The slightly ticklish sensation of velvety caresses dulled all else in Lexa’s mind as her tongue slid wetly against Clarke’s. Lexa felt as though her presence commanded each of her faculties and she was powerless to resist the slowly churning warmth that spread from her lips to engulf her body. All of her senses were consumed by Clarke and Lexa felt her very being come apart and rearrange around the sensations she never knew existed. She could feel the expanse of her skin, hidden under the dense material of her nightgown, a maddening contrast to the feeling of her fingertips brushing against the soft skin of Clarke’s neck or the silky tangle of her hair. She only had ears for their gentle sighs, the ability to determine whose lips they rose from long gone, merely drinking down the sensation that came with it. Clarke’s mouth tasted faintly of spices and the way she occasionally pulled her bottom lip between hers left Lexa squeaking out a moan, a thrill travelling down her spine to stoke the fire that gradually built low in her stomach.
The very idea of opening her eyes appeared like an arduous task she was entirely resolved against. With her vision incapacitated Lexa felt the darkness that surrounded her throb with life and for a moment she was not sure if it wasn’t Clarke’s presence dissolved into the air to merge with her completely. The gush of air she drank from Clarke’s lips filled her lungs and Lexa felt nought but the desire to be closer and closer still. Her senses slowly overwhelmed and Lexa was torn between the agony of feeling too much and not enough at the same time.
“Clarke…” Lexa groaned against her captor, her lips convulsing helplessly around the name before melting into another kiss.
Clarke could only moan in response, her ability to form words paralysed by the compelling urge to drink down all that Lexa so willingly offered. Her body shuddered in response to the small whimper that left Lexa’s mouth and her teeth involuntarily closed around the impossibly plump lip still between hers.
It was a gentle bite but the sharp shock it sent down Lexa’s spine forced her entire body to spasm and she cried out in surprise rather than pain. Their lips sprang apart and eyes bore into one another’s, taking in the effect of their explorations for the first time.
“Lex…I…” Clarke struggled to formulate words, her tongue so nimble a moment ago felt as if made of stone, barely managing to curve around the consonants of Lexa’s name, let alone voice the regret that swelled in her chest, thinking she might have hurt her friend.
Lexa saw a swirl of unnecessary and unwelcome emotions surface in Clarke’s eyes and felt compelled to dissolve them. “You didn’t hurt me.” She guessed accurately what conclusion Clarke may have drawn. “It was…a pleasant shock.” She admitted shyly, her cheeks colouring at how obscene it felt to voice that particular thought.
Still at a loss for words but her nerves soothed by Lexa’s reassurances Clarke smiled up at her warmly, basking in the residual glow of feelings. She felt something akin to pride swell in her chest as she glanced at Lexa’s lips, its redder hue and additional plumpness no doubt the result of their kissing.
As Lexa moved to curl more comfortably on the settee her thighs rubbed together and she felt the embarrassing flow of moisture spread across her skin. She flushed with shame and suddenly she shied away from Clarke, the worry that her body was behaving unnaturally souring her mood. Not wanting her misfunctioning body or anxious thoughts to ruin the pleasant mood she forced a smile on her face and extended her hand to Clarke as she stood.
Clarke’s keen eyes observed the momentary lapse and silently wondered at the source of Lexa’s confusion and subsequent shyness but resolved not to pry unless she deemed Lexa to be in much discomfort. She hoped Lexa would come to her of her own accord.
Clarke sat restlessly on the edge of the bed as her eyes followed Lexa’s movements. Lexa had pulled her towards the bed, suggesting that they might get more comfortable and ready for the night with a smile but when Clarke pulled the covers away Lexa all but fled the side of the bed, hastily telling her with a tight smile that she might as well extinguish the lights before so she wouldn’t have to get out from the warmth of the sheets again.
Clarke wondered if she had done something to upset Lexa. She had never seemed quite so distant before. She moved around with the ease of routine, lowering the wicks in what seemed to be a series of those modern paraffin lamps lining the walls. As the lights dimmed with each extinguished lamp Clarke lost the view of Lexa’s face which was now shrouded in shadows. The ominously growing dark only served to accentuate the sudden gulf Clarke felt between herself and Lexa.
When all the light that remained were the two candles on the mantelpiece above the unlit fireplace Clarke moved farther up on the bed, resting her back against the far side of the headboard to give Lexa some space. She watched as her friend picked up a small brass candle snuffer to extinguish one of the candles. Her hand stilled just for a moment, suspended in air before she grabbed the curved handle of the candle holder and slowly made her way towards the bed. To Clarke’s frustration Lexa held the small stump of a candle low, just above her waist which did not provide much light, and her face remained partially covered in shadows.
