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Prologue: Zero Gravity

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Sometimes, the sky is heavy

It's coming down on me

Sometimes I'm not ready

You look at me, the way nobody does

Nothing can touch us, nothing is big enough

And oh, it doesn't mean much

And it feels so nice, oh

You gotta sweet touch and it feels like

And I don't care about nothing

you lift me off my feet

And when I feel you coming, it's zero gravity

- Borgeous ft Lights, 'Zero Gravity'

 

 

 

"You think our ways are harsh, but that's how we survive."

"Maybe life should be about more than just surviving. Don't we deserve better than that?"

Lexa gazed intently at her from beneath hooded eyelids, her voice surprisingly soft when she responded, "Maybe we do."

Clarke was barely able to take a breath before Lexa's lips pressed against hers, gentle but firm, her hand finding its way to cup her jaw beneath her hair with an unexpected reverence. Clarke responded without hesitation, deepening the kiss and gently sucking Lexa's lower lip between her own.

Lexa's hand found its way to her hip, a soft noise escaping her throat at Clarke's eager reciprocation. The sound, the slight shiver of her jaw, the subtle tightening of her fingers against her heated flesh; it all sent a tingle through Clarke that seemed to hit all of her extremities at the same time.

She released Lexa's lip to take a shaky breath, Finn's face searing itself into the backs of her eyelids and bringing with it the weight of a guilt so heavy Clarke thought it might crush her completely. She hesitated when Lexa bumped her nose gently over hers as she tilted her head in the opposite direction.

Clarke's hand went up to her chest, pressing her back gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry.. I—"

Lexa just gazed back at her, piercing green eyes full of understanding and desire and—yes, some sadness. It nearly made Clarke melt when she realized that Lexa was already trying to rein in her feelings; that there was no pressure beneath the desire. That, given what little knowledge Clarke had of the Costia situation, Lexa would very likely understand if she wasn't ready for this; possibly even wait for her to be ready. Certainly not hate her for it.

At least, she hoped.

"It's okay," Lexa said softly, leaning back a little against the table. "I understand, Klarke."

Clarke's eyes dropped behind her to the table, her mind rapidly filling with the memory of backing her up into it just a few hours ago. A warmth began to spread deep in her gut that was only intensified by Lexa's pronunciation of her name in her mother tongue, and Clarke felt something inside her break apart a little.

Maybe she wasn't ready to fall in love, but love was weakness anyway, right? And what she was ready for, was to move on. She had to. She couldn't function like this; seeing his face around every corner, haunted by a memory while trying to actively wage a war that was very likely to bring even more death and destruction to dump unceremoniously into her lap. That she'd loved him was a lie; a kind one in his last moments, but a lie nonetheless. How could she love someone she'd barely known to begin with? And of course, she'd known him even less after the senseless massacre in Tondc.

No. She couldn't let him be a driving force for her any longer.

 

The dead are gone, Klarke. The living are hungry.

 

And she was; Clarke was ravenous for something real and sloppy and intense; something to put everything else out of her mind, including the fact that there remained a distinct possibility that many of them, including herself and Lexa, may not make it through the night.

 

 "It's over, Clarke! They're going to die up there and we're alone!"

"We're not alone! You're not alone! You're not alone."

 

She'd told him that. Wanted to believe it herself. The truth was she'd felt the same way in that moment; like there was nothing else left to hold onto, and so she'd grabbed the first thing she could to tether herself to this godforsaken nightmare of a planet before she floated away forever.

.And maybe she could convince herself that she was doing the same thing when she stepped closer to Lexa; that she was looking for an anchor, something to steady her feet on the ground and keep them there.

But the fact of the matter was that as her hand slid around the back of Lexa's neck and pulled her into another, far more desperate kiss, Clarke felt like her feet were being lifted higher into the air than she'd ever thought possible. High enough that as Lexa's hands encircled her hips and pulled her closer, Clarke felt all of it dropping away from her; the pain, the death, the regret. Her people, Mount Weather, the impending war; all the goddamn responsibility.

Clarke quickly shrugged her jacket off and reached for Lexa's coat, pulling the buckle open and pushing it off her shoulders to join her own on the ground. A low rumble escaped her throat as she ran her hands over the Commander's lithe but surprisingly muscular body and down her hips, to the backs of her thighs. She dug her fingers in a little and pulled up. Lexa, understanding what she was asking, gave a little hop and shifted as Clarke lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around Clarke's waist, pressing their hips together briefly as she did.

