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Post by John Murphy on Nov 7, 2018 23:27:01 GMT
A John Murphy board, please!
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Post by John Murphy on Jun 5, 2017 13:21:28 GMT
Each stroke from Bellamy's hand as he rode out the high lit every nerve, just as he thought his bliss had been topped, the other man kindled more, with Murphy's hips absently rolling to the man's touch as his climax finally ebbed and Bellamy withdrew. He lingered where he was for a moment or two more. Head resting on his arm as he steadied himself, mind and body, and finally eased onto his side to face Bellamy. Now with the ecstasy of the act fading to its more-than-pleasureable aftermath, his gaze followed the path of Bellamy's hand as the other brought it to his lips. The run of tongue to taste Murphy enthralling, resparking his lust despite the fact he was spent.
There was something almost possessive in the feeling, from Murphy's side at least, that Bellamy was tasting him, as if the act was the gratifying conclusion of everything that had led them here. A confirmation wrapped in one lewd lick, even if Bellamy might have done it anyway without such pretext, Murphy enjoyed the implication regardless. If only in his own thoughts.
His breath had begun to steady as Bellamy's finger dipped to offer him a taste too, Murphy's lips already curving to a soft grin at the tease-tainted remark. A flick of his tongue to the other man's fingertip and he caught it between his teeth, the grin broadening as he applied a little pressure before letting go and tilting his head enough to free it from his mouth. "... Shut up." He chased his response with a faint huff in amusement, still eyeing Bellamy with that lazy smirk.
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Post by John Murphy on Feb 14, 2017 19:39:03 GMT
Gena. He recognized the name as she gave it, recalling her from the Ark even before her offering the clarification. Not that he knew her well at all, but she had certainly been a familiar face up there, and again on the ground while he'd still been at the Arker camp. She'd been friendly in comparison to many others, or at least civil. Always seeming to have a calm demeanor and a soft smile in Murphy's recollection. He'd always silently appreciated it, even if never fully acknowledging that fact himself.
"... Gena..." He quietly repeated and now as she came closer he could see she looked different; no surprise given where they were, both prisoners and apparently both injured. Yet, still she greeted with kind words. In one piece... despite everything and he was glad of it. "For now..." He cast a glance to the cell door but soon refocused on the other Arker, his voice low. "Thought it was just grounders in here... how'd they get you?" He gave her a quick glance over in a brief assessment of the state of her, wondering if she'd had a similar beating before being dragged in here. Another glance around the cell as if he might spot more Arkers hiding in the shadows but regardless, it was good to see her too among so many strangers, whether he said so or not.
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Post by John Murphy on Jan 30, 2017 16:40:30 GMT
I need to just...
Murphy
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Post by John Murphy on Jan 26, 2017 0:38:01 GMT
He was still deciding whether or not he was in a better place since he'd been taken along with the other delinquents. Beyond the welcome and apparent safety of the facility, was it really somewhere they could relax? Regardless, there wasn't much chance of relaxation for Murphy, not considering the comments and looks of disgust he was offered by many of the other Arkers. Even among them - his people - the only familiar factor in this place, he was still apart. So whatever the intent of this place and its people, whether or not they represented a safe refuge, Murphy would be on his own.
So he'd mostly kept to himself other than the occasional question or comment to someone, Arker or mountain dweller, the response from those of the latter usually more civil at least. They'd patched him up too; a plus in this whole mess and helpful if and when he left this place. However, from what he'd managed to gather, leaving wasn't as simple as merely walking out of the door. Instead, he'd watch. Listen to conversations he wasn't included in, explore the areas they were given access too and beyond if he could, but for the most part he'd observe. At least nobody was calling for his death. Yet.
There was a fleeting thought that somebody might have when he was summoned, though when questioned the guards had appeared not to really know what for even if they hadn't admitted as much. Still, Murphy figured it was unlikely to be something good but reluctantly went along, one of the guards now leading him to a door and inside as they were beckoned to enter. Another guard? Murphy had seen him around though the two hadn't yet spoken, and now as he was left alone with him, the door closed behind and maybe locked for all he knew, his gaze settled on the man. The gesture to sit was ignored, Murphy's gaze drifting around the room, to the door, and finally back to Emerson. "... What is this... am I about to be interrogated?" There was the faintest smirk as he spoke, but beneath it, hidden fear.
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Post by John Murphy on Jan 26, 2017 0:31:19 GMT
The grounders hadn't so much as led him into the cell as thrown him in. He'd expect nothing less considering the 'welcome' he'd already received elsewhere in this hellhole, and given the state of several other prisoners as he cast a glance around him, a few of them might have been honored with the VIP treatment too. He got to his feet anyway as the grounder guards slammed the cell closed, gaining his bearings as he took in just what he'd been thrown into. Being among other prisoners didn't necessarily mean a brief respite from assault.
