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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 7, 2016 12:11:05 GMT
Bellamy felt relieved when Jackson said he was feeling better. More human. Bellamy could understand the restlessness for someone who was always so used to working. But Bellamy paused when he said that he may try to work his full shift tomorrow. Though he didn't say anything, He looked at Jackson as he emerged from the bathroom, offering a soft kiss which caused the younger male to close his eyes, taking in the feel of his lips and the touch of his hand through his hair. He slowly opened them to look at his partner once more when he asked how his day was. Bellamy's hand instinctively went to Jackson's forehead, and then his cheek, making sure that he didn't get a sudden fever. Once satisfied, he lowered his hand. "Fine," he responded simply. "Uneventful," he added on for more 'detail'. He was more concerned with Jackson right now than the going ons of his day.
"You should ease back into it," he said, not wanting the man to overwork himself so soon back. He knew that telling him that he shouldn't work wasn't an option. "You just got back on your feet. Don't overdo it," he added on. Jackson would most likely reassure him he wasn't, but Bellamy had seen how weak he was. He had seen the state he was in. And the fear from all that was diminishing based on his improving condition, wasn't fully gone. The fear of losing him never would be. He stepped to the side, getting two cups for them and filling them with water. "Have you eaten today?" He asked. When Bellamy had been at Jackson's side, he'd been able to make sure he was eating and resting. But not having seen him for most of the day . . . well, Bellamy wanted to make sure. He wanted to see whether his appetite was improving, as it seemed to be each day.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 7, 2016 3:30:48 GMT
 Tag: @severitysoftly whatever THE HELL WE WANT The next few days were hell. Jackson had been worse the second day, puking god knows what considering he hadnt even eaten anything. Bellamy didnt leave his side. He was terrified every second of every day. Doing whatever he could yet hating the fact that it was out of his hands. That Bellamy couldnt do anything to physically save him. That at any moment, he could lose the man he loved. It was a perpetual state of fear the next few days. Even when he was well enough to go back home, Bellamy was still in fear. He sat with him in the back, his hand running through his hair and caressing his cheek as his head lay in his lap. Bellamy could lose him, and he was all too aware of this possibility. When they got back, Bellamy didnt even need to convince Kane. The man saw how weak Jackson looked. So he rested for next couple of days. The first day Bellamy stayed with him, only occasionally getting them food or whatever else his partner needed.
The next day, Bellamy had some things to do so was forced to leave but he made sure they were quick trips. The sleep and rest was helping because soon enough, Jackson was permitted to work. Even if it was just a half day. Bellamy was gone for the entirety of it, returning later to see food on the table and a voice speaking to him from behind the bathroom door. Bellamy took in his strengh of voice and from what he could see of his complexion. "Thanks," Bellamy replied, taking off his coat and hanging it up. He knew that the more Jackson recovered, the more difficult it was to ignore the elephant in the room. Jackson was alive. The worst was over and Bellamy just wanted to bask in that relief. But he couldn't. What if there was a next time? "How are you feeling?" He asked, wanting to know every detail of Jacksons well being, especiallt being he worked today.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 7, 2016 2:45:06 GMT
 Tag: @severitysoftly forgiveness IS HARD FOR US Bellamy finally looked at Jackson as he brushed away his tear. Bellamy should have jerked his head away, but he didn't. He knew he was undeserving of the tender touch, but whatever shred of humanity that was left in him . . . craved it. Craved a touch that would not make him flinch nor cause pain. A touch over his marked skin, a created mask to air his misdeeds. But there did not seem to be any judgment for Jackson. His words reflective of that, but also revealing of the that that he didn't forgive himself either.
Bellamy didn't know all the details of what those who had been chipped were forced to do. But he could imagine. He had heard bits and pieces. He had seen the aftermath. He wanted to offer him the chance to open up as well, but he knew now that it didn't come without him opening up first. Bellamy's eyes remained on Jackson and the next thing he knew, the doctor was pulling him into a hug. Bellamy stilled for a moment, but it was hardly long until his own arms slowly wrapped around Jackson, as if nearly forgetting what it was to be hugged. To be embraced.
