When a rustle pulls him awake, it’s full dark. The last candle winked out some time before, and the only light remaining is a thin silver glow from the window. Bellamy blinks as his eyes adjust, taking in the wooden slats of the ceiling, then the quiet room. Beyond the door, he can hear men and women moving and whispering, but the sounds are muted: a hush of a prayer, a soft whimper of pain. He turns his head, expecting to see Clarke asleep beside him in the darkness.
She’s not.
She is awake too, and she’s watching him.
Adult, post-season 3 finale. This is only the first chapter of what the author calls a “smut series”, but it stands wonderfully on its own – and the smut has a whole lot of feels to it, which is my favourite kind.