Chapter Text
Alpha, Tell Me
If you’re really there
Don’t make me fall in love again if you won’t be here, next year
🎄🎄🎄
Archaic.
That’s Clarke’s favorite word to describe the world around her. She’s read about countries in Europe where Alpha’s don’t run everything. Where Betas and Omegas are seen as valued members of society instead of underlings Alpha’s have to look out for.
But not in America. Definitely not in a conservative state like New Hampshire. Nope, here Clarke is still beholden to her family… and the Alpha of her family. Her pack. Legally and socially.
It’s utter bullshit.
Who is, unfortunately, her shitty Uncle Russell. If only her Mom we’re the oldest– though she’s not sure if that would make much of a difference for her.
After her phone call, she’s actually 100% sure that wouldn’t make much of a difference for her.
Sitting on the park bench, Clarke stares at her phone, willing the damn thing to explode on the spot as Abby’s words float in her head.
We’re just worried about you, sweetheart. Being a… you know… and all it’s going to be that much harder to find a mate. Not to mention how you’re letting yourself go at school, honey. Josie means well when she meddles, you know it’s in her Omega nature to care. We just want you to be happy. Russell just wants you to be happy.
I am happy, Mom. I’m doing what I want to do, I don’t need a mate. I told Uncle Russell I wanted to go to school, I told him–
You’re the only one in the family not settled, Clarke. We worry. We’re allowed to worry.
I’m fine.
I know it’s hard for you to understand this… being…
A Beta, Mom. You can say it.
And there’s no way in hell she can be happy alone, evidently. She’s already just a Beta. Doesn’t need single unable to mingle added to her list of deficiencies.
Cursing her stupid biology for the fortieth time today, she stands up from the park bench and starts aggressively walking towards her next class, slamming her boots into the mush of melting snow on the path. Muttering under her breath as she passes under the wreaths and lights strung up around the park.
Fucking Christmastime.
She rolls her eyes at Santa Baby blaring from some coffee shop’s doors and pulls her green– not green for Christmas just green because she likes green, okay?-- longline sweater down over her thighs. Her leggings are her third favorite pair, her socks thick, the same color of the oatmeal she’d shoved in her mouth that morning.
“Sign up for our Holi-date, Find Your Mate event, Thursday at seven!” Some shrill voice stops her, stepping into her path. “You should– oh.”
Clarke looks up to see Harper standing in front of her. She sorta knows her. They run in a seperate circles that overlap at the local dive bar Octaiva makes her go to on Friday nights and the odd party that isn’t A/O exclusive.
“Hi, Clarke!” She recovers quickly, she’s actually nice for an Omega and she has a backbone. That doesn’t mean they’re friends. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you and this is an A/O thing. But we’re having a Beta meet up next week–”
“It’s okay, Harper.” Clarke waves her off with a fake smile. The other girl is slightly taller than her but shrinks under her gaze, shoulders scrunching up in embarrassment as if she can control Clarke’s designation. “I’m heading home for the Holidays anyway.”
“Oh good!” Harper croons, awkwardly reaching out to pat her should only to think twice about it. Clarke’s gained quite the reputation for being standoffish.
Or a cold bitch, they all think she’s a cold bitch.
Not that she can be blamed– as Octavia reminds her when they get wine drunk and watch hours of murder documentaries. When Clarke drunkenly lets a little bit of vulnerability show.
You see– Clarke, by all means, shouldn’t exist. Everyone in her family, for as far back as they can trace, has been either an Alpha or an Omega. Never has a mere Beta sprouted on their family tree. Her Uncle Russell even insisted on a paternity test when she turned eighteen and still hadn’t presented as either, much to Abby’s unending embarrassment. All of them go on and on about it. How dare she spit on their pedigree like this!
Of course that embarrassment is Clarke's fault, it's her personal defect that keeps her from presenting.
The Lightbourne/Griffins don’t take well to failure.
Not on such epic proportions.
“Well, I’ll let you go.” Harper smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes, they dart behind her at the small group of Omegas watching the interaction with displeased expressions. Most A/Os don’t waste their time with Betas. Octavia is a rare breed.
And then you get A/Os like Octavia’s older brother– who gives her all the wrong kinds of attention.
It’s not like Betas are rare by any stretch, in fact, it’s the opposite. The Alpha Elite likes to keep it that way, makes them feel special and the snotty Omegas keep up the charade even if they live basically as breeding machines for Alphas– they get to be decked in Cartier and Dior so who cares that everyone thinks they’re useless besides the thing between their legs, right?
Harper dances off with her obnoxious Christmas light necklace swaying around the top of her tacky sweater.
Holly Jolly indeed.
Her phone buzzes and she looks down to see her cousin Josie’s face lighting up the screen. Knowing the persistent bitch will just keep calling, she answers as she continues to walk.
“What?” Clarke snaps, already feeling like the first word out of Josie's mouth will throw her over the edge of sanity.
Josie huffs through the line. “Why all up in arms, Clarky? Aren’t you glad to hear from me?” Her soft, manipulative whine twists something in Clarkes insides. Dissolving some of her anger. Fucking biology, even Betas were wired to not make Omegas upset. Clarke pinches herself to make the feeling go away.
“Sorry, I just got off a call with my mom and she’s all over me again about–”
“Oh, whatever,” Josie interrupts, back to her rude self. “I’m just calling to tell–” warn her, probably “-- you my boyfriend is coming for Christmas!” Clarke nods even though she can’t see her, Abby already gushed about them for forty minutes on the phone before digging another unending grave of disappointment for Clarke to be cast into.
She does a whoop de doo with her finger. “Great, can’t wait to meet him.”
