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“How was your date?” Raven asks, not looking up from her laptop as Clarke shuts their dorm room door behind her and makes her way to her bed.

“Isn’t it weird if we talk about this?”

“I told you, I don’t care if you date my ex. Though I don’t know why you would want to.”

Clarke pulls her heels off and kicks them under her bed so she doesn’t trip on them when she gets up in the morning. She probably won’t be able to find them next time she wants to wear them, but she’s too lazy to put them back on the shoe rack in her wardrobe.

“He asked me to suck his dick,” Clarke sighs.

“Do you think it’s on the small side? He tried to convince me it was average. On the small side of average maybe.”

“I didn’t see it,” Clarke huffs. “I told him maybe next time, and then I took off.”

“Good call,” Raven says. “But you’ll have to do it at some point if you want to keep seeing him. It doesn’t take long with him anyway, and then you can move on to more pleasant things.”

“It’s not that,” Clarke says. She hesitates. She’s been rooming with Raven for a few months now, and while she considers them friends, she’s not sure she’s ready to admit her embarrassing secret. Are they close enough for that? Can Clarke trust Raven not to spread it around? Only one way to find out. “It’s just—I’ve never done it before.”

“Oh,” Raven says. She doesn’t even seem that surprised. “He’s not going to care.”

“But I told him I was experienced.”

“Is this just a never-given-a-blowjob thing, or a never-done-anything thing?”

Clarke screws up her nose. “I’m a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Honestly, he probably won’t even notice,” Raven says. “You don’t have to tell him you’ve never done it.”

“I should never have lied,” Clarke groans, falling back onto her bed. “It just sounded better when we first started talking. I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of him.”

“Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal,” Raven tells her. “But if you’re that worried about it, you could always go buy a pen.”

Clarke is sure she’s heard wrong. She had a couple of drinks with Finn, but she’s not so drunk that it should seem like Raven is speaking gibberish. “Huh? How is a pen going to help me?”

Raven snorts out a laugh. “There’s a guy on campus who kind of… gives out sex lessons. It’s like a hundred bucks a session or something, but he does it under the guise of selling pens. You buy a hundred-dollar pen and then he also happens to teach you how to fuck.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Clarke says. “How do you even know this?”

“My friend Harper went to him. She said it was very informative.”

“This is stupid,” Clarke says. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay.”

There’s a silence as Clarke stews in the silence, filled only by the quiet tapping of Raven’s keyboard. She’s not going to act on it or anything, but she is curious about this guy.

“What’s his name?” she asks, nonchalant.

She swears she can hear Raven smirking. “Bellamy Blake.”

 

-

 

His door is open when she walks past. Not fully open, just enough that she can see his neatly made double bed against one wall.

She’d grilled Raven for the specifics, after sleeping on it, and waking up realising it’s not the worst idea ever. She just doesn’t want to be unprepared. She hates being unprepared. Which is kind of the reason she needs sex lessons to begin with.

To Raven’s credit, she answered every question without the slightest hint of judgement.

So the door is open, which means he’s there, and he hasn’t got a client with him at the moment. Still, Clarke walks past a second time, belly churning with nerves. Can she actually do this? Knock on this stranger’s door and ask him to teach her how to give a blowjob?

She walks past a third time. When she doubles back for a fourth, there’s a man standing in the doorway. Clarke stops dead, eyes wide, heart in her throat.

“Can I help you?” he asks. He’s hot. She wasn’t expecting him to be so hot. All curly hair and brown skin and freckles. And arms.

“I want to buy a pen,” she blurts out.

He swings the door open. “Come in.”

Clarke ducks past him and into his dorm room. He’s one of the lucky ones that gets a room to himself. Seniors get first dibs at those.

“I’m Bellamy,” he says, shutting the door behind him.

“Clarke,” she responds, a little faintly. She’s even more nervous now that she’s seen him. How is she going to tell a guy this hot that she doesn’t know how to give a blowjob? And she’s just going to be self-conscious the whole time, wondering if she’s doing it right. This experience was supposed to negate that uncertainty.

“Clarke,” he repeats. “What kind of pen are you after?”

“Um—” she starts. “The kind where you teach me how to give a blowjob so the guy I’m seeing doesn’t know I’ve never done it before?”

He gives a low chuckle that seems to settle itself in the pit of Clarke’s stomach in a strangely pleasant way.

“Okay,” he says. “Hundred bucks, half an hour. No refunds.”

Clarke nods, scrambling in her bag to pull out the cash she brought. She hands it to him, and he puts it into a cash tin on his desk. He then picks up a kitchen timer and turns the dial to thirty minutes. They’re in session.

