Chapter Text
John Murphy was a professional.
When he had started his photography career it had been with landscapes. He loved the way the light hit the Hollywood hills at sunset and made the whole thing look like it was made of soft glowing embers, or the way the waves crashed on the rocks in Malibu and the spray looked like diamonds on the ever blue backdrop of the sky. And he was pretty good, if he did say so himself. But landscape photography barely pays, so he had to find a side gig.
That’s when he discovered boudoir.
Although, it was probably more Emori’s fault. His ex-girlfriend was always a little on the wild side. The two of them always found new and unique ways of getting into trouble together while they dated. One night they had been hanging out with her college roommate, Raven, when the idea came up after far too many shots of tequila.
“Hey John,” she called out, draped half over his couch and half over Raven, looking gorgeous as ever.
“Yes darling?” Murphy teased back.
Her nose wrinkled at him but she ignored it. “Why do you never take pictures of me?”
“I take pictures of you,” Murphy said, furrowing his brow. “I mean, have you looked at my phone?”
“That isn’t what I mean,” Emori said.
Raven looked at Emori and then smirked at Murphy. “She means sexy pictures.”
Murphy’s eyebrows shot into his hairline and his mouth went dry. “You want.., I mean, would you like me to?”
Emori grinned, cat like, in his direction. “We could start now?”
And then she was crawling on Raven’s lap. Part of him thought the other woman would complain but instead she just slipped her fingers into Emori’s hair and pulled lightly, exposing the other girl’s throat. Her eyes locked on Murphy’s. “No time like the present.”
That was the night it all started. The pictures weren’t the best he had done, all three of them too drunk for any real poses or finesse. But since the night included two of the hottest women he had even seen naked and splayed out on display for him, well, the quality didn’t much matter.
Truthfully, the images that night were not the kind of thing he wanted to produce. Though he had never had better fab material in his life as when Emori and Raven gifted him a book of their favorites (the cover having Emori’s head between Raven’s legs). But they did spark an idea.
Because, fuck, he live in Los Angeles. The most vain city in the world. Why should he make his money in some bullshit retail job or at some fucking restaurant when there were crowds of people who wanted to get their picture taken? And just as many who would take their clothes off.
Thus, Murphy’s Boudoir Company was born.
Raven and Emoi actually helped him start things up. They both let him take better, and much more sober, pictures of them. And all three of them were more than a little shocked to discover that he was actually really damn good at it.
Over the next five years his clientele grew. What started as bored housewives booking him for gifts for their husbands or brides-to-be getting gifts for their future spouse blossomed quickly. And as many things do in Hollywood, celebrities began to take notice. When that happened his career took off running and, before he knew it, he was making six figures a shoot.
He had even begun to be booked out for other things like headshots or marketing for movies and tv shows. All in all, even Murphy had to admit that things were going pretty well for him. Ok, they were going fucking awesome.
Even when his personal life became less than impressive he was still in a good place. He and Emori had fizzled while she had heated up with Raven. He didn’t blame her and there was no animosity. They even invited him to their bed now and then which he was happy to oblige. Two gorgeous women, naked and willig for him? Yeah, it was always a good time.
But Murphy had become married to his work. More often than not he was working upwards of sixty hours a week between the shoots, editing, printing, and marketing he did. Where was he supposed to find time for love?
It was ironic though. He spent so many hours taking pictures of beautiful people taking their clothes off and yet he got laid, at best, once a month. Yet he couldn’t complain. He was happy with his life, happy with his job, and he couldn’t imagine it any other way.
Which was, of course, when he met the woman who would throw a wrench in everything.
It was a week before Christmas when it happened. The weird thing about shooting schedules in Hollywood was they rarely happened when you would expect. Christmas movie? Probably filmed in April. Summer blockbuster? Probably around Thanksgiving. Ads for sweaters were filmed in the dead of summer and bikini spreads in December.
Which is why his latest project had him wrapped in a thick coat and beanie being assaulted by winter winds on the sands of Malibu. He thought he heard this was for some perfume ad or something but at this point he didn’t really give a shit. He just felt mad for whatever model they had gotten to strip down in fifty degree weather. It took everything to keep his hands from shaking as he took his test shots of the rocks and other landscape they would be shooting on.
“It’s fucking freezing,” Murphy grumbled to the production assistant, a guy named Miller who was bunded equally as well.
