Work Text:
The Delta Phis are easily the nerdiest fraternity in a hundred mile radius (and that includes three colleges, one of which is solely dedicated to engineering and technical subjects). Except for Gamma Phi Rho, no sorority on campus would be caught dead socializing with them. For half of their mixers, they bring in girls in from other schools, until even those girls catch on that Delta Phi boys are just not worth their time.
The only way that Delta Phi has even managed to remain relevant is the annual Powderpuff tournament. "The Pow," as it has become known in the last few years, is by far the biggest intramural sporting event on campus. Last year, it drew the participation of every sorority on campus and crowds of over 800 students at the height of the day.
Of course, it's not the sheer popularity of the sport or the excitement of athletic competition that brings teams out. The cash is the main draw. (And for some, it's the promise of some scantily clad girls running around.)
There's the game, of course. Powderpuff football. It's a bastardized version of American football that originated in what Clarke assumes was some semi-backwards but not quite all-the-way backwards suburb in the Midwest, where one night a year high school girls would pretend to be just like their boyfriends and play "football lite." By which she means, the same ball, the same rules, but no tackling. No tackling meant no pads which meant skimpy uniforms. Clarke suspects the name change to "The Pow" after some girls became disillusioned by the negative connotations of Powderpuff games they remember from high school. Clarke's high school never had Powderpuff games and the whole idea is a little stupid, but she also doesn't feel like a gendered deconstruction of it is worth her brainpower, so she plays with little reservation and with her eyes completely on the prize. The prize, of course, being $200 in cash for the winning sorority.
In the evening, at a local mega-bar just off campus, there's the flip cup tournament. The only time Lexa had ever played flip cup was at this stupid event that people insist on calling "The Pow." She won't call it that. It's a fucking two-hand touch intramural football tournament for sororities. And she only plays for the cash. Last year, the tri-Delts took the game and the flip cup tourney, nearly singly on Lexa's skill alone. Just like the football game, the sorority that emerges the winner of the flip cup tournament is $200 richer.
And finally, the reason most spectators come to spectate - there's the uniform contest. Sororities can wear whatever they want to compete in the games and the flip cup tournament. There aren't really any stipulations to the contest. There are no rules against revealing clothing or homemade uniforms or fuzzy bear suits, for that matter. Since it's the Delta Phis who serve as judges, most teams seem to imagine some contemporary "Revenge of the Nerds" situation, and sororities do their best to be as exposed as possible. (Most sororities, at least. Lexa usually puts up a pretty good fight against revealing uniforms on the tri-Delt planning committee every year.) Winning the costume contest at the end of the night wins a sorority another - you guessed it - $200.
The trifecta, though, that was something special. One grand in cash to any team that could win all three.
Their sororities have played each other every year since the start of the tournament and the rivalry goes all the way back. For a long time, the Kappas won, but over the past several years, it's been the tri-Delts. And, when Lexa quarterbacked the tri-Delt team in her first tournament last year, the football game wasn't even a contest.
Raven Reyes was so pissed off at the loss last year that she was dragged out of the post-game awards ceremony for throwing a football at Lexa as she accepted the team's prize. Clarke wanted a win, of course, all of the Kappas wanted a win, but she was certainly not on the same level as Reyes.
Lexa's her rival. More, Lexa's sorority are their rivals. Girls don't consider both sororities. When girls first start the pledge process, they're either in the tri-Delt camp or the Kappa camp, but never in both. Clarke can't consort with the tri-Delts or her sisters would have her head, particularly Raven, obviously. And anyway, they think that Lexa's team may have cheated last year and Clarke can't stand a cheater.
This year, Lexa's got on this crazy black war paint and her jersey's sleeves have been cut to reveal her toned arms and her toned torso and all other manner of toned things. There's a tattoo that dances around her arm as she throws, calling to Clarke like a snake charmer. That wasn't there last year. She would have noticed. The rest of the team has all variations of eye black and other intimidating looks, but Clarke's team goes more sorority-traditional. Each team member plays to her assets. Clarke's assets: up top. Her jersey's got a deep v-neck she worked on perfecting and hemming and sewing late into the night. It's so deep she needs double sports bras so that the show doesn't get out of hand. They really want the trifecta this year: best costumes, first in flip cup, and the football championship belt. Best costumes and first in flip cup have come pretty easily since Clarke took over on the Kappa Powderpuff Committee last year, but Lexa and her tri-Delts have lately stood in the way of the final piece of the title. This year is their year for the championship belt and the trifecta.
Their first couple games go as expected and it looks like they're gearing up for another head-to-head championship match against the tri-Delts. She tries not to think too much about it while in between games, but she can't help but glance over to the field where she sees Lexa streaking down the sideline, ball tucked into her arm and gaining ground. Luckily, Octavia's there in the next moment with a water bottle and a clipboard to go over some of the strategies they've been brainstorming for their match-up against the tri-Delts.
The first couple plays of the championship game make it appear to be an evenly matched competition. Octavia throws an interception, but then the tri-Delts can't advance to score and turn it over. Several minutes in, the tide shifts. It's like Lexa has just turned on a switch. She's faster and her throws are harder. When no one's open, she's breaking tackles and sliding between outstretched hands and into the end zone. When the Kappas huddle after the tri-Delts second straight score, Octavia nods at Clarke and sets their plan into motion.
The tackle isn't so much hard as it is surprising. One minute, Lexa's dropping back and Clarke's chasing her, the next moment, Clarke's straddling her, soft weight pressing her into the ground, eyes on her neck and her jaw and her lips and her eyes.
"That's not playing fair."
"Like you play fair."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know."
"I really don't."
Clarke pushes against the toned muscle of Lexa's upper abs to hoist herself up, towering over Lexa.
She wants to get up, but she also wants to imagine this possibility literally anywhere but a disgusting intramural college flag football field. Clarke straddling her on one of those plush arm chairs in the research library. Clarke standing over her as she wakes up in the morning. Clarke glancing at her neck and jaw and lips and eyes just before a passionate kiss.
But then she's sitting and then she's on her elbows and then she's watching Clarke strut back to her team's huddle before Anya pulls her up.
"I can't believe the ref missed that. What a bitch."
"Still a completion," Lexa says, jogging up the field.
After another tri-Delt score, the Kappas continue with their plan. Clarke knows they can't give up so easily, even if they are behind by three touchdowns. Raven's still screaming on the sidelines and Octavia's still giving her pointers every chance she gets.
The next time, Clarke's already slowly jogging back to her team when Lexa looks back up from her bloodied knee.
"Fuck Clarke, what the hell?"
