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Clarke doesn’t know how it starts. Actually, scratch that, she definitely does.
Her little “problem” with two of the most attractive people she’s ever seen started when she first met Bellamy Blake, because, well, the Blake’s have some damn good genes, okay?
After running into his almost-sweaty chest while he helped cart his sister’s seemingly-infinite boxes of stuff up the three flights of steps to their freshman dorm room, she’d been all too aware of her new roommate’s older brother.
And how unfortunate it was. He was a senior that year and thus around campus (and therefore her room) far more often than she thinks is healthy for her. She’d walk back from her shower down the hall in her robe and old black flip flops and find him reclining on her roommate’s unmade bed with his arms behind his head. Does he even realize he has disgustingly great arms?
(Of course he does)
So freshman year was. . . fun. She definitely does not still have a monstrous crush on him. Nope. You must be thinking of someone else. It’s not like she gets all hot and bothered when he stretches his arms above his head and she can see the taught line of skin of his lower stomach or that she can’t help but rub her thighs together when she catches sight of the line of dark hair leading down below his belt. And so what if she thinks his (fucking annoying) smirk is actually one of the hottest expressions he has to offer?
She’d almost (almost) been relieved to get a new roommate sophomore year. . . until she’d realized she’d landed a roommate equally as hot as Bellamy Blake. Raven Reyes (maybe it had something to do with alliterative names?) was the naturally gorgeous beauty that looked good in anything and wouldn’t hesitate to kick you where it hurt if she thought it was necessary.
Unwashed sweatpants and grimy t-shirts? The rolled waistband would sink low over her slender hips, revealing the thin line of lace of her underwear. Sports bras? She’s like a workout machine, dragging herself to the gym every morning in one of her bras with all the confusing, overlapping straps that seemed less functional and more fashionable but Clarke still isn’t going to complain.
Hell, she looks even better when she comes back from the gym, all flushed skin and sweat slick skin and lithe muscles.
Basically, Clarke is surrounded by hot people and she doesn’t know how much longer she can take it. She and Raven get along decently as roommates, and Raven even bro’s around with Bellamy when he stops by (far too frequently to just “stop by” if you ask Clarke). And yeah, she also hates pants so that’s another bonus.
The only thing Clarke isn’t sure of is what’s going to happen next.
Bellamy has just stopped by after visiting his sister. He’s a grad student now, still on the same campus, and still around. Just her luck. Everything had been going rather innocently (well, innocent enough. Raven’s kinda got a mouth on her and she’s still not wearing any pants, walking around their room in a thin tank top and boy short underwear) until Raven pulled the hidden bottle of tequila out from behind her dresser.
After that, it’s all laughs and dares and pounding hearts and teasing smiles. Bellamy walks into the girls’ hall bathroom and has to try to hit on the first girl who comes in (of course she gives him her number, what an ass). Raven does a headstand with her legs leaning against the back of the door until her face is purple and by that time they’re all only slightly tipsy.
When it’s Clarke’s turn for a dare and it’s Raven’s turn to give her one, her roommate offers a shit-eating grin and gestures between Clarke and Bellamy.
“Kiss him.”
Clarke’s heart thrums in her chest, already-flushed cheeks stained darker. It’s not like she’d been hoping something like this would happen. Not at all. And it’s also not like she’s thought about kissing him before (the prospect of his mouth against hers does not do things for. . . much).
“I don’t bite, Princess,” he smirks with his stupid sex hair curling over his forehead and fuck, how’s she supposed to resist him?
“Well I do,” she says in a sudden burst of alcohol-induced confidence. A sly, sweet smile plays at her lips while she slinks across the floor to kneel between his parted legs and kiss the living daylights out of him.
His lips are soft and slightly stiff against hers at first, and she can feel the rough barely-there stubble rasping against her skin, but then his hand brushes her waist and damn if there’s one thing she’s thought about more than his lips, it’s his hands.
She hears Raven mumble something when Clarke slides her fingers through the curls at the base of his neck and slants her mouth over his, pulling him closer because she wants him to kiss her back like he means it.
And it works (just like it should, she’s a damn good kisser). His hands tighten on her waist, pulling her closer against his firm chest while he deepens the kiss further, sweeping his tongue through her mouth.
