a reason, or just taking up space in my bar?"
"Okay," Clarke replies indignantly, accepting the drink he hands her and downing it in an attempt to kill the nervous butterflies currently at home in her stomach. "First of all, not your bar; it's Miller's dad's as you very well know. Secondly, yeah I am here for a reason, and God knows it's not for the pleasure of your company. Meeting Raven for drinks."
Bellamy sucks a sharp gasp of air in between his teeth, raising his eyebrows and looking past Clarke to the door.
"Any chance she's the brunette who looks like she could kill me with her finger walking this way?"
"Shit," Clarke curses. "She's early."
"You're early, Clarke," Bellamy replies, and slowly begins to back away. "I'm just going to..."
"Traitor!" she calls after his retreating form, laughing despite herself.
She cuts her laugh off almost comically quickly when Raven slumps on the barstool next to her, the harsh clunk of her boots hitting the metal of the stool making Clarke wince.
Raven signals for the bartender before she looks over at Clarke, and out of the corner of her eye Clarke can see Bellamy reluctantly make his way back over.
"What can I get you tonight, ladies?" He asks, and Clarke can see him rake his eyes over Raven.
'Don't be a dick, oh God,' she tries to signal with her eyes, but she's not entirely sure it was successful, given how Raven's knuckles whiten with how hard she's clenching her fists.
"Vodka coke," Raven grits out, and Clarke nods for the same.
"Coming right up," Bellamy grins, and Clarke feels the inane urge to defend him.
"He's not usually like this," she tries, and Raven snorts.
"Come here often, then?" She asks, derision clear in her voice.
Clarke fidgets nervously, drumming her fingers on the wooden bar. "No, my best friend is his little sister. I've known him a long time."
Raven tosses her head, the weight of her hair working as a pendulum to swing the wavy mass behind her back.
"I'm sure," she sneers. "I expect you've stolen your fair share of his girlfriends too."
Clarke recoils. "I'm sorry, what the fuck?"
Raven glares, her brown eyes fiery. "You heard me."
"Jesus Christ," Clarke sighs. "Wires have been crossed, clearly. I asked to meet you so I could reiterate the fact that I had no fucking idea who you were until about four days ago. I don't make a practice of ruining relationships, thanks."
She looks angry, she knows she does. Clarke always flushes bright red when she gets mad, and being accused of being a home wrecker sends rage boiling through her veins.
Raven just stares, not backing down. Clarke feels as though she could cut the tension between them with a knife, and she's just about to grab her bag and call the night quits before it's even really started when Bellamy interrupts the silence.
"Two vodka and cokes," he declares, sliding the glasses along the bar-top. He's decorated the drinks with curly straws, each glass with a paper umbrella precariously hanging onto the rim, and Clarke chokes back a laugh that has the capability to turn into a sob very quickly.
"Shit, Clarke, you alright?" Bellamy asks, and she nods vigorously.
"I'm fine, totally fine. Thanks for the drinks, Bellamy."
"Just doing my job," he replies, and backs away from the conversation, heading towards a bachelorette party all outfitted in matching pink sashes.
Clarke grabs her glass and yanks the umbrella out, downing half the drink in three mouthfuls. She swallows harshly, feeling the burn of the alcohol working its way down her throat, and drags her arm across her mouth, probably smudging her lipstick but not caring.
She slams the glass back down on the counter, wincing internally at the loud smack it makes, and stares ahead at the row of bottles behind the bar, sitting in the silence unwilling to be the first to break the quiet.
"I'm sorry," Raven mumbles, quick and quiet. Clarke turns to the other girl and tilts her head.
"What for?"
Clarke doesn't mean for it to come out sounding so cruel. She slides her eyes to meet Raven's, and is surprised to see that the other girl actually looks ashamed.
"Calling you a homewrecker," Raven says, darting her eyes to the ground and then back up to Clarke's, brown against blue. "Blaming you and not Finn. Being a horrible feminist. You can take your pick, to be honest."
"Well then," Clarke says, "I forgive you."
