Lost Love Found [ #Wattys2015 ] {Bellarke}

The Unexpected

Bellamy's POV

After several long hours of pacing absentmindedly, of worrying incessantly, of agonizing over wild and unreasonable thoughts - Bellamy practically knocked Clarke over when she finally returned to the tent.

He thought he had lost her again.

Bellamy engulfed her, pulling Clarke against his chest and holding her without any intention of ever letting go. He heard her gasp, light and breathy. It was a beautiful and totally innocent exhalation of surprise. At first, she went rigid, her entire body hardening like stone - until she began to laugh uncontrollably. Her small frame, pressed to his chest, softened and shook with laughter.

Bellamy rested his chin against her hair, her curly, golden hair and said, "I thought something happened to you."

"Bell, I'm fine," Clarke replied in between hiccups of laughter, her pet name slipping seamlessly off her tongue. "You shouldn't be hugging me. You'll hurt your abdomen."

"You think I care?" He said and gripped her shoulders, holding her in front of him at arm's length. "God, Clarke, I was about to embark on a crusade."

"Don't be ridiculous." Clarke chastised, still smiling. She was looking up at him now, her face unguarded and transparent. Here stood the Clarke that he had seen in his dreams - utterly beautiful and utterly human. She was an open book now and adoration played across her face like a masterful artist had drawn her features.

He took a slow step towards her, reaching for a loose tendril of hair that had escaped from behind Clarke's ear. Bellamy noticed her head tilt back as she stared at him with curiosity, as he came closer. He ran the delicate strands of hair between his fingers, admiring the luminosity and weightlessness of it. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, he returned the tendril of hair to its rightful place.

Clarke laid a tentative hand against his chest then. However, Bellamy caught it and pressed it against his cheek. And she let him.

"Clarke," he murmured, his voice thick and soft with desire, and she leaned towards him, swaying like a tree whose branches were urged by the wind. Bellamy's whole body ached; he ached, as though there were some terrible hollowness inside of him that needed to be filled. He became aware of her, more conscious of her being, of her lovely blue eyes, of her rose colored cheeks, of the scars carved upon her collarbone - and more than anything else, he became conscious of her mouth, the fullness of her lips.

When Bellamy leaned towards her and brushed his lips across hers, she reached for him as if she would otherwise drown. Their mouths pressed hotly together and his hand became entangled in her hair. He heard Clarke gasp when he tugged her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist. It was that feathery gasp which resulted in a deep, resonating growl.

Clarke trailed her hands up his chest before she wrapped them around his neck, supposedly to drag him closer. Bellamy, in turn, let his own hands wander down her back and play with the hem of her shirt. It was only when his fingers brushed the soft skin of her lower back that Clarke gave a little cry of surprise against his mouth. And then, without warning, she ripped her hands away and pushed hard against Bellamy's shoulders, shoving him away with such force that he nearly stumbled backwards.

"Hell," Clarke whispered, touching her lips. "What was that?"

Bellamy stood, dumfounded, and stared back at her. And it looked as though tears were welling in her eyes, as if she had just lost someone she loved. She kept running her thumb along her bottom lip and her hand through her hair. Clarke's cheeks were flushed and her mannerisms unsteady. Meanwhile, Bellamy tried to control his own breathing, slow the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"I'll take a guess and say that you were excited to see me." Bellamy shrugged, attempting a persona of nonchalance while, in reality, he was anything but.

Clarke was silent, but he could still hear the raspy intake and outtake of breath. She took in a deep mouthful of air and exhaled it slowly.

"Bellamy," she began. "Do you - I mean, Lexa said -"

There was movement outside the tent and, suddenly, it was as if the Grounder camp had come alive. Horses were whinnying, Grounders were shouting and carts rattled along the dirt road. All sorts of loud noises drifted in through the tent. People were shouting orders and hefting weapons back and forth, a symphony of wood and steel. How could they have not heard this before? How long had they been kissing?

The tent flap opened and Indra stepped inside. "The horses are saddled and readied. We leave now." She said gruffly and as quickly as she appeared, she disappeared.

"Clarke?" Bellamy prodded when the woman left and took a step towards her. Clarke visibly tensed at the sound of his voice.

"Never mind. Forget it," she snapped. "Let's go."

She was about to turn her back on him when he reached out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. "Hey," he murmured, lightly touching her cheek. "You don't have to run. Please, Clarke, don't shut me out again."

The desperation in his voice must have made her pause because her eyes immediately softened. She laid a gentle hand on his upper arm, staring at him directly. "I just, I just need time that's all. I - I ... not now."

He watched as Clarke's eyes drifted away and as she gnawed on her lower lip. And Bellamy nodded because he respected her more than anyone else on this planet. He would lay down his life for Clarke Griffin and, more importantly, he had made a silent resolution to never leave her, to stay by her side. They were leaders, partners, and that meant they shared the deepest sort of loyalty. It was a loyalty forged by hardship and compromise, by frustration and love.

She would forever hold a special place in his heart; in a cavernous alcove that he never knew existed.

It was at this moment that Clarke reached out and briefly hugged him. One moment she was around him and the next, she wasn't. When she pulled away, her entire demeanor had changed and she smiled up at Bellamy.

"Have you ever ridden a horse before?" She asked.

Bellamy snorted, indignant.

"You know that I prefer to keep both of my feet on the ground." he replied in a joking, yet utterly serious manner.

"Oh, come on," Clarke teased. "I'm sure they'll give you a little mule. You have nothing to worry about."

"And by mule you mean ass?"

"I couldn't think of a better match." Clarke said, attempting to remain humorless and failing abominably.

Bellamy playfully lunged for her, but Clarke managed to dodge him and stumbled outside the tent, laughing hysterically. He followed her moments later, glowering. And when he pushed open the tent flap, he saw that she was already striding towards the wagons and horses. He crossed his arms and watched her go, so confident and sure of herself in the face of adversary, even when Grounders were spitting out rude comments.

He let out a deep sigh and followed her into the unseen. All Bellamy knew was that they were headed into enemy territory, Grounder territory. He would be lying to himself if he said they weren't walking straight into the lions' den.