"You're failing Chemistry?" Clarke accuses irritatedly as her hand drops Bellamy's most recent test— complete with a whopping 54 at the top of the page circled in bright red marker— on his bed in front of him. He groans, cursing under his breath as he massages the bridge of his nose, knowing that the fight he's going to have with his girlfriend is going to be a rough one. He takes out his earbuds and places the homework he'd been doing on his desk, gesturing for her to sit across from him but she just stands in the center of his dorm and he can practically feel the indignation radiating off of her.

"Clarke, not all of us are doctors here. For fuck's sake, I'm a history major; I'm not supposed to know about compounds and their moles." She opens her mouth, most likely to correct his sentence, but he silences her with a look. He sighs as she finally sits at the foot of his bed, crossing her legs in front of her as she faces him. They stare at each other silently for a moment, before he shrugs his shoulders and drops his eyes to the space between them, his fingers picking at the frayed strings of his blanket. "I think I'm just not smart enough for it to stick; I read through the notes again and again, but when it comes time for the test… I still just don't understand any of it."

Clarke makes a noise, and his eyes fly to her face— afraid that she'll pity him for not being as smart as her, or worse, judge him for it. Instead he finds that she looks determined, her lips slightly pursed and a crease between her eyebrows, and he feels nervousness settle in his gut. There are a few things that he's learned about his girlfriend over the past two years of dating her, and one of them is that she's almost always unstoppable when she sets her mind to something.

"It sounds like you need a different way to study, something a bit more… memorable. Something that will stick." She leans over to grab his notebook off of his desk and flips until she finds his most recent notes. Her eyes skim the page for a moment before they light up. "Oh! You're working with moles, I loved that unit."

He arches an eyebrow up, one corner of his mouth lifting at her excitement. "You're such a nerd." he says, but even he can hear how loving it sounds coming from his own lips, and it's not a glare that she looks at him with but a small grin that she saves just for him.

"Yeah, well I'm a nerd who is going to help you pass Chemistry, so settle in because we've got work to do." He groans and lightly bangs his head against the headboard of his bed as he tips his head back. She's silent for a moment, before she mumbles an okay and when he looks back at her she has a look in her eye that has him on edge.

"What is stoichiometry?" He feels his eyebrows draw together in offense, because honestly he's not that stupid, but she gestures him to answer with her hands, and he huffs irritably.

"It's all about masses of chemical reactants," he answers, and she nods excitedly, before slipping off the bracelet he got her for her birthday and placing it carefully on the blanket beside her. He blinks a few times in confusion, wondering why she took it off, but he doesn't have time to figure it out before she's already onto the next question.

"What do you measure the mass of chemical reactants in?" His frown deepens, and she smiles at him, reaching up for the clasp of her necklace as he answers.

"You measure it in moles…" his voice drifts off as she takes the necklace off, and she hurriedly asks him the next question as he begins to ask why she's doing that.

"And what do you use to figure out the moles of reactants?" she says, and she seems twitchy all of a sudden. He hesitates, his curiosity getting the better of him, and she tsks in irritation. "Bell, answer the damn question."

"Uh, molar ratios?" His answer sounds like more of a question than an answer, but she smiles at him anyway before her teeth bite enticingly into the lower lip that he's had between his own teeth so many times, and her fingers find the zipper of her jacket as she slowly pulls it down to reveal her t-shirt underneath. Had she done it differently, as though she was just getting comfortable, he probably wouldn't have questioned it— but her eyes meet his shyly from underneath her lashes, and he shifts slightly on the bed.

"What-" he stops to clear his throat, noticing that his voice has dropped. "What are you doing?"

"Here are the rules," she starts as she shrugs her arms out of her sleeves one at a time, her eyes never leaving his. "For every question you get right, I'll take something off. If you can get me naked by the time we finish the notes… You win."

"What do I win?" He asks, swallowing thickly at the sudden tension in the air between them. She drops her jacket to the grounder before standing up and quickly moving across the room to lock the door— a smart idea, honestly, because nothing kills the mood like Miller walking in while they're fucking. She looks over her shoulder at him from the door, and his breath leaves him in a rush.

"What do you want?" she asks lowly, and he swears lowly as his cock twitches to life at the thought of having her spread out beneath him at some point tonight. He grabs two handfuls of denim at his knees and tugs, trying to adjust his pants at the sudden tightness. She laughs quietly as she sits across from him again, and picks the notebook back up. "Where were we… Got it. Alright, next question— what is the mass of one atom of carbon?"

He can barely think, with all the blood rushing south faster than he can process, and he blurts out the first number that comes to mind. "Seven." She purses her lips, and shakes her head and he wants to pray, or maybe even cry because all he can think of is her revealing more of her soft skin to him.

"Next one, where can you find the atomic mass of an element on the periodic table?" Better question, can I fuck you on a table? He shakes the thought from his mind, trying to focus on Chemistry and the victory he's desperate to claim.

"At the bottom of each elemental box." She smiles at him, but he barely sees it as her arms cross over her stomach and her hands find the hem of her t-shirt, which he belatedly realizes is actually one of his old band tees. She pulls it up slowly, and his eyes rake over ever inch of skin that she exposes to him. She pulls the shirt over her head to reveal a simple, white striped bra that has his pulse racing— it isn't so much the bra so much as how many times he's taken it off of her, memories flashing behind his eyes as he thinks of each time he's had her desperate for him and stripped her down. He finds it a bit astonishing the effect that she has on him without even trying. She could be wearing a sack, and he'd be desperate to get her out of it.

