Chapter 1: Chapter 1

A/N: Thank you, BittyAb18 for this fun prompt! I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope you guys enjoy it, too!

Clarke is an exhausted, overworked resident. Residency sucks. Especially when she's worked six nights in a row. It's the same routine every morning she comes home after a night shift… She kicks off her disease-covered shoes at the front door and immediately strips out of her hospital-issued scrubs and tosses them into the pile of dirty ones that sits by the door. She should find a better place to put these, but it's easier to find them if they don't make it to her room. Not to mention, her room is her sanctuary. Work does not get to invade her bedroom. She stands there in her tank top and underwear and stares at the heap of greenish colored garments, then realizes she's been standing there for a while. Shit, she's forgotten why she's even staring. Her brain really needs to rest.

She desperately wants to flop down on the couch and pass out, but she's sure she's covered in MRSA, and really doesn't want disgusting bus- and hospital-contracted microbes all over her furniture. Must shower… With a tired sigh, she shuffles to the bathroom. She smirks when she sees that she's still got her phone in her hand, and feels a familiar heat building up between her legs. She turns the hot water on and lets it run, and it takes fucking forever to get hot because this apartment is shit. Because she's a resident and the salary is shit (Yet another reason residency sucks)... Wait, what's she doing? Oh right, water. Shower. Phone. Ooooh, phone… As she waits for the water to heat up, she strips off the rest of her clothes, then searches for the zip-lock baggies she keeps in the bathroom so she can take her phone with her into the shower and watch her favorite naughty video while she gets herself off under the running water. Just as she finds one under the sink, she hears the telltale chime of her phone telling her that the battery is nearly dead. Goddammit.

It's difficult as hell, but she resists pleasuring herself while she's showering. She wants to wait until she can play a video, because everything feels so much more intense when she has sound and visual aids. She rushes to lather her hair with shampoo, then rinse it out before slathering it with conditioner. She lets that soak in while she shaves her legs. She rises to rinse the conditioner out of her hair, and dammit the water is getting cold. By the time the conditioner is fully washed out, the water feels like ice against her goosebump-covered skin. She hurriedly dries herself off and goes into her room. She's thankful she lives alone, because it would probably be awkward to walk around naked if she had a roommate.

Clarke opens up her laptop and presses play on her favorite video. The title is something absurd, like The Penetrator or something, but it's the star, Rammer Bobby, (or "Bobby," as she calls him) that she's drawn to. And oh god she's into him. Like, she seeks out his films. She went to an adult film convention a few years back, in large part because he was there. No it's not stalking – it's not like he was the only porn star there. She was legitimately curious about the adult film industry. She knows that male porn stars aren't as famous as the females, so she wasn't surprised that stars like Jenna Haze and Gianna Michaels couldn't even be seen inside the throngs of fans surrounding their booths.

Still, Bobby's booth was popular. There were tons of women lined up for his autograph. Most of them seemed normal, waiting for him to sign things like his posters or videos. a few of them were really brazen and had him sign some vulgar body part. Which of course he'd do, with a flirty smile. Clarke considered getting in line herself, but she didn't bring anything for autographs. She didn't realize that was a thing.

She's pretty sure she had a minor heart attack when he looked her way at her and winked as he gave her a vulgar once-over, startling her so much she dropped her purse. She cringes at the memory. She just stood there, frozen in a pool of carnal greed while he raked his gaze over her body. She couldn't seem to get her feet to move and by the time she snapped out of her lust-filled haze, he was being called away for something. Chance gone. Oh well. But after that, she had… needs. She's not ashamed to admit that she had a very vivid self-love session when she got back to her hotel room.

In this particular video, Bobby talks seductively to the camera while he gets himself off. That's one her favorite things about him – he's a very vocal star, which, a lot of the men are. But something about him is just… wonderful. Like the way his deep voice drips like honey onto her skin. While Bobby slowly strokes himself, he plays with his nipples, which is an act that Clarke never thought she'd find appealing. But when he does it, it makes her crazy with want. Clarke licks her fingers, then gently circles her clit with them, reveling in the zings of pleasure that shoot through her with this first contact. She teases then dips her middle finger into her slit to gather the wetness pooled there, then slowly circles her clit with it.

Video-Bobby says he can't wait to sink his cock into her pussy, talks about how good it'll feel to be inside of her. Clarke frantically opens the drawer to her bedside table and feels around blindly for her Rammer Bobby dildo. Yeah, that's right, a dildo shaped like his cock. No, it's not creepy. It's not like she commissioned it. He's a porn star, so it's no surprise that his cock sells dildos. So she bought one. And she fucking loves it.

She sighs with relief when she finds it, and immediately brings it to her pussy, teasing her entrance with it and gathering the wetness there. She releases a hoarse moan as she slowly pushes it inside of her, ignoring the chill of the silicone, instead focusing on Bobby's rousing gaze as he eye-fucks the camera while stroking himself. She shudders as she pulls the cock out, then pushes it back in, over and over again.

As Bobby's strokes get faster, she fucks herself harder. She explores the curves of her body with her free hand, until she reaches the apex of her thighs, where she rubs small, tight circles over her clit. She feels that sweet, sweet pressure coiling low in her abdomen as his graveled voice utters all kinds of profane words… and oh god, there it is… She's found just the right angle that has her bucking her hips against her hand while she gets closer and closer to her release. She looks down at her body to see her breasts rocking up and down with her movements and she finds she's wildly turned on by the image.

