Clexa smut fanfics

On the night before i sent this

A/N: I'm sorry for not updating in so long but here you go x3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a silly concern. Clarke hadn't said it out loud, so that's something, but she feels kind of stupid for even thinking it.

She'd been worried (ridiculously) that Lexa's fingers were too calloused. She holds swords and knives and fights with those hands. Not that Clarke feels anything but envy at Lexa's skills, at her long, weathered hands.

She'd just wondered, is all.

And as the pad of Lexa's thumb gently circles Clarke's clit, she realizes there's nothing to worry about. Skilled work makes for talented fingers.

She has the weirdest thoughts. Really.

Lexa lifts her head from the crook of Clarke's neck. Stills her hand. "Do you ever stop thinking?"

It's another Lexa thing. One of her plainly spoken not-compliments that is either made out of frustration or admiration. Or maybe just observation. Clarke's not entirely sure. Lexa doesn't like to embellish or romanticize.

And Clarke's over both of those things, so this arrangement is working pretty well for them.

"I'm sorry," Clarke says. "I just, um-"

"Never thought you'd be with a girl?" Lexa asks. There! Amusement.

Clarke rolls onto her side. Kisses Lexa with a gentleness she hasn't felt in ages. "Not that at all," Clarke says. "I just didn't think that this time would be- That I could-"

"You don't have to punish yourself," Lexa says. She gently nuzzles her nose against Clarke's. Follows it with a soft peck. "The war is not your fault."

Clarke sighs against Lexa. Tries not to frown. "Isn't it?"

Lexa's hand moves to Clarke's thigh. Squeezes. Clarke's almost positive that's supposed to be reassuring. "It isn't."

"Kiss me again," Clarke says.

She doesn't like knowing look Lexa gives her. The sadness and the understanding is too much.

"Please," Clarke says.

Lexa slowly nods. Leans in. Clarke closes her eyes as Lexa rolls her onto her back again. Presses herself against Clarke. Gives her a kiss so heavy it sucks the air from Clarke's lungs and leaves her pressing upward. Circling her arms around Lexa's neck. Whimpering, but not a lot.

"Are you afraid?" Lexa asks her, quietly.

Clarke keeps her eyes closed. Shakes her head.

"I meant of the war," Lexa says. "Not of me."

Clarke opens her eyes a sliver. "Are you?"

Lexa trails her hands to Clarke's hips. Digs her fingers against Clarke's hipbones. Sucks in a breath.

She kisses the hollow of Clarke's throat. Makes Clarke gasp out loud and curl her toes.

That's not an answer.

"Can I go further?" Lexa asks.

Clarke takes a breath in. Calms herself. She should probably stop grinding herself against Lexa's hand, which frankly, she just started doing. It's been a while. It feels good. She's being shameless about it, maybe, but she's only human.

"Further how?" Clarke asks.

Lexa swallows, and Clarke's sure that's a signal of nerves. It's kind of cute.