Clarke watches him as he goes to his bed and sits on the edge. His hands reach for his belt.

“Wait,” Clarke says quickly. Bellamy stops, eyeing her.

“No refunds, remember?”

“I know,” Clarke says. She swallows. “Can we just, um—sit for a moment? I just need a second.”

Bellamy nods, and Clarke spins his desk chair around so she can sit down. Her heart is pounding. What was she thinking, coming here? It all seems too real now. Is she really paying to give a guy a blowjob? Any random guy on campus would happily do it for free. But, she reminds herself, they wouldn’t teach her how to do it properly. Which is the point.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy asks.

“Yeah,” Clarke says. “It’s just weird for me to do this with someone I barely know. It’s weird to be doing it at all. What am I doing here exactly?”

“I think only you can answer that.”

Clarke groans. “I don’t normally do things like this.”

“No one does. It’s usually a one-off type deal.”

She eyes his crotch warily. She paid for this—shouldn’t she just do it? Then she can go back to Finn and show him she’s not an inexperienced loser.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Bellamy offers, as if reading her mind. “You’ll still get your pen at the end.”

Clarke snorts. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

“Well,” Bellamy muses, tilting his head. He grins at Clarke’s insulted expression. “I’m just kidding. Not judging. Not really in a position to judge.”

“I just—hate not being prepared. I’m the kind of person who checks out the menu of a restaurant before I go so I know what to order. I came to this campus religiously after I got in so I’d know where all my classes were and I wouldn’t get lost. But sex isn’t like that. You can’t learn it before you do it. No matter how much you read.”

“It is kind of a hands-on learning situation,” Bellamy concedes. “But is the guy you’re seeing really going to care?”

Clarke shrugs. “I don’t know. I kind of let him think I was experienced, and he seemed excited by that. Isn’t that what guys want? Someone who knows what they’re doing?”

The corners of Bellamy’s lips curl in a subtle smirk. “Not necessarily. I like to teach.”

Clarke finds herself blushing. “Of course you do.”

He laughs, and for some reason that gets her blushing even harder. He’s so not what she expected. She expected some creepy white guy who got his dick out as soon as the door was closed, then pushed her out the door as soon as he’s shot his load down her throat.

But Bellamy is not only hot, but he’s kind of sweet, and cute, and a little devilish too. She’d be lying if she said it wasn’t a turn-on. Still, she remains in her seat. She glances at the ticking timer. They have fifteen minutes left. Would it take that long to get him off if she started now?

“Can I ask you what experience you’ve had?” Bellamy asks.

Clarke nods, squirming a little at the thought of telling him. But that’s what this is all about, right? “Just—kissing mostly. Some, um, fondling. Me being fondled. I fingered a girl once. Easier, since I can practice that on myself.”

“So, no experience with a cock?”

Clarke shakes her head, ignoring the slight throb between her legs at his casual use of the word cock. “Is that okay?”

Bellamy nods. “Better, really. No bad habits I have to help you unlearn.” He grins. His smile is heart-melting.

“Okay, should I—” she gestures vaguely towards his groin.

“I’ll leave it up to you,” he says. “When you’re ready. If you’re ready.”

“Do you think it’s weird that I’ve never done it before?”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “No,” he says. He seems sincere. “You think everyone is supposed to lose their virginity by the time they’re eighteen?”

Clarke chews her lip. “I guess not. But I feel like everyone else has done it but me.”

Bellamy shrugs. “Maybe they’re lying too.”

“What made you start doing this anyway?”

“I needed the money,” Bellamy says wryly. “I’ve been doing it since freshman year. Thank god none of the faculty have ever caught on. A lot of people really think I just sell really nice pens.”

“Are they really nice? Can I see them?”

“Sure,” he says. He jumps up and goes to the desk, standing over her as he opens the drawer to her left. This close to him, she can smell the manly scent of his aftershave. She focuses on the pens.

She’d been expecting run-of-the-mill plastic ballpoints, bought in bulk, so he can make the highest return on the actual product he’s selling—his body. But these are actually nice pens. Carved from wood, each one a slightly different design.

“Wait,” she says, picking one out of the drawer. “Do you actually make these?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, shrugging, as if it’s no big deal. “I like woodwork. I work at a hardware store and they let me take random bits of wood that’s just going to get discarded, and my friend’s dad lets me use his tools, since I don’t have the space here for my own.”

“So you actually do sell pens.”

“The pens a just a cover.”

“Bellamy, these are really nice pens,” Clarke says, twirling it between her fingers. “People would buy these pens just for the pens.”

She looks up at him, and he screws up his nose, clearly embarrassed by her compliment. “You think?”

“Absolutely. Do I get to pick which one I get?”

“Of course.”

