Clarke sat in the dirt, her legs awkwardly splayed out in front of her. She scowled down at her bound hands, noting the dried blood on the tattered pieces of leather. Despite the wear and tear on the leather laces, she still hadn’t been able to break them, and her wrists were now bruised and the skin broken. She had resorted to chewing at the laces at one point, which had simply earned her an amused chuckle from her captor who now squatted in the dirt across from her.
“Is this really necessary, Anya?” The blonde huffed.
She was exhausted and hungry, and there was mud and dirt deeply ingrained in the pores of her pale skin. It was so pervasive, she doubted she would ever be clean again. She could only imagine how many scrubbings it would take to remove weeks’ worth of grime. Not that Anya was likely to let her bathe any time soon.
She raised her bound hands and scratched at the side of her head, flinching at the feel of the greasy tangle of hair plastered to her cheeks. She supposed she should get used to it at some point. She didn’t know how far they were traveling, but it was obvious that they were headed away from both the dropship and the Mountain.
Her stomach rumbled, and she flinched. She wasn’t just hungry but thirsty, and despite the last few weeks on earth, her body still was not accustomed to the oppressive moisture that hung in the air. Nor was she particularly fond of all the bugs, especially the flying ones that bit at her skin, and swarmed around her head. When she had studied bugs on the Ark, no one had mentioned the little red bumps they left behind, or how they could fly into your ears, and up your nose. She had even inhaled a few of the nasty things. She shuddered just thinking about it.
But despite the humidity that cloaked her skin, it did nothing to ease her dry mouth or cracked lips. Her lips had already bled a couple of times, and when she had been stupid enough to complain to Anya, the woman had simply shoved her a little harder in the back, muttering something in her own language. And Clarke was certain she had been called a name, a “ branwada ,” not that she knew what it meant, but occasionally Anya would mutter words and phrases that reminded her of her own language. It made sense that they had a common tongue at one point.
She shifted in the dirt, letting her hands drop between her legs. She picked up a twig and spread her legs wider. She started scratching idly in the dirt, her mind hazy with fatigue, her hunger gnawing at the edges of her mind. She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the daze from her sight. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, the cracks busting open again. She didn’t mind the iron on her tongue, at least she could taste something, even if she couldn’t eat.
Anya crouched across from the girl, her long arms dangling over her knees. She held herself still, not making any unnecessary movements. She kept one eye on the forest, while they rested, for the Mountain Men never gave up easily. But the other eye…that she used to keep a careful watch upon the Skai Girl.
It was obvious that she was exhausted, not just from their maddened jump from the mountain and their fast and arduous pace through the forest, but from her time here on earth. Clarke wasn’t built for life on earth, her feet weren’t meant to ever touch the ground. She was pale and thin, her muscles under-developed. No, she was meant to live among the dying stars. She had been pushed to her limit, brought to her knees. She reeked of filth and blood and death. Her greasy hair hung limply down her neck, and she occasionally swatted at the bugs that tried to feast on her dirty skin. And yet…and yet…she still had not broken.
Anya cocked her head, watching as she scratched something in the dirt. Despite the girl’s sheer stubbornness, and inability to keep her mouth shut there was something about her. Something that spoke to her. She frowned. No. Called to her. She shook her head, disgruntled and feeling slightly anxious. Anxiety was a foreign feeling to her, and she didn’t like the way it clawed at her belly. It shredded at her fragile self-control.
She stiffened slightly and turned her head to peer into the forest. She growled low in her throat. They were getting closer, it was time to go. She stood abruptly, and in three strides was standing in front of Clarke, who looked up at her in surprise. She reached down and grabbed the girl’s wrists, yanking her to her feet.
The girl stumbled slightly crashing into Anya’s chest, her legs had mostly fallen asleep, and she grimaced as flashes of fire burned along her nerve endings. She opened her mouth to berate Anya, but her words were lost in the muffled heat of Anya's palm.
“Quiet,” hissed Anya. Her left arm was wrapped securely around Clarke’s waist holding her tight against her where Clarke had fallen. Her right hand was still pressed across Clarke’s mouth, and she suddenly scowled when she felt something hot and wet scrape across her palm. She glanced down at Clarke to be greeted with exasperated blue eyes. The blonde tried to shrug and push herself away from Anya, but Anya simply pulled her more firmly against her chest. It probably wasn’t necessary to hold her so tightly, and despite the slightly sour and musky smell emanating from the girl, Anya couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the feel of warm curves pressed against her own hard, angular body. She grit her teeth when she felt her shaft twitch in agreement, and she silently cursed herself. She was surprised in some ways, because she normally had much better control of her body, but like the blonde; she was exhausted and her body had taken some serious beatings. So she bit back her sigh and enjoyed the brief feel of warm curves resting against her body.
But her pleasure soon turned to pain, and she barely squelched a gasp when she felt sharp little teeth sink into the palm of her hand. She curled her lips in a silent snarl, and gave the girl a warning glance before slowly removing her hand from her mouth. She quickly raised a finger to her lips, and jerked her head to the side.
Clarke’s eyes widened momentarily, and she nodded in understanding. Anya grabbed her shoulder and gave her a slight shove in front of her to get her moving, and Clarke started to make her way deeper into the forest, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Anya winced. The girl sounded like a rampaging pauna in the forest. No wonder the Mountain Men were still following them.
She grabbed some broken fir tree branches and started to wipe out their footprints, but she hesitated when she looked down at the picture Clarke had scratched into the dirt. She looked up, her eyes glued to the girl’s retreating form, and she looked back down at the picture. She bit her lower lip before carefully wiping the branches across the scratch marks. She continued, walking backwards and wiping their prints as she went, until she reached the end of the swaths of dirt. She threw the branches aside, knowing it wouldn’t buy them much time, but it was a start.
She quickly caught up with Clarke, scooping up the braided leather rope and tugging the girl behind her. She scrambled their way up a steep hill, their feet slipping the loose soil. She desperately grabbed at tree branches trying to haul them both up the steep hill, but her strength was waning. She had lost too much blood in the mountain, and she could feel her energy ebb away with every breath she took.
She stumbled to the ground, barely managing to drop into a shaky crouch. She jerked Clarke down with her, ignoring the blonde’s muttered curse. They both peered over the edge, and Anya stared in silent disbelief. The Mountain Men were just below them, getting ready to climb the hill. She dropped her head, panting harshly.
“How is this possible?” She whispered under her breath, her shoulders twitching as she tried to gain control of her breathing. She felt Clarke shift against her, pressing her chest to the back of her shoulder. She was momentarily distracted by the feel of her body pressing against her, and she inwardly cursed herself. She needed to focus on getting them out of this alive and in one piece. She needed to hand Clarke over to the Heda. She couldn’t afford to return to her people in disgrace. Clarke was a worthy prize that might appease Heda’s wrath for her failure. Her prize. She grit her teeth.
