Part 2

It's been two weeks since their second meeting. It went well. Incredibly well, and they both feel like they are five years old again and having their first crush on the new girl.

They have yet to find another moment to themselves. All they've done is trade small salutations while being separated by hundreds of lethal volts between them. It still makes their chest hurt anxiously from the need to be together. It's too much, but it's not enough at the same time.

It's driving Clarke crazy, and the increasing amount of cases she is responsible for makes her want to pull her hair one by one instead. When she slams her apartment's door for the third time this week, she knows she needs to change something if she doesn't want to lose herself in a maze of negativity.

She dislikes her life. She needs to move out, drive to a new city, get a new job or pursue the dreams she once had when she was a kid. She needs to stop being stuck into a world she doesn't like. She needs to stop coming home tired and leaving the next morning even more exhausted. She feels like she has lived a thousand years and she hasn't found happiness yet. She wants to get away. She needs courage to do all those things and she can't find it anymore.

Every choice she thinks about seems to lead to a dead end. A temporary solution that won't last.

She dives into the best defense mechanisms she knows: humour and denial.

She makes a quick dinner while Netflix is playing in the background, providing her enough noise to help her forget she has been alone ever since she moved out of the family house. It's a comedy and it distracts her from her own problems. She eats quickly when she realizes how starved she is from a day full of surgeries and promises herself never to wait that long again. She makes that promise nearly every week and she has yet to find a solution.

She eats too much and takes a quick shower that doesn't make her feel clean. She can almost see the blood still tainting her clothes and hands. She can almost hear it dripping to the floor. She can almost smell it as it coagulates around her.

She jumps into bed and reflects on her day, the way she always does even if she should let it all go. She had three losses today. Two kids from a car accident and one woman from a surgery that shouldn't have happened. She didn't cry and she won't. She knows she won't, even though the rock in her stomach is still there. These deaths could've been avoided had she not rushed them in the OR. They didn't have enough strength to survive the operation, and she missed that crucial point. She's a soldier fighting death, but she never seems to win the war.

She can't handle the pressure anymore.

She's almost asleep when her phone rings.

She braces herself for a late-night emergency that she probably won't want to deal with, but sees an unknown number instead. She almost doesn't answer, but the tiniest curious part of her convinces her.

"Hello?" Clarke asks, masking the fatigue from her voice.

No one talks and the blonde wonders if she is hallucinating or worse, having a lucid dream that will only show her the worse parts of her.

"Is anyone there?"

She hears a muffled movement in the background and waits. There is someone on the other end of the line. It takes many seconds before she finally gets a sign of life, long enough to wonder if this is a late prank call.

"I woke you up," a voice whispers. "I'm so sorry."

A quick glance to her phone informs Clarke that it is past one in the morning.

Still, she jolts awake and the soreness of her body is gone.

"I was wondering when you would call," Clarke says with a teasing voice.

"I was nervous," Lexa admits.

"What happened to the three days rule?" Clarke laughs.

The answer doesn't come and Clarke is afraid she scared the woman away.

"I'm kidding, Lexa."

Lexa softly gasps. It's the first time she hears Clarke pronounce her name and it feels like she is born again. In the emptiness of her room, on the other side of the town, in a complete different district, Lexa hopes she can hear her name again. She wants Clarke to say it, to pronounce it like it is the first time every time, to scream it when she is searching for her in a crowd, to moan it when they are melting into one another.

"Am I bothering you?" Lexa asks.

"Never," Clarke chuckles.

In the moonlight, a smile illuminates Lexa's room brighter than the most brilliant stars in the sky.

"What are you up to?" The blonde's voice chirps.

Lexa thinks about her answer for longer than she wants to. How does she admit to a person she's barely talked to that she only calls because she misses her voice and her presence? How does she explain that the loneliness is too much for her and that the only way to break it is to call Clarke? How does she share her vulnerability without making a fool of herself? How does she start a conversation interesting enough so that Clarke won't choose sleep over her?

How does she tell Clarke that she cares immensely about her without this confession being too much too soon?

"I wanted to hear your voice," she declares cautiously.

It's small but it's everything.

Clarke's breath hitches and she is stunned by the way happiness charges her body. She feels the same. She wants to hear Lexa's voice just as much, but she didn't have her number yet. She had been hoping for that call for so long that it seems unreal and she wonders if she is dreaming. She wonders how it is that a simple sentence can teleport her to cloud nine within seconds.

"It's been a while since we talked. Are you ready to admit my book is better?" Lexa continues.