“Oh, Clarky, he’s alllll Alpha. His name is Gabe and he’s huge–” She holds the phone away from her ear for a second as Josie goes on and on about how sexy her new Alpha is. As far as Clarke is concerned there is one man who embodies the term– but she’s not allowed to think about him like that. Being a Beta and all. Even when he gets a little drunk and their bickering turns to almost flirting.
Plus, Bellamy is hot.
Too hot.
And Clarke is– well she feels , average at best.
Of course, Josie is oblivious to her inner turmoil. “So you better not get any of your gross Beta pheromones near him, do you hear me?--” Gross? Beta’s tend to have a calming scent, neutral. God, Josie’s living in the stone age “-- I’ve already talked to Daddy, he says if you fuck it up he won’t let you back in the house again. Hell, he didn’t even want you to come this year. Said you were barely family and we should just disown you– wash our hands, ya know? I still can’t believe the doctors didn’t find a defect–”
Clarke stops, listening to her cousin basically call her useless over the phone.
It dawns on her. Disowned.
Her own Uncle is threatening to disown her.
For something out of her control.
“Josie,” she chokes out, needing her cousin to stop before she starts to have a panic attack on the Quad.
Amazingly, her cousin stops. “Oh, Clarky, I know you’re too smart to fuck it up. I just wanted to warn you. I’m being a good friend.”
“I know,” she whispers, trying to hold in the tears. “I just have class… gotta go.”
“See you Saturday!” Josie sings, hanging up. Clarke knows she thinks she didn’t hear the snicker. Heartless Bitch. Weren’t Omegas supposed to be nice and nurturing? Maybe Josie’s the one with the fucking defect.
Unable to sit in a huge lecture hall right now and talk about Sigmund Freud of all people, Clarke rounds the building to find a spot hidden by some shrubs. She sinks down against the cool brink, letting the damp mulch bite into her jeans.
The chill of December helps calm her nerves.
She smells snow, only a few days away. As if by habit she lifts her wrist up to her nose, knowing it's where her first gland would appear as either an A or O.
As usual. Nothing.
If she gets cut off, she’ll have no money for school. Her dreams of being an Art Therapist will go down the drain.
“Couldn’t you just be fucking normal–” She bangs her head against the brick, releasing a sigh of from the pain. Somehow it helps, it takes her mind off things. But that's a dangerous road to go down.
“You okay there, princess?” A familiar, deep voice startles her from her pity fest.
Clarke looks up to see Bellamy Blake– Octavia’s rude older brother– standing over the shrubs and glaring down at her with a pinched expression she’d dare to call concern. He’s huge, all Alpha and one of the oldest on campus that’s not a professor. Late start. With his curls and his freckles, he looks sweet enough that if it wasn't for his sheer size she’d think he were an Omega. His shoulders puff out as he waits for a response, not used to being ignored.
It’s also his super patient and agreeable attitude that shatters any idea that he could be anything other than what he is.
An Alpha asshole.
Well too fucking bad, I’m not in the mood to play nice. She rarely is with him. He has this weird intensity about him that half the time she thinks he’s fucking with her and half the time it seems like he genuinely cares about her.
Bellamy clears his throat and raises a brow, waiting. Fucking Alphas and their entitlement. As if she owes him her thoughts and emotions. She knows Octavia is under his umbrella– him being the older Alpha– but she sure as shit isn’t. He’s not in charge of her.
“Princess,” he urges gruffly. Annoyed at her disregarding his question.
Clarke doesn’t subscribe to that bullshit. “Go away, Blake.”
Bellamy smirks like she’s just said the funniest thing ever said and shuffles through the two scratchy plants before plopping down next to her in the mulch.
“This is not you going away,” she grumbles, hugging her knees and noticing a hole in the material. Fuck, her budget is already stretched thin this month.
“Yeah, like you’re the boss of me,” he teases, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. His shoulder presses into hers– just barely– and he’s so warm. It’s tempting to just lean her head against his shoulder and let herself be soothed by that warmth, by the sweet cologne he always wears. “What’s eating you?”
“Like you care,” Clarke snorts, picking at her thumb nail to snap her back to reality. A terrible habit, as Abby loves to remind her, so does her Aunt Simone. At least she stopped chewing them. All throughout high school they’d be red and bleeding–
Bellamy catches her wrist and pulls it away so she stops picking. The Alpha move makes her hackles rise and he raises a brow, daring her to challenge him. Clarke just flashes him an annoyed sneer and yanks her hand back… trying to ignore how his touch heats up her skin. He doesn’t let go.
“O cares about you so de facto, I have to care. She’s my pack so… so, just tell me , or it’s gonna bother me all day,” he persists, finally releasing her wrist. The order doesn’t escape her notice.
“Is that an Alpha command?” She snipes, staring at her red cuticle, but not having enough guts to start picking at it again.
Bellamy lets out a throaty laugh and shakes his head. “Wouldn’t work on you anyway, princess.”
Is she crazy or does he sound… wistful? No, that’s crazy. Absolutely insane.
Does she think about him when she mastrubates sometimes? Sure. But he’s an Alpha, he’ll want a pliant little Omega to spoil and fill up with pups– not some ambitious Beta who has no interest in settling down anytime–
“Earth to Clarke,” he sings, waving a huge hand in front of her face. The round rough skin of his wrist gland taunting her.
“My family… my pack… they’re… complicated,” she winces, knowing that’s putting it lightly.
Bellamy nods, watching her carefully. He’s always doing that, watching her like she’ll vanish from thin air if he looks away. Even when he’s screaming at her from across the classroom and the rest of the students look on slack jawed as a mere Beta argues with one of campus's top Alphas. His gaze always has… intent. Most of the other students seem almost afraid of him, there are some crazy rumors about how he’s killed people for money or ran a brothel in Polis, the city over. Clarke thinks it's all a load of hogwash, considering she’s watched him curse out Plato for daring to even exist as he sips on peppermint tea at her kitchen table with his nerd glasses on.