Clarke rifles through the pens, and ends up picking a dark coloured one, with carved ridges for her fingers to rest in. She grabs a post it from beside Bellamy’s laptop on the desk and scribbles a note for him, just to test the pen, then places the note on his right pectoral muscle, smoothing it down to make sure it’s nice and stuck. It has nothing to do with her curiosity about how hard his chest is. (Which, for the record, is very hard.)

He looks down at the neon pink post it, then plucks it from his chest so he can read it. “I really enjoyed my time at Pen Island. Love, Clarke,” he reads. “Real mature.”

Clarke beams up at him, and he shakes his head, a smile forming across his own face. A high-pitched screech fills the room as the kitchen timer reaches zero, startling them both. Clarke stares at the timer for a moment, almost disappointed their time is up. And not entirely because she never got the chance to suck his dick.

“Well,” she says, standing up. “Thanks for the pen. Sorry I wasted your time.”

“Hey, I got paid still,” he grins. Clarke lets out a light chuckle. She does feel slightly less bad about it now.

“Okay,” she says, not sure why its’s taking her so long to leave. Why she doesn’t want to leave. “I’ll see you around, I guess?”

“Yeah,” Bellamy agrees. “See you.”

Clarke nods, and heads for the door.

“Clarke,” he calls after her, just as her fingers grasp the door handle. She turns back to him, and he hesitates. “Uh—good luck. With the guy. I’m sure he’ll love whatever you do.”

“Thanks,” Clarke says with a smile, then disappears into the hallway.

 

-

 

It takes Clarke a week of avoiding Finn, and thinking about sucking Bellamy’s cock, before she works up the courage to go back.

She doesn’t tell Raven about it this time. Her roommate had teased her enough about chickening out the first time, and Clarke doesn’t want to hear it again, if she happens to fail a second time. Raven already thinks the first time was a waste of money, even if she had gone through with it. Why pay to suck a guy’s cock when she can suck Finn’s for free? And who cares if she’s not good at it, when Finn isn’t any good at oral sex either?

But it matters to Clarke, and even if paying for sex is something she never dreamed she’d do, somehow this feels different. She gets a nice pen out of it, after all.

She doesn’t dither about like she did last time, just walks up to his partially open door with determination, and knocks purposefully.

“Yeah?” he calls. Clarke pushes the door open. She freezes when she realises he isn’t alone. Lying on Bellamy’s bed is a black guy with a beanie pulled down low over his ears. Bellamy himself is slouched in his desk chair, focused on his laptop.

“Um, hi,” Clarke says, all her earlier courage quickly seeping out of her. Bellamy finally looks up.

“Get out,” he says tersely. For a moment, Clarke thinks he’s talking to her, and the words hit her like a punch in the gut. She’s about to slink off and hide in embarrassment, but then the guy on the bed sighs loudly, and gets to his feet.

Clarke steps out of his way so he can pass, and he gives her what can only be described as a very disapproving look as he leaves. Bellamy beckons Clarke into the room, and she scurries inside, closing the door behind her.

“Was that your boyfriend?” Clarke asks, if only to have something to say.

“Just a friend,” Bellamy says, but he doesn’t seem offended by her asking. “He’s not totally on board with the selling my body thing. He doesn’t like people using me.”

“Oh,” Clarke says. She hadn’t thought about it that way. She supposes she is using him. But he’s the one offering up the service.

“Don’t look so guilty,” Bellamy snorts. “I don’t think I’m being used. This whole thing is only until I finish college anyway, which is in a few months.”

“And then what? Start your own pen business?”

Bellamy smiles, and Clarke’s heart lurches. He really has some smile. “Maybe on the side. I’m going to be a teacher.”

“Oh,” Clarke says. “That’s cool.”

“And you?”

“I don’t really know yet,” Clarke shrugs. “I’m studying art but it’s not exactly a lucrative career choice.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Bellamy says. Clarke nods. “Anyway, I know you didn’t come here to chat about your major. You’re not here for a refund, are you?”

“The opposite, actually.” She pulls out the hundred-dollar bill she has stuffed in the pocket of her jeans.

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “You sure? Feel like you kind of wasted your money last time.”

“It wasn’t a waste,” Clarke insists. “And this time I really am going to suck your cock.” His eyes flash with excitement. It’s brief, but unmistakably there. It makes Clarke feel better about the whole thing—at least she’s not entirely forcing herself on him.

“You don’t have more important things to spend your money on?”

Clarke shrugs. “My parents give me an allowance.” She feels a little embarrassed admitting that, when he has to resort to what is essentially prostitution to get himself through college. “They don’t need to know what I spend it on.”

