Cam x MC x Ardent

I wanted to have some fun with this trio since Chapter 2 introduces the tension between Cam and Ardent—a rivalry that’s been brewing behind the scenes since Chapter 1. There's also a jealousy variable that kicks in this chapter, which means the dynamic can only get messier from here.

Word Count: 3924

When Cam asked you and Ardent to model for him, you’d hoped they’d call a truce before the day arrived. But of course, you’re not the least bit surprised to find them in each other’s faces instead.

They’re close enough in height that Cam doesn’t have to break his neck looking at Ardent–but the difference still shows.

Ardent is what one (and by “one,” you mean your friendly author M) would call a Dorito Dilf—a term they’d once scribbled in their notes that still makes you laugh to this day. He’s broad, muscled, and looks like he could bench-press both you and Cam and barely break a sweat.

Cam is lean yet toned, with a waist perfect for wandering hands, curving in just the right way to tempt your palms.

The fiery redhead’s words pull you from your musings… and maybe just a little bit of ogling.

“Listen, you prick, I don’t like this any more than you do. But you owe me and–ah, hey!”

Ardent tossed his shirt at Cam, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Cam fumbles and the shirt sails past him—his camera slipping from his grasp, tumbling toward the concrete floor.

“Shitshitshit-!”

You don’t even think. Just move.

You lunge forward and catch it just inches from the ground, heart pounding. For a second, everything’s still.

That’s when their bickering stops and both finally notice you.

You straighten slowly, holding out the camera with a breathless little huff as they both stare–wide-eyed, stunned like you materialized out of nowhere.

Cam releases a shaky breath, that familiar lopsided grin already tugging at his lips.

“Holy shit, Red. T-thanks. I owe you—like—everything. Lunch. My soul. The air in my lungs.” He reaches out like he might hug you.

But Ardent’s faster.

His hand curls into your shirt, yanking you into his chest. It’s possessive. Unapologetic. Cam’s eyes narrow instantly.

“Alright, we get it,” Ardent mutters, his voice low as he glares past you. “You’d fall on your knees and kiss the ground they walk on.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Cam shoots back, sharp but tight.

There’s something behind his eyes now. Something flickering. His smile twitches, then falters. His hand drags down the bridge of his nose—like he’s trying to cool off the flush rising there.

Ardent rolls his eyes and finally glances at you. There’s something sharp in his gaze–annoyance, maybe jealousy. His eyes land on the discolored patch of skin on your neck. The one Cam had sucked between his teeth and flicked with his tongue.

Cam didn’t look the least bit sorry. He dared to look smug.

Kind of.

Smug and proud but also sheepish, like he knew he shouldn’t be grinning but couldn’t help it. His hand rubbed the back of his neck as he shrugged, trying and failing to play innocent.

“The hell is this?” asks Ardent, voice rough. His brows pulled tight. “I didn’t–“His gaze snaps to Cam. “You – “

“You have zero right to talk.” Cam’s eyes narrow, his hand reaching up to brush against a piercing on his ear. “Their thighs are covered in hickeys, dude. Don’t pretend that it wasn’t you. ” He scoffs. “It looked like you were playing connect-the-dots.”

Ardent’s lips twitched, just slightly, like he was trying not to smirk.

You groaned. “Guys—”

“Listen, I don’t have all day,” Ardent snaps. “Either get started, or I’m leaving.”

“My bad, old timer,” Cam mutters, rolling his eyes as he shifts the camera in his grasp.

“What—old?” Ardent steps forward, pointing at him. But Cam doesn’t budge. Stubborn as ever. The kind of stubbornness that’s earned him black eyes and bloodied noses more than once.

You step between them before it can spiral into an actual fight. One hand rest on Ardent’s arm. His bicep tenses under your touch… then slowly eases. Your other hand finds Cam’s shoulder. He leans into it, grounding himself.

“We agreed on no fighting, remember?” you say, calm but firm.