The man snorted. “Then let’s hope the Princess can get through her shots quickly so we can all go warm up with some whiskey, yeah?”
“Only if you’re buying,” the shoot director joked. He was a dude named Roan who was so jacked he looked like he should be on the cover of some romance novel, not the one directing someone how to be on one. Though, maybe it helped one to be the other.
Murphy was about to quip back something snarky but his eyes caught a figure descending the stairs closest to them and the words died in his throat.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t know who Clarke Griffin was. He had eyes after all. She had graced the cover of Vogue, Cosmopolitan, and was a favorite every year at the Met. Her mother was the Academy Award winning actress, Abbey Griffin, and her father was an equally talented director. She was the princess of Hollywood and had cultivated an illustrious career of her own as a model and actress. It cost top dollar to hire her for a project like this.
So yes, he knew who Clarke Griffin was. But seeing her in person as something entirely different from seeing her in pictures or movies.
From the moment she stepped onto the set she glowed. Her golden blonde hair was in loose curls that tumbled down her back and her sapphire eyes shone brighter than the sun. But that wasn’t what stood out the most. She was casually confident, smiling at everyone around her. Her magnetism drew everyone in. And when she laughed others couldn’t help but join. She was efervescent and beautiful and Murphy was completely and totally fucked.
When Clarke approached the area he had been standing in she smiled wide and came up to them, throwing her arms around Roan with a laugh.
“It’s so good to see you,” she told him. “When I heard about this shoot I was already intrigued but then I found out you were the director I had to take it. What is the great and professional Roan doing directing a Dior commercial?”
Roan rolled his eyes. “It was Wells idea. He said it would be good to broaden my horizons.”
“Your husband has always had an interesting take on things,” Clarke teased.
“You would know,” Roan smirked. “He has been your best friend for the last two decades or so. Why didn’t you tell him I am perfectly happy doing runway and high fashion?”
“It’s adorable that you think he ever listens to me,” Clarke deadpanned. But even she couldn’t help the grin that broke through after a moment.
Roan just shook his head and slung an arm around her shoulder. “Come on, we don’t want to lose the light.”
As she turned she finally caught Murphy’s eye and her eyebrows raised. She looked him up and down slowly and he suddenly regretted his unshapely North Face jacket. “Oh,” she drawled a bit with a lazy smile, “and who might you be?”
Murphy swallowed and switched his camera to his left hand so he could offer his right to her. “I’m John Murphy, your photographer today.”
“I like the sound of that,” she said, shaking his hand and not letting go for a moment or two longer than expected. “Did you hear, Roan? He’s my photographer for the day.”
“I don’t care whose bloody photographer he is as long as he can get us in and out of here quickly,” Roan muttered gruffly.
“So, ” Clarke said teasingly, “are you going to be quick or take your time?”
The way her eyes sparkled at him went straight to his cock. He couldn’t help his smirk back at her. “Whichever the lady prefers.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to like you John,” Clarke said, raising her eyebrow and looking him up and down once again.
“Just Murphy,” he told her. “No one calls me John.”
“Whatever you say,” Clarke said with a grin. “So, where do you want me?”
With that she let the robe fall from her shoulders and Murphy took an involuntary breath. Without meaning to the first answer that popped in his head was not one you should tell to a beautiful woman you had just met. She was dressed in a barely-there bikini that was royal blue and made her bronzed skin glow. If her words weren’t enough to undo him the sight of her full breasts stretching out the lacy fabric of the bikini top was. His eyes took in every inch of her skin and his mouth went dry.
It was going to be a long day. But he was not complaining. And if the look she was giving him was any indication she wasn’t either.
To Murphy’s surprise he and Clarke seemed to work well together. Despite her earlier flirting she proved to be a total professional and it was easy for Murphy to slip back into his role the second he held the camera up to his eye. Even though it was their first time working together they got into an easy rhythm quickly. She took direction well and was a natural. He had a feeling he was going to have trouble picking just a few shots from this session.
It wasn’t long before Roan was calling it a wrap, making Clarke flop inelegantly onto the sand and Murphy smiled, satisfied that he had his shot. When he looked at the camera memory he saw he had over two hundred pictures and his eyebrows shot into his hairline. He looked at his watch and was shocked. It had been more than two hours.
But when his eyes met Clarke’s he realized why as she smiled at him lazily while she slipped back into her robe. Yeah, losing hours with her would be easy. Which meant she was dangerous.