Clarke shifted again, leaning over Anya’s shoulder and narrowing her eyes. She gazed at the men in the suits and realized one of them was holding something that he would look to and then point. She cursed again under her breath and leaned harder against Anya’s shoulder. She pressed her lips almost against her ear, “they aren’t following us, they are tracking us!”
She grabbed Anya’s shoulder tugging her sharply, “If I’m right, it should feel something like a small bump just under your skin.” They both quickly started to search their bodies, and both Anya and Clarke grimaced at the same time when they saw the raised bump on Anya’s arm.
“It’s you,” whispered Clarke, “Ok I can remove it, but you need to untie my hands.” She held up her hands pleadingly as she started to look around, “I just need something sharp and sterile.” She turned back around and her mouth dropped open in shock as Anya bent over her arm and bit deeply.
“Or we could just do that,” she muttered.
Anya growled lightly at the pain that lanced through her arm, but she refused to give up, and she grunted and twisted her head violently when her teeth closed around the foreign object in her arm. The blood slicked her tongue and dribbled down her lips as she spit it out on the ground. She glared at Clarke, “I’m not going back.”
Clarke nodded mutely and gestured with her hands again, silently pleading with Anya. She glared when the older woman shook her head. “Anya, we don’t have time for this shit. We would make better time, if you would untie my hands!”
Anya smirked at her, “So you can run away Skai girl? No, I need you. You are my prize,” and she turned, tugging sharply on the braid, and Clarke stumbled after her, as Anya led her deeper into the forest, down the other side of the hill.
Dusk was just starting to filter through the trees when they finally made their way to the outskirts of a small village. Anya crouched low in the bushes, dragging Clarke down with her, and when the girl huffed at her, she tightened her grip on her arm in warning. She smiled to herself when the blonde immediately quieted and leaned slightly forward so her breasts were scraping the back of Anya’s upper arm. She was tempted to move her arm back, so she could brush against the warm swells of her breasts, but she resisted, reminding herself that she already had someone waiting for her in Ton DC. Someone who was probably becoming more and more anxious the longer Anya was gone, but who would also never admit to it. She forced thoughts of her lover out of her mind to concentrate on the task at hand, mainly was this village loyal to her Heda.
She bit her lip as she looked carefully around the small village. It was only a small cluster of huts. She counted seven, but she thought there might be a few more further back in the trees. There were a few pens that contained some chickens and boars, and there was a communal fire in the center of the village. She could see shadows moving around it, and she counted at least nineteen tall shadows and maybe four or five smaller shadows. Children. She relaxed slightly. Children in a village was always a good sign, it meant this wasn’t just a village outpost for warriors.
She stiffened slightly as she saw a shadow detach itself from the fire and slowly walk towards them. She carefully reached back and shoved the end of the rope she held into Clarke’s hands in order to free hers, but also to give the girl a chance to run if this went badly. She carefully reached out with her right hand, feeling along the ground, and she almost breathed a sigh of relief when her fingers scraped against a rock. She carefully worked it loose from the earth, and clutched it in her hand, pleased that it was big enough and jagged enough to inflict a significant amount of damage if used correctly. She waited and watched.
The shadow came closer, limping slightly, moving carefully and quietly, but not deliberately. The careful movement and silence was second nature to the shadow, and it turned and sat down on a log only a few feet in front of Anya and Clarke.
“You can let go of the rock. That won’t be necessary.” The voice was old and hoarse, but firm and confident. The shadow turned slightly, and the glow of the fire just barely spilled across weathered, brown cheeks and a slightly crooked nose.
Anya hesitated, still unsure, but there was something about the voice, something that beckoned to her to retrace the steps of her youth. She slowly lowered the rock, letting it rest silently on the dark earth. She reached back and fumbled for Clarke’s rope, suppressing a smirk when the blonde practically shoved it in her hand. Obviously the blonde wasn’t ready to be left alone in the dark woods or with strangers.
The shadow stood up slowly and beckoned. “Come. It is safe here. Even Heda stops here sometimes.” The shadow walked slowly back towards the fire, confident that the strangers would follow. “You must be hungry and tired.”
Anya rose to her feet and tugged at Clarke’s rope. She stepped carefully through the bushes and walked behind the shadow that she could now see was a woman, a woman who had already triumphed through many seasons, probably more than Anya ever would.
“What village is this?” Anya’s gaze continually swept the area. She noticed a few able bodied men and women sitting around the fire, sharpening various swords and knives. A few small children rested against their parents’ knees, sleepy heads resting in their laps. Two mothers were nursing, and Anya relaxed a little more. But she saw a few warriors step out of the tree line, and she realized that they had known she’d been there for quite some time, but had decided she wasn’t a threat. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
The old woman smiled and gestured towards a log at the fire. She shooed a large man out of the way, who mumbled but nodded his head sheepishly and moved. Anya looked around at the expectant faces looking at her. All watched her carefully, but none appeared to be afraid of her, and none showed any malice. She didn’t see any clan tattoos though, and that worried her.
She pulled Clarke closer to her side, and then pushed her down to sit on the log while she remained standing. She shoved the rope back into Clarke’s hands and rested one hand on the girl’s shoulder squeezing just enough to make it clear that she didn’t want Clarke to move.
Clarke was too tired to argue, and she slumped gratefully onto the log. She shuffled her feet and leaned forward resting her elbows on her knees. She stared at her dirty hands, and the red marks along her wrists. She sighed and looked up at the curious faces around the fire. She watched as a woman bent over one of the boys, a few years younger than herself, who sat on the log opposite the fire. She handed the boy a plate heaped with food, and Clarke’s eyes widened when she saw her misshapen hands. She wondered what injury could have resulted in the knotted mess of flesh.
She glanced up at Anya a question in her eyes, but Anya jerked her head slightly, her dark eyes glaring into Clarke’s. Anya had already noticed the young child wrapped in his mother’s arms who only had one healthy leg. The other appeared as if boneless. And as she scanned each villager, she could see that many of the adults had knotted and misshapen flesh and bone. She returned her gaze to the old woman when she heard her laugh.
“And now you know who we are, what we are.” The old woman laughed and pulled the fur around her shoulders a little tighter. “We are the castaways, the exiled. The discarded.” At Clarke’s questioning glance, she continued. “We were left to die in the woods at birth, because of our deformed flesh and bones. But we survived, and now all are welcome at our fire.”
Clarke nodded slowly, realizing that it was probably the effects of the radiation. Not everyone was able to resist it while in the womb. She felt the anger simmer in her belly though at the thought of the grounders casting children aside to die simply because their flesh was deformed, or their bones crooked. She clenched her fingers into fists and glared angrily into the fire.
