( i promise as much as i can isn't a real promise. clarke knows it, even venti seems perfectly aware of how lacking that is in terms of conviction and commitment. but at the end of the day... she's gone to war on weaker alliances. been betrayed within the confines of stronger agreements. and usually managed to pull through at the last moment regardless. at least they're united with a similar goal in mind, and clarke has a baseline for exactly how much she ought to rely on venti. he doesn't have to be a frontline of defense, or even the second on her speed dial throughout her continual investigation of the captain. but knowing if all else fails, there's a hail barbatos in her back pocket is a plush, inviting safety net.
and if there's something clarke rarely feels — here, or anywhere else as of late — it's safe.
but venti's still talking, offering himself and then something more, and the light brush of air around her face catches any remnant trails of drying sweat and sends a shiver down her spine. the wires between reverence and desire run side by side and sometimes they cross. he's in her room, perched on the edge of her bed and promising power in her corner while clarke kneels and offers unpracticed faith. ask her an hour ago where they would have ended up, and she'd have guessed talking about mizuki affixing himself to ebalon's side regardless of his actions during the battle royale. and then ask her ten seconds ago where she'd like to be, and the only aspect that would change is which one of the two of them was on the floor between the legs of the other. )
I want —
( realistically, the people on board this ship who seem to gravitate towards her presence need to stop looking at clarke griffin like she's stronger in her convictions than them. she is weak to all things every other human is, including the hint of touch and pleasure. and her heart rate picks up at the prospect of not feeling so relentlessly alone if only for a moment. )
...I didn't know anything else was on the table.
( or the bed. because vocalized hesitance aside, she'll inevitably be the one to breach the gap between their bodies first; leans forward just a tad, until her shoulders are bumping along the inside of venti's knees. )
no subject
and if there's something clarke rarely feels — here, or anywhere else as of late — it's safe.
but venti's still talking, offering himself and then something more, and the light brush of air around her face catches any remnant trails of drying sweat and sends a shiver down her spine. the wires between reverence and desire run side by side and sometimes they cross. he's in her room, perched on the edge of her bed and promising power in her corner while clarke kneels and offers unpracticed faith. ask her an hour ago where they would have ended up, and she'd have guessed talking about mizuki affixing himself to ebalon's side regardless of his actions during the battle royale. and then ask her ten seconds ago where she'd like to be, and the only aspect that would change is which one of the two of them was on the floor between the legs of the other. )
I want —
( realistically, the people on board this ship who seem to gravitate towards her presence need to stop looking at clarke griffin like she's stronger in her convictions than them. she is weak to all things every other human is, including the hint of touch and pleasure. and her heart rate picks up at the prospect of not feeling so relentlessly alone if only for a moment. )
...I didn't know anything else was on the table.
( or the bed. because vocalized hesitance aside, she'll inevitably be the one to breach the gap between their bodies first; leans forward just a tad, until her shoulders are bumping along the inside of venti's knees. )