“But he—” Cam starts.

“No buts.”

God, no wonder Ardent calls him pup. The eyes, the pout. He wears the name too well.

The air in the room already feels heavy without their arguing adding to it. The oscillating fan does little against the humidity, which is made worse by Cam’s lighting setup. The heat clings to everything like a second skin.

Ardent stood shirtless, arms crossed over his chest, muscles on full display—the ones you’d watched him maintain in the cramped space of his makeshift home gym. The ones you’d nipped at when he wouldn’t get off the weight bench fast enough, to annoy him.

They’re not arguing with words now, but the tension coils between them anyway. A constant threat of detonation. The only reason they’re not at each other’s throat is you.

There were no rules about… this. The two of you.

Well. Three of you.

Your situation with Ardent changed first. It started weeks ago.

His sarcastic quips had softened over time, turning playful—almost affectionate. The irritation in his eyes had melted into something else. Something dangerous.

That night, after he overheard the fight with your mom when his calloused hands cradled your face — something snapped.

There was no space left between you. Limbs entangled, back pressed against a wall, lips brushing over sensitive skin, his hands tracing every curve.

That was how Cam found you—tucked away in one of the building’s halls. He just stood there, rooted in place.

His expression wasn’t anger. It was something worse.

A quiet, aching disappointment settled deep in your chest.

He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t leave either. He waited—silent—until you slipped free from Ardent’s arms. You expected him to tell you what a bad idea this was. That sleeping with your landlord—of all people—could be a disaster for both of you.

But he didn’t.

And somehow, that was almost harder to bear.

Until hours later.

When you got home, his steps were purposeful, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

At the door, he was there—too close. His breath warmed the back of your neck before he turned you around, pressing you to the wood as his hands braced the frame beside your head.

“I shouldn’t…” His voice broke. His forehead dropped to yours. But he didn’t pull back. Couldn’t. His words were out of his mouth before he could even think about stopping them.

“I know I couldn’t stop what happened, but fuck—I wish I could’ve. He shouldn’t be allowed to touch you like that. He doesn’t deserve to. You’re too fucking good for him. Red...”

His eyes flit across the details of your face. Never landing on one spot for too long as his words come out low yet rushed. A look in his eyes that hints at how hard he’s working to say the words. To admit something he’s thought for so long. “If he gets a chance—don’t I?”

Cam gave in. Surprising not just you but himself, his body jolting even though he’s the one to lean forward. Finally crossing that line between you—a simple thread that held him back for so long—eviscerated with one kiss.

It was rough and desperate like he was trying to make up for lost time, trying to rewrite what he’d seen as if claiming something that felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

His lips crashed into yours, hard enough your teeth clattered—but neither of you stopped. If anything, it added to the fire. His hands gripped you greedily, mouth trailing over skin that would soon bear marks you couldn’t hide.

“Ca–Cam.” Your breath ghosted against his lips. The sound made him shiver.

His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the color of his eyes. His jaw clenched as his resolve crumbled, hands roaming lower, sparking heat that curled deep in your belly.

“Careful, Cam,” a voice drawled from behind, every syllable laced with amusement.

Ardent.

“Bite marks don’t make them yours. Believe me.”

Cam stiffened. His grip tightened. And then… he let go.

You haven’t let yourself think about it since. But it still lives there—haunting you.

Now? Now the memory clings to you like the heat in the studio...

The silence stretches just long enough to feel loaded. Not quite a fight. Not quite peace. Just… waiting. For what, you’re not sure.

“Red?”

Cam’s voice yanked you back to the present. Concern softened his tone.

You blinked, brushing a hand over your eyes as if you could erase the memory. But the heat of that night still lingered, especially with both watching you now.

“Yeah?”

That familiar lopsided grin tugged at Cam’s lips—but beneath it, something uncertain.

Ardent’s gaze hadn’t left you either. Quiet. Calculating. But undeniably possessive.

And for the first time, you noticed—

They had that in common.