"Never?!" Clarke scoffs while muffling a laugh and welcoming the light atmosphere.

"Come on, Clarke, just say the word and make a woman happy?"

The blonde almost falls of her bed at the way her name is pronounced, so clear that each letter might as well be made of crystal. It rings in her ears and vibrates in her mind until the very last sound disappears. She misses it already. She adores the way Lexa says it, like her name is synonym of power and softness. Her entire self exists on this planet again.

"I love my book," Clarke mutters.

"I love mine more."

"I love mine the most."

"I love mine more than the most!" Lexa retorts with a confidence Clarke can only be electrified by.

"Is it a contest?"

"One I'm clearly winning."

Lexa smirks even though Clarke can't see her, but she knows they both can guess her facial expression right now. She's lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling with her phone pressed to her ear and it almost feels like Clarke is next to her. She pays attention to every stimulus she hears from the other side and somehow, it doesn't feel like they are so far anymore. She can hear the way Clarke inhales and exhales, the way the wind blows on the other side and the way the clock counts every second. It feels more intimate than any other interaction she's ever had with a woman before. It feels real. It feels honest, pure.

For the first time, this empty bedroom feels like a true home, just because of Clarke.

"Alright, your highness, what do you win?" Clarke proposes with a teasing voice.

"I prefer Commander."

"Is this conversation going to a weird fetish kink because…"

"Clarke!"

The blonde's boldness impresses Lexa, but it also makes her how far they can travel on that route. The lawyer still gets a flashing image of the other woman arching her back under her touch and begging her to be taken, and suddenly, her sheets are made of fire and she is sweating.

"Commander Lexa, what prize would you like to claim?"

The voice is hoarse and it makes Lexa stumble. There are about a hundred things Lexa wants right now, most of them involving Clarke in her bed, their lips pressed together, their naked bodies colliding in a sensual dance, their instincts throwing every sense of control away. She wonders what Clarke's voice would sound like if she was panting her name and breathing hard in her ears. She wonders how soft her skin is and how it would taste if she licked it.

And on the other side of the town, Clarke's body is trembling under the weight of arousal.

"You," Lexa swallows the desire away.

She wants Clarke. She's only realizing how much right now.

But she doesn't want her body only, even though she can only imagine how mind-blowing it would feel.

She wants Clarke. Everything about her. Everything Clarke knows about herself, and every little detail she will discover through the future years.

They've only met, but Lexa has never been surer of something before. She would plead guilty for having the biggest crush on the other woman within seconds.

"I want to take you out on a date," Lexa clarifies.

Clarke lives in those words. Her answer explodes in her mind. It's loud and clear and obvious.

"I would love to."

Lexa thinks this might be the beginning of the best part of her life.

"If you admit my book is better…"

Lexa shakes her head in disbelief but her giggles give her away.

"But then I would lose the contest and there would be no prize anymore."

"Why must you be right?" Clarke sighs. "I would be happy to go on a date with you."

"When are you free?"

Clarke feels her luck turns the other way. She has no free time at all. She has work stamped all over her agenda for the next two weeks, and after that, she'll probably have new stamps for the next days. She has extra hours piling up on her in a way that should be illegal. She can't control when people get hurt and she certainly can't tell death to wait for her to have a date with a beautiful girl. Her ribcage is crushing her heart little by little as her annoyance increases.

"It's okay, Clarke. We can schedule something later if you'd prefer?"

"It's not that… it's that, even later, I don't know when I will have a moment off."

But Clarke doesn't want "later" or "eventually" or "the next week." She wants now. Later is too late. It's too much time wasted.

"Being an adult is fun, isn't it?"

Something about the way Lexa speaks to her, truthfully and authentically, makes Clarke refuse to hide anymore. She feels her armor slowly vanishing as she opens her mouth and lets herself acknowledge that she isn't okay. It doesn't feel like a terrible thing to do anymore. It feels human.

"It's hard," she whispers. "The long nights. The days spent between four walls."

Lexa nods. She knows Clarke can sense it. She can hear the ache behind this sentence.

"It's just… hard."

Clarke doesn't want to talk about the many deaths, but Lexa has a sharp mind and she guesses it.

"You work in a hospital. You work with sickness as your enemy. It is not an easy battle, Clarke."

Maybe it's the moon or the influence of the whole galaxy moving around the little blue dot, but Clarke thinks a part of her might be healed from those words. It's a tiny part, but she feels a lot better. Lexa is the courage she's always needed to face her wounds.

