You got me high
But I'm not wearing a crown
So take a good, good, good look
'Cause I'm not messing around
Take a good, good, good look
You'll see me waiting for a...
“Do you think this can even work?” Echo asked her, breaking the silence finally. Clarke watched as Echo’s long finger traced the rim of the metal camp cup. “Like really work? Or--”
“Are we just stupid?”
Echo nodded, keeping her eyes trained on Clarke.
Clarke sighed and took a long draw of the berry wine she had made last year. She stared into the cup for a several long moments, her brain a mess of what ifs and upturned expectations and a low, strong pull that she felt low in her belly. To Bellamy, she thought, that feeling she fully uncovered in the six years apart. That desire she used in the six years to get her off, over and over, sometimes his spectre becoming so real she could almost feel him.
But now? There was Echo. And that was something new, heady, utterly different. And Bellamy with her became new, and different. Not bad. Just not the boy she had known.
“I don’t think we’re stupid,” Clarke replied finally, taking another sip of wine. “I just think this is hard. There were a few family units on the Ark that tried something like this. Were there any in Azgeda?”
Echo’s lips twitched into a smile even though her eyes were sad with remembrance. “Yeah, there were. My family, actually. I had two mothers and two fathers, and a lot of siblings. But it was relatively common in Azgeda.”
“Everyone in love?” Clarke felt a little squeamish at the asking, like it was too vulnerable. But she--and Echo--knew that she loved Bellamy. And she was starting to wonder if she could love Echo, too.
“With my family?” Echo shook her head and laughed a bit. “No. That was a...let’s say, diamond, perhaps, of alliances and arrangements. But they got along well enough. Others were love matches, though.”
After another brief, hesitant pause, Clarke straightened her shoulders. Nothing risked, nothing gained, after all. “Maybe we should just...try.”
Echo’s eyebrow lifted. “Try…?”
“A kiss.” Clarke said, and felt that as she said it all the breath left her body. Suddenly, she saw Echo, beyond just attraction. How beautiful she was, how patrician her profile, how elegant her bearing. Clarke licked her lips, thinking of nothing more than leaning in and brushing her lips against Echo’s.
Echo nodded slowly, her breath coming a bit short. “Okay.”
“I just think...if there’s nothing there, then…?”
“No, no, it makes sense.” Echo scooted to the edge of the chair, shifting closer to Clarke so that their knees brushed. “If there’s nothing between us, then we can negotiate something else.”
Echo said it so bluntly that it took Clarke a moment to why that made her feel vaguely hurt.
“But I’d like there to be...something between us.” Heat crept up Clarke’s neck and into her cheeks, and the admission made her feel a little shy. Practically, it would be easier, at least she thought it would be, for them to at least have the option of being a triad.. She knew she loved Bellamy, and had. He knew it now, and Echo did, too. The question now was, could she love Echo?
They didn’t have the time that Echo and Bellamy did, the history that she and Bellamy had. But maybe, maybe if this worked, they could figure out a shorthand, a bridge. Clarke wasn’t dumb or naive, and knew attraction and sex weren’t love--but they could be language, of sorts.
One that Clarke thought she and Echo might communicate better in. At least for now.
Kissing Echo didn’t have to be loaded with history, with memory, or anyone’s expectations. Not in this moment. In this moment, kissing Echo could just be about her, and Echo, and the great what if.
“You’re thinking too much.” Echo’s wry-dry voice cut through Clarke’s thoughts, and Clarke jerked her head up.
She felt a smile flicker on her mouth, and the pleasant, heady buzz of being flirted with.
“A fault of mine, I suppose.”
“Not a fault.” Echo slowly slid her hand onto Clarke’s knee. Echo hesitated long enough that Clarke felt the heat of Echo’s hand, the weight of it, the flirty-buzz sink into something deeper that traveled from her knee right into her cunt. “But you’re like Bellamy in that way,” Echo whispered as brought her other hand up to cup Clarke’s jaw. “Need a little help to take the next step.”
Clarke’s “Yeah,” came out as a sigh and affirmation. Used to be, she felt more impulsive about stuff like this. But. “It’s been six years.”
Echo tucked a curl behind Clarke’s ear. “And you’re nervous?”
“It’s okay. It’s just a kiss.”
Echo’s words were a spell, releasing whatever tension was in Clarke’s shoulders. She was right. It was just a kiss; for now, that’s all it had to be.
“Just seeing,” Clarke said.
“Just seeing.” Echo brought a finger under Clarke’s chin. “Shall we?”
By way of answering, Clarke leaned forward, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to Echo’s.
Echo instantly smiled under her mouth, and Clarke pulled back. “No good?”
“No--not no, it was fine--I just.” A sight she’d never thought she’d see--there was faint pretty pink blush on Echo’s cheekbones.
