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Desperate Measures

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There’s a lot Beca doesn’t understand in the world.

 

Quantum physics. Income tax. Foreign trade agreements. Why people enjoy running marathons.

 

How she and Chloe ended up having extremely hot sex multiple times last night.

 

She supposes it was a culmination of things. The trust between them. The boredom. Cabin fever. The sexual tension they’ve been trying to alleviate together but separately, with the boundaries growing less and less defined as the days wore on. Their apparent mutual sexual attraction to one another.

 

She tries to do a quick tally in her head. It’s been two months since their first little experiment. Eight weeks. Fifty-six days. And other than the week they spent not talking about what happened the very first time, they have shared what they’ve taken to calling “moments” every single day.

 

Forty-nine days of watching Chloe come. Forty-nine days of Beca getting off right next to her. Forty-nine days and at least forty-nine orgasms each that they’ve allowed the other to witness.

 

At least forty-nine orgasms that she gave herself until yesterday when her vibrator died and they decided Chloe’s fingers could replace it. She adds four more orgasms to her tally. Four that Chloe so willingly gave her. Two of which were accompanied by Chloe coming, too; the second time being around Beca’s fingers. 

 

She notices her hand trembling as she puts the bottle of conditioner back in its spot on the rack that hangs over the metal shower curtain rod encircling their middle-of-the-room bathtub. A slow, deep breath helps to calm her pulse which picked up considerably at the memories and she tries to focus on finishing her shower while she listens to Chloe singing along to one of Beca’s playlists a few feet away.

 

Chloe’s shadow moves along the white shower curtain, patterned with generic blue flowers, and Beca can tell she’s dancing around the room. It makes her smile and when Chloe’s fingers poke at the shower curtain, Beca pokes back like a game of Whack-a-Mole and she can hear the smile in Chloe’s voice as she sings along to a Jonas Brothers song that Beca acted ignorant about, blaming a click-and-drag error when it showed up on the playlist. It wasn’t an error, though.

 

“Want some company?”

 

The abrupt closeness of Chloe’s voice makes her jump and she twists her neck to see Chloe’s face smiling at her through the gap in the shower curtain. She immediately blushes because she is completely naked, but then again, they’ve seen each other naked innumerable times and, oh, right: they fucked each other senseless yesterday.

 

“You could wait your turn, you know,” she says with a roll of her eyes and a smile. She knows full-well that Chloe won’t take her response to mean, “no,” and she’s okay with that. Her barely slowed pulse picks up again in the few seconds Chloe disappears because she knows Chloe’s stripping.

 

“This is a great playlist, Bec,” Chloe says conversationally as she steps into the shower behind Beca.

 

She’s immediately close; their small apartment features everything in a reduced size to make it all fit and the bathtub is no different. It’s roughly two-thirds the size of a normal tub and Beca knows from experience that even in a standard-size bath, two people don’t have much space of their own.

 

“Thanks,” she says, keeping her eyes forward and pretending to not want to turn around and let her eyes rove over Chloe’s nude body.

 

“This is one of my favorite new songs.”

 

“Oh?” Beca feigns; she knew that. It’s why it’s on the playlist.

 

She hears Chloe hum in response and if she had Spidey senses, they would be tingling because she can feel that Chloe is right behind her. “Save some hot water for me,” Chloe says, but it sounds a lot like honey and less like words the way they’re spoken next to her right ear.

 

Chloe’s hands find her waist. Beca’s body, already wound up from her trip down sexual memory lane, shivers from the contact. She feels herself being nudged forward and out of the spray of the showerhead that hangs above the center of the tub and she knows Chloe’s getting herself wet under the spray.

 

Like Beca is already wet.

 

It’s become Pavlovian. A touch or a wink or a flirtatious comment from Chloe and she ruins her underwear, but she’s not wearing any right now.

 

She feels Chloe against her back after a minute or two, both of them warm and wet and she can feel how Chloe’s nipples are hard and pressing into her. It makes her chin drop to her chest, partly because she feels a bit dizzy and partly because she wants to see Chloe’s hands on her. 

 

There’s only one on her waist now, though. She wonders where the other is until she feels it along her neck, scratching just the slightest bit as Chloe pulls her wet hair over and behind her shoulder, away from her neck.

 

“I can’t stop thinking about yesterday.”

 

The words melt over Beca’s ear and her head automatically tilts to the left, away from the voice. But it isn’t to escape. It’s because Chloe’s lips are so close to the right side of her neck and if she’s going to do something, anything at all, Beca wants to make sure she has plenty of skin to work with.

 

The hand not at her waist glides down her back until it’s following the curve of Beca’s ass, something that makes her twitch with need and makes Chloe chuckle in her ear as she squeezes it gently.

 

“What about it?” she manages to ask and she’s moderately embarrassed by how airy her voice has already become. But Chloe’s never touched her there so it’s something new for her body to feel and respond to and, unsurprisingly, its response is to become more aroused.