"You work in a difficult place. You must constantly adapt. I know how that feels. It drains your energy and you try to convince yourself you can stay for that extra hour, but you can't. You wake up wanting to go back home even though you've never left it. You go to sleep wanting to take up in a different city, a different bedroom, a different life. You want to stay but everything hints you to leave. You want to leave but you're too scared of the unknown. I know how you feel."

"That's the problem, Lexa. I don't feel. There are so many deaths. And the worst part is, I'm not even sad anymore. I feel nothing. I see a corpse and I don't see a story behind it anymore. I just see it for what it is, organs and skins glued together with fat and muscles. I've become what I don't want to be. Sometimes I don't recognize myself."

Lexa knows. She knows that feeling too. She knows that absence of feelings too well. She wants to cry when she hears Clarke's broken voice again.

"I don't know who I am anymore. And if I don't know, how can I expect anyone to know me? How can I expect anyone to appreciate me? I'm lost. I'm not just lost in the city, in the familiar streets and signs. I'm lost within myself. I'm… nothing anymore. Nothing I do makes me proud anymore. Nothing I think about makes sense anymore."

"Clarke…"

"Listen, please. Listen to me."

The brunette hears a cry for help. She wonders when was the last time someone sat next to Clarke to tell her everything was going to be alright. She wants to be that for Clarke. She wants to be her safety place. She wants to be her oasis.

"It feels like it's me versus everyone else. Everyone has a goal. Everyone is going somewhere. Everyone knows what they want. I don't. I thought I did, but I was wrong. I have a successful job. I have a degree from med school. I'm set for the rest of my life! And if you could see the apartment I have right now. It's beautiful. It's got a great view on the east side of the city and it's spacious and modern and everything I want. But I still come back here at night and feel that I like it a little less every day. So what's the point of going to work every morning? What's the point if the job I do takes the life out of me? What's the point if I'm not myself anymore? What's the point if I feel like I'm going nowhere else, like I'm done with this place."

"What's the point if you don't see a future here anymore…" Lexa says in a barely audible tone.

Clarke breathes hard on the phone, as if she ran a marathon just a minute ago. She feels all those unspoken words trying to reach the open air. She feels her body shakes from the load of secrets she needs to spill. She feels like she is about to implode from the overload of rants that wants to surface from her throat.

It doesn't feel good. It feels like she's going to die from everything she should have said sooner. It feels like she's suffocating and there's no air, no oxygen left for her. There's no air in her lungs and her brain is slowly shutting down. She's the last person on this planet and no one will save her when she needs it most.

"You want to save everyone, but you can't."

Somewhere from the horizon, Lexa's voice manages to bring back Clarke on this planet, in this reality.

"I wish I could, too. I wish I could tell the man who murdered his wife because he heard voices ordering him around that he is forgiven, but I can't. I wish I could tell the woman who killed her child because he was suffering from an incurable sickness that she isn't a bad person, but I can't. I wish I could tell the struggling wife that her husband didn't commit a crime that will send him to prison for twenty years without parole, but I can't. And I wish I could tell the poor man that his best friend survived the forty-three knife stabs he received, but I can't. I wish I could make it painless to the people who lose their favorite person unexpectedly, but I can't. I send people to jail. I try to bring peace to a victim. But it never works. It's never enough. Instead, I just create more victims, those who see their loved one being sent away for decades. It's impossibly hard to do this job without a shell. I know what you mean, Clarke, when you say you don't feel anything. Trust me."

"Tell me."

"There are no good guys. Not the way you imagine there are. It's like in the book. There is no solution that will make everyone appeased. It makes my job labyrinthine when it comes to finding who is to be blamed or not, who's the real victim."

There's something comforting about knowing she isn't the only one struggling, even if it means Lexa is going through hell too. Clarke mentally slaps herself for thinking that. She wants the best for Lexa, but right now, she isn't alone.

Right now, she feels something. Everything.

Again and again, just with Lexa, Clarke feels again.

The joy and the melancholy, the euphoria and the grief.

The delight and the distress, the anxiety and the tranquility.

The vague feeling of interest.

The excitement.

The gratitude.

The vague trace of love.

"Do you love your life, Clarke?"

There is no answer.

"The dead are gone, Clarke. The livings are hungry. And so are you. You want more and you are right. You deserve more. You should listen to the part of you that tells you what you need to do to love your life. Only then will you be fully satisfied. No one else will live your life. No one else will experience what you go through during the day, but you."

Lexa almost shrugs when she finishes her sentence. She should follow her own advices.