Still, always watching her.
It’s definitely the wrong kind of attention from an Alpha. Especially an Alpha who’s not her Alpha.
Sometimes she thinks he might rip her in half and sometimes…
But Clarke’s not fooled. The closest she ever got to being desired was another Beta named Finn freshman year who cheated on her with a perfect– tall, model pretty, legs for days– girl and then called her fat when he dumped her. So she gained the freshman 15, what's the big deal? She’s naturally a curvier girl and sometimes wonders if the crazy diets she was on in her teens stunted her presentation.
“So what’s set off the notorious Lightbourne/Griffin clan this time?” He nudges her shoulder with a smirk, actively listening. He knows some of her history, being Octavia’s brother he’s just always… around. It’s kinda weird, but she guesses it’s just an Alpha thing. Looking out for his pack of two. They like to take care of people. They’re supposed to at least.
Clarke feels fresh tears bead at the corner of her eyes and wipes them away quickly, before he can see her go full sob fest. “My Uncle is really mad I never presented. He told my bitch cousin that if I fuck up at all this Christmas–” hiccup “--they’re gonna–” hiccup “--disown me.”
Bellamy curses under his breath and leans his head back against the brick. “That’s beyond shitty, Clarke.”
“Tell me about it,” she sniffs, wiping her snot with her sleeve. It’s not like she has to worry about Bellamy being attracted to her.
“What do they mean by fuck up, though?” He asks, leaning his chin towards her as his face twists in confusion.
“Oh, I don’t know–” she waves a hand “-- Josie will say I got my gross Beta pheromones near her new boyfriend and blame that on why he won’t want to mate her, not just her being a massive cun–” Clarke chokes on the word and clears her throat– “they think I’m defective, ugly– just wrong. That I’ll never find a mate. And therefore I’m a failure to the family legacy. It doesn’t matter that I’m top of my class or instead of getting stuffed up with pups at 21, I’m going to have a career.” Her shoulder shrugs slightly, like it’s no big deal even if the pinch in her lips says how big a fucking deal it is.
Bellamy hums, processing her words.
“You know a sure way to shut them up?” He asks, smirking slightly. There’s a devilish glint in his eye that makes her stomach do little swoops.
“Putting eyedrops in Josie's wine so she shits herself all night?” Clarke offers, shaking her head with a smile.
“They took that ingredient out like 10 years ago, princess, think bigger,” Bellamy laughs. “Show up to Christmas with an Alpha on your arm and give them all a metaphorical fuck you to their prehistoric ideals.”
Clarke barks a laugh. “Where would I find an Alpha who would give me the time of day? And this short notice– it’s Christmas for fucks sake!”
“I’ll do it.”
Her mind short circuits as she turns like a whip and meets his dark eyes. Fuck, she hates looking into his eyes, they’re earthy and foreboding and promising of things she can’t have. It makes her stupid little heart stutter.
“You’ll do what?” She has to clarify to be sure she’s not having a stroke.
Bellamy laughs again, fisting his hoodie over his hands to protect them from the cold– of course he’d be in just a hoodie and jeans in almost 30 degree weather– Alphas run hot. “I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend or whatever, get your family off your back for a bit.”
Clarke scoffs and he frowns. “Don’t you have someone–” an Omega, a pack “-- to be with for the Holidays?”
Bellamy shrugs. “O is going home with her boyfriend and, as you know, our Mom passed away a few years back so it’s either this or I’m third wheeling with Miller and Jackson.”
Clarke nods, considering. “My family is super traditional. They might not even believe an Alpha would date a Beta.”
“That’s so fucking dumb, all designations date all designations. Hell, I’ve dated Betas, other Alphas.”
Clarke pinks at that. Octavia calls him Bella-whore behind his back. “Tell that to my Aunt Simone, she might combust on sight.”
“Oh, I look forward to it then.” He grins, it’s a touch feral. Bellamy gets off on sticking it to the rich and privileged– she’s gotten that much from his arguments in class. And his drunk ramblings at the bar. “I’m always down to cause a little chaos.”
“Why are you being nice to me?” Clarke asks, turning her chin to rest it on her hunched shoulder so she can look him dead in the eye.
Bellamy shrugs, biting back a smile. “We play at hating each other but we don’t actually… right?” Someone slap her silly, does Alpha Bellamy Blake look… unsure?
“No,” she soothes, patting the hand resting on his leg. “We don’t hate each other.”
“Good, then… let's do this. Merry Christmas, Bellamy Blake is here to fuck up your assbackwards thinking.”
Clarke watches him, his eyes challenging her. Her competitive nature flares up from the look he’s boring into her, like she can’t handle it.
“Yeah. Let’s do this,” she agrees.
The knowing smirk on his handsome face makes her regret it a second later.
🎄🎄🎄
Clarke regrets her decision once again as Bellamy sits on the couch in her living room, waving Octavia out the door with her boyfriend, Lincoln. She stands in her second favorite pair of leggings and an oversized sweater that lets her sports bra peek out as it slouches off her shoulder. Leaning in the doorway of her messy bedroom, she watches him settle into their curbside pickup couch. Manspreading. Shocker. Her socks have mini wiener dogs all over them– not exactly a sexy fit.
He looks great– of course– in a green and red flannel open over a black t-shirt and dark jeans. Even his black leather sneakers look chic. Clarke is planning on wearing her L.L. Bean duck boots and now she wishes could conjure up something nicer.
A throaty sound steals her from her racing thoughts.
“So, sweetie. ” Bellamy’s grin could blind a weaker human.
