Chapter 32
I would be lying if I said I'm not worried by Finn - about what he's done and what he's capable of doing. He would never harm us, but he's already harmed himself so much, and potentially created just enough trouble to put us all in danger indirectly. He is a loose cannon right now, in worse shape than I've ever seen any one of us, except maybe Murphy.
Murphy. I haven't crossed paths with him yet by some good fortune, and I pray to God I won't by the time the day is through. That would make me go ballistic, on top of everything. The last time we spoke, he was trying to kill Bellamy. I don't care if they've pardoned him - they could have put his ass on the Council as far as I'm concerned - I can't promise not at least throwing a really good punch at his face once I see him. So best he stays away.
But when the door of that Council room opens, I honestly feel I could cry tears of happiness, if I knew how.
''I take it no one's told you I'm back,'' I grin, standing just as frozen as Bellamy does, and Clarke beside him. They're not grinning back. By the look on his scarred face, I think Bellamy thinks I'm a ghost.
Then, when the long heartbreaking moment is done, he takes exactly three strides before he wraps his arms around me, and hugs me so tight and with so much force and emotion he literally lifts me off the floor.
''When Clarke told me you weren't with them I thought-,'' he nearly chokes up.
I can't even say anything; I can only laugh and try not to cry as he still sways with me, his face buried in my hair. He pulls back then - and I could swear his eyes are glassy - and he places his hands on my cheeks and kisses me with so much, my knees almost buckle.
''Well, there's a confirmation we all wanted,'' Clarke chuckles, and it's like for a moment we've almost forgotten she's even there. I kiss Bellamy one more time before pulling back, only to go and throw my arms around Clarke.
''Heard you were a total badass,'' I say into her hair before I pull back, ''Kicking Mount Weather's ass.''
''Yeah, well, now I have to figure out a way to do it again.''
''All in due time,'' Bellamy smiles, pulling me closer, ''Now we're having a drink. I feel like we all need it after today.''
*
''God,'' I make a face - to Bellamy's amusement - as I swallow the drink down, ''This moonshine's worse than Monty's.''
The chuckles die down when I mention Monty, once we realize where he is. I didn't mean to be a buzz-kill. But alas.
''We're gonna get them out,'' Bellamy tells Clarke once he sees her expression - he's probably told her that a million times since they've reunited. It's weighing Clarke down, it's obvious. Knowing her, she probably feels this is her responsibility entirely. The squeeze of Bellamy's hand on my knee tightens a bit. Apparently, he can't separate himself from me now that he knows I'm alive; and I - I can't wait for the first moment alone to get my hands on him.
''We've lost a lot of time,'' Clarke says, looking at her cup, ''And with what happened today... We need to act.''
''If you could get out, it's manageable, right?'' I ask.
''Right, but after the whole spectacle with Clarke,'' Bellamy says, ''I don't think anyone's gonna be slipping out any time soon.''
''You can bet security's doubled,'' she agrees, ''And forty-seven people can't exactly slip out, not the way me and Anya did.''
''There's no use doing this now, we're going around in circles,'' Bellamy shakes his head, then puts on a small smile as he turns to me, ''Now. Where the hell have you been?''
''Me? Guess.''
''Not today, honey, spit it out,'' Clarke says.
''I crossed paths with Rand.''
''That Grounder?'' Bellamy frowns.
''Yeah. He saved my life. Again. I got lucky,'' I explain, ''I found him in Lincoln's cave, where I would have died if he hadn't been there to give me the antidote. Their arrows were poisoned.''
Bellamy frowns, then wraps an arm around me to pull me closer. ''I should thank him. But why'd he do that?''
''Why did Lincoln help Octavia?'' Clarke quips from across the table, then hurriedly corrects herself once she realizes what she's implied - much to my amusement; Clarke is feeling the effects of moonshine, apparently - ''I mean- I'm not saying he's in love with you or anything. Just saying they're not all bad. They can't be.''
''He better not be,'' Bellamy says, and Clarke and I can't help but laugh - in all of this mess, even the smallest chuckle is a comfort. Clarke gulps the last of her moonshine down, then makes a scowling face before putting the cup back down.
''Well,'' she stands up, ''This has been great, but I'm gonna try and catch some sleep before I decide to fling myself off a cliff.''
''You wouldn't do that to us,'' I tease with a smile. She smiles back with a nod, waves a bye, and walks away - more relaxed now, less tension in her body. It must be the moonshine indeed.
''Come on,'' Bellamy takes my hand, leading me away.
''Where we going?'' I ask, even though I already know.
*
The moment we're in his tent, his lips are on mine, his hands on my cheek and my neck and I get goosebumps all across - head to toe - from that only. Even his breathing and his closeness set every nerve underneath my skin on fire. The taste of him - the sourness of lingering moonshine making it all even more intoxicating. His soft, barely chapped lips, the feel of his tongue against mine - I am already in flames. Instinctively, my hands pull on his jacket. He shrugs it off before he makes for mine, and it all goes so fluidly, one move after the other, one article of clothing after the other, until we're nothing but skin on skin only - his as hot as mine.
The weight of him on top of me, the warmth of his skin and his breaths and the wetness of his lips on my skin. His hands are everywhere; his lips trailing kisses down my neck, open and wet and causing my heart to accelerate. I moan pathetically; I am melting, putty in his hands. And whenever I do, he knows he's found the spot to focus on, and my breath would literally get caught in my throat, because this man has some power over me I've never experienced before.
