summary : since you can remember, you’ve always been a last choice to everyone, never allowing yourself to get close to anyone. that is until someone comes in a changes every with a simple action and words.
warning : smut (piv, public—they’re out in the open)
You always felt like a second choice—no, not even second. The last option. When nothing else worked, you were the last person to be sought out. Forever and always. It was your fate, your destiny. Over time, you grew used to it, allowed it to be a part of you, despite the distaste it would always leave in your mouth whenever people asked for your help, knowing why they were here.
And now, you’re on the ground. The air felt refreshing, new, not recycled. Trees were endless, the water sparkled in the shining sun that casted long shadows on the ground. It was beautiful, breathtaking. A whole new world and it was all yours.
Well, not completely yours.
Grounders were a threat, the biggest threat yet. Constantly seeking your camp out, hunting you like you were wild animals they could eat. It was tortuous.
But unity day took all that pressure and fear away. A day to relax.
You weren’t alone, your only friends being Monty and Jasper. Not the best influences, but no one in camp really was—you were all criminals, all seemingly untrustworthy. But those two were the only two you let hold your life in their hands. Not the best with weapons or combat, but they never let you feel like a last resort to them.
Jasper was urging you to have some moonshine, his grin wide and reaching his eyes, his dark brown irises glistening under the pale moon.
“Have some,” he said, his voice urgent as he held a cup with liquid inside. “It’s unity day, and we’re on earth! Celebrate.”
A small sigh escapes you, and you can’t help the small smile that spreads over your lips. You finally take the cup from him and bring it to your lips, taking a sip. The alcohol burns down your throat, warm and scorching. But there’s a sweet and bitter taste that makes it bearable.
Jasper and Monty cheer at you, large grins both covering their faces and you laugh—actually laugh. You had been so worried about Earth, the grounds, surviving, not allowing yourself a break and now you were being forced to have one.
Time ticked by, people got drunk. You had excused yourself from your friends, hearing their protests. You were relaxed, body not rigid, mind not tense. Your feet led you to the lake, the same lake you visited on your first day. It looked even more stunning with the moon reflecting against the glass-like liquid.
You sat on the ground, legs drawn to your chest and arms wrapped firmly around them. Your gaze was trained on the scenery, on the open space around you. Here, you weren’t a last option, you didn’t need to be an option. Nature took you in as its own, allowed you these beautiful sights whenever you wanted.
The night was young, beautifully so. A sight that felt so intimately yours.
The sound of branches snapping brought you back to reality, your head turning around toward the sound in an instant. Your body went tense, shoulders tight, your eyes narrowing to see through the dark.
That’s when you see him. Bellamy Blake.
Your body relaxes ever so slightly, a small sigh of relief escaping you as he nears where you sat on the ground.
“Did I scare you?” He asked, his tone mocking, his arms crossed over his chest.
“You sneaked up on me in the dark, of course you did.” You answer with a firm tone, your gaze moving away from him and back to vast water.
He chuckled from behind, low but not unkind. He was a power that couldn’t be reckoned with. A being who held strength and courage all in one, never wavering or faltering under anyone’s gaze. A strong leader who cared.
“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”
You turn your head once more, finding him sat next to you. His legs stretched out in front of him, hands placed on the ground to keep his back straight. His gaze wasn’t on yours, rather the moon. And even from your position, you could see how it reflected in his irises.
“Yeah…” you finally say in all but a whisper, turning your gaze to the moon yourself.
A full circle, shining brightly in the sky and offering its light for the dark night the enveloped the sky. It truly was the most beautiful thing ever, even from space, seeing the moon on Earth was impossible to be compared to. Holding so much beauty and meaning, like its entire existence was for one thing.
To bring light even in the darkest times.
“You often come to the lake by yourself?” Bellamy’s voice broke the silence first, a deep rumble yet it held a sense of kindness to it.
Strange, you thought, he’s usually so stern.
You look to him, and this time he’s already looking at you. Your heart skips a beat for a moment, his gaze is intense and heavy, something that is impossible to ignore. You nod as a response and he smiles. He actually smiles.
“I see why,” he says, looking to the water, “it’s peaceful here.”
It was like a secret hideout, somewhere only you knew about. No one ever came here, it was only you, but Bellamy now knew about it, and something about him knowing didn’t make you uncomfortable.
“You think the air alone is comforting?” You ask, head tilting as your lips turn up into a small grin. “The water is even more so.”
Bellamy smirks at you, his brow raised in curiosity. “Are you trying to see my shirtless, princess?”
