Clexa One Shots

Knots

By: Kendrene
This particular bed is for Clarke a source of comfort. A refuge. Tonight, however, she will find no rest in it.

She lays face down on the bed, the animal musk wafting from the pelts beneath her body heavy in her nostrils.

Lexa left her kneeling there what feels like a century ago, and her joints ache from holding the position for such a long time.

It doesn't help that the spreader bar Lexa fastened around her ankles prevents Clarke from at least closing her thighs or shift her weight now and then. Her hands are tied too, wrists bound together at the small of her back, the rope work so intricate it was impossible for her to follow as Lexa tied her up, so she has no hope of freeing herself without help.

Not that she would want to.

What Clarke does know, is that a second length of rope ties her wrists to the the spreader bar keeping her legs apart. This rope is different from the one Lexa wrapped around her wrists, softer and knotted at Intervals.

It rubs into her flesh whenever she tosses her shoulders to keep the blood flowing, the knots digging into her skin in a way Clarke decides is quite pleasant.

The rope continues downward, between her ass cheeks, scissoring through her folds before it connects to the spreader bar. Clarke did not realized that one of the small knots would rub right over her clit until she yanked her hands to loosen the bindings a little.

The discovery had left her open-mouthed, her expressing turning into a jaded grin when the shock wore off. Since Lexa left her to her own devices, she would make the most of it.

Except that, of course, the Commander had counted on the fact that she would.

She had thought that, by flexing her wrists and tugging on the rope, she could at least make herself come. It had looked like it would work in the beginning, her clit stiffening against the knot, her thighs running with arousal. Clarke managed to work herself up to the edge twice, but release dangled just out of reach both times.

Relaxing her shoulders, she lets out a frustrated groan, biting into the furs to stifle it.

"Do you think you've learned your lesson, Ambassador?"

Lexa's voice catches her by surprise, and Clarke jerks her head up, struggling to throw a look over her shoulder. She manages to twist partly around before the bite of the ropes goes from pleasurable to painful, biting the inside of her cheek when the knot between her legs grinds into her clit particularly hard.

Lexa watches her from where she is leaning against the doorway, an amused smile curving her lips. She is still wearing the same clothes in which Clarke saw her last, although the red sash indicating her rank is now thrown somewhat more messily over her shoulder, rather than being arranged in precise folds.

The Commander is a stickler for such details, and Clarke wonders what the minor change could mean.

Hopefully that she's earned release, if not forgiveness.

"Well?" Lexa asks, her tone clipped. She stalks across the room, fingers flexing along the hem of her sash. Clarke's spine twitches, her muscles sore from holding herself at a weird angle, and she collapses back on the bed with a huff, but not before she's caught a glimpse of her lover's pale-green gaze darkening.

"Yes, Heda." She pushes the words between the grind of her back teeth, knowing she is lying.

Lexa knows it too.

"Oh?" The exclamation is entirely made of fake surprise. "It took barely an hour for you to master patience?" The smirk she can clearly hear in Lexa's words, makes Clarke want to howl.