Lexa encourages Clarke to leave and listen her ambitions, her hopes, her pursue of happiness, despite her internal voice screaming for her to stay because they just started knowing each other. They've just started and she never wants it to end. They just met, and she hasn't had enough. She doesn't think she ever will. But if Clarke wants to leave, Lexa will only support her.

Clarke is the reminder that there is still time to do something else.

Clarke could be her reason to trade her conflicting life for a better one.

Clarke is a miracle in Lexa's life. She will leave this town if it means she can still see her.

When is the ideal moment to say "I love you"?

Lexa wrestles with the question over and over and is unable to find any answer. She has always thought it would be easy to figure out. After all, one feels and one speaks, and it's supposed to be the end of the mystery. If she feels something, shouldn't she be able to say it loud and clear? Shouldn't it just come naturally, without her having to think about it, to turn this thought in her head until the end of times? Especially when she's been numbing her emotions for so long, the feeling of such a strong attraction should make her want to claim it to the world.

She discovers that it's so much harder.

She isn't even sure if this is love and at the same time, she knows deeply in her heart that it cannot be anything else. But if it isn't and she confesses to Clarke, it would ruin everything. And if it is, and she doesn't say anything, she will be miserable. And if she isn't sure and she says it, would it be a lie? Would she make such earth-shattering declaration without being so sure that she would bet her life on it?

What is love? How is she sure that it is the most powerful feeling in the world?

Is it because every time she sees Clarke, she feels like she can conquer any obstacles thrown at her? Is it because of the way she suddenly becomes aware of her clothes, her appearance, her words, her tone, her actions and everything else she does? Is it because of the way she wants to become the best version of herself just to minimally fool herself to believe that she deserves someone like Clarke? Is it the way she knows she won't ever deserve her, but she still wants to try because there is no one else she would rather be with? Is it because every time they say goodbye, she is back in her dull achromatic universe?

Is it because Clarke makes her feel so strong but so weak at the same time?

"Lexa?"

Clarke waves her hand in front of the familiar green eyes.

"Sorry. I was thinking."

They're sitting on a balcony that dominates the city. It's the rooftop of the highest building in the city and she invited Clarke there for their fifth official date. Glasses of red wine are waiting in front of them.

The two women have agreed to take their relationship slow, but they both regret it already. Regardless, they are having the best time. They spent the first hour pretending to be from the royal dynasty.

Clarke dreams of days spent with Lexa's hand in hers rather than sporadic meetings after a day at work.

Lexa dreams of nights spent in Clarke's arms rather than the small embrace they share when they say goodbye.

"Wine, the sunset, the exquisite view… is this how you impress the ladies?"

Lexa laughs.

"I usually get my hot air balloon and do a tour of the area, but maybe some other day."

"I can't wait then," Clarke winks.

Lexa smiles.

"You're the only lady I want to impress."

Clarke shakes her head in disbelief but says nothing. There is something remarkably romantic in this scenery and she wonders if she would feel the same with someone else by her side, or if Lexa makes everything more beautiful, more magnificent. She doesn't have to think much to know the answer. It's Lexa. It's always her.

It's no wonder that Clarke now imagines a better tomorrow.

When she plans her week, she always makes sure she has time to see Lexa. When she organizes her extra hours, she sets three interminable days per weeks so she can have shorter days later. When she gets something to eat, she wonders if Lexa would like it. When she walks by a place she particularly enjoys, she wonders if Lexa would find the same joy in the landscape. When she arrives home and drops dead on her bed, she wonders if Lexa is getting the rest she needs to go through her day. When she has a rare day off, she misses Lexa.

And now, when she thinks about leaving her job and moving on, she wonders if Lexa would go with her.

Lexa is everywhere.

"Who said I could be impressed?" Clarke smirks.

"I did."

"What if you're wrong?"

"What if I'm right, your highness?"

Lexa wiggles her eyebrows as Clarke rolls her eyes.

The sky sends a refreshing breeze in their way as the sun slowly leaves to wake up the other side of the globe. The blonde somehow wants to follow it. Follow the scorching sphere wherever it goes so she won't ever have to close her eyes and miss a moment with Lexa. They could live in a plane and follow the stars. They could move to a country where the sun never sets and start again.

"I like this," Clarke declares while motioning to the way the city stretches under them. "Sometimes I don't realize how small I am in this place."

"Clarke, you deserve the best," Lexa whispers. "I've told you a hundred times and I will repeat it until you believe me."

