sharp shock to your soft side

Though Bellamy hates to leave, if only it means he can’t keep listening to the baby’s heartbeat, he’s glad to get home.

Their apartment has been slowly coming together – their kitchen already feels more complete with Bellamy’s old kitchen island in the middle of it, and Clarke has begun to collect plants, end tables, lamps, and art prints from her after yoga shopping with Monty. They’re still deliberating over the nursery, though they’ve picked out a crib, not much else has managed to present itself as 'theirs’. He hopes the upcoming baby shower helps him feel more like they’ve got a handle on things.

Clarke slips away to take a shower – citing feeling gross after yoga – and Bellamy changes out of his pants and into shorts before stretching out with a book he’s going to be teaching in one of his classes in the fall on the bed.

He doesn’t even notice how long Clarke is gone, because he falls in deep into the book. It’s when the bed creaks as Clarke climbs in that Bellamy stops reading, looking over his book to her.

Her hair is still damp from the shower, curling in gentle waves. She’s wearing his shirt, one of his missing button-ups that she’d laid claim to her first week in Providence. It pulls against her stomach and Bellamy feels his stomach flip, because their baby.

Though thoughts of the baby vacate his mind pretty quickly.

Clarke moves on the bed, swinging one leg over his waist to straddle him, her hips shift against his as she settles, heat stirring in Bellamy’s belly.

He raises an eyebrow. It’s not that Clarke has been – more eager than usual, for him, it’s that their interest in each other hasn’t ever moved from the high-intensity energy that had taken them in February.

It’s fucking awesome, honestly. Bellamy’s in love and his fiancée is gorgeous and she wants him all the time.

She’s smirking, eyes full of heat and Bellamy whets his lips behind his book, the swell of Clarke’s mouth making him feel hot all over. Clarke doesn’t notice and slides her hand up from where their hips press flush together, walking her fingers up his waist and over his stomach, rucking up his shirt as she goes.

“Sorry,” she teases, her voice a full octave lower and gravely. “Did you not want to have sex?”

Bellamy laughs, low. He drops his book, open, on his chest. “Was that the plan, then?” He asks, meeting Clarke’s timbre. “You should have told me. I would have joined you in the shower.” He smirks up at her, his nerve-endings frayed and burning where her fingers rest on his stomach.

Bellamy laughs, dropping the book on his chest. His eyes are already dark, his mouth wet like he just licked his lips. The book is still a barrier, though, and he isn’t reaching for her yet. “Was that the plan, then?” he asks, low. “You should have told me. I would have joined you in the shower.”

Clarke grins, scraping her thumbnail against the trail of hair leading down from his navel. He’s changed into shorts since they got home, the waistband riding dangerously low on his hips. Clarke whets her lips as she checks him out, wanton and unashamed.

“We would have gotten distracted,” Clarke murmurs, letting her fingers flirt under the edge of his shorts. “And shower sex sucks when you can’t fuck me up against the wall.” She smirks. “Be honest, Bellamy.”

msg: so we met the midwife today! her name’s maya and she might actually be a disney princess 🕊 msg: anyway, the baby’s heartbeat is strong enough to be heard through a stethoscope (!!!!!!!) so help me pick msg: leia [link] msg: or puppies [link]

The feeling burns through him like hot oil and desire rolled together.

He keeps his eyes on Clarke’s face, letting the gown that falls between her spread knees act as a curtain and doesn’t listen as Maya talks.

It’s a quick exam, honestly and Maya’s throwing her gloves into the trash before Bellamy can even decide if he’s justified in his bout of possessiveness – probably not. She leaves Clarke and Bellamy, so Clarke can change again.

There’s a beat when the door clicks shut and Clarke meets Bellamy’s eyes, her mouth caught in a half-smirk. “Note to self: don’t bring your hot fiancé to cervical exams,” she says, a little low.

Bellamy whets his lips. “Probably not the best idea,” he says, a little throaty.

Clarke laughs, kicking her feet a little. “Bring me my clothes, please,” she says, bright and holding her hand out to make grabby motions.

Bellamy rolls his eyes but hands Clarke her clothes anyway. “Yes, Princess,” he says, smirking at her.

When Clarke is dressed, Bellamy crosses the small exam room to rap on the door. He smiles at Maya when she swings it open. “We’re good,” he says, his voice surprisingly normal for talking to the woman who just had her hands on his girlfriend’s cervix. Or something. There may, in fact, be some details Bellamy probably shouldn’t know.

