Chapter Text
Clarke glanced up at the clock for the third time. 12:17p.m.
The seconds had seemed to tick by at a leisurely pace ever since she’d set foot in the classroom, late as she was. It made the few hours that had passed feel more like days. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being here. Normally, the smell of paints and the sight of empty canvases filled her with a great anticipation for what the day would bring.
But today, she wasn’t here to teach art, or even do her own work. Today was an in-service day, the first of many, where teachers had to undergo annual district-mandated trainings that never failed to bore her to tears. She was already worn out by the the numerous papers scattered across her desk. It seemed like every year there was something new to sign for the school district.
Nothing says happy Monday like paperwork, she thought ruefully. Then her eyes drifted to the empty purple coffee mug sitting next to her folders. Keep Calm and Pretend It’s On the Lesson Plan. She smiled to herself. The gift was from Bellamy, of course, who had also been the main reason she was late this morning. With good reason.
Her legs clamped together at the thought of how she’d woken to his head between her thighs, that far too clever tongue teasing and torturing until she was calling his name so loudly their neighbors down the block might have heard. And if that hadn’t been enough, he’d then slid into her and set a slow, lazy pace that set her nerves on fire, kissing her like they had all the time in the world.
They were both particularly fond of using their new bed, as it turned out. It was the first major purchase either had ever made - and together, no less. Along with the pillows and blankets and the duvet - yes, she’d insisted on the duvet - it was entirely theirs, and just the sight of its neatly made corners - her husband’s doing, of course - made her smile every night.
So what if they’d maybe taken to it a little too eagerly for their neighbors’ liking now and then? As Bellamy liked to remind her, they were moving in less than a month’s time; the others would survive a measly three weeks. And at least the springs on this mattress didn’t squeak - a fact Clarke liked to take full advantage of whenever she roused in the middle of the night wrapped around Bellamy’s solid form. The familiar stirring low in her body was usually not far behind. Which was usually how she woke up the following morning with even fewer clothes on than she’d worn to bed, and Bellamy already wide awake, easing her out of sleep with rough words against her ear and caresses along her spine that made her want all over again.
In any case, that was one of many reasons she had nearly been late to work this morning-- but entirely worth it, in her opinion.
She was still sitting there a few minutes later with a foolish grin, pen frozen above paper, when a knock at her open door startled her out of it. Her husband stood in the doorway, boyishly charming in his flannel button-up and jeans, that beloved lopsided smile firmly in place.
“Hey princess.”
“Hi!” Clarke let out a happy laugh as Bellamy strode inside, rounding her desk to lift her out of her chair into a bear hug. “What are you doing here?”
"Visiting my wife, of course."
She felt his smile all the way to her toes. That, and the rasp of stubble on his jaw as he nuzzled her cheek. She giggled - partly from giddiness and partly to cover up the sparks it sent through her frame.
"Can't argue with that," she sighed.
“Brought you lunch from the deli,” Bellamy murmured. His in-service days had come and gone last week. He’d just taken an extra day off to continue packing his books oh so carefully. “And I thought you could use a pick me up.”
“You already gave me several pick me ups this morning, if I remember correctly.”
Chuckling, he set his backpack down on the floor. “You complaining?” The grin on his face was far too cheeky, and she’d just started to register the wicked glint in his eyes when he stepped away to lock the classroom door.
“Bellamy…” The words got stuck in her throat as he crossed the room in a few long strides, pointedly shuttering the blinds on her single window. Her pulse entered a gallop. Oh god. I’m in so much trouble.
Bellamy took her into his arms, his lips descending onto hers. It was soft and warm and patient, and within seconds Clarke was sighing and opening up to him, her hands sinking into his tousled hair. Even when his tongue passed her lips, he kept the pace slow and gentle, every touch a caress until she was trembling.
She knew exactly what he was doing.
