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Bellamy has a December birthday, and Clarke hates it.
She hates the difficulty of coming up with two great gifts in quick succession. Because there’s no way she can just give him a joint gift for both - he’s her closest friend as well as her roommate. She has to do better than that. He deserves to be thoroughly celebrated. And they can’t just be mediocre gifts like paperback history books or fancy coffee. She always wants to give him something from the heart.
That’s totally not because she has a huge, blazing crush on him. It’s totally something she would do for a platonic best friend, too, if she had one.
She sighs, tries to force her eyes to focus on the laptop screen in front of her. Online shopping is not working out for her. All these lists of gift suggestions seem totally… impersonal. She thinks maybe she’ll just admit defeat and go to an antiquarian bookshop, and buy the most obscure and rare bit of Roman literature she can find.
No. She can do better than that. What’s this - fifty gifts for gym goers? Maybe this is the answer she’s been looking for. Maybe this -
“What are you up to?” Bellamy asks, perky and infuriatingly curious, popping through the living room door.
She sighs, slams her laptop lid shut. “Trying to find you a birthday gift. And a Christmas gift. But none of these gift lists have anything good on them, and -”
“That’s where you’re going wrong.” He informs her mildly, flopping onto the couch at her side. “You can’t get a gift from a gift list for someone you’re actually close with. Gift lists are for parents who never talk to their kids any more, or for that weird uncle that all you know about him is he goes fishing.”
“I don’t have a weird uncle who goes fishing.” She points out absently.
“I know. But my point is - they’re not for choosing gifts for people you really know.”
“Then I’m all out of ideas.” She spreads her hands in a hopeless sort of gesture. “I buy you at least one book most years, so I can’t do that again. I already got you membership at the history museum and I adopted that penguin one time.” She ticks off her past successes on her fingers. “Is there another thing like that I could do? Like a membership or an experience?”
“Thirty-one orgasms?” He suggests, tone utterly level, as if that’s a perfectly normal suggestion between friends.
“What?” She meant maybe a zookeeper experience with those damn penguins, or something. Not a sexual experience.
Although, if he’s offering…
“You could gift me thirty-one orgasms because I’m turning thirty-one. You know - like the tweet.”
“What?” She splutters once again, more confused than ever.
“You must have seen it. It’s everywhere. There’s this woman and her best friend gifted her thirty-one orgasms for her thirty-first birthday. It started out as a comeback to some sexist bag of dicks and then it blew up…?” He prompts her, as if she ought to know what the hell he’s talking about.
She shakes her head. She’s only been online to browse for gifts for him for days, now. She really has made a bit of a mission out of it - or perhaps a mountain out of what should have been a molehill.
He bites his lip, his jaw suddenly tense.
“Right. Well. It was a joke.” He tells her, firm.
“Yes. Of course. A joke.” Someone on Twitter had birthday sex with their best friend, once upon a time, but he’s not suggesting they should try to emulate that. He absolutely does not want thirty-one birthday orgasms from his best friend.
Only - now they’re down the rabbit hole, she thinks it’s worth staying until they’ve thoroughly explored the sights.
“It’s just as well you’re joking. I don’t think I could manage it.” She says mildly.
He frowns at her hard, his jaw tenser than ever. “You couldn’t?”
“No. Getting a dick off is harder than getting a clit off, I’m pretty sure. Or - that’s how it always is for me. Maybe my blowjob skills aren’t up to much.”
“I’m sure you’re great.” He says, because of course he does. Because he must always rush to her defence, even if he’s defending her from herself.
She shakes her head. “They’re not bad. But no way could I get you off thirty-one times in a day. And I mean - a guy needs recharge time, right? More than a girl does, I think?”
He nods. Apparently they’re agreed that’s more or less true.
“So - yeah. It’s a good job you were joking because I think I’d probably manage, what, ten at most?”
He cocks his head, apparently considering. “I think you’re selling yourself short. I’m sure you’d get more out of me than that. Or - you know - we could make a sort of joint effort. I could see how many times I can get you to come, too. We could go for thirty-one as a combined total.”
“We might make that. Maybe? I don’t know. But is it even a birthday gift for you if you’re getting me off, too?”