But Clarke doesn't want the most powerful person in the world, the 1% of the 1%. She doesn't want sumptuous dinners and sparkling jewelry. She doesn't want to swim into pools of money or drive the most expensive cars. She doesn't to try the rarest meals or the most extravagant drinks. She doesn't want to climb to the edge of the world every day in a different country or dive into the turquoise lakes of the planet. She doesn't want glory and fame, and empty promises, and she knows Lexa would never do that.

Tonight is exactly what she wants. It brings her a type of happiness that no money will ever be able to buy.

"Would you believe me if I said you were the best?"

"No."

Lexa's answer is definitive and said with so much assurance that Clarke almost breaks the moment by snorting.

"You are. You're the best to me."

Lexa doesn't say anything, but she feels the way the ambience changes around them. Something shifts. It doesn't really matter if she feels like she isn't the best. Clarke has her own vision and maybe, maybe someday Lexa will understand where it comes from.

Clarke turns her chair to face Lexa's. They've been sitting side by side for too long and she misses the way her eyes lose themselves in the green paradises. She hesitates a moment, but then slips her hand in Lexa's. It feels warm and fits perfectly with hers, and she wants to leave it there for as long as she can.

"I told you already, but… I don't feel anything. I don't feel anything when I'm at work, when I'm running errands or even when I talk to my family. The only person I get along with is Raven, my best friend. I've lost contact with so many people from school, so many great people. But when I'm with you, it's different."

"Clarke."

"I don't miss anyone. Even Raven."

"Clarke."

"I don't feel anything, but when I'm with you, I feel too much. It's almost impossible for me to process it. When I'm with you, it feels like I can never get enough of you. When you're not here, I miss you so much that it feels like a torture that will never stop. So much happen in my body, in my mind, and I don't know what to do anymore. You make me reacquainted with the version of me I thought I lost forever."

Lexa can only listen as Clarke speaks what is on her mind. They are both facing each other, but the heaviness of the words forces them to look at the city rather than each other. They pretend to be captivated by the purple and pink skies, the dark blue clouds and the orange glow from the skyline.

"Let me know if I'm just going crazy. Let me know if I'm the only one feeling this. Maybe it's just the fact that I'm on top of the world sipping wine. Be honest."

The blonde's eyes burn holes in Lexa's head. Lexa remains silent. She has a million things to say and she doesn't know where to start. She wants to tell Clarke that this isn't an illusion. This isn't a mirage, a game or a temporary rush. This isn't a lifetime promise either. It's the beginning of something. She doesn't know if it will last or if it will crash into the nearest wall. She has no idea if it will destroy her life or transform it in a fairytale. But she knows one thing.

"I feel the same," she breathes out.

"We've only had five dates," Clarke mentions.

"And these were the five best evenings of my life, so don't you dare discredit them," Lexa grins.

A quick squeeze of her hand lets her know that Clarke understands.

Lexa feels like a wave of affection just crashed into her. It makes her dizzy and lightheaded. She is overwhelmed by the pure joy bubbling in her heart, threatening everything else, every other thought crossing her mind. She can't control the smile on her face. It hurts her cheeks but she doesn't care. She feels like she could run a marathon at light speed. Her stomach is playing dodgeball with her other organs and she feels butterflies everywhere. She looks at Clarke, and all she feels is the need to be closer to this woman. She wants to be hers.

She cares so much about her that it hurts. It hurts because what if she can't love her right. What if she makes a mistake and ends up being the one to hurt her? What if, God forbids, she breaks her heart?

She cares and it scares her more than she's ever been before.

She cares and it makes her wants to run away.

But she loves her. She loves her and it's the only thing she should focus on.

"I feel so much with you, Clarke. That's why I…"

She can't say it.

Something prevents her from saying it and she can't let those words out.

"That's why I brought you here," Lexa finishes with a bitter taste in her mouth. "You're special. I wanted to share this place with you. You're the first and probably last to come here with me. I love it."

Clarke nods. She is transported by the unspoken words. She knows. She knows what Lexa almost said and it doesn't matter if it never came out. It's enough. It's more than enough.

"I love it too," she answers with her eyes focused on Lexa.

They say nothing for a while, both terrified of ruining the moment. The sun is replaced by the moon in an astral tango and Clarke is enchanted by the opportunity to be here with Lexa. She almost believes that they rule the planet.

The bottle of wine is empty at their feet when they leave in the middle of the night.

Lexa doesn't want to go home.

And she doesn't.

The apartment is lifeless when they step in. It's so dark that the only signs of life are their shadows decorating the empty walls of Clarke's bedroom. They're walking into dangerous territories but they couldn't care less. The omnipresent silence is all they can listen as they watch each other closely move around the piece. They walk back and forth, closer and farther away, almost touching, but never giving in to their desires. It's a chess game but they both act like they don't know how to win the game.