“Good,” Maya says, walking back into the exam room with Bellamy. She washes her hands again before reaching for the stethoscope around her neck. “So since you’re almost twenty-four weeks, your baby’s heartbeat is actually strong enough through a stethoscope,” she says with a smile. “So if you don’t mind rolling up your shirt, I’d love to listen.”

Bellamy’s eyes go wide as soon as Maya speaks, everything else forgotten.

The baby is strong enough to hear without an ultrasound machine. He meets Clarke’s eyes, his expression cracked open. That’s so big. His heart feels so full it’s bursting, spilling out all over – into his lungs, up his throat.

“Probably not the best idea,” Bellamy says, still a little too raspy. He does that thing with his tongue that always makes Clarke want to climb him, so she focuses on taking her clothes from him, beaming when he calls her his favorite pet name.

Getting dressed is easier than getting undressed was, because she’s able to wriggle her hips into her underwear and get her leggings on mostly by herself. She moves to Maya’s stool to put her sneakers on, wincing at the wet spot she leaves on the exam table. Clarke grabs a paper towel to wipe it, not looking at Bellamy, her cheeks burning. 

Then she hops back onto the table (well — hops is maybe an exaggeration) and Bellamy crosses the room to knock on the door. Maya swings it open and Bellamy smiles. “We’re good,” he says, his voice back to normal. Clarke lets out a breath.

“Good,” Maya says, following him into the room. She washes her hands again and then takes the stethoscope that’s been hanging around her neck for the duration of their appointment. “So since you’re almost twenty-four weeks, your baby’s heartbeat is actually strong enough to hear through a stethoscope,” she says, smiling. Clarke’s heart flips over — already? she wants to say, because that can’t be possible. Right?

“Oh,” she says instead, more breath than actual speech.

“So if you don’t mind rolling up your shirt, I’d love to listen,” Maya continues.

Clarke seeks out Bellamy with her eyes, finding him already staring at her. He looks cracked open, as shocked as he was the first time he heard the baby’s heartbeat. Clarke smiles, soft and a little awed. She swallows and reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up so Maya can place the stethoscope on her bump, all without breaking eye contact with Bellamy.

She apparently, has less self-control because she curls her fist in his Mordor Fun Run t-shirt and pulls him down for a kiss that’s slow and measured. Her tongue slides against his, a gentle tease that’s over too soon. “We can have sex when we get home,” she murmurs. “Help me tie this gown so we can find out what size beach ball I am.”

Bellamy breathes out a laugh, unable to help the way the words go to his gut. He puts her leggings on the exam bed with her shirt before walking behind her to knot the gown.

When Clarke’s set, she knocks on the door and alerts Maya. The midwife smiles in hello and wether she notices something between Bellamy and Clarke or not, she says nothing. Bellamy sits in the rocking chair, feeling heat on the back of his neck.

“Great,” Maya says, closing the exam door again and reaching for a long paper tape measure on the counter. “I’m going to measure you standing up, then I’m going to take a look at your cervix with you on the bed, okay?”

She waits for Clarke’s confirmation before reaching around Clarke with her measuring tools, taking all the information she needs onto the legal pad she’d returned with. “You look great,” Maya proclaims with a smile when she’s finished.

Bellamy laughs breathily and Clarke bites her lip, grinning as he tosses her leggings and underwear on the bed and grabs her gown. Clarke takes it from him and puts it on, shivering a little when his fingers brush against her back as he knots the gown. She closes her eyes for a long moment and takes a deep breath, willing herself to settle down. Maya wants to check her cervix, which means she’s going to know Clarke is a little wet, but there’s nothing Clarke can do about that now. Truth be told, at this point in her pregnancy, all Bellamy has to do is touch her hand and she gets a little wet.

Maya is probably used to that, as a midwife. Clarke hopes.

She crosses the room to knock on the door, letting Maya know she’s ready, and Bellamy retreats to the rocking chair in the corner. His neck is red, and the tips of his ears, and it’s so obvious they were being inappropriate while she was supposed to be getting changed.

But all Maya says is, “Great!” in her soft, musical voice. She retrieves a tape measure and stands in front of Clarke, smiling. “I’m going to measure you standing up, then I’m going to take a look at your cervix with you on the bed, okay?”