She turns around and jogs back toward Lexa. Lexa can't help but let her eyes dip to the way Clarke's breasts bounce as she runs. It she weren't so focused on winning, she thinks she might take a look as Clarke sprints at her full steam. She wonders what they might look like then. She wonders how long she might remember that image.
"You're not winning this year, Lexa," Clarke spits back.
"You want to accuse us of cheating and then you tackle me in this fucking two-hand touch game every time the ref turns around."
"I'm just giving the crowd what it wants."
"Oh yeah? What's that?"
"A little girl-on-girl action."
"Aren't you a Gender Studies major? Isn't that a little anti-woman of you?"
"You want to talk feminism or you want to play football?"
There's only once when Lexa feels like she can return the jabs Clarke's been taking at her all game long. Clarke's on offense at receiver and Lexa's deep, guarding against any long throws that might be an easy touchdown for the Kappas. Clarke makes a bee line right for her. If she'd had her head more, she might have just taken a moment to watch Clarke sprint at her in all her glory. Instead, she's too immersed in the game. She tracks Clarke, jogging backwards, then turning her hips to sprint alongside her. The Kappa quarterback doesn't even look in Clarke's direction, but Lexa keeps her pace, steady with Clarke as she treks to the end zone. She hears the whistle and knows the play is dead and the ref's probably definitely not paying attention when she bumps right up against Clarke as she's slowing down. It's not hard enough to knock her over. No, she can control her body and her emotions better than that, plus, she doesn't want to hurt Clarke. But it's enough to send her staggering back a few steps, with a shocked look on her face.
"You did that on purpose." Clarke says, a hint of mischief in her eyes.
"Really? You've tackled me illegally on nearly every one of our possessions and you're telling me that you're offended by a little bump?"
"I didn't say I was offended. Maybe I liked it."
"Oh right. Giving the crowd what it wants, right?"
"It might be what I want, too."
She's not exactly sure what Clarke means, but it seems like maybe she's implying that she likes the roughhousing, or the sparring, or the flirtatious back and forth, or all three. After last year's debacle, it's kind of hard to tell what Clarke wants, but equally as hard to stay away from her.
Clarke gets one more hard tackle on her on the last play of the game. It's all but over, with the tri-Delts still up by three scores. Lexa scrambles in the backfield and releases a long bomb down the field toward Emori, who's streaking past one of the Kappas at full speed. Lexa doesn't even get a chance to see what's easily her best completion of the day because Clarke's face is hovering over and her boobs are pressed against her and she's smiling and she won't get up this time.
"Nice game, champ." Clarke says it with a smirk and the tone isn't exactly friendly. Just the same, Lexa's brain is short circuiting. Between the perfect pass and the boobs and the jarring hit, she can't think of anything clever to say.
Clarke looks at her a little longer, shifting so that her hands push into the ground on either side of Lexa's head, though Lexa still feels the full weight of Clarke's body against her and she still can't think of anything clever to say.
"Fuck you, Woods." There's another body standing over her, upside down, as Clarke finally pushes to get off of her. "Win one, lose the next two."
"Come on, Raven. It's just a game," Clarke says, pulling her uniform top down where it's ridden up from the hard tackle and pulling Raven away by her elbow.
Lexa leans back on her elbows and sees that Emori's scored to finish the game. The rest of the tri-Delts are piled on her in the end zone and Anya is sprinting toward Raven and Clarke.
"Say it again, Reyes, say it again and see what happens, Kappa trash."
Lexa plays the role of mediator this time, rushing to pull Anya back by her jersey. "Stop. We won. It's over."
It touches the right nerve because Anya's turned back toward her and away from Clarke and Raven. "Damn right we won."
The award ceremony after the game is a muted affair. The Kappas have all headed to the bar, along with most of the other sororities and Anya's still fuming as she accepts the cash and the trophy with a scowl.
The bar is huge. Any big college campus needs a big college bar. This one is the go-to for fraternity and sorority mixers and so it just makes sense that it's the place for the flip cup tournament. It's only four in the afternoon, but the bar is still dark and dank and this place has left Lexa with a bad feeling ever since last year's flip cup tournament. She doesn't want to think about it so she sets herself up in a secluded booth near the rest of the tri-Delts and heads to the bar.
At this point last year, a full 365.24 days ago, they had never even talked to each other. Sure, Clarke had heard of Lexa, but she'd been this unattainable and mysterious presence that people seemed to just kind of talk about rather than talking to. Freshman and sophomore year she was on the school's basketball team. That one was definitely true. Then she wasn't on the school's basketball team. That one was also true. She got kicked off the school's basketball team. Not confirmed, but that one seemed to be a possibility. She had an affair with the coach. Less a possibility, but still unconfirmed, and, to be honest, a pretty fun rumor to gossip about. She was caught up in an academic cheating scandal. Unconfirmed but unlikely since she often saw Lexa studying on her own in the library. Whatever it was, it was mysterious, and Lexa's whole aura didn't help to clear anything up.
Lexa's standing at the bar waiting for a pitcher of beer when she sees Clarke sidle up to her. She opts to stare straight ahead, but she can feel Clarke's eyes on her for several moments before she talks.
"Are you going to drag me into the bathroom again this year?" That moment happened just slightly less than a year ago, toward the end of the night after the flip cup tournament. Lexa had successfully avoided talking to Clarke for nearly 365.24 days because of this exact moment just one year ago.
"I'm not drinking."
"Quelle surprise, Lexa. You really know how to take the fun out of everything. If you're not drinking, why are you at the bar?"
"If you can't stand me so much, why are you hovering around me?"
"I just want to make you miserable. There's no way your team's taking the trifecta this year. Even with Echo and Emori wearing those barely-there shorts and having those convenient 'wardrobe malfunctions' during your second game."
"Only you care about that stuff, Clarke."
"I don't know, Lexa. Looks like the tri-Delts care about it this year." It doesn't help her case that Echo's got a pair of scissors and she's cutting a vee into her shirt, just like Clarke's, as they speak.
The Kappas take the first flip cup head-to-head of the tournament, with Clarke outlasting them all to lead the Kappa team to their first victory. Lexa's tucked away in her booth by the bathroom, avoiding the crowds and the excitement and even some other tri-Delts who are letting this thing get out of hand, when she hears her voice again.
"So are you going to kiss me?" Clarke's standing behind her, leaning over her shoulder to whisper in to her ear. It would be a little erotic if what she was talking about wasn't so embarrassing.
Lexa chances a glance at her and Clarke's eyes are hooded and maybe she's a little buzzed. She decides it's better to keep her eyes off of her. "You keep asking me that."
"I just want to be prepared for when I have to push you off of me."
"I'm not going to kiss you." It's the most serious, straightforward tone she can muster. She doesn't want this to be a game and Clarke keeps making it a game and it doesn't feel fun or flirtatious. Clarke doesn't say anything and when she looks back, Clarke has disappeared.