“Everything okay?” Cam asked softly.

No. Nothing had been okay since that night.

He held out an outfit for you to change into, nodding toward the curtain a few feet away.

“Sorry, I had to ask for your help with that asshat.” He shot a look at Ardent, who only shrugged. Cam sighed, turning back to you. “Anyway… I won’t make it last longer than I need to. Just a couple of group shots and some solos. I’ll treat you to dinner later.”

His cheek dimpled as he flicked the tip of your nose.

Your stomach growled as if food was enough of a reward for spending hours standing under hot lights, dressed in tight clothes. You couldn’t help but wonder how awkward this was going to be.

Considering the three of you have been… well.

“Help me with this.”

Ardent motioned you over, gesturing to the buckles he was fumbling with.

You moved without thinking, only for Cam to step between you. His eyes met yours—quiet but firm.

“Go get changed,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

His hands were already at the buckles before Ardent could argue. He worked fast, and efficiently, not touching more than he had to. Ardent frowned, watching you slip behind the curtain.

“Why are you pulling so tight?”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be. Hold still.”

“Says who? Are you trying to cut off circulation to my di—”

You took a deep breath, forcing out the cursed thought spiraling in your head. A devilish, tempting thought that would probably haunt you later tonight.

Focus. Outfit. Buckles.

So many damn buckles.

When you finally stepped out, Ardent was dressed too—his hair pulled back, a small braid tucked behind one ear. No stylist team, no assistants.

Which meant…

Cam braided it?

The thought almost made you laugh.

If Cam had done it, it’d be a bird’s nest.

So, it had to be Ardent. He’d braided it himself.

Somehow, that was worse.

It softened him. The hard edges, the deep voice, the constant air of asshole he worked so hard to maintain.

Dark leather pants clung to him, hugging his hips and leaving very—very—little to the imagination. Cutouts along the sides offered a glimpse of golden skin. His chest was bare except for the harness, straps, and a chain pulled taut across his torso.

You got a more-than-generous look at the cat paw tattoo inked over his hip. And a more-than-generous look at his muscles. And the trail of hair leading down, down, down, practically begging to be traced with your—

“Hey!”

A pale hand clapped over your eyes, cool metal rings pressing against your very hot, totally not blushing cheeks.

Ardent snickered.

Which meant you were definitely caught staring.

“I was— The outfit. I— It’s—” you sputtered, heat crawling up your neck as you gestured vaguely at yourself. “Like we stepped out of some kind of sexy biker magazine. Or one with, uh, bondage.”

Your outfits looked—and felt—like something dark. Forbidden. Glimpses of flesh, like an invitation to be scratched. Spanked.

Cam’s hand on your eyes slackened, but before you could pull away, he tugged you against his chest. His heartbeat thumped beneath your ear, steady and strong.

You hadn’t thought about it before—but now? Now it was impossible not to.

Sure, you were more covered than Ardent, but there was still a surprising amount of leather. Chains. A zipper on the back of your shorts that could only have been designed for one thing.

“Red,” Ardent drawled, using Cam’s nickname for you with a sweetness so thick it made your teeth ache. “Has a point. The only thing missing is a little collar.”

He gestured to your neck, his eyes flashing darker for a second—until Cam shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

Cam didn’t confirm or deny what the shoot was for, which told you everything you needed to know. Instead, he motioned toward the table where he’d laid out hair products and makeup—everything you might need to finish the look.

It didn’t take long. A little foundation here, a touch of lip color there—just enough to make it look like your mouth had been kissed. Bitten into.

“Alright, so while the old man’s out of earshot…” Cam glanced over his shoulder.

Ardent was settling into the padded black chair—the only real prop for the shoot, aside from a blanket and a few scattered candles.

For a split second, you thought Cam was finally going to bring it up.

That desperate kiss that left you reeling, pinned against the door as Ardent looked on.

Or maybe the one in the stairwell with Ardent.