When she’s pulling away, she nips at his lip because if staring inconspicuously (or obviously) at Bellamy’s biceps is enough to send heat rushing straight through her, tasting tequila on his tongue and feeling his broad hand grasping her hip is enough to do unspeakable things to her panties.
“Well, uh,” Raven laughs breathlessly and Clarke retreats to her point of the triangle they’d sat in on the floor. She doesn’t feel like blushing anymore. Not with the open-mouthed look of surprise plastered to Bellamy’s face. And surprisingly, knowing that Raven was watching only sent sparks through her chest.
It all escalates rather quickly from there.
Clarke watches as Bellamy leans over to kiss Raven next, and Clarke’s thighs clench a little tighter from where she’s kneeling on the floor. She can see Raven’s hand tighten on his shoulder and she just knows that he’s opened his mouth against hers.
“Holy shit,” Clarke mutters as her eyes trace down the arch of Raven’s throat, watching the line of her cleavage deepen with every gasping breath.
Even though she can still feel the alcohol in her system, she knows it’s wearing off fast and what they’re probably about to do is entirely too obvious.
“Well there’s only one thing left to do next,” Raven says with a mock sigh after she and Bellamy break apart.
Clarke swallows the knot in her throat, breaths coming a bit faster.
Raven turns to her, her lower lip drawn between her teeth. “Well?”
Clarke can’t hold back her grin as the other girl crawls the few steps towards her. And then she’s so close she can smell Raven’s musky perfume and the clean, coconut cream of her shampoo.
Clarke closes the distance between them, their lips meeting in a hot flash of teeth and tongue, all pretenses out the window. A shock of heat throbs down her spine when Raven’s hands come up to either side of her face, tilting her head to the side so their mouths move together just so.
Raven kisses like a hurricane, all intense presses of her open lips and tongue into her mouth. She kisses like she means it, different than Bellamy but definitely (definitely) not a bad kind of different.
When they pull away from each other, foreheads resting together, Clarke’s hands tremble where they rested around Raven’s shoulders.
“Fuck,” Bellamy mutters and the two girls glance at each other, smirking. Wisps of Raven’s hair are falling from her pony tail, framing her flushed cheeks and dark eyes.
“So we gonna do this?” Raven asks, looking between them.
Clarke lets her hands slip from Raven’s shoulders to rest on the girl’s thighs. She shifts from leg to leg, well aware of the heavy dampness in her panties. She’s never really given it serious thought but now that she thinks about sex with multiple people, why hasn’t she?! Hell, she’s into Raven and she’s into Bellamy and as long as they’re into her and each other, why shouldn’t they?
“I’m down,” Clarke says, trying (and failing) to contain the excitement in her voice.
Bellamy rubs a hand down his face. “Fuck, yes.”
They fumble around a little to begin with, because they’re an odd number and it’s hard not to exclude someone if two of them get caught up in what they’re doing, but all of them manage to cooperate enough to get on Raven’s bed, shedding clothes all the way.
Raven pulls Clarke’s tank top over her head in a hurry while Bellamy’s thumbs hook into the waistband of her sleep shorts and slide them slowly down her legs.
Then Raven’s pulling at Bellamy’s shirt while Clarke wrangles Raven’s tank top over her head. Raven doesn’t even have any pants on because she really just fucking hates pants, so they both fumble in a tangle of hands with Bellamy’s jeans and shove them over his ass.
“So we’re all sure we’re okay with this?” Clarke asks again for good measure.
“Hell yeah,” Raven says through a quick nod and Bellamy’s just as eager.
“Just making sure,” Clarke says but then Raven’s hopping up on the bed and Bellamy’s lifting her up under her thighs and she can’t hold in a yelp, her fingers into the bunching muscles in his shoulders.
“I wanna go first,” Raven says slyly, wiggling in the bed between them. It’s only a twin, so they’re sitting sideways on it, Bellamy’s legs hanging off the edge, Clarke’s tucked under her.
Clarke nods, tearing her eyes away from the obvious bulge pressing against Bellamy’s dark boxer briefs. He readjusts himself and glances up to meet her eyes. She can picture a vague tangle of sweaty limbs and hands and mouths and shifts under his gaze, trying not to follow the hard line of him under his briefs.