The deafening silence that accompanied her nightly routine did nothing to soothe Lexa’s nerves as she attempted to collect her wits about her. She stalled the moment when Clarke would ask if she was alright, knowing that facing the question was inevitable. On most occasions Clarke’s considerate and dependable nature warmed her heart but her sense of shame over her body’s inexplicable behaviour made her wish Clarke would fail to be considerate just the one time.
Vaguely remembering the guiltily whispered admissions of the housemaid she had interrogated after spying on them in the hayloft when she was a small child, Lexa’s deepest fear was that her responses were shamefully inappropriate. ‘Clarke is so innocent…to her this just another friendly gesture of her love for me…the poor soul doesn’t know how my depravity turns into something entirely else.’ Lexa often thought at night as she remembered their kisses and caresses. ‘Good Lord above, her hands kneading my shoulders…’ She was only too happy to believe Clarke when she reassured her of the innocence of their actions, her cheerful and earnest presence keeping her doubts at bay, only for them to return with a vengeance when she and Clarke parted ways.
Each time Clarke touched her she willed her body to respond as it should, or rather not to respond at all if possible, not finding it in herself to deprive either of them of these small gestures of affection. When it was but small touches she found she could fight this demon but each time Clarke’s lips descended on hers her will proved to be a slave to her feelings rather than the opposite. She hoped that if Clarke were to keep her company afterward her light of innocence would embrace her and protect her from the dark shadows of doubt but to her dismay her body had betrayed her more fiendishly than it ever had.
She set down the candle holder gingerly, paying much closer attention to not making a noise than she normally would have in a last effort to stall the inevitable moment when their eyes would again connect. Lexa climbed into bed and busied herself for a few moments more, pulling the covers up to her neck. A surge of bravery inspired her for just a moment and she turned on her side to face Clarke, whose solemn features were illuminated by the light of the candle.
Clarke watched anxiously as Lexa settled next to her, no doubt in her mind that she had ruined something between them, inadvertently made Lexa feel awkward, the lack of eye contact or words shared between them being her prime evidence. Yet her heart missed a beat and hope surged within her when Lexa turned to face towards her rather than away from her. She could see the uncharacteristic timidity in her features, even as the majority of her face was shrouded in darkness, as though she was surrendering herself.
“What is this shadow over your brow, my dear?” Clarke asked as she settled beside her chancing a small gesture of affection in the form of gently caressing Lexa’s brow and cheek with the back of her fingers.
“Candle light?” Lexa squeaked in response, her sass never failing her even as her nerves were threatening to expire.
A surprised snort bubbled from Clarke’s throat, not expecting Lexa to tease her. She did not respond to the attempt at evasion but instead kept her eyes trained on Lexa hoping that the love and encouragement she wished to convey shined in her eyes as much as she thought. Now that contact between them had been re-established and to her relief Lexa did not flinch away from her touch Clarke could not find it in herself to desist. Her fingers traced random patterns across her cheek, occasionally tangling in wisps of hair behind her ear.
“I am…worried.” Lexa admitted, her voice barely audible. Feeling the need to be reassured she moved closer, her eyes seeking permission. She needed only wait but a second for Clarke to invite her into her embrace and Lexa immediately moved in to bury her face in the crook of Clarke’s neck, her scent warm and reassuring.
“Worried about what, dearest?” Clarke asked to clarify, the gall of dread pooling in her stomach. Lexa’s response was so long a coming that Clarke slowly began convincing herself that perhaps her friend was not yet ready to discuss her feelings and she resolved to offer what little comfort she could rather than agitate her further by forcing the matter.
“I am…worried that I am… corrupting…tainting our friendship and you shall soon learn to hate me for it.” Lexa whispered.
Clarke’s ears rang with the absurdity of the notion and she pulled slightly back, her finger hooking under Lexa’s chin to make her look her in the eye.
“Lex… I don’t even have words for that. Why would you think that? How could I ever hate you?” Clarke stressed the question, befuddled beyond words.
“Clarke, when you kiss me…or touch me…” Lexa began, soldiering on even as shame constricted her throat, threatening to suffocate her. “I always feel… when I was a child I saw a maid and a footman in passion… I interrogated the girl…I only have vague memories but she told me of this wetness between her legs…I feel that too.” The words spilled from Lexa’s lips unchecked, the need to come clean of the matter overpowering her sense of dead. “But isn’t it beastly and abnormal? You are a woman too! And now you shall hate me for it…” Lexa’s voice broke with emotion on the last few words.
