Chapter Text
Clarke fidgets in the elevator. Glancing over her shoulder, she catches her reflection in the mirrored wall. She’s self-conscious in her Forever 21 dress and the too-big heels she borrowed from Raven. But her hair and makeup are flawless, so hopefully this Mr. Blake can look past her cheap clothes.
It’s silly for her to fixate on her outfit. He knows she’s broke, hence why she’s even considering this. But it feels like everyone she passes in his building is staring at her because she looks so out of place.
There was a time where Clarke lived in a building not much different than this one. A doctor for a mom and an engineer for a dad, both of whom dreamt of sending her to a private college somewhere out of state where she’d meet her future husband at some sorority function. If all had gone according to plan, Clarke would have a massive ring on her finger and a fancy June wedding to plan.
But all didn’t go according to plan. And now, Clarke has three jobs, a horrible apartment, a dead dad, and a mom stuck in yet another rehab facility. The blue floral dress that she got for eleven bucks is the nicest thing in her closet, and ordinarily, she takes pride in the fact that she found it for so cheap. But in this building, it feels like a neon sign pointing out that she doesn’t belong in this world anymore.
Mr. Blake owns the entire top floor of the building. On the phone, he told her to wait by the elevator as soon as it got to his floor. She does as she’s told, and for all of two seconds, she manages to look composed while she waits. But as the seconds drag on, Clarke finds herself wringing her hands and biting at her lip.
How could she let Raven talk her into this? Yeah, Clarke has read all the articles on being a sugar baby and heard the arguments for it, but it still seems too good to be true. Just a lot of sex with a rich guy to pay off her student loans and help her make rent each month.
Maybe if Clarke had ever slept with someone before, it wouldn’t feel like such a big deal.
“Clarke Griffin?” His low voice jerks her attention away from the abstract art on the wall.
“Yes,” she says. After a beat, she remembers to reach out to shake his hand. “And you must be Mr. Blake.”
This isn’t her first interview with a prospective sugar daddy. Mr. Wallace was her first, and that scared the hell out of her. She was panicked that all her options would be that old. Luckily, her second was Roan, which put her at ease. But when he listed off his expectations for a sugar baby, Clarke quickly realized he wouldn’t work either. She’s not quite to the point where she’s willing to be some rich guy’s sex slave, no matter how well he paid. And considering Clarke is still a virgin, that isn’t exactly how she wants her first time to go.
The other prospective men were relatively boring. Executives and real estate tycoons, all divorcees. Any one of them would be a fine option, but none of them stand out.
Mr. Blake doesn’t look like the others. For starters, he’s wearing low rise jeans and a simple button down with the sleeves rolled up. His hair has a serious case of bedhead, and not in the purposefully styled way that a lot of men have been attempting these days. And he’s young. Well, younger. He’s got at least ten years on Clarke, maybe early thirties, but that’s incredibly young compared to some of the others she has met with.
“Please, call me Bellamy,” he grins. She blinks a few times. He’s kind of beautiful. His smile is a little lopsided, but genuine. He has these freckles sprinkled across his cheeks, and Clarke’s hands itch to draw them. There’s a bit of stubble, which he didn’t have in any of the pictures posted online. Those were all professional photos of him in suits, and Raven kept calling him Daddy as they scrolled through.
“Alright, Bellamy,” she replies. With a flick of his head, he gestures for her to follow. His living room is relatively bare. The apartment has a minimalist style. Lots of white walls and simple décor. She doubts he decorated the apartment himself. With the kind of money he has, why would he bother?
There are a few bookshelves, and unlike the rest of the apartment, they are crammed and messy and the books are not in any logical order. They’re probably the only thing in this apartment that reflects him. He must be an avid reader. She thinks she remembers reading that when she skimmed through articles about him. But that could have been one of the others. They all blur together at this point.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” he asks, and she shakes her head. Bellamy gestures to the couch and takes a seat in one of the armchairs across from it. Clarke can feel herself shake as she settles into the beige leather couch.
Across from her, Bellamy has his arm propped up on the armrest, bringing up his fingers to his chin. His dark brown eyes are fixed on her, but he doesn’t say a word. She squirms a little under his gaze, though hopefully not too noticeably. This is normally when she starts getting drilled with questions. So, why is he just staring at her?
