#piv

“You’re leaving again…?”

Upon seeing an all too familiar frown morph on your face, Telemachus tried to brush off the growing ache forming in his chest. He grasped your wrists, trailing his touch down to rub small circles onto the back of your hands. “It won’t be as long as last time, I promise”. He brought them up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on each one.

Your heart twisted watching the gesture. Eyes welling with tears as you gazed at him, you voiced, “you just came back…”. You had been tending to your weaving when he came into your shared chamber to break the news. The distance never became easy. If anything, it had become harder to say goodbye, fearing one day may be the last time you see him.

“I know”. His voice was hardly above a whisper, subdued underneath the unseen weight each departure held. “I know I have”. He tipped your chin up when you averted your gaze, trying to prevent any droplets from breaking through the barrier. Concern washing over his features, Telemachus felt his own eyes glaze over. “Athena will see to it that I come back to you again”.

He held your cheek, placing your other hand over his heart for balance. “You know I’ll do everything in my power to make that happen, yes…?” You wordlessly nod without hesitation, seeking grounding in his words. Embracing his forearm, you clung to him.

“When do you have to leave?”

“Tomorrow night”. As soon as he spoke, you drew your blurred vision to his chest, a few stray tears escaping in response. He caught the ones he could, gently swiping them away with his thumb. “My love…”. Telemachus pulled you into his hold, pressing your head against him while stroking the nape of your neck. You melted into the hug, wrapping your arms around his lower back for closeness. “Please, don’t be upset. You won’t be left alone for long…”.

You two stayed in that position for a moment, softly breathing as you absentmindedly caressed each other. After a few minutes, your tears stopped. Pulling back to peer up at him again, you took that opportunity to look over his features, engraving them within your mind’s eye once more. Telemachus did the same, a faint smile ghosting his lips while he did. Keeping a grasp on your cheek, he leaned in, brushing his nose against yours before placing a kiss on your lips. He placed several more pecks, beginning to walk you towards the bed.

Tugging on his garments, you urged him to remove his clothes. Once he did, his attention was drawn to your dress. It pooled around your ankles in one go, allowing you space to step out of the barrier. He followed as you crawled onto the bed, pulling him into your embrace. Reconnecting your lips, Telemachus settled in between your legs, gliding his length through your folds. You moaned, head spinning with need from his actions. Raking your nails across his broad shoulders, you locked your legs around his hips, bringing him flush against you.

He twitched at the feeling of your arousal coating the underside of his member. Breath hitching as he parted, he squeezed the soft flesh of your thighs, rubbing his hands up and down. Continuing the slow drag of his hips against you, his lips landed on your cheeks, affording both the same level of care and attention. Pausing once he reached your ear, he uttered, “there isn’t a day that goes by without you on my mind”.  Mewling when his tip nudged your clit, your stomach stirred, hearing the longing in his voice.

You prompted him to look at you, soothingly tracing his jaw as he did. Lining himself with your entrance, Telemachus inched inside, gliding along your warmth until he was fully sheathed. Maintaining measured eye contact, no words were exchanged yet enough was said through your bodies. He rested his forehead among yours, making sure you felt every emotion rooted in his veins alone. Pulsing around his length, your heart clenched when he started moving. Vision wavering now, you released a broken moan. The stretch alone was enough to send a spiral of pleasure through your core.

Curling your hand in his hair while grasping his cheek, you sealed your lips together. Groaning into your mouth, he set a steady rhythm rocking in and out. You briefly detached, grazing your nose against his to murmur, “I’ll be right here waiting for you”. The feeling that erupted in his chest was bittersweet. Telemachus couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you again but your unyielding faith that he would always come back was woven tight around his heart. Your words only spurring him on, he repositioned his hands under your thighs, shifting them at an angle.

Increasing the pace of his hips now, you had trouble keeping your eyes open as a sharp pang of arousal spread in your stomach. The lewd sound rising in volume from his calculated thrusts drifted into your ears. Releasing a shaky moan while the beginning signs of your orgasm bloomed, your grip on his jaw fell. No matter how much time has passed, Telemachus never grew tired of studying your expressions. Learning exactly what leaves a lasting imprint on you was one of his vices. Through hooded eyes, he watched your lips quiver and your brows furrow, deciding now would be the perfect moment to send you to that state.

Leaning within earshot, he grunted, tightening his hold on your thighs. A string of groans followed as you dropped your hand, clawing down his abdomen. Eyes fluttering shut at the sound, you released a sharp moan. Head falling back into the pillows now, every deep, precise stroke he gave fueled the heat swirling in your stomach. Thighs trembling in his grasp now, your back arched while waves of pleasure trickled throughout your body. Mind drifting into a haze, you ran your nails through his curls, pulsing around his length.

Your own orgasm triggering his, Telemachus tensed, burying himself to the hilt before spurts of cum coated your walls. He encircled your body, finding your lips to give you another kiss. Reluctantly parting for air, he turned his attention to your cheeks, placing several lingering pecks on you. A warm smile spread across your face at the feeling. Pulling back to peer at you clearly, he voiced, “I love you”. Wrapping both arms around his shoulders again, you soothingly rubbed your fingers along his skin.

“I love you too”

Thank you for reading, feedback is always appreciated!

You rolled your lips between your teeth as you bit back your grin, settling further against his shoulder to watch the end of his game. 

“How was your day?” he asked after a beat, lips brushing the shell of your ear tenderly, his words punctuated by the tapping of his keyboard. 

“Eh, it was okay,” you murmured, your fingers busying themselves absentmindedly with the zip on his hoodie. 

“Just okay?” His brow creased a little with concern, his attention perfectly balanced between you and his game. 

“Nothing eventful,” you clarified, sliding your fingers up to brush along his jaw. He leaned into the touch without hesitation. “It’s better now I’m here.”

He huffed a quiet laugh at the cheesiness, pressing a lingering kiss to your hairline.

“You staying the night?” 

The hope in his voice was impossible to miss, matched only by the way his eyes darted to you, lingering a fraction too long. His whole body seemed to tense a little in anticipation. 

“Your dad said it was okay before I even had to ask.” 

That got a surprised huff out of him, his brows lifting. “Impressive. He’s probably said more to you today than he has to me all week.”

The joke was light, but his jaw tightened as he said it. You offered a small, sad smile, tracing the crease at the corner of his mouth with your gaze.

“You know…” you started, your voice low, drawing his attention instinctively, the perfect distraction brewing in the back of your mind. “I really missed you today.”

“I missed you too, baby,” his lips twitched into a smile. You could only roll your eyes. 

