
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10755060.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      The_100_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Bellamy_Blake/Clarke_Griffin
  Character:
      Bellamy_Blake, Clarke_Griffin
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, Canonical_Age_Difference, Smut, Kink
      Meme
  Series:
      Part 2 of Kink_Meme
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-28 Words: 1939
****** Berceuse ******
by Catja
Summary
     Clarke can't sleep; Bellamy helps her out.
Notes
     Unbetaed, unedited, feel free to let me know if there are any typos.
     Prompt: Clarke is his little sisters best friend. Bellamy gives her
     her first orgasm, now she's addicted.
Clarke couldn't sleep. Octavia was in bed next to her, snoring softly away, but
even after a decade of sleepovers, since Clarke met Octavia on the first day of
first grade, she wasn't used to her best friend's mattress (too firm), or the
temperature of the room (too warm), or the faint sounds of Bellamy playing
video games down the hall in the living room.
She checked the time on her phone, charging next to her on the windowsill: just
after one, which means she's been lying here for an hour and a half. And if
Clarke doesn't do any thing about it, she'll probably be lying here awake for
the next ninety minutes.
Unless someone else does something to help her fall asleep.
Clarke carefully gets out of bed. Octavia could sleep through the apocalypse,
but Clarke doesn't want to risk her waking up. She doesn't even bother to put
anything on, just slips out the door in her dad's old t-shirt and her panties.
Aurora's working third shift again tonight so there's no reason to cover up.
Eight feet down the hall, Bellamy's sitting in an easy chair, headphones on,
playing some kind of violent war game. He looks up when Clarke comes in,
though, and pushes his headset around his neck.
"I can't sleep," Clarke admits, soft, still hovering in the doorway. "Would you
help me, please, Bellamy?"
Bellamy just stares at her for a long moment, then hits a button on his
headset."I thought we agreed this wouldn't happen again."
Clarke just looks at him, letting her eyes go wide and pleading. She doesn't
quite pout, but it's close.
Bellamy caves, of course, visibly deflating a little. He's tried so hard to be
good, but Clarke never lets him. "Fine. Five minutes." He jerks his head toward
the couch and adds, "Go ahead and sit."
Clarke curls up in the corner of the couch closest to Bellamy, hugging a pillow
to her chest. It's one of those gloriously squishy couches, the kind her mother
would only allow in the basement. Clarke would probably have an easier time
falling asleep here than in Octavia's bed.
She almost drifts off, watching Bellamy, but anticipation keep her just alert
enough. She so rarely gets a chance to see him like this: relaxed, enjoying his
one indulgence. His dark curls are mess, from his fingers running through them
all day, and his glasses slip low on his face, eyes intent on his screen, gray
tank exposing his broad shoulders and muscular arms for her appreciation. When
Clarke sees him during the day, she has to try to pretend she's not looking.
It's nice now, being able to stare openly.
It's probably closer to fifteen minutes when Bellamy finally bids Miller
goodnight and turns off the tv.
"Did you at least try, this time?" He stays in his chair, turning to look at
her.
"I did, I swear," Clarke says. "The movie ended, like, two hours ago, and we
got right in bed."
Bellamy glances at the clock. "Octavia voluntarily went to bed before
midnight?"
Clarke shrugs. "There's some thing she wants to go to tomorrow, she didn't say
what."
"Typical." Bellamy stands up, but doesn't come any closer, just looks down at
her. "Clarke-"
"Bellamy."
"We said this wasn't gonna happen again."
"No, you said this wasn't gonna happen again." Clarke adjusts the pillow so
it's sitting right below her breasts, pushing them up and making it very
obvious that she is both turned on and not wearing a bra. Bellamy can't help
but glance down. "Please, Bell, I can't sleep, and you know the easiest way to
fall asleep is if I come, and I've tried, I can't do it myself."
"Yeah, I know." He flops on the other end of the couch, legs up next to her.
"Come here, Princess, and let me help you."
===============================================================================
The first time, it happened like this:
Sometime after midnight, Clarke went to the Blake's kitchen for a glass of
water and hops up to sit on the counter to drink it, like she and Octavia have
done for years.
Bellamy comes home, late, after his shift at the bar, and stops short at the
sight of his sister's best friend in nothing but an oversized t-shirt that
barely reaches to her thighs, fucking around on her phone and sipping at a
glass of water.
"Can't sleep, Princess?" Bellamy asks, leaning up against the counter opposite
her. When Clarke just shakes her head, he goes on. "Have you tried orgasms?" he
asks, smirking at her. "Works every time."
Clarke blushes. "No, I-"
"You don't want to when you're here?"
"No, I've never been able to-"
Bellamy's eyes go wide. "Never? That sucks. You should try again sometime. It's
pretty relaxing, at least after."
Normally, Clarke would laugh at Bellamy's constant advice-giving, his
inescapable big-brother instincts. But now, all she can do is blurt out, "Would
you show me how?"
And it takes him a minute, but he comes over next to Clarke, slips one hand up
her thigh and pets at her, just through her panties at first. He nudges her
legs apart, once she starts getting a little wet, and slips one finger inside
her, just enough to give her something to clench around, not enough to tear.
Then he's rubbing tight circles on her clit, slow and soft at first, but soon
hard and almost rough, until she's coming apart, her whimpers muffled against
his neck.