“Ew, no to sweetie .” She waves the word away, diving back in her messy room to grab her duffle. Bellamy snags his duffle from behind the sofa as she comes back into the living room. He told Octavia he was spending the Holiday with Miller again, knowing she’d read too much into all this.
They’re just sort of friends/enemies/rivals helping each other out.
He passes by her and takes her duffle, shoving both of them onto one huge shoulder. Clarke grabs her coat and beanie, tucking it over her frizzy hair as she follows him out. She gets a whiff of his cologne as he passes, something like coriander and oranges, a hint of lavender and rich cinnamon. A part of her always wants to ask what the brand is so she can go out and buy a bottle, soak her pillow in it, pour it over her naked body, bath in the damn stuff every night–
“You ready?”
Clarke blinks up at him, his eyes hooded as he looks down at her, brow twisted up.
“Yeah, let's go. It’s a long drive.”
🎄🎄🎄
The drive is too long.
First, they argue over the music. Clarke wants to listen to the new London Royal Synphony’s Holiday album. Bellamy insists on 50s Christmas Classics.
Second, they argue over the latest topic in their Early Art History Class. Dorics are not prettier than Corinthian, thank you very much.
Third, they get real quiet as they stew in their equal level of stubbornness.
With only an hour left, Bellamy turns up the heat on her side as they enter a swarm of flurries. She smiles at the kind gesture. Arkadia is more northern than ARC University and therefore, much colder. He’s probably just practicing being nice to her.
Clarke watches the snow, letting it calm her down. She always loved winter. Loved how clean everything looks, how it’s like starting over. They’d finally landed on a playlist of Christmas favorites with both of their preferences mixed in. I’ll Be Home For Christmas as sung by Leslie Odom Jr. wafts through the air like honey.
“So…” he starts, glancing at her, she almost doesn’t realize he’s spoken as his rich baritone meshes with the music.
“So…” Clarke answers, not knowing what to say. She warned her Mom that someone was coming home with her, but didn’t mention it was a significant other– let alone an Alpha. Abby’s been texting her for more information. But she knows as soon as she tells her they’ll get a call and she’ll demand to know everything, blowing up her phone for the rest of the ride. Bringing home a Beta boyfriend– or god forbid, a girlfriend – would throw everyone up in arms.
But this. This will start absolute chaos.
“We should make some ground rules,” Bellamy finally says, watching the road.
She hums, a non committal sound. Ground rules, that sounds good.
“I should probably try to scent you a little too,” he adds and it takes a moment for her to catch up.
Clarke reaches and turns the music down. “What? Why? It won’t even work.”
Why the hell would he want to rub his neck or wrist– or someone kill her right now, his mouth – on her neck and wrists if he didn’t have to?
Bellamy shrugs. “It’s an Alpha thing.”
“Descriptive,” she grumbles. “Fine. Just a little.”
“Afraid you’ll like it?” He teases, eyebrows wriggling. Without wasting a beat he grabs her wrist from where it’s resting on her thigh and rubs his thumb over her non-existent gland. It sends a few sparks through her, foreign feelings she doesn’t like.
Clarke yanks her hand back, rubbing over the spot his thumb pressed. “Don’t do that shit without asking.”
“Alpha–”
“And don’t say Alpha thing, dickhead,” she scolds, pouting as she crosses her arms. “This isn’t the stone age.”
Bellamy laughs and pats her thigh, his paw of a hand encompassing her whole leg.
Then he doesn’t move it.
Why is he not moving it?
“Bellamy?” She squeaks.
“Hm?” He stares at the road, his thumb starting to rub at the thin material of her leggings.
“Your hand.”
“That is my hand, very good.”
“I will rip your intestines out through your ass if you don’t move it right now,” she threatens, not liking how the heat of his palm is spreading up through her leg.
Bellamy nods, considering. “I’d like to see you try, princess.”
She covers his hand with her own to move it. She’s gonna move it. But she can’t seem to make herself do it.
It feels good .
Is she touch starved or something?
“Clarke, it’s okay. My touch is hot wired to sooth, even for Betas. I can tell you're nervous,” he explains gently. “Let me help.”
She nods.
“Didn’t your pack Alpha ever do this with you? When you were sad or upset?” He asks, honest curiosity in his voice. Pack Alpha’s are supposed to be like the parent figure for everyone.
Russell has always treated her like an outsider. She’s not sure she would ever even want affection from him.
“No,” she whispers, trying to think about the pitiful pinch between his brows. “Can we move on? I don’t want to talk about it.”
Bellamy nods, squeezing her thigh again.
“How do you feel about kissing?” He asks, glancing at her again.
Clarke flushes but nods. “Fine, just no tongue.”
“Tongue? What are we, fourteen?” He teases, squeezing her thigh yet again , hard enough to make her flinch slightly, but then that warm, syrupy feeling returns and she relaxes back into her seat. “If I’m kissing you, I’m kissing you the way I kiss.”
“Fine, whatever,” she feels sleepy with his hand on her, comfortable, safe. Why has he never touched her before? She smells that cologne again too, it’s enveloping her, sticking to the roof of her mouth. Cinnamon and oranges… it tastes like Christmastime itself. She giggles a little as she thinks about what he said. “Just easy on the PDA. I’m not– I’m not the best actress.”
“Okay, fair,” he says, smiling with her. “Trust me, they won’t have it in them to be mean to you with me standing there. No one pisses off an Alpha by shit talking his mate.”
Clarke jolts forward. “Whoa, whoa, not your mate, Blake.”
