#escort!beca

[comic-book-jawns]

The Bro Code

PP3 Ending Rewrite, Getting Together, feat. surprise Bechloe shipper Chicago

“Dude!”

Chicago has been around plenty of strong women. His older sister is the reason he enlisted, after all. And Chloe’s bikini is certainly not leaving her toned physique to his imagination.

Still, he would feel like an asshole if he just stands by and watches one of the women he’s meant to be escorting walk across a beach with a giggling adult on her hip and a tote bag slung over her other shoulder.

“Uh, can I…”

“We’re good, thanks!”

Well, he can’t exactly argue with that. Beca is rigid, but clearly more in an attempt to not be a total dead weight than out of discomfort, and gripping Chloe’s shoulder for balance. He’s about to call it and bring up the rear when Beca suddenly glances back his way and taps Chloe’s posterior delt, bringing her friend to an immediate stop.

Chicago waits as Beca leans down toward Chloe’s ear, and the redhead nods before vaguely tilting her head in his direction.

“Could you grab her flip flops actually?!”

Read more @ ao3

[arxiel]

CRIMSOM THUNDER

Rolan x F!Tav

BACK --- NEXT

Chapter 10: Festival of the Hunt

Rating: Mature (Blood, angst and Lorroakan being a bitch)

Words Count: 3.552

AO3 LINK

CHAPTER INDEX

Or... read Bellow

It had been twenty days of absurd assigments absurd confrontations with customers and people bringing fake relics and especially twenty nights when Lorroakan would ask him nonsense questions to beat him and make him fell less each time. 

It had come to a point that he knew what to expect every night. 

Rolan sent letters to his brothers, lying to them about his apprenticeship to prevent them from condemning themselves to the dangers of Lorroakan. 

He accepted any job he was told to do without objection, from organizing those books that Lorroakan himself disorganized or bringing him ‘escorts’ from Sharess Caress. 

Despite being a competent wizard, he had a terrible temper, witnessing on several occasions that he would end the lives of those who wasted his time with the relic. 

If some presented a more elevated threat, he would call him to deal with it himself, while his master took a rest on his throne of books to admire the spectacle. 

Several times Rolan had been wounded considerably but his master appeared to enjoy it. 

He did not understand why his obsession with a relic that would come in time made him so delicate, and why he refused to let Rolan attend to his study of the weave. 

Like he was preventing something…

If Rolan was caught taking tomes to study, he would reprimand him more harshly than at other times. Electrocuting him repeatedly into unconsciousness. 

Over time, he learned to be quiet enough to sneak tomes without being noticed and study for as long as he could and return them. Likewise he had learnt such tricks like making his letters morph into origami birds to fly to the inn where his siblings were staying. 

Occasionally he took the opportunity of ‘assignment’ days to visit his brothers and those days at least he could forget how bad he was having it now. 

He'd entered into his own cage where he wouldn't know much about his family, and even less about Yvainne who hadn't heard from her since the shadow's cursed land. 

He missed her, but another part of himself felt a genuine shame of the fact that even though she was right he chose to ignore her. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The twenty-first day of Rolan's ‘apprenticeship’ had started badly when a cloud was raining down on him while he slept. 

Rolan barely dried himself and put his robes back on to leave the room. 

"It was time." Lorroakan dispelled his spell with a snap of his fingers. 

"Today you will do two tasks for me" Rolan concentrated to listen carefully to the requests that would be entrusted to him. 

"You will make the pentagram of the ritual once again if you do it well, consider yourself fortunate to do your second task." Rolan looked at him strangely, of all the assignments he had given, this was the first time he told him that it was a reward. 

Rolan flexed his fingers to take the special chalk to carefully draw the pentagram, considering every tiny detail, so that when they brought the real relic, the ritual will work. 

As he drew the pentagram perfectly he placed his two hands on it to give it of his magical power to make it work.

As he moved away from the pentagram a subtle blue glow emanated from it and faded slightly as Lorroakan approached. 

His master pulled a blue-tipped wand from behind his back, as he pointed it the pentagram glowed brightly. 

"It is perfect, now when the true relic arrives it will absorb everything and this will be complete." Lorroakan looked at the wand with great ambition. 

Lorroakan would throw at him an envelope with a letter inside. 

As he opened the contents to read it, there was an invitation to the festival of the hunt along with the coronation of Lord Gortash. 

Lorroakan had been invited because he was the master of the Ramazith tower and a very influential person. 

"I would go personally, but it would be better if my star apprentice went to witness a real festival, there was wine and gambling between the high houses and ‘company’ to be enjoyed." Rolan rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what Lorroakan want with that flatteries. 

"And Why doesn't Miklaur go." Lorroakan snorted in disbelief at Rolan's attempt at an excuse. 

"Miklaur doesn't have an attractive countenance to help persuade them to come to see me." Rolan sighed heavily before keeping the invitation. 

He should be sure to bring someone with him…  

Otherwise he would be severely punished again. 

But fortunately for him, "escorts" are special guests of sharess caress where their services are already available with gold.

Walking once more through the brightly city streets would bring him a slight peace of mind. 

He wouldn't have to tolerate his terrible Master and his abuses. 

He calmly admired all the decorations that were presented for the long-awaited event organised by that lord. 

Although he didn't trust him at all, it was something he didn't care about. 

Arriving at the event venue there was a waiting line, something that having the invitation from his master he could skip the lines for the entrance of the event. 

Those waiting in line would be whispering enviously. 

‘’How did a Tiefling get invited to an event like this?!" Rolan would tilt his head to show the invitation to the guard to be let in. 

"Welcome citizen, we can understand that your master has given his place to you, please enjoy the show, the betting area is open as well as the bar if you would like to enjoy the best wine of the sword coast" He nodded at the words of the Steel Watcher.

Rolan searched for the place that had been reserved to Lorroakan, being the new Archmage of Ramazith Tower they would give him a high place to see the area clearly as well as the spectators. 

The arena would fill up enthusiastically, leaving only a few empty seats, and it wouldn't be long before the event would start. 

"Interesting, anyone would judge your situation as luck, but, to be in this place at this precise moment in a very important event replacing your master, is considered as destiny itself." Rolan would turn his eyes to hear the voice of an elegantly dressed man with dark medium hair and slightly reddish skin. 

"I have seen you… at the inn in Reithwin, you played with that little girl. Mol…" The man smiled slightly. 

"Surprising you remembered it when you were deeply drunk…" His eyes moved to meet Rolan's eyes. 

"You are important noble of the city?" The man laughed lightly at Rolan's comment. 

"I am quite powerful, yes, but I only came to observe this event like everyone else here. - And mostly to see how a certain participant performs in this new situation…  As he finished his sentence, the opening chimes would sound. 

Gortash greeted the audience along with Duke Ravengard. 

Rolan bowed his gaze, remembering those words he had heard earlier. 

The Duke had been kidnapped and taken to Moonrise. He hadn't seen him rescued when the group of heroes defeated Ketheric Storm. 

And the flaming fists that had accompanied the survivors had mentioned that the duke had not been found and would call for help from… Lord Gortash. 

His whole blood chilled at the possibility that whoever was behind the whole absolutist affair was this lord. 

The Duke delivered a brief discourse on the absolutist terror that was haunting the city leaving Lord Gortash and his steel guard as the heroes and he will be crowned as the new Duke to protect the city. 

At the end of the short discourse the festival of the hunt would begin.

Sections of the floor would open up to raise small groups of people. Followed by bloodthirsty caged monsters. 

"Welcome our brave participants, some are veterans, some are newbies, but we have special guests who will also participate! - Once defeated they will be disqualified from the games, so… may the best person win." When Gortash finished his welcome to the participants the crowd would shout excitedly, some of them looked like mercenaries and adventurers but in the distance a glint reflected by the sun pointed at Rolan's eye. 

Instinctively he covered his eye with his hand to try to see. 

"Our star guest, I wonder if she can handle this…" The man would offer Rolan a pair of glasses with a high zoom to see nearer. 

As he took it to see who it was he opened his eyes in surprise, and his blood would chill and his heart would stop for a few seconds. 

It was Yvainne with Jaheira, they had some bruises and are completely unarmed. 

"Looks like now they will have to face each other to survive…" The man's unsettling laugh would keep him nervous. 

"This can't be happening…" It would run through his mind scared for their fate. 

The hunting festival is a dangerous event for the participants, they should try to defeat as many monsters as possible or the strongest ones to win. 

But it is also allowed to steal points from other players by defeating them in battle. 

It sounds simple for a group like them, if it weren't for the magic-suppressing bracelets they would have on their wrists. 

The games would begin with the release of the beasts and the arena changing to make it a maze. 

Yvainne and Jaheira split up in search of weapons to deal with the beasts.

Rolan brought his nails to his lips in nervousness as he saw a Displacer beast approaching, stalking them. 

Fortunately she would find a small knife with which she could defend herself. 

Jaheira reached her arms to calm the beast to give her a chance to escape. But an archer would arrive to kill the creature and try to shoot her as well. 

In a quick act Yvainne would throw the knife to hit it in the arm where it would hold the bow to take it from him. 

They would both rush forward with their weapons. 

Yvainne gave Jaheira a signal to crouch in the shadows to move slowly and surely to avoid the players' traps. 

"And the little mouse runs from the jaws of the predators, to attack from the cunning darkness"

The stage would shift to give a new arena to the participants separating Yvainne and Jaheira entirely. 

The worg would charge at Yvainne from the front, she tried to parry the bites with her bow. But the beast would be even stronger. 

Rolan clenched his jaw. Then his tail would begin to wag from helplessness. 

But in an unexpected act she pulled the hairpin out of her hair to bury it in the creature's eye, causing the creature to separate. 

Yvainne continued to stab at the creature's eye until it stopped moving. 

The man slowly clapped his hands at the spectacle with a devilish smile on his face. 

At Yvainne's inattention another of the displacer beast lunged at her, clawing at her arm and shattering part of the leather armour.  

Rolan accidentally hit the wall with his tail as he saw Yvainne fall to the ground helpless to another attack. 

But before the beast could strike again Jaheira would decapitate the creature with a scimitar. Rolan would sigh heavily. 

From her arm apart from the blood gushing out would be tattoos that he had seen before, one of the signs was on the notes his master had on the desk. 

Yvainne looked around in terror as she pressed down on her wound. 

Jaheira ripped some of her clothing to make a tourniquet to prevent excess blood and to cover some of the tattoos. 

Yvainne looked at her arm before looking at the hairpin in her hand. And she would use the hairpin to open the magic-suppressing bracelet as if it were a lock pick. 

"And the clever little mouse will use his wits for survival along with the little bird. I am amazed at how clever mortals can be, though they are running out of time…" The man would lean back against the wall at those words, Rolan would watch the approach of a burly, bald man along with… 

Another Jaheira? 

Rolan would look carefully at the man who looked familiar. 

The legendary Minsc the mad Rasheemaar?! 

Yvainne and Jaheira looked at the man who seemed confused and annoyed to see another identical companion. 

Both women crossed their gazes to nod and prepare for the disadvantageous attack between the fake Jaheira, Minsc and two other people who would try to surround them. 

Yvainne has no arrows with her bow and is armed only with the hairpin gifted by the Tiefling while the real Jaheira has only a scimitar. 

They need magic to survive. 

Rolan opened his eyes at the thought that would cross his mind. 

He would look around to avoid being surprised at what he was trying to do, and he closed his eyes trying to concentrate his magic. 

“Pulso” 

He would mutter the spell while pointing his fingers at her. 

The magic suppression bracelet would fall from her wrist. 

Yvainne in confusion would look down at the floor where the bracelet was and then look around, she knew she hadn't managed to open her bracelet in time. Although it looked like the audience had swallowed it. 

Her gaze quickly searched through the crowd, until her eyes focused on where he was standing. 

It was hard for her to know who it was that cast the spell, but Rolan's heart would skip a beat as her gaze lingered on him. 

She gave a big smile before quickly casting the same spell to remove Jaheira's bracelet. 

It wasn't against the rules to remove the bracelet. 

The audience cheered in excitement as they both broke free of the magic suppressors. 

Jaheira transformed into a Owlbear to throw the opponents and Yvainne caused an ice storm to knock down the opponents around them. 

The crowds cheered enthusiastically, seeming so immersed in the spectacle that they ignored certain flaws. 

The opponents around them and the fake Jaheira would transform into what they really are. 

Dopplegangers. 

The audience would begin to look at each other in terror. 

Looking towards Gortash he would look furious trying to stop the games from continuing. 

It seems that dopplegangers are not contemplated as participants. 

Yvainne would extend his hands and part of the tattoos on his arm would emerge bright red to summon a circle of fire to incinerate the creatures leaving Minsc alone against Jaheira and her. 

Both women lunged at the mad Rasheemar who nimbly grabbed Yvainne's arm to pull her out of the circle causing her to crash backwards into the wall. And also breaking her arm. 

The crowd let out a gasp at the blow.

Rolan felt his blood freeze at the scene. Yvainne cringed from the staggering pain in her arm breaking her concentration on the circle of fire, Jaheira turned to either side worried about the Rahsheemar and Yvainne's pain. 

More Dopplegangers emerged from the crowd and rushed into the arena. The audience would begin to scream in panic causing them to rush towards the exit of the coliseum to flee. 

Gortash waved for the steel guards to jump into the arena to take down the dopplegangers. 

"And so begins the chaos with an alliance broken by its own self-interest. And that is the breach that the little mouse will have to exploit if she wants to save the city. - I entrust you to get her out of that hole alive." Rolan turned to look at the man who only smiled grimly and then snapped his fingers to vanish. 

As he quickly turned his gaze to Yvainne he would see that her arm adjusted and a faint blue light would emerge from her hand to regenerate with hunter's healing magic. 

A momentary resource. 

Yvainne sighed to get up to run with difficulty to grab one of the fake participant's weapons to hit the big man in the head to knock him out. Minsc would be knocked unconscious before long and the steel guards would begin to surround them. 

But a blinding explosion flooded the arena. Whatever it was, it stunned the steel guard and the three would be gone. 

Rolan sighed heavily relieved that they escaped, it wouldn't be long before he would find a way to get out of the place without encountering a crowd frightened by what had happened.

What he hadn't noticed was the small owl made of magic that had been keeping watch over Rolan's every action during the entire event. 

He walked through the streets processing everything that had happened at the festival.  

Arriving at Sunderous Sundries he found the shop crowded with people who wanted magical protection at all costs, but his co-workers seemed to handle it well, as did one of Lorroakan's projections. 

He quickly made his way up to the portal of the Ramazith tower. 

Only to find his master watching the city decorated by the intense golden rays of the sunset. 

"You're early, boy, and the favour I asked for?" Rolan tightened his arm, he had completely forgotten that he should be fetching a escort for his master. 

He turned to see his terrified face. 

"You're lucky there's no one of my interest except one person." Lorroakan's voice would drop to a tone with soft desire.

"That young woman with the long, fluffy hair…. Is she of your interest?" He felt his world shakes at Lorroakan's question, he could swear that no one was watching him. He could feel his heart fluttering like a frightened rabbit. 

"Excuse me, master, I…" He would approach Rolan with a threatening step.

"A truly beautiful woman. - I find it curious that my own apprentice would have such an interest as you used magic to help her. Am I wrong?" Rolan swallowed hard.  

Lorroakan grabbed one of his horns to direct it towards the broken part of the balcony, threatening to throw him to his death. 

For the first time Rolan would hold on tightly to the break in the balcony feeling a genuine terror for his life. 

"Y-yes, yes master Lorroakan" His cruel master laughed lightly at the desperate response to save his own life. 

He pulled Rolan's horn to force him into the room to take his staff to beat him, again and again, reaching a point where the vile wizard felt pain in his hands as a sign of growing calluses. 

"I always get what I want. You are nothing more than a disgusting Tiefling with an air of greatness, keep that in mind every time you are looked upon with the same contempt you are today." Lorrakan would carefully wipe the staff with a cloth. 

Rolan panted from the pain. He was dizzy from the beating and his ears were ringing, but he barely heard his cruel words.

"So if you see her again, please kindly take her with you in the tower so she could see the power of a true Archmage, she might be even more impressed."

"I wonder if he will have the same fierceness in bed…" His words would make his soul feel an unbelievable anger. He wanted to carbonize him right there. 

He wanted to strangle him. 

He wanted to kill him himself. 

"I know you won't disappoint me bringing her here. I don't think you're stupid enough to let yourself be beaten again." Lorroakan had left the room to go to his ostentatious bedroom to rest. 

Rolan with difficulty would try to get up, processing all the hatred he felt deep inside him accompanied by fear and regret. 

He must have brought someone from Sharess Caress to attend to his master's needs, so he wouldn't have taken such a sick interest in Yvainne.  

He found it strange that he didn't recognise his own student, but it didn't matter. All that mattered to him now was protecting her, she might outmatch him in magic or agility, but he would do whatever it took to keep her out of harm's way, especially from Lorroakan. 

He knew that his master had gained ways to become stronger in the magic, even if Yvainne fought him she would not be able to with those myrmidons on his sleeve. 

She could die in the attempt as well as he for trying to help her. 

It would be best if she avoided entering Sorcerous Sundries at all. It was the best way for him to protect her. 

If it meant never seeing her again, it was worth it as long as she was safe.  

Rolan leaned against the wall, still physically dazed after the hits. A faint smile would come to his face as he remembered how she turned to look at him with gratitude. 

To see that smile one last time would have encouraged him to endure a little more of the abuse. 

He wished he had heard her voice at the last time. 

And maybe just maybe, sinking into her neck to feel her soft scent telling him how much he regrets not having believed the woman he feels…

Love…

He loves her.

She had bewitched his body and soul.

And now he never wished to be parted from her.

Although that will be very difficult under the current circumstances.

BACK --- NEXT

[evita-shelby]

The best forgotten birthday

For @justrainandcoffee and their wonderful oc, Rose Coldwell-Solomons 🖤🖤

Cw: drinking

“What do you mean nothing?” Rose had asked when the reading didn’t show what she wanted to know.

“No gift, no party, not even a whiff of it in the readings.” The witch shuffled her cards once more and this time put them back inside their case. “Tommy’s busy tomorrow evening, has a business meeting in town, do you want to do something fun?”

If Alfie has the audacity to forget his wife’s birthday, Eva will make damn sure Rose Coldwell-Solomons has the best night ever at his expense.

She knows her fairly well and Eva knows partying like she knows the cards. This was going to be fun.

“Beats doing nothing at home.” The Queen of Camden town pouts at the disappointment from having her loving husband forget her birthday.

It was very unlike Solomons, as strange as if Tommy would forget hers.

Rose comes dressed to the nines and does not know why the chauffer balks at the idea of Mrs. Shelby driving herself anywhere and asks that she drive instead. So what if Eva crashed a few vehicles?

It is fun, even as they try to keep things proper and pretend Eva’s not feeling the hurt Rose feels thanks to her lack of inhibition at the moment.

“You know what I haven’t done in some time?” Rose begins to open up after they leave one of Tommy’s clubs where no one knows her.

The witch knows what she means, the last time Eva did that she ended up fucking Tommy after trashing his hotel room instead of telling him the Italians were coming after them. Its been so long since she’s gotten drunk without impending doom.

“Did you know some tequilas are kosher?” the witch motions of the waitress to bring that very special tequila Tommy always makes sure they have in stock.

Tommy has been told that his witch has gone out with Alfie’s wife and even worse, implied to have been driving the two of them.

Rose is a good driver; he knows that because in the outings she and Eva have, she is always driving.

Eva is a shit driver.

She is great at everything else, but God had not graced her with the ability to drive.

Tommy is very relieved to know that the officer calling him about her isn’t saying they are calling because she crashed. Frankly, the gangster turned politician preferred her to be in jail for the night than know she was behind a wheel.

Eva’s permitted to speak to him and in her drunken stupor, she giggles and laughs and flirts with him in ways she would be caught dead doing it sober. If the officer had not stopped her, the witch would’ve tried to fuck him through the telephone as they always do when either of them are away.

“Nice to know Mrs. Shelby still has her fire.” Solomons has a shit eating grin when he arrives at the station to bail out his wife.

“I never forget her birthdays.” Tommy replied dryly and tried not to lose his patience with the man.

“I didn’t fucking forget! Had a surprise for her, that’s all.” Alfie sighs dramatically in his own defense and lays the blame on someone else. “I thought your old ball and chain knew everything? It’s her fault my Rosie thinks I forgot her birthday!”

“Eva is not infallible.” Tommy stresses her name to show his dislike of the words he used. “There are things that even the universe cannot tell her or won’t for shits and giggles.”

“Like getting my wife drunk out of her mind on her birthday and calling me a prick for forgetting it.” Solomons pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve the headache Eva had caused.

Shelby would be lying if he wasn’t proud of his wife’s antics tonight. Causing Solomons some discomfort was always fine with him.

Its not long until the Policewoman comes escorting their unusually drunk wives out of a cell. They are chatting and laughing loudly with the other women held up as if they were friends, someone even goes as far as wishing Alfie a good kick in the nuts for it.

Even if Eva is suggesting they try swinging or a foursome and Rose in hysterics because her husband had a surprise for her the entire time, the women had their fun which is all that matters at the end of night.

[143bc]

Incorrect BeChloe quotes

(Beca comes home to a horny and furious Chloe)

Beca - what?

Chloe - really?! That’s the response you want to go with?!

Beca - you asked me to send you a pic of me pleasuring myself…

Chloe - and you feel the best response is to send me a pic of you eating Taco Bell?!?!

Beca - I’m sorry…?

Chloe - you will be!