The nickname has fell so easily from his lips, like it was perfectly made for you. But it was the suggestion of his words that made you pause. You hadn’t meant it in that way, had you? You just wanted to let him in on a secret.
Your silence only amused Bellamy further, his smirk growing ever so slightly, a light hum escaping his lips. Before you know it, he’s pulling his shirt off and discarding it somewhere. Then, he’s working on removing his pants, socks, shoes. Everything until he’s in nothing but his boxers.
You don’t mean to stare, but you do. He’s like a magnet, a force you can’t avoid. He’s built like a warrior, despite being nothing but a janitor on the Ark. His body toned, defined muscles, scars from battles on the ground. It’s only when he speaks do you look up.
“It’s rude to stare you know.”
You swallow, blinking a few times, willing your mind to not wander. But it’s hard when he’s standing there, his body practically calling to you. You mutter an apology and he chuckles, he doesn’t need one. He’s cocky, and he knows he’s attractive. A dangerous combination.
It’s not an offer, it’s a command.
It’s a command you can’t reject.
You don’t think while stripping, reduced to nothing but your bra and underwear. Now he’s staring. His eyes travel head to toe, taking in all of you—drinking in every inch like he has tasted water in days.
“It’s rude to stare.” You comment, repeating his previous words.
Bellamy doesn’t care, he takes his time to look back up into your eyes, a devilish glint in his eyes. He takes a step closer, as much as you probably should move back, you don’t.
“Can you blame me, pretty?”
A new name. Another name to make your mind twist with thoughts, filled with images. You swallow. Was this another case of being a last resort? Had he flirted with every girl in camp for release and grew bored or been rejected?
You shake the thoughts off, remembering Monty’s words.
“You’ll be someone’s first choice.”
You allow your body to relax, rolling your eyes as a response. “Get in the water.”
You turn, taking steps toward the water. Your feet hit first, and you continue further until the water reaches the middle of your stomach. Your entire lower body is submerged, cold and relaxing water splashing against your body.
And then, there’s a presence in front of you. You hadn’t realised your eyes had been closed, but they open to be met with Bellamy’s gaze already on yours. He doesn’t look stern, he doesn’t look like a leader in this moment. He simply looks like a man admiring something close to a goddess.
The thought has your heart pounding harshly against your chest, your pulse quickening in your ear. You’re sure he can hear the racing beat of your heart, that it may have torn from your chest and right into his hands.
“The water is nice.” He says, his voice far too calm in comparison to your body that feels like it’s aflame right now.
You can only manage a nod, every word failing you in that very moment. The world felt still, like it had stopped spinning for a moment. It felt like it belonged to you, allowing you the choice of what happened—your very own game of sorts.
But this isn’t a game. Bellamy isn’t a choice.
He’s a want, a need. A desire.
“What are you thinking about, princess?”
Bellamy’s voice is lower, it sounds closer. And it’s only then do you realise your eyes have closed again. You open them, to find he’s leaned closer, his lips had been right against your ear. So very close. What were you thinking? You didn’t even know yourself.
He’d plagued your every thought, with one simple interaction. It was almost pathetic. You spent your life avoiding feelings like this, not allowing yourself to get close, in fear of being someone’s last choice. Yet here you were, allowing yourself to fall. And for once, you weren’t sure if you wanted to be saved.
He moves closer, the water swaying between you. His hands find their way to your waist, his head leaning down to be mere inches from yours. Now you’re sure he can hear your rapid heart, maybe even see the thoughts that course through your mind.
A smirk graces his lips, you thought he might’ve spoke and had been too lost in thoughts to register the words, but he had been silent. The moon illuminated every perfect feature on his face, he looked perfectly sculpted by the gods themselves. A sinful being.
“You know,” he says, and you instantly catch the voice echoing in your ears. “I’ve seen you from afar, all alone. Why’s such a pretty being never sworn by desperate men?”
You pause, almost falter under his intense gaze and words. Almost. It felt like dagger, thought it was an accusation. It was a question, one that came from pure curiosity and speculation and nothing more.
But how does one so simply say they had always been the last choice? Never seen in the crowd of first choices. It’s unknown, a harsh feeling that’s been embedded to your entire being.
“I’m not their first choice.”
Bellamy falters. The smirk disappearing far too quickly from his lips, the intense gaze he always wore shifting to something softer. Pity, maybe. But it didn’t feel like just that. It felt deeper, something more than just feeling bad.
“You’re my first choice.”
The world felt like it had stilled, motionless around you. His gaze is still locked on yours, still watching any move or reaction you give, like a predator watching his prey. But it’s not harsh or intense, not forcing, it’s gentle. Like he’s gently coaxing more information from you.
