rivertalesien:

[A little Clexa ficlet Inspired by the photo from this post and because @warrior1955 asked]

^^^

“Clarke! The water is too cold!”

The Commander watched as the determined blonde smiled at her then waded further into the icy waters and the young leader felt herself overcome with a longing even the coldest winter could not suppress.

Moving as a woman possessed, she surged forward into the water, her boots weighing her down step by step, until she reached her goal, until she had wrapped the naked woman in her arms and hoisted her high above, spinning like a drunken top with the overwhelming joy of her love.

Arms outstretched, Clarke laughed until the sting of the cold air pricked her skin, until she felt dizzy enough to faint, delirious and happy.  She looked down at the shining green eyes fixed on her with complete devotion.

“Get me out of here, babe. My tits are gonna freeze off.”  

^^^

The cabin had taken her (and three of her most trusted guards) almost six months to complete; it sat on a small wooded slope above the lake, just a short walk to the water’s edge. Wood and stone well-blended to fit in with the surroundings, yet with a touch of something rare: all the windows were paned with thick glass, including the tallest, overlooking the lake. This was the view from Clarke’s room, her own getaway to draw and paint or simply take ease from the hardships of their lives.

It was completed just before the wedding.

The Commander kept her gift a secret until the morning after the ceremony, when she and Clarke set out on what, Clarke was assured, would be a short trip to Lexa’s old home where they could be alone for a few days. Clarke’s only objection was the growing cold, that snow could not be long off, but she wasn’t about to turn down the chance to have Lexa all to herself on what amounted to their honeymoon.

The ride on horseback was thankfully uneventful, but bracing, only three hours from the capitol and Clarke was right, the snow was not long off, in fact it fell in fits and starts as they approached the lake and their guards fell back, leaving them to journey to their destination alone.  

“I can’t believe they’re not following us.”

“They aren’t far behind and the scouts have already cleared the way. This area isn’t traveled much, either, due to the mountain pass separating us from the rest of the clans.”  

“Well that’s convenient. You didn’t tell me you lived near a lake.”

“I have never lived near a lake, Clarke.”

At Clarke’s confusion, Lexa smiled and brought their horses to a stop, her head nodding forward.

Clarke’s eyes caught the glint of waning afternoon sunlight on the glass and she turned to her wife in askance.  

“What is this place?”

“Your home…our home.”  

Clarke asked nothing further, but spurred her horse on with Lexa following silently behind.  Dismounting at the edge of a simple fence of twisted branches, Clarke approached the cabin slowly, taking in the carefully placed logs and stones, the tall chimney, the smooth walking path leading to a small garden-like space with a low bench.  Lexa moved quietly behind her, opening the front door.

“Would you like to see inside?”

A smile was threatening the corners of Clarke’s mouth and her eyes were wet with unshed tears.  

A home. A real home.

As she reached the front door, Lexa blocked her way.

“There is an old tradition I read of once, done by newly-joined couples for good luck, I believe?”

Clarke’s brow furrowed as Lexa reached for her, picking her up from the waist and legs, and carried her into the cabin.  

Reluctant to put her down again, Lexa walked her around the first room, a large space with stuffed couches covered in thin pelts a low table and a shelf filled with books.  A large fireplace was already ablaze.  New candles were set and lit.

As she moved further in, Clarke discerned a small kitchen with a wood stove and a roomy dining area with a round table and chairs.  

Lexa set her down then and let Clarke complete the inspection herself, watching from a small distance as her wife went from room to room.

The first bedroom held only a large bed covered in furs and pillows; not as ornate as Lexa’s bed in Polis, but it looked just as comfortable.

“Our room, I take it?”

Lexa blushed, lowering her eyes at Clarke’s suggestive tone.  

“And this one?”

A second room held nothing at all, but a small desk and chair in one corner.

“I may do work here from time to time.”

“This would be a nice nursery, Lex.”

Lexa looked confused for a moment as Clarke’s meaning slowly dawned on her.

“You…you would like to have children? A child? With me?”

Clarke smiled and shrugged, moving on to another room, leaving Lexa a little breathless.

“This…this is too much, Lex.”

Lexa followed into the artist space she had made, filled with easels, a desk covered with paints and brushes and all sorts of paper.