It wasn’t like she’d never thought about this. First off, she was only human, and secondly, her best friend was also her husband, and said man in question was Bellamy Blake, so, yeah, semi-public sex was most definitely a fantasy. And neither of them had made any secret of it, especially back in grad school where his talented hands had gotten her off between the bookshelves more than once, his mouth swallowing all her gasps, or when she’d gone down on him outside of the newly-built science building when they were a bit tipsy and yeah, he’d sort of dared her, but what followed had been some quite spectacular bent-over-the-kitchen table sex, and so it was definitely a thing now.
Being married hadn’t necessarily changed that, aside from the fact that age now determined how willing their bodies were to contort to fit into cramped spaces, but, still- they'd gotten creative. Which, frankly, resulted in a hell of a lot of teasing in his truck until Bellamy finally gave in and installed tinted windows. It was on one of those long drives that he had coaxed this particular daydream out of her, having gotten her naked and panting beneath him on the open flatbed, parked in the middle of nowhere. Her mind hazy with need, the words had spilled from her lips a little too easily, only consumed by the thought of her own pleasure at the moment.
Still, Clarke had never actually thought he’d go through with it.
She shivered at the thought, and Bellamy smiled where his lips were busy sucking at her pulse. His large hands smoothed over the simple black dress she’d put on just that morning - with no help from him - before slipping underneath the hem. Her fingers tightened where they clutched his shoulders, a small whimper escaping her mouth as his knuckles grazed her skin.
He lifted his head briefly, those kissable lips twisting into a smirk. “As much as I hate to say it, you’ll have to be quiet, princess. Can’t have everyone knowing what’s going on, right?”
She stared back into his molten eyes, her body already responding to the promise in his voice. “Yeah, o-okay,” she whispered, nodding frantically.
Bellamy kissed her again, and this time he took her mouth hungrily, swallowing her moans as she pressed against him. Clarke stretched to her tiptoes - not so difficult thanks to her heels - and kissed him back just as fiercely until he began to walk her backwards. When she hit the edge of the desk, she immediately slid onto it, pulling him to stand between her legs.
But his hands covered hers when she tugged at his shirt, pressing them against the desk instead. “This is about you,” he murmured. She protested, trying to say all she wanted was him, but then his fingers were at the back zipper of her dress, easing it down enough to push the fabric to her waist. Bellamy took his time drinking her in, even though he’d watched her put on the pale blue bra just hours before. Not for the first time, Clarke wondered how he did it - every time he looked at her like that, she felt like they were the only two people in the world.
Just as he was leaning in again, her cellphone rang.
Clarke jumped in surprise but hurriedly locked her legs around his hips. “Don’t you dare stop,” she said, and he laughed softly.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
As her phone continued to ring, Bellamy licked a path along the swell of her breast, his thumb grazing over the cup of her bra and making her back arch. She threaded her hands into his hair, sighing when the phone finally stopped.
Only to have her desk phone begin ringing. “Seriously?” She swore, feeling Bellamy’s mouth curl up. Leaning over, she was about to end the call when she saw the ID. “Damnit,” she groaned. He looked up at the defeat in her voice.
“What is it?” His voice dipped lower than usual, taking on a gravelly tone that made her toes curl.
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of this student’s mom for days, and she chooses now to call me back,” she all but growled. With a sigh, she kissed him apologetically. “I have to take this.”
Leaning over, she yanked the phone off the receiver with a little more force than necessary. “Hello, this is Mrs. Blake.” The name never failed to Bellamy smile radiantly. “Yes, Mrs. Tellerman, hi. Thanks for returning my call. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
She began fumbling to pull her dress up, only to have Bellamy stop her. Looking up in confusion, she found him smirking wickedly. Then he hooked a finger around both bra straps, dragging them down and freeing her breasts. Her nipples stiffened in the cool air, and when his thumb brushed teasingly over one she had to put a hand over her mouth, her legs squeezing his hips.
Stop that! She mouthed.