"Very good. Where are the organic elements found?" Her voice sounds shaky, and he knows by the flush of red covering her chest and face that she's just as turned on as he is. She licks her lips and he groans, watching the tip of her tongue trace her lips the way he so desperately wants his own to. She squirms a bit at the sound, and he's so close to saying fuck the game but he can tell that she's still thinking with her head, unlike he is, so she urges him on with her eyes.

"To the right of the steps," he answers cryptically, feeling more frustrated with this game with each second that passes. She seems as desperate to be rid of her clothes as he is, so she accepts his answer, her hands going to her back to unclip her bra but he stops her. "Wait!" he says, and her eyes snap to his, her arms still behind her back, giving him the most glorious view of her cleavage, and he swears he could die happy if this were to be his last sight. "Fuck, um— pants," he stutters, almost forgetting why he stopped her in the first place. She nods and sets to work on the button of her jeans, huffing when her fingers won't seem to work. He practically cheers at the excuse to touch her, scooting closer and moving her hands out of the way as his fingers make quick work of the button. "I swear to God, Clarke. When I win, you're gonna feel like you won because I'm going to make you fucking scream," he whispers, his lips barely grazing the shell of her ear as he rests his forehead against her hair. She takes a shaky breath as he slides the zipper down, and he shudders at the sound. "I'm going to make it so good for you, baby. I promise."

He slides off the bed, grabbing her legs and swinging them around so they dangle off the bed. He leans over her, his lips pressing into hers as his fingers find the loops on her jeans. She moans into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, and he lets out a groan of his own in response. Her hips lift to help him slide her jeans down, and he can just barely feel her lower body graze his, and his breath leaves him in a rush as his cock twitches in anticipation. She lets out a sound of need beneath him and tears her mouth from his.

"Bell, stop. We have to finish study- oh God," she cuts off in a moan as his lips find her neck and her fingers weave into his hair and tug as he nips at the soft skin of her neck, and his eyes roll back at the sting.

"Fuck the game," he grinds out from between clenched teeth before her pants are on the ground and his body covers hers; he has only a moment to see her shocked expression as she realizes that she's on her back beneath him before his mouth claims hers again and his tongue slips into her mouth. He moans in the back of his throat as she arches up to grind against him. His head flies back as his hands dig into her hips, pressing her to him as he rocks against her.

Her hands are on his stomach as she slips his shirt up over his head, and her lips trail hot, wet kisses down his chest as she pushes him back. "This is supposed to be a reward, remember?" Her voice is breathy with need, and he watches her struggle with the button of his jeans through half lidded eyes. She finally gets it open and his jeans and boxers are off a moment later, and she wraps a hand around him. He hisses through his teeth at the feeling, his hips thrusting up into her hand as she strokes him slowly. She gives him a sultry look as she bends her head to take the head of his cock into her mouth and he swears he's died and gone to heaven.

His hands fist the blanket at his sides as she works him with her mouth, and he can hear himself mumbling incoherent nonsense about how good it feels and how hot she looks, and how she's going to make him come. She moans around him, and he releases his deathgrip on the sheet to push up on her shoulders, lifting her away from him. She eyes him worriedly for a moment before his hands are on her again, making quick work of her remaining clothes. She grins at him as she stands up to help him remove her panties, and huskily asks, "What's wrong, Bell? I thought it would be a nice reward."

"The only thing I want right now is to be inside of you," he replies, pulling her onto his lap. He runs his fingertips over her and finds her practically dripping for him. "Jesus fucking Christ, so wet. Always so wet for me." She whimpers in response and she grinds down against his cock and his head slams back into the headboard at the feel. He barely feels it though as she takes his cock in her hand once more and lines him up, sliding down slowly, inch by inch. They both moan once he's fully inside her and he watches her eyes roll back into her head at the feeling.

"I'm gonna make you come so fucking hard, princess. So. Fucking. Hard," he promises, his arm going around her hips to steady her as he thrusts up into her forcefully. She grips his shoulders hard, her nails biting into his skin and he grunts as she begins to move with him. He stares at her, their breath mingling as she rides him hard and fast, and he knows that he's too worked up— already too close.

His thumb finds her clit, and he rubs it in small circles, feeling his cock stiffen further at the wild sounds she's making. He can feel her tighten around him, and he speeds up— his hips practically snapping into hers as he rubs faster.

"Oh god, oh- I'm, I'm gonna-" she cries out above him, and he reaches up to roll her nipple between his fingers.

"Come for me, princess," he mumbles, his eyes on her face as her mouth drops open in a silent scream as she clenches around him and he moans as his name slips from her lips.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckshitfuck, he thinks to himself as he buries his face in her neck and gives in— pleasure exploding behind his eyelids as every muscle in his body locks. He grips her hips tightly to his as he comes for what feels like minutes as her spasms drag it out even longer, before he snaps back into the world around him; his breath coming in short gasps against her shoulder. Her arms are hanging limply around his neck, and he can feel her hands rested like dead-weight against his back.

He scoots his body down a few inches so he can lay back, taking her with him so that she's draped across his chest as they both struggle to regulate their breathing.

"Holy shit," he says hoarsely a few minutes later once he's certain he can form a sentence. " We should study together more often." She laughs quietly, and he joins in, feeling playful and sated.

"There's no way you're going to remember anything of that. Next time, we're meeting in the library." She looks up at him and gives him a little grin, and he leans down to press a sweet kiss to her lips.

"Hey, I'm not against the stacks, you've just got to be quiet," he replies, and she smacks his chest lightly.

"You're a bonehead," she mumbles, but he can hear the smile in her voice as she says it, and he runs a hand from the top of her head down to rest at her lower back as she snuggles in closer to him.

"Love you too, Princess."

"Love you more, idiot."