And the light.

The light was everywhere.

And the view.

Arms circled her from behind.

“Nothing for you is too much. This is what you love, Clarke. I want you to be happy.”  

Turning in her wife’s embrace, Clarke returned it, full and hard, kissing every part of Lexa’s shining face, before pushing away and turning back to the front room and out the door.  

Lexa followed, careful not to upset Clarke’s balance; she could tell when her love was feeling too much and didn’t know what to do with it all. She knew there were moments and would be more, still, when she would not be enough, when nothing in the world would be enough to keep Clarke completely grounded, completely satisfied and content.  

She saw the frantic expression in Clarke’s face, how her cheeks tinged with pink in the frosty air beneath the snow-capped mountains.  She didn’t know what to do with herself. She might do anything.

Lexa did not expect Clarke to suddenly remove all her clothes.

The Commander felt a needy distraction as Clarke’s coat and shirt went first, followed by her bra, then her pants and boots followed, tossed carelessly aside in the sand and dirt.

Clarke’s eyes were fixed on the lake and she ran to it, stopping only when her toes hit the cold water, but she went on anyway, slowing wading in up to her knees, then higher, shivering but exalted in the cold embrace of the late autumn day.

We were married in a garden, and my mother cried and Lexa kissed me in front of everyone and I wanted to cry wanted my father and Wells and even Finn to please forgive me now please be happy for me please let me be happy

She could go no further, the water lapping delicately at her thighs, as she closed her eyes and raised her face to the last of the afternoon light, her heart so full she could hardly think; and then there were arms and she felt herself rise and whirl like a leaf on the wind and there was Lexa, eyes bright and damp, staring up at her in complete and unwavering love and she felt, for the first time, like all the songs she’d ever heard about spring.  

^^^

The fire was blazing strong and the furs beneath her were almost dry from her dampened skin, while the body above her was a blissful mix of contradictions: hot, eager, soft, gentle, passionate, completely and ravishingly pleasing.

Lexa’s body pressed against her, between her thighs, her mouth everywhere, lips sweet against her temple, across her eyes, along her cheeks, under her chin, moving desperately around her neck, her love utterly unconstrained, covering every inch of Clarke’s body as if she were a canvas and Lexa a painter’s brush, stroking and swirling, leaving nothing but the shape of light on her skin.  

Plump lips dragging across the fullness of her breasts (Lexa’s most innocent weakness), caressing them, tongue hot wet around her nipples, suckling, insatiable. Gripping the furs beneath her, Clarke’s back arches a little, pushing herself further into Lexa’s mouth, into her gentle hands. She stretches her legs wider, raising her knees and Lexa is slotted more firmly between them, held in their vice as Clarke’s core pulses and drips with need, and she thrusts up sharply, rubbing herself across taut stomach muscles, demanding release.

They say nothing; there are no words for this. Their mouths press together, a tight, tender seal as tongues tease out a new language, as clarke’s hands find purchase in Lexa’s hair, pulling and guiding, as Lexa’s hands halo Clarke’s golden curls, clasped in a semblance of prayer, though she has no other religion.

Clarke finds her rhythm now, flexing, her center hot and damp, her clit pleasingly engorged and ready, as she pulls Lexa further onto her, no hint of air trapped between them, until the first cry of sweet, throbbing release, filling Lexa’s mouth.

Clarke’s body seizes in her climax, every muscle taut and straining as she clings to her wife, shuddering, her cry long but silent, and Lexa is there, too, surprised by it, and their arms wind and faces hide in shoulders, and they can hardly breathe and they writhe in the agony of never wanting to let go, in all the barely heard I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you they cannot be without.

Until the last tiny shock fades and muscles relax and Lexa’s lips are against her collarbone, offering blessings, anointing her flesh. She tenses for a moment and her eyes open as those lips trace along her abdomen, around her navel and she feels the warm breath against her curls, nuzzling there, taking in her scent before Lexa’s mouth is covering her, so hot, her tongue thick and heavy as it drags smooth and wet over and over her lips and her clit, harder, slower, faster, sweeter.

Until Clarke is incoherent with pleasure, and love, so much love, once again.

And again.

And again.

And again.