He only smirked and did it again. Clarke hung onto his arm, her nails digging into his skin as she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
“C-could you hold on for a second, please?” Her brain was scrambled. “I’m just getting in, but I really want to follow up about Maggie’s progress. Thanks.” With shaking fingers, she pressed the ‘hold’ button on her phone, setting the receiver back in its cradle.
Turning to scold Bellamy, she could only moan when he began to roll and pinch her nipples without warning.
“Shit shit shit,” she pressed her mouth to his as all her blood ran south, heat gathering rapidly between her thighs. “Bellamy, I can’t-”
“But you can,” he murmured, all the while still palming her breasts and nearly making her eyes roll back. “Take the call, Clarke.” His eyebrows wiggled. “Put it on speaker.”
Her laugh was half-astonished, half-aroused. “Are you crazy?”
“Maybe a little. But I trust you to be quiet,” he grinned and bent to nip at her earlobe. “Just like you trusted me. Remember?”
Oh god. She absolutely did remember, the way she’d taken him deep in her mouth while he was trying to discuss something with Miller, the spectacular wall fucking that had occurred afterwards, their burnt dinner and the way the pizza delivery guy had needed just one look at their faces and sex hair to blush as red as his beard…
So this was payback now. Smirking, Bellamy repeated, “Take the call.”
She was shaking her head in protest, trying to shove him away, when he reached out and pressed the button for her. Clarke shot him a murderous glare even as the voice filtered through the speaker. “Mrs. Blake?”
Bellamy hummed low against her neck before languidly tracing her earlobe with his tongue. Yeah, he loved the sound of that.
“Yes, I’m here. Sorry about that.” Shit, she had to do something about her breathy voice.
“Not a problem. So sorry it took me this long to return your call, the kids and I were on vacation and then my husband had to travel for work and I was taking Maggie to the hospital for her follow-ups, and you know how things get--”
Bellamy’s mouth dragged slowly down her chest, alternately licking and nibbling the sensitive skin. The short, coarse hairs on his cheeks were leaving a fiery trail that made her shake.
“Right, right I understand,” Clarke paused, shoving her fingers into her mouth as Bellamy’s tongue flicked over her nipple. He grinned, pleased at her reaction, and latched onto her breast, laving the stiff peak. “W-well, Maggie’s, ah, she’s been keeping up well so far.” Her back curved helplessly.
“That’s a relief to hear. Mrs. Blake, you sound odd, are you alright?”
“Fine,” she managed. Bellamy’s smirk was far too self-satisfied as he switched to her other breast, enveloping the nipple into his hot mouth and sucking gently. Clarke barely stifled her whimper by biting his shoulder, her hips rolling against his. “J-just finding her latest assignment.”
Mrs. Tellerman’s voice droned on as Bellamy dropped kisses down her belly before rucking her dress up and over her thighs. His fingers ran lightly up and down her legs, teasingly getting closer to the center each time but then pulling back. Clarke wasn’t sure if she wanted to kill him or kiss him. The other woman’s voice brought her back to the present.
“... spoke to my husband and I think she’ll be ready to come back full-time, to get back into the routine of things.”
Bellamy dragged her to the edge of the desk, easing her underwear off. Oh fuck. Get off the phone, now now now.
“That’s great news,” she said shakily. “I’ll be sure to keep you posted of her progress. We can speak again at the open house.” Her hands twisted into Bellamy’s hair as he knelt, spreading her legs wide. He raised a single devious eyebrow at her.
“That would be fantastic. And thank you so much again for being such a help, Mrs. Blake. Maggie adores you.”
Bellamy paused to send her a brilliant smile, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. She loosened her grip a little, fingers carding through the unruly curls at his forehead, and he turned his head to kiss her wrist just as gently.
“Of course. She’s a great kid,” Clarke responded genuinely. “Tell her I said hello.”
“I will, absolutely. Have a great rest of your day!”