Anya crouched down next to the sky girl and whispered, “Did you not once tell me that a second child had been born and locked away, and when she was discovered, her mother was tossed out of your Ark to die? Did your people not send you here to die?” Anya chuckled when she saw the younger girl’s shoulders deflate of their righteous anger.
Anya looked around smiling a little at the people as they returned to their conversations and work. She looked up gratefully when a bowls was shoved in her face and another in Clarke’s. She stayed squatting, and quickly began to eat the steaming meat, sopping it up with the large chunk of bread in the bowl. She watched from the corner of her eye as Clarke fell ravenously on her food, shoveling it quickly into her mouth, ignoring the heat that was surely burning her tongue.
Clarke couldn’t stop the groan that slipped past her mouth as she quickly ate. The meat was tender and savory and the hard bread was warm and almost nutty flavored. She licked her fingers, unmindful of the dirt, eager to not let a drop of the spicy gravy escape. She was too hungry to be embarrassed about her manners, and when her bowl was empty, she stared at it sadly, only to have it quickly replaced. She glanced up at the young girl and smiled thanking her quietly. This time she ate a little slower, enjoying the rich flavor that hit her tongue. She had never tasted anything like it before. She licked her fingers again, moaning lowly, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but Anya.
Anya watched in amusement as the girl devoured both bowls of food, carefully licking her fingers. Anya watched with rapt attention as the girl’s pink tongue circled around her own fingers, sucking the juices off, and catching each drop that slid down her fingers. Anya felt her cock start to harden when she heard the quiet moan, and she stiffened and tore her gaze from the blonde. She looked up and saw the old woman watching her in amusement.
Anya grunted in embarrassment, glad that the darkness covered most of her current bulge. She shifted awkwardly trying to ignore the way her cock scraped against her dirty pants. “So who are you?” She directed her attention towards the old woman who seemed to be the de facto leader. “I’m Laren,” continued Anya, not ready to reveal her true identity despite the woman’s claim that Heda sometimes stopped at this village.
The old woman laughed and picked up a stick, poking at the logs. “No, you are Anya. Anya kom Trikru, Primary General to our Heda. You were her Fos, and now…and now you are her….” The old woman’s voice trailed off, and she smiled knowingly at Anya.
Anya carefully set her bowl down and shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. She balanced her weight evenly, ready to spring to her feet. She eyed the woman carefully. She knew far more than Anya had imagined. She knew about her and Heda. Very few did, and it was meant to be a secret. She stamped down the growing anxiety in her chest, suddenly unsure if she was actually among friends or allies. She cursed herself for approaching the village. They should have taken their chances in the woods, even if they were near the Azgeda border.
“Sha. Set you down, Anya.” The old woman waved her hand at Anya, her gaze trained now on the fire. She continued to stir the logs and finally spoke quietly. “My daughter was Costia’s mother. Costia was born here.”
Anya’s mouth dropped open a little, and she shifted her weight back. It was suddenly clear why Heda would visit this village. Anya knew that Costia had been raised by her grandmother that her mother had been taken by Reapers when she was a young child. Heda rarely spoke of Costia anymore, but she had mentioned once the woman who had raised Costia, and how Heda had greatly admired her, even loved her.
“Then you must be Bren.”
“Sha. I am Bren.” The woman stood slowly, throwing the stick into the fire. “Come. I will show you where you can wash up, where you can sleep.” She led them to a small hut set back closer to the trees. Anya thanked the old woman, and once she was gone, she pushed Clarke towards the middle of the room where a large beam held up part of the roof. She carefully tied Clarke to the beam, but left her hands in front of her.
“Really, Anya? Is this really necessary?” Clarke slid down with a thump, letting her feet go out from under her. She was exhausted and now that her belly was full for the first time in…well a very long time, she simply wanted to sleep.
Anya ignored her and instead made her way to the fireplace. She grabbed some straw and small sticks from the pile of kindling, and quickly struck a spark with the flint and steel. She carefully blew on it, coaxing the flames to life. She added more straw and small sticks, and after a few minutes, she added bigger sticks. She stood when she heard the polite knock on the door.
A young boy and girl walked in, the boy holding a sword in its scabbard and belt and a dagger. He offered them to Anya, and the girl handed Anya a bundle of clean clothes and washing rags before they quickly ran off. She put the items on the bed, glancing over at Clarke who had her eyes closed and head tilted back against the beam. She hesitated for a moment, but then decided they would both feel better after a bath. She stepped out and when she came back, she had two buckets of warm water with her.
She set them down carefully and then kicked Clarke in the foot. “Come on. It isn’t a proper bath, but you smell. Get clean.” She untied Clarke and pushed the girl towards one of the buckets and tossed her a cloth and small ball of soap. She turned her back to Clarke and quickly tossed her clothes off into a pile. She dipped the cloth into the warm water and soaped up, before starting to quickly but thoroughly scrub the layers of dirt and blood from her skin.
When she didn’t hear any movement behind her, she turned in exasperation, ready to give Clarke an earful, but when she looked at her the girl was surprised to see the girl just staring at her with wide eyes.
“What is it?” She tossed her cloth into the bucket and put both her hands on her hips, not caring that she was naked and giving the sky girl more than she had bargained for.
“Your back,” whispered Clarke. She had been shocked at the sheer number of small scars on the woman’s upper back. She had realized almost immediately that they were kill scars like the ones the grounder sported. The grounder whom she had killed, after Tris had died.
Anya snorted and shrugged. She had stopped thinking about the rows of the dead that weighed her shoulders down. It helped no one to think of all the lives gone. But the movement caused the younger girl to tear her eyes from Anya’s, and Anya stared at her in confusion when she stumbled backwards with a gasp.
Clarke stumbled back, catching herself against the beam. She had been so transfixed by the scars on Anya’s back, and then her dark eyes that she hadn’t noticed the rest of Anya’s body. Until now. She blinked a few times, unsure if she was simply so exhausted that she was hallucinating, but despite how many times she blinked, the sight in front of her never changed.
“You…You have a…” she blushed as she stumbled over her words, and she finally gestured towards Anya’s crotch while she looked away in embarrassment.
Anya looked down at her cock. And then looked back up at Clarke. Was there something wrong with it? Was it not a good size? She was confused by the girl’s apparent confusion and embarrassment. She shrugged, unsure really how to reply.
“Yes.” She left it at that and waited for the girl to say something.
Clarke looked around the room, her mind scrambling to adjust to what she had seen. But finally her gaze was drawn back to Anya, despite her attempt to resist the urge. She bit her lip and stared at it. It looked like any other cock. At least she assumed it did. She really only had experience with one, and that was Finn’s. Finn’s looked like it was thicker, but she thought perhaps Anya’s was even a little thicker. She felt the heat creep up her cheeks, and she mentally berated herself for even comparing them or thinking about Anya’s.