"Really?" Raven asks, hands twisting into the fabric of her top - a studded, ripped, and generally 'way too cool for Clarke' tour shirt from a band Clarke's never even heard of.
"Of course," Clarke says, widening her eyes and hoping her sincerity doesn't look faked. "You've said you're sorry, if I didn't accept your apology I'd be the shitty one."
Raven grins, happiness stretched across her face. "I guess you kind of did me a favour on the Finn front; that wasn't really going anywhere, was it?"
Clarke raises an eyebrow in curiosity, and Raven takes a sip of her drink before leaning in close to her. "Well, on top of the whole cheating thing, he really wasn't hot shit."
Clarke gasps out a laugh, her hand clamped over her mouth. "He wasn't, was he? I swear to God he spent half of our relationship patronising me."
"And the weird obsession with his hair?" Raven asks. "Did you have to deal with that too?"
"Yeah, oh my God!" Clarke snorts, grabbing her glass and draining it before signalling Bellamy over for another drink. "He had more hair products that I do!"
"It's a shame there's no relation between having good hair and being good in bed," Raven says, jokingly morose.
Or at least Clarke thinks she's joking.
"You didn't think his hair was good, did you?" She asks, and she's sure she looks as horrified as she sounds.
Raven bursts out laughing, leaning even closer into Clarke so that their foreheads nearly brush and the blonde and brunette strands of their hair tangle together.
They're jolted out of their little bubble by Bellamy, who's standing behind the bar looking both pissed and vaguely amused.
"We done?" He asks, and Clarke makes an attempt to dampen her giggles.
"Sorry sorry," she hiccups. "Can I get another..."
She trails off, surveying the shelves. "Fuck that, can we do shots?"
"Language," Bellamy replies, mock-stern. "But is that a good idea? How many have you had, Clarke, jeez."
"Only two!" She protests. "But I may have forgotten to eat today..."
"Nope," he shakes his head. "I'm cutting you off - I know what your tolerance is like when you're starving and I am not carting your drunk ass home."
"God , Bellamy, you're such a dad," Clarke whines in reply, and squeaks in indignation when he ruffles her hair after passing Raven another drink.
"Okay, that's not fair."
"Ah, but Clarke, I can actually hold my alcohol," Raven grins, and if all Clarke can think in reply is how Raven's eyes honest-to-God sparkle when she laughs, then that's her business.
*
About two hours later, they've moved to a closeted booth and are slumped even closer together, Clarke practically on Raven's lap with Raven's head resting on her shoulder. They've been talking for ages, and Clarke now knows so much about the other girl that it would be easy for her to convince herself that they had been friends for years, but only if she could make herself ignore the low simmer of attraction that burns in her stomach whenever she looks at Raven. She doesn't think she'd be crazy to think that the other girl might share those feelings, if the way that Raven's gaze lingers on Clarke's mouth is anything to go by. Still, she doesn't even know if Raven likes girls.
"Yeah, so I'm bisexual," Clarke mumbles. "And I'm not ashamed, okay? I'm proud of who I am, and as a rule I've had better relationships with girls. But Finn used to make me feel really shitty? Like he'd always ask about threesomes and then play it off as a joke and eventually I just didn't have the fucking energy to fight him."
"You're forgetting that Finn is the ultimate dick," Raven replies, her hot breath brushing Clarke's face and making her shiver. "He used to ask me too."
Clarke sits up abruptly, her heart giving a traitorous leap of joy. 'You've both just broken up with the same guy, Clarke, this can't be healthy,' she tells herself. 'Come on.'
"You're bi too?" She asks. She doesn't care if it makes her seem like a parrot, she has to know.
"Yeah," Raven shrugs like it's nothing. "In theory, anyways. I've really only ever been with Finn and like one other guy. And I know it's been a bit of a running theme, but I really don't think that Finn's good enough in bed to satisfy one woman, let alone two."
"Probably wouldn't do any work, though," Clarke says viciously, ignoring the flip in her stomach when Raven dissolves into giggles, grabbing Clarke's bicep and digging her nails in.
