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The music is thumping in his ears, slightly muffled by the fact that he is more than a little drunk. This is the fourth, maybe fifth, bar Octavia has dragged their group of friends to for this year’s birthday celebration. His birthday to be exact, and this is a low key celebration compared to last year’s. Last year he’d turned 25, and Octavia had planned a weekend in Vegas, that ended with the group skydiving over the Nevada desert. That trip was for more than just his birthday though. Lot’s of things happened that weekend including the start of Raven and Murphy’s relationship, the end of Clarke and Finn’s, and the first time Monty kissed Miller. He likes to think that Octavia had a role in all of those things, though she’d never admit it.
“Reflecting on you life, old man?” Raven saunters up next to him, motioning to the bartender for another beer.
“Just remembering this time last year, when you cut me with a shoe.”
He was the one who walked in on Raven, and Murphy in bed. Instead of slipping back through the door quietly, he muttered “Oh shit. Sorry”, causing her to jump up and throw her very sharp highheeled shoe at his head. The heel clipped him in the forehead and the resulting scar had Clarke and Octavia fussing over him for at least an hour. He refused to tell them the truth, making up a story about walking in on Raven getting dressed. It was their news to tell. She apologized, and thanked him later, considering she and Murphy waited for almost four months before letting the secret slip, and even then it was an accident.
Raven smirks, taking her beer as she sits on the stool next to him. “Seriously, are you enjoying your birthday bar hop?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. I can’t complain. Drinking, and everyone I love in one place celebrating me? What’s not to love?” He finishes his drink, and sets it on the bar, just as Octavia comes up to him, Lincoln in tow.
“Alright brother. One more place, and I promise you’ll enjoy it.” She winks, pulling Lincoln with her towards the door. He sighs, motioning for Raven to go first as they walk out of the club. It’s a long walk to the next location, but he has an idea where they are going. He recognizes the area from a bachelor party he went to a few years ago.
“Are we going to Stilettos?” He turns to the person next to him, who he assumed was Raven, but ends up being Murphy. He shrugs.
“I have no idea. Your sister didn’t tell any of us the plan. Stilettos is right around the corner though.” Sure enough, the neon pink sign for the strip club comes into view as they round the corner, making Bellamy smirk.
“I hope this isn’t some sort of practical joke.” Murphy says, “You know where it’s ladies night instead of the normal, scantily clad girls night.”
“Why you don’t see enough of your girl scantily clad?” Bellamy slurs, earning a frown from Murphy, and a slap on the back of the head.
“Ow.” He complains, turning to find his attacker. It’s Clarke, a stern look on her face, though she is clearly trying not to laugh. He idly wonders if she is as drunk as he is. Raven is next to her, giggling about something.
“It’s okay, Clarke. Everyone likes to think of my hot, naked body.”
Murphy blushes, but Bellamy rolls his eyes. If he’s being honest, he likes to think about Clarke’s naked body. On top of his, flushed from exertion. He likes to picture what her face would look like when he thrusts into her, the sounds she’d make as they move together. He clears his throat, and speeds up to get to the front of the group, and away from Clarke.
“O, what are you up to?” He asks, falling into stride with her.
“Nothing, big brother. I swear, this is just harmless fun. Here I brought some singles.” She shuffles through her purse, stumbling just slightly. He steadies her, and takes the wad of singles she is holding out to him.
“Live a little. You deserve it.” She kisses his cheek, and heads back to Lincoln.
Inside, the club is crowded. Mostly men, but some women, sit in chairs watching the girls dancing on various stages. The girl pouring drinks behind the bar is in just as little clothing as the girls dancing on stage, and he feels slightly guilty for even stepping foot into this place, let alone enjoying what he is seeing. The hostess leads them to an area that is roped off, with enough room for their friends, and a stage close by. Octavia pushes him into one of the seats closest to the stage, reminding him to “have fun!” Miller sits in the chair next to him.
“Finally. A place to sit.” He relaxes, calling over a waitress, and ordering a drink for himself, and then one for Bellamy. The lights on the stage closest to them turn on, and music starts. A blonde woman in the sluttiest cop outfit he has ever seen comes on the stage. The waitress brings his drink over, just as another woman comes over to him.
“Are you Bellamy? The birthday boy?”