Bellamy rolls his eyes. “I know that, princess, but that's what we're playing at. I can still mate you even if you’re a Beta.” He says it so easily it makes her skin tingle. She has a small mating glad on the back of her neck, it’s much smaller than an A or Os, but still there. Her Uncle calls it “soft mating” and thinks it’s unnatural. You know, with how progressive he is. “Hell, since your family is so old school your uncle might even see me as trying to steal away one of his own. That could prove to be an interesting dinner conversation.”
In some ancient cultures that shall not be named– cough , Rome, cough – Alphas would take Beta consorts, since the mating bond isn’t as intense. Only to discard them when they finally found an Omega. There were even some brutal stories about Alphas only keeping children born by their Beta consorts who presented as A/Os, killing off the others out of shame.
Cheery shit.
But packs have always consisted of all three designations, at least according to her Designation History class from last semester. Though packs these days are usually family units instead of actual packs . She doesn’t think Russell has any Beta’s under his wing– he’d gag at the thought.
That class made her preen a bit. Knowing he’ s the unnatural one.
“Fine,” she huffs. Leaning her head against the window since his touch is making her head fuzzy. She hasn’t been in this close proximity to an Alpha who isn’t family besides Ocativa (and Octavia doesn’t touch her like this ) … Well, ever. “They’re all going to shit themselves.”
“I wish we could record it. Put it on tiktok.” He grins devilishly, his curls dancing around his cheeks as they hit a small dip in the road and the car jumps. It mesmerizes her for some odd reason. “Minor PDA, kissing, and scenting. I’m going to use pet names too so don’t grimace each time I do. Oh, and you should call me Alpha.”
Clarke jerks her head up from its relaxed position– eyes wide as saucers– if she keeps doing this she’s going to pull a muscle in her neck for fucks sake. “No fucking way.”
“Non-negotiable, sweetheart.” That stupid grin is still plastered on his face. The bastard’s enjoying himself. “We’re playing at me being your Alpha, so you have to address me as such to make it believable. If you refuse to call me that, they’ll see through this in a second. Designations are here for a reason, there’s a biological draw to a particular pecking order, a give and take that allows us all to flourish–” he waves a hand around, brows pinched “--I know you hate to think about your biology, but if we’re in a romantic– a sexual relationship, then you have to acknowledge me as your Alpha. Therefore acknowledging to your Uncle that you’re not his domain anymore.”
Her cheeks are the color of poinsettias, hot and embarrassed as he taps his other hand on the wheel, waiting. “Isn’t that the opposite of what we're doing though?” She argues. “The whole point of this is to prove to them I’m not hopeless and I could find a mate one day so they’ll finish paying for school and not disown me!”
“It’ll cause him to get territorial, Clarke,” he answers like she’s a child that needs him to slowly guide her through the problem in front of her. “Then he’ll try and prove that you’re still his pack.”
“Fine…” she mumbles. It’s manipulative as hell, but just might work.
“Fine…?” He goads, the asshole. She knew it was a bad idea to do this with him, she may not survive it.
Screw pride, it won’t keep her from getting cut off and disowned by the people that should love her no matter what. “Fine… Alpha ,” she whispers, the word sending a shiver down her spine.
Bellamy hums deep in his chest as his fingers dig into her thigh a little harder. “Good girl.”
The praise lights a heat in her belly and she sucks in a breath, unable to look at him.
What the fuck is happening to her?
🎄🎄🎄
They arrive at her Mom’s house around six. He parks the car in the huge curved driveway and comes around to get her door after fixing her with a glare when she protests. Clarke lets him do the Alpha thing, even admitting that it’s kind of nice how attentive he is.
She has to remind herself that he’s just playing a part.
“You ready, princess?” He asks as he slings their duffles over his shoulder and places a hand on her collarbone, his thumb dangerously close to her throat.
Clarke swallows and nods, turning to head for the front door.
But his hand doesn’t move and instead, pushes her back until she slams into the side of the car. He keeps her in place, leaning down and for a crazy moment she thinks he’s going to kiss her, but instead he passes her lips and latches his mouth onto her neck, lapping at the spot where her gland would be if she had it.
Even so, liquid fuzz seeps into her body, a soft sigh escaping her lips as he drags his tongue across her skin. “That's it, feels good, right?” His voice sounds far away, yet right in front of her. It’s all around her.
“Yes, Alpha,” she murmurs, earning a delighted growl from his throat as he tangles his hand in her hair, ripping off her beanie with his teeth so he can clutch the strands in his fist before turning her head and latching onto the other side of her neck.
Clarke squeaks as he sucks a mark where her other gland would be. Her hands fist in his open flannel. Fuck, she knows Alphas like this shit, she just didn’t realize she likes this shit. “Bellamy– wait—” she stutters out, putting a palm on his shoulder.
It’s too much, too much, not enough–
He lifts up his head and pins her with almost black eyes. It takes a moment for him to return to himself, fingers loosening. Shaking his head he smiles as the familiar, forest brown returns to his irises, at ease once again, dragging his thumb over the mark on her neck.
“Looks good on you, princess.”
Clarke awkwardly laughs, swatting his hand away, but he just catches her wrist and licks the thin skin under her palm, making her jump. Before she can tell him to fuck off, he does it with the other one. A childish laugh escapes him as he dances away from her following swats and curses.
“Don’t do that again–” she shoves him and he grins, picking up her beanie from where it fell and brushing off the fresh snow before pulling it back over her hair. It causes a warmth in her chest, him fixing her up, tucking fly aways into her hat.
It takes her a moment to realize she can smell his cologne even stronger now, like it’s all over her skin and in her nose. She shakes her head like the action could dislodge the scent, thinking it must have just rubbed off during his little Alpha moment there.
“Well, do I smell like an Alpha’s girlfriend?” She asks, going for teasing in her tone but it comes off with more trepidation.