She took a deep breath and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Is that normal?” She jerked her head towards Anya’s crotch again.
Anya blinked at her and then looked back down at her cock and then back up towards Clarke. She took a step closer, amused when Clarke drew back slightly. But she saw the pink flush her skin, and she couldn’t help but notice that despite the grime covering the girl’s skin, she was beautiful. She was strong too. Anya grudgingly admitted it. The girl hadn’t whined nearly as much as she thought she would on their perilous flight into the woods.
“What is normal?” She shrugged and reached down and tapped her cock and shrugged again. She chuckled when the girl squeaked in surprise that she would touch herself in front of her.
“I mean…is it common for women to have…” she gestured this time towards Anya’s cock and met her eyes defiantly, “those?”
Anya looked at her for a moment, realization dawning. “Your people…your women do not have these. Ever?”
Clarke shook her head, “No. Never.” She frowned for a moment. “Well, at least I don’t think so.”
“Sometimes women are born with them. Sometimes they are born with both. It isn’t common, but it is normal.” She stressed the last word, making it clear that her people didn’t judge each other on the basis of what was between their legs.
Clarke nodded slowly. She assumed it probably had something to do with a mutated gene, from the radiation that had flooded the world after the Great War. But then she stared at Anya in surprise when the rest of her words registered. She was surprised, and she was immediately ashamed that she was surprised that the grounders were so accepting. Although perhaps not entirely accepting, as they did have the bad habit of abandoning their children to die if they were deformed. She shook her head, knowing that her people were no different. Even petty crimes were punishable by floating.
Anya shrugged again and walked around the girl to the bed. She pulled on a pair soft looking shorts, deciding that it was more than enough to sleep in. She separated the piles of clothing and tossed Clarke a pair of soft shorts and worn shirt to sleep in. “Get washed and then get into bed.”
Clarke caught the clothes and set them aside. She untied her boots, kicking them off, and then peeling the shirt over her head. She winced at how caked with dirt and blood it was, and she dropped it to the floor wondering if it would be better to just burn it. She dropped her hands to her pants, and then froze realizing that Anya was now sitting on the bed, avidly watching.
“Turn. Around.” She ground out as she glared at the grounder, who simply laughed at her. “You have nothing, I haven’t seen before.”
“I don’t care. You haven’t seen mine before. Now turn around.” Clarke huffed at the insolent grounder, wishing she could simply immolate her with the force of her glare.
Anya chuckled again, enjoying the flush of righteous indignation that bloomed across the girl’s fair skin. “Fine. Your virtue is safe with me,” she teased as she pulled the furs back and crawled under them, turning to face the wall. She smiled at the girl’s snort.
Clarke quickly undid her bra and pulled her pants down once she was sure that Anya wasn’t looking. She washed hurriedly, her back to Anya, thankful that she was finally clean, although wishing she could have taken longer. But she was exhausted and despite the extra logs that Anya had thrown on the fire, it was getting colder as the temperature dropped.
Once she was finished washing and changing, she shuffled over to the bed. She threw a glance towards the door, but knew she would never make it, and despite how gruff Anya could be, she didn’t seem inclined to actually hurt her. Despite the blow to her head that had originally knocked her out after they jumped over the waterfall, Anya hadn’t tried to really hurt her.
“Don’t even think about it,” growled Anya. She rolled over and slipped from the bed, moving quickly around Clarke to grab the rope. She gestured towards Clarke, “Hands.”
Clarke immediately put her hands her back. “No.”
Anya hissed under her breath and grabbed Clarke’s arm, trying to wrestle the girl’s arms around despite her struggling.
“No, Anya, I won’t run. I promise!” Clarke stilled and looked up at the taller woman. “Please, Anya. I’m exhausted and my head hurts. I won’t run. I have nowhere to run to.” She laughed bitterly, “I’m not stupid, Anya, I know my best chance of survival is with you. I’d never last the night in the woods.”
Anya stared at her for a moment, studying her carefully. She knew it was true. Despite how foolish the girl could be, she wasn’t stupid. She was intelligent enough to realize that she needed Anya. She nodded carefully and tossed the rope aside. She grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her towards the bed.
“If you try anything…” She didn’t bother to finish the threat. She was confident the blonde understood, and she smirked when the girl nodded and obediently crawled into the bed. She climbed in after her, pulling the furs up around them both. She settled on her back and stared up at the thatched ceiling. She hissed while the girl wiggled around and finally turned on her side facing the wall. It didn’t take long for her to grow quiet, and after about fifteen minutes, her breath evened out.
Anya lay there, listening to the night sounds outside. She could hear people shuffling off to bed, hear the perimeter guards making their rounds. She felt fairly secure knowing that there was a very slim chance anyone would try to hurt them. She closed her eyes, her hands resting on her belly underneath the furs. She was exhausted but her mind wouldn’t stop tumbling.
She would be returning to Polis in disgrace. But first she had to stop in Ton DC and deliver Clarke to her Heda, and then she would be returning to Polis in disgrace. Her face burned in shame at the thought of what Heda would say to her, what she would do. She was Heda’s most trusted general, and she had failed her. She bit down viciously on her lip, reveling in the pain and the copper that tainted her tongue. She hated the anxiety that she could feel sitting in her chest. She knew Heda would be displeased, but she hoped that Lexa would be happy that she was returning to her.
She let her thoughts turn to Lexa, her young lover, her second, her Heda. It had never occurred to her that she and Lexa would become lovers after Costia. They had always been Seken and Fos then Heda and General, but they had also always been friends. It had been surprising that they had formed such a lasting friendship. Hedas didn’t usually have friends. Only generals and counselors and subjects.
She supposed it had made sense. It had been she who had wrapped her arms around Lexa while she’d screamed in her grief when Costia’s head had been delivered to her bed. It had been she, who had never left Lexa’s side in the ensuing days and nights. And the nights had been the worst. She would waken crying in her sleep, calling for Costia. Anya had long dismissed the guards, not allowing anyone near Lexa at night to hear the young Heda mourn her lover. And Anya had held her through the long nights assuring her that Costia was at peace, and that she had done what was right by not chasing after Nia. And there had been days when she wasn’t sure that Lexa would survive the crushing guilt.
But one night, the same night that Queen Nia had bent her knee to Heda and had finally joined the Coalition, Anya had held Lexa in her arms, while the young girl cried for the last time. And then she had taken deep shuddering breaths, and when she had finally pulled her face from Anya’s neck, her lips had scraped across Anya’s mouth. To this day, Anya didn’t know if it had been an accident or deliberate, or maybe it had even been fate. But it had been the natural culmination. And together they had found some sort of peace, even happiness in each other’s arms. She sighed. It had been almost three years since Costia’s death, and almost two that she and Lexa had been lovers.
