The Beg

 

Lexa released the seal on Clarke’s clit, and licked through her folds, gathering as much of her slick as she could on her tongue, already utterly addicted to the heady sweet taste of Clarke.

 

Clarke shivered and shook underneath her as Lexa circled her tongue around her entrance. She was aware of all the little enthusiastic noises she let escape her lips as she drew nearer to the source, but she could hardly care. Clarke was a writhing mess, her fingers tangled in her hair, her hips canting, chasing Lexa’s every ministration, and it was beautiful.

 

Lexa flexed and tightened her tongue and had just pushed inside of Clarke when nails dug painfully into her scalp.

 

“Fingers,” Clarke begged. “Please, Lexa.”

 

And who was Lexa to deny Clarke precisely what she wanted? With a little smirk that went unseen, Lexa moved the few centimeters back up and sucked Clarke’s clit back into her mouth.