“Alright, well I’m all for sticking it to mommy and daddy’s money,” he says. He takes the bill from her hand and puts it into the cash tin. He sets the timer again, then he stands, and saunters over to his bed, sitting on the edge of it, legs spread, just like last time. Unlike last time, he doesn’t move to undo his jeans.

Clarke hesitates, but she doesn’t feel the same apprehension as she did last time. More anticipation. He watches her as she comes towards him, then sinks to her knees between his legs. She looks up at him, lip caught between her teeth, heart pounding.

“How am I doing so far?” she asks.

Bellamy chuckles. “You seem to have it worked out.”

“What should I do now?”

Instead of telling her in words, he takes her hands, engulfing them in his, and brings them towards his crotch, sliding her palms up his thighs until he reaches his fly. Clarke can feel him watching her, but her eyes a focused on the bulge beneath her hands.

“Go at whatever pace you feel comfortable with,” Bellamy says. Clarke nods. She glances up to meet his eyes. “Before we start—” he continues. “Where do you want me to come? Cleanest way is in your mouth, but if you don’t want me to do that—”

“In my mouth,” Clarke agrees quickly. God, the thought of his come in her mouth has her cunt throbbing.

“Okay,” he says.

She focuses her attention back on his crotch, and pops the button on his jeans, opening his fly. His navy boxers come into view, and she can feel her whole body alight with anticipation. His cock is just there, throbbing beneath one layer of cotton.

Clarke swallows, gives herself a second to compose herself, then edges his jeans down, him lifting himself slightly off the bed, until she has his jeans at his ankles, then all the way off. She probably doesn’t need to remove them completely, but maybe she’s stalling a little.

She eyes his bulge, then palms it gently, feeling it grow even further beneath her touch. She looks up at him, meets his lustful gaze, then slips her hand into his boxers, her tiny hand curling around a thick cock.

She squirms slightly, pressing her legs together to try to dull the growing ache between them. He seems quite relaxed as she adjusts his boxers, and removes his cock from the confines of the underwear.

She has seen a cock before, in porn, and that one time Jasper Jordan streaked down the dorm corridor. Bellamy’s cock is closer to porn. Big and veiny and hard, leaking from the tip like she’s leaking into her panties.

“Now what?” she asks, her voice coming out weak and husky, like she’s been rendered almost speechless by the sight of his cock.

“Use your tongue,” he says. “Get my cock all nice and wet. Act like it’s the best thing you ever tasted.”

She tentatively sticks her tongue out and leans her face towards his cock.

“A little less like a lizard,” he suggests. Clarke pouts, raising her eyes to see his cheeky grin. “Make it look sexy.”

“I feel stupid,” Clarke says.

“Look, truth is, unless you bite me, you can’t really do it wrong. So just… relax. And keep your teeth away.”

“Very funny.”

“It’s no laughing matter,” he says. Clarke wonders if he’s had a bad experience with teeth before.

She drops her gaze back to his cock, staring somewhat menacingly at her. She brings her mouth towards his cock, this time leaving her tongue in her mouth until the last moment, then drags it over the head of his cock, lapping up his precum. It definitely isn’t the best thing she’s ever tasted, but neither is it as horrible as she imagined.

She explores his cock with her tongue slowly, feeling every ridge and vein from the head to the base. She doesn’t have to act like she’s enjoying herself—she finds she actually is enjoying herself. She likes the way he feels under her tongue, the way he tastes. The way she can hear his breath hitch whenever she moves her tongue just right.

“My balls too,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly. “Lick my balls.”

She does as he commands, almost eager to get her tongue on them, exalting in the tiny groan that escapes his mouth as she licks him.

“Take me in your mouth,” he says. Clarke follows his instruction obediently. His hand slides into her hair as she wraps her mouth around the head of his cock, pushing her forward slightly. “You don’t have to take the whole thing,” he assures her. Which she’s pretty sure would be impossible anyway. His girth and length would make breathing very difficult.

She keeps going until his cock reaches the back of her throat, and she gags slightly, but doesn’t back off. She swallows, eliciting a small grunt from Bellamy.

“You can use your hands too,” he encourages. “Don’t need to do anything fancy. Feels so good just having your mouth on me. Look so pretty on your knees for me. Just up and down—good girl, like that. That’s so good, Clarke.”

Clarke isn’t sure he’s even aware what he’s saying as she follows his instructions, bobbing up and down on his cock, her hand working where her mouth can’t reach, his hand still firmly clenched in her hair. She still feels kind of stupid, slobbering all over his crotch, but his words off affirmation make her feel all tingly, and she’s really getting into it now.

“Yes, baby, just like that,” he groans. “Fuck, you’re a natural.” Clarke half feels like that comment should offend her, but all it does is send a thrill through her, her panties dampening by the second.

