You can thank a random Big Bang Theory clip for this.

This is kind of M rated since there's nakedness and touching, but it's not exactly smut.

This is the absolute last chapter. I'm totally firm on that. Completely. Maybe. Dunno.

It had been nearly two months since Clarke was shot. They had now been in Polis for a couple of weeks. Clarke had insisted on being a part of the meetings with the elders. With the Mountain Men dead, they were thinking of expansion once more, something Lexa thought the Sky People should also consider come spring. Whether or not this expansion should be attempted together was the current point they were debating, and Clarke was tired of it.

She let her mind wander, watching Lexa in her element, trying her best not to get aroused by the pure authority and power she held over the room. When the fruitless meeting was finally dismissed and the elders had left, Clarke sidled up to her irritated girlfriend, and said, "I'm sorry things didn't go your way. I don't understand how they can resist you."

Lexa just silently grumbled, not looking at her.

"You know," Clarke continued, playing with Lexa's coat collar, "it's a shame all those paintings you drew of me went to waste. So I've been thinking...we should paint each other."

Lexa gazed down, her interest finally caught. She studied Clarke's face, her own softening in the process. Lexa dipped her head. "All right. When would you like to do this?"

"I was thinking right now."

Lexa nodded and Clarke grabbed her hand and quickly led her out of the conference hall.

"You are awfully eager," said Lexa in a faintly amused manner.

"What can I say," responded Clarke nonchalantly, picking up the pace even more, "it's not every day I get to paint the commander."

A minute later they were in Lexa's house. Clarke started collecting all of the scattered paint supplies so that they could be easily accessed from here on out.

The she turned to Lexa and said, "Strip."

"Excuse me?" Lexa said, eyebrow raised.

Clarke moved in closer and whispered, "You like to paint your face," Clarke placed a hand to her stomach, "but I want to paint your body."

Lexa's breath hitched slightly at this last word, so Clarke was surprised when she seemed hesitant to disrobe. The fact that Lexa was not ashamed of her body or embarrassed to be naked in front of her, further perplexed Clarke.

"What's wrong?" she said, squeezing her hand.

"It's just...no one's ever painted me in the nude before. It's a very intimate act."

"That's the point," Clarke said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She placed a hand to the side of Lexa's face. "Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

Clarke gave her a look as if to say, 'so?' and then Lexa started to remove her long, open cut jacket, revealing strong, tanned shoulders beneath. Clarke took a few steps back to admire her progress from a different vantage point. She would never tire of all the graceful lines and curves of Lexa's toned body. Even the scars from various injuries and kills didn't detract from her beauty. In fact, they added character. Combined with her tattoos, and love bites, her skin literally told the story of her life.

Somewhat awkwardly, Lexa stood in the middle of her living room, apparently waiting for instruction.

When Clarke didn't give it, she said, "Where would you like me?"

Between my thighs.

"Right there is fine," she answered, reaching for the first of the paints.

"Uh, Clarke," said Lexa confusedly, "where is the canvas?"

Instead of responding, Clarke dipped her finger into the red paint and proceeded to draw a heart above Lexa's left breast.

Clarke grinned up at her. "Right here." Before Lexa could protest, Clarke continued with, "I'm going to paint you like one of my French girls."

Lexa frowned at this. "Are you saying you've done this with multiple women before?"

"No, Lexa," Clarke said, stifling a laugh. "It's a modification of a line from a really old movie." She dipped her finger in the green paint and caught her eye. "Remember what those are?

Clarke began drawing a field across her stomach.

"Yes, moving pictures depicting things that aren't real. What a strange way to spend ones time."

Because this isn't strange at all.

"Most people weren't in constant battles. They had a lot of time to kill."

"I will never become fully accustomed to your people's expressions." The green paint was rolling down her thigh now. Lexa made a face. "Clarke, this is going to make a horrible mess of my floor."