 

“You were so…”—Chloe pauses and Beca holds her breath—“...eager,” she finishes with a sigh that Beca can feel. “To show me.”

 

Beca doesn’t need to ask for clarification; she’s been reliving the experience non-stop in her mind, what it was like to fuck herself with her vibrator just for Chloe. But she kind of really, really likes the way Chloe’s hands are starting to roam her body, her hips and stomach and ribs until her back is arching and her head is tipping back from Chloe’s hands sliding up to cover her breasts.

 

They aren’t hesitant about it and Beca can’t stop the quiet, breathy “Shit,” that escapes her lips after her gasp of surprise. “Show you what?” she manages to prompt when Chloe doesn’t seem to be continuing her recounting of events.

 

“Whatever I wanted.” Her hands squeeze and Beca’s flail for something to hold on to but the shower is a complete safety hazard and doesn’t have one single, reinforced surface in it other than the tub itself and she suddenly questions if doing whatever they’re about to do is a wise choice.

 

She doesn’t mind the possibility of slipping and falling and spraining her wrist, but if she has a sprained wrist it’s going to make it exponentially more difficult to fuck Chloe the way she had yesterday.

 

Then again, there are a lot of other ways to fuck someone (Chloe) that don’t require the use of her hand. The image of Chloe in bed, on her back, one hand in her own hair and the other in Beca’s as Beca licks at her cunt fills her mind, and her breath stutters. Her hands find something to brace herself against: Chloe’s hips behind her. She needs something to help keep her upright because it’s way too soon to be collapsing into the pile of needy want that she already is.

 

“Happy to help,” she breathes, able to form words even as Chloe’s fingers start teasing her already stiff nipples. She kind of hates (loves) that Chloe already figured out how sensitive they are.

 

“So generous,” Chloe says, almost absently as Beca feels warm lips press against her cool shoulder.

 

It makes her eyelashes flutter open and she can’t help but look down again, this time to watch the way Chloe’s teasing her breasts.  Her hands are in sync in the way they squeeze and circle and flick and pinch and Beca wonders if Chloe is remembering how quickly her attention to Beca’s nipples made Beca want Round Two last night.

 

She hasn’t even had Round One yet today but she knows she’s already as wet as if she was on Round Three. She can feel it when she shifts her feet. “Chloe.”

 

“Hmm?” Chloe’s hands grab at her breasts rather possessively.

 

“I need…” She could say she needs a moment, their passphrase to masturbate. But that isn’t what she wants. What she wants...is Chloe. 

 

“Tell me.” The words are followed by teeth against her shoulder, gentle but present.

 

Beca’s not completely sure she’s thinking. At least, not consciously. But she’s hyper-aware of what she’s doing as she reaches up to snag Chloe’s right hand to start dragging it down her body. “I need you.”

 

She can hear Chloe’s sigh as much as she feels it, hot breath against her ear before lips are pressing at her neck. It’s clear that Chloe understands, her hand no longer needing Beca to direct it but Beca holds onto it anyway. She wants the connection to have her hand on the back of Chloe’s as it slides past her navel and between her legs without hesitation.

 

She knows the sound she makes is pathetic, a whine that’s as much from relief as it is the need for more.

 

Chloe doesn’t seem to mind if the way she moans is anything to go by, as her fingers move confidently against Beca. She knows what Chloe is doing: she’s exploring, surveying how wet Beca is, and not from the shower. “You feel so good,” Chloe mumbles against her neck.

 

Beca just rolls her head further to the left, trying to offer more of herself up to Chloe’s whim. She thinks it’s absurd that Chloe thinks it’s Beca who feels good because Chloe feels absolutely fucking amazing and Beca’s hips tilt forward as their hands, together, slide further between her legs.

 

Chloe really needs no direction whatsoever but Beca’s fucked herself for Chloe so many times, there’s something especially erotic about feeling Chloe fuck her. The ways her fingers reach to tease into her, just an inch or two, before they’re pulling back to start rubbing gentle circles against her clit. Chloe’s fingers beneath Beca’s.

 

“Fuck,” Beca moans when Chloe’s fingers pinch at her nipple the same time they lightly tug at her clit and her free hand, the one not following Chloe’s every move, flies up to cover the back of Chloe’s other hand. The one at her breast.

 

“God, you’re so hot,” Chloe whispers in her ear as she stops being quite so teasing with her touches. She’s slow but steady, fingers swiping back and forth over Beca’s clit in a way that has Beca’s hips chasing her for more. “Do I really make you this wet?”

 

Beca doesn’t know if Chloe expects an answer or even needs one. It’s a rhetorical question but Chloe deserves to know how much she arouses Beca. If their roles were reversed, she’d want to hear it from Chloe, so she swallows and hopes her voice works for something other than the whimpers and moans it’s been producing.

