#lexa's dick

[n1ghtwr1ter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

We knew you filthy sinners loved the smut last chapter, so have some more! The plot doesn’t intrude (literally) until the end. And as always, let me and @raedmagdon know what you think in the comments and in our ask boxes!

A curious warmth spread in Lexa’s chest, and it took her a moment to recognize it as amusement. It had been so long since she’d found anything funny that the feeling seemed unusual at first. Gradually, though, she began to smirk. Would Nia be infuriated to find out that only the night before, she had been the one holding Clarke at the end of a chain? It was exactly the sort of thing that would crawl under the Empress’s skin.

A knock on the door drew Lexa from her thoughts. She remained in bed, waiting, her stomach fluttering at the possibility that it might be Clarke returning. Perhaps, Lexa thought, she could convince her new lover to join her for a few stolen minutes before she was forced to return to Ontari’s ludus.

Although she pulled the silk sheets protectively around her body just in case, Lexa was relieved to see that it was indeed Clarke who entered the room. As soon as she saw her lover’s face, looking warm and golden without the pale powder of her makeup, Lexa let them fall again. Clarke’s smile brought the sun into the room and made Lexa forget all about shielding herself from view.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t be awake yet,” Clarke murmured, approaching the bed with a sway in her hips.

Heat blossomed in Lexa’s core. “Oh?”

“You fought a pauna yesterday and lived. I’m surprised you didn’t want to sleep for a year.” Clarke’s eyes did not hold much worry. They traveled from Lexa’s face to her shoulders, lingering without shame on her breasts.

“I feel rested,” Lexa said. Short sentences were all she could manage under the circumstances. Clarke had a way of stealing her words.

Clarke ran her tongue over her lower lip, drawing it between her teeth. Her gaze traveled lower still, to the portion of Lexa’s body still covered by the sheets. “Perhaps I had hoped to wake you myself.”

[n1ghtwr1ter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The only thing Clarke despised more than going to Empress Nia’s ‘celebrations’ was getting ready for one. Though the infamous palace dinner parties were loud, demanding, and often dangerous—even to the point of an execution or two—she could, at least, move her face and drink wine. Not so while her make up rested. The chalk foundation hadn’t yet settled and only one eyelid was outlined in kohl. Clarke squinted as she moved to the other side, focusing intently on the mirror.

What did Ontari mean by ‘entertainment’? Her tone had possessed obvious sexual intent, but could there be more? Was Nia planning something? Something that could put Lexa in danger yet again, even after her narrow brush with the pauna? That would be just like Nia. Give Lexa some other impossible task at the feast while she’s already injured and exhausted. And when she fails… less public outcry if she’s executed in private.

Worse still, there was only so much Clarke could do to defend her. She was no warrior, but even if she had been, she couldn’t defy Nia’s orders until the time was right. Without the proper political support, she would end up dead or worse - after watching Lexa’s execution.

Whatever Nia is planning, I need to make her see the value in letting Lexa live.

[n1ghtwr1ter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Yes, I know, an update! Be amazed. In this one, Lexa returns to the ring and has to face off against an...old friend. 

Once more, Lexa found herself waiting in a dim room, trying to block out the distant roar of the crowd. As holding cells went, it far more pleasant than some of the others she had been imprisoned in. The stench of sweat and piss was absent, and all she could smell was heat. She could feel it all around her, cloying and humid as it clung to her skin.

She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. Even from in here, she could taste the dryness of the sand hanging in the wet, thick air. It would probably rain soon, but before the guards had brought her indoors, there hadn't been a cloud in sight. She hoped she was right about the rain. It might give her an advantage on the battlefield. Fighting in awful weather conditions had been part of her Trikru training.

Then again, if I'm to fight anyone from Azgeda, they will have had the same training...

Lexa opened her eyes again. There was no use speculating before she had even seen her opponent. She had been led to believe that most gladiators were told about their matches in advance, but Doctore—or, rather, Ontari—had not seen fit to mention it. Technically speaking, she shouldn't have been fighting yet at all, since she wasn't officially a gladiator of Ontari's ludus.

Apparently, exceptions could be made.

Briefly, Lexa wondered if Clarke had tried to stall for more time. Her domina had seemed concerned for her safety in the arena, but their need was also urgent. The sooner Lexa fought, and won, her battles, the sooner they would be able to put their plans for rebellion into motion. Or perhaps she was overthinking things. Perhaps the order for her to 'perform' had come straight from Nia herself, and Clarke hadn't had much choice but to agree.

The timing didn't really matter. Lexa had no choice but to win.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the clank of metal and heavy footfalls. Someone was approaching. A moment later, the doors were opened, letting sunshine stream in through the thick grill of the gate. Lexa squinted to protect her eyes, struggling to adjust. She couldn't see much beyond the metal hatchwork but the swirl of golden sand.

"And here she is!" she heard the far-off announcer cry without the wooden doors in the way. "Spared from death only by our Queen's merciful hand, she is here to fight for your entertainment today! The savage, vicious Stallion of Tondisi!"

[n1ghtwr1ter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The small girl, Tris, brought Doctore a practice sword, and she took it, holding it in a deceptively easy grip. Lexa felt herself tense up with nervous agitation as Doctore began to circle, and her own feet followed the other woman’s instinctively. She wasn’t even bothering to hold her weapon in guard, preferring instead to observe Lexa with a bright gaze. Her apparent nonchalance made fury coil in Lexa’s chest, but she released it with a couple of deep, slow breaths. This was likely what Doctore wanted—to make her so annoyed that her limbs locked up and her footwork grew sloppy.