“How are you?” she asks him when she can’t stand the silence any longer.
“Good,” he murmurs, and his hand drops from his face. His index finger taps the chair three times before he says, “You’re nervous.”
“Excuse me?”
“You just seem nervous to me,” he replies. After all the interviews she’s gotten through, one would think Clarke would be better at them. And she was better in the last few. But there’s something about Bellamy that brings the nerves back. It feels like he’s looking right through her.
“Maybe a little,” she concedes.
“Is it the whole sugar daddy thing or did the doorman give you a hard time?” he teases, and Clarke feels a blush creep to her cheeks. He says sugar daddy in a teasing tone, like he isn’t quite comfortable with the phrase either. She recalls he’s relatively new to having this kind of money, so maybe this is all new to him too.
“Maybe it’s the fact that you don’t prioritize alphabetizing your books and I find that level of chaos terrifying,” she quips back. To her surprise, and perhaps to his too, a loud laugh escapes his lips. It’s a nice laugh. A warm one. Not the forced ones the others would give in an attempt to make Clarke like them. Bellamy actually thinks she’s funny.
“Well, it’s a miracle you haven’t run back to the elevator.”
“I still might,” she jokes, and he laughs again. Clarke relaxes into the couch, feeling a little less anxious. A smile tugs at her lips. She’s funny. Clarke might have no experience and is panicked over the prospect of the sugar daddy she picks rejecting her when he finds out she’s a virgin, but at the very least, she’s funny.
“I better talk fast, then,” he chuckles. Bellamy then tells her about himself, which is an odd way to start this off. Most start by asking Clarke questions. But not him. He talks about growing up poor with a single mom and a little sister to take care of. Then, he gets to discussing the tech company he built from the ground up. All of this, she already knew. Clarke read everything she could find on him before agreeing to this meeting. But despite knowing his story, it feels so different when she hears him tell it. He talks about his family with so much love, and that same passion comes out when he talks about his company. Here is a man who worked his ass off only in hopes of taking better care of his mother and sister. It’s hard not to be endeared by that. She’s hanging on his every word, so enraptured by his voice and the way he frantically moves his hands around as he speaks. He has nice hands. Big ones. She wonders how small her own hand would look in his.
“What about you?” he asks, and again, Clarke is confused. This isn’t at all how she expected this meeting to go. By this point, he should be asking about her STD tests and what kind of birth control she’s on.
“I’m a college student,” she says. “I’ll graduate from Arkadian this year.”
“What are you studying?”
“Art History.” Instinctively, she feels her body brace for whatever snarky remark is sure to come. To say it’s a sore spot would be a massive understatement. Telling people her major is a source of anxiety, and she mostly blames her mother for that. Yeah, she gets why everyone has the same knee jerk reaction. But it is the only thing in Clarke’s life that brings her joy. Without it, she isn’t sure how she would survive.
“So, you like art,” he replies, cocking his head to the side. “Do you draw or paint too?”
“Yeah. It’s how I spend my free time.” When she’s not too exhausted from working a double shift or staying up all night studying for an exam. “I’m okay at it,” she concedes.
“Just okay?” he smirks. “For some reason, I doubt that.”
They go back and forth like that for a few minutes. Clarke covers where she grew up, what her parents did, but she leaves out the most recent history with her mother. He has questions about her jobs and where she’s living, which she anticipated. He would want to know what other obligations she has, since that impacts how much time she can spend with him. She isn’t sure how much time he wants with her. Others have asked for one or two nights a week, but he hasn’t specified yet.
“Why are you interested in one of these arrangements?” he asks. Clarke blinks at him. This is the first question that actually feels like an interview question, but it’s one she’s never heard before. None of the others asked her. They probably didn’t care. Does Bellamy care? Or is this a test to make sure she’s serious?
To be honest, she hasn’t thought about the why. The money is the obvious answer, but there are dozens of other ways to make money. There’s a different pull for Clarke, one that makes her blush when she puts her finger on what it is. Despite all her cynicism while reading articles about being a sugar baby, one common argument tugs at something buried deep inside her.