“What?” You splutter, unsure if you had even heard him correctly or if it had been a cruel joke your ears played.
“You heard me, princess,” he says, a chuckle escaping him.
His arms wrap more firmly around your waist, pulling you closer to him. And you let him. Because maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe Monty was right, maybe you were his first choice.
The words fail you once more, unable to form a coherent sentence even in your mind. Far too fogged with his words replaying over like a broken record. Bellamy doesn’t speak either, he just keeps his gaze trained on you, like out of all nature surrounding you, you’re still the only thing worth looking at.
He almost sounds hurt, but the understanding in his tone is more prominent. You only nod, confirming his suspicions. Instead of looking defeated or walking away, he smiles. A genuine smile like the one you saw previously.
You pause, your body stilling as if the water had became ice around you. You only stare at him with wide eyes. Prove it. You rack your brain for logicality, to prove he was simply lying and playing her. But there was no deception in his eyes, and Bellamy Blake was a truthful man.
Sometimes, the truth was dangerous. But right now, you craved the truth.
You nod for a response again, and that’s all the confirmation Bellamy needs before crashing his lips against yours. You expected him to start gentle, but his kiss is desperate, passionate, like he’s been holding back far too long and can’t contain himself and his desire any longer.
Your eyes flutter closed, your body relaxes as his presses his every muscle against your body—his skin a warm contrast to the cold water and night air. A welcome heat. Your arms wrap around his neck, one hand moving to tangle in his hair.
Any doubts are thrown to the wind, any second guesses of what you are gone.
All you know and care about is his taste, how his lips feel against yours. How intoxicating the man before you is.
You’re addicted, and he’s the drug.
His hands moved to the backs of your thighs, hoisting your body up with ease as if you were nothing but a feather to him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your head tipping to the side as his tongue drags along your bottom lip and within an instant, you grant him access.
His tongue explores you, a low groan vibrating against your lips as if the taste of you satisfies him. You’re loosing all sanity, needing him like the air you breathe, how you need food and water.
He pulls away first, leaving you missing the feel of his lips on yours.
“We should get out the water at least.”
His words are true, but you don’t want to wait. And you definitely can’t walk into camp in nothing but your underwear. Bellamy practically senses your disappointment, a cocky smirk curling into his lips. You expect some snarky comment, but are met with none.
“You promise to be quiet?”
Is he suggesting you do it here? In the vast open nature? The sun is low beyond the horizon, the moon taking its place. It’s late, most people wouldn’t dare venture the woods this late, this dark—plus, they were far too distracted with getting drunk to care what was beyond their camp.
You nod. But actions aren’t enough this time.
Bellamy smiled at you, like he abandoned the cocky smirk to only smile for you. He carries you out the water, and your heart pounds relentlessly in your chest in anticipation. His words echo in your mind; “you’re my first choice.”
He sets you carefully on the ground, settling between your legs with his hands either side of your head to keep his weight up, and not crush you. You stare up at him, unblinking, and he only meets your gaze. So soft, so unlike what he wants to do.
“You sure you want this?” He asks, voice anything but a whisper.
“I do,” you confirm, a small smile gracing your lips.
That’s all he needs, all he needs to stop holding back, to take what he so desperately wants. In a moments time, his lips are back on yours, it’s not as desperate but it’s intimate, passionate—like he’s trying to spill his every emotion into one kiss. Your arms snake around his neck and pull him closer, not caring as his weight is flush against you.
He pulls back, you think that’s it, but his lips trail from your jaw to your neck. They start as soft kisses against your skin, then his teeth graze the sensitive flesh on your neck, causing a small gasp to escape you. Bellamy doesn’t stop, he pushes further, biting and sucking in that very same spot, leaving dark marks across your skin so visibly to everyone.
And he doesn’t care, neither do you. You want—need—people to know your his, that he never chose you last, show what could’ve been.
“I would really love to take this slow, princess,” he murmurs against your skin, you can feel the vibrations of his voice against you, “but I don’t think I can hold back much longer.”
You bring your gaze back to him, words not falling. Sure, you’re completely alone, but you can’t wait much longer either, he’s got you trapped under a spell. One you don’t want to break free off.
You smile at him, one hand moving from around the back of his neck and down his torso until you reach the waistband of his boxers. You see his breathing hitch, his eyes trailing your every move.
“Don’t hold back. Don’t wait any longer.”
Your words are like a promise, or an encouragement—Bellamy isn’t sure. But it’s enough for his hands to practically tear your panties off, a gasp escaping you as the cold night air hits your core, sending shivers up your spine.