“Yes.” He answers quickly. Too quickly, she thinks - almost as if his response was instinctive.
A beat of silence, thick and sticky. Clarke wishes she still had the laptop open before her like a kind of shield. Is he saying what she thinks he’s saying? Is he honestly suggesting that he doesn’t hate the idea of adding some sex to their friendship - quite a lot of sex, even?
Bellamy clears his throat loudly. “I mean - that is - it’s never a hardship to have good sex, is it?” He asks, but apparently the question is rhetorical as he presses on. “And - you know - you’re you and if you offered to spend my birthday having sex with me I wouldn’t say no.”
“OK then.”
That’s all the answer she needs to give, she thinks. It’s not complicated, is it? She and Bellamy have been talking in circles for the last couple of minutes, yes. But now she’s simply saying she’s game for some birthday sex.
Apparently he does not agree.
“OK?” He asks, as if he doesn’t understand.
“Yeah. Sure. Let’s have birthday sex. I mean - I’m going to give you a real gift too, obviously. But if you’d honestly enjoy a thirty-one orgasm challenge with me, I’m in.”
“You are?”
She frowns. He really is asking a lot of questions today.
“Yes.” She tells him simply, firmly, her hand coming to rest on his knee in what she hopes is a quelling sort of gesture.
Another pause. She looks at him, eyes narrowed, trying to study his face. There’s something in his gaze she hasn’t quite understood, she thinks.
Again, it’s Bellamy who breaks the silence.
“And - what if I want to ask for sex as not a birthday present?” He asks.
She frowns. “You mean - as a Christmas present instead? Or - as not a gift at all? As something we just do?”
He nods and swallows, both at once, his throat bobbing in time with the motion of his head.
She leaps at him. There’s no other way to describe it. She simply dives across the couch, her arms outstretched, her lips colliding with his.
He catches her, and then some. He rises to her challenge, meets her lips and kisses her back urgently, eagerly. His hands are everywhere, already - or that’s what it feels like. One is tangling in her hair, cupping the back of her head, stroking her neck. The other is exploring her waist and hips and back.
“This alright?” She whispers the question into the kiss.
He only groans in response, but that’s all the answer she needed.
She keeps kissing him, starts exploring with her hands in turn. She runs one through his curls, and as far as his jaw, cupping it with a tenderness which surprises even herself amidst this pretty messy, urgent kiss. And it has Bellamy giving a shocked, shaky sigh, so she counts that as a win.
Then he starts speaking, and it gets even better.
“I want your first one here.” He tells her. “I want you to get yourself off right here on the couch, grinding on my leg. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about that.”
She pulls back, looks him in the eye. “You’ve been wanting this just like I have?”
“I’ve been wanting this - but I think we wanted it in different ways.” He gives a tense little laugh. “Every time we would sit here and watch TV together I’d dream of just grabbing you and sitting you on my lap and having you get yourself off on my thigh.”
She gives that serious consideration, because she’s a serious sort of woman. “We should do that some time. But you’re right - I mostly thought about your face.”
“My face?”
“Yeah. Kissing it. Touching it. Having it between my legs. All of the good things, you know?”
He laughs. “You can get it between your legs for number two. Come on - get comfy.”
She doesn’t get comfy at all. She quickly gets very uncomfy, straddling his thigh, sitting just so with the seam of her jeans pressing into her clit.
It’s not going to take much to earn this first one. She’s already half way there from the kissing and the sheer excitement. As she starts rocking her hips, grinding against the firm muscle of his leg, she knows this is going to be over soon.
Or rather - their race to thirty-one will just be beginning.
He helps her out, now grabbing at her hips to keep her moving, now palming her breasts through her clothes and bra. She wants more - or perhaps needs more - but she knows they’ll get there later. She knows she’ll have the chance to get his hands everywhere before they’re through. For now, this is enough.
She moans into his mouth as she comes. It’s just a small one, but no less beautiful for all that as it ripples through her. At least it leaves her still wanting more, still keen for the thirty yet to come.
She decides very suddenly that they should have agreed on a plan before they got started. It’s not like her to get carried away with excitement like this. Bellamy always has been the only person who can bring out her more spontaneous - or irrational - side.