(Chloe grasps Beca’s wrist, the brunette’s feet barely scraping the ground as she’s ‘escorted’ to the bedroom)

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (741): Thu 28th Mar 2024

I also realised that ten years ago today I left HMRC. At the time of my departure I would have called this my worst job ever but prior to this role I had only had one other job, working at the Glass Centre which was awesome so bestowing the distinction of "worst job ever on it" wasn't exactly harsh since it had to be the worst job by default. However I'm now at the stage where I've had six proper jobs (one temp job and one that I can't really call a job beca use I only worked there for ten days and fucked off without collecting my paycheck because it was so awful) so I can now start to rank all of them from best to worst. I don't think I would class HMRC as my worst job ever anymore because although it ended badly mainly due to them putting me on a stage two sickness warning even though the time between my two instances of sick leave was over a year, it did at least start out well when it was exclusively a data entry role. I think the dubious honor of my worst job ever would definitely be between Aldi and TSB now. Aldi was fucking awful mainly due to the stupid rules the enforced namely that I had to be clean shaven all the time and that they try to sabotage their shelf stacker employees by taking things off / adding things to the pallets they need to empty by the end of the shift and then quiz them to see if they spotted them all like a game from the fucking Krypton Factor. TSB on the other hand was especially painful because unlike HMRC which had a script for their employees to follow when talking to customers, TSB had no such thing they just gave you a four week crash course and then told you that you needed to remember the whole thing and not make any mistakes because three mistakes in the space of a month could lead to dismissal. Also they fucked me over by telling me that any overtime you did past five hours meant you would get paid double so naturally I worked overtime every day for the month of February and then on pay day was told that the double time thing wasn't true and I was just paid my normal wages. As bad as TSB was it was a blessing in disguise because it made me realise that I can not do jobs where I have to interact with customers and as such I've now landed a warehouse job where I'm mostly left alone. I suppose this means I should have a fraction of gratitude to TSB and this should edge Aldi just ahead of it in terms of worst jobs but it's still like trying to decide between diving into a swimming pool filled with horse piss or donkey piss. I can still remember the day I left HMRC like it was yesterday. Tragically I can't remember what my final call was about because I finished it at around ten minutes before the end of my shift and my manager just told me to turn off my computer and sit out the final ten minutes (presumably so I didn't abuse my final customer which I totally would have). I shook hands with all my team mates and after handing in my badge my manager escorted me out of the building and I made my way up the hill listening to The Prisoner by Iron Maiden and I was in such a good mood that I stopped off at the toy store to buy Lacey a new Toy Story racing car. I was so happy to be free of that place and optimistic for what the future would hold. I wonder if I could travel back in time to that date and tell past me what the future held would he be put off? If I told him he would end up on the dole for a year and a half before working a temp job for a campaign to get children off fatty food, then working a job in a supermarket that started at five AM and wouldn't let me have a beard before a six month stretch in another call centre would his spirits be as high as he walked up that hill? I suspect if I also told him that he would re-enter the catering industry for a great job in a cafe that would last five years and would allow him enough free time to go see all his favourite bands then he probably wouldn't regret his decision to leave.

[lets-talk-appella]

It’s Legal in Munich

Ch 4/4

Summary: Lonely in Munich, Germany, Chloe hires an escort to pass the night. AU. Originally for Bechloe Week 2019: 20 Questions.

Words: 5k

Rating: T

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

AO3 and FFN

Chloe really should have seen this coming.

She’s definitely the kind of person to whom this would happen.

Still, here she is, packing her suitcase for the next chapter in her travel adventure and finding herself completely blindsided by how hard it is to move on from Beca.

Which is ridiculous. They aren’t together. They’d talked about how not-together they are. It should be a non-issue because they’re so not-together. It should be that simple. Chloe should be able to throw a wave and a smile over her shoulder at Beca and board her plane without ever looking back.

And yet.

It’s her own fault, really. It’s so easy to be around Beca. It feels natural, as if they were meant to have met. They’re so different from one another, but somehow they’re on the same wavelength. It has to be the music. That’s it. Beca lives and breathes music. She’s also kind, honest, and totally adorable. Even though she’d probably glare at Chloe if the word “adorable” was so much as whispered in her presence.

Chloe should have known better.

She’s not stupid. She knows her feelings won’t change a thing. She’s still getting on a plane tomorrow and leaving.

Beca isn’t going with her. Beca is staying in Munich, along with a much larger piece of Chloe’s heart than she would really like to admit.

Chloe folds her last blouse carefully, placing it neatly into the suitcase she’s packed and repacked and rearranged no fewer than four times so far. She’ll probably redo the whole thing at least once again before she actually leaves for the airport tomorrow.

She’s pretty much ready to go. She’s checked into her flight on their mobile app. She’s seen the big tourist draws in Munich, along with more of the local haunts—all thanks to Beca, of course. She’s got her S-Bahn ticket to the Munich airport. She’s memorized the route from her destination airport in Krakow, Poland to her hotel. Her suitcase is packed, and she’s left an outfit out for tomorrow.

Chloe stares at her suitcase, eyes traveling over its contents without really seeing any of it.

It doesn’t seem like Beca’s having all that hard of a time moving on. If she’s honest with herself, Chloe knows she should have seen this coming, too. Hadn’t Beca told her, after all, that what she does is run? Beca had always been honest with her about what was going to happen at the end of Chloe’s time in Munich. Beca had avoided labeling them, mostly for that reason.

Chloe hasn’t really heard from Beca in a while. Well, two days. Not since their electric scooter date. Which wasn’t a date, exactly, but was more of a… well, it was basically a date. She knows Beca is okay; they have been sending brief texts back and forth, but nothing of any substance. It makes sense. Chloe’s leaving tomorrow, so Beca is protecting herself. Chloe doesn’t fault her for it.

They’d agreed to meet up one more time for dinner at the same bierhaus Beca had taken her to earlier. A sort of farewell dinner that Chloe already knows is going to be, as everything with Beca always has been, fun and exciting and bittersweet and painful. Chloe takes a deep breath.

Maybe it would be better for her to cancel and save them the trouble. She can already picture the way Beca’s going to spend the dinner rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck, her eyes darting around the room. She knows it isn’t that Beca is uncomfortable, but rather that Beca can’t stand goodbyes.

More than once, Chloe has caught Beca watching her, a strange expression on her face. Chloe never called her on it, though. She knows Beca’s struggling with this whole thing just as much as she is.

That’s the worst thing about this. Chloe knows perfectly well that Beca feels the same way about her. She can lie to herself all day, pretending that Beca doesn’t care, but it’s simply not true. Beca cares so much more than she feels comfortable with revealing.

A knock on the door startles Chloe, causing her to emit an involuntary little squeak of surprise. She looks at the closed door, already knowing who is standing in the hallway beyond it. She draws her lower lip into her mouth; it’s too late to cancel their evening after all.

She moves mechanically toward the door, her stomach fluttering with the same nerves she’d felt upon first meeting Beca. As she did then, too, she has to pause for a moment with her hand resting on the handle. She takes a deep breath. Another. Then opens the door, fighting a strong sense of Deja-vu.

The little smile-smirk that Beca gives her, though, is different from the one she’d given when they’d first met. This one is softer, more open, and is accompanied by a little, “Hey.” Beca, no matter how unwittingly and unwillingly, has become familiar. Her presence wraps Chloe in complete comfort.

Any thought that Chloe had had of cancelling their evening flies out the window at top speed and tips headlong over the balcony to shatter into fragments on the concrete below.

“Hi,” Chloe replies, her eyes drawn for the first time to the food containers Beca holds in her hands. “Is that...”

Beca glances down at the containers in her hands. “Oh, yeah. From the same bierhaus restaurant we went to before. It’s kind of raining, so I thought, you know, instead of going out, maybe we should just stay in?”

Chloe hadn’t even noticed the rain; as soon as Beca points it out, though, she can hear it gently pattering on the roof above. “Sure,” she agrees easily. “But don’t you think it’s more romantic to kiss in the rain?” She has no idea what makes her say those words, but they escape from her lips before she can even try to stop them.

Color rises in Beca’s cheeks unexpectedly and she glances downward with a small huff.

Her embarrassment surprises Chloe, and she tries to backtrack. “Um, I didn’t—”

“You have a balcony, don’t you?” Beca interrupts, arching an eyebrow as her color returns to normal. “We can always kiss on that.”

This time, it’s Chloe who finds herself tongue-tied. Before she can come up with any kind of counter, Beca continues.

“Unless you were hoping for one more stroll through Munich?” she offers. “Which would be fair.”

“Tempting,” Chloe muses, regaining her voice, “but a night in sounds really nice, too.”

Even as she finishes her sentence, she kicks herself mentally. Spending any more time alone with Beca is only going to make leaving her so much worse.

“Great,” Beca grins, her smile widening and eyes sparkling with amusement. “Are you gonna start by inviting me in?”

Chloe laughs quietly and rolls her eyes at the old joke. “Are you a vampire or something?” she asks playfully as she steps aside, gesturing Beca into the room. “Always having to be invited in.”

Beca steps inside, shrugging off her jacket in a move that really shouldn’t be sexy but totally is. “Nah, but how cool would it be if I could turn into a bat?”

“I’d rather not get rabies,” Chloe teases as she closes the door and locks it.

Beca’s smile changes into a smirk and she fires back, “I only bite if I’m asked to.”

It startles a laugh out of Chloe, full and free, and she knows Beca won that round. “Speaking of,” she begins, leading Beca to the balcony, “did you have a client last night? I was kind of surprised you were even free tonight.”

It’s Saturday, and typically, Beca’s time would be booked.

Beca’s expression shifts minutely, a flicker so quick that Chloe can’t be sure she hadn’t imagined it. “Nah. I haven’t really had clients the past few days.”

“Slow time?”

Beca shrugs. “I guess. What have you been up to?”

Chloe flicks open the latch on the room’s patio door and helps Beca carry the food out to the covered balcony, where they can eat on the little table and will be sheltered from the rain. Out here, the smell and sound of the rain ensnares Chloe, heightening her senses. “Mostly packing, honestly,” she answers. “Some walking around. And figuring out where I want to go after Krakow.”

“Poland?” Beca asks, sounding surprised as she settles into one of the chairs and divides the stack of containers between them. “What’re you going to do there? I’ve never been.”

“I guess there’s a lot to do in the main city square. Lots of good food, lots of history. It looks beautiful online.”

Beca smiles faintly, her eyes not quite meeting Chloe’s. “You’ll have to send me pictures.”

“Y—yeah,” Chloe breathes, the weight of her departure suddenly weighing heavy on her lungs. Desperate to change the subject and avoid the sad awkwardness she’d been dreading, she asks, “What did you bring to eat?”

“Oh, uh,” Beca starts, opening the containers and naming each dish as it’s exposed. She’d brought what seems to be samples of German essentials; schnitzel, spaetzle, white asparagus with hollandaise, various meats and cheese, and a huge pretzel. “And there’s always…” Beca trails off, lifting the lid off a final container to reveal two slices of chocolate cake. “I got the order right this time,” she grins at Chloe.

Chloe smiles back, surveying the food. “This is really nice, Bec, thank you.”

“Anytime,” Beca replies, looking out over the balcony railing to survey the sprawl of rainy Munich. Her posture is just a little too rigid, her tone a smidge clipped.

Chloe instantly knows there’s something Beca’s holding back. Her first impulse is to start questioning, but she catches herself. She knows Beca well enough by this point to understand that Beca will open up when she’s ready. So, to pass the time, Chloe starts on the meal, trying to savor every bite. She doesn’t know when she’ll be in Germany again, and she wants to memorize its flavors.

Beca eventually tears her gaze away from the rain-soaked city to instead focus on their meal. It’s several minutes before either of them breaks the silence, though Chloe’s fairly certain she can hear the whirring of Beca’s mind.

“So, uh, actually…” Beca breaks the quiet first, clearing her throat and looking almost nervous.

Chloe swallows her most recent bite of food and rests her fork against the edge of her plate, waiting patiently for Beca to say what she needs to say.

“Sorry I haven’t really been around much the last few days,” Beca says slowly. She presses her lips together and runs her tongue over her teeth before continuing, every word spoken almost cautiously. “I’ve been kind of... arranging things.”

“Things?” Chloe asks, surprised. The script is, as is always the case with Beca, not what she had expected.

“Yeah. Um, the day we did the scooter... thing,” Beca reminds her, waving a hand in the air aimlessly, “I got an email from my old boss in LA. The music production studio?” the pitch of her voice raises, making it sound like a question.

Chloe’s heart speeds up and she nods uncertainly, her stomach fluttering with a mixture of anticipation and nerves.

“Yeah,” Beca says again, “so I guess my boss kind of—on a whim—shared some of my old demos with a few different production studios, and this place in New York got back to him. They’re interested. In what I can do,” she adds, an afterthought.

Chloe’s jaw drops. She knows she must look ridiculous; Beca starts to smirk at her, but Chloe recovers quickly enough to speak first. “Beca! That’s amazing! You—congratulations!”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Beca says, blinking a little.

“No, really, that’s—what’s it called, the place in New York?”

Beca screws up her nose in thought. “BFD? I’d never heard of them, but I guess it’s an up and coming company.”

“That could be an amazing opportunity,” Chloe hedges, craving more details.

“Yeah, I… yeah.”

“Beca.”

“Hmm?”

“Did you give them an answer?” Chloe actually thinks she might explode if Beca doesn’t start giving details.

“Oh. Well, it doesn’t really work like that. Like, I have to interview and stuff,” Beca clarifies, looking more awkward by the second.

Chloe forces herself to calm down and count to five before asking her next in a series of questions; as excited as she is for Beca, she doesn’t want to force her into doing anything she doesn’t truly want to do.

“Do you want to interview?” she eventually asks, taking a bite of asparagus to seem nonchalant.

Beca hesitates, then gives a single jerky nod. “Yeah, it—it’s terrifying,” she huffs with a little smile, “but I said yes. To an interview. Terrifying and exciting,” she adds, another afterthought.

“It definitely is both terrifying and exciting, for sure,” Chloe agrees. “Though I’d have said you were crazy if you hadn’t agreed.”

“It feels a little crazy to interview anyway,” Beca shrugs, now reaching for her slice of cake. “It’s been so long.”

“Maybe. But they’re going to love you. How could they not?” Chloe asks before she can stop herself. Her face warms and she tries to hide it by taking another bite of her food. “So, uh, is it over Skype or phone or…”

“No, they want to show me around in person,” Beca mumbles through her mouthful of dessert. “I have to go over there.”

“That’s a good sign! When?”

“I fly out tomorrow.”

The words land between them, flopping unexpectedly onto the table. For a moment, Chloe simply looks at Beca and Beca simply looks at Chloe.

“Tomorrow…” Chloe trails off. Tomorrow is turning out to be a big day.

Beca nods maybe over-enthusiastically. “I checked, and our flights are actually pretty close together. We could—we could go to the airport together, if you want.”

Chloe doesn’t want to go to the airport together at all, because every additional minute she spends with Beca, it becomes that much harder to be able to leave. At the same time, it would also mean prolonging the time they have together.

“That would be awes,” she says, now starting on her own slice of cake.

“Cool,” Beca sighs happily, sitting back in her chair. “And, uh, also, I quit my job as an escort.”

“You did?” Chloe asks, surprise rippling through her.

“Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t going to, because if this whole interview thing doesn’t work out… well, I still need a job,” Beca says practically. “But I was thinking about it, and I decided that even if it doesn’t work out, maybe it’s time for me to try to, you know, figure things out.”

Chloe knows she’s smiling like an idiot, but she can’t help it. “Bec, that’s… I’m so proud of you! That takes a lot.”

Beca smiles at her happily. “You inspired me, I guess.”

And Chloe doesn’t really know what to say to that—her heart is beating too loudly for her to really think of anything—so she settles for a wink and another bite of cake. Beca’s eyes don’t leave her as she eats, searching her expression until it starts to make Chloe self-conscious.

“Do I have something on my face again?” she asks, mostly teasing.

Beca blinks and seems to shake herself. “Oh, no, just… what about you?”

“Hmm? What about me.”

“You know,” Beca lifts one shoulder. “With the vet stuff. With Aubrey. With singing and all that.”

“Oh.” Chloe again pauses, resting her fork on the table. “That.”

Beca grins crookedly at her but doesn’t say anything. She pushes away her now-empty cake container.

“I… don’t know,” Chloe says slowly. “I’ve been thinking and… I don’t know.”

Beca shrugs. “You don’t have to know right now,” she says softly.

“Yeah, I…” Chloe sighs. “I know that I can’t stay here forever. But… vet school has always been the plan, but I don’t know… what if I don’t get accepted anywhere?”

The question seems to catch them both by surprise; Chloe hadn’t realized that such a prospect frightened her so much, and Beca stares at her for a moment, blinking slowly.

Beca recovers first. “You’ll get in,” she says, eyes wide. “You’re really smart. And, you know, on the off chance if not, there are other options.”

“I suppose.”

Beca watches her, expression turning calculating. “I could see you as a music teacher.”

“Yeah?” Chloe asks, surprised again.

“Definitely.”

“I have thought about that before, actually.”

Beca lifts a hand to her chin, narrowing her eyes in thought. “It would suit you, I think.”

Chloe snorts at her ridiculous expression. “I would want to do elementary school, probably. Because—”

“Because you could teach them to love music,” Beca guesses. It’s not a question.

Chloe stares at her. Is it really possible that Beca already knows her that well? “I… yeah, exactly. You just… exactly.”

“I like that. You’d be great at that, too.”

Chloe toys with her napkin, the harder part of Beca’s question bouncing around her head now. “I think I should call Aubrey,” she eventually says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Just to see,” Chloe shrugs, a finger tracing absently over the details in the grain of the wooden table. “I miss her.”

“I hope it works out between you two.”

“Me too.”

They both fall quiet, the gentle rain the only sound breaking the silence. Chloe shifts in her chair, a weird mood settling over her and pressing on her lungs. She finds herself thinking that if she and Beca had met sooner—maybe while they’d both been at Barden—they each could have figured out their lives that much sooner.

Maybe sensing Chloe’s shift in mood, Beca clears her throat. “So, do you want to watch a movie or anything?”

“A movie would be good,” Chloe replies gratefully, her wishful thinking scattering to the wind as she and Beca rise simultaneously from their chairs to clear the table.

It doesn’t take long to gather the empty food containers and utensils. With another look over the balcony at the darkening Munich horizon, Chloe follows Beca back inside the room and slides the patio door closed. They place the food containers on the room’s service cart and, without further ado, Chloe climbs onto her king-sized bed, props a pillow against the headboard, and leans back against it.

Still standing at the foot of the bed, Beca hesitates, her eyes flicking in the direction of the armchair as if she isn’t sure if she should join Chloe. Refraining from rolling her eyes in amusement, Chloe pats the space next to her on the bed pointedly.

“Right,” Beca mutters before joining Chloe on the bed. The mattress dips and moves as she crawls on her hands and knees to get to the head of the bed, and for some reason, the sight makes Chloe’s stomach flutter. Reaching her, Beca also props a pillow against the headboard, glancing up at the bottom of the storage cabinets above their heads.

“Comfy?” Chloe asks.

“Yep,” Beca says happily, settling back against her pillow. “Uh, I guess now we find the movie channel?”

“Thought you didn’t like movies,” Chloe remembers, reaching for the remote. “You sure about this?”

“Just don’t pick a boring movie,” Beca teases.

“I’ll do my best.”

She clicks the remote to turn on the TV, not sure what to expect. The first channel seems to be a news broadcast, given in German. She frowns and clicks the remote, scrolling through channel after channel, hoping for something watchable. Except...

Beca laughs as Chloe circles back all the way to the original news broadcast. “It’s in German. All of it.”

Chloe huffs. “I know we’re in Munich, but every channel is in German? Really?”

Beca bumps their shoulders together playfully. “It’s all good. Or I should say gut.”

“Okay, let’s just…” Chloe trails off, scrolling back a couple of channels until she goes back to what could be a German soap opera. She gestures to the TV, an actor’s dramatically brooding face filling the screen. “What do you think he’s saying?”

“Hmm,” Beca muses, staring at the screen for a moment. The actor mumbles something in rapid German, his face twisting. “I think he said, ‘I had a bad chalupa for lunch and now I regret it.’”

Chloe lets out a snort.

“All right, let’s see you do any better, nerd,” Beca goads her.

The soap opera cuts to an actress, tearful and heavily pregnant. She stares beseechingly at the handsome actor, asking him something in a quavering voice.

“Okay, so,” Chloe gets ready to translate, “she said, ‘This is what happens when you swallow watermelon seeds.’”

Beca’s lips twitch as she stares at the TV. “Interesting, interesting. I could see that.”

“I’m so good at German.”

“Definitely,” Beca says, looking over at Chloe, locking eyes.

Chloe’s breath catches in her throat; she hadn’t expected Beca’s face to be quite so close to hers.

The world around them fades away until Beca consumes Chloe’s every sense. She’s very aware of Beca, of every quiet breath she takes, of the blue of her eyes. She’s most aware of Beca’s proximity to her, the space of only a few inches separating them.

Beca’s eyes flick down to her lips. “What happens now?” she breathes.

“I don’t know,” Chloe whispers.

Beca lifts a shoulder. “Maybe it’s time for both of us to go home.”

A dull pain races through Chloe’s chest at the thought. “I… I don’t want to go home without you.”

Beca’s eyes close and she takes a deep breath. “Chloe, we can’t… tomorrow, we’re both—”

“I know.”

Beca’s eyes open again. “Okay,” she sighs, but then a corner of her mouth quirks up. “You want to play twenty questions?”

Chloe nods, her breath catching in her throat. Allowing her own eyes to drop to Beca’s lips, she asks, “Can I kiss you?”

It’s Chloe’s question, but it’s Beca who moves first. A hand rises to cup Chloe’s cheek gently at the same time Beca’s lips meet hers. She starts slow and soft, all gentle pressure that only builds when Chloe sighs into it, parting her lips.