“No, Ty…” you pulled at the zip of his hoodie slowly, “I really missed you today.” 

You saw the moment it finally clicked, his soft grin quickly becoming a smirk. 

“Yeah?” It was more of a breath than a word. 

“Mm-hmm.” You leaned up, peppering featherlight kisses under his jaw, biting back your smile when his fingers hesitated on the keyboard.

He turned his head quickly, capturing your teasing lips with his, the ghost of a groan escaping his throat as you sat up into it, your weight on his lap putting pressure where he so very suddenly needed it. 

With a shaky hand he tugged off his headset, the plastic clattering to the desk as his free hand found your waist, squeezing as he deepened the kiss.

“You’re gonna lose your game,” you muttered against his lips, smirking as he chased them. 

“Fuck the game.” 

You laughed softly against his lips as he leaned forward, lips never leaving yours, a firm hand around your waist keeping you securely tucked against him as his fingers sought blindly for the volume control on his speaker, hurried fingertips turning the sound up enough to muffle the sighs he knew would soon pour from your lips, unashamed, involuntary. 

He knew you could never help yourself. 

Leaning back, his hands moved as if to carry you to his bed, slipping beneath your thighs, only for you to push him against his chair gently, your hand flush against his chest. 

“Wha–“ 

Before he could finish, you were already moving, standing just long enough to climb back over him. Your knees slid into the small spaces at either side of his hips, your skirt bunching slightly as you settled into his lap again.

Your hands came to rest on his shoulders, fingers curling into the plush fabric of his hoodie. They brushed the soft skin at the base of his neck, and he leaned forward at once, lips chasing yours like he couldn’t help himself.

The kiss he caught was slower this time – still eager, still warm, but softened by the way his thumb traced over your hip as though grounding himself. They were no less needy, however, his tongue rolling over yours not for dominance, but just to feel you close in any way possible, as if he craved you, taking his time but unable to hold back all at once. 

His hands, slightly calloused from the odd occasion he helped his dad with handy jobs, slid up your thighs slowly, fingers squeezing softly where they met your hips, grounding you even as heat coiled low in your stomach, as yours worked into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently, pulling a groan from his chest, the sound rumbling through you and setting your nerves alight. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips, voice rough and breathy as he barely pulled away. “You know that, right?”

A laugh bubbled softly out of you, your chest warming. “Yeah,” you whispered, brushing your thumb along his jaw as he dipped his head, “I know.”

He pressed featherlight kisses along the curve of your throat, each one slower than the last, his lips dragging slowly over your pulsepoint, warm breath sending shivers over your skin.

His fingers curled against the edges of your underwear, not desperately, nothing frantic, just fingertips brushing over fabric and skin, as if he was trying to anchor you to him, as if you would ever leave.

“Can I?” 

You couldn’t do anything but nod, your mouth finding his again as he glanced up at you, pupils blown, his fingers slipping down, brushing over the now damp fabric slowly and slipping it to the side. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he continued kissing you languidly, fingers dipping between your folds to gather the growing wetness at the apex of your thighs and spread it up slowly, rolling his fingers idly over your clit, the map of your body so well perfected in his mind by now. 

The sigh that left your lips was near biblical, your head dropping forward, forehead resting against his as you relaxed into his arms, his chest your only support, gripping the fabric of his hoodie as if it were your lifeline as he worked you slowly, his own breaths coming out in short pants. 

He swore he could have come undone just watching you, swollen lips parted with each desperate breath, brows furrowing in concentration, lashes brushing your cheeks as your eyes fluttered shut. 

Two fingers teased your entrance, pressing into you slowly, stretching you out like something fragile, as if he had the rest of his life to explore you. 

His ability to pull you apart was like no other, fingers pressing, scissoring, curling in all the right places, having you bucking against his palm in mere minutes, hot heavy breaths mixed with his name the only sounds your lungs can muster. 

“Ty—” your gasp was broken as your hand came down to paw at his wrist, fingers wrapping loosely around him, not quite tugging him away, but not holding him to you either. “No teasing. Just want to feel you.” 

“Okay, okay, I got you–“. His chuckle was breathy, cheeks dimpled with a boyish grin as he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

He wasted no time tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants, lifting his hips as you leveraged yourself on your knees.

You leaned back a little as he worked on freeing himself, resting a hand against the desk as you pulled open and reached into the top drawer, fishing out a condom from their usual stash, tearing it open shakily. 

Tyler only groaned when you wrapped your hand around his leaking member, heavy in your palm, stroking it a few times on instinct before rolling the condom over him snugly, sitting up again to hover above the tip, dragging it teasingly through your slick.

“Fuck, baby–” he sighed as you sank down on him, his stranger breaths mixing with the tinny sounds of his game menu as they echoed from the abandoned headset on his desk, barely hidden by his playlist. 

The stretch was delicious. You couldn't help but let a moan escape your lips, matched and swallowed by his own breathy groan as he bottomed out. His eyes fluttered shut, head hitting the rest on his chair as his fingers clutched at your waist, holding you down against him. 

You sat for a moment, relishing the feeling of being full, complete, again. 

“You feel so perfect–” 

Your hips rolled against his slowly, tension coiling in your stomach even as you relaxed into him, breathy moans bouncing off of one another as you both lost yourselves in the closeness. 

There was something in the way his hands gripped your waist, fingers brushing skin as the hem of your top rode up. It wasn’t demanding, not guiding nor rushing, just holding you against him, letting you take what you needed gladly, as if that would be enough to sustain him for life. So long as you were happy. 

It was impossible to focus, your head swimming as he surrounded you – his hands on your waist, his lips against your throat, his thighs beneath yours, his chest against yours. 

It was dizzying in the best way. 

“You’re so beautiful like this.” It was barely a whisper, and for a moment you wondered if he even realised he had said it aloud until your eyes fluttered open, finding his already trained on your face, pupils blown wide. 

Your swollen lips parted with a soft gasp, not, this time, at the feeling of him, but at the way he looked at you – with more love than either of you could muster into words. 

You could do nothing but press forward again, lips capturing his fervently, allowing one another to swallow each others moans as you chased your highs. 

Your hand left his chest and curled into his hair, your nails scratching against his scalp, grinning at the shudder that racked through his spine as you pulled his head back gently, leaning down to connect your lips to his throat, sucking on his pulse point as his heart went wild beneath your tongue. 

Tyler’s hand slipped between you again, exchanging the heat of your skin for that between your thighs. His fingers rolled diligently over your sensitive clit — a little clumsily, at this angle, but with no less fervour, recalling the perfect map of your body, memorised distinctly.