Bellamy smiles and hooks the arm not holding the duffles around her shoulders, leading her up the flagstone path to the house. Just as they reach the door, he leans down and whispers in her ear. “You smell like you’re mine .”
The door swings open as if on cue and Abby Griffin stands there in a crisp white sweater dress, her new husband– Marcus– in a professor-esc brown suit behind her. They look like they stepped out of a J. Crew catalog.
And they stare at Bellamy like he has seven heads.
Clarke already feels smug. It’s pretty hard to keep said smugness off her face.
This is her moment. “Mom, Marcus, this is Bellamy… my boyfriend.”
Abby’s mouth opens and closes and opens again. Her mother’s incredulous tone would be funny in any other situation. “ Boyfriend ?”
“ Abby, ” Marcus scolds in the same tone, stepping around her to offer his hand. “Hi, Bellamy, welcome to our home. Let's get you two out of the cold.”
Clarke shoots him a grateful smile as he steps aside to let them in. Abby follows, still staring at Bellamy like she just let the Devil himself into her home before her eyes dart to Clarke.
All Clarke’s smugness vanishes when she sees the pissed off look in her Mother’s eyes. “Young lady, over here,” she all about growls. Alpha hackles coming up.
Bellamy removes his arm from around Clarke’s shoulders and raises a brow at her, silently asking, ``Are you good?”
She nods and follows her Mother into the formal dining room with a slump in her shoulders.
Abby spins around, closing the french doors that will under no circumstance keep Bellamy and Marcus from hearing them.
“Clarke Griffin, what on God's green earth do you think you’re doing?” Abby seethes. Smoke should be coming out of her ears. Her face is so red. It’s almost comical.
Clarke crosses her arms, going on the defensive. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”
“This is clearly a sham and I don’t appreciate you thinking you can–”
“Are you kidding me?” She yells, all her resentment and anger bubbling up as her Mom keeps looking at her like she’s the most idiotic person to ever exist. “He’s handsome and an Alpha so it has to be fake right?” Clarke feels latent tears prick her eyes but holds back. Years of insecurity threatening to climb back up the hole she tossed it into. She learned long ago, it’s no use crying in front of her Mother.
Abby scoffs. “Clarke, don’t take it personally. It’s biology, it won’t work and that Alpha–” she waves her hands around, not having another else to say but meaning– he wouldn’t want you.
“This is great, Mom, really. You can’t even be happy for me.” She shakes her head, a tear escaping despite her efforts.
Maybe because she’s right.
“Honey, I want you to be happy, but this is– it’s just–”
“What?!”
“It’s not natural, Clarke. What’s next? Are you telling me he’s going to soft mate you? Give up on ever finding his Omega? When he does he’ll leave you in the dust and–” Abby growls, literally growls. “It’s just–”
“Bellamy cares about me,” Clarke argues, voice strained. “I thought you’d be happy. I thought– I thought this is what you wanted. Me to find someone.”
“But that Alpha is–”
“Would you be happier if I brought home a Beta? Uncle Russell can barely stand me let alone another one of my kind .”
“That’s a bit dramatic, Clarke.”
“More dramatic than insisting my very first real relationship is a sham because you don’t think I deserve a good looking, caring man?”
Abby deflates, her shoulders sagging. Shaking her head, she fixes Clarke with a meaningful stare. “This better be real, Clarke. If your Uncle finds out you touted a strange Alpha around as some kind of scheme to get back at us… let's just say he won’t be pleased.”
That’s exactly what she’s doing but Abby doesn’t need to know that. Neither does her Uncle.
“It’s real,” she lies.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Clarke breathes, amazed the fight didn’t last two hours.
“I mean I can smell him all over you,” Abby shrugs and then scrunches up her nose like she’s smelling rotten eggs. “Just be careful.”
“I am, Mom. I… I really like him,” it tastes like vinegar to say but she knows she’ll be saying it alot over the week.
Her Mother simply offers a curt nod.
When they walk into the kitchen and living room, Marcus and Bellamy are laughing like they’re old pals. The older Omega pats Bellamy’s back and nods at the women walking in the room.
“Bellamy, I apologize for my outburst back there. You more than anyone understand Alpha tempers,” Abby smiles, reaching out to shake his hand.
“Of course, ma’am. It’s no problem. I know it can be hard having a strange Alpha come into your home.” He nods, looking down at her. “But– and we weren’t eavesdropping but– what Clarke said is true. I do care a great deal about your daughter, no matter her designation.”
Clarke suddenly becomes very interested in the tile floor as pink rises on her cheeks. Even if it’s fake, it does something to her insides.
Abby hums, clearly not believing him. “All the same. Welcome to our home and thank you for joining us for Christmas. We have quite the full itinerary, so I hope you’re ready.”
Bellamy smiles and nods, reaching out an expectant hand towards Clarke who takes it just to have an anchor, his touch instantly soothes her. “Clarke’s filled me in on everything. Thank you for having me, if not I’d be third wheeling with my best friend.”
“Your folks don’t do Christmas?” Marcus asks, lacking all tact.
But Bellamy smiles again. “My Mom passed a few years back and my Dad was never really in the picture. Clarke’s roommate, Octavia, is actually my little sister but she’s with her boyfriend’s family this year. Clarke saved me from a very awkward Christmas of watching two people argue over who loves who more.”
Marcus laughs, Abby cracks a grimace that pretends to be a smile and Clarke stares at the floor.
“We’re lucky to have you, son,” Marcus pats his back. Clarke can already see they’re going to be two peas in a pod. Dammit.
Abby slides into a stool at the island and picks up her glass of wine. “What are you studying, Bellamy?”
Clarke’s hackles immediately rise. “Should we wait for Uncle Russell for the full interrogation?”