She holds off her orgasm until Bobby comes. The sound of his coarse groan as he comes sends her right over the edge. The pent-up bliss surges through her body as she arches her back off the bed. She tries her hardest to be quiet, because the walls here are paper-thin. Maybe that's why she shakes after these orgasms – the strength she uses to keep herself from screaming out loud makes her muscles quiver with fatigue…

She flops back against her pillow to catch her breath and slides her toy out. She looks at it in her hand and smirks, "Thanks, Bobby," She reminds herself she needs to clean it before she puts it away. She trudges to the bathroom in a daze and cleans Bobby, because hygiene. When she brushes her teeth, she feels the tingle of the minty toothpaste against her gums. She wonders what oral sex would feel like if the giver just brushed their teeth. Hmm. Food for thought… She shuffles back to her room, sated and serene, curls up in her bed, and drifts off to sleep.

When Clarke wakes up, it's dark outside and she's hungry. She wraps herself up in her robe and heads to the kitchen to find something to eat. She runs into a problem when she gets to her fridge and finds nothing but condiments. No deli meats, cheeses, fruits, vegetables, nothing. She finds nothing appetizing in the cabinets, either. She chastises herself, Clarke, you're a grown adult. You need to keep actual food in your home. She can hold out until she gets to the hospital cafeteria. Then she remembers that this is her night off. The first one in several days. She was really looking forward to spending the whole time lounging in her PJ's and binge-watching TV shows on Netflix, like she does with most of her nights off (when Raven doesn't drag her out to meet people. She's not ashamed to admit that she has no social life right now.). But, food… Her stomach makes an inhuman growling noise, so she resigns herself to the fact that she'll need to leave the apartment.

She goes to her closet and picks out clothes that aren't scrubs, which is odd. She puts jeans on for the first time in three weeks, and the sensation of the denim hugging her curves is almost foreign. She wears a real bra for the first time in weeks, and is pleased by how amazing her boobs look tonight. She'd almost forgotten about how awesome they look in real bras, since they've spent so much time confined in sports bras, contained and out of the way while she's at work. In the interest of showcasing her assets, she pulls a deep V-neck top over her head. She slips her feet into some flats, glides some lip gloss onto her lips and brushes some mascara over her eyelashes. When she looks in the mirror, she almost doesn't recognize herself and makes a mental note to wear non-scrub clothes more often.

Clarke walks to the grocery store a few blocks away, only mildly concerned about the vagrants who eyeball her as she walks on the sidewalk. She almost never goes grocery shopping, which is stupid, because she really shouldn't be spending money on takeout. She makes her way through the non-perishables and picks up crackers and other non-nutritive shit she probably shouldn't be eating. She picks up a loaf of bread, because she can always make toast or something. She finally makes it to the produce section. She's filling a bag with apples when she hears his voice. His voice. The one that she listened to as she brought herself to a quaking orgasm just hours ago. And holy shit, she's already getting wet.

He's on the phone. "No, I'm not at home, I'm at the store… What makes you think I have no friends? ...No, not all of my friends are work friends." Clarke hears him laugh fondly, "Fine, if it'll get you to stop bugging me, I'll call Miller or something… Bye, O."

He stares at the honeydew melons quizzically, holds two up next to each other and squeezes them suggestively. Okay, maybe it wasn't suggestive, but it's not Clarke's fault that her mind's default setting has become "SEX" in his presence. Clarke almost wants to roll her eyes at the smirk that plays across his face. Yeah, the squeezing was definitely suggestive. He pokes at them and huffs before he turns to face her. He grins like a Cheshire cat when he gives Clarke a once-over, halting briefly at her (admittedly fantastic) chest as he squeezes the melons again.

"Are these supposed to be so soft?"

Clarke looks around in confusion, "Are you asking me?"

He chuckles, "Yeah. Do these feel too soft?" He squeezes at the melons again with a grin she almost wants to call lewd. "Who else would I be talking to?"

Clarke shakes her head, embarrassed, "Sorry, I was just surprised. Normally strangers don't talk to other strangers. Not in this part of town, anyway."

He shrugs, "You could tell me your name, then you won't be a stranger."

Clarke raises an eyebrow, "That's terrible logic."

His lips quirk into a smile, "It's a pickup line. Logic isn't a big part of the equation."

Clarke's eyes widen, "Wait, you're hitting on me?"

He chuckles, "Is that a problem?"

Clarke opens and closes her mouth a few times, unsure of how to reply, before she finally just shakes her head, "Uh, no. I guess not." She huffs a nervous laugh, "My name is Clarke." He holds his hand out and they share a firm, albeit awkward, handshake.

"It's nice to meet you, Clarke. Now that we're not strangers, can you tell me if these melons feel right to you?"

Clarke scoffs playfully, "Hey, I told you my name, and you didn't tell me yours. Rude."

He laughs, "Oh, sorry. I'm Bellamy."

Clarke narrows her eyes and tilts her head, "Is that right?" She knows this, of course. She's read Rammer Bobby's Wikipedia page. Born Bellamy Blake in 1984. Still, she's dying to know where the pseudonym Rammer Bobby came from.

He smirks, "I'm pretty sure, yeah." He looks pointedly at the melons, "So?"

Clarke hesitantly reaches out the squeeze the fruity mounds, and yeah, they're pretty grossly soft. "Yeah, I think they're a little too soft to be natural."

Bellamy shrugs, "Huh... And here I thought natural melons were soft."

Clarke pinches the bridge of her nose, "Oh god, I didn't mean to say 'natural,' I meant edible. They're too soft to be edible…" She clears her throat, "But yeah, natural 'melons' are usually, um, softer." He smirks at her and she feels herself turning a fierce shade of red. She laughs and hope she doesn't sound too awkward, "Are we really talking about breasts in the produce aisle?"