“I’m–“ you could barely gather the words. The backs of your knees were growing tacky as your thighs tired, your hips reverting to rocking against him as the pressure built. 

The broken whimper that escaped you was pornographic at best, desperate at its worst. 

“Shh, baby,” Tyler’s voice was tight, his breath fanning your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours, eyes flicking across your face even as your eyes fluttered shut.  Can’t–“ he sucked in a broken breath as you sank down on him again “–can’t let my dad hear.”

Your only response was yet another whine – quieter, this time. Muffled by his lips as as swallowed the noises you made, his tongue rolling across yours dampening his own impatient groans as his hips bucked in stony up into you as you tired. 

“That’s it,” his lips brushed yours as he spoke, sharing your air, “I’ve got you, I’m gonna–“

Your jaw dropped, brow furrowing as you came undone. Your legs gave out, stilling atop of him as he pulsed inside your fluttering walls, fingers stilling against your heat as you panted, clinging to one another. 

The faint sounds of his headphones continued to echo out behind you, but neither of you paid it any attention as Tyler helped you lift yourself slowly from him. You hissed at the sudden empty feeling, thankful for his hands in yours as you stood on shaken legs. 

It was impossible to not cringe as your underwear slid back into place, the damp fabric now cold, the slick uncomfortable. 

Tyler didn’t miss it, of course, even as he slid off the condom and tied it off, tossing it in the trash can beneath his desk. 

“I still have some of your spares in my drawer,” he reminded you softly, tucking himself back in haphazardly and standing with you, ghosting a fleeting kiss to your hairline. “And you already know where your pyjamas are.” 

He matched the soft smirk that settled on your lips as he passed you, opening his bedroom door quietly and checking the corridor before slipping out to the bathroom. 

You wasted no time in changing, pulling on the T-shirt and flannel PJ pants that had once been Tyler’s, but had long been designated yours. 

You’d barely had time to sink into his sheets, the duvet ridiculously soft, smelling overwhelmingly of Tyler, before he came back, a lopsided grin spreading slowly at how comfortable you looked. 

“Nah-ah. Bathroom, now,” he raised a brow, as he looked at you pointedly, hand still resting on the door handle. 

“Tyler—,” your groan was pathetic, you knew that. And it was an argument you knew you wouldn’t win. 

“You want a UTI?” He posed, opening the door for you and gesturing out of it as you huffed, pulling your now tired muscles from his mattress in a way that could only be considered as grossly over dramatic.

He huffed a curt laugh as you ducked under his arm. “Thank you.” 

You paused just briefly as you stepped out, poking your head back around the door, finding him turning off this computer. “Cuddles when I’m back?” 

His raised brow made your lips twitch, smile widening. “Who do you take me for?” 

The rover shudders as Bellamy cuts the engine, the sudden quiet almost deafening after the low mechanical growl of the ride. Snow dusts the windshield in soft, lazy flakes, already sticking where the heat from the engine had been moments ago.

“Well,” Bellamy says, glancing out at the wall of trees ahead, “this is as close as we’re getting.”

You unclip your harness a little harder than necessary. Of course he’d say it like that. Like the whole thing was obvious and you were the idiot for expecting anything else.

“Great,” you mutter. “Love a hike through a frozen forest. Really adds to the charm of possibly dying.”

He snorts, opening his door. “You complain like this on every mission, or am I just special?”

You shoot him a look as you follow him out, boots crunching immediately into packed snow. The cold slaps you in the face, sharp and unkind, seeping into every gap in your gear. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, jaw already tense.

“Trust me,” you say, slinging your pack higher on your shoulder, “you’re not special. You’re just… loud about being annoying.”

Bellamy pauses, turning slowly, one eyebrow lifting. That stupid, infuriating expression he always wore when he thought he was winning something.

“Wow,” he says.

You brush past him.

The bunker entrance is half-buried, concrete jutting out from the snow like a scar in the earth. From a distance, it looks promising— intact door, no obvious structural damage, no signs of collapse. The kind of place that makes command optimistic and sends you out with someone you can’t stand.

You can feel Bellamy’s eyes on your back as you approach, and the awareness sets your nerves on edge. You hate that he watches. Hate that he always seems to notice things. Hate that despite being a prick, he’s competent— worse, reliable.

“Tracks,” he says, crouching near the entrance. “Old. Probably scavengers. Maybe months ago.”

You force yourself to focus, kneeling beside him and inspecting the markings. He’s right. That annoys you too.

“So the place isn’t untouched,” you say.

“Never said it was.” He straightens, looking up at the sky. The clouds are thickening, heavy and low, pressing down on the world. Snow is falling faster now. “But it’s not recently hit either. Still worth checking.”

You follow his gaze, a tight knot forming in your stomach. The light is already dimmer than it should be for this time of day.

“We’re going to get snowed in,” you say flatly.

Bellamy looks back at you. “We’ve got a couple hours.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” he agrees, calm as ever, “but sitting around arguing about it won’t make it better.”

You bite back a retort, pushing past him toward the door. The metal is cold beneath your gloves as you work the latch, the hinges groaning but holding.

Inside, the bunker smells stale— old air, dust, something metallic. Your flashlight beam cuts through the darkness, illuminating rows of shelves, most of them stripped bare. But not all.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, spotting sealed crates stacked against the far wall.

Bellamy’s already moving, inspecting labels. “Medical supplies. Rations. Some tech.”

You hate how impressed he sounds. Hate how a small, traitorous spark of relief flares in your chest.

“This could actually help,” you say quietly.

“Yeah,” he replies, softer now. “It could.”

The wind howls suddenly, loud enough that you both freeze. Snow slams against the bunker door, rattling it in its frame.

Your stomach drops.

“That’s not good,” you whisper.

Bellamy strides back to the entrance, trying the door. It resists— not fully blocked yet, but heavier than before.

“We finish fast,” he says. “Load what we can.”

Another gust hits, stronger this time, and the lights flicker as your flashlight beam shakes in your hand.

And then the door slams shut.

The sound echoes through the bunker, final and absolute.

You stare at it, heart pounding. “Tell me that didn’t just—”

Bellamy’s already moving, bracing his shoulder against the door and pushing. It doesn’t budge.

“Okay,” he says carefully. Too carefully. “That’s not ideal.”

Your breath comes out in a shaky laugh. “You said we had a couple hours.”

He shoots you a look. “You said we’d get snowed in. Congratulations.”

You sink down onto one of the crates, rubbing your face with your gloved hands. This is your nightmare. Trapped. Cold. And stuck with Bellamy Blake, of all people.