Clarke moved forward, setting her on the edge of the table, careful to avoid the model mountain that had taken them way too long to set up and Lexa's legs tightened around her waist, drawing her hips closer. Reluctantly, their lips broke apart, both of them taking a few steadying breaths.

The mossy pools of Lexa's eyes searched hers intently but unsurely, her chest heaving with desire practically in unison with Clarke's own. Her voice was sincere but reluctant as she spoke quietly between breaths. "We don't have to—"

"Shof op," Clarke said firmly, pressing her back into a pile of maps and sliding her hands up her tight abdomen to pull her shirt loose. Lexa's pupils dilated at the snap of Trigedasleng falling from those lips she pretty much wanted to kiss forever.

Lexa arched into her touch, her heels pulling against Clarke's ass, trying to bring her hips closer and tilting her head up in silent request. Clarke obliged her, leaning into her slight frame and kissing her again. Her tongue quickly slid past her lips and she moaned softly when Lexa sucked on it, one hand quickly making its way beneath Clarke's shirt and palming her breast.

Clarke's hands, meanwhile, had figured out how to open the closures of Lexa's shirt and were exploring the expanse of skin beneath, investigating every inch she could find before cupping the small handfuls of Lexa's breasts. Lexa moaned deeply into the kiss, running her nails over the hard peak of Clarke's nipple and drawing another low rumble from her chest.

Clarke was dizzy with desire, her shaky hands pulling at buckles and belts and zippers until the Commander lay naked before her, reclined on her elbows. Lexa's eyes were heavy with lust, peeking out from beneath the black smudge across her face while she unabashedly watched Clarke survey her body.

The slightest hint of a smirk crossed Lexa's face when Clarke's breath hitched, and for reasons Clarke really didn't feel like thinking about just then, it fanned the flames in her core. She leaned in once more, but Lexa put her hand on her chest, mirroring Clarke's own movement earlier, and Clarke thought she might die if Lexa had changed her mind.

But all Lexa said with that stupidly enticing lifted eyebrow was, "Yours, too. I want to see you."

A shudder ran through Clarke and she shed her remaining clothes so quickly she nearly fell over, grabbing Lexa's thigh instinctively, her nails leaving thin red streaks as she steadied herself. She pulled her hand back and opened her mouth to apologize, but Lexa let out a quiet moan and took her hand, putting it back on the fresh marks, a challenge in her eyes.

She liked it.

The stormy blue of Clarke's eyes rapidly disintegrated behind her expanding pupils as she closed the space between them once more. Lexa sat up the rest of the way, her hand still over Clarke's, their lips crashing together hungrily. Clarke dug her nails into Lexa's hips, dragging them up her lower back hard and leaving marks that probably wouldn't fade for days.

Lexa growled in the back of her throat—fucking growled—and Clarke pulled away from the kiss quickly, dropping her head to her breast, her tongue teasing around the stiff point of her nipple before closing her teeth on it lightly. Lexa arched into her mouth, her hand instinctively cupping the back of Clarke's head and tangling her fingers in her hair.

Clarke could have stayed there forever and still died happy, but she was more interested in discovering what else she could do to set Lexa shaking. She licked and bit her way slowly down the Commander's body, leaving a trail of small bruises on her way. She deliberately slid her torso over Lexa's slick heat, delighting in both the deep groan it pulled from her throat and the feeling of her wetness streaking Clarke's stomach.

Clarke pushed Lexa's upper body unceremoniously back onto the table and wrapped her hands around her ankles, pulling her legs up. Lexa drew her knees up around Clarke and set her heels on the edge of the table, not a speck of green remaining to frame her blown out pupils as Clarke pushed her thighs apart, spreading her legs as far as possible. The edge of the table dug into her ass alongside Clarke's nails.

Lexa's breath hitched as Clarke lowered herself onto her knees and ran her tongue up the inside of her thigh, pausing every inch or so to suck and nip the tender flesh. Lexa's hips lifted subtly as the blood pooled beneath her skin, moaning Clarke's name and reaching for her head again.

But Clarke pushed her hand away, her voice gravelly as she squeezed Lexa's fragile looking wrist. "Not yet."

Lexa shivered and let out an unintended whimper that turned Clarke on even more. She turned her head and treated Lexa's other thigh to the same slow torture, making her way up to the crease of her hip, noting with pleasure the rapidly-expanding pool of arousal forming under her ass and smearing the charcoal on the map under her.