“Okay, I am nervous,” Echo admitted, “I thought I wouldn’t--shouldn’t be. But I am.”
A small huff of a giggle escaped Clarke’s mouth at being so quickly put on the other foot, but then she felt a sense of security, of curiosity--more, of pure desire--quiet her nerves and a sense of power stir up her spine. It had been six years since she had kissed anyone, and the thought that it was going to be Echo suddenly became a small gift. She could do this. She wanted this.
Moreover, life could still surprise.
Clarke slowly brought a hand to Echo’s shoulder and, keeping her eyes locked with Echo’s, watched her eyes soften as Clarke’s hand caressed up her neck. She paused to massage lightly. Echo leaned into the touch, lips parting.
“That feels good.” Echo sighed.
“Yeah?” Clarke slid her hand into Echo’s scalp, and Echo moaned. “You like that?”
“Bellamy always said I was like a cat.”
“I can see that.”
Echo lifted an eyebrow. “I would ask you what you mean by that but--”
“Oh you know. Moody, slightly hostile. But cuddly.”
“You’re not wrong,” Echo laughed.
Clarke smirked, curled her free hand into Echo’s thin tank top and pulled her close. “I know I’m not.”
This time, when she pressed her lips to Echo, neither one of them giggled or pulled away. They were still, together, just for a moment, letting the question answer itself.
A white-hot thrill of pleasure darted into Clarke’s low belly, and she sighed into Echo’s mouth. Echo traced her tongue over Clarke’s lips, gently insisting, and Clarke opened them, wanting more, needing more. Fuck, it felt so good to be kissing someone, to feel the wet slide of tongue, the little jolt when Echo’s long fingers snaked their way under her tank top to brush the bare, sensitive skin of her hips.
They both pulled away at the same time, but not too far, leaving their foreheads touching. Tensions between them thrummed, and their movements were jerky, restless. Echo’s thumbs stroking long swipes under Clarke’s shirts, right at the bottom of her ribs; Clarke gripping Echo’s thighs, barely able to resist pushing Echo’s legs apart and burying her face in Echo’s cunt.
“So…,” Clarke whispered once she caught her breath. “I think we like kissing.”
Echo snorted softly, and dropped a light, sweet kiss on Clarke’s mouth. “Yeah, I don’t want to stop, to be honest.”
“Good,” Clarke kissed her again, this time longer and lingering and soft. When she broke the kiss she said, “Me either.”
Clarke stood up, pulling Echo with her without breaking their embrace, walking Echo backwards until she hit the bed. “This okay?” Clarke asked.
“Yes,” Echo nipped Clarke’s bottom lip between her teeth, enough to sting. Clarke moaned as she felt her skin go taut all over, her nipples tighten, sparks tingle up her neck. The feelings of arousal, of the heat in her pussy, of the desire for more more more now now now were so fresh, so unfamiliar, it felt like she would burst with the want of it all.
It had been so long since someone else had touched her like this, and not since she was a teenager exploring in dark hallways and closets, had Clarke fucked someone without doom on the horizon.
But in this moment, as Echo giggled when her hair got stuck as her tank came off, or threw her head back as Clarke nosed against her damp, hot, denim-covered cunt, it was all about future, and possibility.
“Clarke, clarke, wait wait wait,” Echo panted, sitting up and gently pushing Clarke’s forehead. “It’s been so long for you.” Echo said it gingerly, knowing that it was a sore point, but she followed it with delicate kisses from the top of Clarke’s forehead down the curve of her jaw. “Don’t you want me to get you off first?”
The image of looking down her naked body to see Echo between her legs made Clarke dizzy. After six years, sure, she wanted someone else to give her an orgasm. Her own fingers and imagination got pretty old years ago. But the flipside of that was that Clarke wanted to give someone else pleasure, wanted to taste wet pussy on her tongue, feel Echo’s cunt clench and flutter on her fingers.
“No,” Clarke murmured, nuzzling into Echo’s neck, running her lips over the delicate skin at her collarbone. “Let me make you come.”
Echo drew Clarke up so she could kiss her fully on the mouth, long and so dreamy, so intense, that Clark almost swooned. “Okay then,” Echo conceded as she flopped back on the bed. “You can make me come. If you want.”
Clarke smirked and sank her teeth into Echo’s lean belly, just enough to make the other woman squirm and sigh. Then she took her time to lay sloppy, wet kisses down Echo’s torso, biting at the waistband of her pants, moving down her thighs.
“Fuck, I missed this,” Clarke said as she breathed in Echo’s scent. She was a little surprised at the mix of emotions that had percolated to the top of her consciousness. She took another breath, letting the small bubbles of memories make the erotic all that more piquant. “Are you sure?”