The tri-Delts knock out their first two opponents in the flip cup tournament pretty easily, but not without Anya begging Lexa to join in during the second game.
"I thought you weren't drinking." Clarke's behind her again and whispering in her ear and she reaches for the plastic cup of lukewarm beer and takes a swig.
"Kind of have to drink in order to win the flip cup competition." She doesn't look back at her this time. She doesn't want to invite any more of the conversation from before. And she really should have chosen a different place to camp herself because sitting so close to the bathrooms just serves as a stupid reminder of last year all over again.
"I'd like to quote you from earlier: 'only you care about that stuff, Clarke.'"
"What can I say, the tri-Delts like winning. If I can help them win, that's what I'm going to do."
"You can't chug a beer," Clarke challenges, as she moves to sit in the empty booth across from Lexa.
"Bet me," Lexa says. Ten minutes ago, she might have said that her strategy was to just avoid Clarke for the rest of the night, especially with how much she seemed to want to relive her embarrassment of last year. But she can't resist a competition that she knows she can win.
"Twenty bucks."
"I don't want your money."
"Too good for my money? What do you want then?"
"How about twenty questions?" Lexa says. "I get to ask you twenty questions and you have to answer them truthfully." It's actually a brilliant idea, even if it does come from a split decision. She just really wants to know why Clarke keeps bringing up the bathroom kiss from last year.
"Three questions."
She can find out what she needs to know in three. "Deal."
Clarke pours her a full cup from the pitcher on the table.
"You want me to chug a beer now?"
"Yes. Why not now?"
"I thought you meant during the flip cup tournament?"
"Now."
"It can't be filled to the top."
"Then it's not chugging a beer."
"Are you going to do one too?"
"Why would I? You made the bet."
"What happens if I lose?"
"Thinking about losing already? What happened to 'I like to win'?"
Lexa sputters at the very end, skunky, warm light beer dribbling down her chin and onto her black shirt.
"Looks like I win," Clarke gloats.
"What? How?"
Clarke presses a finger into Lexa's chest where the beer spilled and follows the wet trail down her front. Lexa holds her breath and feels herself going cross-eyed trying to watch that finger while simultaneously watching Clarke's face hover so close to her own.
"That's just the spoils of beer chugging. Everyone dribbles a little." She wipes her hand across her chest, like it will make the spill go away.
"Not true. Watch."
Clarke's full beer is gone in three seconds flat. She's never seen it go down so fast. It feels like a magic trick.
"So what happens now?" Lexa had never considered losing.
"I'm going to ask you three questions instead."
"That wasn't the bet."
That mischievous grin is back and Lexa feels like she's in trouble. "But you lost."
"So you're just making up your own rules now?"
"Is this really how much fun you are? No wonder the tri-Delts suck so much."
"Is that your first question?"
"What? No. No. You're gonna answer...wait...ok."
Lexa waits until Clarke looks over her shoulder toward the bar before she lets the smirk crack onto her face. She doesn't want to revel in her own word play, but it does feel good to fluster Clarke for once. The smirk doesn't go away before Clarke's eyes are on her again.
"Why did you join tri-Delt?"
"Because I like to be associated with all things suck-y."
"You're supposed to be truthful."
"Maybe I am being truthful."
"Lexa stop."
There's something about hearing her name come from Clarke's mouth. She wants it again. She wants to watch her mouth wrap around each letter of her name, wants to imagine her saying it again and in different places and for different reasons. She wants to know what nickname Clarke might give her, if she'd ever call her Lex.
"My mom was a tri-Delt. She wanted me to join."
"You don't seem like the sorority type."
"I'm not. I mean, now that I'm in it, I love these girls. But it was something I had to see through for her."
"Did you join tri-Delt before or after you left the basketball team?"
"Is that your next question?"
"No. Wait."
Clarke's itching to follow up, but she doesn't want to waste another question on tri-Delt idiocy.
"Are you seeing anyone?"
"Seeing anyone?"
"Dating...are you dating anyone? Hooking up?"
"Is that three questions?"
"It was a clarification on the second question."
"No."
"Yes it was. You acted like you didn't know what I meant."
"No, I'm not seeing anyone, Clarke." She says it a little hesitantly, but it feels right to wrap her mouth around each letter of Clarke's name in return. She wants to say it under different circumstances. Though this conversation is tinged with something that excites her, so perhaps the current circumstances are suitable enough.
"Oh. Sorry. I thought you were trying to trick me or something...never mind."
"Only trying to trick you a little bit."
Clarke smiles as she readies her next question. "Ok last one."
"Last one. I'll never answer a single one of your questions honestly ever again so this better be good."
"Right."
"What do you really really want to know, Clarke?"
"I want to know..."
"Clarke! Have you been over here this whole time? We're up." Raven gives Lexa the barest cursory glance before tugging Clarke away and back into the chaos at the center of the bar.
Lexa may have claimed that she doesn't take the competition seriously, but Clarke thinks her flip cup face is the quintessential game face. She doesn't smile. Her eyes stare straight ahead. At Clarke. That stupid eye-black is still lining her eyes and spread up to her eyebrows and across the bridge of her nose and edging her cheekbones and it just makes the green of her irises that much more of a siren call. They're matched up across from one another and each new round is a chance to clink cups and down an inch of beer and watch lips wrap around the rim of the cup and watch fingers gently flex and oh, who knew flip cup could be such foreplay!
"Just us," Clarke says, as Lexa's last teammate is knocked out.
There's at least fifty sets of eyes on them and raucous cheers and chants from either side. Lexa would be surprised that Anya hasn't started a fight with one of the Kappas, but she can't seem to focus on anything but across the table.
"I see a few other people in here," she replies.
"Really?" Clarke grins and looks around. Octavia and Raven are so close she can feel them breathing against her neck. That tri-Delt with the super high cheekbones - Anya, maybe? - is doing the same to Lexa. It appears to be a much more ominous look than Raven or Octavia could possibly give, but she can't linger too long on Anya before returning her gaze across the table to Lexa. "You've been looking at other people? It feels like your eyes haven't left mine since we started."
"Maybe not."
She leans forward as she refills her cup. With the vee cut in her shirt, she knows what she's doing. "You ready to go down?"
Lexa clears her throat, possibly buying a little time, possibly flustered, possibly both. "Are we still talking about flip cup?"
Clarke might not be able to look down Lexa's shirt, but she's equally as charmed and flustered. "Clever."
The Delta Phi who's been calling the competition starts the countdown and Clarke grabs her cup.
It's over so fast that Clarke doesn't know she's lost until she hears Raven and Octavia yelling about cheating behind her.