But still, he said nothing.

Not that night after, when Cam had sprawled on the couch, his head in your lap, his mouth trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your thigh.

Not when his hands ghosted over bare skin, when his lips pressed against the curve of your spine when his breath broke against your ear as he pushed into you one last time. His voice cracked on a moan loud enough to carry through the apartment.

A fact you were reminded of when Ardent pressed his mouth against the apex of your thighs the following day.

You all knew what was happening—those little moments stolen throughout the day or night. Yet neither of you said anything.

“You were saying?” you asked, voice tight.

Cam’s hand pressed against your waist. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. But before he could find the courage to speak, Ardent cut him off.

“Are we doing this or what?”

Cam raked a hand through his hair, looking up at the ceiling as he swore under his breath.

Ardent’s butting-in was all the push he needed to speak. “I’ll tell you at dinner, okay?” he asked, voice soft.

You nodded, and his hand lingered at your lower back, guiding you toward Ardent. A touch that would be considered natural between you, yet his hand fidgeted nervously against you.

You’d never posed before—not really. Sure, you’d done the classic thumbs-up, heart-fingers, maybe flipped someone off back in the day—but this? This was different.

There was a method to the madness. Subtle intricacies of how to stand, where to look, how to angle your body—

“Everything okay?” Cam asked softly.

You took a deep breath and nodded, pulling the bottom of the shorts down as Cam got into position, lifting his camera.

“Alright. Let’s start with the full-body shots.”

You tried to move under the lights, stepping toward Ardent like you knew what you were doing – but it wasn’t instinct. Not really. Not with the heat of Cam’s focus on you, not with Ardent already looking like he’d been born in front of a camera. He stood there with one hand braced on his hip, the other lazily dragging down the strap of his harness as if this whole thing bored him. Like he was waiting for someone to give him a reason to enjoy it.

He wasn’t struggling like you, your movements a bit static.

His eyes slid over to you, and for the briefest second, something unreadable flickered across his face – like he remembered the stairwell too.

Cam shifted his stance, adjusting the camera. “Closer.”

You shifted half a step, uncertain.

It wasn’t enough.

Ardent said something under his breath, not hesitating as his arm came around your waist – not tight, just… there. Steady. Possessive. A silent I’ve got you that made your breath catch and your brain stutter. His thumb brushed against your lower back, warm and slow, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Cam’s voice came again, rougher as if struggling to speak. “Closer.”

You swallowed, nodding slightly as you stepped in. Your shoulder bumped against Ardent’s chest.

“That’s it,” Cam muttered. The shutter snapped. “Now, hold.”

You froze. Not just physically, but mentally. You didn’t know where to put your hands. On Ardent’s chest, on his hips? You weren’t sure what expression to make. And Cam didn’t tell you. He just kept clicking – sharp, loud sounds that echoed in the small space like a countdown.

You felt Ardent shift against you, his hips pressing against yours.

“You know,” he murmured, low and amused, “I think your little friend might be jealous,” he said, tracing the zipper of your shorts.

You startled when he tugged at the zipper, almost pulling away—

But his other hand caught your chin, tilting your face to meet his gaze. Then he angled your head, making you look straight at Cam.

“Let him see your reaction when I touch you.”

Ardent pulled you in just enough for his knee to slip between yours. One hand trailed lower, settled beneath your butt, gripping the back of your thigh and lifting—just enough to steal your breath.

A pause.

A soft click of the tongue.

Then the camera shutter clicked again.

Cam didn’t move. He was still—rigid. Hands clenched around the camera like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His jaw tensed. Lips parted, just slightly — Like he was about to speak. Like he wanted to. His eyes locked with yours. And stayed.

Even as Ardent’s hand holding your chin shifted to circle your neck, emphasizing the touch with just a slight squeeze that caused you to gasp.

He presses a thumb along the hickeys, now covered with concealer, as he leans in so that his mouth is brushing against your ear.