Echo’s eyebrow lifted, a trademark move that Clarke was coming to adore. “Yes, Clarke.” For her insolence, Clarke rubbed her chin where she knew Echo’s clit would be, giving her enough pressure to make her keen. “Yes, please, fuck. I want your mouth on me. And we talked about this with Bellamy, remember?”
“Yes, I remember.” Whatever Clarke and Echo wanted to have happen, could happen. With that, Clarke hooked her fingers on the tops of Echo’s pants and in one motion, pulled them all the way down to her ankles. Two seconds later, they joined Echo’s tank top in the corner of the room, along with her panties and bandeau bra. Echo lay naked and beautiful, propped up on her elbows, brown-bronze hair curling over her tan, slim shoulders, perfect tits with large, dusky-rose areolas and tight, hard nipples.
Echo drew her feet up to the ledge of the bed frame and let her knees fall open, exposing herself to Clarke.
“Fuck.” Echo’s cunt glistened in the low light of Clarke’s room, her thighs damp with arousal. Clarke positioned herself kneeling between Echo’s legs, leaned in and lapped at the moisture on her thighs and was rewarded with a sharp gasp.
“You want my mouth on you?” Clarke asked as she licked slowly up Echo’s thighs.
“Mmm,” Echo hummed and canted her hips forward. “Please.”
Clarke nosed the damp, dark curls at the apex of Echo’s thighs, breathing her in, following the touch with her tongue. Clarke moaned at Echo’s taste, sweet and salty at the same time. Clarke dipped two fingers gently into Echo’s center, just enough to coat her fingers in Echo’s arousal and draw it slowly up her pussy, ending with small, light circles over Echo’s nub.
Clarke locked her gaze with Echo, made her watch as Clarke spread her open, taking her time to trace her fingers over the pink folds.
“Are you sure?” Clarke asked, leaning over so that her lips were so close to Echo’s clit Clarke knew she could feel her breath.
“Clarke, beja, put your mouth on me,” Echo pleaded, darting her hand down to grip Clarke’s hair. “I’ll do it myself if I have to.”
Shit. Pure, unadulterated lust moved hot and liquid through Clarke’s belly.
Making sure Echo still watched, Clarke licked her from bottom to top with the flat of her tongue; she did it over and over, not caring about the moans that escaped her mouth as she lapped up Echo’s cunt.
Echo whimpered, whisper-chanting a mix of pleads and demands, as Clarke lapped at Echo’s clit, alternating between circles and licks and enough friction to make Echo’s hips start to grind on her mouth before letting up, moving away, exploring Echo’s taint or the sensitive skin of her thighs of pressing her tongue teasingly into her hole.
“Like that, just like that, beja beja beja.” Echo gripped the back of Clarke’s head, shoved her hips almost off the mattress. “Fuck me with your tongue.”
With every demand from Echo, Clarke could feel her cunt dripping, the heavy weight of her wet underwear, her need to grind on anything.
Fuck it. Clarke gave into the sensation, fucking her hips on air, trying to grind uselessly on the seam of her pants, matching the pace with her tongue that ruthlessly plunged in and out of Echo’s pussy.
Clarke could tell Echo was close--her belly spasmed and her slick walls fluttered and clenched over Clarke’s tongue. Clarke licked back up to Echo’s clit, pressed her tongue flat and hard against her swollen nub. Echo shuddered above her, locked her thighs over Clarke’s face as she let herself give into fucking Clarke’s mouth.
“Fingers!” She gasped.
Clarke pressed two fingers into Echo, a third at Echo’s “More!”, curling them to hit that just-right spot.
Echo’s cunt clamped hard on Clarke’s fingers, thighs vise-like around her as Echo let out a low, primal, moan. Echo’s hips snapped in tiny circles, finding that perfect release, and she spasmed, curling over Clarke as she came.
Clarke held steady, not releasing her fingers or tongue until Echo fell back on her palms, legs dropping heavy off Clarke’s shoulders.
“Fuck, Clarke,” Echo giggle-sighed, almost a little shy. She reached up and swiped her thumb over Clarke’s swollen lips, wet chin. “Look at you.”
“Am I mess?” Clarke asked coquettishly. She sat back on her heels, letting the air cool her heated cunt. “I wonder why.”
“Come here?” Echo patted the bed beside her.
“You’re into cuddling after?” Clarke asked as she slowly rose from her kneeling position, stretching her arms out overhead and feeling both satisfied and ridiculously turned on.
Echo snorted as she scooted over and flipped on her side, making room for Clarke. “Don’t sound so shocked.” Echo skimmed her hand over Clarke’s belly, under the fabric of her tanktop. “You’re still dressed.”
Clarke peered down. “So I am.”
“I think we need to do something about that.”
“Me too.” Clarke sighed happily. “But first…,” She pulled Echo down over her, settling the other woman’s weight between her legs, luxuriating in the clothed/unclothed contrast between them. “Let’s kiss a little, huh?”