“So,” she said, trailing her hands along his shoulders as she passed, “what did I hear earlier about drinks?”
“Oh fuck yeah,” Miller said with the first smile Murphy had seen all day as he grabbed his phone. “I’m calling Monty.”
Roan groaned out loud. “God, must you? If you invite him he’ll invite Jasper and then my good mood will be ruined.”
“You were in a good mood?” Clarke quipped. Roan ignored her.
“He’s literally my husband,” Miller rolled his eyes. “I am inviting him and you are just going to have to deal.”
“So what do you say?” Clarke asked Murphy and bit her lower lip.
He should’ve said no. He should’ve gone home and started sorting through the pictures he took that day and maybe even started the edits. He absolutely should not be going to a bar and taking shots with a beautiful woman who he knew was trouble.
So of course, he did the exact opposite. “Sounds fun.”
He was so royally fucked.
Murphy decided it was time to call in the cavalry and texted Emori and Raven.
Grounders. Work people, Roan Azgeda and Clarke Griffin included. You down? -M
Drinks, pool, and hot celebs? What do you think? - R
What she means is we’ll be there. -E
You guys are lifesavers -M
Obviously ;) -E
By the time they made it to Grounders the small outing had, somehow, expanded. One person invited one person and, before he knew it they had nearly shut the place down just with their guests alone. Emori and Raven had beaten him there since he had to go home first to drop his stuff and change.
Admittedly, he was kind of glad that they were there first which gave him an excuse to not stare at Clarke the entire time. Instead he played pool with Raven and introduced Emori to Roan. He got to meet the infamous Monty and Jasper, best friends and special effects coordinators who specialized in pyrotechnics. And were, apparently, always high.
All in all they made for good distractions.
Which is how he nearly missed it when none other than Bellamy Blake walked in. Though he wasn’t sure he could have considering the fanfare surrounding him the moment he walked in the room. Murphy had to pick his jaw up off the floor. With dark curls wild and a leather jacket draped over a blue henley he was gorgeous even looking casual and cool. His smile was warm when he noticed Clarke and wrapped her in a tight hug.
That’s when all the rumors Murphy had heard came crashing back and suddenly he felt like an idiot.
Bellamy was another model who was in high demand but these days he was better known for his acting. Most recently he had been a lead in a post-apocalyptic show for a few seasons. A show in which Clarke starred in. The pair had been friends a long time but with their chemistry on-screen rumors began to spread that it was quite a bit more than that.
Looking at them now he could see why. Together the two were electric, even from this far across the bar. It was obvious they were something . The way Clarke leaned in close to whisper in his ear and the way his smile grew even brighter as he laughed. The way her hand lingered on his arm where it rested on the table beside them. The way her eyes rarely left his.
Murphy wanted to feel jealous but all he could seem to call up was longing and he had no idea how to deal with that. So instead he turned his head back to his pool game, missed his shot badly, and swore.
“You know,” Raven said beside him, hip cocked and head tilted, “I thought he’d be taller.”
Murphy barked out a surprised laugh and shoved her lightly. But it worked to get his mind onto other things. At least a bit.
“Don’t look now,” Emori told him quietly, “but I think he and Clarke are coming this way.”
Murphy turned around so fast he nearly tripped and Raven laughed. He stepped on her foot which just made her laugh more. He knew she had technically invited him but that didn’t mean he actually thought she would hang out with him .
And it certainly didn’t mean he thought that would include Bellamy fucking Blake. Murphy was so screwed.
“Murphy!” Clarke said when she reached them. “I am so glad you are here. And you brought friends!”
“Raven, Emori,” Murphy said, gesturing to the other two women, “this is Clarke Griffin. Clarke, this is Raven and Emori.”
“So which one is the girlfriend,” Clarke asked, eyeing the two girls with a smile.
“Neither,” Emori answered, wrapping her arm around Raven’s waist with a wicked grin. “The only relationship John’s in is with his job.”
Murphy knew that smile. That was her scheming smile. Nothing good could come of this. He knew he should have just gone home.
Clarke raised an eyebrow at him and smiled. “Is that right, John? ”
Murphy chuckled at her use of his name and shook his head. “Something like that.”
“Well that does surprise me,” Clake continued. She looked him up and down again and, really, she had to stop doing that.
