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Summary
Lexa Woods meets art student Clarke Griffin in a club one night, who asks her to model for a painting. Clarke comes on strong and Lexa is intrigued, quickly becoming infatuated herself, but will it be enough to let her guard down and start her journey to self-acceptance?
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“Who decides when you get fucked?"
"You do."
"And who decides when you get to come?"
"...you do."
Unadulterated Clexa filth.
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True to her word, Clarke accepts everything Lexa has. All the violence, all the pain, all the frustration. She takes it all and more, and turns it into howls of pleasure that echo around their bedroom. Lexa is in awe of this woman, this goddess, who can take her rage and transform it into something beautiful. Something good. Something as perfect as she is.
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“The locals aren’t fans of college kids. This is their neighborhood bar. They can get…territorial.”
Clarke studies the girl who stopped the fight before it began. Leaning back in her chair in the back of the bar, she's all dark hair and dark eyeliner and dark alcohol. Clarke can see what he’s saying: the glare etched into her face is a clear warning for anyone who might step forward to her.
But the vodka has thinned Clarke’s blood; she’s always been brazen and right now she can’t take that warning as anything less than a challenge.
She grabs Octavia’s wrist and pulls her forward. “C’mon.”
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7/4/2017: Complete!
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Lexa will never admit it, but Clarke makes her weak. Her blue eyes, her laugh, her stubborn nature. But what really makes Lexa weak, is when Clarke gets on her knees. Yup, shameless smut.