"Oh right," she said, absentmindedly. Clarke looked around the room until she found a large canvas. She brought it over and laid it on the ground before Lexa. "Just stand on that until I'm done." Clarke caught Lexa's eye. "Until it's your turn to paint me."

As predicted, Lexa gulped at the prospect and raised no further complaints as Clarke continued to stroke her skin in a number of colourful hues. While not her best work, it was at least passable considering the crude instrument she had used to complete it. Or so she thought.

Lexa looked down and said, "I can't tell what it's supposed to be." She squinted at two runny blobs. "I think those are horses." She squinted at two smaller blobs. "Are those supposed to be us?"

"Yes. I painted the day we lay in the grass and just relaxed."

Lexa looked up. "You remember that?"

"It's like I told you, I remembered everything."

They stared at each other for a bit in contemplation of days gone by, days that they hadn't technically shared together.

Lexa snapped out of it first. "Are you going to paint my back now?"

"There's no way I can top your commander tattoo, so I think it's your turn now," she finished, kneeling over to wipe her fingers off on the canvas. Clarke stood up again with a smirk as she pulled down her pants and Lexa's eyes immediately shot to her crotch, hungry and predator like. It wasn't long before she was just as naked as her girlfriend.

Lexa looked far from wanting to finger paint, but Clarke insisted, even though she too was finding it hard to concentrate whenever Lexa circled near her breasts...or lower, much lower. No matter what, Lexa always kissed the scar from the bullet wound before paying further attention to her right breast, but not today. Was this just because they were doing something different than usual? Or was Lexa pissed at her for this whole scheme? The answer came soon enough when she saw what Lexa had painted.

"Is that a giant...raccoon face?" Clarke said staring at the purple and orange smears across her chest and stomach.

"Yes, don't you like it?" said Lexa sweetly, little humour actually reaching her eyes.

Ever since the demented raccoon line, they joked about this all the time...well, more on Clarke's part than Lexa's.

"It's...nice."

"Good, now turn around. I'm going to do your back now."

To be honest, Clarke was tired of the painting and wanted to partake in a different sort of hands on activity.

"Lexa, maybe-"

"Turn around, Clarke. You wanted to paint each other, so that's precisely what I intend to do." Clarke sighed and turned around. "As you well know, I am a very thorough painter." Lexa lightly squeezed one ass cheek. "I don't like to miss any spots." She did the same to the other but harder.

Clarke bit her tongue to stifle the groan that threatened to burst forth. Teasing the commander never worked out in her favour. Lexa had much more restraint than she did. She didn't know why she felt compelled to keep testing the waters. Perhaps she just didn't like to lose?

The next thing she knew, there was paint running down her shoulders and back and Lexa's hands all over her, swirling it this way and that, covering every inch of her backside. Clarke was nearly whimpering with desire when Lexa began rubbing paint up and down her calves and thighs.

She knew better than to plead. Lexa never gave in. She did things in her own time no matter what. But Clarke couldn't help it. She was on the verge of collapse.

"Lexa, please. You've proven your point. This was a dumb idea. And I shouldn't have misled you." Lexa's hands went high in-between her thighs. "Lexa!"

The teasing hands retracted and she felt the air shift as Lexa stood up. She walked around to Clarke's front with eyes as black as night.

"Lie down, Clarke."

Only too grateful to do so, she did.

"There," she said, studying Clarke's prone form, "now my painting is complete."

Lexa dropped to her knees and crawled over top of Clarke, making sure not to let their painted torsos actually touch. Clarke felt like screaming in frustration and was about to grab Lexa towards her when Lexa relaxed into her, practically devouring her face.

They made love with an intensity that had been lacking in recent days and by the end of the extra messy session, they had captured themselves on canvas, abstract as it was.

They observed it after the fact, arms around each others waist. Lexa looked at her and sincerely said, "I believe I've just found the perfect gift for your mother."

"Lexa!"

Question: Would you accept that painting for a present? If so, where would you hang it? :p