“Okay,” Clarke says. She smiles at Maya and lifts her arms so Maya can wrap the tape measure around her belly. She measures a few different places, including Clarke’s bust — “I’m still wearing my sports bra, sorry,” Clarke says, to which Maya just shakes her head and makes another note on her legal pad — and then sets her tools down.

“You look great,” Maya says, encouraging. “Now, for the cervix examination, I need you to lie on the exam table with your hips as close to the edge as you can get them without losing your balance. I’ll need you to spread your legs for me, as well.”

Clarke sits on the exam table, not looking at Bellamy because she knows she’s going to think about the times he’s eaten her out with her hips on the edge of their mattress, his big hands pressing her thighs apart to give himself plenty of access. She lays back and scoots down until her ass partially hangs off the bed.

Maya puts on a pair of rubber gloves and stands at Clarke’s feet, giving her another encouraging smile. “I’m going to spread your labia so that I can check out your cervix, just with a finger. No cold duck lips, okay?”

Clarke laughs. “Sounds good,” she says, nodding, as Maya pulls up her stool. Clarke spreads her legs, trying not to clam up or wince in anticipation of the tool Maya isn’t using. She’s gotten so used to these exams since she was in high school that her body is conditioned to hate them, but Maya’s hands are gentle and she talks as she works, keeping Clarke informed of what she’s doing.

Clarke looks over at Bellamy, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, and arches her eyebrows at him. She’s never had someone else in the room with her during one of these; not even her mom, when she was younger. It’s a little surreal, especially given the warmth she can still feel swimming around in her gut.

“Alright, you can sit up,” Maya says, and Clarke does her best to wriggle back up the bed. “Next we’ll check on the baby — do you want to get dressed first?”

“Please,” Clarke says. She sits up and gets a glimpse of Maya’s gloves, which are definitely more coated than they should be, and it makes her cheeks burn hot.

Maya gives her a nod, disposing of the gloves in a waste bin and washing her hands. “I’ll be in my office,” she says, as gentle as ever. “Just knock when you’re ready, like before.” Then she disappears, closing the door behind her, and Clarke blows out a breath.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Maya says with a gentle smile. She nods to Bellamy before ducking out of the exam room, “Just give a knock when you’re ready,” she says as she closes the door.

Clarke meets Bellamy’s eyes and raises her brow, smirking up at him. “Staying?” she asks, low and teasing.

Bellamy shrugs, hoping for deadpan but he can’t quite keep the grin off his face as she hands him the gown. “I’ve seen it all before,” he replies, dry despite the grin playing across his lips.

Clarke rolls her eyes and tugs off her shirt.

He knows, objectively, he shouldn’t stare. Or be completely undone by Clarke in just her sports bra, her skin glistening with a little sweat. But – she’s gorgeous. Pregnant with his child and stunning. Her boobs are definitely bigger, and while he’s not an asshole he can’t help but notice that kind of thing. He feels heat rush through his gut and he whets his lips.

She steps out of her sneakers and begins to pull at the thick waistband of her leggings before she stops, the leggings halfway down her thighs. Her mouth quirks down, just a flash. “I should have thought that through and sat first,” she says, soft. Her brow furrows.

He realizes, maybe belatedly, that she’s been sitting on the edge of their bed to get dressed, the last week or so. Unless she’s wearing a dress, which she just pulls over her head. She wears a lot of dresses.

Bellamy can’t help it, a chuckle escapes him, when he sees Clarke pouting at her leggings. He sets the gown down on the edge of the exam bed and steps closer. “Here,” he murmurs, too low.

He slides his hands down her thighs, fingertips running along the handful of stretch marks she has gracing one hip. Bellamy sinks, crouching down as his hands wrap around the gathered material of her leggings. He feels hot all over, too hot for the midwife’s office.

Bellamy turns his head and presses a kiss to the underside of her belly. “I should feel bad, right?” He asks, low, pulling her leggings down in a quick motion, “For being this turned on right now, right?”

He’s grinning when he presses a kiss to her thigh, then her hip. He taps her knee. “Step out of these so I can pick them up.”

To his credit, Bellamy tries hard to be deadpan when he says, “I’ve seen it all before.” But Clarke still catches the way he stares when she peels her shirt off and tosses it on the bed, the way his eyes trail down the line of her breasts (bigger now, and she knows they’ll probably get bigger still), over the smooth curve of her stomach. (He’s started taking stock of her stretch marks every night, using his hands and mouth to catalog each one as it appears; Clarke thinks she should probably be more self-conscious about how she looks, but the way Bellamy looks at her, touches her, kisses her just makes her want to be naked on their bed all the time.)