Somehow we've switched places - he looks so beautiful below me, some of the tiny locks of his raven hair that I love so much sprawled on the makeshift pillow. I kiss his lips, his cheeks, his nose, his everything; I run my hand through his hair - I can't help it. When I kiss his lips again, it's slow, lingering, savoring every moment.
He places his hands on my hips - the feel of his calloused skin setting me on some new type of metaphorical fire, adding more to the heat inside of me. I kiss him again, very gently, barely moving, before his lips move to my jaw and place a kiss there, then lower and lower down my neck again. I close my eyes involuntarily as he kisses me back up to my lips, this time kissing me deeply, nibbling, pulling my lips, licking at my tongue slowly. I almost shudder. I arch myself into him so instinctively - he has a spell on me. He replies by pulling me closer, with a moan of his own at the feel of me grinding on him.
His hands are now on my thighs, going up up up to rest on my butt and squeeze a bit. I am already all flushed, my cheeks burning, breathing irregular, in no control over myself as my forehead rests against his. He pecks my lips once more as his fingers wander in between my legs, but then I start leaving wet kisses down his neck, biting and sucking every now and then, and he can barely focus when I find his spot, and his hissing and squeezes on my butt as a reaction to what I'm doing just make me even hotter.
I whine his name in a breath when he kisses my lips again. ''Shhh,'' he murmurs against my lips before a really wet kiss on my mouth, ''I got you, babe.'' His fingers go back between my legs, eyes now locked on mine, and when his two digits probe through my folds and start rubbing, I all but lose it. I kiss him again, tongue playing with his, his breathing louder. When his fingers enter me, I release a louder, open-mouthed ''Ahh'' that could probably be heard outside. When his fingers clench and un-clench inside of me, sending pleasure waves through every nerve in my body, I can't help shamelessly moaning, so he kisses me to silence me, because my brain is clearly on standby and thinking about how loud I am is the last thing on my mind.
My entire body is on fire, but it's not enough. I want him - entirely - and I whine his name against his lips again as it's pretty much all I can do.
''Okay, baby, okay,'' he pulls his fingers out of me in reply and somehow the loss of his fingers makes me feel - embarrassingly - even needier. When he positions himself below me, and when he says ''Come here'' - those two simple words have to be the sexiest I've ever heard in my life. Especially in that low, raspy voice of his. One of his hands finds my hip again. By this time, my mind is fuzzy. I can swear I feel dizzy and light-headed. I couldn't utter a word to him now even if I wanted to.
He grunts very sexily as I lower myself on him, slowly, with his help, and the feeling of his thickness finally stretching me has me losing my damn mind. When I am finally seated, he tries to bring me even closer to him with an arm around my waist. My hands are on his chest, then on his face, my lips on his, hungry. He gives me just a while to adjust to his size, and uses the time to whisper against my lips everything I never believed I'd hear him say. You're so beautiful. You feel so good, baby. So fucking beautiful. I die a little every time. As though I'm not crazed enough, his whispers just cause another waterfall out of me. This is crazy, it's never been like this, never this good; I've never felt this way before - and I know, but I can't really think straight; I can't think about anything.
He groans when I start moving, the sound of it twisting my insides. His hands on my hips but not urging me. We keep the pace slow enough at first, his groans sounding more like growls at times, and my moaning safely low enough. It's my moaning that seems to be turning him on even more - I can see it in his face now, and the way he tries to control himself not to just slam me down, burying his nails into the skin of my hips, and the way he's throbbing inside of me, just pulsating.
He gives in and flips me over, picking up the pace, his lips everywhere - my jaw, my neck, my collarbones. I arch my back even more, and it feels even better, and the way his muscles flex and shine with sweat under what little light there is in the tent makes it all even more erotic.
One of his hands reaches back down to get me off, and once he whimpers into my lips when I kiss him and his movement becomes more erratic, I know he's close too. My body is soon sent into a frenzy - the sweet, sweet pleasure flooding over me entire, rushing over me. He moves still, prolonging this high I'm on, and I can't help but cling onto him, my nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. He finishes soon after, spilling his warmth over my hips, dripping down my thighs. I love the feeling of it, and the way his sweaty body collapses on top of mine and I can smell every little thing about him - his scent and the smell of sex and sweat and the earthy smell that's always about him and even a bit of moonshine lingering still.
We lie like that for a while until we catch our breaths, his face buried in the crook of my neck and his lips placing soft kisses lazily. I gently run my fingers through some of his locks, wet now with sweat dripping down his neck. He moves back to kiss me on the lips again.
''After this,'' he says breathily against my lips, ''The world could end tomorrow for all I care.''
I laugh at that and his silly smile. ''I've missed you,'' I admit, ''I was scared, but... I knew you'd made it.''
''How?''
''I don't know. I guess I had to believe. For my sanity,'' I chuckle.
''We thought the Grounders had you until Clarke came along. Then, when she told me you were not with them in the Mountain, I... I refused to believe, but days passed and you didn't come back and every day I-''
I kiss him just to stop him from going somewhere depressing, ''I'm here now. We're all gonna be okay.''