Clexa Omegaverse Adventures

Like the tide, regret came in waves. First, the music. Whoever dared to call themselves the DJ of the party simply selected some random playlist and abandoned it to fester on the loudspeakers. Second, Anya had vanished the moment they stepped into the house, mumbling something about a girl, which meant Lexa would be coming home alone that night. And finally, just like being swallowed by a tide, Lexa regretted coming to this party when she choked on the cheap concoction of punch fruit mix and low shelf vodka. 

Regret, regret, regret. Coming to this party had been a mistake. She escaped to the backyard of the house hoping to find freedom from mediocre music and people. Ignoring a huddle of stoners that offered her a joint—no thank you; she had soccer practice early the next morning—she made her way to the back gate. Freedom was close. Suddenly too close, when the wooden gate opened from the outside straight at her face and Lexa fell backwards, ungracefully.

“Holy shit!” She heard someone call from above her. Lexa would love to yell at her perpetrator as soon as she could open her eyes, but then something warm filled her mouth.

“Fuck, you killed her, Clarke.”

“I didn’t kill her!” The voice was closer, and someone helped her sit up. Lexa opened her eyes, saw blue, and closed them again. She blinked hard, unfocused. “Here, put this under your nose,” the same voice instructed, gentle, and Lexa felt pressure under her nose. 

“Is she okay?”

“Hi. Can you hear us?” Lexa finally regained full consciousness and stared at maybe the one reason she would stay at a horrible party. 

“Hi,” Lexa mumbled from under the cloth on her nose. Everything hurt. Her nose, her cheek, her face. It was like the day she had hit her face against the goal post back in high school, but this time she didn’t score.

“What’s your name?” Her rescuing muse asked, her warm hand holding whatever was keeping Lexa’s nose from bleeding. 

“Lexa.” Lexa felt for all her teeth with her tongue. No gaps. That was good. “What happened?”

“She tried to kill you,” someone said from above them, and the muse flipped them off.

“It was an accident. O, get some of the beer ice for me?”

Lexa took a deep breath and tried to free her face from whatever was on it. 

“Let’s keep it there for a little more, okay? Until the bleeding stops. It doesn’t look bad, though. You’ll live.”

“Good.” Lexa tasted copper on her tongue. “I like to live.”

The laugher that erupted from her savior was melodic and low, like a touch of salt in a sweet cupcake. Lexa liked it. 

“Here.” The cloth, which Lexa noticed was a hoodie, was replaced by ice in a ziploc bag, and the coolness immediately soothed Lexa’s senses. “Hold that to your nose. Let’s take a look at it somewhere quieter.” Lexa accepted the hand and stood up, noticing the couple of inches she had on the girl. They walked back to the house, and her saving angel greeted the stoners with high fives, never letting Lexa’s hand go.

“Benji’s locked downstairs, and there’s a bathroom there,” the girl said, as if any of those words made sense, guiding Lexa through the party crowd. Lexa focused on not tripping and holding the ice to her face; she failed at both. They made it to a door behind the stairs and, once it clicked shut, a merciful extra layer was between them and the loud music. 

Lexa plopped on the couch, hissing, and tried to touch her nose. 

“Wait, let me see.” Without distractions, Lexa could only look at the girl next to her. Her pink glitter eyeshadow was smudged, but her lips were still pristine cherry red. Delicate fingers touched Lexa with such care that she closed her eyes again. “Not broken. Just a bump,” she declared.

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve done that once or twice. I’m Clarke, by the way. Sorry about the whole gate-at-your-face thing. We were out getting beer because the vodka bomb Bellamy made is disgusting.” 

“It is disgusting. I’m Lexa.”

“You told me.” The girl said easily, a satisfied grin on her face when her hands left Lexa’s numb cheek. “I asked you before to make sure you were not unconscious.”

“I’m conscious.”

“That you are.” Lexa tried and failed to not look at the exposed cleavage every time Clarke laughed. Maybe being hit in the face had its advantages, like meeting the cutest omega at the party. 

“Is this your party?” Lexa asked, twitching her nose to test it out. It burned, but less so, and Lexa wasn’t sure if that was because of the effect of the ice or the girl. 

“Gods, no!” Clarke laughed again and Lexa had become addicted to it. “Bellamy is my friend O’s brother, and this is his party. We tried to offer ideas, but he wanted to do it all himself. That’s why it sucks.”

“It kinda sucks.”