She sighed again as she thought about Lexa. A small smile played about her lips as she remembered the feel of Lexa’s curls tumbling across her back as the brunette kissed each kill scar. Heda had no kill scars. Her back wasn’t big enough, but she understood what they truly meant despite having none, and she had always taken such gentle care, kissing and loving each one. She knew the burdens Anya bore for their people.
Anya bit her lip as she thought of bright green eyes, and plump lips, and a hot mouth that tasted sweeter than honeyed wine. She felt her cock twitch again, and she carefully slid her palm over her shorts cupping herself. She wrapped her hand around her bulge and squeezed lightly, biting back the moan that threatened to slip past her lips. It had been weeks since she had been inside of Lexa, weeks since she’d felt her lover’s body press into her own. It had been almost as long since she had touched herself. She turned her head carefully to the side, noting Clarke’s still even breathing.
She knew she probably shouldn’t, but she couldn’t resist. Her cock was aching and maybe release would help quiet her mind. She slid her hand down her shorts, rubbing her palm lightly along her shaft. She tried not to jerk her hips, and she wrapped her fingers around her length, gently tugging on it. She closed her eyes and thought about Lexa, her shining green eyes; the elegant arch of her back, the round firmness of her bottom. She felt her cock jump in her hand, and she squeezed the base and then drew her hand up in a twisting motion. She could feel the pre-cum gathering at the tip, and ran her fingertips through it, spreading it down her length.
She could feel herself harden even further, and the heat coiled in her belly. Her muscles tightened, and she tried not to pant as the delicious heat sunk deep into her thighs. She could feel the pressure building in her cock, and she recalled when she had said goodbye to Heda before heading to meet with the people who had fallen from the sky.
Lexa had pushed her down on to the bed, dragging her pants down to her knees, before gracefully sliding to her knees. She groaned at the memory of Lexa taking her in her mouth, the heat of her tongue sliding along her shaft. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, and she squeezed the base of her cock hard, in an effort to keep herself from bucking her hips. She gently released the base and trailed her slick fingertips up the underside of her shaft. She rubbed the leaking head, imagining it was Lexa’s tongue tickling the tip.
She could feel her balls tighten, and the pressure pound in her length, but despite how hard she tried, she couldn’t fall over the edge. She cursed under her breath, as she tugged on her cock again, her movement growing more choppy as the heat continued to swirl in her belly. She felt like kicking her feet like a petulant child, for no matter how hard she willed herself to fall over the edge, she couldn’t. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, trying to imagine how good it felt to be inside Lexa’s mouth, to see those bright green eyes staring up at her, the pouty lips wrapped around her cock. But the image flickered, and faded, and brown curly hair became blonde, and bright green eyes turned into hazy summer blue, and the lips wrapped around her cock were a lighter pink and thinner, but no less talented. She came hard, her hips jerking, and she bit down on her hand. The pressure exploded up her cock, and her cum splatted across her belly. She rode out the orgasm, pumping her cock with her fist.
And when she was finally done, her muscles shook with exhaustion. She used a corner of the fur to wipe the cum off her hand and belly, and she tucked herself back into her shorts. She lay there, her mind hazy with pleasure, but one picture clearly stood out in her mind. Clarke.
“Fuck,” she muttered.
Clarke lay there, barely breathing. She had been shocked and intrigued when she had first felt the movements next to her. It occurred to her that she should probably be angry that Anya had taken such liberties while they were in the same bed, but instead she was…excited. She rolled her eyes as she carefully clenched her thighs, feeling her clit pulse lightly. She squeezed her eyes close, and tried to ignore what had just happened. She felt Anya shift and roll on to her side, her back to Clarke. Clarke heard her breathing eventually even out, but sleep was a long time coming for Clarke.
The next morning she was grateful to discover Anya had already left the bed when her eyes opened. The ropes the Grounder had used to tie her were gone, along with the clothes she’d stolen from the Mountain. Her eyes were drawn to a bundle, waiting for her at the foot of the bed and she quickly kicked the blankets off and crawled to it, snatching it off the floor.
She figured it would be best if she was dressed before Anya decided to show up. She knew the woman’s patience to be famously short.
The clothes were surprisingly soft and comfortable and she found herself dressing eagerly. It was nice to be wearing something clean for a change.
She was struggling to secure some chest wraps around her breasts when Anya stepped inside. Clarke hunched over, the memory of what she’d witnessed the night before burning on her cheeks.
“You’re staring.” She threw weakly towards the warrior, angling her body further away from the door. No answer was forthcoming, then she felt Anya’s finger tap her shoulder.
“Let me,” the tone lacked the usual snark, “otherwise we’ll be here all day.” Nevermind.
Clarke felt Anya’s knuckles brush against her shoulder blades as the warrior took the edges of the wraps from her clumsy hands, then the older woman’s arms went around her briefly as she wound the wraps around her chest to tighten them at her back with a small knot. She was very glad that Anya could not see her face, because judging from the heat she felt on her cheeks she was about to evaporate. By the time the warrior stepped back, Clarke was shaking slightly.
“What’s wrong with you?” The blonde turned, shrugging into the shirt that had been provided and when blue eyes tangled with mocha, she felt her throat run dry.
“Nothing,” she mumbled, then offered an apologetic shrug seeing Anya’s expression turn doubtful, “perhaps I ate too fast last night.” Her tremors had nothing to do with the havoc Anya’s… jerking off had wrecked between her legs the night before.
Nothing at all.
Her clit throbbed faintly and she shifted, trying to press her thighs together as discreetly as possible.
Anya watched the girl curiously. She really didn’t understand the modesty, but perhaps it was a sky thing. Clarke was beautiful, albeit not as beautiful as Lexa - she thought with a burst of loyalty - but still… The girl decided it was a good time to bite on her lower lip as she squirmed under Anya’s scrutiny and derailed her train of thought completely.
Her cock twiched - its mind now was perfectly clear.
Anya turned away abruptly, motioning for Clarke to follow and trying to shove these thoughts away. She had disgraced Lexa enough and as pretty as the sky girl was she could distinguish between fleeting attraction and...and…. other things . She was not a mindless animal in rut.
They emerged from the hut and the girl stumbled against her back, momentarily blinded by the light. Anya grunted in surprise and glared over her shoulder. The sooner this irritating Skai Prisa was out of her hair, the better.
Bren was waiting for them outside, one of the village’s warriors behind her a few paces, holding a horse’s reins. She gestured to the animal - it was scrawny but his shanks were straight and it looked like it could endure a long trip. A satchel with supplies had been tied to the side of the saddle and Anya knew the villagers must have parted with some much needed food so that she and Clarke could eat on the road. She resolved to have Lexa send supplies for the village, remembering how chagrined she had been in the beginning at the sky girl’s reaction to her intimate parts. Were they any better really, shunning people like these because of deformities they couldn’t control?