She wants someone to take care of her for once.
“Honestly?” she asks, and he nods. Clarke has nothing to lose. If he doesn’t react well to her answer, she can leave and pick someone else. But it feels like she does have something to lose. She likes this one. He’s nice and funny and actually seems to be interested in what she’s saying. It would sting if he didn’t understand. “I’ve been on my own for a while now, and the idea of someone taking care of me sounds really nice,” she shrugs before ducking her head. It sounds childish and silly as soon as it’s out there. She sounds less like a 21-year-old and more like a small child.
Her heart pounds, filling the silence that follows. Bellamy is chewing on his bottom lip and still staring right at her, but she can’t read him.
When the silence grows too heavy, Clarke takes a chance and asks, “How about you?”
He shifts in his seat before his gaze fixes back on her. “Logistically, it works better for me. I don’t have much time for dating, and it’s not like I’ve ever been any good at it anyway,” he starts. Clarke doubts that. He’s probably an excellent boyfriend. “But I miss some parts of it.” He could just say he misses the sex. It’s not like any of the others have been shy about telling her how badly they want to fuck her. “And maybe I just like having someone to take care of.”
Bellamy tugs at his ear, the first nervous gesture she’s seen from him this whole time. It’s kind of endearing that he’s shy about admitting that. None of the others let their walls down enough for Clarke to see anything quite like that.
It’s already settled in her mind that Bellamy is the one she wants, but then he says, “I do have some conditions if you felt like I would be a good fit for you.” Her stomach drops. The last time she heard that, Roan was showing her his “dungeon.”
“Oh?” She tries not to let her anxiety show.
“For starters, you’re working way too many jobs. Ideally, you wouldn’t be working any of them.” Clarke lets out a breath. Provided that her allowance is high enough, it shouldn’t be an issue. She was hoping to be able to quit at least two of them anyway.
“Any others?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he says, pushing up on his chair so he sits upright now. “I would want you to live here.” Clarke furrows her brows. Here? He actually wants her to live with him? Isn’t part of the appeal of having a sugar baby that it’s not a real relationship? Clarke would exist when he wants her to and leave when he’s done with her. But if she lives here, there would be none of that. Her mind floods with questions like would she have her own room or would she be expected to sleep in his bed, but he interrupts the stream of questions and continues, “I know it’s a bit odd. Obviously, your compensation would be higher. We can negotiate what that entails, but with my schedule, it would just be easier to have you here. And I don’t really like living alone.”
There’s a slight shakiness in his voice right at the end. Barely noticeable. But it explains every odd thing about this interview. He’s lonely.
Why didn’t she recognize it earlier? Clarke is all too familiar with loneliness. These days, she feels so disconnected from the outside world that she wonders if anyone would notice if she just disappeared.
“Would those be deal breakers for you?” he asks.
“No.” The corners of his mouth tug upward. She should probably tell him that she’s a virgin before this goes any further. Clarke can already feel herself getting too hopeful. She needs to rip this band aid off now. “But I may have a deal breaker for you.”
“Oh?” His head cocks to the side, but the smile doesn’t leave his lips.
“I am fairly inexperienced,” she starts, dropping her gaze down to her fidgeting hands.
“Oh, that’s okay. It doesn’t take long to get adjusted to the set up and—”
“No, I mean I’m a virgin,” she blurts out.
Bellamy’s gaze grows heavier, and her skin turns hot. She can’t read his expression, but she does notice that one of his hands is gripping hard on his knee.
She wants to kick herself for not just losing it with Finn back in high school. Yeah, he was a dick who cheated on her and Raven, but at least it would be over with. Now, she’s approaching twenty-two with her virginity still hanging over her, and that might be the very thing that keeps this arrangement from going forward.
Bellamy clears his throat. “That’s, um, not a deal breaker for me,” he responds, his voice noticeably rougher than before. And she just sits there, stunned and confused.
Before she can add anything else, Bellamy jumps into the logistics. He already has a contract drawn up and highlights a few important sections. It’s all pretty standard. Nothing she hasn’t heard in the other meetings. Clarke zones in and out, figuring she could just read all this later if she misses something important.