But then she turned to her, thussofar, quiet companion with a smile. “Anyways, I wanted you to meet someone. This is Bellamy Blake, one of my best friends. I didn’t even think he was coming until I was halfway here.”
Bellamy’s smile was blinding and Murphy’s stomach flipped for reasons he was not about to analyze. Nope. Not at all. He cleared his throat and hoped it wasn’t too obvious how wrecked he currently felt.
“Nice to meet you,” Bellamy said, holding out his hand. “Clarke told me you did a good job today. Which is impressive since not many people can get her to follow orders.”
Murphy heard Raven choke on her drink behind him and he tried his best not to feel vindicated. Or flustered. Whatever.
“It wasn’t too hard,” he said. “Honestly she was pretty willing to do what I said.”
Bellamy was quiet a moment and Murphy thought he had fucked up but then the man started laughing and Murphy joined. And Clarke’s smile never left her face. He decided to take all of that as a good sign.
“Clarke was right,” Bellamy said, slinging an arm around Murphy’s shoulder and getting a bit closer than necessary. “I am going to like you. This should be fun.”
And then the two of them were gone with nothing more than a small wave and wink from Clarke. Murphy watched the two of them walk away, completely dumbstruck.
“What the fuck just happened?” Murphy said, not exactly to anyone or expecting a response.
Emori came up beside him and whistled as Bellamy and Clarke disappeared into the crowd. “Well, if I’m not mistaken, I’m fairly certain you just got hit on. By both of them.”
Murphy looked at her with wide eyes, unable to deny her words. Somehow, completely unexpectedly, he was fairly certain had just been hit on by two of the most desirable models in the industry.
So what the fuck was he supposed to do now?
*****
Clarke couldn’t help herself when she winked over her shoulder at Murphy as she started to leave the bar. He was cute when he was flustered, sue her.
The truth was she had no idea what was going to happen with him. It wouldn’t be the first time she and Bellamy hit on someone together and wouldn’t be the last. Shame wasn’t really a part of their relationship and the worst that could happen was he would say no.
The moment they got in Bellamy’s town car he is on her with his lips attached to her neck and his hand up the skirt of her dress. She loved it when he got like this. He had her panting in moments.
“Oh fuck, Bell,” she moaned as she buked against his hand.
“God baby,” Bellamy muttered against her neck. “Do you have any idea what it does to me when you find a new toy for us? Show me how badly you want him.”
She kissed him deep and rough, biting his lip and scraping her teeth along his tongue. His fingers sped up on her clit and she started to reach for his fly but he swatted her hand away, shaking her head. Clarke let out a shaky breath and nodded, sitting back and spreading her legs more fully for him.
“Here’s what I think,” Bellamy told her, deep tones reverberating through her chest. “I think you want him. Really want him. I think you want his head between your legs and his hands on your tits.”
Clarke gasped as Bellamy grabbed her breast hard and she shuddered out a breath. She nodded, unable to find words. His grin was greedy in response.
“Do you want Murphy to taste you?” Bellamy phrased it as a question but he already knew the answer. “I was watching him watch you. He wants you too, baby. You ready to get him under you? You ready to ride his cock, baby girl? Or maybe I should take him from you.”
Clarke let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a whine at her lover's words and he took it as his chance to push his fingers deep inside her, making her call out his name.
“Say his name baby,” Bellamy purred in her ear, pumping in and out of her pussy faster and faster. “Say it.”
“Murphy!” Clarke’s voice was wrecked as the other man’s name tumbled from lips and not a moment later she was cumming all over Bellamy’s hand.
He slowly brought her down with kisses on her neck and shoulder as he slowly ran his finger tips over her sensitive cunt. Clarke kissed him back lazily until she felt like she could breathe normally.
Clarke kissed him soundly after a few minutes and then pulled back with a satisfied smile. “So I did good, baby? Can we play with him?”
“Darling,” He told her, pulling him tighter against his side, “we can do far more than play with him. If you can get him and he is willing then I say we keep him.”
Clarke sat back, excited and scheming. Obviously she had no way of knowing if Murpy would be down. She barely knew him, after all. But if the way he was looking at her and even at Bellamy was any indication, she had a feeling she wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.
She couldn’t wait to get home to show Bellamy exactly how excited she was. That, and maybe get to hear Murphy’s name from his mouth as well.
This was gonna be fun. Now she just had to figure out the best way to go about this. And she had a few ideas on just how to get her way.