“I’m just trying to get to know your boyfriend , sweetie.” Abby smiles over her glass of wine.
Bellamy pulls Clarke in front of him and leans on the counter, urging her to sit. She does and he settles his hand on her stomach, his chin brushing her head as he talks. “I’m studying History, ma’am. I have my mechanics license– specifically for luxury cars– and was able to save up after working for a few years to pursue a field of study I actually wanted to. I still work some weekends with my old mentor in Polis. The hope is to graduate and be able to teach or write.”
“Is that very lucrative?” Abby prods, blinking innocently.
“I’m perfectly fine financially, ma’am, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The hand on her waist presses into her possessively.
“Mom,” Clarke warns, staring down at her mother.
“Yes, Clarke, sweetie?”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“What you’re doing.”
“I’m not doing–”
“Cars!” Marcus interjects, breaking the tension. “I have an old Porsche in the garage you might find interesting, it’s from ‘68.”
Bellamy nods. “I’d love that, sir.”
“Oh please, call me Marcus and call Abby, Abby.” He waves him off. “We’re family.”
“Not yet,” Abby corrects with a finger.
Marcus sighs at his mate. “Clarke, why don’t you two go upstairs and get settled. We have to call Simone and let her know we’ll have an extra tomorrow as well as the– uh– news.” Marcus waves them off and Clarke nods, not looking up before she rushes up the stairs. Bellamy follows hot on her heels as she turns into the room Abby made up for them. Her childhood bedroom was left behind in their old house after her Dad died. So it’s a generic guest room for them, nothing embarrassing for him to pry into, thank God.
White sheets cover the bed with an ivory duvet and textured throw pillows lining a brown leather headboard. Luxe and void of personality like most of the house. Bellamy closes the door and comes up behind her, depositing the duffles on the dresser. Before she can turn his hands wrap around her shoulders for a friendly squeeze that makes her jump a little. Only he doesn’t move. His thumbs start to dig into the muscles near her shoulder blades.
Unwillingly, she groans, leaning into his expert touch. Of course he has to be good at this. “You don’t have to–”
“Shush,” he says in her ear– far too close. She can feel his hot breath cascading down her neck.
“Bellamy, I’m fine.” It comes out more like a whine as he finds a particular knot. “I’m…” he drags his hand down her spine and shoves her face first onto the bed.
Clarke huffs and flips over, glaring at him and throwing him the finger which makes him laugh. “Octavia warned me you’d be an asshole.”
He just grins and shakes his head. “Get back on your stomach, your lower back is tense,” he orders in that gentle voice that makes her insides melt.
Clarke doesn’t even think about it, she just turns over and lays her cheek on the soft throw blanket that’s tastefully draped along the foot of the bed. She stiffens when she feels him climb on top of her thighs, straddling her legs so they’re pinned down a little awkwardly– she didn’t exactly close them all the way. But she tries not to think about that. It’s Bellamy, the Alpha asshole who she beats at darts on the weekends, argues with till her face turns blue, and who’s known as a manwhore galore with the prettiest girls on campus. Which are decidedly not her.
They’re just friends– sorta– nothing to worry about.
I care a great deal about your daughter.
You smell like you’re mine.
Good girl.
“Just relax, Clarke,” he lowers his voice and she feels a tingle run down her spine, instantly relaxing her limbs, it feels nice– better than nice– it feels perfect. His ungodly voice ghosts over the nape of her neck as he praises,“Good girl.”
A pleasurable shiver skims down her spine with his fingers as he digs into the muscle under her sweater. Bellamy hums, sounding slightly annoyed. “Let's take this off, hm?”
Clarke looks over her shoulder, confused. “ ‘M what?”
“I can’t really get into your muscles with a huge sweater covering every inch of your skin, princess.” If she didn’t feel so damn good she’d slap him for the condescension in his voice. Instead of doing that she shrugs, laying her head down again, and he pushes the plush red fabric up her back, his hand weaving under her tummy to lift her up so she can shimmy out of it.
Clarke freezes. She’s in just her bra, he’s touching her bare skin, her stomach and it feels good… almost normal.
“Much better.” He breathes as his calloused fingers start to dig into the muscles around her lower spine. Clarke can’t contain the deep moan that escapes her mouth as he presses down and rubs with his palms, like he knows what he’s doing. “God, you’re tense, princess.”
“Dealing with my Mother does that one,” she mumbles, focusing on his fingers and how fucking good it feels as tension eases out of her skin like sweat.
Bellamy huffs a laugh and squeezes her sides, dragging his hands dangerously high until his fingers skim the edge of her ratty sports bra. It sends off sparks in her head and she relaxes even more as her breaths even out.
“She really laid into you, huh?” He asks, absentmindedly drawing circles with his thumbs. “I heard everything. You know, I wouldn’t do that.”
“Hm?” Clarke prods, only half listening as she lets her eyes flutter closed.
“I wouldn’t mate you and leave you. If you’re my mate, you’re mine–” he leans down over her, the warmth of his hard chest pressing into her back “-- forever .”
Clarke nods, unable to even form a coherent thought as his cologne fills her nose again and relaxes her further. “You’re a good guy, Bellamy. I know that.”
Leaning back up he chuckles. “You keep thinking that, sweetheart.”
He works up her spine, rubbing his palms up and down her skin, even dipping under the edge of her sports bra to knead at the soft skin under her shoulder blades.
“You’re still so tense,” he murmurs and the disappointment in his voice makes something inside her cringe. “Want me to help you some more?”
Clarke just nods, anything to make that disappointment vanish.
“Trust me, okay?”
That makes her pause. She twists her head and catches his eye, seeing the sincerity in his gaze. Clarke opens her mouth to ask what he means but what comes out is: “I trust you.”