Beca’s lips, soft and slightly chapped, meet hers again and again, each time at a new, more perfect angle. The hand on Chloe’s cheek slides around to the back of her neck, as if Beca instinctively knows the angle of the kiss is harsh.

Chloe’s own hands move, one bracing herself up on the mattress and the other resting on Beca’s hip. Under her touch, Beca is warm and solid. Their breath mingles, and Chloe is able to taste the hint of chocolate on Beca’s. Chloe’s lower lip is snared gently between Beca’s teeth; it pulls a soft whimper from within her chest and Beca smiles into the kiss, pressing closer.

Chloe has never been kissed like this before, so slow and thorough. She’s had her share of good and great kisses. Every kiss with Beca prior to this had been nothing less than amazing. But this is different. Chloe had always believed her body belongs to her, and to her alone. Right now, though… yours, she thinks as Beca deepens the kiss. I’m yours.

The curl of Beca’s tongue around her own makes Chloe’s fingers curl into the denim at Beca’s hip. She pulls, guides, until she’s lying on the bed with Beca half on top of her.

“Chloe,” Beca breathes, pulling back slightly, and for a second, Chloe’s terrified she’s about to stop. But then Beca’s mouth descends along her jaw, until Chloe has to tilt her head to expose more of her neck to Beca’s lips. Her fingers wind themselves into Beca’s tresses, and when Beca pauses at her pulse point, Chloe knows she must be able to feel how quickly her heart is pounding.

At the first touch of Beca’s tongue on her skin, Chloe gasps and arches. Again, Beca pauses, only to pull Chloe’s skin into her mouth more firmly, marking her. Chloe chokes on air, desire welling inside her and building low in her gut, and her hands drop to Beca’s backside, pulling her hips forward.

This time, it’s Beca who gasps, a broken breath leaving her and dissipating over Chloe’s overheated skin. “I…”

Drawing her lip between her teeth, hoping above all she isn’t reading things wrong, Chloe takes her hands from Beca’s ass to instead reach between them, unbuttoning Beca’s top. Beca goes still above her but doesn’t say anything. Her breathing becomes rapid puffs as Chloe undoes the last button and the shirt falls open.

Chloe just looks for a moment, stares at Beca’s chest in her simple black bra, before reaching to touch her gently. Beca’s eyes flutter and her head drops so she rests her forehead against Chloe’s.

“Chloe,” she whispers again. “You know—”

“I know,” Chloe says, her hands sliding over Beca’s bare skin to rest on her lower back. “But I don’t care.”

Beca stares down at her for a moment, eyes jumping between each of her own. Chloe waits, her entire body screaming for Beca’s touch. When Beca sits up, Chloe’s stomach plummets. But then Beca allows her shirt to slide the rest of the way from her shoulders and reaches to the headboard; she flicks a little switch, and the room lights go out as soft light emits from above the bed.

Chloe blinks up, surprised. “How did you know about that?”

Beca smiles down at her, features soft in the warm lighting. “I saw it the first time I was here.”

Chloe gives a small laugh that breaks off as the tips of Beca’s fingers toy with the hem of her shirt. They trace back and forth for several long seconds, until Chloe becomes impatient. She reaches down and sits up so she can whip the shirt over her head and off the side of the bed. Beca’s eyes drop immediately, and when Chloe lies down again, she pulls Beca back down on top of her.

Beca kisses her again, deep and searing, again breaking away to kiss down her jaw, her neck, her chest. She shifts again, her thigh landing high between Chloe’s. Fire races down Chloe’s spine and she arches, her own hand winding into her hair.

“Bec,” she gasps, and Beca’s lips return to hers.

“You’re so beautiful,” Beca says between kisses. “So, so beautiful.”

Completely overwhelmed, Chloe squirms under Beca, trying to pull her closer. Her hands slide over Beca’s bra strap, and she drags her nails lightly down Beca’s back until she finds the waistband of her pants. Beca stills over her as Chloe’s fingers slide around her hips to rest at the button of her jeans.

Beca pulls away so they can look into each other’s eyes. “Chlo…”

“Do you—” Chloe has to pause to moisten her lips. “Can we—”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely.” Chloe doesn’t hesitate. She has no reason to.

Beca’s eyes flutter again, and when she looks at Chloe, it takes Chloe’s breath from her lungs. “Okay,” she says, pressing a gentle kiss to Chloe’s lips. “Yes.”

With trembling fingers, Chloe opens the button and draws down the zipper.

*****************************

They’d taken a train to the airport. They’d gone through security together. They’d wasted as much time as possible wandering the hallways between gates, hand-in-hand as they looked through the ridiculously overpriced shops before returning to Beca’s gate, as her flight leaves first. Chloe knows they’ve only delayed the inevitable, though, and before she’s entirely ready (not that she’d ever really be ready), it’s time.

The desk attendant calls for boarding and, though it’ll take a little while until Beca’s zone is called, Chloe knows they have to say their goodbyes.

“So,” Beca starts, glancing over at her.

“Yeah,” Chloe sighs, something in her chest giving an uncomfortable tug.

“Yeah.”

They look at each other for a long moment.

“Um—”

“Beca—”

They try to speak simultaneously, and it breaks off into an awkward laugh. Beca rubs at the back of her neck.

“You go first,” Chloe says, knowing Beca would rather get it out of the way.

“Well,” Beca huffs with a small smile. “I was just gonna say that I’m glad you were bored enough in Munich to hire an escort to play twenty questions.”

Chloe feels a corner of her mouth lift. “I’m glad, too.”

Beca grins at her crookedly, then rubs at the end of her nose with the palm of her hand. “Um, what were you gonna say?”

“Oh, uh, I was going to say that I’m glad it was you,” Chloe says delicately. Because it would have been entirely inappropriate to voice what she’d really been wanting to say—Take me with you—and what she ended up saying is completely true anyway.

Beca gives her that signature close-lipped smile. “So, um, I don’t know if this interview… I mean, it’s still early stages,” she says, as though she isn’t almost guaranteed the job. Chloe knows she’ll get the job; how could she not? “But either way, I think I’ll be staying there—New York—for a little while. And, you know, if you want, when you get back—”

“I’ll call you,” Chloe promises, entwining their fingers together. “Definitely.”

“I don’t know for sure what’ll happen.”

“Neither do I. We match.”

“Cool,” Beca laughs right as the desk attendant calls for final boarding. “I should—”

“Totes,” Chloe says, trying to force a smile as they stand from the uncomfortable gate seats.

Beca checks that she has her bag and hadn’t left anything behind before meeting Chloe’s eyes. “Good luck out there, Chlo,” she says, blinking more often than she normally might.

“You too, Bec,” Chloe manages, her own eyes starting to sting.

There’s a beat of silence where Chloe isn’t sure if they should kiss or not, but the crowd around them makes the decision for them. Instead, she pulls Beca into a tight hug, burying her nose into her neck and inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

She hadn’t known Beca long, but Beca feels like home.

Beca has to pull away first. With a nod and a vague gesture in the direction of the dwindling line to board the plane, she starts walking. Chloe thinks she might make some parting noise, but her own throat is too tight to respond.

Still, she watches as Beca joins the line, watches Beca had her boarding pass to the ticketer to be scanned. With barely a glance back and not much fanfare, she watches Beca turn and enter the tunnel, and then she’s gone.

Walking to her own gate, Chloe smiles. She’s definitely texting Beca as soon as she lands.

[lotrthobbit]

                        My Loyal Servant 

Lindir x elf! fem reader

I do not own the gifs used

One-shot

warning: angst, slight smut _ Minors DNI !!!

backstory: You are one of Elrond's daughters who met Lindir during your 'teenage' years and now you are both adult elves.

[y/n pov]

" princess." I turned around to come face to face with yet another suitor that my father has chosen for me.Prince Legolas of Mirkwood .

" yes ?" I looked up at him, I had been staring off into the beautiful view of the many mountains surrounding us and the breathtaking sun set.

" I do not wish to marry anyone, you are very beautiful but-"

" I know Prince Legolas, I know you wish to explore and do nothing more than to find your own path, I... I want to follow my own path as well."

" Then why don't you join me ? Perhaps you may discover a warm hearth of your own."

" No, I found mine, but alas my father does not approve."

He looked into the distance staring at the same sunset I had found myself lost in," I was once the same, loved someone who my father did not approve. "

" What happened to them ?"

" They loved another..."

" I'm sorry."

He smiled and nodded before getting up and bowing." I will be taking my leave princess."

I simply smiled and stayed seated. Will I lose the one I love as well ?

" my lady ?" I look up to see the one person who brightens up my world, Lindir.

" yes Lindir ?" I asked, " Your father requests to see you."

I smiled and got up, Lindir offered his arm and escorted me to the beautiful gardens, there my father was sitting enjoying a cup of tea.

" You wished to speak to me father ?" I asked.

He stood and offered the seat next to him and nodded towards Lindir, causing him to leave.

" We have much to speak about my dear."

I sat next to my father on the bench and asked," What are we going to speak about ?"

" Your marriage to Prince Legolas."

" Father.... I think Legolas and I are not suited for one another."

" Nonsense ! You two are perfect, both are high elves from esteemed families."

" I-Father, I love someone else."

" You do not know what love is, you are infatuated with someone else, but once you marry Legolas that infatuation will disappear. "

" B-but father... I know its love."

" Do not speak back to me ! It has been settled that you will marry Legolas !"

" Arwen was able to marry Aragorn ! Why can I not choose who I wish to marry ?!"

" And Arwen will pay the consequences with her own life, she chose the path of a human."

" But father- he is not hu-"

" Lindir will no longer be your personal servant, he will move elsewhere in the palace."

" BUT FATH-"

" No buts!" he got up and quickly walked away as I clenched my fists, How could this happen ? How did he know ?

I felt the tears slip out as I stared into the garden ahead of me, remembering the countless Times that I sat here with Lindir wishing to run away together.

Why does he not let me choose my own path ?

" Princess?"

That sweet voice, I turned to see a concerned Lindir. I sniffed and tried wiping my tears and threw on a smile," He knows ."

He looked at me," I know."

" How ?" I asked. He looked down," Because I told him."

My eyes widened as I looked straight into his eyes," Why ?!"

" Beca-because I no longer love you."

I looked him straight into his eyes, hoping to see his true emotions, but all I saw was coldness, nothing but venom.

I shook my head and walked away. Once I felt the distance I began to run away into my bedroom and threw myself onto my bed.

It seemed like everything was being destroyed, how could he not love me after he had told me I reminded him of the beautiful stars in the night sky. With determination I sat up and walked out making my way towards the servant quarters.

Once I made it to his room I did not knock, my anger blinded me as I walked in," I will not-"

I was cut off at the screaming and scuffling, before me was Lindir, his bare chest in full view, he was changing his clothing.

" Princess-"

I cut him off," Silence, do not speak but listen. I- You are a horrible person Lindir, you lull me with such sweet and kind words, tell me you loved me and gave me my first kiss, yet suddenly you decide that you no longer love me anymore ?! Why have you played with my heart ? Do my feelings not matter ?!" I was waving my arms, my anger was beginning to sizzle into sadness.

"I.. Please princess do not make me do this."

" Do what ?!"

" You deserve to be with someone of the same standing, someone grand, someone who can buy you everything your beautiful heart desires, the finest silks for a beautiful face and body, all the books for the most brilliant mind. I can not offer that, I am simply a Servant."

" When are you going to get through you thick skull that I do not want nor need that ! I love you and I always chose you." I Yelled out, my chest puffing as I was trying to catch my breath from yelling and clenching my fists against my robes.

He did not utter a word until I turned around and said," so be it, I will Marry Legolas, he will love me, kiss me, make sweet love to-"

I was cut short as he pushed me against the wall, his bare chest pressing against my back," do...do not utter such words." he growled.

"why does it bother you? You already told me that you do not love me anymore." I felt the tears fall from my eyes as I looked into Lindir's," Am I so easily disposable to you ?" I felt my voice break.

He grabbed my cheeks and pulled my face into a long and -passionate kiss, " You could never be disposed of, you're the love of my life, but you know we can not be together."

I looked down at my feet, he was right, my father will only send Lindir away and I would still be forced to wed Prince Legolas and move into Mirkwood.

" Please, can we be together for one more night ?" I looked back up as I pleaded, knowing this would truly be the last time we would see one another as lovers. He placed his forehead against mine as he whispered, " as you wish my love."

I had finally retreated back into my quarters after I had spent the day avoiding my father and acting normal with the new maid at my side. She had finally left me alone and I stood staring outside of my window at the beautiful stars. How cruel was this life that I could not even spend it with the one that I love ?

I heard a very quiet knock, I got up and opened the door quietly to see Lindir. He quickly latched his lips against mine and closed the door behind him. We fell atop of my bed and continued kissing.

His touch felt like electricity on my skin as we both undressed one another. The moon was illuminating the room as the small candle in the corner of my bedroom was slowly dimming itself.

The thought itself of letting go brought more tears to my eyes and down my cheeks. He looked at me lovingly and kissed my tears away and whispered endless 'I love you' to me.

He left a trail of kisses from my jaw down towards the valley of mu breasts, leaving marks on them and abusing the skin. Knowing it was the last time we could have these moments I gripped the bed sheets under me tighter trying to surpass these thoughts as he whispered," just focus on me, my love, It's just us and no one else. "

I looked into his eyes and nodded and placed both of my legs atop of his shoulder and he placed kisses between my lips. He slowly began to drag his tongue between them placing pressure on my clit as he rubbed the outside of my needy hole. I found myself becoming wetter by the second as he inserted a finger into it and continued to suck and abuse my cunt. I felt euphoria. It was just us and no one else.

" Come undone my love, I am here to savor every moment of it."

And I did come undone as I gripped the bedsheets and moaned, secretly hoping no one could hear the lewd noises coming out of my being.

He then came back up and kissed my lips and held me in his arms.

" Please let me in."

I felt him slowly coming inside me, the pain was excruciating, but nothing could compare to the pain I will feel after this night is over. We became one as he held my hands and began thrusting, He never once stopped kissing me, I felt his tears fall onto my face, the saltiness mixing into the kiss.

The moon was bright, illuminating our sweaty bodies, the candle died. He pulled out and laid on my chest after we both reached ecstasy, basking in each others warmth.

He cried into my chest, I felt pain in my chest as I stoked his hair. He kissed my forehead, cheeks, then lips.

" I am so sorry my love, I would do anything just to be with you." I felt myself whimper and hug him close, " Lindir...I don't want to leave you."

" I know my love.."

.

.

.

That did not stop him from leaving my room in the middle of the night. There I was.... laying in my bed, despite the many furs covering my skin, I still could feel the cold.

perhaps in another life we can meet again....

AN: Sorry I kinda lost sight of this story, so apologies if its a little messy.

[suituuup]

day thirteen - mountains

*

This is definitely not what Chloe had in mind when she had decided to take a trip to the mountains.

“Here they come,” the kind man told her as she knelt by her side, waving his arm to draw the ski patroller’s attention. “Over here!”

The woman in a red jacket bearing a white cross skidded to a stop. “Hey. I’m Beca. What’s your name?” She asked Chloe as she unfastened her skis in one swift motion.

“Chloe,” Chloe replied. She glanced at the stranger who had stopped to wait with her. “Thanks a lot.”

“Sure thing. Good luck,” he said with a smile before continuing his way down.

Beca knelt in the snow on Chloe’s other side. “Where does it hurt?”

“My right knee. I’ve torn my ACL before and it’s the same kind of pain.”

“Ouch,” Beca said with a wince. “How ‘bout your head? Did you lose consciousness?”

“No. I feel okay otherwise.”

“Alright.” Beca grabbed the walkie talkie strapped to her jacket. “752 to main.”

“This is main. Stacie here. What’s up?”

“I’m gonna need a T-bog. Got a woman with a knee injury.”

“Copy that, I’ll be right down.”

“Just hang on a few minutes,” Beca told Chloe. “We’ll get you down nice and easy.”

“Thanks,” Chloe said, mustering a smile. “This isn’t how I pictured my holiday.”

Beca gave her a sympathetic smile. “I can imagine. Where you from?”

“Oregon, but I live in NYC.” A shiver ran through her body, and she watched as Beca took off her jacket. “You’ll be cold.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she assured Chloe as she laid the warm jacket over her torso.

Another ski patroller reached them a few seconds later. “Hi. I’m Stacie. You hanging in there?”

Chloe nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’m gonna wrap your leg in a splint, alright?” Beca told her. “I’ll try my best not to make it too painful.”

Chloe took a deep breath, biting down on her bottom lip as Beca strapped the splint around her injured leg, moaning slightly in pain.

“All done. Worst part’s over,” she let Chloe know with a reassuring smile. “We just need to transfer you onto the backboard and then onto the sled, alright?”

Chloe nodded once more. “Yeah, okay.” They rolled her onto her side gently, then slid the board under her before rolling her back and lifting the board into the toboggan sled. Beca took her jacket back and wrapped Chloe up with the insulated tarp. “This is pretty comfy,” she admitted with a soft laugh.

Beca smirked. “You’re getting a VIP escort down to the station.”

“Lucky me,” Chloe joked, smiling.

“When you two are done flirting, can we get this show on the road?” Stacie asked, her teasing evident in her tone.

“Shut up, Conrad,” Beca muttered as she did a last check, then shouldered her backpack. Chloe saw her upper cheeks reddening and bit back an amused smile. “Alright, Stacie will be out front, I’ll stick by your side. Sound good?”

The patrollers snapped their skis back on, and they soon slowly started making their way down the hill, reaching the bottom about five minutes later. They unloaded Chloe from the toboggan and transferred her to a bed in the rescue center, where she was given a warm drink and a snack while she waited for the ambulance to pick her up and take her to the hospital.

“We’re all done here,” Beca told her as she stepped back inside after gathering all their gears.

Chloe had a much better angle now, and she couldn’t help but note how attractive the other woman looked. “Thanks a lot for your help,” she said softly.

Beca shrugged. “Just doin’ my job.”

“Can I um, buy you a coffee sometime in the next couple of days?”

A pause. “As in, going out?”

Chloe was the one to shrug this time. “If you’re comfortable with that.”

Beca cleared her throat, that blush coming back full force. “Um yeah. Yeah, sure.” She reached inside her coat pocket for her phone. “Just um, put your number in here, I’ll text you.”

“Mitchell! Quit flirting, I’m hungry!”

Beca rolled her eyes, puffing out a breath. “Sorry about her. She’s a pain in my butt.”

Chloe giggled as she handed the device back to its owner. “Here you go.”

“Cool.” Beca cast her a smile. “See you around, Chloe.”

“See ya.”

Maybe her holiday wasn’t completely ruined after all.

[freedomseeker91]

The Ultimate Betrayal….

Chapter 3

Title: Ready or Not

Summary: Chloe arrives at the hospital in Georgia, but struggles to digest and cope with what Beca has been through in two years

Rating: T for Angst/Comfort

Warnings: Minor mentions, allusions to torture

I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole with this Drabble, that’s now a Multi Drabble. Anyways hope you enjoy.

Chloe braced her hands against the railing outside, knuckles turning white as she gripped it to steady herself. The wave of nausea that had settled in the pit of her stomach began working it’s way up through the worry and anxiety that was currently constricting around her windpipe.

All of a sudden she found herself leaning over the rail and heaving up everything that had been eating her up since she landed in Georgia. As she continued to heave and retch, a comforting hand came to rest on her back, rubbing soothing circles. Aubrey.

The blonde had been right by Chloe’s side when the redhead had made a dash for the exit, unable to breathe within the confines of the walls of the military hospital they had finally found themselves in after a restless flight, and a night spent in an apartment arranged by Aubrey for the duration of their stay.

This wasn’t how Chloe had anticipated her morning going, but then, nothing could have prepared her for the news she had received from the doctor who had taken on Beca’s case.

Beca. Her beautiful, intelligent, courageous fiancée. Hearing what she had been through, what she was still going through had been the straw that broke the camels back and whittled away at the last of Chloe’s resolve.

She knew when she arrived that whatever she found waiting for her would be difficult to confront. But thinking it and actually hearing it, were two altogether different experiences, an experience Chloe couldn’t possibly have prepared herself for.

When they had arrived at the hospital, escorted by General Posen himself, they had been formally greeted by Doctor Matthews and taken to a family room instead of a stuffy office, a clear indication that they were looking to spare as much pain as possible.

It was within those four walls that the true horrors of what Beca had faced had been brought to light, and Chloe’s world bottomed out. To prepare her for what she would find within the hospital room, the doctor had gone into great detail about Beca’s condition.

The solider, having been starved and deprived of proper nutrition over a span of 2 years, was currently being fed through a peg, the only way they could ensure her body was receiving proper nutrients in a manner she was capable of as she physically could not consume solid food.

Antibiotics were continuously being pumped into her system to combat infection from wounds that had not healed or that were healing poorly. It was then Chloe learned of the brutal whippings Beca had routinely been subjected to as a form of punishment.

Though Chloe hadn’t seen the physical damage for herself, the image painted for her by the doctor had been enough to sear into her brain for life. Many scars now littered the once porcelain skin of Beca’s back, permanently etched to her being to remind her of what she had been through.

The lashing were so severe, they couldn’t rest her on her back due to more recent open wounds being drained of infection, and older scar tissue still too sore and sensitive to the touch.

Many of Beca’s organs such as her kidneys, which had been on the verge of shutting down, were currently being monitored hourly in the hopes of reviving them to a state of better health.

There were numerous superficial burn marks and scaring on various parts of Beca’s body, signs that other tools had been used to inflict suffering and torment.

But the most difficult, most gruesome detail to bear, the one that horrified them the most, was knowing that Beca had lived through having both of her legs gouged and pierced with a flaming hot poker in what had been planned to be a final line of torture prior to execution, a mere day before she had been rescued.

