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“I could fuck you,” Lexa decides one day, when Clarke is over and they’re comparing notes for their social psychology class.
They’re a bottle of wine and two shots deep, ranting more about Hollywood sexism than they are about biology class structure. Clarke’s in the middle of a five minute long tirade about bisexual representation in the media, gesturing more and more wildly the more heated she becomes, when the thought hits Lexa quite suddenly. She’s a little too inebriated for her brain to mouth filter to work properly so it slips out against her will, but Clarke, to her credit, doesn’t seem to mind so much as she looks amused. Oh well, Lexa thinks, Clarke was probably better off knowing that she was fuckable anyway.
“Yeah?” Clarke responds, arching a brow in a way that’s unfairly attractive. “I don’t think you could handle me.”
Lexa almost nearly falls over with how quickly she sits up. “What do you mean? I could totally handle you.” Clarke just gives her a look and Lexa barrells on. “I could! I could fuck you!”
Clarke hums thoughtfully, pats Lexa’s knee comfortingly. “Sure you could.”
Lexa’s offended now, Clarke’s blatant disregard poking at her more unfortunate Alpha tendencies.
“Why not?” she demands.
“Two Alphas?” Clarke scoffs, waving away the thought with her hand. “We’d probably kill each other trying to figure out who gets to be on top.”
Lexa furrows her brows, trying to decipher the meaning in Clarke’s words through her drunk haze. “I’d be on top,” she states resolutely.
On any other day, Lexa would be horrified at how she’s playing into Alpha stereotypes, but not today, because today Clarke actually thinks she could top her and that just doesn’t sit right with Lexa on, like, some weird fundamental level.
Clarke gives her a bored look. “If that’s what you think.”
Lexa pushes up onto her knees so that she’s towering over Clarke next to her. “You don’t think so?”
Clarke shrugs, ignoring Lexa and focusing on her phone in her hand. “I think you could try.”
Lexa’s not sure what possesses her to pluck Clarke’s phone from her hand and toss it aside, but she does, straddling Clarke’s lap just as quickly.
“Jesus, Lex,” Clarke yelps in surprise, hands hovering awkwardly over Lexa’s hips before Lexa grabs them and places them there firmly.
Clarke feels good against her, Lexa decides, as Clarke thumbs almost mindlessly at the skin exposed between Lexa’s shirt and jeans. Her hands are soft and unlike most Alphas, they’re gentle in the way they press purposefully against her. Lexa knows that she herself has to make the conscious effort to ignore most of her Alpha like desires, and wonders if that’s what Clarke’s doing now. If she’s fighting the urge to just throw Lexa down and take her hard and rough right then and there on Lexa’s living room couch. That’s certainly what Lexa’s doing, after all, because everything about Clarke right now is screaming take, take, take, even though Lexa would much rather give.
Clarke swallows and Lexa follows the movement with her eyes. She leans forward, arms bracing themselves against the back of the couch next to Clarke’s head. Clarke’s pupils are slightly dilated and Lexa wonders how much of that is from her or the alcohol. She smirks.
“You were saying?”
Clarke rolls her eyes, but her voice is shaky as she grumbles, “You caught me by surprise.”
Lexa settles more of her weight against Clarke, Clarke’s hands subconsciously moving around to grasp at Lexa’s ass. Lexa’s been unknowingly pumping out alluring pheromones and she only just now realizes that Clarke’s’ been responding in kind. This is definitely not best friend behavior.
It’s definitely not Alpha behavior, either.
“I could fuck you,” Lexa repeats, rolling her hips with intent, tracking the way Clarke’s lips part in surprise.
Clarke groans, whispering hotly against Lexa’s lips, “Yeah, you could.”
It’s a challenge if Lexa’s ever seen one and she answers by leaning down, sniffing just behind Clarke’s ear where her scent is strongest. Normally, she doesn’t find the smell of Alphas appealing, but Clarke smells so damn good it’s driving her crazy. Her scent has always had this effect on her and Lexa’s pondered why on more than one occasion, but it’s only now that Lexa’s finally put the pieces together. Clarke smells good because Lexa’s attracted to her.
The thought alone should scare her. An Alpha liking another Alpha? Not unheard of, but definitely not common. And with Lexa’s family being the way they are, it’s expected that Lexa one day bring back a nice Omega to marry. But Clarke. Fuck. Clarke is here and so, so pretty and Lexa can barely think of anything else other than how it’ll feel when she finally gets to taste her.
“Do you want to fuck me, Clarke?” Lexa breathes into Clarke’s ear, punctuating it with a particularly hard thrust of her hips.
Clarke’s moan is nothing short of sinful.
“Shit,” she curses, using her hold on Lexa’s ass to aid in Lexa’s movement, tossing her head back and hissing when Lexa nips at her earlobe. Lexa can feel the heat rolling off of Clarke in waves and knows Clarke can feel her too.