He only gives her a minute to recover, then kisses her forehead. "Gonna be able
to sleep now?"
Clarke nods, already feeling her eyes droop. Her whole body is relaxed and
loose.
He helps her off the counter and sends her back to bed. Then he goes back to
his own bedroom and jerks himself off, hard and fast, thinking of Clarke's
pretty pink nipples barely showing through her shirt, the way she whined and
begged, not even knowing what to say, when she got close. He's got his fingers
in his mouth as he explodes, sucking at the wetness Clarke left on him.
Bellamy falls asleep quickly himself. He assumes that that's the end of it,
that now that Clarke's had one orgasm, she'll be able to do it for herself, and
tonight was his only chance to taste her, which is fine.
But that's not the end.
It doesn't happen every sleepover, but more often than not, Clarke comes to
him, shy but bossy, begging for help sleeping. He knows he shouldn't, of course
he shouldn't: she's five years younger than him, his sister's best friend,
still in high school, is probably lying about not being able to sleep. But
she's also the sexiest, sweetest-tasting girl he's ever seen, and if she's
lying it's because she wants him to get her off, and there's something so
satisfying about being the only one who can make Clarke Griffin come.
So Bellamy sets some rules and actually manages to get Clarke to go along with
them, and every time, right before he sends her to bed, he tells her it's not
going to happen again.
It's not his fault she keeps coming back.
===============================================================================
"Come here, Princess, and let me help you."
Clarke crawls across the couch to settle in his lap, back against his chest,
legs parted for him. He tugs her shirt up to cup her breast, thumbing at her
nipple, while his other hand finds her pussy.
"Fuck, you're so wet already, baby." Bellamy strokes lightly at her labia,
spreading her wetness around, just teasing her.
"You made me wait so long, Bellamy," Clarke says. "I was thinking about this,
how good your hands feel." She can feel his dick hard against her ass, and she
presses back against him.
Bellamy groans, rewarding her with his thumb against her clit, just for a
moment. "You should have started without me, got your pretty cunt ready for my
fingers."
"Next time," Clarke says, and to her relief Bellamy doesn't argue, just lets
his hand go rougher on her breast, scratching lightly at the sensitive skin and
tugging at her nipple.
"You want it fast or slow tonight, baby?" He's still just teasing her, just
barely sliding a finger tip inside her, brushing against the side of her clit.
Her panties are soaked, but they stay on anyway.
Clarke turns her face up toward his. "Fast, please, I need it so badly,
Bellamy."
He doesn't kiss her; he never has. Clarke longs for it, is desperate to know
how his mouth would feel on hers, even more than she wants him to fuck her, but
Bellamy's drawn the lines quite clearly, and it's pushing the boundaries enough
to even have this.
"I know you do, Princess, I'm gonna take care of you."
Finally he starts paying attention to her throbbing clit, pinching it lightly
then petting it better, alternating soft strokes with tight circles, not giving
her what she needs, fast and consistent to push her over the edge. Clarke's
panting, one hand joining his on her breast, the other back around his neck,
fingers tangled in his hair.
"Please, Bellamy," she begs, "please let me come."
He gives her just what she needs, familiar with her after so many times, and
she shatters in his arms, muffling her gasps against his shoulder, her whole
body trembling.
But this time, Clarke doesn't get all relaxed and sleepy after.
"Bellamy, it wasn't enough," Clarke says, her eyes tearing up in frustration.
"I need more, please, it wasn't-"
"Shh, I know, I've got you, Princess," he says, and while she's still
recovering, he slips out from under her and settles himself on the floor. "You
trust me?"
"Uh-huh."
Bellamy carefully pulls her panties off, leaving them hooked around one ankle.
Through the thick haze of arousal and frustration, Clarke realizes that he's
never done this before, never taken anything off.
"Fuck, Clarke, you're so pretty," he says, fingers exploring her, now that he
can see. "What a pretty pussy you have."
"Please, Bellamy."
He spreads her open with his thumbs, fingers gripping her hips, and says,
"You're going to taste delicious."
Clarke jerks at the first touch of his tongue to her clit, barely held in place
by his hands. He flicks at her a few times, then goes lower, kissing and
licking and sucking, and Clarke's lost to a flood of sensation. Five minutes
ago, Clarke would have said that nothing could be better than Bellamy's
fingers, but his mouth... well. Clarke's going to make sure this happens again.
Bellamy pulls back just enough to tell Clarke to "Play with your tits for me,"
and then he's giving her just what she needs, sucking on her clit.
When she comes, Clarke has to cover her face with a pillow to silence her
screams. Bellamy eases her down, kissing her cunt, licking softly at her clit,
pulling away much too soon. Clarke whines at the loss of contact, but she's
finally reached the quiet sleepy place she needs.
Bellamy helps her up, bending down to pull her underwear back up, then leading
her back down the hall to Octavia's door.
"Goodnight, Princess," he says, voice low.
Clarke leans up to press a kiss against his lips. It would be chaste, if she
didn't come back licking her taste from her lips. "Thanks, Bell," she says,
then slips into the bedroom, almost collapsing into bed.
She falls asleep to the sound of Bellamy's soft grunts through the shared wall.
Maybe next time, she thinks as she drifts off, he'll let her make him feel good
too.
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