Her dear husband chose that moment to lick a stripe up her folds, and Clarke nearly cursed and moaned all at once, shoving her face into the crook of her elbow. Bellamy squeezed her hips where his hands were firmly splayed. Quiet, he mouthed.
Fuck you, she mouthed back. He grinned.
“Goodbye,” she managed, and smacked the phone repeatedly until she heard a dial tone, then switched it off. “God, I’m going to kill you, Bell,” she moaned brokenly.
“Liar. You enjoyed that.” He punctuated it by putting his mouth on her again, making the most obscene sounds as he lapped up evidence of just how much she had enjoyed it. She was too far gone to care, desperately curling over him as her hips greedily rocked upwards.
“Please, Bellamy,” she begged. A pained noise escaped him and he complied, easing two fingers inside her. Clarke bit her lip to keep from crying out, feeling the tension coil wonderfully deep in the pit of her stomach. Her hands twisted into his hair, scraping his neck as she tried to pull him closer, wantonly opening her legs wider. Bellamy swore and increased his pace as her muscles began to spasm. His lips closed over her clit, sucking hard as his fingers continued pumping.
Her breath hitched and faltered as the pleasure spiraled to an almost unbearable peak, and then she was all but using his face, grinding her hips hard as she leaned back, eyes fixated on the flickering ceiling lights. She came apart with a hand fitted tightly over her mouth, catching the noises that she just couldn’t keep contained as the orgasm crashed through her. Bellamy lingered, softly licking at her release and murmuring into her skin until finally she dragged him up by the hair, crushing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss.
His lips were slick and wet with her, and it made heat spiral through all over again, the familiar throb settling back into her body. Still shaking a little, she collapsed against his chest, winding her arms around his back as she caught her breath.
Bellamy kissed her damp forehead, his hands unfailingly gentle as he straightened out her clothes. “I promise I did actually bring you food too,” he grinned.
She mumbled something incoherent, feeling his chest rumble in a laugh. Then she realized what he was doing and pushed his hands away from where they were tugging her dress back on. Before he could protest, she brought his head back down, wasting no time licking past his lips to explore the hot cavern of his mouth. Her legs rounded his waist, purposely rocking forward against the hard length straining against his jeans. His groan vibrated deeply against her lips, his fingers flexing uncontrollably where they dug into her thighs.
“Clarke--”
“I have fifteen minutes left in my lunch hour,” she breathed, hands slipping under his shirt. His head dropped to her shoulder as her nails raked over his pectorals. “Pretty sure we can beat that time,” she grinned, nipping his ear.
“Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe.”
Clarke made quick work of his belt, shoving his zipper down and eagerly closing her fingers over his length. Bellamy’s hand slapped against the desk as he pushed into her palm with a helpless moan. She hummed, her teeth flashing over his pulse as she continued to pump him almost lazily. Bellamy planted a dizzying kiss on her lips, a hand fisting in her hair as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth. Heat slid down her spine again. Gasping, Clarke added a twist to her wrist, grinning smugly when his whole body gave a jerk.
Then his hand covered hers. “Wait,” he said hoarsely. “I need- I want to be inside you.”
She nodded, but surprised him by putting her hands on his chest to make him step back. He watched curiously as she kicked off her heels and hopped off. Turning, she glanced over her shoulder with a coy grin, and purposely put her mug on the floor before bending over the dark wood.
“Fuck.” Bellamy drew a hand over his face and crowded her close almost instantly, a hand sweeping aside her hair so his mouth could latch onto the curve of her neck. He lifted her dress to her waist, caressing the swell of her ass and cursing when her legs parted. Clarke wiggled back against him, her laugh turning into a choked off moan when he thrust two fingers deep inside her. Her walls clenched instantly, drawing pained groans from both of them.
“Bellamy,” she begged, “hurry up.”
He withdrew his fingers, and before she could whine at the emptiness, his thick cock was replacing them. Clarke shoved her face into her arms, shuddering at the sensation of being filled and stretched so deliciously. Bellamy’s hands gripped her waist, his breaths coming shallow. And yet, he remained still for long enough that she nearly cried.