Clarke takes a step towards Lexa. Its echoes and makes them both feel the tension between them. They are dancing in an invisible maze and the only exit that exist leads to a collision of their respective galaxies. They are pulled together like they are each other's gravity. They feel the lust crawling up their skin and entering their bodies in an inevitable meeting. The entire place is waiting for them to give in to their urges.

When they kiss, the rhythm of their hearts rockets to the moon and lands back on Earth the way an astronaut would; at a speed so high that they almost get sick in the most pleasurable way. The feeling is small but powerful, like the few seconds of free falling after jumping off a plane. Their lips press together and the new sensation is explored completely as their tongues gently brush against one another. It's soft and wet, and they can both taste the wine they had a few hours ago.

It's exhilarating and Lexa finds herself being pressed against the closed door with Clarke's hands holding her waist like a sailor lost at sea would hold on to a lifebelt.

Their breaths mix and their teeth bump together but the pain is temporary. Their movements increase in speed and the hard door is all that hold the brunette standing as the blonde's hands travel up and down. She moves her lips to Lexa's neck and she discovers the softest skin to kiss, bite, suck. Her lover's reaction fills her with more desire.

Lexa's body arches deliciously as Clarke's kisses grow fiercer. She feels a familiar need between her legs and wetness ruining her underwear. Her mind is taken over by images of Clarke taking her against the door, making her orgasm too many times for them to count, holding her trembling body and carrying it to the bed to have her way with her once again.

She bites her lower lip when Clarke's mouth moves south. The blonde discards both shirts that separate them. Bras go flying across the room next and within seconds, their breasts press together in a way that makes them both crave more. Clarke's tongue circle a nipple that is already hard from lust. She nibbles and sucks and lives for the way Lexa moans and pants in her ears. She is careful not to leave a hickey, but the wildest part of her wants nothing more than to mark this woman forever.

She takes her time and Lexa slips a hand behind Clarke's head, holding it closer and tangling her fingers in golden hair.

She moves back to kiss Lexa's bruised mouth as her hands remains to the woman's waistline. She thinks she hears Lexa asking her to take it off, but she ignores it. She wants to make it last. She licks a trail on Lexa's skin from her lips, to her neck, to her chest and stomach. It's salty and it doesn't really have a distinct flavor, but Lexa is becoming all that Clarke wants to taste for the rest of her days.

She presses her naked chest against hers as she moves back up and feels fingers digging into her back, drawing a road to her lower back. It sends her reeling when she thinks about where those fingers could be instead. Her own breathing speeds up and she recognizes the dripping sensation between her legs.

She bites Lexa's lower lips, eliciting a loud groan as she moves one leg between hers. She can feel the heat escaping from the woman's pants and she loves it. She loves that she can have Lexa stuck between the door and her body.

Lexa closes her eyes and mentally pleads for Clarke to touch her. The pressure between her legs is not enough to satisfy her and it drives her to a kind of madness that can only be cured with two fingers deep into her core. She pulls Clarke's hair gently back to try and communicate, but all she receives is the feeling of the blonde smiling against her skin.

"Clarke…"

She tries to adopt a menacing tone, but it sounds like she is a slave pleading for freedom.

She carries her dirty thoughts in her mind as she feels her underwear getting more and more soaked as time passes. She tries to find solace in the hard surface behind her, imagining that it is made of ice glacial enough to put a stop to her cravings, but it doesn't work. The hopeless way with which she is kept pinned to the wall only contribute to increase her arousal.

She feels powerless as Clarke's leg keeps moving against her core, only brushing her clit through her clothes. So close but so damn far.

So. Damn. Far.

She is about to plead when Clarke finally moves her hand. Pants are unzipped and opened roughly like Clarke is the predator and Lexa is the prey waiting to be eaten alive.

And God, she would get on her knees and pray to be eaten alive right now.

A warm finger moves to her center and Lexa trembles from anticipation. Her head goes back and hits the wall behind but she barely feels it. The waves from the blow are nothing compared to the animalism rush flowing through her body.

Clarke gasps when she feels how wet Lexa is. Her index is covered by the most precious fluid there is, and she loses control. She forgets that she wants to take her time and finds Lexa's clit within seconds. It throbs under her touch and Clarke moans when she hears Lexa imploring to be taken.