Clarke scraped her teeth over her hipbone and licked her way across to her other hip as Lexa uselessly thrust her mound into the empty space between them, her chest heaving, sweat pouring off her and further smudging her war paint.

"Beja, Clarke.." She shivered at the desperation in Lexa's voice and took pity on her, mostly because they wanted the same thing. Clarke found herself absolutely compelled to find out what Lexa tasted like, to bury her face between her legs and explore her more fully.

She wrapped her hands around Lexa's ankles tightly, pushing her thighs apart just slightly past the point of comfort, glancing up at her for confirmation that it was okay. Lexa was already looking back at her, nodding with a heavy groan.

Her consent granted, Clarke shifted on her knees before roughly running the flat of her tongue over Lexa's absolutely dripping center, drawing a gasp so loud that half the camp probably heard it. Clarke's entire being swam with the heady taste and scent of Lexa's arousal, thinking that she could live with her tongue right there forever.

Clarke lapped at Lexa's parted folds desperately, drawing every drop she could find into her mouth while studiously avoiding the swollen bud that pulsed with need in front of her. She stiffened her tongue and dipped it inside her as deeply as she could, circling her entrance with just enough pressure to make Lexa whimper again, reaching for Clarke's head.

Clarke, her tongue still buried deep inside her, grabbed her wrists again and squeezed them hard enough that they would likely bear her marks for the rest of the night. Lexa thrust her hips shamelessly against her mouth, pulling against Clarke's loosening grip, her voice even huskier than usual and almost too quiet to hear. Almost.

"Don't let go."

A shudder ran deeply through Clarke's chest straight to her pulsing center and it took her a moment to realize the embarrassingly loud moan that filled the tent had come from her own throat as she pulled Lexa's hands to the table on either side of her thighs. They would most certainly bruise now, and the idea of Lexa, Heda of the twelve clans, spending the next week or so bearing the bruises and deep scratches claiming her as Clarke's was driving her a little crazy. Her own center clamped around nothing, making her aware that she was just as soaked as Lexa was.

Clarke drove her tongue past her clenching entrance, bumping her nose gently against her swollen clit and delighting in the loud cry it drew from the Commander.

So loud, in fact, that Ryder burst into the tent, weapon at the ready.

Clarke's head spun around at the sound of the male voice shouting, "Heda!" He skidded to a stop, his eyes instantly growing comically large at the sight of his Commander spread on the table with Clarke's head between her thighs, her face streaked with the copious arousal she'd collected.

Lexa made no attempt whatsoever to reclaim her modesty or hide the wild mass of blonde waves buried between her thighs. She merely snapped, "Gonot raun!" and punctuated it with an involuntary moan that made Ryder turn three shades of purple as he spun on his heel and hightailed it out of the tent. Clarke's grip on her wrists loosened as she choked on her laughter, pressing her forehead against her thigh in an effort to compose herself.

Her hands now free, Lexa slid her fingers through her hair, totally indifferent about the entire debacle as she tried to guide Clarke back to the task at hand. Or rather, the task at tongue, Clarke thought as she snatched Lexa's hand off her head and resumed her death grip on her deceptively fragile wrists.

"Beja yu, kiyon…" Her voice was nearly a whine as she lifted her hips towards her once more.

Clarke couldn't help but smirk at her urgency; the entire concept of nonchalant, composed Heda Leksa laid bare and vulnerable and on the verge of completely losing her mind over the briefest cessation of Clarke's touch was the headiest sensation she'd ever experienced. Lexa needing her so badly that she whimpered again, rocking her hips against the table as she sought Clarke's mouth in shameless desperation.

Despite being far less dismissive of and more perturbed by their accidental voyeuristic display than Lexa was, the interruption still had done nothing to staunch either the heat between Clarke's thighs or her desire to swallow every drop of Lexa's arousal she could access and then some.

Lexa, with an impatience not very becoming of a Commander, wildly unaccustomed to being denied anything by anyone, and unable to free her arms, crossed her ankles against the back of Clarke's head, coaxing her closer.

"Klarke." Her voice was practically petulant in her request, and Clarke couldn't bear to withhold any longer. Without warning, her tongue flicked quickly against her needy clit, the suddenness of it drawing another cry from Lexa's kiss-swollen lips; only this time it was Clarke's name echoing for at least three tents in every direction.

Clarke hadn't thought she could get any more turned on than she already was, but hearing Lexa scream her name released a fresh deluge of slickness between her thighs so intense she was mildly concerned about turning the ground below her into mud.