He shoos her a playful grin, "Breasts? I was talking about fruit. Wow, Clarke. Get your mind out of the gutter." As if her mind can be anywhere but the gutter with her favorite porn star standing in front of her.

She laughs, "Right. Because the way you're fondling those looks completely innocent."

He chuckles, "Yeah, no… It's not innocent at all." He smiles at her again, and she thinks her heart just skipped a few beats. "It's a good thing you were here. These would have been a questionable purchase."

"You really would've bought those?"

He shrugs, "I guess we'll never know." After some awkward silence, Bobby Bellamy asks, "Do you live around here?"

Clarke huffs, amused, "Do you have any experience talking to strangers?"

He chuckles, "No, not really. At least not in grocery stores at night. I usually defer to my sister with this kind of thing."

Clarke smiles, "Well, if she were here, she'd tell you not to ask single women where they lived."

"So you're single?"

"That's what you got out of that sentence? Wow, you really are tragic."

He smirks, "But for some reason, you're still talking to me."

Clarke thinks, holy shit this guy is dangerously easy to talk to. She gives him a lop-sided grin, "Yeah, for some reason."

He shuffles his feet awkwardly, and shit, awkward is an adorable look on him. As if he needed to be any more appealing. He almost sounds shy, "So, um… There's a diner around the corner from here. I was thinking about getting some dinner there, because fuck cooking."

Clarke nods with a smile that she hopes doesn't look sad, "Oh. Okay. Well, have a good dinner. It was nice meeting you." She turns around and starts to walk away, because she's awkward and wants to save herself the embarrassment of whatever she was going to do. Because that man is the walking embodiment of sex, so it's only a matter of time before she jumped him or something.

She hears him sigh as he catches up to her, "Shit, Sorry. I'm really not good at this. I was trying to ask if you wanted to join me. My treat."

Clarke wants to pinch herself because she's pretty sure she's being asked to dinner by a porn star. Her favorite porn star.

"Uhm… okay?" She chuckles, "I mean, yeah. I'd love to."

She checks out with her groceries, which thankfully fit into the single reusable bag she brought along with her. During the short walk to the diner, she learns Bellamy is surprisingly polite. It makes her laugh a bit inside, because Rammer Bobby is typically this alpha-male asshole in her favorite films, manhandling his partners (which Clarke may or may not find incredibly hot). However, Polite-Bellamy is a nice surprise. He carries her grocery bag for her, he lets her hold onto his arm when she has to leap over a questionable-looking puddle in the sidewalk, and (much to her disappointment) he doesn't once try to feel her up during their walk. When they get to the diner, he even holds the door open for her like a gentleman. They pick a booth and sit across from each other.

While they look over the menu, Bellamy breaks the silence, "So, Clarke. Tell me something about yourself."

She thinks for a second, "I like my eggs scrambled..."

He smirks, "Noted."

"Oh god, I wasn't trying to suggest anything. I'm not…" She sighs and stares fixedly at the ceiling as she mumbles under breath, "Fuck me…"

He chuckles, "Is that also supposed to be not suggestive? Because when you say fuck me…." he trails off with a knowing grin.

She brings her hands to cover her eyes, "My mouth is just betraying me left and right."

"I think it's cute."

Clarke looks up at him, "Okay. I should just come clean. Because I'm pretty sure you think that I'm just this dumb blonde with a sex-addled brain…" He gives her an amused grin as she continues, "I'll clear you up on the dumb part right away and inform you that I'm a doctor. But the sex-addled brain part…" She pauses and he waits patiently for her to keep going. "Jesus, how do I put this without making it even worse?" If she tells him she recognizes him, she's essentially admitting to watching porn… Which, fine. She's a grown adult and she's not ashamed of sex. Still, she squeezes her eyes shut and brings her hands up to cover her burning cheeks…

"I, um… I know who you are."

She hears the groaning shift of vinyl rubbing against vinyl and cautiously looks up to see if he's left or something. She's met with the image of Bellamy leaning back against the booth, arms stretched out over the back of the seat, wearing a shit-eating grin if she ever saw one.

"Well, I guess that saves us the awkward 'what do you do for a living' conversation."

Clarke gives him a lopsided smile, "That's true."

He brings his arms down, leans his forearms against the table, and clasps his hands together. "Is it a problem for you?"

"Is what a problem?"

He chuckles, "My job."

Clarke huffs a laugh, "You mean the fact that you have hot sex on camera for a living?"

"Yeah, that."

Clarke shrugs, "Well, if I understand correctly, you guys have rigorous and regular STI testing regimens. And it's not like you're doing porn in seedy hotels with prostitutes. You guys are pretty safe about it, right?"

Bellamy nods, "Yeah. Safety is a big deal."

Clarke smiles, "Then I don't see a problem."

He returns her smile, "Good. Because I like you."

"You don't even know me."

"Well, I know your name. And you claim you're a doctor, and-"

She brings her hand to her chest in feigned offense, "Are you questioning my claim that I'm a doctor?"

He chuckles, "I don't know, I mean, you obviously have proof of my profession." He lowers his voice and leans across the table, "And I fully intend to find out just how much proof."

Her raspy voice is barely above a whisper, "Are you asking me how much of your porn I've seen?" When he nods, she huffs, "It's a little early for that question."

He shrugs and leans back again with a smirk, "I think I'll get the answer out of you."

She gives him a cheeky smile, "I don't doubt it. But I can still make you work a little for it." The waitress interrupts them for their drink order, and Clarke abruptly sits up straight again. She feels a little like she's been caught by the principal or something, but she's grateful for the intrusion. She's legitimately concerned that the longer she's left unattended with Bobby Bellamy, the less likely she'll be able to control herself. She clears her throat and orders a soda. The waitress leaves and Clarke finds herself in something of a staring contest with Bellamy.