Clarke feels every heartbeat through Lexa's folds and she worships the sensations. She slips another finger in the familiar warmth and bites her lower lip. She moves up and down and her hand becomes sticky from the clear lubricant coming from between her lover's legs.

Her ears ring with pleasure when Lexa's voice reaches her.

"Take me. Please. Clarke. I need you to take me."

"How?" Clarke murmurs, sweat appearing on her forehead from the fire between them.

"Hard."

Clarke swallows and she swears she could come from that simple word.

She pushes one finger in, but she can already tell it won't be enough. It slips easily in and out, so easily that she almost can't control her motions. Lexa's body arches more and Clarke slams her to the wall, a wicked grin on her face as she pushes another finger in.

She goes slowly at first, taking her time to feel the way Lexa's walls tighten around her fingers, adoring the way she can feel every small bump, every detail under her fingertips. She goes as deep and she can and when Lexa cries blissfully, she knows she has hit the right spot. She wishes she could always elicit this sound. It sounds like a perfect symphony to her ears and it brings her excitement even higher.

She moves ever so slightly to place one of Lexa's leg between her own, hoping it will help her relieve the urges, but it's a temporary solution to a problem that she can only solve by being touched.

"You're so tight," she sighs as she pumps in and out in a fluid movement while the palm of her hand precisely caress Lexa's clit. "You're so wet for me."

She moves faster and Lexa's arms embrace her shoulders harshly. The brunette repeatedly increases her grips around Clarke's body as she holds for her life when the multiple waves bringing her closer and closer to her climax hit her one after another. She barely has time to catch enough air in her lungs to keep her going when she feels Clarke's fingers digging deeper and curling into her.

"Fuck!" she pants out.

She's hot and she can almost not stand, and she is sure that without Clarke's help, she would be on the floor right now. She feels every push and every touch from Clarke's fingers. It still isn't enough. She can feel her walls clenching around Clarke and she whimpers when she walks on the edge of her climax, without ever reaching it.

She almost sobs in frustration when Clarke's fingers move out. They move to her clit and circle it in a way that brings her closer to the end. She resists temptation to beg for what she wants.

"Clarke!" She whines when she feels the blonde nipping at her neck and unexpectedly pushing her fingers back in, curling them at the exact spot that drives Lexa mad.

She pulls slightly at Clarke's hair and feels her whole body shaking against the hard surface when she comes hard, riding fast fingers that refuse to slow down. Her world spin and she rolls her eyes back as she nearly comes again just a minute after her first orgasm.

She grips Clarke's waist and pulls the girl closer, pressing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss. She moans in Clarke's mouth and feels it vibrate in her core. The blonde clenches her jaw when she uses all of her energy to push harder into Lexa. The walls clench around her fingers and she knows.

Lexa rides her second orgasm while conveying all the passion she feels in a burning dance between their tongues.

When she finally moves apart to let air in her body, her body is satisfied, but exhausted. Clarke's hand is still between her leg, immobile, waiting for the next scene. Lexa melts into Clarke's arms as her legs give in.

She almost lets herself fall, but Clarke has planned it. She never stops kissing Lexa as she flexes her arms and pulls her up. Lexa's legs lock around Clarke's waist as the blonde carry them to the bed.

Lexa falls on her back and Clarke straddles her for a moment, admiring how beautiful she is. In this moment, they are completely alone in the world. The liquid proof of arousal shines from between Lexa's legs and Clarke decides that she wants to taste it later.

They lie together for a minute and close their eyes.

They travel through their imagination.

They are the only two survivors from the apocalypse, deciding to love each other until the very end. They are humanity, the best side of it. They are the only ones who know the secrets of the pasts, and they will be the only witnesses of what the future brings.

They are giants looking over to the horizon and dreaming of a better tomorrow. They are fearless and stronger than they were yesterday. They are humans, lying into the moonlight, savoring the rare moment of peace they can get.

Tomorrow they might go back to surviving, but tonight, they are living. They break the silence with their heartbeat and prove that life still exists. They show the world that even when everything is gone, even when everything is hopeless, love can triumph.

The sheets are cold and Clarke shivers as her naked back touches the mattress. It contrasts with the sweat dripping on her skin. Her nipples are hard and she wishes nothing more than for Lexa's tongue to own them. She knows how wet she is and she believes two fingers won't be enough to satisfy her. But when she sees Lexa's silhouette lying next to her, her chest moving up and down as she breathes, her messy hair flying around her face and her hands clenching the sheets, she can only smile and embrace the most beautiful sight she has ever seen.

She's sure her timing is the worse, but she's convinced that she wants to ask Lexa now.