With the delay in medical intervention, and Beca already battling infection, the presence of sepsis had become a medical emergency, and with no other option, both of her legs had been amputated above the knee to save her life.

Standing outside the hospital catching her breath, Chloe could feel the weight of what was to come settling itself upon her shoulders and she almost buckled. But she couldn’t, not now, not when Beca was back within reach. She needed to be strong, she needed to push everything else to the back of her mind and move forward.

Because no matter how difficult or hard Chloe found it, it would never come close to comparing to what Beca was going through.

The soldier had two years of her life ripped away from her. Two years of the people she loved most thinking she was dead. Two years at the merciless hands of savages who would rather watch her suffer than put her out of her misery. Two years of knowing she had been betrayed by her closest comrade.

All because of Chloe.

“This is all my fault,” Chloe sobbed, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.

Aubrey frowned, dazed by her best friends statement because it made no logical sense to her whatsoever.

“Chlo, how could this possibly be your fault?” Aubrey asked, the exasperation in her tone evident to anyone who heard her. Chloe heaved out a heavy, stuttered breath wiping at the tear drops rolling down her cheeks.

“If I had just focused on the tour instead of getting caught up in my own feelings then Beca’s life would’ve carried on as normal. Instead she’s h-here,” Chloe cried and Aubrey shook her head fiercely, tugging roughly on Chloe’s arm so that the redhead had no choice but to face her.

“NO! Chloe this is not on you this was all Chicago. He did this. He’s the reason Beca is here, he’s the reason for all of this,” Aubrey said, her tone laced with annoyance, not at Chloe, but at the thought that she was taking responsibility for somebody else’s grotesque and selfish actions.

“Chloe, Beca is the love of your life and you are without a shadow of a doubt hers. You guys were meant to be together, anyone with eyes could see that. Don’t ever let what Chicago did make you think otherwise.”

Chloe turned her head towards the hospital, gazing up at the multi-storey building and gesturing with her hand.

“Yeah but this, she doesn’t deserve this,” Chloe whispered and Aubrey shook her head.

“No she doesn’t. But Beca is a soldier. She risked her life every day to serve a greater purpose and with that comes the consequence of knowing that your life would always be in someone else’s hands. And all of us, every last one of us knows that had those hands been yours and not Chicago’s, she wouldn’t be here right now. She would be home safe with you. Because that’s how much you love her.”

Aubrey was right, Chloe couldn’t change what Chicago had done, hell she couldn’t even guarantee he wouldn’t have lost control at some other point irrespective of her presence in Beca’s life. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt her knowing she was the common denominator between what Chicago had done and where Beca had ended up.

War always came with risk. Conflict always came with risk. Chloe just never thought for a second that she would’ve been the conflict that led to Chicago’s actions that irreversibly damaged the person she cared about most in this world.

“Her legs Bree,” Chloe gasped, the realisation of just how badly Beca had been mutilated by those savages consuming her.

“I know,” Aubrey replied swallowing thickly around the lump in her throat at the thought as she linked her hand with her best friends and gave it a comforting squeeze, silently letting her know she was there for her.

Beca had always been a fit, active person, everyone that knew her knew that. The fact that her body had been mutilated in such a way as to try and deprive her in any was was unfathomable.

However none of that mattered to Chloe. She didn’t care how Beca’s body might look or how different it might be. The fact that she was alive, that Chloe had a chance, was all that mattered.

But she knew Beca would struggle, and they didn’t yet know the full extent of just how much this had all impacted her mentally. For all the talk of Beca’s physical scars and injuries, the ones that would cut the deepest and hurt the most, would be the ones no one could see.

Yet Chloe knew that no matter what, even if she had to pick Beca up and carry her for the rest of her life, that she would do it. Somehow she would find a way to get her through this. Because to Chloe, nothing she faced in all of this would ever compare to what Beca had endured for two years.

And that was what she needed to remind herself of as she moved forward. No matter how difficult things might get, no matter how much Beca might try push her away, Chloe needed to stay strong and hold on.

She was aware of the fact that the Chicago situation was still hanging over her head, and that at some point, she would have to tell Beca the truth, but for now her priority had to be making sure Beca pulled through her immediate health challenges.

Everything else could wait, for now. Gazing back up at the hospital Chloe wiped away the remaining tear residue and took a deep breath.

Once she stepped foot back in that hospital, she was committing herself fully to whatever lay within the hospital room that Beca now called home and there would be no going back.

Raising her hand, she gazed at the diamond ring sitting upon her finger and drew strength from its presence. Because Chloe wasn’t committing herself to a cause, she was committing herself to the love of her life.

They may not have had the chance to vow in sickness and in health, till death do they part, but she vowed in that moment to live by those sentiments regardless of their legal or romantic status.

With one final breath, Chloe tightened her hold on Aubrey’s hand and together they made their way back inside the hospital to find Dr. Matthews so Chloe could finally reunite with the woman she had mourned for and yearned for since that fateful day two years ago.

They found the doctor stood outside his office speaking with General Posen and as the women approached he turned to face them, hands resting inside the pockets of his white coat as he asked the one question that was hanging in the air.

“Are you ready?” He said, gazing directly at Chloe.

The redhead straightened at his words and pulled back her shoulders, bracing herself as she nodded her head and mentally prepared herself for what was to come.

“I’m ready”….

[selene-kaito]

My Life, My Rules: CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER ONE -- CHAPTER TWO-- CHAPTER THREE-- CHAPTER FOUR-- CHAPTER FIVE

FEBUWHUMP 2022: DAY 23- DON'T LEAVE ME

TW: SA, NFSW

“Don’t leave me Eris. Please don’t leave me.” Aelia’s voice was always in his nightmares.

They started out wonderfully, both of them as children running across Forest House. Happy and content. Then she would be charmed into falling off a cliff and would beg him to never leave her.

“Don’t leave me Eris. Please don’t leave me.”

“Never Aelia.” He would promise. But then there were his father’s guards, always a step behind him. They were grabbing and dragging him back and Aelia stayed there screaming.

“Don’t leave me Eris. Please don’t leave me.”

🔥🔥🔥

The next day Eris and a few of his loyal soldiers escorted Gwyn to the mountains. Emerie accompanied them at Gwyn’s request. Eris didn’t protest, he knew enough of the female’s past that he would never dare to make her uncomfortable.

And not only because her sisters would burn off his favorite part if they did.

Emerie would probably use her knives but Nesta’s fire was the real weapon. Nesta had no problem using her fire to intimidate but she refused to become a warrior.

Eris didn’t push, it was her choice, not his.

Besides her fire was deadlier than all of the High Lord’s powers combined.

“You may be able to snare a single person,” Eris said gracefully lounging against a tree, “But a dozen?” He raised his eyebrows. “It will be much more difficult.

Gwyn nodded with awe on her features, “I didn’t know that you could snare more than one person. All the books are very vague.” Eris nodded in understanding before gesturing his soldiers to stand single file in front of them.

“Nesta had the opposite problem,” He explained to the enthralled redhead, “Her power came in waves, she needed to focus it. You need to try to see yours as a wave or as a wall.”

Gwyn nodded before turning back to the soldiers. She stared at them but only the middle soldier walked forward. Her shoulders slumped in dismay before Eris could chide her on giving up already she straightened them once more and faced the soldiers.

Eris smirked as he bit into an apple. That girl was a fighter.

“Okay, let's take a break,” Eris said to Gwyn. Gwyn glared at him slightly as she wiped the sweat from her eyes. In the two hours they had been there Gwyn had just caught all the soldiers in her net before she lost them.

It was progress.

Gwyn slumped next to him on the ground and grinned slightly when he threw her a red shiny apple.

“Why the sudden desire to learn how to control your magic now?” Eris enquired, after all, she had had years in temples to learn from priestesses.

“The priestesses didn’t like it. They told me to never use it. And it was dangerous. Catrin, my twin sister, didn’t have it but she used to encourage me to play with wisps of sunlight so I wouldn’t get rusty. When the temple was attacked I stopped using it. After Catrin, I just couldn’t. And I knew that Rhysand would see it as a threat so I kept quiet in the library.”

Eris could understand that Rhysand would make Gwyn into his perfect weapon, just as he desired to do with Nesta. Gwyn wouldn’t have liked that and would have undoubtedly fought back. Eris knew very well that Rhysand didn’t like when people fought back.

“The library? Eris asked in confusion. Gwyn spoke of it as if he should have automatically known what she meant.

“It was a place for women who were survivors of abuse or worse… I joined right after the war.” Eris swallowed harshly at that. He knew already but that didn’t mean he liked for the thought to be confirmed. Over the last few weeks, he had grown immensely fond of Gwyn’s friends.

Eris glanced to the side and saw Emerie chatting with one of his soldiers before he said, “My father sold me and my brothers to Amarantha when we were Under the Mountain. Each of us to a different general.” He saw the realization in Gwyn’s eyes as she realized exactly what he was saying.

Maybe Gwyn knew that he didn’t want her to say something because a moment later she said, “You’re really good at this.”

Maybe it was their newfound camaraderie, or maybe he just wanted anyone else to know. “There used to be eight Vanserra’s. Seven brothers and a sister. Aelia.” Her name was an exhale on his lips.

Aelia.

Beautiful and kind Aelia.

Gwyn twisted her body to face his as she gestured for him to continue, “She was nine years younger than me. It was a miracle, two fae pregnancies in a decade. But she was a girl. She was always treated as less than. But I loved her. She was my baby sister. When she got older we found out that she was a lightsinger. I helped her. I trained her. Lightsingers used to be more common then but I never told my father. He would have killed her.”

“Why?” Gwyn asked her face twisted in confusion, “Wouldn’t she be a powerful weapon?”

“Yes,” Eris admitted, “but she was so powerful. It looked like she would have the power of Autumn instead of me. My father killed her.” Gwyn looked at him sadly.

“It’s so hard to live without sisters isn’t it?”

“So so hard,” Eris replied remembering his beloved sister.

🔥🔥🔥

Nesta was nervously loitering outside of Eris’ study when his voice rang out from inside, “Are you just going to wear holes in my carpet, or are you ever going to come inside.”

Nesta scowled at the door before she strode into his study. Eris looked up from his stack of papers and raised an eyebrow at her. “Nervous Nes?” He asked raising one red eyebrow.

Nesta smirked at him making sure that her face was a clean slate before replying, “Just trying to brace myself.” She made a show of scrutinizing the room before glancing back to him, “It is so very disappointing.”

Eris gave her a lazy smile before purring, “Come closer Nes. You should know I never disappoint a woman.” Nesta glared at him when she caught the innuendo but caught herself before she could snap at him.

“Do you know Cresseida, Princess of Adriata?” It was a rhetorical question but Eris nodded nonetheless. Nesta hesitantly slid a folder across the table to him gestured for him to open it.

“We met in the war and have since been corresponding. We have decided to demand the Night Court for reimbursement for the destruction of the Summer Court, the destruction of the Archeron mansion, and the apartment building they tore down. We both went over the paperwork already but I just wanted to run it by you.”

Eris raised his eyebrow when he read the information for a second Nesta was worried that something was wrong but all Eris said was, “Nes this is really good.” He gave her a smirk before he said, “I doubt your sister will understand half of the references or laws you mentioned here.” Nesta laughed slightly at that.

“I don’t want to be like her. I don’t want to claim a title for no reason other than my marriage. I’m going to donate half of the money I’d get to families destroyed by the war. If I’m going to be the Lady of Autumn I intend to do something other than smile and dance.”

Eris gave her such a bright smile and Nesta wished that he would never stop smiling. Because at that moment he looked like the bright sunset and all those princes in her storybooks.

At that moment he looked perfect.

With a shock, Nesta realized that she would have done anything to keep that smile on his face.

Nesta had been so enamored that she almost missed the next words he said. “What?” She asked. Eris gave a confused look before repeating his words.

“I think I might make you HIgh Lady. I agree with you that you need to earn it but this is definitely the first step. In fact, you should probably ask Tamlin to write a petition too. You could all send them at once.”

For a moment Nesta wanted to refuse. She knew what Tamlin did to Feyre, but maybe he deserved a second chance. Nesta gave Eris a brisk nod before walking closer to him. In just moments she was right in front of him. Nesta didn't know what his reaction would be but she did know that if she wanted to live her own life, she had to make choices that no one else could make for her.

“Nes?” Eris enquired, his eyes wide. Nesta moved closer and closer till she had one leg on the chair and swung up the other so that she was straddling him. Nesta watched Eris’ Adam's apple bob. “You have a mate, Nesta.” He said brushing aside the hand she used as she reached for the laces of his shirt.

“A mate I rejected. A mate who prefers Rhysand. If he prefers Rhysand so damn much he might as well bed him. I want this Eris. Do you?” She enquired.

“I want this Nes. I want this so damn much.” He growled before he was unlacing the ties on her dress.

“This will only happen once,” Nesta murmured the lie feeling like sandpaper on her tongue.

“Yes.” Eris agreed. “How prettily we lie Nesta.” He said before showing her exactly what he had learned in his five centuries of existence.

🔥🔥🔥

“I’m going to be bruised for weeks,” Nesta murmured as Eris redid the ties on her dress. Eris chuckled at that as he lightly touched one of the bruises on her neck.

“Bruised? That’s nothing. There are scratches on my neck. Actual scratches.” Nesta smirked at that.

She turned to him and purred, “Someone’s quick of the mark.” Before Eris could remind her how much she had enjoyed that encounter she had left the room.

Eris only lasted a minute before he burst into laughter.

[ridiculously-over-obsessed]

Hey. Because you often whip out the angst, but I still could never resist your stories, I’m going with the opposite (Don’t make it angsty PLEASE! 😂)

Pairing Bechloe (is there any other?!!!!)

No 4. "Let's kiss and see where it takes us."

Thank you 😘

Dklsdhgdlfkg me??? Writing angsty fics??? That NEVER happens 😂 you are so sweet, so for you I will write a short little soft thing (or I'll try anyway kdfhglfgdsf)

4. "Let's kiss and see where it takes us."

Beca couldn't really believe she was here.

Okay, it wasn't the location that in question that Beca was surprised by; she'd lost count of the number of times that she'd been in a bar since turning eighteen (don't judge her, almost every teenager in the States gets a fake ID at eighteen!). No, what Beca couldn't believe was that she was here on a date. A date with Chloe freakin' Beale.

The fact that it had taken four years of college and a year of not only living together but sharing a bed for Beca to find the balls to finally ask Chloe on a date was, arguably, a little pathetic, but they were here. They were actually here, on a date, in what was a definitely an overpriced French bar (Beca was certain they had seen her coming a mile off and were charging her extra) but Beca didn't care.

She tugged nervously at the hem of her skirt. Why was she wearing a dress? Beca knew she would have been more comfortable in a blazer, shirt and pants, but she had been second guessing herself all night. Still, it didn't really matter what she wore Beca tried to reassure herself. Chloe had seen Beca at her most disheveled, in her hole-iest sweat pants and most threadbare t-shirt. So it really shouldn't matter what she wore tonight... right?

"Hey."

Beca was dragged from her thoughts by the soft melodic tone of the woman she had not stopped thinking about since she had burst into her shower naked half a decade ago. A smile spread across her face as she turned from the bar to face Chloe, wondering how it was possible that she got more beautiful every time she saw her.

"Hi." Beca breathed, relieved to see an identical grin on Chloe's face as she leant against the bar beside her, "You came."

"Of course I did." Chloe giggled, Beca feeling her heart skipping a beat at the melodic way the sound filled the air. God why had it taken her so long to ask Chloe to do this?

"I've waited years for this Becs."

"Me too." Beca whispered, chewing at her lip nervously as she always did when her brain was working in overdrive.

"Talk to me." Chloe took Beca's hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. She knew that look anywhere; Beca was overthinking things again.

"I just... I can't believe we're really here y'know?" Beca chuckled, running her free hand through her hair, "I changed outfits like three times and I'm still not happy with my decision, I'm wearing perfume that I borrowed from Stacie because I don't own any and I'm like ninety percent certain I smell like a high class escort, not to mention I had the most traumatizing conversation of my life with her about what people do on dates because it's been so long since I actually went on one-"

"Hey, hey." Chloe cupped Beca's face in her hands as she laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement as Beca blushed, realising she'd been rambling, "Breathe Becs. It's okay. I'm nervous too."

"You are?" Beca sighed in relief, her shoulders sagging slightly as a weight was lifted off them, "Oh thank God..."

"How about this? Let's kiss and see where it takes us." Chloe smirked a little at the way Beca's eyes lit up at the suggestion.

"I can do that." Beca smirked back, closing the gap between their lips without any further hesitation.

Their lips met and suddenly all the worries Beca had melted away. This felt right, like this is what she should have always been doing. She should always have kissing Chloe, who was she kidding? Chloe's hand slid into her hair and pulled them closer, the kiss deepening as both of them forgot completely that they were in a very public place. It didn't matter. Chloe and Beca were finally admitting to how they felt about the other and that was the only thing that mattered at all.

When they finally broke apart for hair, Beca's shit-eating grin could have been seen from space. Chloe chuckled as she tucked a lock of Beca's hair behind her ear.

"So... still overthinking things?"

"Nuh uh." Beca shook her head, fingers intertwining with Chloe's, "There's only one thought in my head now..."

"Oh yeah?" Chloe smirked, "And what's that?"

"Kissing you again."

Hope this is soft enough for you lovely!!! 🥰💖

send me prompts for a drabble thing?

[crashedwave]

February Drabble Challenge - Day 10: Cards

Beca glanced down at her watch and frowned. It had long since died, just like her phone. She chose to ignore the voice of her father in the back of her head, telling her not to rely too much on technology.

Hopelessly she looked around at the walls for a clock or some indication of the time. She knew there wasn’t any, but still, she had to look. Just in case.

They say casinos rob you of not only money but also time. At least one of those statements rang true. Her eyes fell on the poker table across the room. 8 players, spread out evenly around an oblong table. Among the cowboy hats and sunglasses, there was a mop of blazing hair that stood out.

Chloe sat in the middle of the table. Her cards laid flat in front of her, fingers fiddling with a stack of chips while her blue eyes followed the bets around the circle. Her normal carefree face was sat in such a natural and emotionless pose that Beca could have confused her with a statue.

They were separated by a thick velvet rope and wide-shouldered men with earpieces. People with camera rigs circled the table. This was a big deal poker tournament. Broadcast on TV to the masses in a handful of countries. Beca had to laugh at herself that this tournament likely had more views than any of their acapella shows. If she was honest, it wasn’t fair but then again money talks.

She had laughed at Chloe when she told Beca that she had landed an invite to this game.

“Since when do you play poker?” She had asked

“All the time, that’s what I’m doing on my phone most of the time.” Chloe had responded, not one ounce of sarcasm.

“I thought you were scrolling Instagram or something, I don't know, normal.”

Chloe laughed and wrapped Beca in her arms. “Only sometimes, my love.”

And so they went to Vegas together. Everything paid for. If Beca had thought New York never sleeps, Vegas didn’t even know the word sleep. Lights blazing in the dark desert sky. People moving about. The only difference between night and day was the placement of the sun.

Not that Beca would know where the sun was now. They had been inside for hours. Chloe had worked and won her way to the final table. This was the do-or-die moment.

The man next to Chloe was sweating through his shirt, he kept sipping a whiskey with shaky hands. When it was his turn to bet, he shoved his entire pile of chips into the center of the table before downing his drink.

Beca held her breath. Chloe had enough chips she could match him. But she remained cool and collected. She let go of the chips she was fiddling with and instead tossed her cards, face down in front of her.

“I fold.” She deadpanned and Beca exhaled.

By the time the betting was done, there were only 3 players with cards in the game. The sweaty man was the only one without chips. His entire progress in this tournament depended on him winning this round. The cards were revealed and a man’s dreams were crushed before her eyes. The sweaty man whipped off his tie and threw it down at the table before standing, security swooped in and escorted him away.

And the game went on.

It felt like days before it was Chloe and another person. He was about her age, a perfect jawline, well-trimmed beard. His hair was spiked but in a tasteful way. Even Beca would admit he was attractive. She half expected him to use his looks and maybe his charm to distract Chloe. But both players were too entirely focused on the game to do any kind of flirting.

The man tossed in a large stack of chips, they crashed into the green felt with a soft thud. Attention turned back to Chloe. She peaked at her card, leaving them on the table and lifting only the corner. She tossed more chips, taking from two stacks.

After hours of watching cards and chips move around the table - the end happened so fast Beca almost missed it. Card flipped face side up and it was over. The crowd erupted into applause and cheers. The man stood and ran his hands through his hair. And Chloe…

Chloe was searching for her, for Beca. And Beca was moving to the edge of the rope before she realized what her feet were doing.

Chloe met her at the edge of the game floor, her smile so big and bright. Announcers were shouting something, cameras all pointed at them. And Beca didn’t care. Chloe had just won millions of dollars, more money than Beca had ever seen in her life, but the first thing Chloe did was find her.

“We did it Becs,” she said in a voice that was meant only for Beca’s ears before she leaned in and kissed her.

Beca threaded her hands into the forest fire of hair and all the sounds and flashes of lights around them faded into nothing. Even if Chloe lost, they were always winners as long as they had each other.

[massivedrickhead]

Escort ☺️

[ ESCORT ] : sender accompanies the receiver home late at night, in order to ensure they're safe.

From this list of prompts

Read on AO3

With a sigh, Beca extended her hand towards Chloe.

“Come on,” she said, “I’ll walk you home.”

“I don’t need you to walk me home,” Chloe replied, her voice less slurred than she’d been expecting, but enough to let Beca know that she was far from sober.