“This is my worst day,” you mutter.

Bellamy exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. For the first time, he doesn’t look smug. He looks… tired.

You swallow, staring at him longer than you mean to. For someone you dislike so much, he’s maddeningly steady in moments like this.

You hate that too.

He’s the first one to move.

“Radio,” he says, already shrugging his pack off and digging through it. “If we’re stuck, they need to know where.”

You push yourself up from the crate, numb fingers protesting as you fumble for your own walkie. “Assuming it works.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try.”

You flick the switch, the familiar hiss of static filling the bunker. It’s loud in the quiet space, sharp and uneven, like the air itself is tearing.

“Arkadia, this is—” You pause, correcting yourself. “—this is Unit Two. Do you copy?”

Static answers you.

Bellamy steps closer, leaning in like proximity alone might help. “Arkadia, come in. Supply run team at Grid Seven-Four. We’re at the bunker.”

The radio crackles, spitting noise back at you. You exchange a look— equal parts frustration and dread.

You try again. “We’re snowed in. Hatch is blocked. Repeat, snowed in.”

For a long moment, there’s nothing but the storm screaming through the walls.

Then— faintly— something cuts through.

“…—Two… do you—”

You stiffen. “I hear them.”

Bellamy grabs the radio, thumb pressing the button harder than necessary. “Arkadia, repeat last. You’re breaking up.”

The response comes in broken fragments, words swallowed by static and interference.

“…blizzard… heavy… visibility—”

You strain to listen, heart hammering. Bellamy glances at you, brows knit tight.

“…should… clear… morning—”

The signal dissolves into noise again.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “I heard it.”

You raise the radio again. “Arkadia, confirm—did you say morning?”

Nothing.

The walkie emits one final burst of static before going dead.

You stare at it, then at Bellamy. “That’s it?”

“That’s all we’re getting,” he says. “Storm’s messing with the signal.”

You want to argue. Want more certainty than probably and should. But the reality is already pressing in from all sides.

“So we wait,” you say, flat.

Bellamy nods. “We wait the night. Check again at first light.”

The words the night settle heavily in your chest.

Silence settles between you, thick and heavy, broken only by the wind screaming outside and the quiet realization sinking in.

You’re snowed in.

Together.

You glance around the bunker again, really seeing it now through the lens of time instead of task. The concrete walls. The single room. The lack of insulation. The cold creeping in slowly, methodically, like it knows it has all the time in the world.

“Great,” you mutter. “Sleepover from hell.”

Bellamy ignores that, already moving toward the shelves again. “We need to conserve heat.”

As if on cue, you shiver.

The temperature is dropping fast now that the adrenaline has worn off. Your breath fogs faintly in front of your face. You rub your hands together, trying to generate some warmth, and immediately regret not bringing thicker gloves.

You start pulling down blankets, stacking them in a pile near the center of the bunker. Bellamy does the same, his movements efficient but quieter now.

“Candles,” he says, spotting a small crate near the back. He pries it open, relief flickering across his face. “Not much, but it’ll help.”

You watch as he lights one, the small flame flaring to life. The bunker shifts instantly— shadows dancing along the walls, the space feeling less abandoned, less hostile. You light a few more, spacing them out carefully.

The warmth is minimal, but it’s something.

You wrap a blanket around your shoulders, sinking down against the wall. The cold seeps through anyway, settling deep in your bones.

Bellamy sits across the room, his own blanket draped over his shoulders, candlelight carving sharp lines across his face. He looks different like this— less abrasive, more human and you hate that your brain notices.

Outside, the storm rages on, relentless and merciless.

The bunker goes quiet in a way that feels deliberate.

Not the storm— because the storm is still there, roaring above you, shaking the walls in low, distant rumbles— but the space between you and Bellamy. No movement. No talking. Just the occasional flicker of candlelight and the slow creep of cold seeping through concrete and bone alike.

You curl tighter into yourself in the far corner, knees drawn up, blanket wrapped around your shoulders like it might actually do something. It doesn’t. The cold finds you anyway, sneaking into the spaces between your ribs, settling deep in your joints.

You tell yourself you’re fine.

You tell yourself you’ve been colder. That this is nothing. That you’re not about to give him the satisfaction of seeing you fold.

Your breath comes out in what feels like it should show up in small clouds. Your fingers ache. You shove them under your arms, jaw clenched.

Across the bunker, Bellamy shifts.

You don’t look at him. You don’t want to know if he’s watching. You don’t want to give him anything.

“This is stupid,” he says finally.

You stiffen. "What are you talking about?”

“I’m serious.” He sounds irritated now, like he’s been holding it in. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine.”

He lets out a sharp breath. “You’re not fine. Stop being so damn proud and come over here. We share body heat. That’s how this works.”

You laugh softly, humorless. “I’d rather freeze.”

“That can be arranged,” he mutters.

You pull the blanket tighter and turn your face toward the wall, pretending the cold isn’t making your teeth ache, pretending your hands aren’t starting to tremble.

You hear him shift again. The scrape of fabric. The low sigh of frustration.

Then— betrayal.

Your teeth chatter, the sound sharp and unmistakable in the quiet space.

There’s a pause.

From across the room, Bellamy sucks his teeth.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters.

You hear him stand. You stay rigid, heart pounding, irritation flaring because you knew this would happen. You knew he wouldn’t let it go.

Footsteps approach. Close. Too close.

“Don’t,” you say, low and warning.

He ignores you.

Bellamy drops down beside you, close enough that your shoulder bumps his. Before you can react, he slides himself in your blanket and swings one side of his other blanket over you, draping another around your back and shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your bodies are fully pressed together now— side to side, hip to thigh, shoulder to shoulder.

The warmth hits you immediately.

It’s impossible not to notice. It’s even harder to resist curling into it, but somehow you do.

Bellamy radiates heat, solid and steady, cutting through the cold in a way the blankets never could. Your muscles loosen before you can stop them, a soft, traitorous sigh slipping from your lips.

You huff instead, irritated at yourself. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he says simply.

You don’t thank him. You refuse to acknowledge how much better this feels. You keep your gaze fixed ahead, jaw tight.

For a while, neither of you speaks.

The silence returns, but it’s different now— crowded, charged, filled with the awareness of him. Every rise and fall of his chest. Every shift of his weight against you. The steady warmth at your side.

You hate how comforting it is.

You exhale sharply, staring at the concrete floor. “Why do you even care?”

Bellamy tilts his head slightly, glancing down at you. “Because you’re part of my team.”

You scoff. “Could’ve fooled me.”

That earns you a quiet huff of amusement. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

You tense. “That’s never a good sign.”