“Are we really trying for thirty-one today?” She asks.
He nods, chuckling lightly. “We might as well, right? It’s a Saturday afternoon. What have we got to lose? We can always go over into tomorrow and call it a twenty-four hour challenge.”
“Great. OK. Thirty left to go.”
“Can I take you to bed for the next couple?” He suggests.
“Yeah. Sure. But I’m getting your face between my legs next.” She reminds him.
“Yes, Clarke.” He agrees, with a little mock-pout.
Damn it. She knows that’s a joke. But there’s some part of her that likes the idea of him following her orders in bed all the same.
Hmm. Maybe that’s one to explore later. The last sex joke he made turned out to be very much founded in truth, didn’t it? Maybe there’s something to unpack here, too.
He carries her to the bed. He simply scoops her up and carries her, as if that’s a perfectly normal thing to do. As if he’s already feeling some sort of possessive attachment to her, when they only admitted to seeing each other in this light a few short minutes ago.
She likes it. She likes the implication of it - that he might love her almost as much as she loves him. That perhaps she’s not alone, here, in having a huge crush on her best friend.
He sets her down on the bed, and clothes start to fly. Not literally, perhaps - it’s not easy to undress someone smoothly and spontaneously whilst kissing and rolling over a bed. But there’s definitely a sort of airborne urgency to their actions, as they pull clothes off with desperate speed and toss them aside in random directions.
Clarke wonders what the dress code for the next twenty-four hours will be. Will they stay naked all that time, just to make sex easier? She certainly wouldn’t complain about that. Bellamy is gorgeous naked, it turns out. She always suspected he would be, of course. But it’s good to have it confirmed - and even better to run her hands over his taut muscle and soft skin.
“You OK there?” He asks her, teasing, as she touches him.
She grins sheepishly. “I like touching you.” She dares to admit.
She expects another tease for that. She knows Bellamy - he’s always joking around to lift people’s spirits.
But he can be kind and soft-hearted, too, and that’s the side he chooses to show now as he simply hugs her tight and presses a kiss to the crown of her head.
“Me too.” He whispers. “But we have all the time in the world for that, and last thing I knew you were impatient to get my face on your pussy.”
She laughs. “Yeah. True. But - can I touch you at the same time?”
They figure it out quite easily, in the end. She lies flat on her back, and he is above her, facing the other way, his lips already meeting her cunt. It’s a position which has his cock dangling in her face, of course, so she takes the hint and starts sucking him off softly. She takes the chance to keep touching him, too, running her hands over his back and as far as his shoulders. She simply can’t get enough of him, after all these years waiting and wondering and wishing.
He groans as she takes his cock into her mouth, so she tries harder. She takes him as deep as she can, choking him down. He doesn’t have the biggest cock in the world, probably. Scientifically speaking, she’s pretty sure that’s a fact. But it’s the biggest one she’s spent time with recently, and she’s struggling to take him all down her throat.
He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He doesn’t seem disappointed in her oral skills at all. He’s moaning and groaning like this is the best blowjob of his life.
She comes first - or second, of course, because she’s already had one. This one is better than the last, fuller and more all-consuming. It helps, she thinks, that she’s got her mouth on Bellamy at the same time. In fact, he groans against her pussy as she comes, and she can’t figure out whether he’s that turned on by the sensation of her coming against his face, or whether she’s doing something particularly good with her mouth at the same time.
She thinks it’s probably the first. She goes pretty slack and unfocussed around his cock while she’s coming.
The moment she comes down from her orgasm, he’s moving. He’s shifting his cock away from her mouth, turning round so his hips are hovering over hers, reaching for a condom along the way.
“You good?” He asks, grinning like he already knows the answer. “How was number two?”
“Better than number one. You want to make it a nice lucky three?”
“Just think - when we get to three, we’ll be almost a tenth of the way there.”
“And if you get off, too, we’ll be over an eighth of the way there.”
“Dork.” He teases her affectionately.
“You started it.”
“You -”
They give up on bickering and start kissing instead. Clarke likes it - she likes the easy give and take between their usual lively chatter and these deep, needy kisses.