She feels her shirt pulled tighter and she's yanked back into a crowd of Kappas. The tri-Delts erupt into a chant. She can't quite tell what they're saying initially. She just sees Lexa, hoisted up like a crowd surfer, the gap in her shirt where she cut the sleeves off providing her with an even better view of Lexa's torso.
Tri-Delt Tri-Fecta! Tri-Delt Tri-Fecta!
When she can finally make out what they're saying, it all settles in. They lost the football game and they lost the flip cup tournament. The only thing standing between the tri-Delts and a legitimate trifecta celebration is a uniform contest win.
In all honesty, the Kappa Powderpuff Committee planned for this. Sort of. They knew the only way to win the football game would be through some clever behind the scenes trickery (a la Clarke's stealth tackles during the game). By halftime, when Lexa had survived tackle after tackle from a scantily clad Clarke, the Kappas knew that losing the game was a given. Their minds had already moved to the flip cup tournament. Octavia was supposed to be their flip cup stud, but a finger injury during the game relegated her to the first person knocked out in the first round of the tournament. Clarke was second in line to Octavia's prowess, but she just couldn't shake the distraction in front of her.
Losing the flip cup tournament was a surprise, sure, but it wasn't then end. They'd won the costume contest every year since Clarke's freshman year. She had no qualms about getting dressed up, or undressed, for that matter. Freshman year, it was short shorts for everyone. Sophomore year, each girl changed into her favorite pair of jean shorts and cowboy boots for the bar. Junior year, girls wore crop tops and leggings. It's always been a known fact that Kappas are hot. And she liked being hot. She liked the looks and the power she felt when it seemed like someone couldn't take their eyes off of her, particularly when it seemed like someone like Lexa couldn't take her eyes off of her. Some girls didn't love that idea, but she'd embraced it, particularly after sophomore year, when she'd declared her major. Third-wave feminism and shit.
Clarke huffs loudly behind her. She wouldn't know it was Clarke except for the prolonged eye contact Clarke made with her as she wound her way through the bar and back toward the bathrooms. There's a noisy crowd back there, including a few chanting tri-Delts and Clarke huffs loudly again.
Lexa turns to find Clarke's arm resting on the back of her booth, a beer in her hand and an annoyed look on her face. "I can ask them to stop if it's that painful."
"No. You guys have won fair and square today. Unlike last year."
"I know you guys think we cheated last year, but we didn't."
"Whatever." The line moves but Clarke's arm stays draped over the back of the booth, just out of reach of Lexa's shoulder.
"You know there's still a chance you guys come away with the uniform contest? Reyes' uniform is pretty great, and so is Octavia's."
"What about mine?" Clarke asks, moving to the head of her table so that Lexa can have another look, as though she hasn't seen enough of it throughout the course of the day.
Lexa licks her lips without thinking. Her brain is working too hard not to give Clarke a full body once-over before landing on her exposed cleavage. She just nods her head for a minute, working through anything she can possibly say to be polite and not a disgusting frat boy. "It's nice."
"Nice isn't really what we're going for," Clarke says, running her hands over the front of her jersey slowly. Lexa's eyes linger on the alterations she's made.
"It's an amazing display of craftsmanship."
"Not that either." Her hands trail over the front of the jersey again, tracing the cut of the vee that reveals more of her cleavage.
"It's hot. Ok?"
"That's what we're going for. Don't think I didn't see you look at me a few times on the field." She's got that mischievous smirk again and Lexa wants her to either go to the bathroom already or slide into her booth.
"Kinda hard not to look at you when you're tackling me behind the ref's back."
"We were just making up for that cheating last year."
"We didn't cheat."
"Whatever."
"You still have one more question, you know."
"One more question?" Clarke asks, with a quick glance to the bathroom line that she's ignored for the past several minutes. Lexa wonders if she even had to use the bathroom in the first place.
"One more question for me to answer totally honestly."
"So were you lying when you said my uniform is hot?"
"Is that your question?"
"You're trying to trick me again. No. That's not my question. I know my uniform is hot and I know I saw you looking at me today."
"Ok."
"Do you disagree?"
"Is that your question?"
"Dammit Lexa." Lexa decides that maybe she can't be in love with her sworn enemy but she can love the way that Clarke laughs and says her name at the same time. And she can especially love the way that Clarke brings her bottom lip between her teeth after she laughs.
"I can't think of what to ask you."
"Well your questions expire at midnight."
"I can work with that."
It must have been Echo's legs in those short shorts. Or Anya's toned stomach revealed by her tied up uniform top. Or maybe it was the make-up. The eye-black was Anya's idea. One part completely intimidating, the other part strangely alluring. It definitely wasn't Lexa's uniform. She knows those nerdy Delta Phis aren't into the cut-off sleeve look or the basketball shorts she's been wearing, even if they're a little on the tight side.
Somehow, some way, they pull it off.
Tri-Delt Tri-Fecta! Tri-Delt Tri-Fecta!
It seems like everyone at the bar is shouting it as Anya goes to the makeshift stage to accept the cash and the trophy. There are a few heckles and one of them is definitely Clarke's voice from somewhere in the back, but she ignores it in favor of how genuinely thrilled Anya seems. It's almost like she's never won anything in her life. She's definitely drunk and Lexa hopes that someone will take that $1,000 from her as soon as she gets off the stage, or the sorority is likely to never see it again.
Soon, she's camped back out in her favorite booth and alternating between sips of water and sips of light beer. Anya dips in occasionally to peek at the trophy that's sitting against the wall in her booth. Emori stops by once to update her on the possibility of bringing some Delta Phi nerd back to her apartment. Maybe that's where those cheating rumors came from last year, but then she also knows that Emori's not particularly strategic or conniving about her hook-ups. She just likes boys. Even if they are the nerdiest. Raven Reyes is glaring at her every time she looks up from her booth and she can't locate Clarke. Then again, she doesn't want to try too hard for fear of making eye contact with Raven.
In the moment, she hates that she posted herself back by these bathrooms. It's high traffic, it's loud, and it’s a reminder of the debacle with Clarke last year. But in the future, when she looks back the decisions of the day, the booth's location is perhaps the clincher for the best thing that happens to her all day (or even all year, or all of college, or - she could go on, but it's kind of scary to think about and she's not ready to say it just yet.)
Clarke's behind her again but she doesn't say a word. Lexa assumes the bathroom line is backed up again and that Clarke's possibly still fuming about their triad of losses. It's awfully quiet in the back corridor though, and when Lexa turns around to look, Clarke's fist is grabbing at her jersey top and pulling her behind the locked door of one of the bathrooms.
