Clexa One Shots

Insatiable

She's watching you from across the fire, and you don't have to look to see the rigid strength of her posture, the darkness of her gaze, the flames folding into every crevice of her features and making you ache with the need to draw her... You know.

You've been purposely avoiding her gaze while watching her all evening.

However, Lexa's reciprocal gaze is anything but subtle. She has not moved from your peripheral for so long that your face burns, heat creeps down your neck and you can't help but fidget from the attention.

You're in the middle of a war, an actual war, where people have died, where more people will die, and your plans will dictate who those people will be.

So there's a distinct possibility that Lexa is tearing down scenarios in her head, that she's received new information that she needs to make sense of before telling you, that she's overheard the rumors spreading through the camp and she's thinking of how best to approach you about disciplining your people.

You don't know what it is. But you trust her to tell you if it's important, and you surprise yourself by not feeling the need to march over to her and demand to know immediately.

It's a testament to how far you've both come.

Lexa's an incredible leader, she is an intelligent and pragmatic visionary every bit worthy of the faith her people place in her.

But it isn't her leadership that has been distracting you lately. It isn't her battle prowess slinking low into your belly.

No, It's the tone she uses when the two of you are alone, the careful way she places herself next to you or reaches around you as not to invade your space. How she finds time to ask you about your life and is able to pull your focus to parts of your own stories that you mistook for irrelevant.

It's how her lips curl when she smirks, those tiny raised eyebrows and head tilts in meetings with generals that pass between the two of you like you've been communicating silently all of your lives.

It's the familiarity between the two of you, the ease in your existence that allows you to want. To recognize the incredible dichotomy of her existence and yearn to taste it yourself.

You want to strip her of her commanding attire, to see her soft and pliant beneath you while you stretch her open and devour her essence.

You want to bathe in her strength, scratch her open and swallow her hisses. You want to capture her with your hands and tongue and teeth and then maybe after, your charcoal pencils.

Your want intensifies.

And yes you've had sex before. As the council woman's daughter, you'd walked passed arm guards and directly into the room of an orphaned comrade. You fucked there, quickly. Hot breaths mingling with the intent to stay quiet. Another girls fingers curling inside of you with a new angle. Strokes that you've never been able to duplicate yourself, a roughness that you've never been quite able to manage alone. It was a new kind of orgasm, one that left you raw and shaking, and it was good.

On the ground, you slept with Finn. It was something that seemed entirely awkwardly sweetly romantic until it ceased to be slow. Until you ripped off each other's clothes so quickly that you were pulling him inside of you before you pushed him completely into the blankets.

He seemed so innocent as he keened and begged with every roll of your hips, moaned on every downward slide. You closed your eyes and tossed your head back content to soak in the sensations zinging through your body. You rode him to your orgasm, not stopping when he eased his desperate thrusts beneath you.