Bellamy’s words trail off as he gets closer to orgasm, less full sentences and more short phrases. Yes. Good girl. Clarke. Baby.

“I’m gonna come,” he manages, jerking his hips towards her face. “Gonna come in your mouth, baby.”

He grunts animalistically as he shoots his load into her mouth, sticky liquid running over her tongue and slipping down her throat. She takes it all greedily, taking his advice and acting like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted. It’s still not the worst thing she’s ever tasted.

She pops his cock from her mouth, swallowing his come, then wiping the back of her hand across her lips. He’s breathing heavy as he removes his hand from her hair. Her ponytail is ruined.

“Um,” she says, her anxieties coming back to her now that she’s not lost in the moment. “So how was it?”

“Good,” Bellamy says. “Really fucking good. Like I said, you’re a natural.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”

“Definitely a compliment,” he says, smiling wryly. “How was it for you? Not too horrible I hope?”

“No,” Clarke says with a shake of her head. “I kind of liked it actually.”

“Yeah?” He seems surprised, and Clarke nods, a little shyly. She sees him glance behind her at the desk, presumably at the kitchen timer. “Fifteen minutes left,” he says, his eyes flitting back to hers. “I could—go down on you, if you like?”

Clarke’s stomach lurches and her face goes hot. “That’s not part of the session,” she says quickly.

“You paid for half an hour.”

“What would it teach me?”

He shrugs. “Pleasure.”

It’s such a line, and she tries not to be affected by it, but she’s not entirely sure she succeeds. There’s something lodged in her throat, something craving between her legs.

She lifts her chin as he tucks his cock back into his boxers. “I don’t think you could do it in fifteen minutes.”

“Fourteen, now. If I can’t, I’ll let you have the overtime for free.”

She chews her lip. She thinks he actually wants to do this. Like he might get pleasure out of putting his tongue in her cunt, the way she got pleasure from sucking him off. And god does she want it too.

She’s still beet red when she responds: “Okay.”

He pats the bed, then helps her to her feet.

“Maybe jeans off first,” he says.

Clarke nods, stomach fluttering as she kicks off her shoes and socks, then pops the button on her high waisted jeans.

“Come here,” Bellamy growls, grabbing her hips and pulling her towards him. He tugs her jeans down, and his face is already so close to her pussy she wants to faint. Thankfully, he holds her steady with a strong, muscled arm.

He leaves her jeans at her thighs, and lets her remove them the rest of the way, but she can feel his eyes on her, and she’s so consciously aware of him watching her it’s embarrassing. At least she’s wearing acceptable underwear. Not her sexiest, but not the ugly grandma panties she wears when she’s on her period.

“On the bed,” he tells her, once she’s left standing in just her t-shirt and panties. She crawls onto the bed, then settles her head on his pillow. It smells like him, and she lets herself bask in it a little.

His face appears above hers. “Are you ready?” he asks her. Clarke nods, and Bellamy disappears again, settling himself between her legs. She tilts her chin down to look at him, but then decides the visual is too much, and casts her eyes towards the ceiling.

Bellamy parts her knees, then presses his lips to her inner thigh. She shivers. She’s holding her breath as he kisses his way up her thigh languidly, until her skin is thrumming with anticipation, and her clit is aching to be touched. His tongue flicks against the wet patch on her panties and she gasps.

He drags her panties down her thighs, and she resists the urge to cover herself. She glances down at him, sees him staring at her open slit, can feel his breath, hot on her cunt. It’s altogether too intimate. She squeezes her eyes shut, and a moment later she feels his tongue slip between her folds.

He locates her clit, teases it with an expertise she had been sure no man possessed. He focuses on her clit only, and she can feel her pussy clenching around nothing, yearning for something inside it. He has her panting, writhing, on the brink of orgasm within minutes. It would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

Her fists clench in his bedcovers, unsure if she’s allowed to grab his hair the way he’d done with her. Her hips thrust towards his face of their own accord, and she can hear herself making pathetic moaning noises as she desperately chases her release.

She cries out in ecstasy, her cunt flooding out onto his face and her thighs, her orgasm rolling through her like a tsunami, two seconds before the room is filled with the shrill sound of the timer reaching zero.

Clarke keeps her eyes closed for a minute, letting her breathing return to normal. Only when her sanity has returned to her does she realise she’s still half naked on his bed, wetter than she’s ever been. She sits up, covering her nakedness with her t-shirt. He grins at her smugly.

“Told you I could do it,” he says.

“Your smugness about it kind of ruins it,” Clarke says. But really she’s just feeling very overwhelmed with how good he made her feel and how his chin is all shiny with her juices. She looks away, flushing.