He looks ahead again, voice thoughtful. “Why did you agree to this mission if you hate me so much?”

The question lands heavier than you expect.

You don’t answer right away.

The storm howls above you. The candle flame flickers.

“I don’t hate you,” you say finally.

He turns toward you, clearly surprised. “Could’ve sworn.”

You glare at the wall. “I said I don’t hate you. I just… really don’t like you.”

He lets out a quiet laugh. “That’s comforting.”

“I’m serious.” You shift slightly, still careful not to pull away. “Everyone in Arkadia could use those supplies. Medical kits, blankets, food— especially in winter. That’s why I came. Not for you.”

He nods slowly, absorbing that. “Okay. Then why don’t you like me?”

You go still.

He watches you now, openly curious. Not defensive. Not mocking.

“I mean it,” he adds. “I’ve tried to figure it out. Never could.”

The warmth at your side feels suddenly heavier, more noticeable.

You swallow.

“Cause you're an arrogant, egotistical, control freak.”

He jerks his head back just a little bit in surprise at your words, “What? How?”

“I said what I said.” You sat unmoving, with a noncommittal shrug.

“No, you can't just say that and not give an explanation. Believe it or not, I’m actually trying to figure out why you think this and if I can fix it.”

You sit back, taking in his words.

For a moment, you consider brushing it off. Giving him something vague. Something easy. But the bunker is quiet, the storm relentless, and his warmth is still pressed into your side like a steady reminder that there’s nowhere to retreat to— not physically, not now.

So you tell the truth.

“It started when we first landed,” you say quietly.

Bellamy doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t move. He just listens.

“When everything was chaos. When no one knew what the hell we were doing, and everyone was scared out of their minds.” You stare straight ahead, candlelight blurring slightly as memories surface whether you want them to or not. “You stepped up fast. Took control. And everyone just… followed.”

You let out a slow breath. “At first, I thought it was impressive.”

He shifts beside you, almost imperceptibly.

“But then,” you continue, “I started seeing the rest of it.”

You glance at him briefly, then away again.

“The way you acted like nothing touched you. Like the ground couldn’t break you. Like consequences were optional.” Your jaw tightens. “You slept with half the camp. Girls throwing themselves at you like it was some kind of badge of honor. Like proximity to you meant safety, or power, or— hell, I don’t know— importance.”

Bellamy exhales softly through his nose, but he still doesn’t cut in.

“I never understood it,” you say. “I never wanted to.”

Your fingers curl into the blanket. “You looked selfish. Arrogant. Like you thought you were untouchable.”

His voice is low when he finally speaks. “That’s what you saw?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. “That’s what you showed.”

Silence stretches again, thicker now. You realized it felt nice to get this out.

You push on before you can second-guess yourself.

“Obviously you’re attractive,” you add. “Anyone with eyes could see that. But— It wasn’t just your looks—it was the way you carried yourself. Like you always had a plan. Like things bent around you instead of the other way around.” You huff quietly. “People gravitate toward that. Especially when they’re scared.”

Bellamy’s shoulder presses a fraction closer, though he still doesn’t touch you with his hands.

“But I didn’t,” you say. “That was probably the last thing I wanted.”

Your throat tightens, unexpected.

“And somehow,” you add, quieter now, “I was always near you anyway.”

He turns his head slightly. “Inner circle.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Command. Clarke. You. Me. Octavia.” You shake your head faintly. “Being close didn’t mean I liked you. It just meant I saw more.” You hesitate, then admit, “You watched me a lot.”

Bellamy stiffens.

“I noticed,” you say, unable to stop yourself now. “I never knew why. I figured maybe it was because I didn’t fall in line. Because I didn’t laugh at your jokes or look at you like you were untouchable.” You finally glance at him, meeting his eyes. “Maybe it bothered you that I stood up to you. That I didn’t take your shit, or let you into my pants because you’re cute.”

A beat.

The candle flickers.

Bellamy looks down at his hands, then back up at the wall ahead of you both. When he speaks, there’s no defensiveness in his voice. Just something raw, unsettled.

“So you thought I was an arrogant guy with an ego.”

You shrug slightly. “Yeah.”

“And you still think that?” he asks.

You hesitate. “I think you were.”

That makes him let out a breath—not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

“And now?”

You lean your head back against the wall, eyes closing briefly. “Now I think you’re still an ass. Just… a more complicated one.”

That earns a quiet, surprised huff from him.

“Fair,” he says.

The air is still between you two for a couple silent moments.

“Can I say what I think now?” He breaks the silence and you raise an eyebrow at him.

You open your eyes and turn your head just enough to look at him, one eyebrow lifting despite yourself. “Since when has that ever stopped you?”

A corner of his mouth twitches, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t think that’s all it is.”

“What?” you ask, genuinely confused, irritation already curling low in your stomach.

“That you don’t like me because I was arrogant.” He shakes his head once, decisive. “That’s the excuse.”

Your spine straightens instantly, tension snapping through you like a pulled wire. The warmth you’d been reluctantly accepting suddenly feels intrusive.

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel,” you say sharply.

“No,” he agrees easily. “But I get to tell you what I see.”

You scoff, short and biting. “Oh, this should be good.”

Bellamy shifts, turning his body so his torso faces you fully now. The movement brings him closer, knees angled toward yours, shoulders squared. He leans forward just slightly, voice low but steady.

“You use disliking me as cover,” he says. “Because it’s easier than admitting you might feel something else.”

Your head jerks back as if he’s physically struck you. “That’s not—”

He cuts you off without raising his voice. “You didn’t just happen to notice every time I slept with someone.” His eyes stay locked on yours, unflinching. “You didn’t just happen to be watching.”

Heat flares in your chest— anger, embarrassment, something dangerously close to panic.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snap, jaw tight, hands curling into fists beneath the blanket.

He doesn’t back off. If anything, he leans in closer, closing the already narrow space between you. “Then look me in the eyes,” he says quietly, “and tell me you don’t want me.”

The challenge lands heavy.

Your heart slams against your ribs. You turn fully toward him now, faces barely a foot apart. Candlelight flickers across his features, catching in his eyes, making them look darker than they should.

“I don’t want you,” you say, each word clipped, your face burning with barely contained rage and frustration.

Something sharp and unreadable flashes across his expression.

“Prove it,” he says.

That’s it.

Something in you snaps— clean and sudden. Before your brain can catch up, before you can stop yourself, you surge forward and kiss him.

It’s brief. Sharp. All teeth and heat and impulse.

Just a few seconds— just long enough to make your point.

