[ Murphy turns, casting a look over his shoulder. The corner of his mouth twitches in wry amusement. ]
That's not what I meant.
[ Not to be ungrateful or anything. He loves this, too. One small embrace and he's comforted more than half a dozen strangers managed over the course of the festival. But that's the trouble. Every little bit Bellamy gives him just makes him want more. ]
[ If Murphy learned nothing else from an evening full of debauchery, he at least found clarity. Every encounter threw the truth into sharp focus, that he wanted so badly to be with Bellamy instead, and Bellamy wasn't there.
The brush of those lips against his skin sends a ripple of warmth over him. More of that, that's what he wants. ]
I've wanted it forever. From the beginning. I followed you around like an idiot, hoping... I don't know.
[ Then everything happened, of course. Attempted murder really soured the relationship. And then there was Emori. ]
[He can only imagine how Murphy will react to it, but he can't stop the sudden rush of guilt that realization brings. He's always felt awful for that hanging incident, but that adds a whole new facet to it.
And again, of course, there's that question that keeps popping up in his head: What about Emori? He doesn't say it, though. Doesn't want to send Murphy into another tailspin. He swallows roughly instead, stays utterly still for a moment.]
[ The guilt is totally unexpected. Murphy freezes, unsure what to do with it or with the apology that follows it. In so many ways, that betrayal shaped the person he became, cursed him with the fear and paranoia that saturates his mindset to this very day. This very morning.
But it was also a lifetime ago. He can't fucking remember what it felt like to hate Bellamy. ]
Don't.
[ He rolls over so that he can look Bellamy in the eye, hooking an arm around him to return the embrace. There's nothing here but love. ]
You thought you were putting down a rabid dog. And I forgave you for it a hundred years ago.
[That isn't entirely true. Back then, every decision he made was a desperate attempt to save his own ass or protect Octavia. It was a way to try to get the situation back under control.
But maybe it doesn't matter. The empathy bond is a saving grace here—he might not let himself fully believe what Murphy's saying if it weren't for his emotions making the truth of it so clear. His guilt doesn't disappear, but it fades, overcome by gratitude and fondness. His lips twitch up into the barest smile.]
A hundred years is a long time to get over something.
[ Now here they are, a whole universe away from it all. He runs his hand down the curve of Bellamy's spine, like he means to smooth away the lingering traces of guilt. ]
Murphy's fingers running down his spine makes Bellamy's breathing hitch involuntarily, that now familiar heat surging up again. He doesn't bother answering, just shoves away the last of his uncertainties and closes the whisper of space between them, their lips meeting.]
[ In daydreams, Murphy had never assigned an emotion to this moment. Not back then. At best, he would impress Bellamy, earn a more permanent place at his side, and fall asleep every night with someone older and wiser and strong enough to fight off all the things that slip out of the shadows and eat boys in their sleep.
Love was not a part of the survivor's lot. It grew in quieter places, incidentally all the places Murphy couldn't thrive, and it took him a while to adapt.
So this? This is nothing like he imagined in those early days. His lips are on Bellamy's lips but all he can feel at first is Bellamy's heart. Every complicated and contradictory nuance of emotion plays across his skin before he fixates on the touch.
Murphy chases it, surging forward to deepen the kiss. ]
[The empathy bond is something Bellamy has come to rely on, a sort of steady acceptance. There's rarely a conversation that goes by with Clarke or Murphy where he doesn't use it at least once.
This though... This is different. It's a surge of affection and pleasure and an odd sort of relief, and Murphy's emotions are so in sync with his own that he's not entirely sure where Murphy's end and his begin. It makes all of it so much more intense, more consuming than any first kiss ever should have the right to be. All he can do is let out a soft, pleased noise, his hand slipping up to thread into Murphy's hair.]
[ Everything feels so much simpler now that it's happening. Murphy wishes he'd had the audacity to do it earlier, but he wouldn't have forgiven himself if Bellamy had rebuffed him. He needed to know it would all be okay.
And it is. He savors the kiss, memorizing the softness of Bellamy's lips as he drags his own against them. He'd thought it might feel wrong to kiss anyone other than Emori. It doesn't. This feels like coming home. Strange, how something can seem so familiar when it's the first time. Maybe it's because he spent so much time thinking about it. Or maybe it's the empathy bond entwining them in a feedback loop.
Murphy breaks for air without pulling away, alcohol heavy on his breath. He whispers against Bellamy's lips: ]
Shit...
[ Which he means appreciatively, in the most awed and incredulous way. This kind of physical connection combined with their bond is truly unlike anything else. ]
[It does feel oddly simple. Natural, even though his heart seems determined to beat its way out of his chest. His concerns aren't gone, but right now, they're so easy to ignore.
He can't help but laugh at Murphy's reaction, the sound warm and fond, and his response is teasing.]
[Ah, yes, so honest. When Bellamy kisses him back, this time it's slower and softer, savoring the closeness. It's a relief for that tension between them to finally be out in the open, finally be dealt with. He hadn't been aware of it consciously, but in hindsight, it's obvious it's been a factor between them for a while, shadowing all of their conversations.