She was brought back to the present as the village’s Elder bowed deeply.
“A word if you will fos gona ?”
Anya cast a warning look at Clarke, who in turn rolled her eyes at her and sniggered, then moved a few paces away, following the old woman.
“I’d like to thank you for the shelter. And the horse.”
Bren waved her words away with a kind smile. “It is nothing. I am sorry we can’t spare more.” She leaned in and grasped Anya’s forearm, fingers digging into the warrior’s flesh, directing a slanted look to Clarke. The girl was distracted, eyeing the horse up and down doubtfully.
“Something dark is coming, Anya kom Trikru. Guard the girl well.” Kindness dropped, her words were cold and cutting, and Anya found herself shivering. A moment later, Bren pulled away, motherly smile back into place.
“How…” Anya wet her lips and tried again. She’d never admit it out loud, but the woman had managed to rattle her. “How do you know of these things?”
Bren winked, and the wrinkles on her face seemed to shift and wriggle with her amusement. Anya was starting to feel slightly queasy. “The Sight has been in my family for generations.”
“Ah.” That’d explain how she had guessed about her and Lexa so assuredly.
The warrior didn’t know what else to say, and the Elder patted her arm gently. “Off you go now child. Remember my words and all will be well.”
They set off later than Anya would have liked, but Bren had drawn a map of the area for her in the dirt, and she had a good idea of their surroundings. It would take about a day longer to get back to TonDC than she’d imagined, but she wasn’t about to risk venturing close to the Mountain, especially not if they were still looking for them. They had been lucky to evade the search teams as it was, and she didn’t feel like pushing her luck.
Before mounting on the horse, she had patted the coiled rope at her belt and given Clarke a piercing look. “If you give me any trouble…”
The girl had rolled her eyes and snorted, in that irritatingly haughty way she had.
“Yes Anya I KNOW . I also promised not to run remember?” Her blue eyes held a quiet challenge that Anya had seen flash by when they were being hunted. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit it was enticing and a little heady.
That was how they found themselves riding the mangy gelding, Clarke seated behind her, arms wrapped tightly about her waist. The girl was silent for a change, and Anya started to relish the ride. Sunrays speared their way through the trees’ canopy and they went from sun, to shadow, back to sun. Her eyes scanned their surroundings tirelessly, but all she could hear were birds chirping, and the occasional animal running through the underbrush - most likely away from the trampling horse.
She would have enjoyed the ride even more if Clarke hadn’t been squeezing her around her midriff quite so hard.
“You don’t have to hold so tightly you know, “ she said at last, breaking the silence, “I won’t let you fall. Besides you’ll be less sore if you try to move with the horse, instead of impersonating a block of ice.”
Clarke only grunted in reply, but her hold slackened. Anya had expected a snarky remark and she began to wonder if the girl truly was coming down with some sickness.
The new arrangement worked well for a while, but as they rode over more irregular terrain, Anya noticed that the skai gada was brushing against her with every cant of the horse. It wasn’t a problem per se, but the warrior was acutely aware of which part of Clarke was pressing into her back, over and over.
She vowed silently to herself to shake it off. She was a seasoned warrior, and she had a lover waiting for her at home. She was more than capable of separating her lust from her duty, and doubly capable of resisting the sky girl. She congratulated herself on managing to regain control all the way up until the moment Clarke slumped forward letting her weight rest against Anya’s back. Her hands fell into Anya’s lap, loose and pliant, and Anya almost choked when the very tip of the back of Clarke’s fingers scraped across her crotch.
She felt herself grow stiff again, her shaft aching against the seam of her pants and groaned inwardly. It was cool in the verdant shade of the trees, but sweat slicked her brow and trickled down her shoulders while her loins started to ache. It wasn’t unpleasant and yet it was - so she tried to douse her ardor by thinking about her shame, once Lexa would hear of how Clarke and a handful of untrained children had defeated her. Of course that led her to think of Lexa and her touch, and how much she missed falling into exhausted sleep with her on those nights when they allowed themselves that luxury. But now as her mind played back those memories there was an added element, a glow of golden hair at the corner of her eyes.
Pressure seemed to build inside her until Anya felt close to bursting. She sawed the reins sharply and the horse came to an abrupt stop, snickering offended. Clarke crashed against her back with a muffled “oomph” as movement stopped, causing the warrior to inhale sharply.
“What’s going on?” the girl asked confused, as Anya dismounted and helped her down. Her legs almost gave way when she touched the ground, and if not for Anya’s support she would have landed on her ass in a heap.
“Time to eat,” the older woman replied, without meeting her eyes. Once she was sure Clarke could stand unaided, she let her go and went to rummage in the saddlebags. She spent longer than necessary rummaging through the saddlebag while trying to regain control of both her feelings and her body. She glanced down at the offending body part and curled her lip in reproval. “Just behave,” she muttered under her breath before grabbing the carefully wrapped package of food and turning to speak to Clarke.
The words died in her throat as she watched the blonde remove the too big jacket and stretch her bare arms high up over her head. Anya watched as she wiggled her fingers and arched her back trying to work out the kinks, unaware of the brunette who stood staring at her stupidly. Anya felt herself flush slightly as she gazed at the girl’s prominent breasts on display as she turned and wiggled, stretching out her cramped muscles.
Anya was stunned. She knew the blonde was attractive, but she hadn’t realized just how beautiful the girl was under all those layers of dirt. She idly wondered what Lexa would make of the girl. She was intelligent, and while she was like a new fawn in the woods, she was stronger than Anya had first suspected. Her hair shone in the sunlight, and her porcelain skin was turning a rosy hue, and Anya let her gaze rake the girl’s figure, noting the soft curves. Her body was vastly different from her own and Lexa’s, and anya wondered what it would feel like pressed against her own, writhing between the two of them.
“What are you staring at?”
Anya shook her head, viciously stamping out the thoughts that she had allowed free reign for too long. “Nothing. Here. Eat.” She opened the package and broke the bread in half and shoved it with some strips of meat into Clarke’s hand.
They ate quickly, too quickly for Clarke’s liking, as she dreaded getting back up on the horse. Her thighs were aching, and she was sure she had used more muscles trying to ride the horse, than she even knew she possessed. She grunted and walked to the horse, waiting for Anya to mount and pull her up, but instead Anya gestured to the horse and then cupped her hands.
“Um…” Clarke stood uncertainly looking up at the horse and then Anya who was starting to look annoyed.
“You are going to ride in front, now put your foot in my hands, and I’ll boost you up. Come on. We need to get to TonDC. We are still too close to Azgeda territory, and I don’t want to spend the night out here.” She gestured with her cupped hands, and once Clarke had managed to get the correct foot in Anya’s hands, she boosted the girl up. She mentally thanked Bren for giving them a calm horse as the blonde clambered rather inelegantly up on top of the horse.