"Are you going to kiss me?" She asks, face close, breath heavy, and eyes on Lexa. There's no smile or smirk or mischief, just a question that hangs between them. Her fist relaxes from the front of Lexa's jersey, leaving several wrinkles in its place. Lexa looks down at her, eye to eye, close enough that her nose is inches from nudging Clarke's.
"Is that your last question?" She licks her lips, perhaps in preparation, perhaps out of nervous habit, and Clarke sees her throat move like she's gulping air.
"Yes." Eyes returning to meet Lexa's. "Are you going to kiss me?"
Lexa starts to shake her head, minutely at first but with more conviction eventually. Last year hasn't left her mind. Last year, Clarke seemed like she was interested all day - on the field, during the flip cup tournament, even when Lexa pulled her into the bathroom. Shoot, even when she first kissed her last year, Clarke seemed interested. And then she gently tapped against Lexa's chest and told her she wasn't ready.
"Not if you don't want me to," Lexa whispers.
Clarke's head falls against her shoulder. "Dammit Lexa."
"What?"
She pulls back and grabs Lexa's arms. "I want you to. Ok? I want you to kiss me. How do we play this question game and I'm the one who has to admit to that, and you..."
And then Lexa's kissing her. It's not like she remembers from last year. Last year, Lexa just barely pressed their lips together at first. And, even though Clarke would eventually stop the kiss, Clarke wanted more in the moment. Last year, Clarke pressed harder, Clarke cupped Lexa's face with her hands, Clarke ran her hand over Lexa's shoulders and down her back. And then she stopped everything.
Now, Lexa's hands grasp at her hips and her tongue sweeps into Clarke's mouth and Clarke fucking whimpers, like she's just given up on this whole tease thing, like she's just let Lexa win. Lexa actually picks her up, lifts her up on the sink, while she stands between Clarke's legs and Clarke knew she was strong but didn't realize she was this strong. They have to break for a moment. Clarke feels like she can't catch her breath and Lexa's lips work their way down her neck and up over the shell of her ear before she can grab Lexa's face and bring their lips back together.
Clarke runs her fingers down Lexa's arms, then into her shirt through those obscenely large cut away sleeves that have been giving Clarke glimpses of Lexa's torso all day and tempting Clarke all afternoon. Lexa massages into Clarke's ass, pushing and pulling her into a hapless rhythm and threatening to tear the feeble sink from the bathroom wall.
Hello! People need to use the bathroom here!
Lexa recognizes Anya's voice at the first syllable and pulls back abruptly. Consorting with the enemy is about to get her in a buttload of trouble. She can't even imagine if Anya knew that Clarke was in here with her. Maybe a swift punch to the face? Maybe tackling Clarke into the flip cup table? Maybe chucking a glass across the room at the Kappas? It all seems to fit Anya's temperament and there are no best case scenarios.
"Fuck." Lexa pulls back and stares at the door. Paralyzed would be a good word for her behavior. She's absolutely frozen. Clarke can't even consider asking her to help strategize a plan, she's completely braindead.
And then Clarke's cracking the door open and whispering something to Anya that Lexa only catches the tail end of "...believe me, you don't want to use this bathroom" and Lexa's simultaneously impressed and a little grossed out and completely on edge.
A moment later, Clarke signals that she's gone and Lexa's never escaped a bathroom so quickly, including after last year's bathroom escape, after Clarke's rejection.
"Clarke, what's this on your face?" She'd walked straight over to the Kappas after her daring escape and right into the permanent glare of Raven Reyes.
"What?"
"This black stuff." Raven runs a finger over her cheek and the tip of her nose before pulling it away to examine it. Before Clarke can grab her finger to get a closer look, Raven whips her head around and her eyes find Lexa, smudged eye-black and all, sitting in her booth across the bar.
"Clarke!" She whips her head a few more times, Clarke thinks just for effect but maybe Raven really is still trying to piece things together.
"What?" She asks with a raise of her eyebrow. She wants to keep it innocent and light. Raven has a tendency to take things over the edge way too quickly.
"I can't believe you."
"What?"
"You're just going to act like this isn't Lexa's stupid make-up on you?"
"Can you just..." Clarke pulls her even further away from the raucous center of the bar and further away from Lexa. "What do you want me to say?"
"A tri-Delt? A cheating tri-Delt? And not just any tri-Delt, but Lexa?"
"Don't tell me she's not hot, Raven."
"She's not hot, Clarke."
"Look at her before you say that. Just look at her."
Raven eyes her again from across the bar. Anya's in the booth beside her now, pouring a beer into the cup of the trophy and talking to girls she can't see. Anya laughs and Lexa catches Clarke's eyes and holds her stare for a moment too long.
"Did you fuck her?"
"No."
"Good," Raven spits.
"Not yet."
"Really, Clarke?"
"Why are you policing my sexual proclivities, Raven?"
"Ok, Ms. Gender Studies Major. But, really?"
"She's hot," Clarke says, chancing another glance and catching Lexa's eyes again. "Maybe we talked for a bit. Maybe I might like her."
"Are you going to date her?"
That breaks the eye contact. Clarke's never been the type. "I haven't said all that," she says with laugh and Raven looks momentarily relieved.
"But you might."
"I haven't said any of that."
"You're about to start an international sorority crisis, Clarke. You can't date a tri-Delt and you can't date Lexa."
"Bye Raven."
She's more covert this time, knowing that Raven's eyes are probably on her or Lexa.
She slips into the other side of the booth and slumps a little so that from Raven's vantage point she's completely hidden.
"What was that about?" Lexa whispers, laughing at Clarke's posture in the booth.
She leans across, careful not to sit too high up, and cups Lexa's jaw and moves her head to study her eye-black or war paint or whatever the fuck Lexa calls it. "That stupid make-up stuff, Lexa. Raven found some on me."
"Oh." She laughs a little, but Clarke's hand is still touching her face and she feels her cheeks heat up.
"And now she thinks we're dating and about to start an international sorority crisis." Clarke grabs her beer and takes a swig.
Another chuckle. "What? Why?"
"That's what I said. We haven't even had sex yet."
It sounds like Clarke doesn't even realize she said it. She takes another quick swig of Lexa's beer and peeks over the back of the booth.
"What? Yet?"
"Clarke!" It's Octavia this time, steaming over to her without even a glance at Lexa. She's yanked so hard that her head jerks back as she's pulled to follow Octavia to the other side of the bar.
"Raven said you hooked up with Lexa in the bathroom?" It's incredulous and disgusted and she's just the littlest bit thrilled at all the drama that this has caused.
"Define 'hooked up.'"
"Jesus Clarke."
"I like her, ok? She's so hot and she's so smart and crazy talented and look at those arms and her lips and her butt in those shorts. Come on Octavia. I know you've had a taste of the so-called 'fairer flesh.' You have to agree with me at least a little bit."