Your fingers curl around the waistband, tugging them down, your eyes never leaving his face—he’s smirking again, like he’s not sure whether to smile or smirk around you, he almost looks proud. Of what? You don’t know.
He kicks the fabric off, his hands now parting your legs for better access. The tip of his cock pokes your entrance and yet another gasp leaves your parted lips. He’s teasing you after saying he can’t wait, slowly moving the tip up and down your slit.
“Bellamy,” the words are breathless, pleading, “please… don’t tease.”
No words, no reaction. No warning.
He pushes in, a mix of being gentle and being rough. A moan escape you and you quickly cover your mouth to muffle the sounds. Bellamy’s brows are knitted together and he grabs your wrist, firm but gentle and moves it.
“Come on, princess,” he muses, annoyingly cocky, “I know you can be quiet without using your hand.”
“You can be so quiet in quiet, but now I’m inside you, you struggle.”
His words feel degrading, harsh but so affectionate. You let out a shaky breath, your hips bucking up needing to feel him hit every inch inside you. He only chuckles, his hands back on your waist and forcing you still.
“Too big.” You whine out.
He tilts his head, smirking once more like he takes enjoyment—pleasure—in seeing you struggle to take him and be quiet.
“Be a good girl, be quiet.”
You manage a nod, and he finally moves. Every thrust rhythmic, slow and gradually speeding up, becoming faster, harder, purposeful. Your head leans back against the ground, eyes flutter close and Bellamy allows you to not watch—he has plenty more chances to make you watch.
He grips your waist tighter, near hard enough to leave bruises—he wants you to be quiet and yet he’s leaving evidence of your time together. He thrusts harder, deeper, hitting the perfect spot. You want to moan out, scream but you can’t and you know it.
“Bellamy,” you breathe out, ensuring your words are nothing but a breathless whisper for only him to hear.
He groans, low and quiet. His head hangs low, you’re not sure if his eyes are closed or if he’s watching how intimately you two are connected right now—both are enough to make you shiver with pleasure.
He doesn’t respond to your calling of his name, simply keeping his fast and relentless speed. The air is filled with labourer breathes and the soft sound of skin slapping against skin—like he’s trying to stay quiet but holding back is far too hard of a challenge.
You cling to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin and leaving your own marks on him, your own evidence of this moment. A memory that feels more than some pleasurable act.
Bellamy lifts his head, eyes filled with desire and yet a hint of confusion. “Say what?”
He smiles, nodding. “You’re my first choice. In every world, every time. You’re the one I want.”
A shaky, quiet moan escapes you and he doesn’t try tell you to be quiet—your sounds edging him on to the brink of falling, and he doesn’t want to be saved. He speeds up, if that’s even possible anymore, your jaw hangs as if though it’s not even attached to you anymore. He’s rough, needy, everything you didn’t expect.
Your lips move to speak, but nothing leaves you. He fills the blank for you.
You nod, legs shaking and his hand roams over one of your thighs as if to ease it for you. He doesn’t slow though, doesn’t become gentler, remaining the same pace and roughness. You lips a parted, it doesn’t even sound like you’re breathing anymore. Your mind blanks, empty of anything other than the blissful feeling of him moving in and out of you at a brutal speed.
It feels like a tidal wave washes other you as you feel your release. Rough but so good, so smooth. Your legs shake, vibrating like the world is shaking beneath you. Bellamy groans once more, unable to contain how you’re making him feel.
Somehow he’s able to tease you even while his own impending release. You finally open your eyes to look at him, he only smirks at you as he continues, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, his move becoming sloppy even though he’s trying to remain the same—and you know, he’s close.
And then you feel it. Warm, filling your every inch. Coating your insides white. He slows, before coming to a stop. He drops on top of you and let out a breath.
“You’re heavy, you know?” You finally speak, tone teasing yet even just as breathless as before.
You both lay there, silence surrounding you. Until you hear a branch break—it’s far but close enough to cause discomfort.
You nod, letting him help you put your clothes back on. You can still feel his liquid leaking, soaking your panties. And it felt far too good. You look to him, nuzzled to his chest as you calm your body from the high.
“The moon is beautiful isn’t it?” He says, you remember him saying before all this.
You lift your head to meet his gaze, brows furrowed like he’s gone mad.
“You’ve already said that.”
“You don’t know what it means?”
You stare at him, then shake your head. It’s like he’s purposely speaking in riddles, trying to make you go more insane than you already are. He chuckle, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
You look at him, really look at him this time. It feels too soon to say it back but the feeling that floods through your body is enough to make you second guess.
“I love you too, Bellamy.”
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