“You think he will throw that camera at me if I cover every one of his marks with mine?” He says, voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. You could feel the smirk on his lips, before the brush of his teeth against your lobe. “When this is all over, there will be no denying who you belong to, kitten.”

Cam’s gaze darkens. “That’s enough.” He says, voice quiet and tense.

You stepped back automatically, brushing your fingers along your ear. Ardent didn’t. Not right away. His eyes slide back to Cam, then back to you – deliberate.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

Cam’s jaw flexed once, twice, before he stepped back from the camera. He steps forward slipping himself between the two of you and Ardent – shielding you from view with a move that is both protective and possessive.

“We’re switching to solo shots,” his voice was sharper now like the words scraped against his throat on the way out. “Red first. You can go pick up the food delivery in the lobby.”

There was a pause.

Then Ardent laughed under his breath, “Fine.” He could see the discomfort in the redhead's gaze, the way his hand itched to reach for you. Cling to you, as if his touch alone could solely make you his.

Ardent stretched – slowly, deliberately – before sauntering towards the door. “Don’t start without me.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

The studio was once again silent.

Cam ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose before turning back to you. “Have a seat.” He said, his voice softer.

You sank into the chair – still faintly warm where Ardent had sat in it prior. You squirmed a little, it was impossible to get comfortable when you’re not even sure how to pose, but Cam didn’t say anything right away.

He chewed on his lips, fingers ghosting over the screen of his camera as if he was stalling.

“You good?” He asks, without looking at you. His tone hinted that he meant more than just the pose.

You nod quickly.

You’d seen Cam pose people before, as if he was envisioning exactly what he wanted he moved them almost methodically until everything was how he wished. Yet with you, he hesitated.

His cheeks began to warm under your gaze as he placed his hand at the base of your spine. “Straighten your back… and uhm,” He clears his throat.

“Let your legs fall open just a little,” He emphasized his words with a soft hand on your knee, just enough force to part them. “Don’t open them too much, just enough to catch a bit of light. Now,” His hand shakily touches your chin. “Chin down – good. Hands… here.”

He gently repositions your wrists, the pads of his fingers brushing against your skin, light but lingering. Focused. Too focused.

And then his touch faltered.

A low sound escaped his throat – halfway between a sigh and a curse.

“What?” You asked, trying to look down, but Cam’s hand came up to gently tilt your chin back toward him.

“N-nothing.” His mouth twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Just reminded me of something I’d rather not think about.”

He bent slightly, brushing his thumb along the inside of your thigh, a myriad of purple and blue marks just barely peeking beneath the edge of your shorts.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “That fucking guy.”

You didn’t have to ask who he meant.

He straightened, grabbing the concealer from the nearby table. “Hold still.”

His touch was clinical. Or it was supposed to be. But the pad of his finger that smoothed the makeup over your skin was slow. Intentional. Careful in a way that makes your skin hot.

“There,” he murmured. Almost like he wasn’t there at all,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes—like he wished it were true.

The door creaks open behind him, and he turns too late to mask the surprise that flickers across his face. Ardent stands in the doorway, food in hand, his gaze sharp, but there’s something else in his expression.

Something too... easy. Too sure of himself.

“Well, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I’m here to stay.” Ardent’s voice is low, and deliberate, as he steps further into the room, his eyes locking onto you briefly.

Cam scoffs, throwing up his hands with an annoyed huff. “Fuck that. Who said?”

Ardent doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even look at Cam. Instead, his eyes soften as he turns his attention to you, and that warmth in his gaze is undeniable, unmistakable. He’s not here to argue—he’s here to stake his claim.

Cam’s stomach churns at the sight of it. It gnaws at him, and he grinds his teeth, his jaw tightening. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters under his breath, a challenge hidden in the way his tone rises. His hand still resting on your thigh, tightens, fingers digging into your skin.

Ardent’s smirk widens, but it’s full of something dangerous now. “Yes, we fucking will.”