His eyes slowly move over her body. She’s short, even for someone wearing at least six inch heels. She’s extremely skinny, but not in an unattractive way. She’s tanned, and her abs are toned. Her brown hair hangs down to her shoulders. Her boobs are huge, barely covered by a red bra with black details.
He clears his throat. “Yeah that’s me”
She crawls into his lap. “I’m Tiffany, and I’m here to make sure you have a very happy birthday.” She starts a lapdance, grinding down on him, moving her hips to the beat of the music. Bellamy follows her movements with his eyes, not as into it as he should be.
He looks over at Miller, who is suddenly very interesting in the drink in his hand. “This is great, but I wish it was Clarke” Miller snorts into his drink, looking just over Bellamy’s shoulder where Clarke is blushing. She sets her drink down, quickly exiting the club. Miller is much too drunk to do damage control. He goes back to his drink, hoping the two of them will work it out eventually.
They next day Bellamy remembers very little of the night before. He knows the group as a whole went to five or six different clubs, and that he had way too much to drink. He knows that they ended the night at Stilettoes, staying out at the club until almost close. He also knows that Clarke was MIA for the end of the night. He’d sent her a few texts to make sure she was okay, but she’d only answered with a short one word reply to the last of them.
He shuffles up the stairs to his apartment, eager to get into more comfortable clothes, and veg out in front of the tv. The grading in his bag can wait until tomorrow when his head isn’t throwing it’s own after party. He throws his keys in the bowl next to the door, his bag lands on the floor next to it’s usual spot, but he leaves it, heading into the living room.
He stops dead in his tracks when he sees her. Clarke is sitting on the couch, which isn’t unusual, except for the fact that she’s almost naked. A black silk robe hangs off of one shoulder, coyly letting one side of an almost sheer black bra show. A teeny tiny pair of silk boyshorts sit low on her hips. Her hair is loose, falling around her shoulders. She twirls a piece between her fingers, one leg is perched on the coffee table, opening her legs just enough for his mind to flood with dirty thoughts.
“Cla-” He finds that his mouth is very dry, so he clears his throat, and tries again. “Clarke. What are you doing?”
She gets up, letting the robe fall even further landing in the crook of her elbows. She puts his hand on his chest before going on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Just giving you your birthday wish” She walks behind him, pushing him to the couch where he sits down heavily.
Clarke lets the robe fall to the floor as she walks towards him. She climbs into his lap one leg on each side of his. She leans close, speaking in a low, sultry voice. “Is this what you want for your birthday?” She starts moving her hips back and forth, grinding down against him. She takes his hand and puts them on her thighs, then roams her own hands over her body, squeezing her boobs as she grinds down on top of him. He follows her hand with his eyes, thinking about how much he would like to follow the exact path with his tongue.
Her eyes find his as she comes closer, kissing him passionately. His hands move to her ass, squeezing just slightly. She moans into his mouth, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. She reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off, and throwing it across the room. She put both hand on her chest as she pulls back to grind against him again. His hands find the clasp of her bra, undoing it with ease. The skimpy fabric falls to the floor, leaving Clarke naked on top of Bellamy. He flips them over, hooking a thumb underneath her underwear, and slowly pulling it off her body. He makes quick work of his own belt and pants, as he looks her up and down. A slight flush has crept over her body, and damn is it a beautiful body. He starts a trail of kisses up her leg, dropping one in the crook of her knee, a few on her thighs loving the sharp intake of breath as he nips a spot. The trail continues as he makes marks on her hips, then a few on her abdomen before she can’t take it anymore. She reaches down, pulling his face to hers, kissing him.
He’s surprised when she takes charge, flipping them over. She grinds back and forth on his cock, throwing her head back at the sensation. She reaches over him, grabbing a condom off of the end table. She pumps him twice before rolling the condom on, making him moan. She makes eye contact with him as she positions him at her entrance, and slides down.
They chase each other to the edge, Clarke finishes first, but Bellamy isn’t far behind. Afterward they lay on the couch, limbs tangled together. Clarke huffs out a laugh.
“Not the reaction I was hoping for…” Bellamy says, looking down at her.
“You should have seen your face when you walked in here. I wish I had a picture” She shoots up and kisses his cheek.
He can’t help but think this is the best birthday he’s ever had.