Most of all she likes lying here beneath Bellamy and feeling small in the best possible way. Yes, she’s a confident woman who likes to take the lead in life - and quite often in bed. But there’s something delicious, just for a change, about lying here with his strong body completely covering hers.
She wonders how many other aspects of sex they’re going to get to explore today. How many other positions, acts, combinations. How many toys they might get out to play with together, even, and how many -
“Fuck.” Bellamy swears, loud and breathless, right next to her ear.
“Is that a good fuck or a bad fuck?” She asks, because it’s not altogether clear.
“The best fuck of my life.” He tells her, on a breathy laugh.
Right. Well. She supposes that’s encouraging, probably.
“But - I’m going to come soon.” Bellamy clarifies, and now she thinks she has some idea what the hell is going on.
“That’s good.” She reminds him, because it is. “We’ve got a target to reach, right? And I’ve already come twice. So go for it. No need to hold back.”
All the same, he reaches a hand down to tease at her clit. Of course he does. He’s Bellamy.
She brushes him aside and tries to urge him, silently, to concentrate on the moment and not worry about her. She kisses him deeply, eagerly, her hands running over his back and butt all the while.
He’s there. He’s coming with the loudest groan, slumping for a moment against her chest.
“Good?” She asks, because that seems like the polite thing to do. But really, she knows he’s good, and she’s feeling pretty damn smug about all this.
“Great. Perfect.” He huffs out a sigh. “OK. Hang on. I got you.”
He rolls away, reaches in with his hand instead. He coaxes her with his fingers to one more orgasm, his lips against her neck and breasts all the while.
This one is the best so far, and she tells him so.
“Thanks.” He says, smirking. Honestly, she’s not sure she’s ever seen him so obviously happy.
“Any time. So - four down, twenty-seven to go?”
He laughs, pulls her in for a hug. “Does it matter if we don’t manage all thirty-one? Shall we just… enjoy this and see where it goes?”
She finds herself smiling a little at that. She could swear that, not so long ago, this was all Bellamy’s idea. That he claimed to be keen to push for the target and see if they could meet the challenge. But now he’s actually got her in his bed, he’s happy to relax and see where the day takes them?
Hmm. Yes. She thinks he might be quite fond of her after all.
…….
They tick the next few off easily. Number five is a lazy handjob for Bellamy on the couch, about an hour later, while the two of them watch a movie together. Not so long after that, he insists on returning the favour.
Number seven is a little bolder - Clarke on her knees in the kitchen while Bellamy stirs their supper. She distracts him a little, and he learns that pasta sauce can burn.
Is it wrong, that she takes that as a victory?
Eight and nine are easy, too. She sits in his lap on the couch and rides her way to one more for each of them.
But then it starts to get a bit trickier. By bed time she’s exhausted, honestly. They’re not even a third of the way there yet, and already she’s feeling done for the day.
It’s the strangest thing. She still has the hots for Bellamy to a serious degree. She still feels arousal flare every time he touches her - or even looks at her funny, to be honest. But she’s so thoroughly satisfied, now, that it’s a real struggle to feel any kind of urgency.
“Can we do something slow and cuddly?” She asks, because that seems like the only solution, here. “I’m pretty tired.”
He smirks at her. “Did I wear you out?”
She snorts out a laugh. “Bellamy. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not exhausted.”
“OK. I might be a little tired.” He concedes. “But it’s nothing personal. You’re still gorgeous. I just - I never realised how difficult having sex - what? - ten or more times in one day would be.”
She groans. “Me neither. And we were doing so well, with four in that first round.”
“Hey. Hey, it doesn’t matter.” He reaches for her, pulls her into a firm hug and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “This isn’t about the sex for me really. You have to have figured that out by now. So if you just want to come sleep in my bed tonight and have a cuddle…?”
“I’d like that.” She admits. “But - I think I do want us to do something sexy, if you’re up for it. Sex with you is pretty fun. And - somehow I haven’t got myself convinced yet that this will still be on the table tomorrow.”
“It will. I promise. My body is all yours for as long as you want it.” He swallows, suddenly looking away. “My heart, too, if you’re interested.”
She sighs a little. Typical Bellamy. He always values himself too lightly. As if anyone would not be interested in his beautiful, generous heart.