Once Anya swung up behind her, she reached around Clarke’s front and grabbed the reins clucking to the horse. She held her arms rather awkwardly around Clarke, as she tried to refrain from touching her too much. But soon the muscles in her arms started to burn, and she finally gave in and lowered them to Clarke’s waist. She sighed in relief and relaxed. But her relief didn’t last long as Clarke leaned back in Anya’s arms. Anya grit her teeth and chose to ignore the warm weight of Clarke resting against her. At least she couldn’t feel the girl’s breasts brushing against her anymore.
Clarke relaxed against Anya, too tired to care that she was practically supine in her arms. She let her eyes drift close, the rolling gate of the horse soothing her into sleep. Her body swayed gently in Anya’s arms, and despite the fact that she was Anya’s prisoner, she had no fear that Anya would let her fall off the horse.
Anya glanced down, smiling in amusement as she noticed that the girl was almost asleep. The girl was relaxed and swaying slightly in the saddle, and Anya tightened her arms around her to better support her weight. She shifted forward, and her crotch scraped against the upper curve of Clarke’s bottom. She bit her lip, tempted to shift again and push into the girl, but she resisted. But she stiffened when she felt Clarke shift back into her, ass pressing against her cock. She bit back a groan as she felt herself start to harden.
She tried to think of other things, but her mind was focused on the warm body in her arms, and with each dip and stride of the horse, Clarke swayed in the saddle, her bottom scraping against Anya’s hard cock. She desperately wanted to reach down and adjust herself, unlace her pants to relieve the pressure on her cock, but she didn’t dare. She didn’t want Clarke to wake up and notice her not so small problem. But the gods were not smiling down on her today, and Clarke sat up straight, shifting in the saddle causing Anya to viciously bite down on her lower lip.
Clarke yawned as she turned her head looking around. She relaxed in the saddle, head woozy with sleep. But it only took a moment for her to realize that she was leaning heavily back into Anya. She stiffened and sat up straight, mumbling an apology. She gripped the saddle horn, concentrating on the path the horse was picking through the woods. But she couldn’t stop her body from naturally swaying in the saddle, and every time the horse stepped upwards through the dips and knolls in the woods, she felt her backside scrape against something hard.
It didn’t take long to figure out what was poking her in her lower back, and she bit her lip as she looked up at the canopy of trees. She worried her lower lip, wondering if she should bring attention to it, or just try to ignore it. But all she could think about was what she had seen last night, and she groaned inwardly cursing herself. Embarrassment be damned, the situation was becoming more unbearable.
“Um, Anya?” She bit her lip again, leaning forward slightly hoping to put more space between her and Anya, but instead it only served to push her bottom back hard against Anya. She cringed when she felt Anya stiffen, and heard the low grunt in her ear.
“I told you to keep quiet, Clarke. We are still too close to Azgeda territory,” Anya managed to choke out as she felt a bead of sweat drip down her back.
“Actually, you didn’t tell me to be quiet, Anya,” bit back Clarke as she turned and looked back at the stoic warrior behind her. Her eyes widened and she quickly turned her attention back to the front. She hadn’t anticipated the almost predatory gleam in Anya’s eyes. She shivered slightly, and cursed herself immediately.
“What, Clarke?” Snapped Anya in exasperation, embarrassment coloring the edge of her voice.
“Uhm...your...uhhhhh...well, it’s poking me.”
Anya groaned inwardly and grit her teeth. Sometimes denial was the best policy.
“That’s the saddle, Clarke,” she said solemnly, praying the irritating blonde would just be quiet.
Clarke snorted in disbelief. “I may not have ever ridden a horse before, or seen a saddle before, but even I know that isn’t what is poking me in the back!”
“I’ll give you something to ride,” muttered Anya as she looked down at the bulge between her legs, cursing her lack of control, cursing the blonde, and cursing the blonde’s round bottom especially.
“What?” Clarke felt all of the moisture drain from her mouth, and she could barely breathe. She had heard the warrior, and now her mind was filled with thoughts best left alone while on top of a horse.
“Nothing. Be quiet, Clarke, before Azgeda comes and cuts out your tongue,” snapped Anya.
They rode like that for hours, wrapped in a silence that was somewhere between embarassed and uneasy, through terrain that became steeper and rougher the further south they went. They were traversing hills, high enough to slow their journey, but not impervious to the occasional Azgeda raid. The horse seemed to sense their awkwardness as they unconsciously shifted around in the saddle, trying to ride without literally grinding against each other, and it hampered their progress further. The horse would occasionally snort and toss its head, as if it had something to say about their foolishness.
Anya knew the land would flatten out the more they neared TonDC, but as she lifted her gaze to track the sun’s progress downward she knew they’d never make it in time for nightfall.
Spending another night alone with the troublesome blonde was not something she needed. It was not something she wanted, she tried to tell herself and her body promptly called her out on her lie.
Anya huffed in annoyance, masking it behind a surreptitious cough. She half expected Clarke to glance back at her, but the girl was slumped forward, almost over the neck of the horse, and from the rigid line of her shoulders, the warrior guessed she was spending her remaining energy in keeping upright.
Dusk gathered like an unwanted guest where the trees grew thicker and the evening’s shadows lengthened slightly with each beat of the horse’s hooves. A wind picked up, carrying the night’s chill and Anya began to scan their surroundings for a good place to camp. She had briefly toyed with the idea of pushing on through the night, but the danger of the horse breaking a leg was too great. Besides, the animal’s flanks were lathered in sweat and its snorts had become more frequent and labored.
The warrior stood up on the stirrups briefly to get a better view as the descending sun coated every leaf in hues of pink and rosy gold and finally spotted a promising patch of ground. It was a tight copse, made of a few pines sticking close together and judging from the deep shade underneath, the ground sloped away gently from the trail they were following. Between that, the tree trunks and the bushes they’d be effectively hidden from view, so much perhaps that they could afford to light a small fire. Bren had packed tea leaves with their food, and Anya would gladly have something hot to chase down the chewy strips of meat and the hardy bread.
She nudged their mount off the path and dismounted, tying the horse behind one of the pines.
Clarke shook herself from her daze as she felt the horse come to a stop and slid her leg over the animal’s neck with a pained grunt. Her hips were on fire and she was sure she had blisters on the tender meat of her inner thighs. As soon as her feet touched the ground her muscles spasmed and her knees buckled, unable to hold her weight. She tumbled forward with a curse and a low moan, and barreled right into Anya’s chest, grasping at the woman’s shoulders to stay upright. She felt the warrior’s arms go around her instinctively and had to suppress a pleasurable shudder as hardened muscles pressed briefly into her curves.