Clarke looked at something behind Lexa, her smile blossoming into something warm and inviting. “Oh, hey, Benji.” Lexa turned her head to see a black cat with two big white spots staring at them from atop the dryer. He purred when Clarke motioned for him to come and made his way to her lap. He ignored Lexa completely, jumping above her shoulder to land on Clarke’s jeans. “Such a good boy.” She petted him a couple of times, and he spread himself on her lap in a cute offering. “He hides here whenever there’s new people in the house.”

Lexa risked a touch to the cat’s fur, and if he didn’t like strangers, he was too absorbed in Clarke’s caress to notice. She couldn’t blame him. Her fingers grazed Clarke’s, and no one pulled away. Benji purred in cat heaven-bliss, his legs up in the air at the attention.

“He’s the cutest thing ever,” Clarke whispered, leaning down to kiss the cat’s head. Lexa’s mind, so unprepared for the boost in cleavage view and a hot girl leaning down on her lap, swallowed the aftertaste of blood and repeated,

“The Cutest thing ever.” Clarke looked up, the glitter on her eyeshadow quivering with a single raised eyebrow. That was a challenge Lexa took head on, so she completed, “and the cat is not too bad.”

Clarke laughed, quiet and rich, and tucked a stray blonde lock behind her ear. “You’re not concussed, are you?”

Lexa frowned, her hand touching Clarke’s palm above the endless purring. “I hope not. But maybe I am a little to have the guts to flirt with you.”

Clarke’s smile was wide and beautiful, a small dimple on her cheek sparkling with makeup. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume. That’s on me for judging a book by the cover.” Her finger played with her hair again and Lexa saw a blush creeping down from her cheeks to her neck. She wanted to kiss the pink taking over pale skin, sink her teeth and leave marks on mapped freckles. Was that a concussion or a crush?

Between them, the monochrome cat was satisfied with the attention and jumped on the ground, leaving their hands with no excuse on why they were still touching. Lexa knew it was her role to take action; she would lean in and kiss those beautiful lips, get all smudged in red lipstick, finally find out how soft that little spot under her jaw would feel and—

Clarke kissed her while Lexa planned her move. It was gentle, mindful of Lexa’s nose, and yet Clarke’s tongue was slow but purposeful, an insistent explorer of everything Lexa wanted to give. Lexa opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, swallowing the moan that escaped Clarke’s lips. She welcomed the hand on her hips, allowing herself to be pulled closer, until that wasn’t enough, and she bit under Clarke’s jaw, whispering, “Do you want to sit on my lap?”

The grin that spread on Clarke’s face was predatory. All teeth and dimples, ready to pounce. So she was that type of omega, okay. Lexa could roll with that. Clarke’s hands were gentle when she cradled the back of Lexa’s head, pulling it to reveal Lexa’s pulsing point on her neck. 

“You good? Your nose okay?” Clarke asked, breath heavy against Lexa’s lips, and Lexa would endure another gate to her face just to kiss this woman again. She nodded and gasped when Clarke sat fully on her lap. She was warm, warmer than her hands, all hot touches of tongue and hands. Clarke’s knees hit the back of the couch, her breasts on display as she moved her hair aside and leaned in for another kiss. They parted for air, breaths mingling, and Clarke rolled her hips and Lexa couldn’t suppress a moan.

“That wasn’t because of your nose, was it?” Clarke’s eyes spoke of want, but her words were laced with concern. Lexa smiled and kissed her, tongues meeting halfway. 

“No,” she reassured the woman on her lap, hooking her fingers on Clarke’s belt. “That was something else.”

Clarke rolled her hips again, and Lexa bit her lip not to gasp. “I wonder what?” Clarke teased, grinding her hips farther. Lexa had not predicted a handjob tonight, but sure, she also had not predicted being knocked out, but there she was. 

“Fuck,” Clarke hissed above her, and Lexa continued her diligent work on her ear. She sucked the earrings there, licked the reddening skin, then went for another kiss. She ignored the protest her nose made when Clarke pushed back, hunger in her gasps. “You kiss like you mean it,” Clarke confessed mid-kiss, her hands toying with Lexa’s button-up shirt. “Can I open this?” Lexa nodded and continued to kiss Clarke’s neck as her buttons fell open, one haphazardly after the other. Clarke’s hands toyed with the underside of her sports bra, painted nails pulling at the elastic. Lexa made a questioning noise in the back of her throat that Clarke interpreted correctly, her own blouse hitting the floor. Black lace and peaked nipples welcomed Lexa.