But then Raven’s pulling at Clarke’s head, drawing their lips together and the image of Bellamy’s arousal fades from her mind, replaced with the heat of Raven’s mouth and the feeling of her fingers slipping around to unhook her bra.
Bellamy tugs Raven backwards into his lap while Clarke’s fingers drift down Raven’s flat stomach, hooking in the waistband of her panties.
“This okay?” she murmurs while Raven leans against Bellamy’s chest as he kisses along the curve of her shoulder and throat.
Raven nods breathlessly and Clarke sinks down her body, pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses down her torso, heat flooding through her at the way Raven’s muscular body moves and twitches and stretches beneath her.
She’s pulling her boy-short underwear down her legs all the while, and Clarke finally positions herself between Raven’s firm thighs, she glances up from the patch of dark curls. Raven’s watching her with half lidded eyes, nodding for her to continue, while Bellamy’s broad palms ruck up her sports bra, thumbs catching over her dusky nipples.
“How about this?” Clarke asks, kissing her inner thigh, nipping at her smooth skin. Raven’s muscles tremble over her shoulder and doesn’t break eye contact, just nodding.
“Just fuck her already,” Bellamy grunts while Clarke sees his teeth drag along Raven’s earlobe.
Clarke glares at him. What a man. “Do you have a vagina?”
Bellamy glares at her. “What kind dirty talk are you into, Griffin?” he asks skeptically.
Clarke huffs out a breath. “If you don’t have a clit, you’re not allowed to judge anyone else in this room.”
Raven groans between them, lips parted. “You tell him, Princess.”
Clarke feels a surge of dampness soak her underwear at the mention of Bellamy’s stupid nickname for her and she bends to nip higher on Raven’s thigh so neither of them will see the heat on her cheeks.
She nudges Raven’s legs farther apart and then she’s parting her folds with two fingers, giving a long, slow lick up her slit.
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Raven’s head fall back on Bellamy’s shoulder.
“That’s it, Princess,” Bellamy murmurs when Clarke finds Raven’s clit and the girl gasps between them. She tastes heady and tart and perfect.
Raven’s got one hand behind her in Bellamy’s hair while he plucks at her nipples, the other twisted in Clarke’s waves as she sucks on her clit and Clarke wishes she had something to grind down on because the delicious rock of Raven’s hips against her mouth has her completely soaked through.
“Fuck,” Raven whimpers when Clarke slides her hand from Raven’s thigh to slipping two fingers into her slick heat.
She’s impossibly wet and tight around her fingers and Raven’s heels press into Clarke’s back when she gives a particularly well-placed crook of her wrist.
Bellamy’s murmuring something Clarke can’t hear in Raven’s ear and the moment she adds a third finger, Raven’s fluttering around her, back arching, mouth open as Clarke guides her through her climax.
When she comes to, Clarke’s licking her fingers clean with Bellamy’s eyes shamelessly glued to her tongue catching every lasting drop of Raven’s arousal. She’s never considered herself an exhibitionist (does this even count?) but there’s nothing as sensual as a man watching her with hooded eyes as she laps up every last remaining drop of another woman.
Every inch of Clarke’s skin seems hot under their gazes, heat low in her belly that spikes when Raven crawls around her and nods towards Bellamy’s chest.
“Time to return the favor?” she says in a gravely voice, wisps of dark hair sticking to her damp forehead.
Clarke fumbles over herself and Bellamy helps her turn around so her back is pressed against his sweat-slick chest.
How many times has she thought about either of them? Too many to count. She’s woken up trembling and hot from dreams about her fingers tangling in Raven’s thick, sleek hair while she gets her off with her tongue. She’s bitten back horribly (deliciously) dirty fantasies of Bellamy fucking her against her the wall while his thick arms hold her up so he can pound into her heat. Up until now the prospect of both of them touching her at once has been a fantasy too perfect to even imagine.
And it’s not a fantasy anymore.
Which is why she’s sweaty and breathless before they’re even touching her. Her bra is still unhooked but hanging off her arms and Bellamy makes quick work of sliding the straps down while Raven lowers herself onto the bed between her legs.
She grabs onto Bellamy’s strong forearms for purchase when Raven’s breath ghosts over her wet center while his lips trace a hot line up her throat.