"More, beja," Lexa panted, trying to force her legs apart even further as though that would convince Clarke to relieve her.

Clarke just tightened her grip on her wrists and bit the inside of her thigh just hard enough to mark before sucking at her flesh, marking her again and clumsily mumbling against her, "Nou. Ai nou gaf gon kom yu op nau…"

Lexa's head shot up to look at her, her face the picture of arousal and shock. "H-how did you..?"

Clarke smirked and bit the opposite thigh, giving it the same treatment. "My tent's next to Octavia and Lincoln's."

Lexa started to chuckle, but it quickly turned into a deep moan when Clarke opened her mouth as widely as possible and pressed her tongue past her entrance, pulled back, and pushed back inside. Lexa writhed and twitched on the table as Clarke fucked her tongue into her, the pressure of her walls trying to clamp down on it nearly unbearable for both of them.

Lexa's legs began shaking hard, her hips jerking violently as she Clarke pushed her closer to the edge. Clarke's tongue wrapping briefly around her clit a few times before she closed her lips, sucking and flicking against it until she felt Lexa go completely stiff around her, her thighs involuntarily snapping shut on her head. Her wrists wrenched out of Clarke's grasp as she came, announcing Clarke's name even louder to the populace surrounding them than she'd already done.

Clarke eased off, lapping at her gently, her tongue searching out every drop of her until Lexa's thighs fell apart tiredly and she gently tapped the top of Clarke's head. She kissed the inside of each thigh softly before folding her arms across her hips and laying her head on them, running her nails lazily over her stomach as Lexa lay there, spent and panting.

"Jok, Leksa.. yu sou laik fanas.." She murmured, leaving a gentle kiss on her mound before unsteadily pushing herself off the ground.

Lexa's breath hitched a little as Clarke popped her nearly numb knees and stretched her sore muscles, bracing against the table. "Your accent is terrible, Klarke."

Clarke just looked at her with an amused expression and raised brow. "So's your sense of modesty.. Or were you even aware that Ryder's got a solid minute's worth of material for his spank-bank now?"

Lexa shrugged, finally catching her breath enough to sit up, giving Clarke a good look at the latticework of scratches and checkerboard of bruises coming to the surface. "There's nothing for me to be modest about. I have a strong and well-formed, attractive body."

Clarke chuckled at her justified confidence as she slid between her thighs, leaning into her to kiss her lightly. "You're damn right about that."

"I'm often right," Lexa agreed, wrapping her legs around her back and pulling her closer, their hips meeting again. Clarke, her thighs thoroughly coated in the insane amount of slickness she'd exuded, was suddenly very aware that she needed release badly.

Lexa ducked her head, nibbling at her earlobe and whispering, "Bed."

Clarke was in no mood to deny her anything just then; hell, she'd have happily taken a spear through the torso daily for the rest of her life if it meant having a naked, horny Lexa pressed against her for even a minute longer.

She slid her hands under Lexa's thighs and lifted her off the table, setting her feet on the floor and groaning a little when she saw the soaked and now totally illegible map. "Shit. We destroyed the map."

Lexa was busy planting kisses and little hickeys along Clarke's throat and she mumbled against her skin, "Who gives a skrish?" before scraping her teeth over her jugular.

Clarke moaned and moved towards the bed as Lexa pulled her along, her hands kneading the flesh of Clarke's toned ass and her mouth marking every inch it could reach as they collapsed onto the bed together.

Lexa didn't waste a second, pressing her lips eagerly to hers as Clarke rolled them over, putting Lexa onto her back once more. They kissed hungrily, their tongues winding around each other as Lexa forced her knee up between hers, pressing firmly against her and drawing a moan from deep in Clarke's throat.

Clarke rode Lexa's thigh enthusiastically, the slick created by her dripping center making it almost difficult for them to move together. She angled her hips so her clit was rubbing against Lexa's heated flesh and grunted when Lexa pulled her leg away, breaking the kiss.

"Not like this," Lexa said breathlessly, gazing up into Clarke's eyes, somehow looking more vulnerable than she had even mid-orgasm.

"How?" Clarke could barely form the word, so intense was her need for release.

Lexa scooted up just a little so she was more comfortable on the pillow, running her nails lightly over Clarke's arm before guiding her hand to the headboard. Clarke raised an eyebrow curiously as Lexa coyly did the same with her other arm.