Anya watched Clarke fall like an inevitable thing of gravity and beauty, and reflexively stepped forward, arms outstretched to catch the girl. The last thing she needed was a twisted ankle. Clarke collided with her chest, soft curves flush against her body, generous breasts briefly moulding to her own and Anya was glad that the wind had started howling loudly, masking her hoarse gasp.
Clarke pushed back hurriedly, if gently, muttering apologies and refusing to meet her eye, which was a small blessing all considering, since the heat of her cheeks must have been as bright as the setting sun.
Anya pushed her to go sit against one of the trees, busying herself with unsaddling the gelding and gathering the saddlebags. The poor beast deserved a good rubdown and to be fed first, considering it carried them pretty far without much complain. Anya felt some of her tension ebb away as she worked and she found respite in the fact that they’d be in TonDC on the morrow.
When she turned from the animal to gather wood and start a fire, she started with surprise seeing that Clarke had already set herself to the task. SHe tried to find fault in the placing of the fire, or its size and grit her teeth when she couldn’t. A small seed of admiration for the girl’s resourcefulness planted itself inside her chest and refused to be uprooted.
“What,” Clarke smirked from the other side of the flames, “you thought I couldn’t even light a fire? We were on the ground for way more than a week before you decided to come knocking.”
Anya said nothing, simply watching the girl’s mouth curve into a sour grimace as memories of a far bigger, hotter fire burned through their thoughts.
“I am sorry,” Clarke’s blue eyes darkened with regret and she scowled at the ground, “that was callous of me.”
“War is callous.” Anya breathed tepidly through the words and the tension burst like a punctured sore and leaked away from the small clearing. The girl nodded, saying nothing and worrying her lower lip between small, white teeth in a way that was too enticing for her own good.
Anya pulled a small iron kettle and a canteen from the bags, settling it over the fire, then offered Clarke more of the bread and meat they’d had for lunch. There was enough left for another full day, she judged before tying the bag close.
Their meal was consumed in silence, both of them aching from the day spent travelling and content to listen to the forest’s sounds growing muted with the encroaching darkness.
Owls and other nightly birds started calling to each others while the scurrying of small animals like squirrels faded, the braying of a fox in the distance sending them into a frantic run for their dens. Clarke took advantage of the time to study Anya.
The warrior sat against a tree opposite her, languidly reclined against its bark as she nursed a steaming mug of tea. Her almond shaped eyes were slivers of dark chocolate veined with gold in the low light, and the cutting edges of her cheekbones were gentled to a softer line by the light of the fire. Half her face was harsh shadow, her lips pressed into a little smirk, as if the world held an amusing secret that only she was privy to.
Clarke couldn’t help the shard of attraction that had lodged firmly in her throat. It grew bigger with each passing hour, hard to ignore and swallow around. It tied her tongue in knots and made her fumble for her words, and she reminded herself for the upteenth time that she was a prisoner. Despite her hope for an alliance with the grounders, Anya was still the enemy and Clarke should be fretting about what would happen once they reached this TonDC, instead of ogling her.
Still she couldn’t push those thoughts away, and was glad when a yawn threatened to break her face in two.
Anya followed suit, glaring at her as if it was her fault (it probably was), and struggled upright to grab their sleeping rolls. Clarke heard her curse in her language, then a blanket roll hit her square over her head.
“What was that for?” she grumbled, untying the bundle and shaking the blankets out. Anya just grunted and gestured for her to lay down and sleep. That was when Clarke noticed there was only one blanket roll, even if admittedly it was big enough for two.
“What about you?” She quirked an eyebrow questioningly. The warrior patted the bare ground and smiled dourly.
“I’m fine where I am.”
Clarke rolled her eyes, exasperated. Surely Anya must have been part mule to be so fucking stubborn. “Don’t be an idiot.”
The wind blew across the clearing and they both shivered.
“I said I…”
“Please Anya. It’s not like I care if you die of hypothermia,” wrong - strangely enough she didn’t want anything bad to happen to Anya, “but you’re my best chance to make it out of these woods alive, so…” She trailed off and wiggled under the blankets, patting the spot next to hers invitingly.
“Fine.” Anya kicked dirt over the dying fire then moved to the blankets and laid down next to her. As she settled onto her back with a tired sigh, Clarke thought that sharing the covers with a wooden log would be more comfortable. At her side Anya was utterly rigid, and she thought she could almost hear her teeth grinding together.
“You know,” she murmured softly, trying to keep mirth from her voice and failing, “your virtue is safe with me.” There was a moment of utter stillness, then Anya’s shoulders shook in silent laughter and Clarke felt the woman relax slightly.
“Reshop Klark.” She blinked, thinking she had misheard but the warrior was turning on her side to face away from her and she lost her chance to seek clarification.
Anya’s breaths slowed and evened out, yet Clarke found she couldn’t follow into slumber. The very air that grazed her cheek was charged with electricity and her mind kept chasing errant thoughts like a shepherd desperate to bring his sheep to pasture.
Anya had crawled under her skin, between the fiber of her every muscle. It seemed to her that a length of shiny razor-wire had been coiled around her chest, and that the warrior held its other end and every unaware tug of it drew them closer, cut her deeper. Clarke thought about her mother, dark eyes filled with disapproval at the thought her daughter could harbor certain intentions for an adversary, but not even Abby’s visage, baleful and distorted in righteous anger seemed able to deter her heart.
The woods pressing down around her became a source of torture; each sigh of the wind was Anya murmuring her name, the breeze on her skin turned to deft fingers tracing the line of her jaw. The heat coming off the other woman was no help, and soon enough Clarke’s eyes glazed over slightly at the thought of how it would feel to have the other woman hold her without barriers between them, and how it would be to have her move inside her. An image etched itself on her mind, brought on by Anya’s own grumbled words a few hours prior, of herself straddling the older woman and riding her with abandon.
Clarke groaned softly and when Anya shifted against her side, her heart began to hammer at her ribs, and she shared the aching knowledge of how a hummingbird must feel desperate for flight to escape a fumbling, cruel hold. But the warrior only settled with a soft mumble and Clarke released the breath she’d suddenly found herself holding.
She tried to inch away a little, eliciting another murmur and stilled, as the softest of throbbings began to beat a faltering rhythm between her thighs. Sweat stuck her shirt to her skin, turning it to a wet rag and her chest bucked and heaved as heat became a solid mass inside her belly.
She became aware of her hand slithering past the edge of her trousers as her fingers brushed her mound, causing her hips to cant upward sharply. She couldn't stop, and sid down further, pushing her underwear aside. Her cunt was so drenched her fingers almost fell inside her of their own volition and she retracted her arm hurriedly, biting her lip bloody not to bump into the sleeping form at her side.
She could only feel the wetness coating her fingertips as she rubbed them together, but her eyes widened regardless. Her own tang made the night air heavy and redolent with unspoken promises.
And if that wasn’t an understatement, she didn't know what was.