The silence is comfortable, but she breaks it anyway. "So, does your job, like, get you laid on the regular?"

Bellamy snorts, "Well, considering that the nature of my job is fucking…"

She cuts him off with a laugh, "That's not what I meant. I meant outside of work. Do you get recognized a lot? Like when you go out in public?"

He shakes his head, "No, not really. When people watch porn, it's usually the girls they're watching."

She nods, "That's a fair point."

"Also, not many women admit to watching porn."

She feels a distinct heat spreading across her cheeks to the tips of her ears, "Well… I'm not one to play dumb. Anyway, it would've slipped out one way or another."

Bellamy shrugs, "I appreciate honesty. It's not something I'm embarrassed about, but I figure it's a deal-breaker for a lot of women."

She's feeling a mixture of brave and brazen, "Let me be real with you for a second."

He leans forward. "I'm listening."

"I want to fuck you."

He just nods, entertained, "You certainly don't mince words."

Clarke shrugs, "I don't see the point in delaying the inevitable, because I think you want to fuck me, too."

He smirks, "That's accurate."

"So why are we wasting time with dinner?"

His gaze is downright salacious, "Because, we're gonna need the energy."

Clarke actually shudders at his words. She clears her throat and wills her voice not to shake, "Noted."

The waitress comes back with their drinks, again snapping Clarke out of her daze. They order something to eat, not too heavy, but substantial enough to satiate her starving stomach. She would be appalled by how obviously they're eye-fucking each other in pubic, but the activity is the only thing that's keeping her from leaping across the table onto his lap.

It takes all of her self-restraint to make conversation, but she makes the effort anyway. "So where do you meet women?"

"On set, usually. I'll be honest, I haven't been on a date with a woman outside of the industry in years."

Clarke frowns, "Why's that?"

"So we're gonna have this conversation already…"

Clarke is suddenly concerned, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious."

He shakes his head, "That's alright. Maybe table that discussion for later?"

Clarke nods with a gentle smile, "Okay. Later, then." She's surprised that he's considering the concept of later. She's not going to delude herself into thinking this is anything more than it is: A (hopefully) fantastic fuck. But now that he's mentioned it, she doesn't think she'd be opposed to a repeat, assuming all goes well tonight.

Their food comes quickly, and they continue to chat while they eat. She has to make a concerted effort not to ravenously gorge herself on her dinner, because she's both starving and in a hurry.

Genuinely curious, she asks, "So, how real is the sex you have on camera?"

"Depends on what you're asking. It's real, but it's not exactly realistic sex."

"Are the orgasms real?"

"It depends on the scene. But most of the time, yeah. I mean, I know there are times a girl has had to fake it for the camera, like when we're on our fifth position and she's already come a few times. The audience likes the final orgasm to be dramatic, but sometimes that's not the reality…" Clarke is trying to control her lust, but this is honest-to-god becoming unbearable. He continues, "On the flip side, there have been times when a girl's come so many times, it's hard for her to walk after. I don't really like doing those scenes."

"What kind of scenes?"

"Forced orgasms. I mean, it's all consensual. But it's painful as hell for her."

Clarke nods, "Oh. Wow. I hadn't thought about that." Well. That cools her loins, but only barely. "So do you get any real pleasure out of the scenes?"

He laughs, "Hell, yes." He looks up at her, "We're talking about fucking, here." After giving her a grin, he continues, "I have more choice in terms of scenes nowadays. I don't do hardcore scenes as often anymore."

"How come?"

He shrugs, "I don't get much enjoyment out of them. Usually, the director wants so many angles that I'll be literally pounding the fuck out of a woman for two and a half hours straight so they can capture all the perspectives in half a dozen positions, and by the end of it my dick is practically numb. But, I still have to put on a show and come like it's the best orgasm of my life." He huffs a laugh, "A lot of those positions aren't exactly pleasurable. They just look really hot on camera. Not to mention, it's like a straight two and a half hours of fucking cardio."

Clarke laughs, "Literally. It's fucking cardio."

Bellamy smirks, "Pun not intended, but I'll take credit anyway."

"Wait, you can keep it up for an two and a half hours?"

His darkened gaze leaves her nearly vibrating with need. "Clarke, I can keep going all fucking night…"

In a desperate attempt to restrain her libido, she tries to change the subject, "What kinds of scenes do you do instead?" Okay, maybe that wasn't exactly a libido-quashing question…

"I do a lot of straight sex scenes. Not quite softcore, but something in between. More focused on the one-on-one sex, making a connection with your partner, even if it is just acting for the camera. I guess it's more female-friendly."

She grins, "I'll say."

He snaps his gaze to hers with a lascivious smile, "Do you have a favorite?"

She tries (and fails) to suppress the violent blush creeping all over her body as she chews and swallows the last bite of her dinner. "I might."

His deep voice is graveled, "Tell me what you like, Clarke." She is uncomfortably aware that her underwear is positively soaked at this point.

Her nerve endings ignite under his smoldering gaze. She looks him straight in the eye, "Pay the fucking check and you'll find out."

When they exit the diner, he holds the door open for her as she goes through. She barely makes it a few steps on the sidewalk before he grasps her hand in his and tugs her back into him, slanting his mouth over hers in a toe-curling kiss. It feels like everything on the planet is reduced to this moment, her lips fused to those of this fascinating man, one hand behind her neck, another firmly anchored to her waist. She parts her lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss, and she thinks she'd probably tip over if it weren't for his steady grip, because he's quite literally taking her breath away.

They come up for air, and she takes in his kiss-swollen lips as they curve into a gentle smile. This is more intimate than she anticipated. Not that she didn't want to kiss him, but holy shit, he's a good kisser.