Bellamy freezes for a split second, stunned, breath hitching against your lips. And then he’s kissing you back.

Not gentle. Not hesitant.

The contact is electric, a jolt that runs straight through you, lighting up every nerve. His mouth moves against yours with a familiarity that shouldn’t exist, like he’s been waiting for this, like he knows exactly how to fit against you.

You pull away abruptly, breath already unsteady. “There,” you say, voice a little breathless despite yourself. “Happy?”

You watch his eyes darken instantly. His jaw tightens. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips, slow and deliberate, and the sight makes your stomach flip traitorously.

The bunker is silent except for the storm and the sound of both of you breathing a little too hard.

Then Bellamy moves.

He surges forward and kisses you again, harder this time, all pent-up tension and heat and years of unspoken friction crashing together at once. You gasp softly against his mouth, hands instinctively coming up to brace against his chest— and instead of pushing him away, you kiss him back.

Fully. Fiercely.

For a few dizzying moments, there’s nothing but him—his warmth, his mouth, the solid press of his body against yours. The cold vanishes entirely, replaced by a spreading heat that curls low in your stomach and steals your breath.

And then your mind catches up.

You shove at his chest, breaking the kiss, pulling back with a sharp inhale. “Stop—”

Bellamy freezes instantly, hands lifting away from you, eyes searching your face.

Your chest heaves as you stare at each other, confusion and want mirrored in his gaze. The air between you feels charged, alive, humming with something dangerous and undeniable.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves.

Then— because apparently you have learned absolutely nothing— you grab his jacket and pull him back in.

This kiss is just as heated as the last, a mess of clashing teeth and tongues, like you’re both testing something you already know is going to burn you. The candlelight flickers wildly against the walls as you lean into him, the chill of the bunker completely forgotten, replaced by heat and breath and the pounding of your heart.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this.

The thought flashes through your mind, sharp and insistent, even as your mouth stays pressed to his. Even as you lean into him like your body has already decided something your brain hasn’t caught up with yet. You had just laid it all out— every reason, every irritation, every carefully built wall you’d stacked between you and Bellamy Blake over the years.

And now here you are, kissing him like you’re starving.

It makes no sense. It shouldn’t feel like this.

His lips are warm and insistent, moving against yours with a familiarity that makes your stomach twist. There’s something dangerously addictive about the way he kisses you— like he’s not rushing, but he’s not hesitating either. Like he knows exactly how close to push without you pulling away.

You tell yourself to stop.

Instead, you chase the taste of him, chasing that soft, intoxicating pull that sinks deeper every second you stay here. His lips taste faintly sweet, like something you weren’t meant to have but took anyway, and now you can’t remember how to want anything else.

His hands find your waist.

The contact makes you suck in a breath, your fingers tightening briefly in the fabric of his jacket. His grip is firm but not rough, thumbs pressing into your sides like he’s grounding himself—or you. Slowly, deliberately, his hands move, sliding along your torso, down over your hips, then back up again, like he’s mapping you out, memorizing.

It sends heat racing through you, sharp and sudden.

You break the kiss just long enough to breathe. “This—” Your voice comes out unsteady, betraying you immediately. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

Bellamy doesn’t even let you finish.

He kisses you again, deeper this time, silencing the words before they can turn into something real. His mouth is relentless now, coaxing, persuading, like he knows exactly how fragile your resolve is in this moment.

“Bellamy—” you try, but it dissolves into a quiet sound when his hand shifts, when his body presses closer.

You feel him move, feel his knee nudge between yours, and then he’s guiding you without asking— encouraging your leg up, his grip steady and sure. There’s barely time to think before you comply, before your leg hooks over his, and then the other follows.

You’re straddling him.

The realization hits you all at once, a rush of heat and disbelief. You settle into his lap, instinctively adjusting, your hands bracing against his shoulders as the closeness becomes overwhelming. His warmth surrounds you, solid and undeniable, and the last remnants of the cold bunker fade into nothing.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, forehead briefly resting against yours.

You pull back just enough to look at him, heart racing. “I still don’t like you,” you insist, like saying it out loud might make it true again.

His lips curve, not quite a smile. “Sure,” he says softly, amused. “That’s why you’re sitting on me.”

You scowl and kiss him again, hard, biting and frustrated. “This doesn’t mean anything,” you repeat between kisses, like a mantra.

He huffs out a quiet laugh against your mouth. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true,” you snap, breathless.

“Right,” he says, voice low, hands tightening briefly at your waist. “You hate me so much you can’t keep your mouth off mine.”

“Fuck you,” you say without thinking, the words tumbling out heated and raw.

Something dark and amused flashes in his eyes.

“Careful what you wish for,” Bellamy murmurs before going to attack your neck with hips lips.

The words send a shiver straight through you and you gasp as he tightly squeezes your ass with both hands. He sucks the tender spot under your ear and you find yourself rolling your hips, grinding down on his hardening, clothed cock. He groans at the movement.

Your hands find their way to his curls, weaving them through and clinging on as you repeat the motion with your hips again. 

He lets out a strangled groan, this time louder and with a bite to your neck. You yelp out at the sting and he freezes, hands clamping down on your waist, halting your movement. 

“Shit,” he breathes, “Stop doing that.”

You look down at him with a quirked eyebrow, “Why? Can’t handle it?”

His dark eyes don’t even meet yours for an explanation, instead he just yanks your body, switching positions so he’s hovering over you, your back now to the floor. You let out a small squeak at the abrupt movement. When you look up to his eyes above you, suddenly you don’t feel as confident anymore.

His eyes are dark and his tongue darts out to wet his swollen lips, his hair slightly hanging down. The sight was something you never thought you’d see first hand— you always hoped you never would— but something about the way he looked down at you had your lower abdomen swirling with heated desire and your hands moving to tug his shirt up from the bottom. 

Quickly he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside before rearranging the blankets across you both. But you didn’t feel the need for the blankets anymore, you were definitely not cold anymore, in fact, you were increasingly warm and you felt yourself wanting to take off your shirt with his.

Seemingly, Bellamy had the same idea as he tugged your shirt off as well, leaving you bare under him, your chest rising and falling with every quick breath you took.

He stared down at you with a look of hunger you had never seen on his face and it almost scared you. 

“Fuck,” he mutters.

You swallowed, unsure of how you felt being under his gaze this way. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

His eyes tore themselves from your chest and met your own with a glint of challenge in his gaze. He bends his neck down and you watch as he licks a stripe on the expanse of your sternum, his tongue leaving a glossy trail on your skin in its wake. 