“You’re gorgeous,” Lexa whispered, her mouth closing on a nipple, and Clarke was the one making embarrassing sounds. Lexa hummed at the scrape of nails on her nape, pulling her head impossibly closer, and she obliged, the pain a minor distraction in her mind so overpowered by boobs. Lexa helped Clarke to start a rhythm, her hands on her backside pulling her back and forth, the heat between them growing. There was a particular grind where Clarke’s jeans met Lexa’s hardening member just right, and her hips moved to meet hers in sync. “Fuck, you’re making me hard,” Lexa confessed into blonde hair, her tongue licking under Clarke’s chin. Clarke hummed with the praise, her hips never stopping.

“Me too, babe.” She breathed hot on Lexa’s ear, leaving lipstick marks all over Lexa’s skin. 

Lexa didn’t process what Clarke said. Too preoccupied with damp lace under her tongue to fully comprehend what Clarke had said. Until she wasn’t. “Wait, what?”

Clarke didn’t stop their grinding, sucking a deep mark on Lexa’s neck. “What did you say?” Lexa repeated the question, moving one hand to Clarke’s lower back. Hazed, with pupils eating at the blue of her eyes, Clarke blinked, tilting her head to the side. 

“What?” Clarke asked, now confusion between her knitted eyebrows. “Is your nose okay?”

“I’m fine, but… are you—” Lexa didn’t have to form the question. All she had to do was look beyond the boobs—a herculean task with an almost half-naked Clarke on her lap—to see the bulge in her own pants. And the other one in Clarke’s. The sweet, sweet grinding had been — “You’re an alpha,” Lexa wheezed, eyes wide.

Unphased, Clarke tucked a stray braid back behind Lexa’s ear. “Yeah?”

“I… I did not know that.”

Clarke chuckled, the new bruise on her neck shining a light pink. “That’s the problem of assuming things about people, isn’t it?”

“But.” Lexa’s eyes fixed on her own erection and the matching one in Clarke’s pants. Clarke had a penis. A legitimate dick. Hard. Which had been grinding against Lexa’s own. “But I’ve never been with an alpha,” Lexa said, and finally looked up to find a tight smile. 

“If you’re going to be a jerk about it,” Clarke warned, “you better fucking leave now.”

“No, no, no, it’s not like that. It’s that I’ve never…” She bit her lip and watched as Clarke looked her up and down.

“It’s the first time you desire an alpha.” Clarke rolled her hips in emphasis. “The first time you get hard for one.”

Lexa couldn’t do anything but nod. This was… weird. No, different. Unprecedented. Not unpleasant; quite the contrary. Clarke was a cloud of perfume and painted nails and still looked damn heck proud of her status. Lexa admired that. She wanted that.

“I understand if you want to stop.” Clarke kissed Lexa’s cheek. “But I’d really like to touch you. You look like you’d moan my name as you come.” There was that embarrassing noise in Lexa’s throat again. “Or,” Clarke continued atop her throne, running a single finger down Lexa’s chin. “You can go home and jerk off thinking about fucking me. So what do you say?” 

Anya would make so much fun of her if she knew. Or would she? Would anyone even care?

“Yes.” Lexa lifted her head to find Clarke’s lips, but she pulled back, a warm, so warm hand on Lexa’s chest. 

“Yes to what, Lexa? I need to hear you say it.”

Swallowing on nothing, Lexa focused on kiss-swollen lips. “I want you to touch me.” Lexa didn’t hear her own voice, not with blood rushing everywhere at once. Her ears popped, her heart throbbed desperately in her ribcage and pleasantly between her legs. Clarke’s lips were rough on hers, her always-warm hands strong when she lowered Lexa’s zipper. Had she always been so intense and only now Lexa associated this with being an alpha? Or being an alpha had nothing to do with it; was that just Clarke?

“Do you usually do this with other alphas?” Lexa said through gritted teeth, her hands digging into Clarke’s jeans. Clarke closed her fist around her and Lexa moaned, leaning her forehead on Clarke’s shoulder. 

“Sometimes.” Clarke kissed Lexa’s temple, lingering there for a moment. Lexa twitched in Clarke’s hand. “Lexa.” She coaxed Lexa out of hiding. With her free hand, she held Lexa’s chin, and the corners of her eyes lowered at whatever she saw in Lexa’s face. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting another alpha, Lexa.” Her dominant hand around Lexa moved, a slow up and down, almost a lazy stroke. Clarke did everything with precision, a hidden, meaningful grace. “It doesn’t make you less of an alpha, or a woman.” Following the cadence of Lexa’s gasps, Clarke sped up, spreading the dripping need along Lexa’s shaft. “Or me. I’m no less of an alpha for doing this.” Clarke looked down, and Lexa would never forget how fascinated she looked. 