Octavia joins in on Clarke's ogling from across the bar. Lexa knows she should feel embarrassed or look away or even pretend like she doesn't notice, but she's a little too buzzed - on alcohol or arousal or both - to do anything but stare right back at Clarke.
"Look. I get it."
"See? I mean come on. Those long fingers and you can see that shirt doesn't leave much to the imagination..."
"I get it, Clarke. I don't need the full run down."
"Sorry. Raven was just..."
"Pissed. Raven is livid. That's why we're talking right now. She made me grab you away from her."
"She takes this rivalry a little too seriously, if you ask me."
"And she's drunk, so that doesn't help."
"True."
"Look, I'd suggest that if you're going to keep cavorting around with the enemy you take it somewhere a bit more private."
"No bathroom hook-ups?"
"No more bathroom hook-ups."
"Depends on how we're defining 'hook-up.'"
"I'm going to define it as whatever left these black smudges along your nose and cheek." Octavia reaches out and swipes a mark from her nose. "Get a room somewhere."
Clarke looks back across the room. "Thanks Octavia."
Octavia shakes her head but can't help the smile that spreads on her face. Clarke had never mentioned Lexa's name, but Octavia had figured it out. Clarke had agonized to her over some botched hook-up for months before she just went silent. Now, Octavia can't help but feel a little second-hand excitement for Clarke.
She's grateful that they'd had the sleeping arrangements discussion before the tournament at the start of the day. Raven's getting picked up by her boyfriend at the end of the night, when he gets off work. Clarke thinks he might be pulled from work sooner if Raven doesn't calm down or sober up or both. Octavia's going to Lincoln's because she always goes to Lincoln's. Clarke can't even remember the last time Octavia spent the night in her own bed. Which means she has the place to herself. Or, more accurately at the moment, she and Lexa have the place to themselves.
"I've been wanting to see what's under this shirt all day and night." It's deafeningly quiet in her bedroom compared to the bar and she wishes she would have cleaned up a little bit before she left in the morning. There's strips of fabric from her jersey alterations and glue and glitter and clothes scattered everywhere.
"Believe me when I say that the feeling is quite mutual." Lexa can't help but look down at Clarke's jersey and her cleavage. It feels like it's the only time all night when she's actually allowed to look, even if she's stolen glances throughout the day.
"Is my uniform doing it for you?"
"I already told you it is." Lexa's eyes dart back up to meet hers before looking down again.
"Should I keep it on?"
Clarke feels Lexa's strong hands pull at the sides of the jersey, pulling her into her body. "I wish that you could keep it on and that I could take it off."
"We can try it both ways and see which way we like more."
Lexa's nose pushes into her hair and she whispers against her ear, "You can't say things like that."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Are you going to kiss me?"
She pulls back and looks at Clarke again. They've already kissed once but she knows that doesn't give her license to assume anything about the rest of the night.
"Not if you don't want me to."
"Do you think you'd be in my bedroom and my boobs would be pressed up against you if I didn't want you to?"
"Stranger things have happened." Lexa's smile is a little sad and Clarke's memory is jogged back to last year.
It makes her feel bad. She knows that sometimes she gets her signals crossed and sometimes she doesn't exactly know what she wants before she gets herself into situations she has to back down from and usually she doesn't feel too bad about. But then usually, the person on the other end of her signals doesn't look as sad and dejected as Lexa did last year.
"I did like you, you know. Last year I did and I still do. I just..."
"You don't have to explain yourself." Lexa takes a step back, but Clarke follows just as quickly, pressing back into her body.
"I want to. I just didn't feel like I was ready. I liked it at first but then the more I thought about it the more I didn't want to have some heated hook up in a bathroom without knowing anything about you and then probably never see you again for another year."
"I can appreciate that."
"So I'm not going to apologize for..."
"I don't want that. You are always allowed to say 'no' and you are always allowed to have your own reasons for doing that. You don't need to explain it to me if you don't want to."
Clarke wants to hear her say it again. It's the perfect response and not the way she was expecting this night to go at all and she suddenly wants to do a lot more talking and just a little less kissing, but then Lexa's body is so warm against hers and her breath is tickling her skin and Lexa's fingers are burning into her sides.
She errs on the side of kissing. That plump lower lip is between her lips and then beneath her tongue and then between her teeth and she hears Lexa let out one of those pathetic whimpers that she was guilty of earlier. She pushes her back onto the bed and hopes there isn't an errant pair of scissors of a bag of glitter still on her bed from earlier.
Lexa sits up and pulls Clarke into her lap. Her hips start a slow, subconscious grind that she feels echoed as Lexa rocks herself against Clarke from below. It's seconds or minutes or hours before she pulls back and Lexa's lips are kiss swollen and that eye-black is even more smudged and it gives her just a moment's pause that her first time having sex with Lexa will be while she's wearing this eye make-up, but it is totally alluring in way that makes her decide not to ask Lexa to wash it off.
"What?" Lexa whispers. She must have been looking for too long, thinking for too long.
"Nothing."
"Tell me." Lexa grabs her hand and squeezes it and she feels it all the way into her chest. It wasn't really supposed to go like this - serious talks and kind words and holding hands.
She wonders if she should lie. She doesn't want to make Lexa feel self-conscious, but then she also doesn't want to have a lie hanging over her for the rest of the night, even if it is just a teensy tiny lie.
"Your make-up."
"It's eye-black," Lexa replies, like it's an insult to call it make-up.
"I was just thinking about it."
"While we were making out? I keep forgetting I have it on."
"I was thinking about how it's strangely...hot?"
"Yeah? That's what Anya said. I didn't really buy it, but, really?" Her hand drops Clarke's, like you can't hold hands and be sexy and Clarke feels it reappear just under her shirt, against her belly.
"Yeah."
"So I should keep it on, then? Maybe smudge it in some obscene places?"
"Mmmm, I might be amenable to that. I want to see this first," she says, as she reaches to pull up the hem of Lexa's shirt, before Lexa's hands join in to help.
"Lie back."
Lexa just stares at her for a moment. Flat stomach and neon sports bra and tattoos and eye-black and all. It's disarming. Clarke thinks maybe Lexa's not used to being in this position - either literally or figuratively. Not literally used to being the one on her back, not figuratively used to being told what to do. But then she's on her back and Clarke's wriggling her hips up Lexa's body and running her hands over smooth, soft skin until she notices Lexa nearly shaking.
"You ok?"
"Feels good. I need..."
"What?"
"Take something off. Anything."
Clarke wants to be coy and take off the hairband she's got tied around her wrist, but she's beginning to get too impatient for even her own teasing and she reaches for the hem of her shirt.