Nobody stirred other than a few turned heads, so he settled to sit cross-legged on the spot he'd originally landed in the middle of the cell, head dipping a touch as he felt the sting of his wounds. How or if he'd get out of here now he had no clue, but if a chance were to arise, he would take it. There was barely time for him to sink into his own thoughts before he heard his name, though he didn't recognize the voice. Head raised he glanced across the cell, hinting a frown once his gaze settled on the corner, though the dim light concealed who had spoken up. "... Who's that?"
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Post by John Murphy on Oct 30, 2016 0:26:18 GMT
The shouting of his name halted his pacing, the only voice other than his own that had spoken up at all, and now when somebody finally had it was apparently to admonish him? Why would he be surprised? He scanned the crowd as a few started to edge aside as one of them pushed through, Murphy's gaze settling on her once she did. Ready for her to spout a defense for Charlotte; why else would she come pushing through the other delinquents to reach him? Her reprimand wasn't the one he'd anticipated.
It gave him pause, staring at the girl as he debated whether or not she could actually be mocking him, and leaving Mbege to get in her way while he decided. Before he had, she went on. Almost hanged. Almost? The rings raw and burning at his neck begged to differ. They had hanged him. Was that what they'd grasp for now? Belittle their assault with 'almost'. Seething at the implication he intended to argue, but she went on, pushing past Murphy's friend to set herself in front of him. Still he couldn't tell if she was mocking him until her gaze shifted back his way, looking him over. There came no ridicule of his calls for Charlotte to be handed over, instead of what might have been an explosive tirade had she questioned it, her apparent care for his physical state took him aback.
Though only momentarily, his anger raging too wildly to be doused just like that, and certainly too much to even consider stepping away from the tent where the real murderer had found refuge... for now. Murphy stayed put, glaring at the girl save a glance to Mbege who in turn looked his way, his friend's expression reflecting his own skepticism of the girl's intentions. Though now she spoke of the justice Murphy was eager for, attempting to coax him to leave Mbege and the few who were with him on guard. Another glance to his friend, offering a smirk this time, bitter as it was as he looked back her way.
"I'll move when they bring her out here. When she gets what I got... " Again he turned towards the tent, demanding his pound of flesh as his voice raised once more. "When that little bitch gets what she deserves!" Still there was no sign of movement at the entrance of the tent, those inside hell-bent on this protection of the child. He would wait them out, resolving to breach the tent with the few at his side if he had to, though what the crowd or Bellamy, Clarke and Finn would do then he couldn't be sure.
As the girl went on he turned back towards, the smirk reappearing only to contort to something more vicious this time, as he took a step nearer to her. "Something I'm not? Like... guilty? They already tried to kill me for no reason." Another step to bring him in close. He could feel the stinging from each cut, the scrape on his throat with every word, but the stress of the entire event was spurring him on, holding him up, and he wasn't going anywhere. "And they didn't 'almost' hang me... they just didn't finish the job."
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Post by John Murphy on Oct 29, 2016 21:51:57 GMT
Unsure of what the reply might be, if he'd had to guess he'd have gone for expecting a somewhat confident response, whether Bellamy would have meant it or not. At one point, Murphy may have guessed a more aggressive reply to an apparent questioning of the other's leadership, back in earlier days. If that was unlikely now, perhaps just a shrug and affirmation, followed by a subject change. What he got was an honest answer. Or so it seemed to him, with any potential pretense falling away at the word.
It coaxed Murphy's gaze once more, if only to settle on Bellamy cup for the moment, until the following question drew it up to rest on the man himself. After everything he'd done, as he'd put it, would Murphy think he was up to the job? Should he? Had he been asked the same thing several months before he'd have no doubt scoffed, after his own brand of trust placed in the leader had been short-lived. With good reason. But that ever pertinent point in time couldn't fully dictate his views now, not with all they'd been through. Alone and together.
As Bellamy went on it became clear there was more than a possible lack of self-confidence in reaction to his new position in the camp. Maybe confidence wasn't the problem at all, instead reluctance, a touch of bitterness? Perhaps the older man felt undeserving of the title. Each seemed to be present in Bellamy's voice behind his usual demeanor, but whether it was one or all or none of those things, he'd still said more than Murphy had expected. He held his gaze on Bellamy as the other looked his way with a confirmation of intent, despite everything else. A while longer Murphy studied him before his attention drifted back to his own cup, the silence drawing out a little more before he spoke up. "I don't see anyone else around here who should do it."
Sure there were those who could do it but should they? Whether it was an echo of misplaced trust or the result of a newly rooted one, had Murphy bothered to vote at all it might have been for Bellamy. "So, convenient or whatever... " He trailed off to take another long drink from his cup, eyeing the remaining contents as he set it down. "You got them this far, right?"