“Yeah, okay,” Clarke finally answers. Lexa pulls back enough to stare into Clarke’s eyes, dark and wide with desire. She traps her bottom lip between her teeth, peers up at Lexa beneath her eyelashes and demands, “Fuck me, Lexa.”
And, well, who is Lexa to deny a request like that?
Clarke kisses like an Alpha does—like Lexa does—all tongue and pent up aggression. She licks into Lexa’s mouth deliberately, swiping at the roof of Lexa’s mouth with her tongue before tangling it with Lexa’s. She coaxes Lexa’s tongue out with her own, sucks on it heartily when she does, then moves on quickly to line the column of Lexa’s throat with bruising kisses.
“Holy shit, Clarke,” Lexa breathes after Clarke dedicates an indeterminate amount of time marking just underneath Lexa’s pulse point.
She’d be mad at the way Clarke has suddenly taken control, even though Lexa’s the one who initiated, but she really can’t find it in her to care. Not when Clarke is doing whatever it is she’s doing with her tongue.
Clarke leans back, smirks at the way Lexa’s been left breathless, and comments, “You’re pretty pliant for an Alpha, aren’t you?”
Lexa narrows her eyes, her fragile Alpha pride kind of wounded. She doesn’t waste time stewing on that, though, deciding that there are a lot of other things she’d rather be doing. She shifts away, pulling her shirt off quickly. Clarke’s eyes widen considerably and Lexa grins, triumphant.
“Less talking,” she says, unclasping her bra in one swift movement. Clarke reaches up to grasp at her breasts, kneading the soft flesh firmly, and Lexa gasps. She rolls her hips again, tugging Clarke’s shirt up, until Clarke gets the hint and lifts her arms.
Fuck, her breasts were amazing, Lexa thinks fleetingly, before she’s aiding in Clarke’s efforts to get her bra off faster. Once she does, Lexa’s left with a sight that is quickly becoming her favorite. She leans down, taking one of Clarke’s nipples into her mouth and moans.
If Lexa were thinking straight, she might think that this might not have been the best decision to make when they weren’t entirely sober. Fucking Clarke? Definitely a good decision. But fucking Clarke, her best friend, who’s also an Alpha? That probably required more forethought.
It’s hard to be too upset about this, though, when Clarke pulls the zipper of her jeans down and shoves her hand inside. She teases at the damp cotton of Lexa’s underwear, before pushing it aside and sliding into wet heat. Lexa gasps, rocking into the movement of Clarke’s fingers.
At this point, Clarke has made it pretty clear: Lexa may be on top, but Clarke is in charge. It’s not as disconcerting a thought as it should have been, but that may have had something to do with the way Clarke’s talented fingers were moving against her. Lexa’s orgasm is approaching quickly, far more quickly than it usually does when she’s fucking a Beta or an Omega, but Lexa doesn’t have much time to ponder whether it’s because she’s fucking an Alpha or because she’s fucking Clarke that’s the reason why, when Clarke arches up into her, finding that spot on her front wall, and eliciting possibly the most pornographic moan of Lexa’s life.
“Come on, Lex,” she coos as Lexa shudders on top of her, thumb circling Lexa’s clit mercilessly, “Cum for me.”
And Lexa does. Her back arches, thrusting her chest into Clarke’s eager mouth. She tangles her fingers in Clarke’s hair, moans so loudly she’s sure her neighbors can hear, and feels her heart thump erratically against her ribs. When it’s finally over and her back is sticky with sweat and her legs feel numb with pleasure, she slumps over tiredly. She’s only vaguely aware of Clarke’s fingers slipping out of her, her other hand rubbing soothingly up and down Lexa’s back as Lexa lets out a sound reminiscent of a whimper.
“I’ve got you,” Clarke is whispering over and over into Lexa’s hair, the Alpha pheromones she’s pumping out relaxing Lexa instead of riling her up like they would have usually.
When Lexa finally regains her strength, and, subsequently, her senses, it occurs to her what just happened. She just had sex. With Clarke. Her best friend. Another Alpha. Lexa thinks she should be more concerned by this sudden turn of events, but all she can focus on is Clarke’s breasts pressed against her own, nipples hard and straining. It reminds Lexa of what she initially wanted, what had driven her to this point in the first place.
She leans back, eying Clarke’s kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks. Clarke’s body is taut with unrelieved pressure, and that knowledge is more than enough to have Lexa sliding off of Clarke’s lap and down to her knees. Clarke watches her go, legs falling open automatically when Lexa reaches forward to tug at her pants.
“Who’s the pliant Alpha now?” Lexa taunts once she’s successfully rid Clarke of her pants and underwear. She kisses at Clarke’s inner thigh, relishing in the pleased hum Clarke gives her.