The sensation of it, the reminder of it . . . and for Jackson to be the one giving him this, made it all the more powerful. His words played in his mind. Even without the details, Jackson seemed to know that he had tried to save him. Jackson, a man that knew him better than his own sister did. Or at least knew that he would try. "It wasn't good enough," Bellamy whispered. "Trying, isn't good enough." Not for him. And everyone knew it. "I wish they'd let me help." The words came out with even over thinking it.
The guard he had forced to be raised, slowly crumbling down, and dangerously exposing more than what Bellamy ever intended to. "Why do you want to get to know me?" He asked, unsure he wanted to hear the answer; almost fearing it because of how damn unworthy he was of someone, anyone's understanding and compassion. Suddenly, he couldn't show the same restraint Jackson did, so he tilted his head to the side, burying his face against the crook of Jackson's skin, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, and soaking in the feeling of embracing him, the familiar scent but most importantly . . . the comfort and warmth that Jackson always managed to give him.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 7, 2016 2:33:45 GMT
whatever THE HELL WE WANT Bellamy watched her, mesmerized as she began to lift her shirt to reveal her alluring body. His hands spanned over her stomach, moving up and down her sides to take in the softness of her skin. Somehow, this all felt even more incredible, more powerful . . . and he knew why. It was a combination of things. The first being that she was pregnant of course, and the second . . . being that they had exchanged those three words that he had dared not say to anyone else.
That he had not felt for anyone else. When she moved her hands under his shirt, he immediately felt the sensation of her touch, strengthened by her lips moving along his neck and sucking the skin. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, thoroughly enjoying her attentions. When he felt her move, her breath over him, he opened his eyes, looking at her through heavy lids. Her spoken words were once that he would never tire of hearing.
"I love you too." Or saying, as he uttered them in a low voice, but thick with sincerity. One hand moved to the back of her head to press her down and close to him, as he deepened the kiss, pouring into it the magnitude of the words he said. His hand moved over her back, sliding over to the front fastening of her pants, pausing his actions for a moment as he eased out of the kiss, his lips still barley apart from hers. "You sure you're up for this?" He asked, just wanting to be sure, knowing she hadn't been feeling well -- obviously now knowing why. He lightly kissed her cheek while awaiting the question, needing to keep contact of her skin.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 7, 2016 0:48:37 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly whatever THE HELL WE WANT Shouldn't He shouldn't either. But that didn't mean he couldn't. Or wouldn't. A lot of things that shouldn't happen, did. Yet Bellamy wasn't going to dwell on the words. Or at least not make it apparent that he was. Jackson had asked for a distraction of sorts, and Bellamy was going to give him one. Had the subject of his sister not be a tense one, perhaps he would have even stated how he used to read her stories from one of his favorite books. But he was trying to steer clear of any subject that would serve as the opposite effect of relaxing. "Odysseus," Bellamy finally answered with a slight smile. "One of my favorite books to read was the Odyssey. Figured it was fitting," he said.
"Well, as fitting as the name Odysseus can be for a kid." He hadn't told anyone that. There had never really been a need to. Just something he wanted to share with Jackson now. A safe subject. Bellamy soaked the cloth once more, ringing it and wiping his skin. He was still warm, but Bellmy would continue to hope this would battle the fever. "It might put you to sleep," he began to say. "Which actually might be a good thing." Taking a deep breath, he began to read the first page of the text, having had memorized it years ago. When he had been young, yet the words always remained with him. He'd read it to Octavia to help her sleep, and right now, he hoped they served as the same purpose for his partner. Or at the very least, calm and relax him.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 7, 2016 0:10:51 GMT
Tag: @harpermcintyre whatever THE HELL WE WANT Bellamy had never been one to consume alcohol. On the Ark it had been due to the need to protect his sister. The fear of compromising himself, and thus, risking saying something that could expose his sister and mother. On the Ground, it had been for different reasons but the logic of not wishing to compromise himself remained. He wanted to remain fully in his senses; should the threat of Grounders emerge. Tonight, he had no intention of drinking heavily. He was trying a new mix, made with a new berry that they were experimenting on. And joining him, was Harper. It was unplanned, but her company was most welcome.