He breaks the kiss, forehead still touching Murphy's, unwilling to pull away completely.]
[ Impossible, though it might take some convincing that he didn't dream it. The intensity of their connection and the blue glow illuminating the space between them casts the whole scene with a filter of unreality. If he wasn't experiencing it all with such clarity, Murphy might think he was dreaming already. ]
[ Murphy's dark lashes lower briefly in answer to that grazing touch as it sends a pleasant buzz through his nerves. Strange to realize he's so exposed, that Bellamy can feel exactly what that does to him. It was inevitable, this secret coming out. He can't not feel the way he does for Bellamy. ]
Won't be whining about anything if you shut me up.
[It's almost intoxicating, this front row seat to Murphy's reactions. It prompts another rush of affection from Bellamy, tinged with something like longing.]
[ Murphy exhales a short laugh edged with a subtle shiver. Bellamy's affection for him isn't exactly new. He's felt countless iterations of it every time they've touched. This yearning quality it's taken on, though, feels simultaneously like too much and not enough.
Maybe all that means is that Murphy's longing for him, too. ]
[ Murphy flashes a wicked grin, accepting that as a challenge. He reaches up to cradle Bellamy's nape, guiding him with a light nudge. ]
You can lie back and relax, if that's how you like it.
[ His mouth drags hungry kisses along Bellamy's jaw and down his throat. This is all he's wanted, all day long, and he's frustrated with himself for not chasing it sooner. No, Bellamy doesn't have to do anything. As long as he doesn't mind, Murphy will help himself. ]
[It wasn't actually a challenge—not in the way Murphy took it—and for a second Bellamy is ready to laugh him off, say that's not exactly what he meant.
He doesn't though, too momentarily distracted by Murphy's head dipping down, the anticipation that accompanies it. Then Murphy's lips are against his skin, and with a renewed rush of arousal he realizes that it's really fucking tempting. Bellamy can't remember the last time he didn't overthink, didn't try to analyze or anticipate whatever's coming next in any and every aspect of his life. The idea of setting that aside, even just temporarily, and allowing someone he trusts as much as Murphy to take charge is too intoxicating to pass up.
His answer is silent but still all too obvious in the way he relaxes. He's in, and if there's any doubt, the way his head tilts back and his hips shift up into Murphy's should remove all doubt.]
[ Murphy purrs, approving of Bellamy's choice. He settles over him, straddling his hips, making his own arousal known as it strains against his boxers in the tight space between them. Every kiss is a reassurance, leaving no opportunity for anxiety to come creeping back. He's got this. He doesn't want Bellamy to think about anything other than how good this feels.
Now that they're properly situated, Murphy catches his lips again. This kiss is languid, his tongue sneaking into Bellamy's mouth, first for a small taste and then for a savoring one. His fingers rake through Bellamy's curls, his other hand rising to caress his cheek. ]
[It isn't going to be very difficult for Murphy to manage—this is sort of the perfect storm. Bellamy would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he's been thinking about it all day, no thanks to the festival. Plus, the empathy bond really makes it impossible to think of much else. He's got a front row seat to everything Murphy is feeling, which only ratchets up his own emotions, a sort of intensifying feedback loop.
He lets out a low, approving sound when Murphy kisses him, his hands sliding up the muscles of his back, soaking in the warmth and contact, then lets his teeth catch Murphy's lower lip, soft and experimental, apparently in no real rush. He wants to savor this too.]
[ Murphy's heart gives a small thrill at the graze of Bellamy's teeth, his response almost overeager in its heatedness. There's a part of him that will always see Bellamy in the light of their first meeting, older and stronger and more experienced at everything, even though they're equals now. That admiration bleeds through the bond, taking with it his quietly embarrassing desire to please. It means so much to him that Bellamy wants him, beyond the obvious gratification.
He's in no hurry, either. They're a lot less likely to be interrupted here than any other time in their history. There's space to enjoy this exploratory drag of lips and teeth and tongue. He wants Bellamy to enjoy every damn thing about him. ]
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That's not what I meant.
[ Not to be ungrateful or anything. He loves this, too. One small embrace and he's comforted more than half a dozen strangers managed over the course of the festival. But that's the trouble. Every little bit Bellamy gives him just makes him want more. ]
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I didn't know you felt this way.
[Until just today, anyway, which is part of it. But, more vitally—]
I don't want you to do anything and regret it.
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[ If Murphy learned nothing else from an evening full of debauchery, he at least found clarity. Every encounter threw the truth into sharp focus, that he wanted so badly to be with Bellamy instead, and Bellamy wasn't there.
The brush of those lips against his skin sends a ripple of warmth over him. More of that, that's what he wants. ]
I've wanted it forever. From the beginning. I followed you around like an idiot, hoping... I don't know.
[ Then everything happened, of course. Attempted murder really soured the relationship. And then there was Emori. ]
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And again, of course, there's that question that keeps popping up in his head: What about Emori? He doesn't say it, though. Doesn't want to send Murphy into another tailspin. He swallows roughly instead, stays utterly still for a moment.]
