It's just Pretend | clexa AU

twenty-one

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Lexa shifted in position and her fingers pressed inbetween her legs again. She felt bad enough getting herself off in a bed she shared with Clarke, but she couldn't help it. Clarke had sat half naked on her back only hours ago, wet, and Lexa was proud she had made it through the day.

These kind of situations were not normal for her.

Everything was scary enough as it was, but nothing could have ever been as scary as the situation after Lexa involuntarily hummed lowly, bringing her free hand up to her own mouth to shup herself up quickly, and there was a soft gasp of, "Lexa."

Lexa stilled. Her body went crazy, craving her frozen fingers to move again, her tense thighs to move, but she couldn't.

Clarke was awake.

Clarke was awake.

Lexa begged this was a nightmare. Another dream in a very inappropriate situation.

It wasn't. She waited and waited but she didn't wake up.

Lexa didn't dare move.

Clarke's hand found its way on Lexa's arm, brushing over the goosebumps there only to cause more. "Lexa," she repeated.

"Clarke," Lexa stuttered breathlessly. The dam holding back the floods of apologies and 'I'm sorry I ruined our business with this' or 'If you want to report me for sexual abuse, I'll go voluntary' was only paperthin.

Clarke moved in bed, but instead of getting away from Lexa like she should be, Clarke got closer. Lexa sucked in a sharp breath when she felt the woman's body heat connect with her own.

She didn't exhale again for what felt like a lifetime.

Clarke's hand travelled from her biceps to her elbow.

From her elbow down her forearms. Her wrist.

It stayed there, with Clarke's fingers just inches away from the wet, throbbing spot that Lexa's fingers were still frozen on.

Now, Lexa exhaled. "Clarke," she breathed out, wavering, asking.

"Hi," Clarke answered softly.

Out of all things Clarke could have said, she chose hi.

"H-hi?" Lexa replied unsurely and Clarke's hand slipped from Lexa's wrist to rest on her lower stomach.

Beneath Clarke's palm, she felt Lexa's unsteady breathing. Her stomach lifted and fell irregularly, trembling.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"What?" Lexa asked stupidly and stared at the blurry silhoutte of Clarke's face in the dark. Clarke asked if Lexa wanted her to leave? Lexa should leave. Leave and never come back, in the best case. Move across the world. Become a celibate woman. A nun.

"Do you want me to leave you to... finish your thing, shower, sleep, whatever? Come back in the morning and don't talk about it?"

No. Lexa didn't want that. She wanted Clarke to be mad and disgusted and abandon Lexa, or kick Lexa out half naked so she could fend for herself. So she asked hesitantly, "Is there- is there another option?"

Clarke said "Yes," and Lexa breathed relieved. That breath got stuck right in her lungs when Clarke, who suddenly seemed so much closer, whispered into Lexa's ear with a husk, "I could also take your shorts off. Your shirt. Kiss you and then fuck you just like you need it."

Lexa's free hand dug into the mattress. "Oh," she breathed softly and felt new wetness coat her own fingers. Her breathing became labored again.

That's exactly what she wanted so bad. It was what she didn't deserve.