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Post by John Murphy on Oct 28, 2016 4:43:19 GMT
"Bring out the girl, Bellamy!" His throat was raw from the rope, from his strained and desperate begging but he didn't care to spare it now. Anger seared through every hoarse word as he demanded the girl be handed over to him. "Bring the girl out, now!" Furious at the crowd, at the girl, her protectors, his would-be executioner. Everyone save a small few who had bothered to brave any attempt to stop the offense from taking place. To stop them all from killing him. For nothing.
For nothing!
Now they gathered around him once more, deadly silent as he called for justice. Cowards. His gaze darted from one to another as he paced, all of them guilty aside from those who stood closest to him. Back and forth he stepped, while seeking out the most bloodthirsty among them as far as he could see... faces that had called for his death with such twisted glee that he would never forget who they were. Or which delinquent had done what... tied the noose, tightened it around his neck...
"Hey, you want to build a society, princess?" His voice cracked a little more, chest burning with each breath to fuel it, but he continued to spit out the words with vehement ferocity regardless. They had to give the girl over, they had to... that was justice. What he would do once he had a hold of the brat he hadn't decided, and although flashes of a vicious retaliation had raced through his mind, every such thought had been directed to each of those culpable for what they had done to him. "Let's build a society... " And this forcing him to wait, to shout his insistance for an immediate and brutal answer to this crime against him. An answer that so few appeared to think was necessary. This was their law? This was their justice? Then he would have his own.
"Bring her out!"
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Post by John Murphy on Oct 27, 2016 23:46:32 GMT
The welcome now officially extended by Bellamy was met with a subtle relief Murphy hadn't expected to feel. Perhaps it was just that it represented an extra 'safety' after so much danger, however fragile it might really be. Or maybe it was in fact surprise, or a mix of the two, but Murphy lifted his gaze once more to Bellamy searching for the same sincerity in the other's expression that he'd sensed in his tone. He found it. And against his still raging doubts he felt a touch more at ease.
With his gaze lingering a few moments more on the other, Murphy let his attention fall again to his cup, offering a faint nod that the other man may or may not have noticed. Even in his silence, Murphy figured Bellamy would know his thoughts on the matter at least to some extent, considering he hadn't right away rejected the invitation to stay. If Emori did so and Murphy eventually decided to do the same, it wouldn't take away from the fact Bellamy had given it.
As Bellamy went on with statements that sounded befitting of what a chancellor should be, and in all honestly, statements that held a familiar quality to those the older man had spoken in the past. The same that had once even inspired Murphy on some level, at some point. But there was more to Bellamy's words, and whether it was in his voice or his eyes or was actually somehow emanating from the other, Murphy couldn't put his finger on what it was, only that it was there. "Well, I'm guessing they chose you for a reason, they must think you're up to the job." Another longer sip from his cup and his next words came lower, quieter. "Do you?"
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Post by John Murphy on Oct 27, 2016 22:10:26 GMT
Murphy dipped his head once again as Bellamy buried his own against his neck, the other's breath on his skin sending a new ripple of warmth through his body, heightened still with the purposeful rocking of Bellamy's hips into him. The lack of retort or quip from the other was no surprise, and Murphy didn't care to tease him any further, his thoughts now dizzying as he neared with no other goal than the release that was now achingly within reach.
His attempts at not breaking his playfully stubborn silence floundered with the final deep thrust that drove Bellamy over the edge, a breathless moan now escaping Murphy's lips, though muffled and quickly hushed as he pressed his mouth against his own arm. His other hand still grasped at the other man's hip even as the movement there ceased, while that of Bellamy's fingers curled around him continued to pull him closer and closer to elation. If he could prolong such a sensation he would still struggle to do so, the imminent reward so thrilling that his hips attempted to move despite the constraints of the position, desperate to push into his partner's hand. There was no need, with the perfect slide of Bellamy's grasp finally bringing Murphy to the brink and over. A heavy moan of pleasure escaping, in spite of any fading will to keep quiet.
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Post by John Murphy on Oct 27, 2016 21:18:09 GMT
Right, not quite a win. A responsibility, perhaps? Either way it appeared to be one Bellamy wasn't keen on, or maybe he was just recovering from the most recent events along with everyone else. Though Murphy suspected there was more to it. In his absence there had clearly been a lot going on he was still unaware of, regardless of what he'd learned since returning here. Circumstances exclusive to Bellamy's experience, just as Murphy had those of his own of which Bellamy was unaware. And perhaps it would always remain that way. A lot had changed.