“Shut up,” Clarke mumbles, winding her hands in Lexa’s hair to pull her where Clarke needs her most.
Lexa laughs lightly and does just that, eager to finally get a taste of what she’s been thinking of this whole time. She licks hotly into Clarke’s soaking slit and wastes no time in pushing Clarke into a toe curling orgasm again and again and again.
--
The morning after isn’t as awkward as Lexa thinks it’d be following a night of debauchery with her best friend. Lexa wakes with her arms wrapped around Clarke, legs tangled together, and breath mingling. She vaguely recalls the slight argument they’d gotten into right before they fell asleep after the fourth (or fifth?) round, where neither of them had been keen on being the little spoon.
“Just turn around,” Clarke had said, swatting at Lexa’s hip, but Lexa wouldn’t budge.
“You turn around.”
It had led to a twenty second standoff where they had just laid there glaring at each other, both of them very naked and very aware of it. In the end, Clarke had been the one to roll her eyes, pulling Lexa’s front against hers.
“Fine,” she said, tossing her leg over Lexa’s hip, “no one has to be the little spoon.”
It seems they had stayed in that position the entire night, and even though Lexa’s arm is dead from Clarke resting on it for hours, she can’t find it in her to complain.
Clarke wakes shortly after she does, face scrunching adorably into a yawn before she even opens her eyes. When she does, Lexa is struck by how blue they are, and before she can help herself, she’s doing something sappy like lifting her hand to caress Clarke’s cheek. Clarke just smiles warmly at her so Lexa doesn’t even regret it (even though there is some twisted Alpha logic screaming in the back of her head that she shouldn’t be doing this).
“Morning,” Clarke greets, reaching over to press a casual kiss to Lexa’s lips as if that was a thing they did now.
But that kind of is, you idiot, her mind screamed at her. You literally just fucked her.
Lexa ignores that, choosing to focus on the way Clarke snuggles closer into her. Clarke in the morning is soft, so unlike her usual persona that’s always so headstrong and focused, and Lexa decides she likes her this way. This Clarke who currently seems hellbent on stealing as much of Lexa’s warmth as she can.
“Did you sleep well?” Lexa asks, appreciating the lingering kiss Clarke presses to her neck.
Clarke hums. “Yeah, your bed is nice.”
Lexa furrows her brows, strangely concerned. “Is that the only reason?”
Clarke laughs, pulling back to lazily grin at Lexa. “Someone might have worn me out a bit too.”
Lexa smiles, more than a little pleased, her inner Alpha basically preening from the compliment.
And then it hits her.
The gravity of what they’ve just done. It isn’t like Clarke is just her best friend—which is bad enough in its own right—but Clarke is also an Alpha. Things like this aren’t supposed to be happening. Lexa isn’t supposed to enjoy the way Clarke smells, she’s not supposed to love the way Clarke’s bare skin feels against her, she’s not supposed to want to wrap herself around Clarke and stay there for as long as she can.
She tenses immediately and Clarke must feel the way Lexa’s suddenly stiffens because she squeezes Lexa’s side reassuringly, pumping out soothing pheromones.
“Lex, relax, it’s just me.”
Lexa swallows, heart rate accelerating, palms becoming sweaty. “Clarke, this isn’t- We’re not supposed to- Fuck,” she stutters, her natural instinct telling her to run away but her Alpha instinct wanting her to stay and face it head on.
Her Alpha instinct ultimately wins, and she stays where she is, accepting the comfort Clarke is freely offering her.
“I know,” Clarke nods, making no effort to move away either, “but it’s okay.”
Lexa looks at her, takes in the open way Clarke is looking back. The vulnerability she’s sharing with Lexa in this moment that’s so unlike any other Alpha Lexa has ever met. It has her feeling more truthful than she’d like to be.
“I liked it,” Lexa tells her honestly. The shy smile Clarke gives her in return making it worth it.
“Me too.”
Lexa surges forward, but what results is a slow, unhurried kiss. Their lips move languidly against each other and it’s so hard to find anything wrong with this situation when Clarke kisses her like this.
“What do we do now?” Lexa asks, when they’ve pulled away, foreheads pressed to each other’s in a position far more intimate than Lexa could have ever expected from two stubborn Alphas.
Clarke meets her eyes seriously and lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “I think now you should probably take me out on a date. It’s the proper thing to do after all.”
Lexa scoffs, shoving at Clarke playfully when she falls into a fit of laughter, but agrees nonetheless.
They’d be okay, Lexa decides. It would have to be because Lexa has finally gotten a taste of her own life’s forbidden fruit and there’s no way she’d be able to go back to a life of naïveté now. No, now she knew what sin tasted like and she was addicted. Clarke Griffin would surely be the death of her one day, and Lexa finds she doesn’t mind at all.
.