“You ever tasted yourself before?” he asks. Clarke shakes her head. “Do you want to?”

Technically their session is over, but if he wants to continue teaching her, who is she to say no?

“Okay,” she agrees. She figures he just wants to watch her put her fingers in her pussy then lick them, but before she can do any such thing, he leans forward and kisses her, open-mouthed and messy. She lets his tongue invade her mouth, and she can taste herself on him. She kisses back, hard, and she can feel a tug in her lower belly that tells her she doesn’t want him to stop.

He pulls away abruptly, leaving her breathless and wanting.

“Here,” he says, handing her the underwear he’d pulled off her earlier. He almost looks like he doesn’t want to give them back. She almost tells him to keep them, but she’s worried she might come off as crazy. She’s just some random girl who paid to suck his cock. Why would he want her dirty panties?

She takes them from him, and he hurriedly looks away, getting up off the bed, as she wriggles back into them.

“Do you want to choose your own pen again, or do you want me to choose for you?” he asks, heading for the desk and pulling the pen drawer open. Clarke picks her jeans up off the floor and tugs them on.

“I want to choose,” Clarke says. She sidles up to him, looking down into the drawer. This time she picks out a streaky looking pen with a kind of bulbous head.

“That one was kind of an experiment,” he admits. “Not very practical.”

“It’s unique,” Clarke says. She smiles up at him, and is rewarded with a slight smile back.

“Do you want a mint?” he asks.

Clarke’s mouth drops open. “Does my breath smell?”

“Probably,” he says. “Sorry. That’s not how I meant it. I normally offer someone sucks my dick, but I kind of forgot in the excitement of going down on you.”

“Oh,” Clarke says. “Okay.”

He heads for the chest of drawers by the bed, and Clarke watches his ass when he bends over to rifle through it. She quickly realises what she’s doing and hastily averts her eyes, her attention instead falling on his closed laptop on the desk. Her own laptop has sharpie doodled all over it, but Bellamy’s is undecorated, save for the neon pink post-it tacked to it. Her heart skips a beat when she realises it’s the one she wrote when she was here last week.

“Here,” he says, and Clarke jumps to attention, as if she’s been caught doing something wrong. She takes a mint from the packet offered to her and pops it into her mouth.

She sucks on it for a moment, then, feeling brave, she brings up the post-it. “You kept this,” she says, finger tracing over it. She glances up at him.

For a moment he seems unsure of himself, and there’s a slight bashfulness to the way he drops his head and scratches his neck. “I thought it was cute,” he shrugs. “I mean. It was funny.”

“I thought you said it was immature.”

“It can be both.”

She wants to kiss him again. Instead, she tightens her grip on the pen, and gives him a nod. “Thanks again,” she says. “I hope Finn is impressed with my technique.”

Bellamy snorts. “Just don’t count on him returning the favour.”

 

-

 

She’s prepared at least, the next time she sees Finn. They’re just hanging out in her dorm room, since Raven is away for the weekend, and she decides she’s going to test out her new skills.

He’s excited, which is nice, and he rids himself of his pants and underwear quicker than Clarke would have thought possible.

She thinks Raven was doing Finn a disservice—he is pretty average sized, as far as Clarke can tell. Which means he’s a lot smaller than Bellamy, but Clarke thinks this might work in her favour, because she’ll probably be able to get the whole thing in her mouth.

She positions herself between his knees on the floor, while he sits on the bed. Best to keep the conditions the same for her first time without an instructor. She starts the way she had with Bellamy—licking him slowly, trying to learn his cock. But Finn isn’t impressed.

“Clarke,” he huffs. “What are you doing? Just put it in your mouth.”

She flushes, annoyance at Bellamy surging through her. He was supposed to help her make it seem like she was experienced, and now Finn is scolding her for her incompetence. She shakes her head, ridding herself of thoughts of Bellamy, and takes Finn’s cock in her mouth.

It takes him all of a minute before he comes in her mouth without warning. She chokes it down, despite the overwhelming urge to spit it out. She waits for praise, but there is none, and there’s certainly no offer of reciprocation, just as Bellamy had predicted. It doesn’t matter, she’d probably turn him down anyway. Sucking his cock had done nothing for her libido, and the thought of him slobbering around down there is just kind of unpleasant.

Finn seems satisfied though, and she realises Bellamy and Raven were both right. Finn doesn’t care whether she’s experienced or not. He pulls up his pants and goes back to texting.

“Um,” Clarke says, picking herself up from the floor. “I just wanted to tell you, I kind of lied about being experienced with sex. I’m a virgin.”

