The Best Time

There were moments in her life that Octavia could remember with perfect clarity.

The moment she'd realised what bitterness tasted like: the heavy reality that she'd never be able to leave their family's cramped quarters on the arc, that those four grey walls would be all she would ever see.

The moment she'd experienced a glimmer of pure happiness: when Bellamy had gifted her with a stuffed, purple teddy bear she'd later realised he must've stolen from someone as a gift for her fourth birthday.

The moment she'd first tasted true freedom: Stepping off the dropship, her feet planted on terra firma with no guards, no walls, no rules.

The moment she'd experienced raw pain: the day her mother had died – because of her.

If she closed her eyes, she could almost smell the air, feel what it had felt like: her hope, her joy, her despair; everything almost tangible.

And now there was this moment. She knew this one she'd never forget for as long as she lived, determined to engrave every detail onto her memory.

Lincoln carried her back into his cave, leaving her to start the fire. He shrugged out of his sweater, throwing the wet garment across a table. She removed her jacket, her clothing pretty much soaked too. Octavia removed her boots; her feet glad to be free of them and tried to wring some of the moisture from her hair. But she found herself distracted as she watched him work at kindling the fire, his movements economical, the muscles of his shoulders relaxing and contracting. She bit her lip, her eyes following the dark, arrowed ink running down the length of his spine, disappearing out of sight. Her fingers itched to touch them, to press her lips against those dark etchings. Heat pooled in her belly and her pulse quickened.

He really was a hunk.

He turned to face her, the wood crackling loudly as the fire sputtered to life. With the flames behind him, his face was in shadow. Momentarily, her nerves took over. Octavia chewed her lip, taking a tentative step towards him because the pull between them was back. Was there a protocol for being deflowered?

She reached out and traced the tattoo on his chest, her eyes flicking to his face. Lincoln watched the journey of her finger, holding his breath. He reached for her, pushing her wet hair behind her ears, his hands cupping her face.

"Are you sure about this? There's no rush."

Her hands rested against his waist, her fingers impatient to brush across his warm skin.

Octavia nodded, their foreheads resting together. He had a small smile on his face at her vigorous nod. She should've been embarrassed at her enthusiastic response, but she wasn't. She wanted this more than anything.

"It feels right, being with you. I want this."

Her green eyes blazed as his lips descended. The kiss was soft, playful, and she smiled into it. Her arms wound around him and she reached onto her toes, needing to get closer. He brushed his nose down the length of hers, his teeth scraping along her jawline. She could hear him inhale, breathing her in. Her knees almost buckled then, the breath she hadn't realised she was holding expelled in a passionate rush.

His hands went to the hem of her wet tank and she shivered when he tugged upwards, relieving her of the garment. Automatically, her arms moved to cover her naked chest. Octavia felt a finger under her chin, raising her eyes to his. His eyes were so dark, so penetrating; she felt he was trying to see into her soul.

"You saved me," he whispered and her mouth went dry. "You're beautiful."

"So are you."

The curves around his mouth creased into a smile and she touched his lips, reaching up to kiss him again.

"I like when you smile." She pressed a kiss to the groove beside his mouth and he hugged her close. If she'd had any doubts about her decision, they were eradicated.

Their tongues touched and lust exploded inside of her when his arms encased her frame, effectively trapping her in his embrace. Octavia moaned; her body a livewire of feeling. Everything felt intensified, sensitive and hot.

She had no recollection of how she came to lie on his furs, all her clothing removed. The soft fleece stroked her sensitive skin, the friction heightening her pleasure. His hands and lips travelled everywhere, kneading and nipping. When he moved his weight between her thighs, she opened her eyes, drunk on the magnitude of her feelings for him.

His mouth crashed against hers and she poured everything into the connection. His long fingers caressed her skin and she felt simultaneously desired and cherished. Their lips remained fused as those fingers travelled over her hips, around her behind, and down her leg to her knee. When Lincoln took one of her breasts into his mouth and suckled, she felt the answering pull in her groin. She moaned loudly as her body bowed off the pelts.

"Octavia." His hands reached for hers and their fingers linked above her head. She cradled him between her thighs, their eyes locked, nose-to-nose. She felt him move slowly, pushing into her.