You’re better than this, she told herself, at once furious and concerned at herself. Don’t let her get to you.

Once Lexa’s movements had evened out, becoming nearly as fluid as Doctore’s own, the older woman nodded approvingly. “It appears that you are not entirely an untrained pup,” she said, eliciting a few snorts from the other gladiators. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Quick as a striking snake, Doctore’s sword lashed out at Lexa, a brutal blow that, if they had been using real blades, would have slit her face in half. Lexa brought up her own sword to block it just in time, the force of the attack sending shockwaves down her arm. She knew that she wasn’t quite in peak condition—her time in chains, coupled with how little food she’d been given in captivity, had seen to that—but even so, Doctore was strong, and incredibly fast. Lexa knew that she’d need to be stronger and faster in order to prevail, but with a sinking feeling, she realized that she wasn’t quite sure she could.

Just as swiftly as she’d struck, the other woman spun away, leaving Lexa’s counterattack reaching for her uselessly. Doctore punished her overextension with a stinging blow across her ribs, making Lexa hiss in pain. She was quick to turn and bring her guard back up, but the laughter in Doctore’s eyes made her burn with embarrassment.

“Sloppy. I wouldn’t have thought the former Commander would be so careless.”

It’s just like training, Lexa told herself, circling the older warrior warily. Your instructors taunted you similarly. They wanted to get a rise out of you, to make you so angry that you made a mistake—and she’s doing just the same. Don’t let her. When Doctore’s sword flicked out at her again, Lexa was quick to block it, but spun away to avoid the trainer’s follow-up attack. This time, Doctore’s look was approving.

“So, I see you have more sense than to just strike out needlessly, and to block each one of my blows. That’s good. You will need to conserve your strength in the ring.”

Lexa remembered her fights in the amphitheatre, how the sun had beat down ceaselessly on her back and shoulders, how sweat had poured off her to mingle with blood on the sand, and yet the warriors had just kept coming. It was good advice, and yet Doctore did not seem keen on following it. She continued to strike at Lexa, alternating powerful blows with quick, probing strikes. Lexa quickly gleaned the older woman’s body language, learning to anticipate which was which, using that knowledge as best she could to block the latter and avoid the former. Even so, she soon found herself panting, dripping with sweat and desperate for a respite, while Doctore seemed nearly as fresh as she was when they’d begun.

I need to find some way to end this, or I’ll wind up even more humiliated than I already am... and more bruised besides.

[n1ghtwr1ter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

"The former Commander Lexa. Stallion of Tondisi."

As usual, Lexa gritted her teeth at the name, but bit back a response.

"You will get no special treatment here, little colt. This ludus answers to Ontari, Empress Nia, and the might of Azgeda. Your Skaikru sponsor will not save you. If you choose to be insubordinate, I will not hesitate to slit your throat. Your accidental victory in the arena will have been for nothing."

Lexa stayed quiet. She simply held Doctore's eyes, not challenging, but not submitting either. At last, she gave a small nod.

"Then it seems we have an understanding."

The woman withdrew a key, and to Lexa's surprise, she watched her manacles fall onto the dust at her feet. Lexa rolled her wrists, testing her new freedom. It came as a relief. Her arms had been bound for far too long.

"Tris," Doctore called, and the mouse of a girl came scurrying over once more.

"Doctore?"

"Hand Lexa a practice sword. Training begins now."

So I knowwwww this is late, but it’s long! I hope that makes up for it. Let @raedmagdon and me know what you think!

[n1ghtwr1ter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Dark. Hot. Dripping. Her humid cell stank of sweat and piss and worse, but Lexa didn't retch or gag. She remained perfectly still with her back braced against the scratchy stone wall. With her eyes closed, she breathed deeply in a fruitless effort to ignore the smell and calm her racing heart.

As the Heda of her people, she had never feared death. She had imagined it so many times that it felt more like a memory. An inevitability. She had been raised with the expectation of sacrifice, with the knowledge that it was just as likely she would die gloriously for her people as it was that she would lead them through the decades. The lives of Trikru leaders were often short and brutal.

But she had not expected this.

Her nails dug into her dirt-caked palms and she gritted her teeth. Nia was too cruel to grant her an honorable death on the battlefield. Instead, she was reduced to this—a spectacle of 'entertainment' for the citizens of Polis to gawk at, to shriek at in their shrill voices. Even now, Lexa could hear the distant roar. She couldn't make out the words, but she could imagine them.

They were calling for her blood: the blood of the woman who had dared to defy their Empress, the blood of the Stallion of Tondisi.

@raedmagdon

[clexa-sin]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The 100 (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa Characters: Lexa (The 100), Clarke Griffin Additional Tags: Smut, Fluff, Confused Lexa, Lexa’s Dick, G!p Lexa, Sleepy Sex, Sleepy Kisses, Sleepy Cuddles Summary:

Clarke’s smile is permanent on her face. She wakes cuddled in Lexa’s bare arms, chest only covered by a thin white beater, legs tangled together and constant warmth radiating around her.

And then they end up having sex.

Just read it.

[n1ghtwr1ter]

I like to think that Lexa's size is around 6 to 7 inches long, no idea about girth, but around this length in all your stories!

Sounds about right XP Girth-wise, I’d say “satisfying stretch” is a good descriptor. But one person’s telephone pole is another person’s twig, so I like to leave it up to your imagination ;P