I'm the idiot. I'm sorry.
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But it was also a lifetime ago. He can't fucking remember what it felt like to hate Bellamy. ]
Don't.
[ He rolls over so that he can look Bellamy in the eye, hooking an arm around him to return the embrace. There's nothing here but love. ]
You thought you were putting down a rabid dog. And I forgave you for it a hundred years ago.
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But maybe it doesn't matter. The empathy bond is a saving grace here—he might not let himself fully believe what Murphy's saying if it weren't for his emotions making the truth of it so clear. His guilt doesn't disappear, but it fades, overcome by gratitude and fondness. His lips twitch up into the barest smile.]
A hundred years is a long time to get over something.
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Yeah, no kidding.
[ Now here they are, a whole universe away from it all. He runs his hand down the curve of Bellamy's spine, like he means to smooth away the lingering traces of guilt. ]
But not enough to get over everything.
[ Evidently. ]
Do I get to kiss you yet?
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Murphy's fingers running down his spine makes Bellamy's breathing hitch involuntarily, that now familiar heat surging up again. He doesn't bother answering, just shoves away the last of his uncertainties and closes the whisper of space between them, their lips meeting.]
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Love was not a part of the survivor's lot. It grew in quieter places, incidentally all the places Murphy couldn't thrive, and it took him a while to adapt.
So this? This is nothing like he imagined in those early days. His lips are on Bellamy's lips but all he can feel at first is Bellamy's heart. Every complicated and contradictory nuance of emotion plays across his skin before he fixates on the touch.
Murphy chases it, surging forward to deepen the kiss. ]
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This though... This is different. It's a surge of affection and pleasure and an odd sort of relief, and Murphy's emotions are so in sync with his own that he's not entirely sure where Murphy's end and his begin. It makes all of it so much more intense, more consuming than any first kiss ever should have the right to be. All he can do is let out a soft, pleased noise, his hand slipping up to thread into Murphy's hair.]
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And it is. He savors the kiss, memorizing the softness of Bellamy's lips as he drags his own against them. He'd thought it might feel wrong to kiss anyone other than Emori. It doesn't. This feels like coming home. Strange, how something can seem so familiar when it's the first time. Maybe it's because he spent so much time thinking about it. Or maybe it's the empathy bond entwining them in a feedback loop.
Murphy breaks for air without pulling away, alcohol heavy on his breath. He whispers against Bellamy's lips: ]
Shit...
[ Which he means appreciatively, in the most awed and incredulous way. This kind of physical connection combined with their bond is truly unlike anything else. ]
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He can't help but laugh at Murphy's reaction, the sound warm and fond, and his response is teasing.]
That bad?
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[ Nevertheless, he catches Bellamy's lower lip to steal another kiss. It must not be too bad. ]
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He breaks the kiss, forehead still touching Murphy's, unwilling to pull away completely.]
How much did you drink again?
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[ Impossible, though it might take some convincing that he didn't dream it. The intensity of their connection and the blue glow illuminating the space between them casts the whole scene with a filter of unreality. If he wasn't experiencing it all with such clarity, Murphy might think he was dreaming already. ]
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[Bellamy's fingers slip along Murphy's jaw, thumb brushing against his lower lip.]
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Won't be whining about anything if you shut me up.
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I can never get you to shut up.
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Maybe all that means is that Murphy's longing for him, too. ]
I bet you can think of a couple ways.
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You're making me do all the heavy lifting, huh?
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You can lie back and relax, if that's how you like it.
[ His mouth drags hungry kisses along Bellamy's jaw and down his throat. This is all he's wanted, all day long, and he's frustrated with himself for not chasing it sooner. No, Bellamy doesn't have to do anything. As long as he doesn't mind, Murphy will help himself. ]
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He doesn't though, too momentarily distracted by Murphy's head dipping down, the anticipation that accompanies it. Then Murphy's lips are against his skin, and with a renewed rush of arousal he realizes that it's really fucking tempting. Bellamy can't remember the last time he didn't overthink, didn't try to analyze or anticipate whatever's coming next in any and every aspect of his life. The idea of setting that aside, even just temporarily, and allowing someone he trusts as much as Murphy to take charge is too intoxicating to pass up.
His answer is silent but still all too obvious in the way he relaxes. He's in, and if there's any doubt, the way his head tilts back and his hips shift up into Murphy's should remove all doubt.]
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Now that they're properly situated, Murphy catches his lips again. This kiss is languid, his tongue sneaking into Bellamy's mouth, first for a small taste and then for a savoring one. His fingers rake through Bellamy's curls, his other hand rising to caress his cheek. ]
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He lets out a low, approving sound when Murphy kisses him, his hands sliding up the muscles of his back, soaking in the warmth and contact, then lets his teeth catch Murphy's lower lip, soft and experimental, apparently in no real rush. He wants to savor this too.]
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He's in no hurry, either. They're a lot less likely to be interrupted here than any other time in their history. There's space to enjoy this exploratory drag of lips and teeth and tongue. He wants Bellamy to enjoy every damn thing about him. ]
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