She smiles, "Your place or mine?"

"Mine is a few blocks east of here."

Clarke nods at the building at the corner of the block, "Well, mine's right there. And if I'm thinking if we have to trek multiple blocks, it'll probably end up with you fucking me in an alley or something." The thought alone sends a bolt of lust through her, and who knew she had a public sex kink?

He grins, "Your place, it is." He laughs, "Unless you're wanting the whole alley sex thing."

She shakes her head with a laugh, "My place is slightly more comfortable than an alley."

It takes an exceptionally long time to make it to the other end of the block, mainly because he keeps pressing her into the side of a building to make out some more. As flawless as his kisses are, she really wants to be wearing less clothing. Actually, she wants to be wearing no clothing. She drags him along until they get to the her apartment building, trying her hardest not to drop her keys as she fumbles to unlock the downstairs door. It is absolutely not helping that he's nibbling at the back of her neck while his hands are teasing at waistband of her jeans.

He growls into her hair, "I swear to god, if you don't get that door open right now, I'm fucking you right here." Clarke shudders at his words. His hand slips fully inside her pants, and his fingers teasingly find their way between her folds. She's tempted to just drop her keys and see how far he'll really go. Again, the public sex kink is a surprise, one she'll have to revisit another time, because the door is finally open and they stumble into the foyer. He ravages her neck while they wait for the elevator, only interrupted by a judgmental clearing of the throat by Mrs. Smith from 7B. Clarke pushes him away with a laugh as the three of them pile into the elevator. She's pretty sure that if her neighbor wasn't there to give them disapproving glares, Bellamy would have her naked by the time they reached her floor. When they get to her floor, she grabs him by the hand and pulls him along, practically sprinting. She figures that if she keeps him moving, they have a shot at making it to her apartment still clothed.

She manages to get her apartment door open quickly, and by the time it shuts, Clarke has pushed Bellamy against the wall, standing on her toes to press her lips against his. He groans into her mouth as she begins to unbuckle his belt, palming him through the fabric. He grabs her by the wrist to stop her as he walks her backwards to another wall. Okay, clearly he likes to be in charge. And that is just fine with Clarke. She squeaks when her back hits the wall and feels like she's about to melt into a puddle of lust when she feels him wrench her arm behind her back.

He pauses a second, "Give me a safe word."

She smirks, "My safe word is 'safeword.' Are you gonna get rough with me, Blake?"

He laughs as he pulls back to look at her, "I didn't tell you my last name."

She scoffs, "Oh, please. You've got a Wikipedia page for fuck's sake."

He raises an eyebrow, "You've looked me up on Wikipedia?"

"Maybe," She shrugs, completely unapologetic.

"Shit. You are into me."

She laughs, "I may or may not have attended a porn convention in Vegas back in 2013 to see you."

He pauses, "Wait. The AVN Adult Entertainment Expo? January 2013?" Clarke nods, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. He laughs, "Shit. I knew I recognized you. The blonde who wouldn't get in line."

Clarke's mouth drops open, "What?"

He laughs, "Yeah, holy shit. You were wearing a white shiny top, but it was covered with like, a cardigan or something. You looked totally out of place. I mean, you were one of the only woean there wearing actual clothes." He rakes his eyes over her form, "You were totally stunning." He huffs in amusement, "Yeah that was definitely you. I kept hoping you would come over, but you just stood there. I couldn't tell if you were glaring or salivating."

Clarke laughs, "Oh my god, salivating. Definitely salivating."

"I had to go do a photo op for a film they were promoting, but I sent my agent's assistant over to see if you'd come over."

Clarke shakes her head, "No way. You're fucking kidding me."

"Not kidding. But she couldn't find you."

Clarke is still a little bit stunned by this revelation. "You thought I was stunning?"

He raises an eyebrow, "Have you seen yourself?"

She laughs in disbelief, "I'm a hot mess, Blake. Stunning is the last word I'd use to describe me right now."

His free hand makes its way under her top and he wraps his fingers over her ribcage, just underneath her breasts. He lowers his mouth to her ear and breathes, "It's exactly the word I'll use to describe you."

Clarke shivers as she closes her eyes, "Oh my god."

He whispers, "I usually go by Bellamy." He lets go of her arm and both of his hands travel to her ass. She gets the hint and lets him pick her up, her legs instinctively wrap around his waist.

"Now, I'm going to fuck you until you scream."

Clarke nods feverishly, "Yeah, you should do that."

He grins as he carries her down the hallway. He opens a door and turns on the light and Clarke laughs, "Wrong door. This is the bathroom." She realizes just a second too late that "Bobby" is still sitting proudly on her bathroom counter. And yup, Bellamy sees it. She squeezes her legs tighter and buries her face into his neck, hoping to hide her embarrassment.

After a moment of silence, "Is that-?"

Clarke huffs against his neck, "No comment."

With one hand still underneath Clarke's ass, he grabs the dildo and inspects it.

"Holy shit, Clarke. You've got my dick."

She gasps, hoping to portray naivety, "What? What makes you think-"

He pulls her head away from his neck so he can see her face and gives her a smirk that clearly calls her on her bullshit. "I think I know what my own cock looks like. Not to mention, the name is right here on the base."

She rolls her eyes and scoffs, "Fine… It's yours." He looks her over with a grin that on any other day would leave her feeling downright scandalized. But tonight? She wants to fuck that grin right off his face. She gives him a challenging smirk, "I can do some pretty sensational things with that cock. Think you can do better?"

He huffs, "Oh, you have no idea what you're in for."