"No..." Lexa starts, and Clarke's eyes widen. She doesn't want it to stop but it feels devastatingly like a role reversal from their failed bathroom escapade last year.
"No," Lexa says again, softer this time, like she's read Clarke's mind, "leave that on. Remember?"
Right, once with it on and once with it off.
Clarke lifts her hips and begins the shimmy to slide off her shorts. It's not easy and soon she's sweating from exertion and rolling off of Lexa and Lexa's chuckling.
"If you're going to laugh at me, at least you can take your shorts off, too."
Lexa kneels on the bed and shucks hers off with ease as Clarke continues her shimmy, now sitting on the edge of the bed. She feels the bed rock and then Lexa's on her knees behind her, pulling her hair from her shoulder and tonguing a trail over her ear and neck.
"Fuck, Lexa," she moans, grabbing the back of Lexa's head and pulling her into a kiss.
She knows there's a wet spot on the front of her panties. It's probably been there since the second tackle, all the way back on the field earlier in the day. It's been at times uncomfortable and at times the slightest bit embarrassing and at times even a little bit arousing, but now she's just hoping that it will help Lexa spur things on a bit quicker.
"Sit back," she commands again.
Lexa obeys a bit quicker this time around, hurriedly crawling back to lean against the headboard. It makes Clarke a little mad but mostly just insanely turned on that Lexa's abs look like that even when she's sitting up. It's like gravity doesn't exist. Or there's no part of her abs that's forced to interact with gravity. She throws her leg back over Lexa's hips, testing the feel of thin fabric against thin fabric. Lexa's got on a pair of black underwear and she doesn't want to pull back and look like she's examining them, but Clarke swears she can feel the fabric moist against her thigh. Lexa pulls her back down into a sloppy kiss as she feels Lexa begin to cant up against her thigh and she continues to grind down. It's a bit of selfish pleasure seeking, but she can tell by the way Lexa punctuates each thrust of her hips with a heavy exhale of her breath that the feeling is very much a mutual one.
It's too much and not enough after a while. Her lips are kiss swollen and her underwear is getting uncomfortable and she wants something else. Lexa must feel the same because she sits up and reaches for the elastic of her underwear.
"Can I?" Lexa's voice is raspy.
"I might die if you don't."
Lexa exhales a quick laugh. "That's excessive, Clarke."
"Please," she begs as her eyes plead with Lexa.
She releases a disappointed moan when Lexa's fingers trace the elastic at the top of her underwear, then down to the elastic edging her inner thigh, then to the growing damp spot in the center. Lexa's finger slips her panties to one side and she can't help but close her eyes when she feels Lexa's finger slide into her. When she opens her eyes, Lexa's looking at her like she can feel everything Clarke feels, her lips are parted and she's breathing heavy and her eyes have glazed over.
"Two," Clarke whispers, wrapping her arms around Lexa's neck and pulling closer.
There's no back and forth playfulness or flirtation this time. Lexa obeys and Clarke begins a steady grind on her lap as Lexa's fingers attempt to angle up inside of her.
"Good?" Lexa asks, resting her forehead against Clarke's. Clarke can feel her eyelashes tangling with Lexa's.
"So good."
"What else?"
"Let me just..." Clarke starts, before closing her eyes again and speeding up the rhythm of her hips just the slightest bit more. Lexa does something, she's not sure exactly what, maybe move her hips, but there's a little more force and her body responds in kind. Soon, the springs in her old bed are creaking quietly and she can hear herself breathing heavier and Lexa's lips are on hers but she can't quite kiss her back so she just lets Lexa's mouth do the work. There's a little hitch in her breath on every third beat and she feels some force in her body start to move her hips and her waist and her lower abdomen.
"I'm gonna...can you..."
"What?" Lexa leans back a little to let herself focus on more of Clarke - her eyes, the heaving of her chest, the way her hips desperately rock against her. Lexa's eyes are open wide and questioning, like she'd do anything to make Clarke feel good.
"Curl...oh..."
Lexa seems to get the gist from just one word. Clarke's hips speed again and Lexa's shifting to move her wrist and curl her fingers against Clarke's front wall. She feels them wriggle and her body starts to quake and she knows that Lexa has clearly done this before but there's something so new about this, about the way she's looking back at Clarke. It's not the way that Lexa moves her body against Clarke, or the way her fingers curl inside of her, it's the way she looks back at her that pushes her over the edge, that's got her hips jerking one, two, three final times against Lexa's fingers and in her lap, that's got a moan tearing out of her from deep inside.
It takes a few moments to get her breathing back to normal, to muster up the strength to pick her head up from Lexa's shoulder, where it had fallen immediately after she'd come undone. When she finally does, a chuckle devolves into a giggle devolves into a full-bellied laugh. Lexa's eye-black is smudged across her cheeks all the way over both ears and down toward her mouth and she has absolutely no idea.
"Well I was not expecting for you to laugh at me after giving you a mind-blowing orgasm."
"Two things. One: I just did a lot of work in achieving my own mind-blowing orgasm, thank you very much. And two: you have so much of that make-up smudged all over your face."
"You laugh, but how do you think it got smudged?"
"What?"
"You should look in a mirror."
Clarke reaches over to the nightstand and slips her phone's camera to selfie mode. "Oh my God. How could you look at me like that, like you just did, when I look like this?" There's eye-black smudged across her nose and her cheek and there's some on her neck and under her chin.
"Look at you like what?"
"Like how you looked at me when we were having sex. It was so...intimate. But I look like a buffoon with all this black make-up on me."
"It's eye-black, Clarke. And that was the hottest thing I've ever seen, eye-black smudges or not."
"You liked?"
"So much I want to do it again," Lexa says, as she runs her nose over the sensitive skin of Clarke's neck. There's how that make-up got on her neck.
"Not so fast, tiger. My turn."
"I don't play in turns, Clarke."
"If you want me to take my shirt off, then you're going to play in turns."
"Fair," Lexa replies. She doesn't make any move and Clarke decides that the stripteases can wait for another round as she pulls her jersey and both of her sports bras off as quickly as possible, right there in Lexa's lap.
It takes longer than she wants and is probably not as sexy as it could be, but when she's done, Lexa's eyes go even wider than she's seen all night.
"Touch," she whispers, reaching for Lexa's hand.
She looks up from Clarke's chest for a moment to confirm. When Clarke nods at her with a small smile, her eyes refocus back down again. Lexa's hands are shaking a little and Clarke feels her breath speed up the closer they get. When Lexa's fingers finally gently graze across her nipples, she feels like she can't breathe. It's all too much and only a part of that is Lexa's fingers on her chest. It's the way she's looking at her and the way Lexa's breathing and she can't figure out exactly what she wants but she needs a break.