Finn looks up. “Oh,” he says. “But you’re going to put out right? Like, soon?”

“Yeah,” Clarke agrees. Why not just get it over and done with with Finn, since he so obviously doesn’t care either way? “After our next date?”

Finn smiles. He pulls her back on to the bed to kiss her. “Can’t wait,” he says, then continues eating her face unpleasantly.

 

-

 

Their next date is a party, thrown by some fraternity Clarke doesn’t really want to associate with. But it’s where Finn is taking her, so she tags along, thinking about how she can’t wait for this whole night to be over, including the part where she loses her virginity to Finn.

As soon as they walk in, Finn disappears, telling her he’s going to get them some drinks. Clarke waits awkwardly by the door for five minutes before realising he’s probably gotten side-tracked and forgotten all about her. She considers just leaving, but she’s here now, and she promised Finn she’d sleep with him tonight, so she resigns herself to staying.

She wanders into the living room, trying to find someone she recognises without looking like she’s actually looking for someone. The house is packed, and yet she can’t seem to find even a vaguely familiar face. Until she sees Bellamy, three feet in front of her, laughing animatedly with his friends, the guy who’d given her a death stare a week and a half ago among them.

She dithers for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to approach him. They aren’t exactly friends, are they? But he’s the only person here she knows besides Finn. Before she can make up her mind, Bellamy’s friend nods in her direction, and Bellamy turns around. She gives him a timid wave, and his face breaks out into a massive grin.

“Clarke!” he yells, his voice just audible above the pounding music. She propels herself towards him, and he slings his arm over her shoulder, tucking her in against his side. “This is Clarke,” he tells his friends. “Miller,” he says, pointing at the one guy she recognises. “Murphy, Emori, and Atom.”

Miller nods, and the other three kind of raise their drinks in acknowledgement.

“Hi,” Clarke says, but she’s not sure they hear her. It doesn’t matter. Bellamy’s lips are against her ear, and his arm is wrapped tightly around her like she belongs to him. Her skin is on fire, her head rushing, though she’s completely sober.

“Where’s your drink?” Bellamy slurs, and Clarke realises how drunk he is. He probably doesn’t mean to be so affectionate with her.

“Finn was supposed to be getting them,” she says, glancing over her shoulder to see if he’s appeared again. They aren’t officially “exclusive” but she doesn’t think he’d be happy if he saw her with another man’s arm around her shoulders at a party he brought her to.

“Finn,” Bellamy repeats. “Boyfriend?”

“I guess kind of,” Clarke says.

“How’d the blowjob go?”

Clarke remembers she’s annoyed at him for giving her bad advice. Also, she doesn’t exactly want to talk about that here. She glances at his friends but they aren’t paying any attention to her.

“Your advice was bad,” she says. “But I managed to work it out on my own.”

“You’re not vying for a refund, are you?”

“Maybe I just want a make up session,” she quips, enjoying the way his eyes light up at her words.

“That can be arranged,” he growls. His arm is abruptly wrenched from around her shoulders.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Finn says. Clarke and Bellamy both turn to see his scowling face. “That’s my girl.”

Clarke recoils at his words. She hadn’t realised until this very moment how much she absolutely does not want to be his girl.

“Is she?” is all Bellamy says, all smug, like he knows something Finn doesn’t. Clarke gives him a warning look. She grabs Finn’s arm before he can start a fight.

“Come on, Finn,” she says. “Let’s just go.” She wonders if she imagines the flicker of disappointment that crosses Bellamy’s face. She wants to tell him she still wants that make up session. Wants to tell him she didn’t enjoy sucking Finn’s cock half as much as she’d enjoyed sucking his. But she doesn’t want to make a scene, so she leads Finn away, back to her dorm, where she’s sure he’s expecting to get laid.

He grabs for her as soon as the door is shut behind them.

“Wait, Finn,” she says, stopping him. His arms drop.

“What?”

“I don’t want to do this.”

He huffs. “Come on,” he says. “You promised. How long are you going to make me wait?”

“Um. Forever.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t want to see you anymore.”

He looks stunned for a moment. Then he’s just annoyed.

He gives an angry snort. “Thanks for wasting my time,” he snaps. Then adds, under his breath, “Fucking bitch.”

Any guilt Clarke may have felt for leading him on instantly dissipates. She knows she’s made the right decision.

“Get lost, Finn,” she says. “Raven was right about you.”

He goes, though he gives her a snarling glare as he leaves, and he slams the door behind him. Clarke breathes a sigh of relief, a weight lifted off her shoulders that she hadn’t even realised she’d been carrying.

 

-

 

Clarke waits until the next evening to go and see Bellamy, in case he’s nursing a hangover from the previous night. She’s nervous, more so than the last time she came to see him, but less than the first time.