“Forgot my camera.” He murmurs and you feel his hand dip into the front waistband of your pants and into your damp underwear. You draw in a breath as his fingers trail over your core, not yet touching yet. “You always get this wet for guys you don’t want?” His voice questions low.

Defiantly, you tilt your chin up, not wanting to answer his snide question.

“Come on, answer,” he speaks again, lowering his head once again, this time to take one of your hard nipples into his mouth. Your mouth drops open and you find yourself shaking your head. He sees your motion of admission and lets go of your nipple with a pop, “So this is all for me then.”

You wished he would stop all this talking and just get on with it.

“Blake,” you warn and he just smirks. 

Out of nowhere, you feel two of his large fingers enter your sopping core and you moan.

“So fucking wet,” he mutters, dragging them in and out in a lazily slow rhythm.

“Shit!” Moans tumble from your mouth before you can stop them and he increases his pace, adding a thumb to your clit, the sensation dizzying.

You feel the coil in your lower abdomen tightening faster than you care to admit to anyone. When he adds a curling motion to his fingers thrusts, you see stars. It only takes a few more strokes for you to come apart on his fingers. 

Now, you were grateful to be alone in this bunker with him with how loud you were being. You gathered your bearings quickly when he withdrew his hand from your underwear, but he began tugging off your pants shortly after and you gulped as your hands fumble for the button at the front of his pants.

He gets your pants tugged down your legs and moves on to help you pull his own pants down, leaving him in nothing but his tattered, old boxers. His erection was obvious. Hard and obvious.

The space between you is still for a moment, and you reach your hand down tentatively, slipping your hand into the fabric and grabbing hold of his length. His shuddering breath is instant.

You move to stroke him. Once. Twice. His arm shoots out to grab your wrist, halting your movement with a shaky groan. A few beats pass and he slowly pulls your hand from himself, seemingly gathering his own bearings. Your arms move again, this time to tug off the boxers. He lets you.

The fabric moved out of the way easily, his cock springing free— thick and rigid, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.

The bunker’s interior felt even smaller now, the faint storm raging outside mirroring the chaos building between you. Your breath hitched as he shifted closer, his knees bracketing your hips, the heat of his body pressing against your bare skin.

He grips your thigh, hitching your leg around his waist, and aligns himself with your entrance. The head of his cock nudging your slick folds, parting them roughly before he thrust forward in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt inside your pussy. You yelp, the sudden fullness stretching you wide, walls clenching around his length as he fills you completely. No teasing, no slow build— just raw need driving him to pound into you hard and fast.

Screams came from both of your mouths, the noise melding together in a mess of tangled breath and moans.

Bellamy's fingers dig into your asscheeks, pulling you onto him with each savage thrust, his balls slapping against your skin. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, his mouth crashing back to yours in a messy, teeth-clashing kiss, swallowing your moans as he fucks you deeper, the angle hitting that spot inside that made stars burst behind your eyelids. Sweat slicked your bodies, the shared warmth turning feverish, every slide of his cock dragging friction along your inner walls.

You claw at his back, nails raking red lines down his shoulders, urging him on as the pressure coils tight in your core. He breaks the kiss to bury his face in your neck, biting down on your collarbone while his pace turns frantic, hips snapping erratically. Your pussy flutters around him, the roughness threatening to push you over the edge.

“Shit! I’m gonna— fuck!” You cry out between rough thrusts and you feel the impending wave of pleasure crash over you with bruising force.

 Your orgasm rips through you in a shuddering wave, your cry echoing in the confined space as you come hard, juices soaking his shaft.

Bellamy follows seconds later, his cock throbbing as he drives in one last time, spilling hot cum deep inside you with a guttural roar. His body tensed, muscles locking as he emptied himself, pulse after pulse flooding your pussy until he collapsed against you, both of you spent and panting.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the aftershocks fading into heavy breaths amid the howling wind just beyond the bunkers hatch. Bewilderment settled in like the chill that threatened to seep beyond the walls—what the hell had just happened?

It’s silent between the two of you, both of your minds obviously running wild with thoughts and questions.

“We'll... figure this out in the morning,” Bellamy murmurs, voice rough with fatigue, his arm draping over your waist. You nod faintly, eyes drifting shut, and sleep claims you both there on the cold floor, the storm a distant rumble.

As your eyes refocused and you turned back to your boyfriend it was hard not to smirk. Jayce’s jaw had slackened a little. He had been expecting some sort of lighthearted back and forth about how you were fine blah-blah-blah. But now, with a faint pink creeping up from beneath his collar, he was speechless. 

“I don’t know what’s worse,” you continued, making a point of looking back out and finding the young woman that had practically thrown herself at your partner, “that she thought it was okay, or that you let her.” 

You kept your tone inquisitive, raising a brow. You knew he was only being polite. It was in his nature, but you didn’t see any harm in turning his teasing game back on him. 

He stumbled over his words quickly, eyes flicking to your slightly pursed lips, “I-I didn’t let her,” he started, fighting his sudden bashfulness for some semblance of an excuse, “I didn’t know what to do!” 

His warm hand wrapped itself around your waist cautiously, and you could feel the muscles relax when you let him pull you gently into him. “You know I only have eyes for you,” he murmured, more softly this time. “Especially when you look like this.”

He raked his eyes down over your figure and you cocked a grin, a dangerous idea forming in the back of your mind. 

“Oh yeah?” His eyes flicked back to yours immediately, “show me.” 

“Here?” The blacks of his eyes only grew as you chuckled. 

“Well, you seemed okay with her throwing herself at you,” you shrugged, starting to turn your attention back to the mysterious woman when his finger stopped you, the rough digits curling around your chin and forcing your head back to face him again. 

Within seconds his lips were crashing to yours. The world around you completely melted away as he moved tenderly against you, this light stubble scratching your chin gently as he pulled you further into him, his fingers never leaving your jaw as he tilted your head towards him. Almost forgetting where you were, you found yourself gripping at the lapels of his jacket, bunching at the fabric as you suddenly grew desperate, the heat of his kiss making your knees weak. 

He pulled away reluctantly, lips still parted as he sucked in a shuddering breath. 

“I’ll have the car pulled round.” 

You nodded breathlessly, “I’ll get the coats.” 

The impact practically knocked the air out of your lungs as he trapped you against the wall. You had barely even made it through your front door before his lips had found yours again, his tongue rolling against yours messily. His hands grasped at your waist as he turned you, fumbling to shut the door behind you both as he forced you up against the cold wall of your entryway. 

“Lemme show you I’m yours.” He was practically begging, words rushed between heated kisses, “Let me make you feel good.” 