She puts her hands over Lexa's and holds them, eyes drawing Lexa's back up until she's looking at her like she's the first woman she's ever seen. "You ok?"
Clarke nods, then has to close her eyes to regain her senses.
"Now you?" She asks after a moment to give her brain and body a break.
"Ok." Lexa nods and reaches down to pull the neon sports bra off. Just like everything else, she's perfect.
Lexa mimics her and reaches down to guide Clarke's hands to her chest. Clarke's fingers are so terribly gentle, gliding across the tanned skin of her chest and barely grazing her nipples before they peak into full arousal.
"I want...can you..." She hasn't heard Lexa in this state yet and it's thrilling.
"What do you want, beautiful?"
"Can you...lie down on me? Put your body on me? I just...want to feel your skin."
It's a moment that gives Clarke relief - evidence that Lexa's just as frazzled and tempted and anxious as she is.
Her skin tingles as she slowly presses herself against Lexa and her arms feel like they're going to give way beneath her. It's not a position she's really comfortable with or considered much before, but she can see why Lexa likes it. She's immersed. Lexa's everywhere. The heat spreads from their toes that tangle together to their thighs, still a little sticky from moments ago, to the press of their stomachs against one another. Sometimes she breathes in and Lexa breathes in at the same time and their bodies get even closer. It's a sensory overload and it's so different that she starts to slide down Lexa's body, dotting kisses and trailing her tongue over the flesh that she's been craving since she saw Lexa's uniform modification at the beginning of tournament, hours and hours ago.
If this were someone new, someone she'd just met at a bar, she wouldn't do this. She wouldn't slide her body down someone else's until her face is cradled between their thighs. She wouldn't look up into their eyes, seeking permission she'd save for something she'd do several dates down the line. But Lexa isn't new. Even at this time last year she wasn't new. And a year later, she's had time to think about this, to want this, to imagine this. Still, she looks up. Lexa's been so kind and gentle and ensured her consent every step of the way and she wants the same.
"Can I?" she whispers, when Lexa just continues to stare. She seems pretty content to just look at Clarke looking back at her from between her thighs, but Clarke's impatient. She needs to see Lexa fall apart.
"Yes." Her voice is more just air pushing out from her lungs in the gentlest of whispers. Lexa grabs a hand that rests on her hipbone and Clarke feels the squeeze pulse down to her.
Lexa gasps at the first swipe of her tongue, broad and tentative. She eases into it at a relaxed pace, looking and listening for Lexa's cues - the way her hips start gently rolling. The way her breath starts a staccato march. The way she squeezes Clarke's hand and runs her free hand over her chest and into Clarke's hair and back.
Clarke doesn't even know she's doing it until Lexa says something.
"Are you..." she rocks her hips away from Clarke's tongue, "are you touching yourself?"
Clarke's eyes widen with panic and she pulls her hand out from between her legs. Lexa's looking back at her and she can't read her expression. Everything stops. Her brain, her breathing, her heart.
"Were you?"
She's not sure how to answer. It feels like it should be embarrassing, that she can't control her libido, but, with the positions reversed, if Lexa was doing the same, it would be so fucking hot.
Lexa's hand pulls at her arm, pleading her to climb back up her body.
"I've never done that before," Clarke whispers when her face nears Lexa's. She's a little too nervous to sustain eye contact, so she only briefly glances at Lexa's eyes before looking away.
"Touched yourself?" Her voice is soft and gentle and Clarke knows that no one would think that Lexa could talk to someone like this.
She leans into Lexa's neck so that she doesn't have to look at her. "No no. I've never done it while I've gone down on someone."
Lexa cups Clarke's cheek and pulls her head back so that she can look at her. "When I say that it is the sexiest thing I've ever seen, I completely mean it."
"Well asking me about it didn't exactly make me feel sexy." She wills the tears away and for the most part they obey. It's possibly a symptom of still having a little alcohol in her system, and it's definitely a symptom of the way Lexa's looking at her. The tears don't slide down her cheeks, but they cloud her vision and she knows Lexa can see.
"Shit. I'm sorry, Clarke. I'm pretty sure I could interpret anything you do as sexy. I didn't mean to make you feel that way."
"It's ok." She blinks several times, just to make sure they go away. Crying her first time. It's like a bad high school movie about losing her virginity. "I'm just in my head a little bit, I think."
"That's ok."
"Yeah?" She whispers into Lexa's neck. It's so quiet and small that she's not sure Lexa hears her.
"Of course. I don't know about you, but for me, first times are usually pretty nerve-racking and sometimes downright uncomfortable."
She could tell stories. For that matter, Lexa probably could, too. She'd rather not hear them. "Yeah."
"Do you want to stop?"
"Definitely not. Unless you want to. Then we can..."
"Think we can...you know...finish this up?"
Clarke laughs. "Yeah. Sorry. Yeah, of course."
"You don't have to go down on me, if you don't want to, obviously."
"No. Please. I like it. A lot. You like it?"
"God, yes. I was so close and when I asked you, I don't know, I just wanted confirmation or something. I think seeing you like that had me just seconds away from...you know."
"Well, let me see if I can get you to 'you know.'" Clarke says, shaking the last of her doubt away, and Lexa eases back again, watching Clarke kiss down her abdomen and her thighs before settling right between them. It doesn't take long to work her up again and this time, when Clarke slips a hand between her own legs, she doesn't say a word. Her eyes roam from the movement of Clarke's head between her thighs to the way one of Clarke's hands dances across her hip bone and reaches to tangle in Lexa's fingers to the grind of Clarke's pelvis against her hand and the bed. Seeing Clarke's hips jerk against her own hand, combined with the sloppy rhythm of her tongue has her releasing a hoarse moan and thrusting her hips in the air and nearly clamping Clarke's head between her thighs.
The come-down is slow. Clarke rests with her head on Lexa's thigh for several minutes, while Lexa keeps her eyes closed and a free hand running gently through Clarke's hair.
"We might not have won today, but that was a pretty great consolation prize," Clarke says with a gravelly voice.
Lexa hums in response, her eyes are still closed and she feels like she could sleep, but she also wants to see how long she can stay up, how many more times she can take Clarke apart.
"I don't know, Clarke, to the victor go the spoils. I think I was the real winner today."
Clarke laughs and Lexa has to open her eyes so that she can see it. If she does go to sleep, it's the last thing she wants to see. "Let's just say we both won. Ok?"
"When a smart, beautiful, naked girl in your bed tells you to agree with something, you agree with it. Especially if you've been pining after that girl for a full year."
She feels Clarke crawl up her body until her face rests on Lexa's chest, tucked just below her chin.
"We may have just avoided an international sorority crisis."
"Or started one."