She reaches for his jaw, steers his face back to her until she can meet his gaze. It’s a little like the way she cupped his face earlier, she thinks - there’s all that tenderness here this time round, but there’s also a whole new level of intimacy.
“I love you.” She tells him, solemn and clear. “So - yes. Interested. Definitely interested.”
His smile stretches right across his face. “I love you, too. Great. So - I love you sex? There’s no way we can let that go uncelebrated.”
She laughs. “Sure. I love you sex. But something slow and easy, and then we’re falling asleep together.”
“Damn right we are. We’re sleeping together every night for the rest of our lives, now.” He tells her.
Honestly? She believes him. Bellamy doesn’t take love lightly.
Ten and eleven aren’t so difficult, in the end. The two of them hold each other close, make love slowly against warm sheets. Clarke comes with her face pressed into the soft skin and firm muscle of Bellamy’s neck.
That’s a third of the way there, now. More than a third.
Clarke doesn’t care, to be honest. All her life she’s been a person who keeps count, and plans, and cares about progress and schedules.
But tonight she’s just happy, and she likes it that way.
…….
Clarke wakes up before Bellamy, the next morning. She’s glad for that stroke of good luck. It gives her time to hop out of bed, put on a cute outfit of bra and crotchless panties, and then come back to wake him up with sleepy kisses.
Yes - she knows the outfit isn’t necessary. But it’s fun, and she suspects Bellamy might appreciate it.
Sure enough, he groans as his eyes flicker open and he takes in the sight of her.
Then, of all things, he starts laughing.
“What?” She asks, almost a little worried. He definitely said he loved her, yesterday. But is he laughing now at the sight of her naked?
He shakes his head. “Sorry. For a moment there I was a bit confused. Thought I was dreaming or something. Then I remembered what happened yesterday.”
She doesn’t laugh at him. Rather she finds herself smiling down at him softly, because she understands everything he didn’t say, there. She understands that he’s struggling to adjust to such a major change in the way things lie between them, that it all feels too good to be true.
She understands, because that’s how she feels, too.
“You good?” She asks him gently. “Do you want to go for numbers twelve through thirty-one? Or do you need a moment to catch up with yourself?”
“I’m good.” He answers right away. “You look gorgeous. This was one hell of a surprise to wake up to.”
She finds herself grinning down at him for that. She finds herself leaning in for more kisses, too, keen to get started with her morning seduction.
Bellamy doesn’t quite let her stick to her plan, though. He doesn’t just lie there and take it, doesn’t let her make a fuss of him exactly how she intended. Instead, he’s arching up off the mattress to meet her, reaching for her with his hands at the same time.
She’s not complaining. It’s good to feel so purely wanted.
It’s funny, she thinks, as they keep kissing. All these years she was convinced that Bellamy loved her only as a friend, that he didn’t desire her quite like this as well. But she was totally and resoundingly wrong - she can see that now. She’s always thought of Bellamy as a person who wears his heart on his sleeve - that’s why she presumed he wasn’t interested.
But apparently, he must have felt so unworthy that he managed to hide his feelings. That’s the only way she can make sense of it - his insecurity and desperation to protect himself, tangling together.
Maybe that’s something they ought to talk about, another time, when their mouths aren’t otherwise occupied.
For now, though, it’s time for the next part of her plan. She pulls away from the kiss - although Bellamy protests, of course, and tries to follow her as she goes.
But then he seems to sense what she’s doing and subsides. He waits beneath her, patiently, as she puts a condom on him and then eases herself down onto his erection.
She starts rocking slowly, playfully, trying to get a feel for what he likes. He’s so expressive in bed - all moans and groans and breathy sighs. She likes that. Apart from anything else, it gives her confidence that she’s getting this right for him.
But then, all at once, he’s reaching around her.
“What are you doing?” She asks, puzzled.
“Bra.” He says simply, as if that ought to be obvious.
Right. Well. OK then. He does seem quite fond of her tits - she noticed that yesterday. And she likes having him play with them, so she’s not going to argue. In fact, she leans forward to grant him easier access as he unclips her bra and tosses it aside.