“Come here.” Lexa leaned for a kiss and helped Clarke sit next to her instead. “Can you touch yourself while you touch me?” 

Clarke nodded enthusiastically at the proposal, her first graceless move the way she spread her legs and wiggled until the tight jeans were below her hips. Lexa loved that she had thin, lacy briefs that did nothing to hide her arousal. Lexa’s fingers clawed at Clarke’s thighs, and she hoped to leave marks, a visceral need taking over to have any kind of claim on her. 

If Clarke wasn’t an expert on this, no one else would be. She moved both hands in sync, watching for clues on Lexa’s face and bucking her hips at each stroke. Lexa mimicked her movements, their hips jumping in tandem, fingers digging into pale skin. Lexa tilted her head to bite Clarke’s shoulder.

Tongue on Clarke’s bruised skin, Lexa asked, “Can I?”

“What?” Clarke’s half-lidded eyes widened as Lexa’s right hand moved in her direction. Clarke was apparently left-handed, and Lexa was right-handed, a perfect combination as Lexa, for the first time in her life, held someone else’s hard, leaking cock.

“Fuck,” Lexa whined as Clarke sped up at her first touch. Clarke was thick, thicker than her, but Lexa did what usually worked for her, wrist twisting close to the knot and light at the head. Clarke moaned, tightening her grip on Lexa. Pre-come poured freely from Lexa’s head, coating Clarke’s hands, making the gliding smoother.

“Harder,” Clarke asked in a gasp, and Lexa struggled to keep her rhythm, liquid beading over Clarke’s broad head. “Yeah, babe, like that.”

Lexa bit her lip at the term of endearment. Part of her wanted to giggle at having another grown alpha calling her babe, but whatever was left of her functional brain melted at Clarke’s voice.

“I can’t wait to feel your cock inside me.”

An image flashed in Lexa’s closed eyelids as vividly as a memory: Clarke, all soft curves and hard cock, on all fours, head buried in a pillow as Lexa fucked and fucked into her. “That’s it, babe, come for me.”

Lexa grunted, her hips missing the increasing pace. Fuck, she was going to come already. She could feel it building in her belly. She opened her eyes to see Clarke kicking off her pants and straddling her again. Clarke shifted closer, her proud erection an angry red, and Lexa salivated. “This is alright?” Lexa nodded, and moaned as Clarke’s hand closed around her again, but this time Clarke’s cock was touching hers, teasing the sensitive underside. It transfigured Lexa; her cock was longer, but Clarke topped in girth, and the knot forming at her base was impressive. They glided together, Clarke using her hand to stimulate them. 

“God,” Clarke moaned on top of Lexa, her breasts bouncing, her hips thrusting forward, and Lexa wondered if she would look like that while riding her.

“Clarke, Clarke, I’m going to—”

“Make a mess, babe.” There was an unmistakable alpha tone to Clarke’s voice, and it was that what pushed Lexa into sweet oblivion. She came with a long moan that died on Clarke’s neck, thrusting into Clarke’s hand with hard thrusts of her hips. She felt the splash of warm come on her belly, and then Clarke was joining her, a long, high-pitched moan leaving her lips as she continued to stroke them and scratch Lexa’s nape at the same time.

Indeed, they made a mess.

It took a long time for Lexa to open her eyes, her abs twitching in aftershocks, when Clarke finally released her. Her nose ached, but she kept it pressured against Clarke’s neck, enjoying the scent that became stronger there.

“You good?” Clarke asked, guiding Lexa to look up at her. Lexa smiled at the smudged lipstick. 

“Yeah.”

“You really look concussed now.”

“Worth it.”

Clarke kissed Lexa’s cheek, lingering there. “Is it okay if I asked for your number? In case you don’t regret this alpha experience.”

“I don’t regret it,” Lexa said, nuzzling into Clarke’s neck. “I kind of want to do it again.”

“Hmm…” Clarke’s fingers grazed Lexa’s chin, lifting it for a short, sweet kiss. “There are other things we could do, too. Just saying.”

Lexa blinked slowly, the mental images taking life. Between them, her cock twitched, curious. Clarke kissed her, albeit softly. “But you really look like you need a break. Can I drive you home?”

Lexa realized that saying no to Clarke was extremely difficult.

And she was okay with that.