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All The Ways She Loves Her

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“Shit, someone’s coming!” Clarke whispers, grabbing Lexa’s arm and pressing her against the side of the nearest hut.

The voices get louder and then they can hear footsteps that come to a stop just a few yards away. Clarke can hear Pike informing his team that they’ll rest in the abandoned grounder village for an hour before continuing on.

Clarke clenches her jaw and looks at Lexa, wondering how they’re going to get out of this mess, but the commander just blinks and gives her a shallow nod. It’s a subtle gesture, but they’ve been spending so much time together lately that Clarke knows what it means. She can practically hear Lexa’s voice in her head.

Patience, Clarke.

The trouble is, she isn’t feeling very patient -- she hardly ever is. Clarke glances to the ground to see if they can make a quiet escape, but it’s covered in dried, crunchy leaves. She glances back at Lexa, who tilts in head in warning.

Clarke, no.

Clarke scrunches her nose at Lexa in response, and she can tell the commander is trying to glare back at her, but it’s no good because her eyes are shining. It makes Clarke want to kiss her.

Then again, everything makes her want to kiss Lexa, these days. Ever since she finally gave in to her feelings -- since “may we meet again” simply wouldn’t suffice -- she’s pretty much been a gonner.

She’d be embarrassed, except Lexa has it much, much worse. While Clarke’s emotions show through in the touch of her hands, Lexa’s are there in long, lingering, adoring gazes (that only make Clarke even handsier).

Soft fingertips brush across Clarke’s cheek, easing her from her thoughts. She blinks and focuses her eyes on Lexa, who’s giving her one of those looks right now -- the kind that makes her feel there’s no place Lexa would rather be than right here, with her.

It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, so Clarke squeeze’s Lexa’s waist for purchase. She leans forward to press her nose to Lexa’s cheek, but she doesn’t have to move far at all; they’re already so close, thighs to thighs and chest to chest.

Clarke thinks she can do this -- she can wait until Pike and his fuckboys finish resting and leave -- but then Lexa lets out this hot little puff of a breath against her cheek and, oh no.

Clarke pulls back to get a read on Lexa’s face and, shit, her pupils are blown wide and her lips are parted and her throat works as she swallows. Clarke leans her forehead against Lexa’s and shuts her eyes tight, cursing Pike and his need for a fucking hour-long rest.

There’s a crunch off to their left and Clarke flinches, pressing even closer into Lexa as if they’ll just become part of the hut. A man she recognizes from the Ark is several feet to their left and they hold their breath. If he turns his head, he’ll see them.

Clarke feels Lexa’s arms loop around her back, pulling her close with a reassuring touch. After what feels like years, the Arker finally walks back to where the rest of Pike’s crew is sitting.

Clarke exhales in relief and smiles at Lexa, only to find her face even more flushed than it was before. Lexa shifts, hips canting forward, and that’s when Clarke realizes at some point her knee slipped between Lexa’s thighs.

She watches Lexa swallow and shake her head -- I’m fine, Clarke -- but Clarke rolls her eyes, because she’s starting to look kind of desperate. Something like rage boils up in Clarke’s gut, because Pike has caused her enough problems already -- she’s not about to add sexually frustrating her girlfriend to that long, long list.

Holding Lexa’s gaze, Clarke shifts, pressing her knee more firmly against Lexa’s center. The commander’s mouth falls open and she slumps forward, looking at Clarke through bleary eyes.

“Don’t,” she whispers, but her voice is so ragged Clarke’s even less inclined to stop.

Clarke shakes her head, and they’re so close their noses touch. “Try to be quiet, for once.”

Clarke quirks an eyebrow at her but she doesn’t think Lexa notices, because her hips jerk upwards, like she can’t help herself. This is how Clarke likes her best -- unabashed and needy.

The metal cuffs Lexa wears on her thighs dig into Clarke’s leg, but she barely registers the pain as she moves against her, reveling in the way the furrow in Lexa’s brow deepens with each touch. Her nails are digging into Clarke’s back -- she can feel it even through all her layers -- and Clarke has to swallow back a moan at the thought of the marks this will leave on her, the physical evidence of all the ways she loves her.

There’s a fading bruise just above Lexa’s collarbone that Clarke decides to bring back to life. She closes her mouth over Lexa’s skin, giving her a teasing lick before she starts to suck -- gently at first, then building, building, building.

Clarke keeps rutting against her, nerves buzzing with her own want as she feels Lexa pant hot and wet against her ear, and eventually she realizes they’re not being very quiet anymore.

She shifts back, releasing Lexa’s neck, and pauses to make sure the Arkers are still milling around, unaware of their presence. Her brain is foggy, but she’s fairly certain they’re all none the wiser, so she looks back at Lexa and almost laughs at her narrowed eyes and tight-set jaw.

Don’t you dare stop, Clarke.

Slowly, so slowly, Clarke presses into her again, and Lexa actually lets out a strangled whimper. Clarke shudders, because fuck she’s so damn hot, and then she snakes her hand up from Lexa’s hip and clamps it over her mouth.

Lexa’s eyes widen, but when Clarke starts moving again her eyelids nearly flutter closed. Soon Lexa’s breath is shallow and warm against Clarke’s palm, and she knows she’s close.

There’s some sort of commotion happening on the other side of the hut -- a scuffle among two Arkers -- and Clarke could kiss their feet because even with her hand pressed over Lexa’s lips she’s anything but quiet when she comes.

Clarke leans forward to hear Lexa moan, low and breathy and cut off at the end, like she’s trying her best to hide it. She goes limp against Clarke, who can’t help but chuckle in her ear -- lazy, sated Lexa is her favorite.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Lexa whispers, burrowing her face in the crook of her neck.

“Yes please.” Clarke grins and kisses Lexa’s cheek. “But let’s wait for them to clear out first -- I know I won’t be quiet.”