"Relax," he whispered, his lips brushing hers. She let go. He thrust and filled her, stretching her untried passage. She felt a sharp pinch and cried out. Lincoln stopped moving, his lips back on hers, his kisses drugging her once more.

He was all the way inside of her, leaving her feeling extraordinarily full. Lincoln moved his arm over her head, his hand tangling in her long hair as it splayed across his bed. With his other hand, he caressed her face, his eyes gazing into hers – dark, passionate and burning with desire. She was cocooned by him as he moved, his hand moving to her hip, setting a delicious pace.

Slowly he withdrew, then surged. Octavia gasped, grasping onto his upper arms. Oh my god. That felt good.

The quiet tranquility of the cave was broken only by their mingled breaths and the sputter of the roaring fire as he moved inside of her.

Pleasure radiated out of every pore of her body and built towards an invisible peak. Octavia's hands moved across his shaven head, across his lower back and squeezed his muscled behind. Her breathing accelerated as his steady rhythm pushed her higher. Her eyes squeezed shut as she drowned in sensation, his staccato breaths in harmony with the gentle thrust of his hips.

She cried out and he caught the sound with his lips. Desire, want, need, emotion and pleasure converged as their bodies tensed, their mutual climax hitting them with blissful intensity.

It took a minute for her heart rate to return to normal. Lincoln collapsed on top of her but moved to shift his weight. She protested.

"No, don't." She liked the weighty feeling.

"I'm too heavy," he replied, shifting onto his back but drawing her close. He pulled the fur throw over them, but she pushed it to their waist. With the fire still burning, she was hot and lazy. Her hand moved slowly across his chest, tracing his tattoos.

"Wow," she said into the silence. "I see what the boys are always on about." She laughed softly, a little self-conscious.

"Are you alright?"

She raised herself onto her elbow and in response to his query, dropped a kiss on his lips. Lincoln wasn't saying much and she felt uneasy.

"Was it… I mean, it was my first time so I'm not sure…" She saw him frown and rolled her eyes as a defence mechanism. "It was great – for me. But you…"

"Octavia." Her eyes closed briefly because the baritone of his voice vibrated across his chest. Lust stroked deep inside her. Again? I'm some kind of nympho freak.

"You're clearly hot and must have all the girls in your tribe swooning for days…"

"Octavia." His forehead was marred with a deep frown, his lips a thin line. "I love you."

Her mouth formed a round O, but no sound followed. Hearing him say the words were so much sweeter than anything she'd imagined. Then she smiled broadly.

"Me too." She climbed onto his chest and kissed him deeply, passionately, with all the love she felt inside.

"I have to get you home. It's late." Despite his words, he didn't stop kissing her though. In fact, he rolled her beneath him.

"Na ah," she said, breathless, wrestling him so that she was on top. This time, she wanted to touch, kiss and explore his body. "My turn."

She straddled his hips, her hands braced on his shoulders. Lincoln had a raised brow, but his lips curled into a sexy smile. He lay back, his eyes challenging her.

She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "I love the way you say my name…"

"Octavia."

She bit down on his ear and he half groaned, half chuckled.

"I really need to get you back. Your brother will -"

Her lips found his. "My brother's a dick. We know this. Whether he found you alone or with me, he'd want to kill you."

Her mouth explored and her tongue flicked across his nipple. Octavia felt him shudder.

"Yes. But I think we can both agree…" he gasped when she blew lightly across his skin, "that if he knew what I was doing to his baby sister right now, he might burn me at the stake." His hands fisted in her hair.

"Firstly, right now, his baby sister's the one doing." She kissed him hard, a wicked grin on her face as her hands travelled lower. "Secondly, I agree. I have to get back soon. Sooo… do you really want to spend our last moments together talking about my brother? Besides," she continued, "I really want to kiss every one of your sexy tattoos."

He groaned, his hands tangling in her hair as he dragged her mouth to his.

THE END

a/n: This story was always meant to be a sort of bridge detailing a little of the beginning of their love affair. I hadn't planned on writing a long multi-chapter because I don't really have the time. This seemed to be a good compromise.

For those who asked, I write when inspiration strikes. So if it does, I might write more for these two. If not, then for now, this is it.

Thank you for reading and reviewing. x