Bellamy's question still coaxed a brief flash of distrust as Murphy cast a sidelong glance, with a moment's thought the other would follow up by telling him he should get going as soon as possible. But the thought faded just as quickly. He knew it not to be the case, at least not right now. With no intent to put any confidence in the current welcome or tolerance of his presence at camp, he was still fairly sure Bellamy had no inclination to kick him out just yet. Particularly following what had happened since their paths had crossed once more.
Not only during the battle against A.L.I.E, but the confrontation at Polis before they'd left had also been significant. At least to Murphy. The irony of the situation had not been lost on him. An angry crowd apparently accusing him of a murder he hadn't committed and once again, Bellamy Blake stood between him and them. Only this time it had been in his defense. And he'd been thankful, if only silently. Now he offered an answer of sorts, realizing he still wasn't sure where he would end up. "I don't know if Emori wants to stay here... " He drew his cup closer before picking it up to sip, setting it down as he looked to Bellamy as if to gauge his response. "... but I'm here for now." He lifted his cup again with a slight tilt of it as he spoke, implying he would stick around not only at the camp but the Hangar for a while longer. Another sip and he went on. "So what happens now?"
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Post by John Murphy on Oct 27, 2016 20:04:26 GMT
At the mention of the locks Murphy's gaze drifted back to Monty's cell door, but soon settled again on Jasper. He wouldn't put it past the other to actually try it, or half of those in the Skybox. Jasper was right. Although some of the delinquents were often on their best behavior in hopes of an eventual pardon, most of them seemed resigned to being floated once that day came, their careless behavior reflective of their expected fate. How true that was beyond cocky bravado was another matter, but Murphy was among those who had at times made light of their sentence. Pretense or otherwise.
Murphy wandered a step or two closer now, eyeing the other as he seemed to be attempting to spike his hair... or smooth it down? Murphy couldn't quite tell but the result was still somewhere in between, with something vaguely endearing about it. Not that he lingered on the thought, his mind shifting to their class once Jasper mentioned it. "Might have been... maybe he's all beat up in there." Another faint nod in the direction of the cell as he moved to lean on the railing, forearms resting there as he cast a glance down over it before returning his attention to Jasper. "So you think they're still going to float us?" Murphy figured as much himself but with all the theories flying around, he might as well hear another.
@jasper420
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Post by John Murphy on Oct 27, 2016 3:41:52 GMT
Her suggestion prompted a quiet huff along with a derisive glance over her. "You're not everyone's flavor, Roma... a little too sour for me." He knew better than to expect her to whimper at such a remark or the highlighting of her free-loving ways, but since she kept throwing out mindless insults, few of which would hit the spot, he'd keep offering them right back. But a couple of hers had hit, even if only a little, moving his mildly irritated amusement more towards annoyance. And the way she yet again began to wander off while he was still talking to her sparked it a little more. She might not have provoked his anger as such, but that kind of disrespect wasn't going to fly anymore if he could help it. He was, after all, in charge at least in some capacity. Whether she liked it or not.
Even so, he knew that at this point Bellamy could strip that authority with a word if he wanted to, though it would be a bad move on the leader's part. Regardless, Murphy wanted to stay on his good side, but that side still didn't include Roma in Murphy's view. He let her saunter off while he backed up to the water with his gaze still on the other, grabbing the cup she had tossed in there to dip and fill it. If she ran off screaming that would be entertainment enough, but he couldn't let her go without something in response to the dismissal. Following after her he gave a flick of his wrist to empty the contents of the cup her way. Maybe she'd cool it now, but unlikely.
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Post by John Murphy on Oct 27, 2016 2:05:46 GMT
He hadn't expected the other to begin following after him, although considering Murphy was headed away it made sense. Even so, he slowed his already lazy pace a touch more, giving a nod towards the door where Jasper had been lingering outside. Monty Green's cell, he knew that much. Along with the fact the two had seemed inseparable until they were split up, seeming to mostly only be allowed out at different times. "Trying to break your friend out?" Answering Jasper's question with an unrelated one of his own.
It wasn't necessarily that he'd simply ignored it, more that he wasn't sure he wanted to answer. Yes, he was okay. As far as he would let anybody ever know, he was okay. Sure, he'd cursed Pike a little once they'd all been returned to the Skybox, but beyond that, Mbege was doing a good job of continuing that by himself. Murphy slowed to a halt now as he cast a glance over his shoulder, noting Mbege and the other delinquent behind him had paused to look back Jasper's way too, but soon continued their discussion.
Watching Jasper approach, Murphy's smirk taming a touch, he absently ran his tongue over a cut just inside his lip. Courtesy of Pike and still stinging, but nothing serious. Punches along with resulting cuts and grazes he could handle. It was the man's hands around his throat that had bothered him the most, not that he would admit that, to Jasper or anyone else. He was 'okay' by default, or by ignoring the fact he might not be. And honestly, a little surprised to hear the question in the first place.
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