"He make you do everything yourself, too?" the dark-haired girl asks, and Clarke's mind immediately goes straight to the gutter.
"I mean," she starts, and swallows. Clarke reaches over to the glass of coke on the table and takes a swig, hoping it'll at least cool her down. "It was DIY or fake it most of the time, to be honest."
Raven nods in reply, rubbing her hands across her thigh slowly, and Clarke's eyes follow the movement, before chasing them to where Raven's picked up the same glass of coke and watching her throat move as she swallows.
"I'll tell you a secret," Clarke whispers impulsively, leaning right into Raven and nosing up behind her ear.
Raven gulps, hard, and Clarke can feel it. She has to squeeze her thighs together beneath the table in an attempt for friction.
"With girls," she ghosts out, and Raven's breath hitches. "You never have to fake it."
"Is that a proven fact?" Raven asks, and her voice is shaky. Clarke has to fight away a sudden smirk, nudging in just that bit closer to Raven and idly planting kisses just behind her earlobe.
"Are you asking me to prove it?" Clarke replies, and moves her left hand from the table to gently stroke down Raven's thigh, following the pattern she herself made.
"What if I am?" Raven counters, and now Clarke's sporting a fully-fledged grin.
"If you were," she whispers, walking her fingers up Raven's thigh slowly. "I'd suggest we leave now, before something very inappropriate happens."
"Well then," Raven says, and when Clarke looks up to face her, their grins match. "My place or yours?"
*
"I've never…" Raven gasps. "Never done this with a girl befo-"
"I know," Clarke replies, before sucking wet bruises into the tan skin of Raven's neck. "I'll talk you through it. We'll have a blast, I promise."
Raven moans shakily in response, and Clarke skates the hand that's not pressed between Raven's back and the wall of her apartment up the side of her body, cupping a breast gently in her hand and worrying Raven's nipple through the fabric of her bra and shirt.
The dark-haired girl ghosts out a breath, biting down on her swollen bottom lip. Clarke pulls back briefly to survey her, grinning delightedly at the picture Raven makes; her hair a tangled mess and her chest heaving.
"You okay?" She asks, and extracts her hand from behind Raven so that she can undo the buttons on her blouse and shrug it off.
"More than," Raven replies, smiling almost sweetly. "But reciprocation is key, isn't it?"
Clarke barely has time to take a breath before Raven is flipping them around, pressing Clarke up against the wall and whipping her own t-shirt over her head.
Clarke's momentarily taken aback - it's almost unfair how beautiful Raven is, her brown eyes sparkling and a self-satisfied smirk plastered across her face.
"Much better," Raven continues, dragging the tip of her index finger down Clarke's chest between the valley of her breasts, finger lightly skimming over her pale pink bra. Clarke exhales noisily, and the pointed scrape of Raven's red-painted fingernail is suddenly sharper, making her gasp in shock as arousal pools deep in her stomach.
"I tho- I thought you were new to this," Clarke stutters, her fingers scrabbling desperately at Raven's shoulders.
"What can I say?" Raven jokes cockily. "I'm a fast learner."
After that, it's all lips and teeth and tongue, heavy breathing as Clarke and Raven wrestle their way out of tight and jeans and laced-up shoes; leaving them in just their underwear - Clarke's pink and lacy, Raven's a black set that screams functionality but doesn't do anything to dampen Clarke's desire.
They stumble through into Clarke's living room, jostling tables and tripping over scattered shoes as they go, before collapsing into a heap of hair and giggles on the couch.
Raven's on top of Clarke, grinding her thigh in between the shorter girl's legs with each rotation of her hips. A whimper escapes Clarke's throat and Raven grins wickedly, abruptly gripping Clarke's wrists and keeping her hands in place above her head.
"You like that?" She breathes, and Clarke can feel herself getting wetter.
"Fuck, Raven, please," she gasps. "Oh god, how are you so good at this-"
"Practice?" Raven says. "It's not like I'm working with foreign anatomy here."