You could barely do anything but nod, chasing after his mouth as he pulled away for your response. 

Clutching at the fabric of your dress he hiked it up clumsily, bunching it around your waist before burying his hand between your thighs. His head dropped to your throat, trailing searing hot kisses across the skin as two fingers dipped past the elastic of your panties. Your jaw fell slack, head bumping against the wall as he sucked against your pulse point, trailing his rough digits across your clit in lazy circles.  

He wasted no time in dipping his fingers down further, teasing them against your entrance as he nipped at the skin of your collarbones. 

Your breath quickened as he pressed them into you, curling perfectly against your walls and dragging deliciously slowly, letting you stretch around him. You could feel his grin against your skin.

“So wet for me every time,” it was teasing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Instead, you were too focused on the way his hand sped up slowly, your own hands grasping at his shoulders as your eyes fluttered shut, the built-up tension from the car ride home finally finding an outlet.  

It didn’t take long for his own neediness to get the better of him, his fingers moving more quickly, dragging deliciously through you as his thumb found your sensitive bud again, rubbing loose circles over it as he let you fuck his hand, hips bucking into him instinctively, your slick coating his palm. 

“Nnghh- right there, fuck Jayce–”

You were sure he could feel the way your walls fluttered around him, the sensation sending his mind spiralling and leaving his cock twitching in the tight confines of his trousers as he kissed you, swallowing your whines with his lips hungrily. 

He obeyed without hesitation, doubling down on his efforts as you clenched around him, 

“That’s it, princess, cum for me.” 

His words were enough to send you over the edge, shuddering around him as he worked you through the aftershocks, grinning dopily as you clutched at him, gasping as your muscles trembled. 

“This needs to come off,” he huffed, pulling his fingers from you despite your whine and sucking them clean, tongue lapping greedily at the digits, before fidgeting for the zipper on your dress, yanking it down with a force that you worried would rip it. 

Still barely with it, your mind mush, you helped him hastily push the dress down over your shoulders, letting the fabric pool at your feet. Your utterly ruined panties followed not long after. 

“You’re so pretty.” He was practically drooling as you pushed hurriedly at the fabric of his dress shirt as he unbuttoned it, his hands working at the belt of his trousers, hissing as he sprang free at last, his thick cock angry against the taut muscles of his stomach.

Your fingers wrapped around his wrists as he reached for your thighs, stopping his movement. His head snapped up to yours confused, chest heaving as his dick twitched against his abdomen. 

“Nah-ah, baby. I’m not playing along that easily,” you really wished that you believed your words a little more as your heart raced, every nerve in your body begging to be fucked by him. “Who do you belong to?” 

He stared at your slightly slack-jawed, eyes wet with desperation. It made your cunt clench. 

“Y-you, only you,” he stuttered, squeezing at your hips as if he was trying to contain himself. “Love you so much.” 

“Good boy.” With his admission, you finally lifted your leg a little, his hand wrapping around it almost immediately to hike you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist, his muscular arms tensed, shoulders bracing as he balanced your weight between him and the wall carefully, the tip of his throbbing member brushing your entrance teasingly. 

With a little shuffling, he eased himself into you, dropping you down a little until he was buried in you to the hilt, a groan rumbling through his chest as he stilled, his head dropping forward a little. 

“Can’t you handle it, baby?” It was cruel, you knew it was, but the effect on him was undeniable, feeling his thick cock twitch against your walls, his hips stuttering as he grew needier.

“I can– fuck, I can handle it. You’re just so tight.” he grunted, eyes squeezing shut for a second as he took a moment to steady himself, indulging in the way he stretched you.

“Show me, then.” You raised a brow teasingly with a smirk, but almost immediately regretted it when he pulled away from you, slamming back up into you and knocking the breath from your lungs, setting a near relentless pace as he rolled his hips up into you, shuddering under the strain of the pleasure and holding you up, willing his thighs to hold themselves together as he drove into you with everything he had. 

Your voice wavered as his name fell from your lips, your walls gripping him like a vice as you quivered around him, the overstimulation both painful and pleasurable all at once.  

“You’re all mine,” you muttered more to yourself than to him, voice barely above a whisper between mewls. “Say it.” 

“I-I’m all yours, princess, fuck.” Each of his words were punctuated with a broken moan as his head fell forward against your shoulder. 

“You think she could make you feel this good?” The jealousy had all but melted from your body by now – it had done as soon as he had kissed you back at the gala – but it sure was fun to make him sweat.

He shook his head pathetically, trailing hot kisses up the column of your throat, his stubble scratching the skin deliciously. “No, never.” 

A chuckle was the only response you managed, the breathy sound quickly deteriorating into a mewl as he re-angled his hips, his mouth finding yours. 

The growing pressure in your stomach made it hard to kiss back, your lips parted with staggered breaths as he fucked up into you, the head of his cock hitting that spongey spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. 

“Do that again– Shit, just like that, right there.” 

He doubled his efforts, his arms shifting slightly as he bent your legs further up, practically pinning you against the wall with your own thighs. He didn’t seem to mind that your nails were clawing at his shoulders, almost breaking the skin as your mind went completely blank. 

“Gods you’re so pretty, such a pretty girl,” he praised through ragged breaths, gritting his teeth as his pace grew sloppier, hips stuttering as his energy slowly depleted, the muscles in his stomach tensing as you practically milked him, stuttering and squeezing him to the point of distraction

“Jayce! Oh shit– gonna’” you could barely focus, red hot heat spreading through your body. 

“Me too,” his face was flushed, eyes locking with yours as his grip on you tightened, almost bruising, “cum with me, baby, that’s it–” 

You shuddered, clinging onto your boyfriend helplessly as your second climax ripped through you, barely aware of the way he bit down on your shoulder as he flooded into you, painting your walls with his cum and groaning lowly, the sound reverberating through his chest as he moaned your name like a prayer. 

He stayed buried inside of you for a moment as you carded your fingers through his hair, your muscles practically jelly as he panted against you, his breath hot against your clammy chest. 

“Still jealous?” he asked breathily, slowly pulling his softening cock from your folds, kissing up your neck lazily to distract you from the emptiness as his cum dripped from you slowly, ruining the dress between his feet. 

You huffed, feeling limp against him, “just about.”

“Just about? Well then, I clearly have more work to do.” 

His grip didn’t lessen on you as he turned on shaky legs, taking the rest of your weight and carrying you to the bedroom, dropping you down carefully against the plush sheets. “Come on princess, I know you have at least one more in you,” he grinned as he dropped to his knees, spreading your legs hungrily as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

You should find an excuse to be jealous more often....