Clarke gripped the headboard, needing it to steady herself when she realized what Lexa wanted.

"Are you sure?"

Clarke gulped when Lexa responded by running her tongue over and then biting her own lip, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Clarke closed her eyes briefly, afraid she would faint before Lexa's tongue came anywhere near her.

Lexa's strong arms helped get her into the slightly awkward position, with her knees on either side of her head and Lexa's hands already running over her hips and thighs. Truthfully, it wasn't the most comfortable position, but Clarke didn't expect to last longer than ten seconds at this point anyway.

Maybe not even five seconds, she thought as Lexa pulled her down and she felt the first firm stroke of her tongue. Clarke gasped loudly, adjusting her grip on the headboard before carefully lowering her hips a little further, aiming for a distance somewhere between Lexa having to stretch to reach her and accidentally drowning the Commander.

Lexa moaned, her long fingers splayed across Clarke's thighs as she ran her tongue firmly over every spot she could reach. She dipped inside Clarke and quickly retreated, tracing her tongue lightly over her parted lips and barely brushing past her clit before starting the whole path over again with constantly varying pressure.

Clarke had anticipated going off like a shot the moment Lexa touched her, but she hadn't anticipated Lexa being this skilled of a lover. Inside a minute she had Clarke writhing and moaning above her, coated in a mixture of sweat and their shared arousal.

Sensing Clarke's reluctance to relax in this position, Lexa gave her hips a hard pull until her swollen, dripping heat was pressed to her lips. She nipped lightly at the parted folds, causing Clarke to rattle the headboard like a cage.

Clarke chanted her name like a mantra as she rode Lexa's face, every nerve ending on fire. Lexa drew her to the edge and slowly eased her back from it until Clarke felt completely mindless and thought she might never come again, and feeling Lexa's tongue parting her soaking folds yet again, she wasn't even sure if she cared because she'd never felt like this before.

Lexa watched Clarke's breasts moving above her as she thrust and ground her hips helplessly and marginally regretted not spending more time with them as she wrapped her tongue around the engorged head of her needy clit and worked it over slowly.

With a sudden need to feel the fluttering of Clarke's inner walls holding her, she slid two long, thin fingers inside Clarke easily, drawing a yelp from her. Lexa's fingers curled inside her and her tongue working her clit mercilessly pulled Clarke over the edge quickly. The headboard creaked under the strain of Clarke's arching body as she cried Lexa's name to anyone who hadn't already heard them.

Lexa moved her tongue over and around her spasming center as fast as she could, trying not to let a drop of Clarke escape her mouth. Clarke's shaking began to subside and Lexa pulled her fingers free of her still-clenching walls. She was rewarded with a deep moan as she helped guide Clarke's shaky hips down the bed next to her.

Clarke laid on her side facing her, panting. Her face still glistened with Lexa's arousal, a fact which sent a fresh twinge of heat straight between Lexa's thighs.

Lexa pulled Clarke's arm up just enough to wedge herself beneath it before letting it rest on her abdomen. Clarke tiredly stroked her twitching fingers lightly over her stomach, mumbling her name softly.

Lexa closed her eyes as exhaustion took over, the warmth of their bodies on the pile of animal pelts enough to keep the cooler night air from chilling them.

Clarke pressed her lips to Lexa's temple, closing her eyes as well, feeling more sated and comfortable than she could remember ever feeling, even back home on the Ark.

Maybe she wasn't ready to be in love with someone just yet. But if being with Lexa, holding her, feeling her little jerks and twitches as she started to fall asleep, all felt like this? Clarke suspected she'd be ready a lot sooner than she'd thought.

All this time, she'd thought the goal was to stay standing; to anchor herself to the ground so she wouldn't fall apart. But Lexa had flipped it all upside down, and Clarke was all too happy to float away with her to this place where they could just be two girls laying in bed together.

It hadn't really occurred to Clarke that she could be anything else; that being a leader didn't have to mean not being anything else anymore. In fact it hadn't occurred to her until she'd said as much to Lexa just a couple of hours—or perhaps a lifetime or two—ago. That life could be about more than just surviving.

And for the very first time in her life, Clarke felt like it was.

She had one more vocabulary surprise tucked in her proverbial back pocket thanks to Lincoln and Octavia's proximity, and her voice was nearly as soft as the breeze that caressed their sated, sticky bodies as she whispered against her temple.

"Reshop, heda."

"Goodnight, Clarke," came the sleepy reply from a pair of smiling lips.