One of the original delinquents sent to the ground, and one of the people who had suffered at the hands of the Mountain Men. But most every was healing from that. Physically at least. Psychologically, mentally, emotionally . . . that was a whole other story. But right now, he was allowing the distraction. Being in the hangar in good company, with a good drink, and with a slowly dwindling crowd.
"This stuff is pretty damn good," he stated, not sure why he felt so relaxed right now. Nor was he going to question it. "Better than nuts. Less crunchy." He slightly scoffed at that statement, clearly, some sort of innuendo about crunchy nuts hanging in his words. He didn't even know where the mention of nuts came from. Perhaps because they were placed at the bar, in a small bowl. But still. He looked at Harper, eyes glossed over with a relaxation that he wasn't used to allowing himself. "Do people ever call you Harp for short?" He inquired randomly, as if it was the most serious question in all the world.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 7, 2016 0:02:21 GMT
whatever THE HELL WE WANT Bellamy had not been ordered to do this, but he knew that he needed to. Despite the Mountain Men no longer being a threat, there was still the one of reapers. So he had agreed to take the patrol in the wooded area surrounding Mount Weather. The facility was a place that they did supply runs on. Bellamy had managed to avoid some but not all. Returning had never been easy. But whether he was there or Arkadia, the memories of his actions, the genocide he had committed, would forever haunt him.
It would forever be there when he closed his eyes, when he was awake . . . every moment of his life. The blood of nearly a thousand people drowning him, and the guilt, suffocating him. That was his punishment for all he had done. Death was the only escape and he wasn't any where near self inflicting that. But each day the burden grew more difficult to bear, and the one person who he thought he could rely on . . . had left. There was a relief in patrolling alone, sometimes needing time to himself. But there was also the downside, as he was not able to escape his own thoughts.
But in this moment, another distraction immediately caught his attention. He held his gun up, aimed at something -- or someone -- in the near distance. He cuold see part of the back of their head against a tree. With his gun still aimed, Bellamy cautiously approached the figure. It could be Reapers, but it could also be Grounders. Just because there was a ceasefire, didn't mean that there was no lasting tension between their groups. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the figure, immediately lowering his gun when he saw who it was.
"Oh my god," he breathed, collasping to his knees in front of her. His hand went to her neck, brushing away her hair to feel for a pulse. It was there. Just barley, weak, but it was there. "Fox?" He asked, a breathless tone of worry in his voice as he looked at her. "Hey," he said gently, his hand now going to her cheek, to feel what warmth he could, and offer warmth to her as well. "Can you hear me? It's Bellamy." They had thought her dead. They'd lost others to the Mountain Men, to the drilling. Fox had been assumed among them but here she was. And Bellamy could not bear the thought of losing her twice. He had saved her once, having shot both guards in the head . . . and then lost her. He would never forgive himself if he failed her twice.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 6, 2016 23:53:12 GMT
whatever THE HELL WE WANT Understand her part. He wasn't sure he even wanted to. But he didn't object. She started explaining the history of Nia and Lexa. He was listening, but had nothing to comment on it. What was it Kane had called them . . . collateral in a war against Lexa. As if that someone justified the killing. As if it appeased it. They weren't even given justice for all those that were murdered. But when the situation was reversed, they would give in to the Grounders demands.
Or, a select few would. "I don't give a damn about your Grounder politics," he said, his tone leveled, though was clearly uncaring of the history. Whether it was difficult for her to admit or not. She had been the one Grounder -- apart from Lincoln -- that he felt he could trust. And had trusted. Even her being a spy for a man who kidnapped Clarke, stabbed him, and would have done who knows what . . . well, that didn't give Bellamy any reassurance. The bottom line was that they would only protect their own. Which was also why Bellamy was highly wary of both Echo and Roan being in this faction with him. Bellamy clenched his jaw, hearing her explain that she did what she had . . . to get him and his sister out.