“I will not!” Clarke responded hotly, astonished by the very notion, her heart breaking for the wonderful creature lying next to her prostrate with such absurd fears. “And if I were to tell you that I feel the same thing… would you be inclined to think I was the one corrupting you with my touches?” Clarke asked gently.
Lexa moved her head back further, her gaze searching Clarke’s open features. “Have you felt it before?”
“No…” Clarke said, meaning to elaborate but was cut off immediately.
“See!” Lexa exclaimed with dismay and pulled herself into a sitting position. “I was the one who was subjected to this at a tender age…my God, I was the one who first kissed you. I am corrupting…” the words of anguish that spilled from Lexa’s lips were cut short by a gentle finger on her lips.
“No you are not. And even if you are I shall be happily damned!” Clarke swore fervently and in a frenzy of hope and anxiety she crashed their lips together in a kiss heated by the need to touch and claim.
It was unlike any of the kisses they shared before, a whirlwind of hunger from the moment their lips touched rather than the slow questing of lips gradually building into a frenzy. Lexa whimpered half in desperation half in relief, relishing the way Clarke almost demanded that she yield to her. She let herself fall back against the pillows, pulling Clarke with her. Her breath hitched as she felt Clarke’s weight press her deeper into the mattress and the pooling heat low in her belly surged with renewed vigour.
When Clarke’s lungs burned for a breath of air she tore her mouth from Lexa’s, peppering her jawline with kisses, willing her breathing under control. “If this is corruption I feel a renewed sympathy for Eve.” She whispered, her lips brushing against the shell of Lexa’s ear. “If the forbidden fruit tasted of your kisses I should be powerless to resist.”
“Clarke…what blasphemies you speak…” Lexa whispered just as breathlessly.
“True ones.” Clarke replied with a chuckle as she pulled back to look into Lexa’s eyes, resting some of her weight on an elbow next to her. “Even if I were an angel, which I am certainly not, I would happily fall for you.”
Despite the ridiculousness of Clarke’s words Lexa felt her heart skip a beat. There was so much sincerity behind blue eyes staring back at her that Lexa could not help but believe her for a moment. As an unfamiliar mixture of emotions overwhelmed her she moved to press another gentle kiss on Clarke’s lips.
As Clarke moved into the kiss, shifting her weight to find a compromise between comfort and not crushing the woman beneath her, her thigh slipped between Lexa’s who groaned into her mouth at the unexpected contact. Her hips moved involuntarily and soon Clarke found herself matching the rhythm, her senses focused entirely on Lexa’s reactions. Clarke recognized the now familiar frenzied movements she herself experienced the day before, wondering if Lexa was close to that breaking point where all the frustrations turned into the most exquisite pleasure she had ever felt. Her own breath grew ragged with her movements and she pressed her forehead against Lexa’s cheek, hand gripped at the sheets in an effort to ground herself. The small of her back began to ache with her unusual movements as she put excessive pressure on her lower muscles to maintain their motions.
Lexa was not prepared for the spike of pleasure that forced the air from her lungs and as her breath hitched she stilled her movements, her hands flying to Clarke’s hips.
Clarke’s eyes snapped open and her gaze locked on Lexa’s. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing…just...too much feeling. I… wasn’t ready.” Lexa murmured, a bout of shyness and embarrassment washing over her.
Clarke instinctively understood as she watched Lexa close her eyes and turn her head to hide her face in her shoulder. She moved to press a gentle kiss on the crown of Lexa’s head. “It’s alright. Nothing to feel embarrassed about.”
They stayed silent for a while. Clarke stretched out on her side next to her, an arm softly draped over Lexa’s stomach. She wondered if Lexa had fallen asleep and was about to move to extinguish the last source of light when Lexa’s whisper stilled her movements.
“Did I just… give myself to you? Or almost…”
Clarke remained motionless as she thought about the implications of the question. She had always been squeamish about the subject, for the most part due to her French tutor’s persistent shyness on the subject. While he had been willing to teach her the general anatomy of the human body he resolutely refused to explain what little was known of conception. At Girton she had been woefully forced to read up on the subject but she only did so half heartedly. The little she had retained, however, was that the apparent authorities on the subject agreed that members of the opposite sex were always involved.
“I am…not sure? I had never relished the notion of studying the subject. But… neither of us are men. I do not think it is even possible this way?” Clarke offered. She was surprised when Lexa turned her head to blow out the candle before shifting in bed, their legs tangling as Lexa pushed her on her back.