“Damnit Bell, do something, we haven’t got all--”
He drew out and crashed back into her so hard she nearly screamed, biting her palm at the last second. A heavy arm wrapped around her front, and then his breath warmed her skin as he pounded into her, each thrust somehow deeper than the last. The edge of the desk cut into the tops of her thighs, but it wasn’t painful, just another thing to add to her adrenaline-filled memories. Clarke pushed back against each of his thrusts, feeling the tension coil wonderfully in her cunt, heightened by the urgent sounds Bellamy was making behind her.
Then his hand shifted downwards, ghosting over her clit, and she let out a whimper at the shock of pleasure that jolted through her. She knocked Bellamy’s hand aside in her haste, rubbing desperate circles over the sensitive bud of nerves.
“That’s it, baby, touch yourself for me,” Bellamy groaned. “Fuck, you know how hot that is?”
She couldn't reply, having lost all coherent thought. The low timbre of his voice was what unraveled her completely, and she could only press her face into her arms, her breaths hitchy and uncontrolled as she came apart with a small cry. Bellamy stilled, burying himself deeply, murmuring encouragement into her skin until she sagged, utterly spent. Then his hips began to snap into hers more recklessly, and soon he was spilling hot and heavy inside her, his groan muffled against her back.
The metal of the desk was cool against Clarke's forehead as she caught her breath, her chest rising and falling as her lungs attempted to regain normal function. The uneven puffs of air on her skin indicated Bellamy was doing the same, with very little success, even though his hands were soothing along her sides in an attempt to calm her. She smiled and slumped even further, feeling Bellamy’s low chuckle as he kissed her shoulder. He drew out a minute later, pulling her dress down with a gentle hand and turning her to sit on the desk while he fixed his own clothes.
Giggling, Clarke reached out to pat down his messy hair, trying to resist the urge to just tug him closer all over again.
“Good thing you have an eternal bedhead,” she grinned. “Otherwise everyone would know what just happened.”
He winked. “Can’t say the same for you. Might want to use that little mirror to fix up your hair before the next meeting.”
“Oh god.” She took a few wobbly steps to dig around in her purse, eyes widening when she caught sight of her wild hair in the compact. “Nothing’s going to save this,” she decided, yanking it into a ponytail.
He wrapped his arms around her. “For what it’s worth, I was a fan.”
“Of course you were.” Sighing, she leaned back into his embrace. She still had a few minutes, after all. “I’m glad I saved the mug,” she murmured absently.
Bellamy laughed and nuzzled his face into the hollow of her neck. “I would have bought you another one.”
“Yeah, but it’s about nostalgia. I’ve had this in every classroom since I started teaching, you know that.”
“I know,” he whispered warmly.
She hummed and shifted a little, making a face when the stickiness between her thighs became too much to ignore. “I should go use the restroom before this next session.”
“Okay.” He kissed her forehead before fishing a small box out of his backpack. “Make sure you eat. Now you can’t pretend you were too busy to skip lunch.”
She shoved his shoulder as he grinned, but took the box anyways. “Same goes for you. I know where you live.”
Bellamy gave her a mock salute. “Scout’s honor. Oh, also, I found one of your old portfolios from grad school. I was thinking we could use it to transport some of your artwork to the house. It might take a couple trips, but it’s better than it getting crushed during the actual move.”
“That’d be great, Bell. Thanks.” She leaned up for a light kiss, squeaking when he hooked an arm around her waist to pull her flush against him.
“I was also thinking… we should get a desk like this for the new home office.”
He was laughing as she shoved him out the door, a furious blush rising in her cheeks. He kissed her one more time. With a wink and a flash of his crooked smile, he began walking backwards down the hall.
“Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking it too,” he called.
Clarke grinned to herself and leaned against the doorframe a moment longer. Yeah, she totally was.