A part of him would always relieved that his sister was alive, but he couldn't condone Echo's actions. "I trusted you, twice." His tone was starting to become more hurt than angry, but he still managed to keep it relatively composed. "And both times, you betrayed that." He had lost too many people. Gena. One of the many among the group that had died. "You could have done more. We could have found a way." Gena had not died in the explosion. She had found the assassin. Who's to say that they couldn't have stopped it? But they had been robbed of that choice.
"The blood of those people, my people, is on my hands. Because I trusted you. That has always been my mistake." Something that he would not do again. He turned to look at her, unsure what expression was even on his gaze. "So if that is how you repay a debt, then don't let me do you any more favors. " His words were sarcastic of course. Whether she used that to rationalize her decision or not, Bellamy was too hurt by her actions. The wounds still fresh of losing everyone, including the woman he loved. "Because for a people who like to talk a lot about honor, you have none."
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 6, 2016 23:09:34 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly forgiveness IS HARD FOR US Bellamy listened at Jackson spoke of people following him. Of how he had been placed in another leadership role, questioning their reasons for it if what he said was true. Bellamy slightly shook his head, his gaze looking at nothing in particular though he kept his head forward. "It's convenient." That was all there was to it. Convenient, to put him in this role. Resourcefulness and trust were very different things. It was after all, all he was good for when it came to Clarke. When it came to the others. But acting on what he believed . . . well, clearly it hadn't worked out in his favor.
"I'm useful to them." He knew that there was no other better way to put it. He was able to meet each task, whether the others were in agreement or not. He could have taken out Pike earlier, but he had done it . . . only when he thought it could salvage his relationship with his sister. It hadn't. And he regretted going against his own people in such a way. Jackson asked what had happened, having lost track during his time being chipped. Where did Bellamy even begin? He wanted to spare his friend the details . . . but at the same time, he had asked. "Lincoln died," Bellamy said, his voice holding the weight of his words, his eyes moist with tears.
"I couldn't save him." He tried. But he hadn't been able to. Convenient to them; whether it was a scapegoat, or rightful blame thrust upon his feet. "And the way they looked at me after . . . " This time, a tear escaped him, rolling down his cheek as he thought back to their expressions. He deserved it. But it made it hurt no less. He hadn't been able to save Lincoln. Or Gena. Or Monroe. Or even Pike. People he'd been close to. People who died. A vicious pattern; a morbid cycle.
"I can't forgive myself. So I . . . " don't deserve to be saved. Words thought. But unspoken. As a leader, he could not speak such things. He was here to guide them, to find a way to save everyone. Even if he didn't want to save himself. "Can't expect them to forgive me either." And they wouldn't. Not after what they had said. He sniffed a little trying to regain his composure. Trying to return to being that stoic person that he had spent a lifetime forcing himself to be. But recently, it felt like an impossibility. "I don't deserve to be." Forgiven or saved.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 5, 2016 13:55:55 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly whatever THE HELL WE WANT Bellamy listened to Jackson explain what had happened to Jasper in Mount Weather. Bellamy had heard bits and pieces about it from the others, but never asked Jasper directly, knowing the subject of Maya was a sensitive one. Especially since he had been one of the people to kill her. Forcing those thoughts back, he focused on the present. It was all he could do. He left the cloth on Jacksond forehead so that he could continue to feel the effects, while he reached to unfasten his pants. He proceedee to pull them down until they were off, piling them with his shirt.
"Cant say whether people in Mount Weather were more severe. But Jasper didnt have any complications from it." And that was the only hope that Bellamy could hold on to. Though he knew the circumstances and group of people were incredibly different. There were also environmental differences as well. But he didnt want to dwell on that. Once Jackson was clad only in his underwear, Bellamy repeated the action of dipping the cloth, ringing it, and dabbing him. His partners words wanting him to tell him something he didnt know. Bellamy tried to think of something.