His door is shut, but she’s here now, and if she turns around, she might not work up the courage to come back. So she knocks.

He opens the door a few moments later, his hair a little dishevelled, but other than that he bears no sign that he’d been drinking the previous night.

“Clarke,” he says, his surprise evident. “What are you doing here?”

She bites her lip. “I believe you owe me a make up session?”

He considers her for a moment. “What are we talking here? You want me to teach you how to please that Finn guy? Because I’m not sure I’m up for that anymore.”

“No,” Clarke says. “I ended it with him.”

Bellamy swallows. “So what do you want?”

She leans in close, on tiptoes to whispers in his ear. “I want you to take my virginity.”

In an instant, she’s in his room, up against his door, his body moulded to hers. He kisses her, steals her breath away, makes her heart race and her skin tingle. His tongue caresses hers, his hands explore her body. He picks her up off the ground and carries her to his bed like she weighs nothing at all, and drops her gently, splayed beneath him.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I first saw you,” he admits, his mouth coming down on her neck.

“Me too,” Clarke breathes. His fingers dance up her thigh until he reaches the apex, where he presses hard with his thumb, and Clarke grinds against it intuitively. He pops the button on her jeans, and she sits up to help him tear them off. He tugs his shirt over his head, and Clarke follows his lead, leaving her in just her underwear.

Situations like this have always left her feeling anxious before, overthinking it, unsure if she’s ready, or if it’s the right person. Now though, all she feels is desperate. Desperate for his cock inside her, his skin on hers. He removes his jeans, and with her permission, her bra, and then he’s kissing her again, all over, wherever he can reach. Each kiss leaves an invisible mark on her skin, the pressure of his lips still present long after he’s moved on. Her nipples strain towards him, hard against his chest.

His cock presses against her aching cunt through their underwear, rolling against her, her arousal leaking through her panties now. He reaches over her and fumbles around in the drawer above her head until he retrieves a condom. Clarke’s pussy clenches in anticipation.

She rids herself of her panties under Bellamy’s hungry gaze, and then she’s naked for him, open and wet and wanting. He sheds his boxers, and rips the condom wrapper open with his teeth. He rolls it onto his cock with ease, and then he’s positioned at her entrance, about to take her virginity.

It should feel like some momentous occasion, shouldn’t it? But to Clarke it just feels right. He locks eyes with her, and she nods. Can he see the desperation in her eyes? He sheaths himself inside her, her arousal making it almost easy. Clarke throws back her head in pleasure. It’s a pleasure to be filled by him.

“Yes,” she moans. “Fuck me. Fuck me.”

He obliges. Slow at first, so gentle with her. Then falling into a steady rhythm, rocking the cheap university bedframe. It feels so good, Clarke thinks she might be losing her mind. She feels herself edging towards orgasm, every stroke of his cock, every brush of his skin, every sound from his mouth brings her closer, until she’s there, right there, and then she’s tumbling over the edge, unable to keep a strangled moan from escaping her mouth as she comes.

“Fuck, Clarke,” Bellamy groans, listening to her moan. A moment later, he shudders against her, riding out his own orgasm while Clarke slowly comes down from hers.

He grunts dramatically as he collapses beside her. “You’re a fast learner,” he says gruffly, chest heaving.

“You’re a good teacher,” Clarke breathes.

He laughs. “Thought you said I gave you bad advice?”

“Maybe you gave me bad advice on purpose?” Clarke says hopefully. “So I’d have to come back?”

He glances at her. “No,” he says, and Clarke tries not to be disappointed. “Though if I’d thought of it, I would have. I’m just lucky Finn clearly doesn’t understand what a good thing he had.”

Clarke laughs, blushing. “So, um, do I have to keep paying you, or can we you know—”

“Date?”

Clarke snaps her mouth closed, speechless. She’d been going to suggest a friends with benefits type situation. Not that she doesn’t want to date him. She just didn’t think he’d want to, what with his side business and all.

“What about—pen island?”

Bellamy laughs, and the sound fills her stomach with butterflies. “Did you know pen island is an actual pen company? I was devastated when I found out. I was going to use it for my pen business.”

“Your pen business?”

“I thought about what you said. I’m going to try selling the pens for real. Give up sexual favours. It was getting kind of old anyway.”

“So—you and me?”

“Yeah, if you want me. I’m going to be very embarrassed if you don’t.”

“I do,” Clarke says quickly. “I definitely, definitely do.”

He laughs and he kisses her, and Clarke thinks, for all her efforts to be completely prepared for everything, she never prepared herself for him. And perhaps it’s not such a bad thing to be unprepared sometimes anyway.