Her thoughts zero in on him, on what this would actually look like. Being a sugar baby has been such an abstract concept, but now that she knows who it will be, it finally feels real. Bellamy will be her first. It’s a simultaneously nerve-wrecking and reassuring realization. He’s nice enough, not bad to look at, and seems to genuinely like her. She could do worse.
But it’s no longer this far off concept of something that would happen eventually. It’s happening, and soon.
Clarke’s thighs press together as she tries to pay attention. But her gaze falls to his mouth. Then, his hands. Creeps up to his forearms, getting lost in the toned muscle and bronze skin. What will it be like? Her only real understanding of sex comes from reading and watching porn, and that’s all fiction. Will it be good? Or will she be about as indifferent toward it as she is toward dating?
“Oh, shit,” he mutters, and that jerks Clarke back into focus. Bellamy is staring at his watch and jumping to his feet. “We ran over.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles as she pushes herself off the couch. “Didn’t mean to keep you.”
“No, it’s not your fault. I wasn’t thinking clearly when I scheduled my day,” he laughs. Bellamy’s hand finds the small of her back as they walk back toward the elevator. The heat of his hand bleeds through her thin dress, flooding her entire body with an unfamiliar warmth. “So, you will call when you’ve made your decision?” he asks.
His hand leaves her back as soon as the elevator is in sight, and Clarke has to fight not to pout. “Yes, I will,” she replies coolly. She and Raven practiced this part. Clarke didn’t want to come off too eager. And maybe if each one of them thought she had other options, they’d be more negotiable on her allowance.
But it’s definitely going to be Bellamy. Ignoring the fact that Clarke actually likes him as a person, it would be financially foolish if she didn’t pick him. Not only would she be making more with him, but she would also not have to pay rent for as long as this arrangement holds.
Bellamy presses the button for her, and they fall into an awkward silence as they wait for the elevator to arrive.
“It was lovely meeting you,” Clarke tells him when the doors open. Her heel keeps slipping out of her shoe and her legs still feel wobbly, but she thinks she manages to look confident as she strides into the elevator.
Before the doors shut, Bellamy sticks his hand out to stop them. “Wait,” he says, now standing between the doors so they can’t shut. “What would it take for you to say yes right now?”
Warmth pools in her belly at his impatience. He wants her, that much she knew. But like the others, Bellamy had to know there were dozens of girls like Clarke, all of whom probably know what they’re doing. She couldn’t make sense of his interest in her, at least not to the level of negotiating with her at their first meeting. She’s just another blonde from a sugar daddy website. A virgin who hasn’t been kissed in more than a year.
But it stirs something in her, much like his possessive hand on her back did. For once, Clarke feels wanted. Special.
He’s put her in a position where she could ask for anything she wanted. A higher allowance. Health insurance. Maybe even a little trust fund for after this arrangement is over. But the small negotiating power he’s given her is overpowered by her desire to know what his lips would feel like. All practical thoughts leave her mind as she fixates on his mouth.
“How about a kiss?” she asks. Bellamy laughs like it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever heard.
“You’re not much of a negotiator, are you?” he teases.
“Is that a no, then?” Her voice borderlines on bratty, and she immediately regrets her tone. Clarke has been known to get a bit mouthy, but she needs to watch it when it comes to Bellamy. He wants a sugar baby, not some bratty little girl.
“Come here,” he murmurs. His rough, low voice sends a shudder through her as she takes one step toward him. As soon as she’s within reach, his arm wraps around her waist and tugs her toward him. He smells good, like the cologne she finds samples of in magazines.
His hand tilts her chin up, and as she peers up at him, it strikes her how much bigger than her he is. He’s got at least half a foot on her, and she feels little in his big arms. It’s an overwhelming and confusing feeling, but she likes it. She’s being surrounded by him, and instead of feeling claustrophobic, she finds herself wanting to burrow further into him.
Their eyes lock. Clarke sucks in a shallow breath. Her stomach feels like it does on a rollercoaster when she knows the big drop is coming. And just as quickly as she’d find herself squealing in excitement while she plummets down the track, her body melts into his hold as his lips gently press into hers.