"I love history and mythology. Specifically Roman and Greek." It wasnt something they had really spoken about before. Especially since everytime someone read to him or gifted him with one of his favorite books, The Iliad, they wound up dead. Because of him. His mother. Gena. And well, any childhood memories of reading it with Octavia were painful to think of because of their tense relationship. "I used to want to change my name to something inspired by the things i read and what my mom read to me. So she let me pick my middle name." Bellamy doubted his childhood was interesting, but he hoped talking was helping distract Jackson from his condition and perhaps even lull him to sleep. Besides, such information was not something he shared with everyone. Hardly anyone in fact.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 5, 2016 4:22:17 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly whatever THE HELL WE WANT Bellamy felt all the more encouraged when Jackson spoke of how good it felt. His body was so warn and battle wanted to do what he could to battle the fever and make him more comfortable. The younger males eyes locked into his partners when he strained to look at him, the flicker of a smile allowing for Bellamys own attempt. He somewhat teased him back before his face paled once more. Bellamy drew his hand back, allowing Jackson the space he needed to lean over and vomit in the bucket. Bellamy moved his hand that was not still holding the cloth to Jackson's back, gently rubbing it in a soothing caress. He did agree with him in that this was a terrible idea, but also knew that such agreement threatened to bring forth the conversation that he wasnt in any state to have.
Once he was settled, Bellamy proceeded to pour a cup of water, offering it to Jackson by positioning it close to his lips -- figuring he should save his strength by avoiding such tasks -- in case he wanted to drink it or rinse his mouth. "A few days you said?" Bellamy asked, wanting to know how long this would last. Trying to stay optimistic, but luck had seldom ever been on their side. With one hand holding the cup, his other went back to moving the cloth over his body. "Are you comfortable?" Bellamy inquired. "Do you want me to take your pants off?" And for once, it was not for reasons that Bellamy usually did. Hell, he had never even bothered asking before. But these circumstances were different. Very different.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 4, 2016 19:55:31 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly whatever THE HELL WE WANT Bellamy took in Jacksons tone, wishing he could do more to help him. Wishing he had done more to help him. To stop him. Until they knew for sure thay he would be alright. . . Bellamy wouldnt be able to relax is fearful mind. When Jackson spoke of something to throw up in, Bellamy looked around the room, taking notice of a small barrel in the corner. He went toward it, looked inside just to be certain that there wasnt anything it it, and then moved it next to the bed, so that Jackson need only lean over. He noticed him start to unbutton his shirt. "Hang on," Bellamy told him, his hands going to the bottom of Jackson's shirt to pull it off over his head and place it neatly to the side. Jackson told him to just he with him, to tell him something he didnt know. Bellamy couldnt imagine being anywhere else.
He dipped the cloth back into the water, rung it, and then dabbed it down Jacksons neck, and proceeded along his chest. His other hand went to his forehead and then cheek to feel him. "Youre really hot," he said, his hand starting to stroke his hair, the other still moved along his chest to help cool his body. He knew that Jackson needed distraction right now. So he avoided saying anything that could spark the inevitable conversation that would eventually come. "This time in more ways than one," he teased, forcing a slight smile. It was practically impossible to display such an expression considering the circumstances but he wanted to at leat try. For Jackson's sakd. "Does that count as telling you something you dont already know?" He continued to teae, though he knew the enthusiasm that he often teased his lover with was missing. Still, the playfulness was there.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 4, 2016 17:30:18 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly whatever THE HELL WE WANT Once they arrived to the room, Bellamy waited for the Grounder to leave before he kicked the door shut and then proceeded to lay Jackson down on the bed. He put their packs to the side, watching his partner curl up, eyes remaining closed. He needed to rest as much as possible, yet there was also the fear in Bellamy that he would not wake up. He moved to take off Jackson's shoes, setting them at the side of the bed, before grabbing the pitcher of water at the bedside table, and pouring it into the bowl nearby. He dipped the cloth in and sat at the edge of the bed on the same side that Jackson was on. He then apologized, and the words made Bellamy's jaw clench with emotion. He was sorry.
