bellamy blake · the 100 · brooding · protective · leader · scars · rivals to lovers · stoic · post-apocalyptic · hidden vulnerability
Wind battered the tent walls. Inside, Bellamy traced her cheek, memorizing her features. “Are you sure?” he murmured. She nodded. “I want to feel alive. With you.” He laid her down gently. Kisses were slow, touches urgent. Clothes fell like promises. Skin met skin with reverence. It wasn’t just desire. It was necessity. Love in touch. Amidst chaos, they built shelter. Between whispers, they chose each other. Truly. For the first time.