Bellamy’s lips part and his eyes darken, a wolfish grin covering his face. “Good.”
He drags his palm down her spine and doesn’t stop as he runs it over her ass. Clarke’s breathing speeds up, a little confused. It’s not like she’s a whole virgin, it’s just that her experience is– limited.
Okay, she’s like a half virgin.
Still staring at him, she chokes out. “Bellamy–”
“No,” he holds up a finger as his hand cups her ass and squeezes the soft flesh like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever held.
Clarke deflates, wanting him to touch her more even if it fucks with her permanently. Knowing they’re not really together, he’s just horny, he’s just– his hand cups her between her legs as he readjusts her thighs to splay out a little, his legs still caging her so she can’t move her lower half.
Thick fingers run up and down the gusset of her leggings and she inhales shakily– knowing he can feel how wet she got from his massage.
“Alpha…” she whines as he presses down on her clit through the slowly soaking fabric.
“Better, princess. Much better.” He continues to rub her through the fabric until her hips start to chase his movements as much as they can when pinned. Bellamy laughs, his other hand coming to squeeze her ass again as he says, “needy thing, aren’t you?”
Clarke has lost the ability to be pissed and just nods. Not understanding why he’s teasing her.
“It’s okay, your Alpha’s gonna make it better, baby. We just need to get these pesky things off.” He reaches under the waistband of her leggings and yanks them down with her thong in one rough tug, baring her soaked cunt to the cool air as the fabric stretches over her splayed thighs and digs into the skin over her knees. Bellamy lets out a shaky breath, a single finger opening her up delicately like one would a rose that hasn't bloomed. “Look at you, so pretty, princess.”
Clarke bucks her hips again and he swats her ass– making her jump. It’s not hard enough to sting but more of a shock. She feels her traitor cunt throb and get even wetter, a wet patch forming on the fabric beneath her.
“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” He seems almost in awe. Finally, his finger slides up and down her weeping hole, circling around her swollen clit and forcing a kean from her lips.
Bellamy’s hand quickly reaches down and covers her mouth. “Shhh, don’t want your parents hearing us, do we?”
Clarke nods into his warm palm as he slides it off her mouth, dragging some loose saliva with him. Fuck, is she so out of it she started drooling? She’s never done that before. Hell, she doesn’t think she’s ever been this turned on before.
“Alpha… are you… are you gonna…?” She can’t seem to get the words out and Bellamy keeps gently petting her pussy as he kisses the skin behind her ear. She can’t help the small noises that escape her throat as she tries to reel in her moans.
“Keep up those little noises and I won’t be able to help myself, little girl,” he growls in her ear, tongue tracing her ear as he plunges a thick finger into her– making her eyes roll back and her cunt spasm around him. “Fuck, you’re tight…” He sounds wrecked as she feels as he pumps his finger in and out slowly, letting it drag over the velvet of her inner walls slowly, almost leisurely .
Her hips chase the sensation as her clit grinds against the soft fabric of the comforter, forcing another low whine from her throat. “Careful, princess, or I’ll shove my cock so deep in this pussy you’ll never get it out, my knot and my cock will live inside you where they belong…”
Clarke’s breathing speeds up as fear races down her spine. He can’t knot her, her body isn’t built for it, it could rip her up inside. The fear only lasts a moment before he starts to rub a spot within her, stretching another finger into her fluttering pussy. They feel huge, the stretch making her breaths pant between her lips as she shivers from the slight pain mixed in a delicious cocktail of need and want and perfection.
“Alpha…” she doesn’t know what she wants, what she’s begging for, all she knows is she needs to beg. She needs to say it again and again and again. Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.
Bellamy kisses down her neck and between her shoulders, until his lips breeze over her small mating gland and send a shockwave of pleasure through her body enough that her back arches and she has to bite her bottom lip bloody to keep from screaming.
She didn’t know the human body could feel so good.
“There’s my good girl,” he coos, licking the gland again and sending another shockwave through her. “Come on my fingers, babygirl, show your Alpha how good you are.”
Clarke nods furiously as he laps at her again and on this shockwave, the two fingers inside her press on that magical spot within her and she feels herself crest. Her legs shake viciously as the most intense orgasm she’s ever had flies through her body like a livewire. Her eyes roll back and her mouth opens on its own accord.
It isn’t until she stops cumming that she realizes his hand is covering her mouth again. Teeth dig into the meat of her shoulder. It stings a little, but she sighs into the sensation as it flits through her remaining pulsing pleasure.
He works her on his fingers as the aftershocks ebb through her body before pulling them from her cunt and teasingly tapping her clit a few times to watch her jump from oversensitivity.
Clarke rolls onto her side as he climbs off her and rubs her bare hip aimlessly, she catches his eye as he sucks his two fingers into his mouth and groans at the taste.
Her taste.
It sends a fresh wave of want over her.
“So that was…” she starts only to lose the rest of her thoughts as she spots the outline of his huge cock against his jeans.
“See something you want, princess?” He teases, pushing down on her shoulder so she lays on her back with him hovering above her. “Don’t worry, we’ll get there.”
Clarke pinches her brow together as she studies his face, still confused. Does he just want to fuck her? Is that why he suggested this whole thing?
“This wasn’t part of the deal,” she whispers, suddenly self conscious as the afterglow fades.
Bellamy nods, contemplative. “I’m rewriting the rules.” He leans down and kisses her softly on the forehead before hopping up and walking into the attached bathroom. She hears the shower run and wonders if he’s jacking off.
She can barely move.
The Alpha she’s had a crush on for years just made her cum harder than she’s ever cum in her life on his fingers.
He initiated it.
He threatened to knot her.
Clarke lets out a shaky breath… I am so over my head.