Sorry wasn't going to do anything if Jackson died from this. It wasn't going to make the loss any easier to bare. But he wasn't going to start that argument right now. At this moment, it was not what Jackson needed. He needed to be at ease, calm, relaxed. Bellamy moved the cloth to Jackson's forehead, dabbing it to help battle the heated fever.
The next words he said however, nearly made the younger male pause. He had not said them back in the other room, as they felt more like a good bye. But right now, he couldn't refrain from saying them. "I love you too," he spoke in a low, but strongly sincere voice. He leaned down to lightly kiss Jackson's cheek, before proceeding to wipe his forehead and dab at his cheek too. "What can I do?" He asked again, feeling the need to do something. "What do you need?" He further inquired with the related question. He couldn't just sit here and be idle. He needed to help. He needed to do all within his capabilities to ensure that Jackson lived through this.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 4, 2016 5:45:48 GMT
whatever THE HELL WE WANT She was making it too damn hard to concentrate. With each glide of her tongue and nip of her teeth, left a heat over where she had touched; and an ache that went right to his member, becoming more needy for her. But somehow, but some miracle really, he remained idle. Which, he wasn't used to being. Everything about Roma was so damn desirable and right now, she was being so sensual that Bellamy was having difficulty focusing on the book. The story at hand. But then, that was her goal wasn't it? That was the challenge. And he doubted he would last much longer, but perhaps he could prolong it . . . just for another moment.
He closed his eyes, swallowing as she worked her way down his neck. One of his hands went to the back of her head in encouragement, his fingers curling into her long locks of luscious hair. When she moved to straddle him, inevitably applying some pressure to his already sensitive region, Bellamy let out a heavy breath at the sensation. At the need. She asked him to keep going, but he wasn't even sure if he could form the words. His hand began to glide up her thigh in a caress, watching her as she lifted his shirt and kissed his stomach . . . working her way up.
Almost pleading with her to work her way down. He watched her intently, his hand on her thigh now moving to her back, moving under her shirt as his hand glided over the bare skin of her back, hiking up her shirt with the movement. "There was a princess," he began to say, working on forming coherent words. He was deviating from the book a little, his eyes no longer reading the words but rather, making up the story along the way. "She had a tendency to torture the prince. Flaunting her beauty and allure in front of him, but making herself unattainable. It nearly drove the prince to madness." It was a tease, a playful remark because right now, that was what Roma was doing to him.
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Post by Bellamy Blake on Sept 4, 2016 5:33:52 GMT
Tag: @severitysoftly whatever THE HELL WE WANT Bellamy hated seeing Jackson like this. The color drained from his face, his weak voice and demeanour. Knowing what caused it, and knowing that they weren't out of the woods yet. The worry had not yet ceased. Things could get worse. A lot worse. As Jackson had just said. Bellamy gave a nod, slowly pulling his hand away and putting the bowl on Jackson's lap. He proceeded to collect his supplies, safely tucking them into Jackson's pack before Bellamy pulled the straps of each one over his shoulder, pushing them behind him so that they were against his back as best he could.
He was leaving this room with everything, only wanting to make one trip. Once everything was collected, one of the Grounders informed them that he would take them to their guest room. Bellamy walked back to Jackson, taking in the sight of his state. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to walk. Who knows how far the room is anyway. Bellamy didn't even feel the need to ask Jackson if he could move himself.
Offering him the support of his weight wasn't enough. So, that left only one other alternative. Putting the bowl aside for him, Bellamy wordlessly moved one arm under Jackson's legs, the other around his upper body to scoop him up into his arms. "Try to keep from throwing up until we get in the room." His voice held a slight tease to it, though with the previous tension, and current circumstances . . . the full joviality of the tease was missing. Once he had Jackson securely in his arms, he gave a nod to the Grounder and followed him to their room.
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