“I know you don’t,” Beca said, her voice calm and patient. “But I can’t leave you like this. I’m incapable of walking away right now.”

“Who said I even wanted to go home?” Chloe asked, her arms folded against her chest as she swayed ever so slightly on her feet.

“Nobody,” Beca said, holding back another sigh. She ran a hand through her hair. “Come on dude. It’s late, the bars will be closing soon, and they won’t serve you anymore anyway.”

“Fine,” Chloe said, her arms still folded as she walked away from Beca and towards her apartment.

Beca closed her open hand and shoved it into her pocket before she did a small jog to catch up to Chloe.

She was tired after a long day of work and her head was pounding, but she knew she had to keep her bad mood in check.

“How did you know I was here?” Chloe asked after they’d walked in silence for a few minutes.

“The girl you were trying to pick up works for me,” Beca said, hoping any hint of jealousy couldn’t be heard in her voice. “She’s my assistant. She’s seen your picture on my desk a hundred times. So she called me because she got the vibe that you weren’t okay.”

“Oh.”

“She’s straight, by the way,” Beca added.

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to pick her up,” Chloe said. “I was just… it was just flirting.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Beca said.

Chloe reached out and tugged at Beca’s arm, pulling her hand out of her pocket so Chloe could thread their fingers together.

“It wasn’t serious flirting,” Chloe said. “I promise.”

“Okay.”

“You won’t tell Chicago will you?”

“No, of course not,” Beca said,

“Are you mad at me?”

Beca glanced across at her. “Why would I be mad?”

Chloe shrugged. “You seem mad. I would be mad.”

“I’m not mad. I’m… worried. I’m worried about you,” Beca said.

“You don’t need to worry,” Chloe said, her voice turning cold, her hand pulling out of Beca’s grasp so she could fold her arms across her chest again. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Beca said.

Chloe let out an annoyed huff. “I’m an adult, Beca. I’m allowed to go out and get drunk, in fact I think it’s what most people our age do. It’s normal. Me being a little bit tipsy doesn’t mean I’m not okay.”

“I know that,” Beca said, “but you going out drinking alone for the third night in a row is maybe a sign that you’re not okay. And maybe talking to someone about what’s going on with you would help more than getting drunk every night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Chloe said.

“Okay,” Beca said. “If you change your mind, the offer still stands.”

They were silent again for a while. The old sounds were the clip-clopping of Chloe’s heels against the pavement, and the occasional car driving past.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, finally breaking the silence. “You’re right, I’m not okay, and I’m taking it out on you.”

“That’s okay,” Beca said. “You don’t need to apologise.”

“Yes I do,” Chloe said. “You came out here in the middle of the night to walk me home and I’m acting like a jerk.”

Beca shrugged. “You’re my best friend, and you’re hurting. You’re allowed to act like a jerk sometimes.”

Chloe laughed and shook her head. “Stop being so nice to me.”

“No,” Beca said. “Never.”

After another small silence, Chloe slipped her hand into Beca’s again.

“I don’t want to go home,” she said, her voice much smaller than it had been. “Chicago and I have been fighting again. A lot.” Beca heard her sniff, and she tightened her hand around Chloe’s. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Okay,” Beca said, softly. She turned, checking the road before gently pulling Chloe across it. “You can stay at my place.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Beca said. “I’m not here because I have to be. I’m here because I want to be.”

The silence that fell this time was much more comfortable, and the two girls found themselves approaching Beca’s apartment sooner than they’d anticipated.

“My head hurts” Chloe groaned, leaning against the wall as Beca fished her keys out of her pocket.

“I’m sure it does,” Beca said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

She opened the door and took Chloe’s hand again.

Once they were inside the apartment, Chloe made her way to Beca’s room, and began rummaging through her drawers for the pyjamas she always borrowed when she stayed over.

Beca filled a glass with water and grabbed a couple of Advil to help combat Chloe’s headache and approaching hangover.

“Do you want to call Chicago and let him know you’re staying over?” Beca asked, placing the Advil and water on the nightstand.

Chloe shook her head. “He won’t notice. Or care.”

“I’m sure he’ll notice if you don’t go home tonight,” Beca said.

“He won’t,” Chloe said. She pulled her phone out of her bag and tossed it onto the bed. “But you can text him if you’re worried about it.”

Beca took Chloe’s phone and typed in the passcode. She felt weird about opening her messages with Chicago, but Chloe had just given her permission.

She felt her face get hot and her chest get tight as she saw the last messages Chloe had received from Chicago.

Chicago: fucking come home now please. I’m not done talking about this.

Chicago: don’t make me come to that fucking bar and drag you home.

Chicago: stupid bitch if you don’t answer my calls we’re done.

Chicago: baby I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Please come home.

Beca looked up from the phone and at Chloe. She was sitting on the edge of the bed now, changed into pyjamas, taking off her jewellery.

“Chlo’… he shouldn’t speak to you like this,” Beca said.

“I know,” Chloe said, sounding tired now. “He was drunk. Angry. He’s not normally like that.”

“Has he ever…” Beca couldn’t voice the question, she was too scared of the answer, but Chloe seemed to know what she was asking.

“No,” she said. “Never. He just gets frustrated. Says things he doesn’t mean.”

Beca nodded and looked down at the phone. She tapped out a message and hit send.

Chloe: Beca here - Chloe’s crashing at my place tonight. Just letting you know in case you were worried about her.

She handed Chloe her phone back.

“Do you love him?” Beca asked after Chloe had crawled into bed beside her and switched off the light.

“I don’t think so,” was Chloe’s answer. “It’s just… it’s easier, isn’t it? Easier to go along with it and deal with the rough patches than start all over again.”

Beca thought about her relationship with Jesse. About how much they had argued and fought until they finally called it quits.

“Yeah,” Beca said. “I guess. You know you don’t have to just suffer through it though, if you’re unhappy.”

“I know,” Chloe said. “I just… I don’t want to be alone.”

“You wouldn’t be alone,” Beca said, reaching her hand out and linking it with Chloe’s. “Not while I’m here.”

She brushed her thumb across Chloe’s knuckles, and felt the redhead squeeze her hand in response.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Beca said. “Not yet. You need to get some rest first.”

Beca felt Chloe squeeze her hand again. “I love you, Becs. You know that right?”

“I know,” Beca said. “I love you too.”

[druidx]

Find the Word Tag Game

Tagged by @spacetimewraithwrites! TY

Tagging back: @strosmkai-rum @spacetimewraithwrites @wildswrites @tetrodotoxincs @odysseywritings @ayzrules @morganwriteblr @my-writblr @bexminx @writingingraves @dreamwishing @aalinaaaaaa @wardenoftheabyss @pleaseloathemyveryexistence @jaguarthecat @catharticallysarcastic

Your words are: Sarcasm, Loath, Warden, Dream

This is from The MOW Files Novel again. Totally not using these tag games to slowly edit this novel, honest.

Angle

"Gonna be a bumpy ride," Asuka murmured. "All hail Saint Chris," Gurn said in agreement. "Activating thrusters, lifting off." With that, Asuka felt the familiar lurch in her gut that indicated they'd left the ground. Her breath quickened, and feeling the swell of excitement and anxiety as though this was her first time. Under Gurn's careful guidance, the ship fought gravity, bucking and swaying with the wind. Vibrations ran through Asuka's hands as Gurn added more and more thrust, until they were shooting at an angle through the cloud layer then out into the space beyond, cerulean peeling away to darkness. She let out a gust of breath, leaning back in her chair to better see the blackness with it's salting of planets and stars. Asuka glanced at Gurn, grinning. He shot her a grin back. "We have successfully left atmo'," Gurn said, out of procedural habit. "Leaving gravity well of Callisto. Heading: straight on 'till morning."

Ask

"Well, I know the plan. We will be fine. Aren't we always?" Gurn said. "Sure," Asuka said. She fixed on a smile and rang the doorbell. It was answered by a large muscled man dressed in a well fitting suit. "Can I help you?" came a gravelly voice. "Asuka Rackell," she introduced herself, "and her escort, Gurn Tepper, here to see Dr Grey." The big guy nodded and stepped back. "You're expected. Please, come in." The pair entered and stood in the hallway. "Please wait here. I will go and nform Dr Grey you've arrived." Asuka smiled. "Of course." The butler left, and the pair turned their attention to the hallway walls, covered in paintings of all styles. "You see it?" Asuka asked, and glanced at Gurn. "No" he murmured, eyes still fixed on the walls. "Ah my dear Asuka!" came Dr Grey's voice from behind them. "I am so glad you could make it." "Oh," said Asuka turning. "Dr Grey. We are delighted to be here! I just love all your paintings." She waved a hand at the pictures. "Tell, me are you a collector?" "I am," Dr Grey said. "But I don't focus on one style or whatnot, simply what I find pleasing." "I see," said Asuka. "You simply must show them to me." She smiled and delicately placed her hand on his arm. He gave it a glance. "Of course," Grey said. "When I give you the grand tour. But first, let us eat. You must be hungry." Asuka nodded her agreement. "Famished," she said, smiling as though there was nothing in her head except lightly perfumed air and rainbow kittens.

Air

The pair gathered their coats as headed towards the exit, in the crowd of other patrons. As they stood outside in the chilly night air Gurn considered how they would get home. "Can I call you a cab?" he asked gallantly. "No." Ressa giggled. "But you may try and order me one." She reached for his hand and gave it a small squeeze. "You aren't likely to have much luck though. Cabs tend to stop running around here this late." "Oh. I had better walk you home then," Gurn said. Ressa turned to him, placing a hand on his chest. "That is so sweet of you," she said, "but really not necessary. I can walk myself home just fine." "It is no problem, really," Gurn said with a shy smile. "I want to."

Alive

[Brianna said,] "Oh and I suppose you're all set with a fantastically cunning plan? A plan so cunning, that if it were alive it would be Professor of Cunning at a university and head of MOW's Special Division of Cunning Planning. And I suppose, that armed with this plan that is so tremendously cunning, all you're waiting for is your precious Asuka to get back? Because if you're still here, then she obviously isn't. So you're waiting before you can fly off into the sunset and perform your stupendously cunning plan. Yes?" Gurn wasn't sure what to say to that.

Age

"Points of interest include: Three homes, a modest collection of fine art, a large collection of books on finance and the history thereof, a very fine silver and sapphire necklace, and a collection of handwritten journals dating through his adult life." Dakar placed the paper down, and held up the bag. "These are the keys to what we presume are the properties and items therein. We labelled what we could, but I'm sure you'll figure out what the rest are for. And this-" Dakar took hold of a box and set it in the centre of his desk, frowning in perplexment. "This I have no idea about. All I know is that your Father requested I keep it safe for you. He never told me what was it in and I have never opened it. He never specified when I should give it to you, however this seems like an appropriate time, don't you think?" Dakar took off his glasses and leant back in his chair. "Huh," Asuka said, examining it. The box was the size of a hardback book, rectangular with rounded corners, and made out of a wood she didn't recognise. It was old, covered with the distinct patina of age. There were no markings beside a brass key hole. Asuka glanced up to see Dakar thumbing through sets of keys. "There doesn't seem to be anything to open it with here," he said. "I know," Asuka murmured, as she recalled her eighteenth birthday. Her father had taken her out to dinner, and presented her with a small box. On opening it, Asuka had found a little key on a silver chain. At the time she had been disappointed, but her Father said it was very important. He had been so insistent she wear it, Asuka had not removed it in seven years. Now she undid the necklace clasp. The key slotted perfectly into its lock, the sound of unused tumblers clicking as she turned it. With a glance at Dakar, Asuka lifted the lid.

[aliciameade]

Full Reveal

Title: Full Reveal Author: aliciameade Rating: E for Extra Fun Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Chloe and her [very famous] girlfriend Beca escape into anonymity at a Las Vegas burlesque performance, though the show has other plans for them that stir up some playful feelings of jealousy and possessiveness that beg to be addressed.

Also on AO3

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“Ladies? If you’d follow me?”

“I saw that,” Chloe teases in Beca’s ear, fingertips tickling Beca’s lower back through her sheer black shirt.

Beca’s response is little more than a side-eye and a smirk as she shoos Chloe’s hand away. Chloe takes no offense, of course. They are less than alone as a concierge leads them through a dark, sultry hallway teeming with people in various states of inebriation. Their escort is an attractive blonde wearing a black three-piece suit and stilettos, though she seems to have forgotten to don the shirt beneath the vest to leave ample cleavage on display and Beca hadn’t been very discreet about looking at it.

They’re in Las Vegas for the weekend. Beca is there ostensibly for work—she’s performing tomorrow night at Mandalay Bay—but when she’s not scheduled for soundcheck, press, meet and greets, and the concert itself, the weekend is for the two of them. They’ve sacrificed the privacy and seclusion of the embarrassingly large home they share in Malibu in favor of a weekend of fun. 

They’d sacrificed anonymity years ago when Beca decided, with the support of their friends, to take the leap into becoming a solo artist, leaving behind the frustrating and often unfulfilling career in music production she thought she’d been made for.

It turned out that performing was a lot more fun for her.

The paychecks were also a lot bigger.

And Chloe was by her side for the breakneck launch of Beca’s new career, quietly smiling as she trailed a few steps behind on red carpets, tucked herself into corners of green rooms while Beca entertained VIPs after concerts, and watched her girlfriend present at award shows from backstage monitors.

The general public doesn’t know who Beca is dating, or if she is dating anyone at all. She doesn’t talk about having a current relationship in interviews, just tales of bad ones in her past. There are plenty of rumors and theories, and some people are correct in their hypothesis that the friend often accompanying Beca to parties or seen grabbing coffee or grocery shopping with is more than just a friend.

It’s a privacy thing for Beca. She is out and proud, finally, and she had decided she didn’t owe the public more of her than she was already giving them. Chloe respected that decision; she waited so long for Beca, she probably would have agreed to the wildest of terms if it meant finally being in a relationship with the woman. But simply keeping their relationship status away from the public wasn’t a big ask. Their friends and family knew. Beca’s team knew. But the public was left to its own conjecture.

It helped that part of why Beca didn’t want to share that part of her life with the public was because she wanted to protect it.

It was really damn romantic for Chloe.

It’s also fun. It’s like they have alter egos and tonight they are attending the midnight performance of Luxury X Lace in a small cabaret venue in the depths of a massive casino as nothing more than two friends having a girls’ night out in the city that never sleeps. It was the hottest ticket in a town full of hot tickets, an X-rated burlesque that confiscated cell phones at the door in exchange for your choice of black, silver, or gold masquerade masks to help strip patrons of their identity and inhibitions and immerse them into a world of high-end debauchery.

Beca’s publicist had made a phone call and Beca and her good friend Chloe were invited to the Friday night performance. Phones were exchanged for masks—black for Beca and silver for Chloe—to be led into the cabaret hall.

It’s far more intimate than Chloe had expected. There are a dozen tables arranged around the X-shaped stage and three lines of booths curving around the wall behind the tables. The stage is empty save for a single black chair positioned at the center of it. Music pulses around them.

They are shown to the center booth on the first level, something Chloe suspects is likely the choice seat in the venue. She’s been with Beca long enough to recognize plenty of such perks.

She prefers other types of perks that come with being with Beca, though. Like the way Beca’s hand immediately comes to rest on Chloe’s bare knee just below the hem of Chloe’s gray pleated skirt. Chloe smiles to herself and peruses the themed cocktail menu, content with their proximity and connection. She knows there will be more tonight once they are back in the privacy of their suite at the Mandalay.

“What are you thinking?”

Chloe lets herself smirk, knowing Beca will see it and read exactly what Chloe was thinking, though she knows that wasn’t what Beca was asking. “I think I’m going to try this one, the ‘Satin Sheets,’” she says, tapping on the menu before rotating it so Beca can choose as well.

She watches other patrons arrive to be shown to their tables, the air of excitement growing around them as scantily clad waitresses start to weave their way from table to table collecting drink orders. They spend time flirting with everyone and Chloe notices the way they don’t hesitate to offer a friendly touch to their customer: a playful nudge of a shoulder, fingers through the short hair of the men, winks, and close examinations of manicures or rings on the women.

When a blonde arrives at their table, Chloe thinks that perhaps they will be exempt from this flirtation. Their seating in the booth is not conducive to a waitress sidling up next to someone as can be done at a table and chairs on an open floor, but to compensate, the waitress simply slides into the booth next to Chloe and offers a well-practiced sultry smile.

“Hello, ladies. My name is Jasmine, and I’ll be sure you’re well taken care of tonight.”

Chloe thinks Jasmine might recognize Beca, even with the mask. There’s a bit of a hesitation in the way her eyes linger on Beca. Or maybe she’s just appreciating Beca’s eyes and lips and jawline the same way Chloe does. Or maybe she’s just working on a good tip. But Chloe knows they are in the high roller seat and it wouldn’t take much for the waitress to connect the dots. And that means she and Beca need to be best friends. Not girlfriends.

“Hi, Jasmine,” Chloe offers and can’t help her smile when the attractive woman leans in to slowly wrap a lock of her red hair around a finger.

“I love this color,” Jasmine purrs and even though Chloe knows exactly what the waitress is doing, her own natural inclination to flirt responds.

“It’s natural,” she purrs right back, leaning into her space. She can feel Beca’s blunt fingernails press into her knee before her hand disappears. That is another perk to their secret romance: getting to experience Beca’s possessiveness. It rivals her own for Beca.

“Can you prove it?” The waitress lets her eyes drop unabashedly to Chloe’s lap before they’re back on her eyes.

“Yes, she can.” 

Chloe sees the amusement on Jasmine’s face at Beca’s interjection and the waitress backs off, interpreting Beca’s answer as asserting her dominance.

Beca asserting her dominance is nothing new. She’s been good at that since she was in college. Taking control of situations. Putting people in their place. Making people listen to what she has to say.

She asserts it everywhere but in the bedroom that she shares with Chloe.

Jasmine is unfazed by Beca, even if she does stop touching Chloe. Her demeanor is still dark and flirtatious and she redirects her attention to Beca. “Mmm, I love your voice.”

Chloe’s sure Jasmine knows now. In fact, it’s entirely possible that every employee of the production knows that Beca Mitchell is their special guest this evening. That is often the case if they attend some type of event when Beca insists she makes the calls to get the best seats and the backstage access and whatever else she thinks Chloe should have.

Chloe’s attention shifts to Beca and her reaction, but she’s well-versed in this act as well. Chloe’s bared witness to Beca emerging from her cocoon of early adulthood and her wavering confidence and awkwardness. Chloe knows Beca can charm her way into anyone’s pants nowadays, with or without the game.

She charms her way into Chloe’s on a regular basis.

“Then you’d love how it sounds moaning your name. Jasmine, was it?” Beca’s voice drips over the waitress’s name and Chloe feels her own thighs clench at her tone.

Chloe tries to mask her reaction—arousal and amusement—by adjusting the way her hair sits over her shoulders. She knows this is a game for them. It’s hot to watch Beca flirt with other women knowing it’s Chloe’s skirt that her hand will be up on the way home. So many people wanting her girlfriend but her girlfriend only wants her.

God, she can’t wait to get back to their room tonight.

“She’s going to have the Satin Sheets,” Beca continues, ordering Chloe’s drink for her. “And I’ll take the...Pillow Princess,” she concludes.

Chloe’s no fool. She knows why Beca chose that one; she knew she would the moment Chloe saw it on the menu.

Maybe Chloe really, really likes it when Beca uses her tongue. And maybe Beca likes using it just as much. Chloe’s not ashamed one bit that she asks for it with the frequency that she does.

“A perfect combination,” Jasmine says, reaching across the table just to graze her fingers over Beca’s knuckles. Working extra hard earning the big tip from the celebrity table. “I’ll be right back.” Her exit is as practiced and graceful as her appearance was and Chloe feels Beca’s hand back on her knee, maybe an inch or so higher than it was before.

“You’re such a flirt,” Beca says with a sly smile. She knows the game, well, too.

“Well, she has great tits,” Chloe answers with a shrug, playing along with their evening of Gal Pals.

That manages to ruffle Beca's feathers the tiniest bit, and she knew it would. Cleavage is something Beca definitely excels at and it’s on display tonight thanks to the black push-up bra she’s wearing beneath her sleeveless sheer black top. Chloe had unbuttoned it almost completely while they were in the elevator, leaving only the last three buttons remaining fastened. It created a wonderful peek-a-boo effect, sometimes revealing bare skin, sometimes not, and she’d given in to the temptation to press her lips to the swell of Beca’s right breast before the doors had opened. She can still see the faint imprint of her lipstick on it when the light catches it.

Beca narrows her eyes and pointedly brushes one side of her open blouse aside as a reminder of her own assets—as if Chloe could ever forget—and Chloe lets her eyes roam over the expanse of skin, tongue wetting her lips with obvious want.

That seems to rectify the situation. The corners of Beca’s mouth twitch and Chloe has to bite her lip at the way Beca’s fingers suddenly sweep up her inner thigh to graze between her legs before her hands are both above the table to accept the drinks their waitress has already returned with.

“Enjoy,” Jasmine says with a wink before departing once more.

“Mmm, we will,” Chloe says as she takes hers in her hand. “Shall we toast?”

Beca nods and lifts her glass as well. “To what?”

“To seeing where the night takes us.”

Beca’s mouth pulls into the attractive smirk Chloe fell in love with so many years ago. “What happens in Vegas…” she says and taps her glass to Chloe’s.

They drink together as the lights dim until the room is in near darkness. Under the safety of the shadows, Beca presses herself closer, her fingers moving absently but sweetly over and along Chloe’s knee and thigh. Not progressing. Just touching. Chloe lets her arm slip over Beca’s shoulders, something that is more conspicuous, but the only people who know who Beca is are those focused on putting on a show. 

A single spotlight hits the chair center stage and a figure emerges from the darkness behind it, dark hair, long legs, sparkling lingerie, platform stilettos.

