The 100 One Shots

thoughts of you*(Clexa)

The first time it happens, Clarke is laying on her bed, trying desperately to find a way out of the situation placed before her. Meeting the Grounder Commander had been a completely different experience than what she was expecting, and a little surprising. Not, of course, that their Commander was a woman, but at how young she was to be leading such a large army. Despite her age, Lexa had shown herself to be a formidable leader in their brief interaction. Not to mention strikingly beautiful. But Clarke knows she can’t think about that, not with an army on their doorstep. And yet, the way Lexa’s fingers had held her knife with such precision, the way her eyes had bored into Clarke’s and her voice had demanded obedience... Clarke shivers.

It had been a risky plan to begin with, hoping that her mother could save Lincoln. But it had worked. Lexa had been amazed at Lincoln’s recovery, as had the other Grounders. It had been written clearly on their faces. And in that instant, Clarke had let herself believe that they had reached an understanding, that no more blood needed to be shed. Until they had returned to the Grounder camp.

“Deliver me the one you call Finn,” Lexa had told her. “Our truce begins with his death.”

Crawling into her bed, Clarke lets her eyes drift shut, waiting for sleep. There was no clear way out of this mess, not now. She needed to sleep on it and approach it again in the morning. She thinks of Lexa. Striking in her black war paint and armor, her gaze as piercing as the dagger she held at their first meeting. Not someone Clarke wanted as an enemy. Even now they we’re only tentative allies, their truce resting on the edge of a knife.

She begins to doze off, thoughts of Finn’s fate replaced with memories of Lexa’s eyes on hers. Measuring her, no doubt. Taking stock of her new ally. Clarke wonders if she will fall asleep to the thought of those sharp, green eyes, when she feels a heat building between her legs. Before she has time to think on it, her body is on fire, and her back arches in pleasure that seems to have no source. She covers her mouth, afraid she might cry out, although not at all in pain. She rides out the orgasm, her eyes shut and her free hand bracing against the wall behind her head. When it comes to an end, she lays panting in her sheets, sweat coating her. While it was probably the strangest orgasm she’d ever had, with nothing leading up to it, it was not at all unpleasant. She drifts off to sleep shortly after, Finn and Lexa forgotten and the puzzling event soon lost to dreams. The next day, when she discreetly asks Raven if she’s ever experienced something similar, the mechanic simply laughs and tells her to watch out for her secret admirer. Clarke has no idea what to make of it but there’s no time to dwell on it anyways. The demand for Finn’s death still stands.

The second time it happens, it happens at the most inappropriate time. Clarke is leaning her head against the wall of her bedroom, trying not to think about the way it felt to push her blade into Finn’s side. The way he thanked her before his body went limp. Her eyes hurt from crying, and her hands are scrubbed raw (although they still feel stained). She knows she needs to get ready. They leave for TonDC tonight, but her mind isn’t letting her off the hook. Not after what she’s done. Raven’s face flashes in front of her eyes: pained, enraged, and heartbroken. Lexa’s voice echoes in her skull.

“Blood has answered blood. Some on my side say that is not enough. They wanted the murderer to suffer, as our tradition demands. But they do not know that your suffering will be worse.”

Clarke lets out a heavy sigh, her forehead resting against the cool metal. She inhales and exhales deeply a few times in an attempt to calm her racing thoughts. It works, and she enters a sort of trance, leaning against the wall, pushing every thought out of her mind. Her soul may as well have left her body, and she thinks briefly that she might get through the night after all. That’s when it hits her.