The thought of Raven touching herself, working her fingers over her clit late at night under the covers, has Clarke gasping and perilously close to begging. She can barely see she's so turned on.
Fuck, Raven hasn't even touched her yet, not properly, and she's so wet she's practically soaked through her panties.
"Raven," Clarke grits out. "I swear to God if you don't do something right the second I'll…" She trails off, hopefully threateningly.
"You'll what?" Raven smirks, leaning closer to Clarke so that her silky hair brushes Clarke's chest, making her nipples pebble beneath her bra. "Make me?"
She accompanies this with a lascivious twist of her hips, and Clarke arches her back into the sensation. She regretfully - because the picture of a writhing Raven Reyes above her is not a sight she wants to forget - takes matters into her own hands and flips them over with a harsh cry, so that for the second time that night it's Raven at Clarke's mercy and not the other way around.
"Maybe I will," she replies, watching gleefully as Raven's pupils dilate with arousal. "Sit up for me, babe."
Raven does as asked, and Clarke reaches behind her to quickly unclasp Raven's bra, thankful for the familiarity. She can't imagine that it's too easy for guys to uncouple bras smoothly in the heat of the moment - God knows that the majority of Clarke's male partners have been anything but confident.
Once Raven's down to just her panties, Clarke wastes no time in leaning down to capture one copper nipple in her mouth. She rolls the bud between her teeth and tongue, feeling it pucker, and judging by Raven's increasingly desperate moans she'll say she's doing something right.
Clarke pulls away to suck yet more hickies into Raven's skin, this time into the underside of her breasts, leaving her tanned chest spit-slick and glossy. Raven whimpers, her hips rolling against Clarke almost subconsciously, searching for friction.
"You doing alright?" Clarke questions, purposefully drawing back so that Raven has to strain to reach her.
"Fuck you, Clarke," Raven huffs breathlessly. "Fucking touch me!"
"Not so nice on the other side, is it?" Clarke smirks. "Don't worry, babe; I'll make it good for you."
Raven's eyes widen in what Clarke thinks is a mix of shock and arousal. Given her confidence, it's easy to forget that the other girl hasn't done this before, and Clarke is hit with a sudden wave of responsibility - she wants to make this more than good for Raven, it has to be.
First things first, Clarke thinks. Make sure she's comfortable.
She draws back from Raven even further, untwining their legs and sitting up on the couch. Now she's no longer caught in a haze of lust, Clarke can see just how unromantic their current locale truly is.
Books are scattered across the floor haphazardly, and Clarke is pretty sure that Raven's actually got her head pillowed on a pile of (clean) laundry that Clarke just... set on the couch one day and forgot to pick up.
"Bedroom?" She asks sheepishly, twisting a lock of her hair around her index finger. Raven follows her finger with her eyes and then licks her lips hungrily, causing Clarke to squirm.
"Sure," she replies. "After all, sex is always much better in a real bed."
"I don't know about that..." Clarke grins. "I've had sex in some pretty cool places. C'mon, before the mood disappears entirely."
"Oh excuse me, was talking about your previous sexual escapades not doing it for you?" Raven asks drily, scrambling up off the couch and following Clarke to her bedroom. "'Cause it was getting me real hot under the collar."
"Shut up," Clarke laughs self-consciously, rubbing the back of her neck before gesturing aimlessly towards the open door of her bedroom. "This is where the magic happens, I guess."
Raven wanders in, past Clarke, and takes a running leap onto the bed.
"Come on in," she crows delightedly. "The water's fine!"
Clarke laughs in reply, sauntering over and crawling up the bed on all fours to hover over Raven. The dark-haired girl's eyes darken impossibly further, the brown of her irises swallowed by her pupils. Clarke leans down closer to capture Raven's bottom lip between her own, and groans deeply when she feels Raven's hands steal behind her to unclasp Clarke's bra.
"It undoes at the front," she mutters breathlessly, and Raven adjusts her hands accordingly.