She also catches the way he whets his lips, because it sends a stroke of totally inappropriate heat straight to her core. She should have made him leave with Maya.

That thought quickly disappears when she realizes she can’t get her leggings off without sitting down, and she’s gotten used to the height of their bed to get dressed and undressed — which none of the furniture in the exam room, including the stool, matches. Bellamy laughs, soft, and Clarke nearly tells him off but then he’s setting aside the gown and stepping closer.

“Here,” he murmurs, his voice gone a full octave lower. Clarke shivers; she can’t help it, when he sounds like that, all gravel and heat.

Then his hands slide down her thighs, gathering the material of her leggings, and Clarke sucks in a breath as he sinks to a crouch. She keeps her hands on her stomach, to prevent herself from threading her fingers in his hair; they’re in Maya’s exam room. They can’t have sex here.

He kisses the underside of her belly and Clarke bites back a grin. “I should feel bad, right?” he asks, in the same gravelly voice. “For being this turned on right now, right?”

Clarke laughs, low and throaty. “You and me both,” she murmurs. 

Bellamy grins and kisses her thigh, then her hip, each press of his lips making her feel warmer. Then he pulls her leggings down in one smooth motion and taps her knee. “Step out of these so I can pick them up,” he says.

He’s a little afraid of what happens when the kid joins them, here for real. He thinks he’s going to be obsessed with putting his ear to their small chest and listening to the pitter-patter of their perfect heart.

Clarke grins up at him, her face a perfect mirror of his own – excitement in her eyes and a grin cracking light across her face. “Sounds perfect,” she says with a breathless laugh.

“Couldn’t agree more, Princess,” Bellamy whispers, the nickname slipping out of its own fond accord. He feels the back of his neck flush and he spares a glance to Maya, who seems utterly pleased. It makes Bellamy pause, blinking.

Well, that’s a surprising and different outcome.

“We’ll just have to pop into the exam room,” Maya says, cool and soft and gracious. She sets down her legal pad and pockets her pen in her scrub top, under her sweater. “If you’ll just follow me,” she says, rising out of her chair.

Clarke rolls her eyes and reaches for his jaw, giving him a brief kiss before she Clarke takes another second to grin at Bellamy, then turns towards where Maya’s began to walk. She pushes off the couch by leveraging herself on Bellamy’s knee and he can’t help but laugh, soft, as she stand, one hand on his knee and the other on her stomach.

The exam room is warmer than the rooms at the hospital. There’s the O'Keeffe print, and a Kilmt. Instead of a hard backed plastic chair, there’s a rocking chair with a cushion and a blanket. The exam table is like one he sees at his regular doctor – no stirrups. There’s a stool, next to the bed.

Maya is washing her hands in the sink, the sleeves of her cardigan rolled up. “I’d like to measure your bump’s diameter and take a look at your cervix before we hear the heartbeat,” she says with a smile as she shakes out her hands. “Do you mind stripping for me? I can give you a gown, if you want.”

“Couldn’t agree more, Princess,” Bellamy whispers. He goes red and glances past Clarke at Maya, who doesn’t sound bothered by their levels of affection at all. Clarke rolls her eyes and cups Bellamy’s jaw, turning him toward her for a brief kiss. She grins again and then turns, pushing herself off the couch with some difficulty.

Bellamy laughs at her and Clarke shoots him a playful glare once she’s standing, then reaches for him. “Come on,” she says, wiggling her fingers. He takes her hand and they follow Maya into the exam room, which is somehow just as cozy as her office.

There’s a Georgia O’Keefe print and a Klimt that Clarke loves. The bed is stirrup-free, there’s a rocking chair with a cushion and a blanket in the corner, and there are no obtrusive machines anywhere in sight. Clarke squeezes Bellamy’s hand, giving him a smile.

Maya finishes washing her hands and shakes them out, then reaches for a paper towel to dry them. “I’d like to measure your bump’s diameter and take a look at your cervix before we hear the heartbeat,” she says, smiling. “Do you mind stripping for me? I can give you a gown, if you want.”

“A gown would be good,” Clarke says, nodding. Maya pulls one out of a cupboard and Clarke drops Bellamy’s hand to take it from her.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Maya says. She ducks out of the room, pulling her sweater around her as she goes.