They watch the performance in silence. It’s a mixture of blatant sex appeal and tongue-in-cheek humor, the performers—mostly women but a few men—each having their own unique talents and schticks, an androgynous emcee by the name of Angel guiding the audience through the evening.

Angel is funny and personable as they flirt with patrons and performers alike, cracking one-liners between performances.

Chloe watches as several performers make their way out of the wings and onto the stage until the X is occupied by eight women in matching sparkling red lace lingerie, a ninth waiting at the center wearing a black leather bustier, thigh-high boots, and holding a riding crop.

Her appearance earns a particularly boisterous round of cheers from the audience and Chloe has to admit that the woman is the most attractive person on stage, all legs and tits and long, purposely mussed blond hair.

Beca’s fingers have stopped wandering. Instead, they’re tapping along to the beat of the music. She finds rhythms woven and hidden in the instrumentals that Chloe would never hear if not for Beca’s keen ear. The soundtrack for the evening largely consists of remixes of popular songs. They’re recognizable but without the vocals, not distracting.

“And now, ladies, gentlemen, neither, both, and those yet-to-decide,” Angel says with a dramatic flourish as they slowly turn in place as if addressing each person individually, “Scarlet needs a victim—I mean, a volunteer.” 

A murmur of excitement rolls through the audience and Chloe thinks she feels Angel’s attention land squarely on their table. She can’t be sure due to the lighting; it’s possible they’re eyeing everyone in the room to increase the tension. Chloe can feel it in the way the initial excitement is now silent other than the thumping bass of a remix of a remix of a song Chloe can’t quite put her finger on in her pleasantly inebriated, slightly distracted state.

Beca seems to recognize the song, the tapping on Chloe’s knee shifting to one of confidence. It registers with her just as she senses Beca turning as if to whisper something in her ear but Chloe beats her to it.

“Hey, this is your—” is all she gets out before a lace-clad woman is taking Beca’s hand to invite her out of the booth. 

“It seems we have a volunteer!” Angel initiates an encouraging round of applause from the audience.

Chloe watches with equal parts amusement and trepidation as her very famous and very secret girlfriend is led—willingly, she notices—down through the tables and toward the stage while a version of one of Beca’s biggest hits thumps and swirls around the room. She wonders if Beca knew this was going to happen for as ready as she was to slide out of the booth to be taken to the stage where Chloe watches her climb the three steps.

“I didn’t tell you to sit,” Scarlet chastises as soon as Beca moves to sit on the chair in the center of the stage.

It makes Beca laugh and stand up straight, hands clasped in front of her.

“You didn’t even let me give you a proper welcome,” the new host says with a shake of her head and Chloe can tell she’s looking Beca up and down appreciatively.

“Sorry.” Chloe can’t really hear Beca; she doesn’t have a microphone as Scarlet does, but she sees it on her lips.

“Did I ask you to speak?” Scarlet scoffs toward the audience, causing laughter to bubble up from the tables. “Now, what should I call you?” She extends the microphone to Beca who hesitates before speaking.

The premise of the club is anonymity to allow everyone to indulge in their dark desires, but she still answers, “Beca.”

It makes Chloe’s heart stop. She knows it will take people a matter of seconds before they figure it out. She might be wearing a mask, but with her song playing and saying her name, there’s no hiding exactly who has been selected for the main event. She’s grateful that cell phones were confiscated upon arrival. If they hadn’t, she knows this would be broadcast on Instagram Live. The excitement in the room is palpable as the audience puts the pieces together.

“Beca? Everyone, let’s give Beca a warm welcome.”

The applause is not a polite smattering this time. It’s boisterous and full of whistles and shouts and Chloe just sits forward to prop her chin on her clasped hands. This wasn’t how she expected their night to go.

“Okay, Beca,” Scarlet says, her stance so casual despite her costume, “would you like to sit down?”

Beca moves to sit and yelps when Scarlet makes quick work of the riding crop. It was so quick Chloe didn’t even see it but she’d clearly used it to stop Beca from taking a seat.

“I didn’t tell you to sit. I asked if you would like to sit.” Scarlet shakes her head as she says it and the audience laughs, fully engaged in watching pop star Beca Mitchell get womanhandled. “You see, Beca, I’m the one in charge here.”

And womanhandled she gets. Scarlet’s hand, the one not holding her microphone, is on the back of Beca’s neck and wandering across her shoulders and into her hair in a way that makes Beca visibly shiver. It also makes Chloe clench her jaw.

“I know you’re a woman who holds a lot of power, but something tells me you like to give up control now and then. Am I right?”

There are teasing whistles when Beca laughs and says, “Yeah,” into the microphone.

“I think you mean, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

“Yes, ma’am,” Beca repeats.

“Good. Obedient,” Scarlet praises, starting to circle Beca slowly though still managing to not stop touching her. “So you’re going to listen to me, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl. Now sit.” A hand in the center of Beca’s chest pushes her down into the chair. It makes the audience whistle again.

Beca makes eye contact with Chloe once Scarlet is out of the way and flashes a smile and the small hand gesture they came up with shortly after they began dating, something they could do inconspicuously to let the other know, ‘The situation is okay, not to worry, I love you.’ They use it on red carpets, at press junkets, interviews, and appearances. Chloe was always so worried Beca was being pressured into sharing more than she wanted to or getting upset that people would confront Beca about dating rumors on national television. It was a good solution and one that has grown to have a deeper meaning for them both as time has passed.

It helps Chloe relax. It means Beca’s fine. That she did, in fact, probably agree to this in advance when she made the arrangements to attend. Chloe sits back in her seat though is no less attentive to how Scarlet is touching Beca. 

It’s fifteen minutes of amusement and agony for Chloe as she watches Scarlet entertain the audience by catching Beca misbehaving, taking action before being given permission to do so, or forgetting to say, “Yes, ma’am.” It’s particularly painful when Scarlet’s stiletto thigh-high boot gets planted on the seat of the chair right between Beca’s thighs. She’s instructed to kiss it and Chloe watches with rapt attention as Beca hesitates before doing so, kissing Scarlet’s knee.

Chloe doesn’t like it, not one bit. But she does enjoy it, which is more than a little confusing. The one thing she is sure of is that she wants the show to end so they can go back to their room where Chloe can show Beca just how much she enjoyed her performance.

It’s fifteen minutes of Beca being ordered to her knees, to lie down, to stand up, to answer questions, sometimes messing up and getting swatted across her ass with Scarlet’s riding crop. It’s entertaining for everyone, Beca included who is smiling most of the time, except when she’s ordered to wipe it off her face. Everyone is entertained by the sexy blond dominatrix making sexual innuendos with Chloe’s girlfriend, touching her, spanking her, making her laugh, and assuredly blush as the crowd gets way more than they paid for. Not just a night at Luxury X Lace but fifteen minutes of Beca Mitchell, whose concert tickets top out in the $500 range for premium seats, being sexually teased and willingly degraded.

By the time it’s over and Beca’s sliding back into their booth, Chloe has to check to see if her own fingernails have made her palms bleed from clenching her fists so hard.

“Was that fun?” she asks, making no effort to hide her irritation from her voice.

It doesn’t seem to bother Beca, though, who ignores the question and leans in to kiss Chloe. It’s hard and demanding and not something they should be doing in public and Beca’s hand returning to her thigh under the edge of her skirt makes Chloe forget why she was annoyed in the first place.

“Everything okay?” Beca asks when they part after a few more seconds.

“Um,” Chloe feels dazed, “yeah. Um...people?” She reminds tilting her head toward the rest of the seating area.

Beca just smiles and slides her hand higher up Chloe’s skirt. “No one’s watching us.”

It makes Chloe grab Beca’s hand to stop it and turn to look around. Beca’s right. The show is continuing and even though Beca’s cover is blown, their privacy in the booth remains in-tact. The audience is more interested in the mostly naked women and men on stage, not what the celebrity is getting up to with her secret girlfriend at the burlesque show.

“Oh, my God,” Chloe breathes. She can’t believe she’s agreeing to what Beca so immediately suggested upon her return. But something about what she watched did things to her. Turned her on. Made her want to remind Beca who was really the one in charge, and their name isn’t Scarlet. She nods and kisses Beca again while releasing Beca’s hand to let her do what she wants.

Beca’s smooth about it. They’ve had years to memorize perfect angles, perfect rhythms, and Chloe hates (and kind of loves) that Beca pulls back from their kiss to watch Chloe’s masked face respond to her fingers moving up and slipping beneath her lace thong.

Beca’s smile is annoying and Chloe knows exactly what she’s thinking: Chloe is way too wet for two minutes of kissing. She’s been enjoying the show. Specifically, Beca’s role in it.

“Fuck,” she quietly laughs, pressing a quick kiss to Beca’s lips before turning her attention back to the performance. She knows they could probably get away with a lot more than Beca’s hand up her skirt, but that’s what makes it fun. The game. Will they get caught? Will the world finally know who Beca’s talented, multi-million-dollar mouth is making come nearly every night?

She feels Beca settle comfortably next to her, one hand lifting her drink to her lips, the other pressing two fingers into Chloe to start fucking her slowly. Chloe hates that she knows Beca’s intentions: if she hadn’t done that, if she’d just kept her fingers teasing Chloe’s clit, she’d be coming in a matter of a few minutes.

But she won’t now, not like this. Not with Beca fucking her almost leisurely, a slow pace that reaches as deep as the angle allows. She hikes up her left knee to prop her foot against the leg of the table and open herself wider. It doesn’t make Beca move any more quickly, but it does help her push deeper.

It makes Chloe’s head tilt back to rest against the booth. She doesn’t need to watch the performance. No one cares. No one’s watching them. The music is loud and Angel is narrating and people are applauding and Chloe lets herself moan.

She slips her arm behind Beca’s shoulders to keep her close, playing with her hair to make her shiver as Scarlet had. But it’s Chloe whom Beca is fucking in public. Not Scarlet. The thought makes her fingers twist and they tug maybe a little too hard on Beca’s hair because she hears her gasp in her ear.

Chloe wonders how long Beca will torture her. She’s so turned on but Beca’s not driving her any closer to her climax. It’s a prolonged plateau and Chloe starts to feel that it’s less about getting her off and more about Beca wanting to do something risque when people know who she is.

It’s not the first time; they’ve snuck off to bathrooms and coat check rooms many times over the years for quick fun, but Beca has never been this bold.

She clenches around Beca’s fingers and feels them curl inside her. She thinks it might encourage Beca to speed up but instead, she pulls out completely.

It makes Chloe’s head snap up, ready to complain about the loss only to open her eyes to Beca sucking on her fingers before she’s clapping enthusiastically along with the rest of the audience and dropping a trio of hundred-dollar bills on the table to tip their waitress.

The show is over and Chloe has no idea how it ended. She doesn’t care. All she cares about is how much she needs to come and how quickly they can get back to their hotel.

People are still clapping when their escort upon arrival appears. “Ladies? Let’s get you out before the mass exodus.”

Beca finishes off her drink and scoots out of the booth, reaching back for a slow-to-move Chloe to take her hand and help her. Chloe isn’t drunk, far from it in fact. But she’s so aroused she’s not thinking very clearly and smiles her appreciation as Beca helps her out and to her feet.

Her mind clears a bit as they walk, though she can feel how wet and swollen Beca’s made her with every step she takes. She’s grateful for the early exit; Beca no longer being anonymous means she is fair game to anyone who can get to her. They’re led not the way they entered but through a side door that drops them right next to the desk where they’d checked in. Phones returned but masks retained, they turn to make their way out of the casino.

“What were you thinking?” Chloe asks as they walk with notable speed through the maze of slot machines following signs pointing toward the exit.

Beca’s smile is really more than a smirk. “Are you complaining?”

Chloe doesn’t really have an answer to that. She’s not complaining. Maybe some notice about being the featured guest would have been nice, but she doesn’t want to talk about celebrity life and privacy right now.

Right now, she needs Beca to finish what she started.

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. Then, driven by need and adrenaline and the fact that word has probably not yet spread that Beca Mitchell is in that particular casino and they still have their masks, she pulls Beca aside and up against the side of a bank of slot machines to kiss her.

She wants to do it right there. She wants to tell Beca to kneel like she did for Scarlet and put her head under her skirt and make her scream in front of everyone.

Instead, she kisses Beca hard, tongue and teeth and hands on her ass until it’s Beca who moans this time.

Chloe pulls away abruptly just as Beca had when the show ended and it’s her turn to smirk at how disoriented and aroused Beca looks. “Come on,” she says as she takes her hand and pulls them toward the path to the exit once again.

It takes longer than it should to get back to the Mandalay Bay. If they could manage to make it more than two blocks without someone being pushed against a wall, a planter, or a vending machine to make out, it would only be a fifteen-minute walk.

Instead, they’re finally in the elevator forty-five minutes later behaving themselves because there are three other people riding up with them. They both know they’ll be the last ones off; Beca’s suite is on one of the uppermost floors. It makes Chloe tingle with anticipation because she knows it’s going to be a competition of who does what first as soon as they are alone.

It’s Chloe who wins. The last person steps off and before the doors are even closed, she has Beca against the rear wall of the elevator, tongue in her mouth and hands up her shirt and under her bra. They have six floors to go which is only a matter of seconds but it’s long enough to make Beca say, “God, I need you,” when it ends and the doors open.

They’ve had their share of rushing down hotel hallways to lock themselves in increasingly upscale rooms to ravage one another and this time is no different. It’s a choreographed dance at this point. Chloe’s the one who has the key out and ready because Beca usually can’t find hers or can’t focus long enough to insert it.

Chloe’s able to unlock it by touch at this point because so often she has Beca pressed up against the door, sometimes kissing her, sometimes breathing hotly in her ear while her hand wanders to indecent places. With a quick click, the door swings open and they spill into the palatial suite. It’s a dance as well, removing shoes while careful not to trip over each other or furniture or bags as Beca pulls her mask off and tosses it aside, followed by Chloe’s before she’s pulling Chloe down onto the oversized couch in the center of the room.

“Can’t even wait ‘til we get to bed?” Chloe asks with a smiling kiss before she moves back so she can unbutton Beca’s jeans.

“Whatever,” Beca says. She arches her back and reaches under herself and Chloe watches her strip away her bra, pulling it out through her shirt.

“I was getting to that. No, leave it,” Chloe adds when Beca starts to unbutton the sheer top. It leaves nothing to the imagination, but seeing Beca without her bra, perfect curves and stiff nipples Chloe knows she’ll have her mouth on soon enough… 

Beca stops what she’s doing and instead lifts her hips to help Chloe peel her jeans and underwear away.

“You were trying to make me jealous,” Chloe says matter-of-factly as she yanks the tight jeans from Beca’s feet with a little more force than is necessary.

Beca’s holding herself up on her elbows and she looks entirely too proud of herself. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t believe you let everyone know who you were.” Chloe’s hands start making their way up Beca’s bare legs, parting them to make room so she can back up and lie down between them. She settles Beca’s knees over her shoulders to kiss her inner thigh. It makes Beca shiver and sends hands down to tangle in Chloe’s hair. “And I can’t believe you fucked me.” Another kiss, higher, to make Beca’s breathing quicken. “Anyone could have caught us. Think of the headlines: ‘Beca Mitchell caught red-handed...knuckles deep in her best friend’s sopping pussy.’”

She can tell Beca wants to laugh but it comes out as a moan of impatience instead. Tired of waiting herself, Chloe shifts higher to tease her tongue against Beca’s clit.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Beca groans, pulling hair and lifting her hips as if she’s the one who had been left needing more at the show. Her impatience means Chloe’s done a good job turning the tables on her little stunt.

“Did you like that woman spanking you?” Chloe knows she’s toeing a line. They both might be, but she was jealous. And she is turned on.

Beca’s hesitation is telling and she finally nods when Chloe licks her again. “Yeah.”

“Did you like her telling you what to do?”

The answer is immediate this time. “Yes. Fuck, Chlo, please.” She lifts her hips again wanting more of what Chloe is withholding.

Chloe’s going to come back to the conversation. For now, she has needs and she needs to make Beca come. She’s never been able to resist her long, not when she begs her in that voice, not when she pulls Chloe’s face between her legs pleading Chloe to fuck her.

She’s not going to torture her the way Beca did. She has a second need which is to make Beca finish what she started, but she will deal with one thing at a time.

Beca is wet under her tongue and Chloe wraps her arms around her thighs to hold her, one hand gripping her thigh, the other parting Beca to be able to lick exactly where she knows Beca likes it. Fast. Focused. Exactly what it takes for Beca to— 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come already, I hate you.” She moans as she says it and Chloe can taste the way she’s starting to unravel.

It makes her smile. Beca doesn’t hate her. Not one bit. Quite the opposite, in fact, and Chloe takes pride that it still annoys Beca that Chloe can get her off so quickly. And it’s not that she’s annoyed that Chloe’s good, it’s that she doesn’t want it to end.

(Though rarely does it end after just one orgasm from Beca.)

She savors Beca’s voice in her ears and taste on her tongue and eases her down from her quick, surprisingly intense climax.

Though maybe not so surprising when she thinks about how desperate Beca had been after her little game of Scarlet Says. Which reminds her…

“Get up.” She says it with an edge to her voice as she sits up and moves back from between Beca’s legs.

It’s clear Beca’s startled by the sudden mood change and her eyes are wide as she stares down her half-naked body, chest still heaving as she’s not yet recovered. “Dude, what the fuck?” she bites. She’s not just startled, she’s incensed by Chloe ripping away from her the way she did. It’s not normal behavior by any means.

It’s precarious; Chloe knows it. She’s springing some kind of role-play on Beca without talking about it first and she’s ready to drop it if Beca pushes back again. She levels her gaze to look directly at Beca. “I told you to get up.”

There’s the slightest twitch to Beca’s lips and Chloe knows she’s realized what’s happening. With a nod, she sits up and somewhat tiredly pushes herself up to her feet and turns around to face Chloe.

Chloe eyes her as she gets herself situated on the couch, turning to sit properly and makes a bit of a show of crossing her legs primly. She’s still fully clothed unlike her girlfriend waiting for directions wearing nothing but her half-unbuttoned sheer blouse that stops at her hips.

“I didn’t realize you like being told what to do so much,” Chloe says airly. She wants to keep Beca unsteady. They’ve played with power dynamics in the bedroom before, of course. After this long, there’s not much they haven’t tried. But they had never pushed it to the point of commands and obedience. “I guess I’m not that surprised,” she continues, smiling at memories of how Beca had reacted to simple requests in the bedroom in the past. She hadn’t explored it further. There wasn’t a need to; someone usually came minutes later. Now she understands why.

Beca takes a breath like she’s about to speak but instead snaps her jaw closed.

It makes Chloe’s eyebrows lift. She hadn’t had to do much of anything and Beca has already fallen into her role, primed, no doubt, by the events at the burlesque show.

“Did you like that woman touching you?” she asks. When Beca doesn’t answer, she has to work not to smile. “You can answer me when I ask you a question.”

“I didn’t know it was going to be like that,” Beca answers. “I thought they were just going to ask me questions and give me a lap dance or something.”

Chloe finds it endearing the way Beca’s trying to defend herself. Chloe’s not upset about it; a hair bothered, maybe, but nothing worth getting mad about. Possessive, though...it’s definitely worth reminding Beca who’s been in her bed every night. “That isn’t what I asked,” Chloe says as she leans back casually. “I asked if you liked it when that woman touched you.”

She can see Beca trying to choose the right words, which is amusingly telling. “It was...fun,” is what she decides to answer.

Chloe looks at her in surprise. “Fun? I’ll show you fun. On your knees.” She snaps and points at the floor as she says it and watches as Beca sinks to kneel obediently on the plush carpet. It’s thrilling to watch and does more for her than she thought it would. “Come here,” she continues with a crook of her finger.

“Yes, ma’am,” Beca says as she shuffles forward until she’s as close as she can be, Chloe’s right leg crossed over the left stopping her from getting any closer. 

Her response is spine-tingling. Chloe wants to draw this out; she wants to see just how obedient Beca can be, but her patience is thin after being so aroused for so long with no release. She can save that for another day. “Would you like to know what I want you to do?” She teases Beca’s bare stomach with her toe as she says it.

“I bet you’re about to tell me,” Beca says as she squirms a little; she’s ticklish there and Chloe knows it.

“Sassy.”

Beca shrugs.

“Let’s give your mouth something better to do.” She uncrosses her legs as she says it and enjoys the way Beca’s eyes fall automatically to look, though Chloe knows she can’t see anything. Not with her skirt resting how it is. “You ruined my underwear at the show. The least you could do is take them off me.”

She can see the way Beca’s eyelashes flutter; she’s excited and ready as she reaches for Chloe, hands sliding up her thighs to hook her fingers into the waistband of Chloe’s thong to pull it down. She lifts her hips to let it slip out from under her and watches Beca pull it the rest of the way down her legs until she’s tossing it over her shoulder with more confidence than someone ordered to her knees ought to have, but Chloe doesn’t mind. Not when Beca’s hands almost reach for Chloe’s thighs again but stops herself and they fall back to her own naked lap.

“So patient,” Chloe smiles. Beca giving up control like this is turning Chloe on far more than she had expected and she knows she isn’t going to last very long. She parts her knees and hikes up her skirt. Not too much. Just enough that Beca will be able to see how much she needs her. “But I’m not.”

Beca’s eyes snap up to meet Chloe’s and she can see the excitement in them, the desire to please Chloe in more ways than one.

“I want you to make me come”—she pauses to glance at her non-existent watch—“in less than five minutes.” When Beca doesn’t move, she adds, “The clock is ticking.”

She can tell Beca is amused by the challenge, even excited by it as her hands do what they had probably meant to do after stripping Chloe of her underwear: land on Chloe’s knees to part them before they slide higher, pushing Chloe’s skirt with them.