Hmm. That was a cute bra, for the record. She chose it for a reason. But if he thinks she looks cuter without it, then so be it.
She thinks he looks pretty damn cute with his hands on her tits, so it’s a sacrifice she’s willing to make.
He doesn’t just reach for them with his hands today, though. All at once he’s curling up off the bed, getting his mouth on one nipple and suckling gently.
She gasps, loud and shocked - but in a good way. It feels so good, and it looks even better. As she peers down at him, she gets the most beautiful visual of his lips latched around her nipple.
She’s always been turned on by the visual aspects of sex. She is an artist, after all. So this shouldn’t come as a shock to her, right? But somehow she finds herself shocked by just how much it turns her on. She’s seen Bellamy before, and she’s seen tits before. But it turns out this is a very special combination.
“That’s good.” She tells him.
No. That’s not enough. She can do better than that, can tell him how perfect he is to her in this moment.
“You look gorgeous there. Suits you.” She tries instead.
Yes. That’s better. It’s a more honest and full compliment, but it’s also like their usual teasing, and she likes that. She wants them still to be Bellamy and Clarke in the bedroom, still to be best friends all the rest of their lives.
She only hopes they’ll keep sleeping together all that time, too.
Bellamy’s groaning against her breasts. She’s not sure why. Is it because he gets off on this, too? Or is it because she’s taking longer strokes with her hips, now, coaxing them both closer to the edge?
She can’t wait to find out everything about him, in the years to come.
For now, though, she’s close. All this staring at his face on her tits is driving her mad. So it is that she takes a few last strokes, then sinks down against his hips, seeking every scrap of pressure as she tips over the edge.
It’s a good orgasm, for the record. She rates it better than number nine, but perhaps not quite as good as number ten.
Bellamy’s not far behind her, bucking his hips right up off the bed for those last couple of strokes. One day, she thinks, she’s going to make him do that. She’s just going to sit still, above him, and get him to make a show of his strength.
One day, they’re going to try everything together.
Today, though, is not that day. They still have eighteen orgasms left to worry about, by her reckoning. They’ve only managed thirteen so far.
That’s why she wastes no time in climbing off him and settling down at his side for a hug.
“What next?” She asks brightly. “Do you want to nap a bit longer and then we try something new? What haven’t we done yet that you’re into? How do you feel about anal?”
“It can be a good thing. But honestly, it’s not what I want to do this morning.” He tells her, hugging her tight.
“What do you want to do then?”
He sighs. “Really? I want to take you out for brunch. The sex is great - please don’t doubt that. But - that’s not all I want seeing as - you know - we’re together now. Seeing as we love each other. I’ve been wishing I could take you out for a proper date for years. I learned how much I love spending time with you long before I even thought about fucking you. So - brunch? Please?”
“Brunch.” She agrees, without a moment’s hesitation. “You’re so right. It sounds perfect. But I guess I thought you really were into this thirty-one orgasms thing. And... I know you used to have a lot of casual sex when you were younger. I guess I have this idea that you have some huge sex drive I have to satisfy.”
He laughs. “No. We’re good. Believe me - I’m more than satisfied. Maybe we can try for thirty-one this month or something instead?”
Her turn to laugh, louder and brighter. “No. No way. We can do better than that. We’re already at thirteen. We can do more than thirty-one in a month.”
“Or maybe it just doesn’t matter. Maybe we should just fuck whenever we feel like it.”
“Careful. If we fuck whenever we feel like it, pretty sure I’ll be wanting to do it all the time.”
More laughter. She likes that - there’s something special and joyful about getting together with her best friend.
“So - brunch?” Bellamy asks, starting to sit up in the bed.
“Brunch. On one condition - we spend the time talking about what the hell I’m going to get you for your birthday and Christmas. Because apparently thirty-one orgasms isn’t going to cut it.”
Bellamy is standing up, now, stretching and heading towards the shower, she presumes. He’s nearly at the bedroom door when he stops and tosses his last words over his shoulder.
“Come on, Clarke. It’s easier now. You’ve got the whole wide world of couple’s gifts and sex toys and lingerie to choose from.”
And on that well-chosen, mind-blowing note, he walks clean out the door.