Clarke tamps down a shiver, instead giving him a (hopefully) unimpressed glare. "Wow, you talk a big game..." He huffs with a shrug of his shoulders, and yeah, she's pretty sure he'll deliver. She adds, "And by the way, my room is on the other side of the hallway."

His voice is teasing, "Am I gonna find posters of myself in there or anything?"

Clarke shakes her head with an amused sigh, "I tend to keep my depravity hidden, so no, I don't have posters of you on my wall. Jesus…"

He stumbles across the hallway and opens the door to the bedroom. He turns on the lights and looks around, "Okay. So far, it all seems normal." He deposits her onto the mattress and she props herself up on her elbows to take in the view. He stands up and peers around a little more, "Do you have a shrine or anything that I should know about?"

"Oh my god! No! That-" she gestures at the dildo in his hand, "-is as far as it goes."

He laughs, "Relax. But, you do know you're never going to live this down, right?"

Clarke huffs and mutters, "Of all the days I have to run into my porn star crush…"

He tosses the dildo to the side and kneels down on the bed, inserting his knee between her thighs, purposely grinding it gently into her heat. He tugs at her shirt hem so she sits up and lets him peel it off while she works her own hands underneath his shirt. She revels in his shiver when she scrapes her fingernails across his abdomen. He pulls his own shirt off, revealing airbrush-perfect abs. She's genuinely skeptical, so she licks a finger and drags it across, just to see if there's makeup or something that will smear off. Nope. The man is a perfect specimen.

She sighs, "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

He laughs, "I spend a disgusting amount of time at the gym."

"That makes me feel a little better. Because if you were one of those naturally built people, I'd be, like… ugh."

The smirk on his face is ridiculous, "Well, the gym just perfects what's naturally there."

She smacks at his chest with a laugh, "You're a cocky asshole."

"I won't deny that."

She gives him a daring grin, "You going to back up that cockiness?"

"You bet your ass I am." He unhooks her bra and pulls it off of her, then pauses to rake his gaze over her body. "Jesus, are these natural?"

Clarke laughs, "What do you think?"

"At the store, I figured they were fake because they were like, perfect. And after the whole firm/soft conversation, I just kinda assumed." He squeezes at them in each hand, then pushes them together with undeniable fascination, "Shit. These are your god-given tits."

Clarke shrugs, amused by his stupor, "Yeah, I know. They're pretty awesome." He just keeps staring at them with this awed look on his face, and Clarke's not gonna lie, that's a huge confidence booster coming from a guy who spends his days surrounded by perfect breasts.

Bellamy shakes his head, "You don't understand. Like 95% of the girls I'm with are surgically enhanced. And they feel fake. Like, sometimes I have to stop myself from laughing on set because I feel like I'm squeezing giant stress balls or something." He caresses her with near-reverence, "These feel amazing."

Clarke kind of doesn't know what to say, so she just gives in to the greed coursing through her and releases a shameless moan as he rakes his fingernails across her sensitive nipples.

"And shit, you really feel this, don't you?"

Clarke gives him a quizzical stare when she breathes, "What do you mean?"

"Not to get too medical in bed here, but a lot of the girls' augmentations go through the nipple, for aesthetics."

She nods, "Oh. Yeah. I thought that was supposed to go back to normal after a while, though." He raises an eyebrow in question, and Clarke continues, "I wasn't bullshitting you that I'm a doctor. I'm not in plastics, but I remember the basics." She keeps thinking it through, "Now that I think about it, I remember learning that the larger the implant, the more likely there's damage to the nerves… and considering the size of pornstars' breasts… Man, that sucks for them."

He smirks, "Yeah. Still, the camera loves nipple play. It's ridiculous, some girls don't even realize I'm messing with their nipples at first, so they'll look down and see what I'm doing, then start making all these moans that are obviously fake." He tweaks her nipples with a wicked grin, seemingly delighted with her involuntary (and very vocal) reactions.

She groans, "Well, stop talking about it, and do something. And enjoy the fact that every little sound that-" he closes a mouth over her nipple and sucks, effectively derailing her train of thought as she cries out in undeniable pleasure. He takes it between his teeth and bites gently, looking up at her face to gauge her reaction. She nods, "More…" so he pulls it away from her body and releases it to give attention to her other breast. When she brings her hand up to play with her recently abandoned nipple, he grabs hold of her wrist again and pins it to the mattress above her with a growl. And shit that's hot.

He shakes his head, "I'll take care of you." He smirks, "Now sit back and relax."

Clarke brings her other hand above her head and clasps them together with a nod as she teasingly bites down on her lower lip.

He does not disappoint. He alternates his play between his hands and mouth and the effect is fucking blissful. He moves lower and Clarke realizes she's still wearing her jeans. He makes short work of the zipper and Clarke lifts her hips up so he can pull them off her hips. She's confused because she's still wearing her panties, but when he gently bites down on her mound with them still on, she's indescribably turned on by the act. He travels lower, hands still playing at her breasts, and mouths her through her underwear, and why has she never fantasized about this before? She resigns herself to the blissful sensations, gasping when he finally noses her underwear over so he can suck her clit into his mouth. She bemoans the abandonment of his hands on her breasts until he starts using them down there and oh. god. He licks into her while his thumbs trap her throbbing clit, then switches so his fingers crook against that wonderful spot inside of her while his mouth does sinful things to her clit, and the sensations keep building and building as she reaches her climax. She feels like her body levitates off the bed when the pleasure comes crashing down on her, and afterwards she's left feeling like she's bobbing in an ocean while she comes back to her senses.

She opens her eyes and sees him smirking up at her from between her knees. She sighs, "Not like you need me to stroke your ego, but you're pretty fucking good at that."