Raven wastes no time, ducking between her legs until Clarke gasps when her tongue trips over the bead of nerves she’d been searching for. Waves of heavy pleasure roll through her limbs at the way Raven’s tongue’s suddenly rubbing small, insistent circles over her clit. It’s been too long. Way too long since she’s had anyone but herself between her legs.
“Your tits are so fucking gorgeous,” Bellamy grunts against her throat. She’s torn between grinding back against his hard cock and jerking her hips into Raven’s pressing tongue.
Of course Bellamy would be a dirty-talker.
He murmurs things she’s never thought would be hot, but when his breath washes warm over her throat and his calloused fingers are tweaking her nipple (you like her fingers in your cunt, don’t you?) and Raven is sucking her clit between her lips with two fingers inside her (hold her hair, Princess, hold onto her hair while she fucks you) she can’t hold on, giving into the tide of pleasure that washes over her, fingers tightening in Raven’s hair.
She groans when Raven pulls back, chin and lips wet around her smirk. “You’re too good at that for your own good, I hope you know that,” Clarke murmurs.
“Damn straight.”
Clarke reaches around to the bulge pressing against her lower back. Raven’s eyes immediately flash to the movement and a heavy throb rocks through her.
“What do you want?” Raven asks him, all humor gone from her voice.
Clarke turns in his arms. At this point he’s the only one with any bit of clothing on, just his dark briefs. Raven settles on one of his thighs while Clarke takes the other one, grinding down while her teeth drag along his throat.
“You two are un-fucking-believable,” he grunts while their hands roam over his torso and their lips drift over his jaw.
“But not un-fuckable,” Clarke teases with a pointed rock of her hips. She knows he can feel how wet she still is.
Bellamy lets out a strangled breath. “I’m going to need to take matters into my own hands if—”
Raven fists his length through his underwear and Clarke sees his adam’s apple bob.
All Clarke wants to do is kiss him, and she whimpers when Raven reaches beneath the waistband of his underwear and Clarke could possibly come again right then and there.
She can’t hold back anymore and wraps her arms around his shoulders, breasts pressing against his broad chest, kissing him hungrily.
Curses tumble from his mouth between kisses and she nibbles on his lower lip. She’s grinding on his tense thigh until Raven eases her knee to the side so she can duck her head down and take Bellamy’s cock in her mouth.
He groans into her mouth, his arm wrapping around her waist while his other hand delves into Raven’s thick hair as her head pumps up and down.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he murmurs and she buries her head in his shoulder while she reaches down to rub furiously over clit, hot throbbing want aching through her body.
It takes him a moment to realize what she’s doing and then he’s covering her hand with his own, picking up the pace with the hard press of his fingers.
Clarke gasps into his shoulder, trembling against his side. She’s so fucking close that it’s almost painful.
His wrist quirks down and then he’s sliding two fingers into her without any resistance.
She whimpers at the length of his fingers that are all slow, steady presses instead of Raven’s quick ride to the top. Both are good. Both are so fucking good.
He pants against her neck and she rubs her clit with his fingers buried inside her all the while Raven’s relentlessly pushing him towards the brink.
“I’m about to—” he groans and Clarke redoubles her efforts over her clit with the suddenly-fumbling slip of his fingers inside her.
The tendons in his neck stand out and she pushes herself over the edge, letting out a sharp cry just as she sees his fingers tighten in Raven’s hair and he groans while her mouth slows.
Raven’s flushed and breathless when she rises, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Fuck. Raven’s so fucking gorgeous on her own and Bellamy gives new meaning to sculpted, but the two of them together are positively sinful.
(Though Clarke suspects it’s a little late to be worrying about sin.)
Raven glances down to Bellamy’s hand as he withdraws from Clarke’s heat with an embarrassingly wet sound. But before he can wipe his hand off, she catches his forearm and licks his fingers off herself.
A little tremor shoots through Clarke’s stomach, but she’s sure that two times is all she can handle when it comes to them.
All the while, Raven keeps eye contact and releases his fingers with a slick pop. “So you get two and I only get one? I don’t think that’s fair.”
Clarke meets Bellamy’s eyes through a smirk. “You or me?”
Bellamy’s eyebrow quirks, a sly look playing across his lips. “Together.”