"I need to leave this city," Clarke whispers, trying to steady the pace of her breathing.

She's thought about it. She's thought about what to tell her family, Raven, the people she works with. She's thought about a way to leave everything behind that wouldn't rhyme with being broke and living in a tent. She's thought about a new life, and she knows she wants Lexa in it. She can't start without Lexa.

It takes a second for Lexa's heart to skip many beats. She feels her lungs stiffen and slowly transform to cement. It becomes hard to breathe and she wonders how she went from visiting cloud nine to swimming into the Styx. She hasn't felt like this before. It feels like she can't breathe, no matter how wide she opens her mouth or how fast she inhales. It's never enough oxygen and she can almost feel her organs rot and slowly wrinkle until they turn to dust. Her stomach hurts and the nervousness takes over her brain.

She is on the edge of panic mode and she isn't even sure why.

This woman has the power to bring her to life but also murder her in the most torturous way.

"Leave with me," Clarke asks while her mind is still foggy but her conscience is clear enough.

It's a risky request but Clarke takes the chance. She doesn't know what she will do if Lexa's answer is negative. She has no idea, but it is the first time since months since she's finally found energy to move her life around. She wants to take her car and drive to the unknown. She wants to go to another place and let fate decide where she will end up. She wants this and she wants Lexa by her side.

"I know this sounds like an insane decision," Clarke almost laughs. "But I'm sure of it. The talks we've had in the past days, the late calls in the middle of the night, the insomnia that turned out to be useful… everything has changed with you. You're right. I'm living. I'm hungry for more. I need more. And maybe we're moving too fast, but you know just like me that there isn't only one way to do things. There isn't only the road paved with what society expects from us. There's more. There's the rhythm to our own story and what we decide to do."

The tears that are threatening to burn Lexa's eyes disappear. Her chest moves again and her body tingles with the relief that Clarke is not leaving her behind.

Lexa doesn't hesitate. She knew from the moment they met tonight that she would hear such request. They are both in a similar situation and it is the only way out. And now, she knows her answer. She knows it because she's been wanting to ask the same thing of Clarke. She knows because she can only imagine them walking in foreign streets, discovering a new city to live in.

"Where?" She whispers.

Lexa would follow her anywhere, but she still asks, in fear of everything being an ugly prank.

"Does it matter? We can leave in your hot air balloon," Clarke winks.

Lexa thinks that this is a movie scene. It can't be happening. This isn't suppose to happen because this is real life. Everything matters. They have jobs and families. They have friends and a social network. They have responsibilities and bills to pay and a limited amount of money in their bank accounts. They can't leave everything behind. They can't move to somewhere else, to a mystery destination with nothing in mind but each other. This isn't a game.

What if they break up? What if they discover that they can't be together? What if they can't find a place to call home anymore? Are they not moving too fast? Are they not leaving too much in the hands of destiny? Is she not still under the influence of her climax to give a clear answer?

But Lexa finds herself thinking. She loves Clarke. And even though this is the beginning, even though they have only started to know each other, even though this is the ultimate U-Haul scenario, she wants to. She wants to take that chance because anything, anything at all seems better than staying in this town and doing the same job and having the same routine. There must be more than just playing pretend and waiting for something to happen. She has to make it happen.

There must be more than living a life that isn't hers.

"It doesn't matter," Lexa agrees.

They can always live in a cardboard castle and be the queens of their own universe. They can walk miles from a town to one another and sleep in tents. They can go through the most violent storms and fight the cruelest hurricanes. They can climb a volcano and pretend that they are only children acting like the floor is lava. They can do anything.

Clarke reaches for Lexa's hand and squeezes it.

"We can find a place to be ours," she says.

Lexa has never heard such perfect words.

She finds her home into Clarke's eyes and she never wants to move again.

"I love you."

She's been waiting for too long to say it, and Clarke has been waiting for too long to hear it.

Clarke's answer is immediate. It's the most natural sentence for her to pronounce. She means every word and she wishes she could trade place with Lexa just so the woman can truly feel the truth behind the words.

"I love you more."

Lexa almost remains silent. Almost. A glance to Clarke's little desk makes her smile when she notices the book resting on it. Her memory flashes to the first conversation they had, just a few months ago.

"I love you the most."

She rolls on top of the blonde's body in a fluid motion and slides her hand to cup her chest. She hears a faint gasp and grins. This might become her favorite sound.

"I do," she affirms.

She will spend the rest of the night proving it.

I wrote this story to the one who made me feel again.

Long live Clexa!