He laughs, "Yeah, I know."

She huffs while she pulls him back on top of her, "And so humble, too." At some point he must have ditched the rest of his clothes, and she realizes her own panties have disappeared, as well. If she's being honest, the building around her could've burned down and she'd have been blissfully unaware of it. Still…

"I have a condom, but just one."

She smacks her hand at her bedside table, "Use mine. They're not expired, or worn down because of being squished in a wallet for however long that one's been there…"

He laughs, "I know better than to put them in a wallet. Remember, my occupation depends on effective prophylaxis."

Clarke huffs, "Still."

"Size?"

She smirks, "Magnum, asshole. Now suit up."

"You make a habit of sleeping with the well-endowed?"

She shrugs, "My ex-girlfriend liked me to use Bobby on her for anal, and I always use condoms on toys if they're going that… direction."

He stops a second and ducks his head down. "Holy. Fucking. Shit." He looks back up at her, "So not only are you genuinely bisexual. But you named my dick. After me. And used it to fuck other girls."

Clarke nods her head with a wicked smirk, "Yes to all of the above. And I also use it to fuck myself on the regular."

He shakes his head, "Fuck."

Clarke laughs, exasperated, "Yeah, that's what I'm trying to make happen here!" She sits up and stretches back to retrieve a condom out of her side table. She rips it open and rolls it onto his throbbing length with a satisfied grin, "See? Told you it'd fit." She pushes him onto his back and straddles his waist, pleased that she was able to distract him enough to get him in this position. "I think I like you on your back."

He grins as his hands find their way to her breasts again, "I don't mind the view from down here."

She rises on her knees high enough to position herself above him. She closes her eyes and lets her head drop back as she sinks down, relishing the way he fills her up. When he's buried to the hilt, she lifts her head back up and meets his gaze.

"Oh. my. god. This is so much better…"

He thrusts his hips up gently in response, "Told you."

Clarke chuckles as her body adjusts to his intrusion, "You've ruined your toy for me, so fuck you for that."

He smirks while his hands make their way to her breasts, "Babe, I haven't even gotten started yet..." She clenches around him, just to see what it does to him. His eyes slam shut. "Oh fuck, you feel fucking incredible."

She starts to experimentally move her hips in a slow back-and-forth rocking motion while he pulls and plays at her breasts, still with that stupid grin on his face. She finds her favorite motion on Bellamy's real-life cock is to roll her hips back and forth while rising and sinking over him. He meets her thrusts skillfully, which isn't a surprise to Clarke. Remembering her favorite Rammer Bobby jerk-off video, she rakes her fingernails along his areolas, first lightly to test. Satisfied with his shivering groan, she scrapes a little harder, and this awakens something primal inside of him. He holds onto her hips with a bruising grip and holds her down on him while he thrusts up into her, and something about the controlling clutch he keeps on her is incredibly erotic. She lets her eyes drift closed while he grinds his pubic bone up against her clit, and she startles herself with her responding cry. She opens her eyes and sees him smiling up at her, and she thinks her heart just skipped a few beats. He's not supposed to be smiling, he's supposed to be smirking like an asshole, because this is raunchy casual sex, not love-making. This sweet-looking man below her is disconcerting.

Suddenly she's on her back. If the smile was supposed to be a distraction, it certainly worked. He turns her to her side and straddles her bottom leg while he holds the top leg high and thrusts into her. She almost screams at the sudden and beautiful invasion. She barely has a moment to catch her breath before he starts to move within her, winding her up like a goddamn top. She can't figure out what to do with her hands, so she fists one hand into the sheets above her while the other one makes its way to her body, wandering deliciously along her curves. She feels his fingers intertwine with hers, which is nearly disarming in its intimacy.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Clarke... So good around me." She finds it difficult to formulate sentences, so she limits her replies to appreciative moans.

His other hand anchors itself around her thigh while he thrusts madly into her, then makes a teasing trail to her clit. He presses down and lets up a few times before he starts making circular motions in time with his thrusting. She feels a luscious pressure coiling up inside of her, so exquisite it's almost painful to keep inside. As if her body is trying to figure out how release this sublime tension and the only way out is through him. His thrusts become brutal as they stroke that magical spot deep inside of her and she bites her lip so hard she thinks she may have drawn blood.

She cries out, "I'm so close!"

He nibbles on the back of her leg by his face and she can feel the beaded sweat on his forehead drip down to the place where his lips meet her skin. "Fuck, Clarke. You wanna come on my cock, don't you?"

She nods frantically, "Come with me… Please, I want you to-" She's cut off by his intensified efforts on her clit. His thrusts become harsh, vicious, wild.

The raunchy voice she loves on video has nothing on the filthy strangled groans she's gifted from the real thing, "Do it! Come on my cock, Clarke... I wanna feel it... C'mon, together."

Her whole body shakes as she gives in, and their mutual release is nothing short of glorious. She wishes the condom weren't there because, even through the clenching of her own walls, she can feel the pulsations of his cock as he shoots his cum out, and fuck she wants to feel that inside of her… She lets herself relax into the mattress underneath her while her chest heaves. Bellamy pulls out and stands up off the bed. Clarke admires the view of his perfectly toned ass as he walks into the bathroom to dispose of the condom.

She rolls onto her back when he comes back in and smirks at his disheveled hair and swollen lips. She isn't sure what happens now – she doesn't do one-night-stands, so she's not sure of the protocol here. She figures she'll play it by ear for now, so she's pleasantly surprised when he flops down beside her onto the mattress. He props one hand up behind his head while the other one is trailing up and down her naked torso.

"I really like sex off camera."

Clarke laughs, "Me too. Though, toe be fair, I've never had sex on camera."