Chloe leans back, relaxing into the couch as she spreads her legs wider until she decides to bring her right foot up to rest on the edge of the couch, knee fully bent, holding her ankle to keep it there. It opens her up splendidly and she watches with rapt attention as Beca shifts closer, tongue already at her lips as she leans down.

Chloe can’t help the moan that comes with the first touch of Beca’s tongue. She’s been waiting for it for hours, really since they left the hotel to attend the show. 

Beca seems to take her directive seriously if the way she’s using her tongue is anything to judge by. She’s lapping at Chloe in exactly the way Chloe likes it the most: messy and lewd, her arousal audible in the way her clit slips from Beca’s lips when she sucks on it. She likes it because Beca’s so passionate about making her feel good, and her passion only makes Chloe want it more.

She weaves the fingers of her free hand through Beca’s soft hair, watching as Beca fucks her perfectly. “Just like that,” she sighs as she lets her hips start rocking. “Use your fingers, too, baby.”

They both groan as Beca sinks two fingers into her and she clenches around them. As soon as she relaxes, Beca is fucking her, hard, and it makes her gasp. She hadn’t been ready for that, forgetting for a moment about her self-imposed deadline.

“Beca, fuck,” she moans, ass coming off the couch from the sudden onslaught of pleasure and she watches as Beca ducks her shoulder under the leg Chloe isn’t holding so she can tuck herself even closer. Her fingers twist in Beca’s hair and it might be too tight but it doesn’t seem to bother her. “So good,” she says and feels Beca’s tongue flicking at her clit impossibly faster. “You’re so good,” she repeats and feels her fingers speed up, too.

She knows Beca likes being praised. It’s served them both very well in the past and it’s serving Chloe impeccably well right now. Beca moans at the comment and glances up at Chloe through dark eyelashes, eyes meeting before she closes them to lose herself in fucking Chloe.

It doesn’t take long after that. Not with the way Beca starts sucking on her clit and doesn’t let up. “Yes, yes, just like that,” she moans again, grateful for the massive room offering plenty of insulation from the prying ears of the only other room on that floor. “You’re gonna make me come, Beca.”

Beca groans in response and doesn’t change a thing; her pace is relentless and Chloe can feel how hot her body is under her leg from working so hard and she’s so, so grateful for her hard work as her orgasm crashes through her.

Beca’s moaning through it with her and it makes Chloe drop the pretense. She wants Beca. Now. Her cunt is still pulsing around Beca’s fingers when she pulls her up by her hair. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to get the point.

“Come here,” she breathes, pulling Beca in to kiss her wet mouth as she drops her leg back to hang over the edge of the couch and make room for Beca to climb into her lap, straddling her on her knees.

Beca’s hand hasn’t left her with the change in position and though she has less room to move, she’s still working her fingers against Chloe’s overstimulated clit as Chloe reaches between Beca’s legs to slide her fingers into her soaked cunt.

The way Beca moans into Chloe’s mouth through their heated kiss is sinful but not as sinful as the way she immediately starts riding Chloe’s hand. Her hand tangles in Chloe’s hair as her hips roll and grind, all restraint gone as she chases her orgasm.

She’s so far gone that she’s not paying close attention to how hard she’s touching Chloe. It’s borderline painful for a few seconds until something in Chloe clicks and the force becomes delicious and somehow not enough. She grinds the heel of her hand up into Beca, slipping a third finger into her with how wet she’s become, dripping into Chloe’s palm and Chloe knows she’s just as wet. She’s thankful she’s sitting on her skirt. She’d rather pay to dry clean it than reupholster the hotel couch.

“Fuck,” Beca whimpers against Chloe’s lips before her hips suddenly change from riding Chloe’s fingers hard to riding them fast.

Chloe can feel how close she is with the way she’s starting to tremble around her fingers. Beca’s fighting it and she doesn’t know why until she thinks maybe Beca hasn’t dropped the pretense like Chloe had.

She’s waiting for permission.

The concept quickly spools Chloe’s orgasm into a coil ready to spring at any second and she has to fight it, too.

This is hot. This is really hot. She loves when Beca is wild and desperate and there are no other words to describe her right now.

Chloe pulls back from the kiss. “Do you want to come?”

Beca’s jaw drops at the words and Chloe feels her clench hard but the climax doesn’t follow as it normally would. “God, yes,” she exhales after a few seconds. Beca is still fucking them both. Riding Chloe’s fingers. Rubbing Chloe’s clit.

Chloe’s free hand catches Beca’s chin and lifts her head to make eye contact with her. “Ask me nicely.”

She’s not sure she’s ever felt Beca as wet as she is tonight and it doesn’t stop. She thinks she can even feel it increase as soon as she says those words.

“Please,” Beca whines immediately. “Please let me come for you.” She holds Chloe’s stare as she says it and she tightens around Chloe’s fingers again.

Chloe hesitates with her answer. The moment is so intense, so erotic she’s not quite ready to end it. They’re existing on another plane of sex than most of their nights. She hopes it continues through the night.

“Not yet,” she finally answers and Beca almost sobs at the response. “Stand up,” she demands, lifting with the hand between Beca’s legs until Beca’s moving.

“What…?” Beca starts, only to say, “Oh, my God,” when Chloe guides Beca’s left knee up and past her head to rest on the back of the couch.

Chloe pulls her forward with the fingers inside her until she has Beca’s clit against her tongue. Beca’s hands immediately fall to Chloe’s head for balance as she rocks her hips forward into Chloe’s face.

It’s Chloe’s turn to be brutal with the pace of her fingers, fucking up and into Beca as she lets Beca ride her tongue. She knows Beca’s orgasm is going to be massive when she lets her have it and Chloe wants her coming in her mouth.

The change in position bought them a few minutes, distracting Beca long enough that she’s not about to lose it any second but Chloe knows it’s barreling down on her again. “You taste so good,” she says between licks.

Beca moans in answer and Chloe feels the wetness increase again. She can hear it, too. It’s obscene. It sends her other hand between her own legs to pick up where Beca left off.

“I’m going to make myself come,” she says before sucking pointedly on Beca’s clit. “Don’t you dare come with me.”

“What?” Beca laughs somewhat desperately. “Fuck, okay.”

The obedience makes Chloe moan and she fucks herself, rubbing hard circles into her clit. She embellishes her moans to make it even harder for Beca to resist until she’s moaning again and again into Beca’s pussy, coming as Beca clenches around her wantonly. 

She looks up at Beca when it passes but she can’t see her face, not with how Beca’s leaning forward, eyes squeezed closed, face determined and desperate to obey as Chloe comes without her, still fucking her, not letting her let go.

“That felt so good,” she says. “You turn me on so much, Beca.”

“Yeah, same,” Beca answers quickly.

“I think after I let you come…” she says it thoughtfully even as she lavishes attention on Beca’s impossibly swollen clit, “I’m going to take you to bed,” she gives it a long suck, “bend you over,” she curls her fingers and massages them into the spot that makes Beca’s eyes roll back, “and fuck you so hard you’ll feel it at your show tomorrow,” Beca’s entire body is trembling with the need for release, “in front of twelve thousand people and you’ll remember the way you’re going to be such a good girl for me and take my strap all night.”

She knows Beca’s losing her grip on her orgasm. Chloe can feel it starting, pulsing around her fingers and she thinks she might need it as much as Beca does.

“Come for me, Beca,” she says and immediately slides her tongue into her as she withdraws her fingers, using them instead to stroke her clit. She can see Beca’s wetness and how it’s all the way to Chloe’s wrist and she groans as the way Beca’s cunt contracts so hard around her tongue she couldn’t remove it even if she wanted to.

‘Massive’ isn’t the term for it.

Beca’s orgasm is earth-shattering and Chloe’s free hand has to shoot up to press against her chest to keep her from toppling forward and over the back of the couch as it rocks her again and again, voice ringing in Chloe’s ears.

Chloe feels Beca’s knees buckling as it passes and she catches her as she folds until she’s sitting in Chloe’s lap again, slumped against her forehead-to-forehead. Both of them are breathless but Beca’s far more winded and Chloe gives her a chance to recover, hands moving slowly and gently over her back, to her hair which she lifts away from her neck to help her cool down. Her blouse sticks to her skin and she feels kind of bad she didn’t let Beca take it off before, but she hasn’t complained about it.

“Fuck,” Beca finally says with a weak laugh as she lifts her head and sits back enough that they can look at each other comfortably, her hands toying with the hem of Chloe’s shirt, still on despite it all. “What the fuck, Chlo?” She smiles as she says it. She brings her hand up to wipe at Chloe’s face. “You’re a mess.”

Chloe smiles in return and lets Beca clean her off. “Problem?”

Beca cocks her head to the side and huffs again, not quite a laugh. “Uh, no. But can you take this off now? You’re overdressed.” She tugs at Chloe’s shirt and Chloe lets her remove it, lifting her arms so she can slip it over her head.

“Better?” she asks, even though she knows it’s definitely better. Her body is on fire and the cool air is a godsend.

“Much,” Beca says as she tosses Chloe’s shirt aside to rest her hands on her bare shoulders.

“So,” Chloe starts after a few comfortable seconds of silence, hands wandering around Beca’s ass to her waist where she finally finishes unbuttoning Beca’s shirt. “Still think it was fun to be touched by that other woman?” She cocks an eyebrow as she says it.

She knows Beca knows she is the one in control of what happens next; they both know what will happen depending on her answer. One answer will send them to the bedroom and Beca onto all-fours. The other will send them to the shower to clean up while they wait for room service to bring them something to eat.

Beca rakes her hands through her own wild hair after she lets Chloe flip her shirt over her shoulders and off to leave her fully naked in Chloe’s lap. Her eyes are still dark, as are her well-kissed lips which start to curve into a smile. “Yeah, I had a great time. I wonder if she’s free. Maybe we could invite her to join us?”

“Fuck you,” Chloe laughs before kissing her. “Hold on,” she mumbles against her lips and feels Beca wrap her arms around Chloe’s neck and her legs around her waist so she can stand to carry Beca to the bedroom.

“Make me feel it tomorrow,” Beca whispers before kissing her as they cross the threshold into the bedroom.

Chloe drops her onto the bed with a smile. “You will. Turn around.”

The End

[lets-talk-appella]

It’s Legal in Munich

Chapter 2

Summary: Lonely in Munich, Germany, Chloe hires an escort to pass the night. AU in which Chloe quit the Bellas before Beca’s freshman year, so they didn’t meet at Barden.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: T

Chapter 1

AO3 and FFN

Beca’s never done this before.

She isn’t usually the kind of person who would do this.

Still, Chloe is the only client she’s had who has ever shown an interest in more than just her body. And maybe it’s crazy, whatever it is that’s happening, because she probably runs a better chance of getting robbed by this girl than actually forming a relationship of any kind.

Because who hires an escort to... just talk? Who even does that?

Apparently, Chloe does. Apparently, Chloe would rather pay for a game of 20 Questions than pay for sex. Which, Beca hadn’t accepted the money, so technically she hadn’t paid, but she’d been willing to. That has to be some kind of sign of mental illness, right? Or at least, chronic loneliness.

And yet, Beca finds herself standing outside the same hotel room door she’d knocked on two nights previously.

Chloe had been nothing but friendly, kind, and sincere. She loves music. And—a little miraculously—it doesn’t seem to bother her that Beca works as an escort. That’s a nice change. Beca can’t remember the last time a client had seen her as her own person.

It’s weird. Beca’s kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Beca takes a deep breath, unused to the butterflies she feels in her stomach, and raises a fist to knock on the door. She’d texted Chloe that she’d be there at seven, and doesn’t want to be late, even if she’s nervous.

The sound of her knock barely fades before the door swings open to reveal Chloe, the smile already growing on her face as she stands there in a simple but nice blue patterned dress and heels. A ripple of surprise runs through Beca, and she realizes that she’d half-expected Chloe to not be there anymore.

“Hi Bec!” Chloe chirps immediately, the new nickname falling from her lips with familiarity.

“Hey,” Beca replies. “You look great!”

She’s not just saying that because that’s what you’re supposed to say on a date. Chloe really does look stunning, but it’s more than just what she’s wearing. Beca realizes that there’s something different about the way Chloe’s holding herself tonight compared to when they’d first met. This version of Chloe is more confident and comfortable. This version of Chloe is probably how she is most of the time.

She’s insanely attractive.

“So do you,” smiles Chloe, her eyes roving down over Beca’s frame, taking in her choice of dark jeans and simple top under her leather jacket.

“Thanks,” Beca mutters, lifting a hand to rub at the back of her neck carefully. She’d never been the best at accepting compliments.

“So…” Chloe starts, her lips curling up. “Should I start by inviting you in, or...?”

Beca’s shoulders relax as she grins. “Nah, I was thinking that this time we could go out.”

“Ooh, where to?” Chloe asks, plucking her purse up from the floor and stepping into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind her and giving it a push to test the lock.

“You’ll see. Just a place I’ve started to like around here.” Beca hopes she sounds coy instead of weird or vague, and Chloe shrugs.

“I trust you,” she smiles.

“Alright then,” Beca gestures for Chloe to walk ahead of her. “After you.”

Instead of starting down the hallway, however, Chloe’s eyes flick down and she reaches forward to link her fingers with Beca’s. Surprise rises in Beca’s chest, but she returns the grip; Chloe’s hand feels nice in her own.

They start down the hallway toward the elevator. Chloe’s room is only on the fourth floor, but Beca isn’t about to make her walk down the stairs in heels. “So, how was your night?” she asks as they walk. “Hire anyone else to talk to you for a few hours?”

“Yeah, actually, she’s gonna be joining us tonight. Hope that’s okay?”

Beca glances over sharply, opening her mouth to say—something. Probably.

Before she can, though, Chloe laughs gently and squeezes her hand. “I’m kidding. All I did last night was wander around the neighborhood and hit up a couple museums.”

“Right. Anything you like?”

“Eh, I guess. Like yeah, there’s a lot here, but I prefer having some company.”

Chloe says it so matter-of-factly that it makes Beca’s chest twinge. It’s probably inappropriate and definitely too soon, but she realizes that she wants to be there for Chloe if she needs someone to spend time with.

They reach the elevator and Beca presses the call button. The doors open, and they step inside the brightly lit elevator. As the doors slide closed, she has to fight back the image—memory, really—of pressing a client (she doesn’t even remember the woman’s name) to the wall of that same elevator weeks before. She drags her mind back to the present, listening to the bland elevator Muzak as they descend. The elevator dings and they step out into the lobby, making their way around small groups of people either mingling or checking in.

As soon as they’re out of the hotel, Beca veers to the left, headed for the nearest underground station.

“You’ve used the S-Bahn?” she checks with Chloe, making sure she has her underground station pass.

“Totes,” Chloe nods, and then asks as they start down the stairs to the station, “And how was your night? You had a client, right?”

Beca almost misses the last step but manages to catch herself at the last second. Chloe doesn’t seem annoyed or defensive; nothing in her expression sets off any alarm bells.

“I… did, yeah,” Beca acknowledges a little absently as she leads Chloe down another level to the correct platform, their hands still joined.

“What was she like?”

“Oh, um. I’m not really supposed to talk about it. Client privilege and all.”

“Right, sorry,” Chloe apologizes.

Which only makes Beca feel like an idiot because what she’d said hadn’t been entirely true. While she definitely isn’t allowed to give the names of her clients, she can still describe the encounters or try to make some sort of joke out of it.

But until she’s positive Chloe is completely comfortable with her job, talking about her previous night’s experience doesn’t seem like the best idea for date conversation.

“No, it’s okay,” she says, not wanting Chloe to feel bad. “I get being curious.”

“Well, either way,” smiles Chloe, “I’m glad we could make tonight work.”

Beca nods. “Me too. And, uh, we should catch this S2,” she adds, gesturing to the approaching train. It clatters toward them loudly, brakes screeching as it slows and finally stops. The doors slide open with the now-familiar whoosh—thud combination that promises access to all corners of Munich. They step on board along with most of the other people on the platform and find standing room only in their section.

“Wish we had these in the U.S.,” Chloe muses out loud as they find a corner and grasp onto the handholds, the doors sliding closed.

“No kidding,” mutters Beca as the train begins to move. “They’re nice. Usually.”

Their car is crowded and the noise of it on the tracks is enough that they’d have to shout to one another to be heard, so they can’t talk much for the rest of the ride. Instead, Beca finds herself both attempting to calm her residual nerves and trying not to stare too openly at a man across the aisle who is picking his nose with great interest, apparently not caring about the disgusted reactions of the people around him.

Thankfully, the ride is short, and they’re at Beca’s chosen destination in only a few stops. She tightens her grip on Chloe’s hand—Chloe only squeezes back—and they exit the train. Chloe looks around, surprise and recognition filling her expression.

“You’ve been here already?” Beca asks, watching the way Chloe’s eyes flick around the station as they walk toward the exit.

“I think… yeah, I stopped here once, but I’m really happy to be back,” Chloe promises. “Marienplatz, right?”

“Yep,” confirms Beca, and they start up the escalator to the street level. “I don’t know, I think it’s a pretty cool place, lots to do, lots to eat.”

“And it’ll be my treat,” Chloe is quick to add as they reach the street.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to. Besides, I think I owe you some money from the other night.”

Beca shrugs uncomfortably, unused to someone taking care of her like this. “I—if you’re sure. Thanks.”

“Woah,” Chloe breathes, dropping Beca’s hand, and Beca glances over to see her staring around them with wide eyes.

They’d walked up from the station, which had deposited them directly into the center of Marienplatz. It’s a central, old city square; the Glockenspiel clock tower is on their left, cutting across the skyline and filling the view. Countless stores and restaurants line the other sides of the square, broken only by alleys and pathways deeper into the city. A street performer belts out covers of pop songs in operatic style near one of the main square fountains as people watch on, some dropping coins into the case in front of her. The square is crowded, but Beca has seen it much busier during times the Glockenspiel chimes and goes off. Because it’s nearing darkness, lamps and lights have begun turning on, illuminating the area in a soft glow.

“What do you think?” she asks, hearing the smile in her own voice.

“Beca, this is… it’s so cool!” Chloe nearly squeals it, tearing her eyes from the performer to look back at Beca. “You must come here all the time. I mean, I was here before, but it was during the day and there wasn’t all this…” Chloe trails off, waving her arm in a grand gesture over the area.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Beca agrees, pointing toward the clock tower. “We can climb up it, if you want, after dinner.”

“No way.”

“Mhm. It’s got a great view of the city.”

“Is it open that late?” Chloe asks, craning her neck to stare up it.

“Not usually,” Beca shakes her head. “But I made a call and explained, so we have special permission.”

“Just like that?” Chloe stares.

“I mean,” Beca shifts her weight, “my job kinda… the company is pretty influential.”

“That’s awesome,” breathes Chloe, looking impressed.

“It’s a perk,” Beca nods. “Um, should we keep going to the restaurant, then?”

Chloe steps closer, slipping her hand into Beca’s once again. “Definitely.”

With that, Beca leads Chloe to one of the main alleys away from the square, weaving around tourists and locals alike. They pass several bakeries and other restaurants, whose delicious smells waft out and threaten to ensnare Beca, but she knows their eventual destination will be even better. She takes Chloe past a bronze statue of a woman with one breast left gold and shiny from tourists’ hands, past an outdoor market, and by a large church, in front of which sits a performer playing an accordion. There, Beca’s is dragged to a stop by a sudden pressure on her hand.

“Wait,” Chloe says softly. “Is he—are they playing… headless?”

Beca spins on the spot to search out the accordion player; sure enough, the performer sits, his or her head hidden completely away in their oversized costume, with a curved sort of hook holding up their hat over the “invisible” head space.

“Hmm. Look at that,” Beca replies. “I guess they are.”

The look Chloe sends her is one of surprised delight, her lips lifted at the corners and eyebrows raised; they watch they performer for a moment, watch as kids approach with coins and the performer half bows with each tip, the accordion never stopping.

“So, I have a rule,” Chloe starts, “that if a street performer makes me stop walking, I have to give some change.”

“Good rule,” Beca says approvingly, and digs in her pants pocket for a few Euros of her own. “Wanna give them this, too, please?”

Chloe nods and lets go of Beca’s hand to take the coins. She fishes out some coins of her own and makes her way over to the performer, placing the coins in the basket on the ground in front of them. She smiles sincerely at the place where the head should be, and the performer bends in their chair, bowing to her. Beca feels her own lips lift into a smile at the sight.

“What?” Chloe asks her when she returns, rejoining their hands.

“Nothing,” Beca replies, lifting a single shoulder casually. “That was just cute.”

Chloe purses her lips as if trying not to laugh, but she doesn’t comment and they continue on their way to the restaurant Beca had chosen. She waves down alleys, past various restaurants and bars and souvenir shops, until their destination is in sight. And in clear earshot.

“The... Hofbräuhaus?” Chloe asks, either recognizing the famous tourist trap or reading the curving letters on the building.

“Actually,” Beca starts, “if it’s okay with you, I thought we’d go somewhere quieter and less touristy. And I know the owners and, trust me, the food is better.”

“That sounds good. I don’t want to shout at you to be heard,” Chloe grins, and Beca knows she’d made the right decision. So instead of the loud, exuberant, and somewhat aromatic Hofbräuhaus, Beca crosses the street and shows Chloe into a much smaller, quieter, and far better-smelling biergarten restaurant. The second they walk in, the man behind the bar recognizes Beca and waves in greeting.

Chloe shoots her a look, a single eyebrow raised.

“What?” Beca asks, a little self-conscious.

“Nothing,” Chloe grins teasingly. “That was just cute.”

Beca snorts and rolls her eyes, ignoring the warmth creeping up her neck. She spots a table quickly and they sit down, Beca signaling to the waitress, who smiles.