"I knew that," she grins. "Front clasps, gotta love 'em."
Clarke's bra gets tossed away in about ten seconds, after that, and Raven wastes no time in familiarising herself with Clarke's chest, licking and sucking, even biting on occasion, much to Clarke's pleasure.
"Fuck," Clarke ghosts out. Her skin is tingling constantly from Raven's assault, tiny bolts of lightning shooting from her nipples to her clit with each twist of sensation.
She grinds the muscle of her thigh in between Raven's legs, the motion a punishment for Raven's same actions earlier. It backfires, though, because Raven relaxes helplessly into it, her hips roiling restlessly.
Clarke slumps forward and grins against Raven's neck, running her hands down Raven's side and hooking them into the fabric of her panties.
"Lift up for me," she says, and Raven tilts her hips, letting Clarke slide her underwear off of her and watching as she tosses it onto the floor.
When she dips her hand between Raven's legs, Clarke swears under her breath, Raven squirming into the touch. The dark-haired girl bites her lip in frustration, bucking her hips up into Clarke's hand.
"Fucking do something, Clarke, come on," Raven groans, and when Clarke slips her thumb over Raven's clit, rubbing in tight figure-eights, she transitions into a high-pitched whine.
"That good?" Clarke asks, and Raven nods her head frantically, biting her bottom lip so hard the skin turns white.
Clarke speeds up the motions of her fingers, ignoring the burning in her wrist, and watches as Raven writhes back and forth on the bed, tossing her head from side to side.
"Fuckfuckfuck, Clarke, please," Raven gasps, furrowing her brow. The sweat is dripping off her, pooling in her collarbones in a way that Clarke thinks should gross her out but instead only turns her on.
Clarke speeds up a tiny amount, and Raven begins to whimper.
"Fuck, so close, Clarke fu-"
"Yeah?" Clarke breathes, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses down the line of Raven's throat and shoulder. "Gonna come for me, yeah?"
Raven shudders with her whole body, legs quivering as her orgasm crashes over her. She gusts out a long, low moan of what could be Clarke's name, her knuckles going white from her iron-clad grip on the bedsheets, and jolts half-heartedly through the aftershocks, breathing heavily.
"Fucking hell," she gasps, collapsing into the mattress and grinning. "That was incredible."
"Thanks for the ego boost," Clarke laughs, trying not to think about how turned on she is. Raven looks incredible all the time, but seeing her come was something else, and Clarke is 100% sure that she'll need a cold shower pretty soon.
She starts to squirm subconsciously, grinding down onto the pressure of Raven's thigh, and the other girl's eyes gleam.
"What was it I said earlier?" Raven wonders airily. "'Reciprocation is key,' wasn't it?"
Clarke swallows harshly and nods, pressing her thighs together.
Raven grins wickedly. "Guess I'd better get right to it."
*
Octavia BAE <3
Sent at 08:17
soooo how'd it go????
clarke????
if ur dead pls let me know
"What the fuck is that?" Raven mumbles, shielding her eyes from the harsh glow of Clarke's phone.
"It's nothing," Clarke whispers, unwilling to disturb the fragile quiet. "Just a friend."
"Well can you turn the brightness down? Some of us were tired out last night," Raven grins, twisting around in the cradle of Clarke's arms to smile up at her.
"Sure," Clarke mutters distractedly. "Just let me send this really quick."
Clarke Griffin
Sent at 08:24
i'm alive don't worry
better than alive if you catch my drift ;)
Clarke's phone lights up with a reply almost instantaneously, but she doesn't take notice, locking her phone and putting it back on the bedside table - too wrapped up in the soft sheets and Raven's even softer skin to pay any attention to the outside world.
'It cannot get any better than this,' she thinks to herself, nuzzling her face into the curve of Raven's neck and letting her eyes droop closed. 'I am right where I'm supposed to be.'
Octavia BAE <3
Sent at 08:25
CLARKE WHAT
WHA
DONT LEAVE ME HANGING LIKE THIS
CLAKRE!!!!!