He laughs softly, "I like when nobody's acting. I like feeling an actual connection with someone. I like that connection with you."

She feels her chest squeeze a little, so she coughs, as if the action will force feelings away, "It was good. Really fucking good."

He smiles again, one of those radiant smiles that meet his eyes. They lie there in comfortable silence for a while, until Clarke's stomach growls embarrassingly loudly and they both break down in laughter.

He her in the eye, "Please tell me you didn't leave the grocery bag at the diner."

She shakes her head, "No, I dropped it by the front door somewhere."

They both roll out of bed. Clarke stretches her arms above her head, genuinely loving Bellamy's fascination with her breasts. "I need to use the restroom. Will you find us something to eat? It'll all be in the grocery bag. I'm only a marginally functioning adult, and I don't have much food in my cabinets."

Bellamy chuckles as they walk out of the bedroom, "And we're supposed to trust you with peoples' lives?"

Clarke laughs, "I hope you feel reassured, knowing our big secret."

"What big secret?"

She laughs on her way into the bathroom, "That doctors have terrible health habits."

He smacks her playfully on her ass, "My worried lips are sealed, doc."

Clarke closes the bathroom door and looks at herself in the mirror. I just fucked myself a porn star… She's not ashamed to admit that she's impressed with herself. After she's done using the restroom, she comes out to see Bellamy, in his naked glory (same as her), sitting at the dining room table, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

He hears her and turns around, "I found peanut butter."

She nods, "I see. You're doing it wrong, though."

He scoffs, "Excuse me?"

She shakes her head with teasing condescension, "You have to put the peanut butter on both sides."

"No, that's wrong. If you do that, there's too much peanut butter."

She gasps, "Take that back. There is no such thing as too much peanut butter."

He laughs, "There absolutely is."

"Fine, maybe there is such a thing, but if you don't put peanut butter on both sides, the jelly leaks into the bread and it gets all soggy."

He huffs, "With sugar!"

"That's disgusting!"

He smirks as he closes up his sandwich and takes a bite. "It's perfect."

She makes her own sandwich, correctly and somehow dramatically, spreading peanut butter on both sides and jelly in the middle. She cuts it down the center and now it's his turn to throw a fit.

"Dear god, woman. You slice it the wrong way, too!"

Her mouth drops open, "I do not!"

He laughs, "Just eat your goddamn sandwich."

She takes an exaggerated bite of her delicious, correctly-made, perfectly sliced sandwich and makes a show of groaning wantonly to make her point.

He smiles and nods his head, "Fine. You win. You like your version better."

Clarke "hmmmphs" and continues eating.

After a minute she asks, "Rammer Bobby. Where the fuck did that come from?"

Bellamy laughs out loud, "It was a joke, actually. When I started doing porn ten years ago, I didn't intend to stay in it. It was just like, 'Hey, this pays well, and I get to fuck hot girls. I'm in." So my friend Miller and I used to have these challenges on who could come up with the most absurd pseudonym for upcoming shoots. Well, in the film that kick-started my career, I was "Rammer Bobby" and the name stuck."

Clarke laughs, "You couldn't change it?"

He shrugs, "I could've, but I didn't. Kind of an inertia thing, I guess. It's a big hit with ladies and the studios like to market it."

Clarke nods with a grin, "I hear you."

After a few minutes of companionable silence, he asks, "You asked earlier why I hadn't been on a date with a woman outside of the industry in years."

Clarke nods. Her mouth is still full, so she just says, "mmm hmm."

"It's because I didn't want to get to a place where I couldn't do my job."

Clarke swallows her bite, "A relationship would keep you from doing your job?"

"A serious one would. If I were in a meaningful relationship, I wouldn't want to do my job. I would feel like I was hurting someone."

Clarke nods, "I can see your point."

"So I decided to wait until I was finished with porn to pursue relationships outside of the business. I didn't want it to become a point of contention, or cause resentment on either side."

"That's smart, actually."

"Yeah." He chews and swallows the last bite of his sandwich. "I'm retiring."

Clarke nearly chokes. Bellamy comes up behind her like he's ready to do the Heimlich, but she shakes her head and successfully clears her own airway. Once she's recovered enough to breathe normally, she asks, "Why the fuck would you do that?"

Bellamy laughs, "Because I'm 30. Almost 31. I have no desire to be Ron Jeremy, so I've been working to slowly extricate myself from the business. I've been in school for the last nine years, and I'll have my Ph. D in December."

Clarke's mouth drops open, "Holy shit. That's awesome."

He smiles, "I've have a job offer for an Archivist position, and I'm taking it. I told myself at the beginning, once I could get a job I liked better than porn, I'd quit porn. And this archivist position is exactly that."

Clarke smacks him playfully on the shoulder, "So, you're a doctor."

He laughs, "I will have my Doctorate. Got a few months to go. But yeah."

"Well, good job. I'm really happy for you." She huffs with a smirk, "I mean, I'm kinda pissed. Because I'll won't have any more new material to work with."

Bellamy furrows his brows, "New material?"

Clarke rolls her eyes, "Porn, Bellamy. Porn. I have my favorites, for sure, but I'm always looking for more of you!"

He chuckles and looks almost nervous, "Well, I'd like to keep seeing you… if that's something you're interested in."

She grins teasingly, "I think that's the least you can do, Blake."

That beaming smile of his is back, "I'll give you all kinds of new material."

"Good. Because I don't think I'm ready to give you up just yet. And I don't think my 'Bobby' toy is gonna cut it anymore. No thanks to you."

"You done eating yet?" His grin is downright filthy.

She barely finishes nodding her head before he's thrown her over his shoulder for round two...