“You know what you want to drink?” Beca asks Chloe as the waitress approaches.

“Of course,” says Chloe, and after greeting the waitress, immediately orders a wheat beer.

Beca orders the same, and the waitress moves to the bar, leaving behind dinner menus for them to examine.

“When in Germany, right?” Chloe asks, her eyes flicking to where the waitress is collecting their beers.

“Right,” Beca agrees, then leans forward. “You know, don’t tell anyone, but I really prefer wine.”

Chloe looks scandalized. “No!”

“I know, I know.”

“I don’t think this date can continue,” Chloe says with fake seriousness, her eyes sparkling and giving her away. “Not liking beer while in Germany…”

“I am a disappointment, so I’d understand.”

“Pretty far from a disappointment so far, Bec,” Chloe winks, and then says, “You could probably order some. Wine, that is.”

“Nah, that’s okay. Beer is fine, and like you said, when in Germany…”

With perfect timing, their waitress reappears with two large, foamy beers in hand. “Are you ready?” she asks with only a slight accent, gesturing to the menus in front of them.

“Oh, um—”

“Can I choose for us?” Beca asks Chloe. “I think I have a good idea.”

Chloe nods quickly. “Yeah, go for it.”

“Um, so…” Beca turns to the waitress, and says in her best (and still rather broken) German, “Wir möchten den... Probenteller und zwei… um, Käse, bitte.”

The waitress’ eyebrows draw together slightly, but she says “Danke,” and moves to the kitchen to place the order.

As soon as she’s gone, Chloe leans forward, her expression partly impressed, partly amused. “What did you order?”

Beca shifts in her chair. “Well, I think it was the sampler platter, because that’s good and we can easily share. And I asked for some Black Forest Cake, too, I think, but I’m not sure that one went through.”

Chloe’s lips twitch. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Yeah, I…” Beca trails off, glancing in the direction the waitress had disappeared. “Maybe I should find her and order again in English, just in case.”

“Nah, it’ll be okay,” Chloe says with a wave of her hand. “Part of the adventure, right? Plus, watching you order like that was kinda hot.”

“Really?”

“Well… you made a lot of kind of angry noises, but it was cool,” Chloe grins, making Beca roll her eyes.

“Thanks,” she replies as dryly as she can manage. “That’s German.”

It only makes Chloe’s smile widen. “Do you always try to speak the language when you visit a country?” she asks, taking a sip of her beer. It leaves behind a foam mustache on her upper lip, one that Beca has to resist the impulse to reach forward and wipe off with her own thumb.

“Um, I guess, yeah,” she says as Chloe dabs her lip with a napkin, removing the foam. “People seem to appreciate it.”

Chloe leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and propping her chin on her joined fists. “Where else have you been?”

Beca starts to reply, only for a huge wooden block covered in food to appear in her line of vision; their waitress had returned without her noticing. “The sample platter,” the waitress says simply, then also sets down two large blocks of dense-looking cheese. “And the… cheese.”

Beca blinks. “The… cheese.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, thanks!” Chloe chirps happily, and the waitress turns away to help other customers.

Beca leans forward. “Cheese?”

Chloe has already started examining the sampler block. “Yes.”

“Chloe. I ordered cheese instead of chocolate cake.”

“Yes.”

“Cheese!”

“You’re awfully hung up on that,” Chloe states, starting to transfer some of the food from the wooden block onto a separate plate for herself.

“My German isn’t as good as I thought,” Beca mumbles as she also starts on the sample plate. She chose it for the variety; traditional meats, deli slices, sausages, cheeses, a pretzel, and different breads. There’s more than enough, especially considering the chunk of cheese they were both given as well.

“You mean your German isn’t as gouda as you thought?” Chloe asks without missing a beat. She looks up, her expression blank.

“Oh my god,” Beca groans, partially covering her face with her hands as Chloe’s impassive mask breaks into giggles at her own pun. “That was… horrible.”

“Thanks,” Chloe beams, then tries some of the sausage. “Oh wow, this is good.”

Beca nods, reaching for some of the pretzel. “That’s the thing about Europe—everything tastes so much better here.”

Chloe covers her mouth with her hand as she speaks. “God, I know. I just want to eat everything. And, okay, you were about to tell me where else you’ve been?”

“Oh, right,” says Beca, leaning back in her chair slightly. “Um, well, I went to New Zealand, then Sydney, then Rome, Barcelona, Prague, and now I’m here.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah, um. I’ve been here the longest for sure, everywhere else was like a week or two. I started running low on money fast and needed a job, and, well.” Beca rubs her back of her hand over the end of her nose absently. “After this, I’m not sure. Maybe Poland, maybe Ireland.”

Chloe glances down at her plate. “How much longer do you think you’ll be here?”

“I… haven’t really thought about it,” Beca says slowly, an unexpected heaviness settling into her stomach at that. She shifts uneasily, then asks, “How long do you plan on staying?”

Chloe grimaces. “Um, not—not too long. I don’t really have a set schedule, but, um, I was only thinking another two weeks or so. Maybe less.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Beca stares down at her food without really seeing it. She wonders anew if this is crazy, going on dates like this with a stranger. She’s seized with the urge to get up and leave the restaurant, to never look back or contact Chloe again. It would be a lot easier than… whatever it is they’re doing. Beca doesn’t know how this is going to end, doesn’t know when she’s going to leave, doesn’t know if she’s ever going to see Chloe again after these few weeks.

She does know that she can’t stand missing people. It takes too much out of her.

She glances at the door, mentally counting the number of steps it would take to reach it.

“Beca.”

Chloe’s voice is soft and cautious. It reminds Beca of the other night, how Chloe had seemed to sense her thoughts and had put her worries at ease.

“Bec, it’s okay. It’ll… we can figure that out later. We still barely know each other,” Chloe says. “I mean, I could turn out to be a serial killer, luring young, beautiful women to their untimely demises.”

Almost against her will, Beca’s muscles relax and she sits back. “Are you a serial killer? Do I need my official BU rape whistle?”

For some reason, the question seems to delight Chloe. “Oh, you got one of those, too? I thought they’d stopped handing them out after people’s parents complained.”

“Nope, I got one. I think it’s somewhere in a landfill, though.”

Chloe’s expression turns reproachful. “Beca, those are very important self-defense devices. Especially for young women traveling alone.”

Beca snorts and returns to eating. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Chloe doesn’t say anything, but resumes tucking into her own food. Beca watches her for a moment, thinking about what Chloe had said; she’s right. They barely know one another. She’d been too quick to assume that Chloe would turn out to be anything more than a fling.

“Tell me more about a cappella?” she finds herself asking, genuinely curious. “What did you guys, like… do?”

Immediately, Chloe’s eyes brighten. “Oh my god, Bec, it was so fun. We sang covers of songs, all by women, like Mariah Carey and The Bangles and Ace of Base and—”

Beca almost chokes on her beer, taking a poorly timed sip. “Ace of Base?” she sputters. “You’re not serious.”

“Of course I am,” Chloe blinks back. “‘I Saw the Sign’ was the tits.”

“The tits.”

“Yes, Beca, try to keep up. We also performed backup for Prince once. His butt is so tiny that—”

“Hold on, I’m still—” Beca cuts herself off, searching for the right words. “Um, so, go back to Ace of Base. Did you guys sing anything from this century?”

Chloe shrugs, looking thoughtful. “I mean, we stuck with the classics. Aubrey didn’t mind.”

“But did you?”

“I—” Chloe stops abruptly, as if the thought had never occurred to her. “I guess,” she starts slowly, “it might have been… nice… to branch out.”

“Hmm.”

“But we still had fun! Like, once we went to Denver and performed at a massive outdoor event.”

“Okay, um, tell me about that, and about your top favorite performances, and why,” Beca suggests, selecting a piece of bread. A cappella might not be her thing (she still thinks it’s pretty lame), but it makes her happy to see how excited Chloe gets over it.

Several minutes later, however, after hearing all about confetti cannons in Kansas and about someone named Alice who, frankly, sounds like a total bitch, Beca might have to admit (the teeniest, tiniest admission ever) that a cappella actually doesn’t seem totally lame. Like, she’d never do it herself, obviously, but the idea of it as an institution no longer makes her cringe in secondhand embarrassment. She kind of wants to hear more about it, actually, and so when their waitress returns not with the check but instead with two slices of Black Forest Cake and a wink, Beca only keeps asking questions. (The blocks of cheese sit forgotten.)

“You guys had actual initiations? No way.”

Chloe nods emphatically, taking a bite of her cake. “Oh, totes. Aca-initiations, where we lit up a ton of candles and had the recruits swear not to mess around with Trebles and they drank the blood of the sisters.”

Beca almost spits out her cake. She needs to stop eating and drinking when Chloe talks. “Dude, no, that’s—”

“It was Boones Farm,” Chloe waves a hand dismissively.

“Right,” Beca says faintly, then something occurs to her. “So you guys would have had to kick me out anyway.”

“What? Why?”

“That guy? Jesse? He was a Treble, remember?”

“Oh,” Chloe says, deflating slightly for some reason. “I mean, maybe not. I’m sure we could have made an exception.”

Beca purses her lips, purposefully trying to look as skeptical as she can.

Chloe is quick to expand. “Well I’d have been co-captains with Aubrey, and I wouldn’t have let her kick you out. She’d have liked you, anyway, I’m sure.”

“Maybe,” Beca allows, finishing the last bite of her cake. She isn’t sure what gives her the courage to ask, but she says, “Um, do you… I mean, are you sure you two can’t… like, work something out?”

Chloe’s expression turns unreadable.

“I mean, like,” Beca is quick to add, “the way you talk about her, I just—you were obviously close, and I think that maybe—”

“Maybe,” Chloe cuts her off. “Maybe one day, but…” she trails off with a shrug, and Beca wants to kick herself for rambling. It wasn’t any of her business in the first place.

“Right,” she mumbles faintly.

“I’m really glad we got the cake,” Chloe says, bluntly changing the subject. Beca glances up, but she doesn’t seem angry, only done talking about Aubrey. “It was nice of the waitress.”

Beca nods, somewhat relieved. “Yeah, that’s a perk of knowing the owner, I guess,” she says. “Um, we kind of have to signal if we’re ready to pay. It’s different here.”

“Got it,” Chloe says confidently, catching the waitress’ eye and giving a little wave. As the waitress starts over, Chloe digs in her purse and pulls out a familiar looking envelope, resting it on the table.

Beca’s hand twitches and she almost reaches for the envelope instinctively—she’s just so used to being paid out of plain white envelopes—but she manages to stop herself just in time. To cover if Chloe had noticed anything strange, she quickly asks, “You didn’t take it out of the envelope?”

Chloe blinks. “Nah. Didn’t really need to.”

Then the waitress is there and accepting the money for the meal. If she thinks anything is strange about the form of payment, she doesn’t say. Instead, they’re thanked for their service, and they rise from the table to leave the restaurant. Almost instantly, Chloe’s hand is in Beca’s, though she isn’t sure who reached for whom first.

“Well, um, thanks again for dinner,” Beca says a little awkwardly as they exit the restaurant. She lifts her free hand to the side of her neck, rubbing it absently. “I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, it’s totally—” Chloe cuts off abruptly, her gaze zeroed in on where Beca’s hand meets her neck. Her lips tighten and her eyes immediately flick away. It’s quick, but Beca catches it, and confusion clouds her mind. “It’s no problem at all,” Chloe finishes a little brusquely.

And that’s when it hits Beca, like a brick sliding down her throat. She examines her hand and, sure enough, the concealer she’d used on her neck is now smeared across her fingertips.

“Um, I’m sorry,” she says, because that’s the only thing she can think to say. “Shit, that’s—”

“Looks like you left with some souvenirs?” Chloe asks, her voice light.

Beca’s face twists with annoyance. “I told her she shouldn’t do that. I mean, I have a ‘no marks’ policy, but—”

“Tough client?” Chloe asks, but she her tone of voice is back to normal. She’s still holding tight to Beca’s hand as they walk, and Beca notices with some relief that she doesn’t seem angry. At least, she looks as Beca like she always does, and though her eyebrows are slightly drawn together, it seems more in concern than anything.

“Um, no,” Beca replies after a moment. “She was just—uh, she liked it a little rougher.”

Which is also partially the reason Beca chose to wear a regular shirt and jacket instead of anything backless. But Chloe doesn’t need to know that much detail.

Chloe’s eyes flash with mirth and she winks. “Your client and I have that in common.”

The air rushes from Beca’s lungs. “Oh?”

Chloe’s smile widens and she squeezes Beca’s hand gently. Which, not helpful, because Beca still isn’t sure if she’s kidding or not, and she kind of thinks she might actually get whiplash from spending time with Chloe. It hits her all over again how much more confident this version of Chloe is compared to the one she’d initially met.

“So, uh,” Chloe starts as they draw nearer to Marienplatz once again, “can I ask you more about your job, actually? Not like specific clients, just more about it,” she adds quickly.

“Sure,” Beca agrees quickly, not wanting it to seem like she’s hiding that part of her life. “Fire away,” she says, then cringes at herself.

“What’s it like?” Chloe asks. “Like, what’s the experience like?”

Beca hesitates. “For me or for my clients?”

“Either. Both.”

Beca blows out a stream of air, trying to collect her thoughts. They’re walking slowly, but already almost halfway to Marienplatz. Around them, the streets have quieted as evening falls, many of the tourists already at their hotels for the night.

“Well, for me,” Beca begins, “it’s really… I mean, it’s a business transaction. At first, it was… well, um. Jesse and I, well, we never… I lost my virginity to my first client,” she admits, looking quickly at Chloe.

Chloe’s eyebrows lift, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah, so,” Beca barrels on, “that was kind of awkward because I’d lied about that to the company, and to my client, obviously. Because that isn’t usually… yeah. But, you know, I’d looked things up online and, um, I made sure my client had a good time, and she paid me well, so, it was fine.”

“Was she careful?” Chloe’s question surprises Beca.

“Oh. Well, she didn’t know, so.”

“Okay,” Chloe breathes, giving Beca’s hand another squeeze, the pressure from which seems to travel up into Beca’s chest.

“Um, so, for me,” Beca continues quickly, “it really is just business, because I kinda… well, to do what I do, you really have to… close off a bit and focus on the fact that it literally is just money. And, you know, I do some, um, role play and—well, I can make it feel like it’s more than just sex, you know?” Beca risks another glance at Chloe, but her expression is neutral. “But really, I’ve gotten to the point where it’s just—like, it’s still fun, but it doesn’t mean anything beyond money.”

Chloe nods slowly, her lower lip drawn between her teeth. “And for your clients?”

Beca takes a deep breath. “Well, it’s like I said to you the other night. They can really customize the experience, depending on what they want and what they pay for. They all understand that it’s just for money, though.”

A corner of Chloe’s mouth quirks up. “I do distinctly remember an optional bag of toys.”

It startles a little huff from Beca. “Yeah, that. Some clients want those, some don’t.”

“What do different women like?” Chloe asks next, tilting her head to the side.

“Oh, different things,” Beca says, relaxing into the conversation more. “Some just want touching without, uh”—she glances around, lowering her voice—“penetration. Some are really into penetration, and like toys a lot. Some just want, you know, uh, my mouth. It depends, but everyone likes things a little differently.”

“Makes sense,” Chloe says, right as they re-enter the square, Marienplatz. It’s quieter now, only a few people milling around and a lone violinist having taken the place of the singer from earlier. They continue to walk around the edge of the square, speaking softly.

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve had to do?”

“Um… oh,” Beca has to stifle a laugh at the memory. “Once, a client asked me to speak in a SpongeBob voice.”

Chloe stops dead in her tracks, eyes popping. “No! You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish,” Beca laughs, shaking her head. “That totally happened. It was… weird.”

“Sounds like it,” Chloe mutters and resumes their walk. “Um, do people ever hire more than one escort at a time?”

“Like a three-way?”

“Yeah, or to just… watch?”

Beca shrugs. “Um, it gets a little complicated with that, but as long as the client is willing to pay both escorts well, then yeah. The escorts agree to it, though, like I’ve never done it because that isn’t on my list.”

“Do all escorts only have female clients at your company?”

“Definitely not,” Beca answers, noticing they’re getting close to the clock tower she’d promised they could visit earlier. “That was just my personal preference. A lot of my co-workers have even more, uh... interesting stories than I do because they work with men.”

Chloe wrinkles her nose slightly. “I’m glad you don’t have to deal with that.”

“Me too,” Beca agrees, then gestures to the clock tower. “Um, it is getting kinda late, should we go up? You can keep asking me things,” she adds, and Chloe nods happily.

“Definitely, let’s go up!” she says, rocking up to her tiptoes before dropping back down. “I want to see the view.”

“Cool.” Beca leads Chloe by the hand to the foot of the tower, where a sign indicates that the elevator to the top of the glockenspiel is through the closed, locked door in front of them.

“Um, Bec? Are you sure…” Chloe’s voice trails off into nothingness when Beca crouches to the ground. She reaches forward, spying the key taped to the stone wall, and plucks it up.

“They said they’d leave it for us,” she says, inserting the key into the lock on the door, opening it and gesturing for Chloe to go first. “We just have to put it in the same spot on the way out.”

The impressed look Chloe gives her makes the hassle worth it; it hadn’t been easy to convince the employees to let her do this, company name or not.

She follows Chloe inside, making sure to close the door behind them, and they take the few steps required to get to the elevator. Beca presses the call button, and with a chime and a creaking noise, the doors slide open. They step inside and Chloe presses the button to go up.

“Do you have a boss?” Chloe’s abrupt question takes Beca by surprise.

“Like a pimp?” she asks, having to raise her voice to be heard over the clattering of machinery.

Chloe cringes a little, but nods.

Beca shuffles her feet. “Just the head of the company. She oversees the website, helps us with the legality forms, that stuff. She makes sure we’re safe.”

If Chloe is surprised that the owner of the company is a ‘she,’ she doesn’t give any sign. Instead, she draws her lower lip between her teeth and looks at Beca out of the corner of her eye. “Yeah, um… so, the safety…”

“Yeah?” Beca thinks she knows where this is headed.

Chloe takes a breath. “I mean, how often—like, do you have to worry about, you know, catching anything?”

“Like an STI?”

“Yeah,” Chloe exhales, looking awkward.

The elevator dings again and shudders to a halt; they’ve reached the top of the tower. The doors slide open, and they step out onto the top of the clock tower.

“Not really,” Beca answers with a shrug. “I get checked every so often, but with women, it’s less likely. And also clients have to be screened for that. You should have done the process, actually,” she adds, looking at Chloe curiously. She’s fairly sure clients have to fill out a form disclosing that information.

Chloe blinks. “Oh. I just signed those forms without reading, ‘cuz, you know. I didn’t actually want to sleep with anyone. Sorry.”

Affection bursts in Beca’s chest. “No, you’re good,” she says, then gestures to the view. “And look.”

Chloe turns her head and gasps sharply; Beca watches the way her eyes move, scanning the horizon, drinking in Munich’s evening skyline. Beca knows it’s a beautiful sight. She’s seen it many times before, can clearly picture how the low buildings seem to stack on one another as far as the eye can see. By now, lights will be glimmering from building exteriors and from windows, silhouettes of the people of Munich cutting across them, interrupting their path to Chloe’s eye. The night sky will be an inky blue, with just the faintest pinpricks of stars visible in the middle of the city. For a sprawling city, Munich seems small, and the homey feel of it will resonate with Chloe even at the late hour.

Beca knows exactly what the view looks like. She’s seen it before. She hasn’t seen Chloe’s reaction to it, though, and that is far more important.

Chloe stares over the city, her lips parted and eyes wide, hair moving and twisting gently in the slight breeze. The breath catches in Beca’s chest; Chloe puts the view of the city to shame.

“This is amazing,” Chloe breathes, taking a step forward. The elevator had dropped them on a sort of platform that goes around the outside of the Glockenspiel, fenced in for their safety. Chloe walks along this platform slowly, seemingly unable to tear her eyes away from the sight. Beca follows her, trying to map every shift in her expression.

Chloe takes another step forward, and her foot hits an uneven patch; Beca realizes she’s not watching her step and reaches out even as Chloe starts to stumble. She catches Chloe’s waist and holds her steady even as Chloe’s hands fly to Beca’s shoulders, holding her for support.

“Woah, careful!” Beca laughs, and stops, the laughter caught in her throat when she notices how close together they are. She swallows, hard.

Steadied, Chloe meets her eyes. “Are escorts allowed to be in relationships?” she whispers, her face suddenly much, much too close.

Beca’s stomach flips, twirls, flutters. “As long as both the escort and their partner is okay with it, yeah,” she manages, hearing the rasp in her own voice.

“Cool.”

“Very.”

Beca doesn’t know who closes the distance, but it hardly matters when the only thing in the world she cares about is the way Chloe’s lips feel on hers. Chloe kisses like she’s losing herself and the only thing keeping her tethered is Beca. She kisses like she’s trying to make Beca forget her own name.

Again, Beca doesn’t know who sighs first, who parts their lips, who changes the angle; she just knows that nothing has ever felt quite the way Chloe’s tongue feels sliding over her own. She tightens her hold on Chloe’s waist, hyper-aware of the soft feel of the fabric of Chloe’s dress beneath her hands. Chloe makes a small sound, somewhere between a whimper and a groan, that only makes Beca press closer, closer, wanting to draw every single one of those sounds out of her.

When Chloe’s back meets the wall of the clock tower, her hands slide into Beca’s hair, causing Beca to make her own sound of pleasure, pressing still closer. Chloe seems to smile against her lips as they keep kissing, neither of them wanting to be the first to pull away.

Beca might not usually be the kind of person who does this. But so far, she’s glad she did.