 

“Yeah,” she says, voice cracking to make her swallow again. “You turn me on so much. Fuck.”

 

She hears a broken moan from Chloe in her ear and she braces herself for what she hopes her words incite: something less measured and torturous. She wants Chloe to take her. She’s already at her mercy but she presses Chloe’s fingers more firmly against herself anyway, trying to drive home her point.

 

Instead, Chloe pushes back until her hand is retreating from its place.

 

The loss makes Beca stutter-step forward and thankfully Chloe steadies her. “Dude,” she whines, whipping her head around to ask why she stopped but Chloe’s already taking a step backward, then another as she catches Beca’s hand to pull her along, too.

 

“Bed,” Chloe says as she steps out of the tub. “So I can fuck you properly.” She smirks as she says it.

 

Beca’s knees are unsteady as she follows, Chloe helping her over the edge of the tub and right into a kiss that happens so seamlessly Beca doesn’t even remember it beginning. Chloe, in better control of her faculties, walks backward and Beca takes quick glances as her tongue plays with Chloe’s to see that their bed is only another step or two away. She spares a thought for the fact that they’re both sopping wet from the shower and they’re about to fall onto their bed, but she doesn’t do anything to stop it. Not when Chloe’s hand is suddenly between her legs again making it almost impossible for Beca to walk.

 

Chloe pulls Beca down with her and though Beca had expected to be turned and pushed onto her back, she’s pleasantly surprised when she ends up straddling a seated Chloe.

 

Through the fog of her mind, she distinctly remembers Chloe telling her that her favorite position is to have a girl in her lap riding her. “Fingers, strap, whatever.” She can hear Chloe’s words in her memory and spares a thought to how, when she’d heard them that late night in bed, she had been so incredibly turned on by the concept of anyone (specifically herself) riding Chloe’s fingers (strap, whatever) that she’d started debating whether or not she could inconspicuously get herself off in bed once Chloe fell asleep.

 

She hadn’t expected things to take the turn they did that night. Nor the developments in the days thereafter driven by boredom, proximity, libido, and a strong sexual attraction that culminated in Chloe coming against her thigh while Beca came on Chloe’s fingers.

 

Just like she knows she’s going to once again in the very immediate future.

 

Her hips move of their own accord, grinding herself down against Chloe’s hand. She’s desperate for more and tries to make it known, not just with trying to take more but giving more. She kisses Chloe hard, hands gripping her shoulders and nails clawing at her back in ways that she hopes don’t hurt as much as she hopes to leave marks. She wants to see evidence of it on Chloe. Something to complement the hickeys Chloe sucked into her neck and breasts last night.

 

Chloe, however, seems intent on taking her time and Beca doesn’t have time for time.

 

“Chloe,” she growls in desperate irritation before kissing Chloe particularly hard.

 

“Hmm?” Chloe sounds annoyingly innocent as she pulls her hand back until her fingertips are barely touching Beca at all.

 

It makes Beca sit back, her ass against Chloe’s thighs, and muster the strength to look Chloe squarely in the eye. “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

 

Chloe nods proudly and it makes Beca tip her head back and groan in annoyance.

 

“You tell me you can’t stop thinking about yesterday and now you tease—” her rant is cut off by Chloe’s fingers sinking into her cunt. All the way. Curling inside to reach even further until her palm is pressed against Beca’s body. “Jesus Christ,” is how her sentence finishes and she lets Chloe bring her face forward and down again to pick up their kiss where they’d left off.

 

Beca is quick to take what she wants. Chloe’s filling her so perfectly and her palm is so deliciously pressed against Beca’s clit that she doesn’t hesitate to roll her hips forward to start riding her hand. She ignores the satisfied chuckle she hears. She doesn’t need to think about Chloe being proud that she’s so easily able to drive Beca mad with desire. Instead, she thinks about how she knows Chloe is loving this as much as she is and how fucking good it feels to have Chloe’s hand, the one Beca isn’t fucking, grab her ass and encourage her to move more quickly.

 

Not that Beca needs encouragement.

 

She has to break away from their endless kiss. She needs to be able to breathe and Chloe’s mouth is too demanding. She knows she could just grab Chloe’s shoulders and lean back to work her hips but she opts for leaning forward, arms around Chloe’s neck, cheek-to-cheek. She wants to be close, and the way Chloe’s fingernails dig into the soft flesh of her ass tells her Chloe likes it.

 

“You’re so hot,” Chloe praises and Beca moans in her ear. “God, Beca, can you go faster?”

 

She doesn’t really know why Chloe wants her to go faster; it’s not like Beca’s fucking anyone but herself, but maybe Chloe is just enjoying being ridden that much.

 

“Uh-huh,” she manages to respond. It’s easy in their position to bear down and grind herself against Chloe until the only concept that exists in her brain is ‘reckless abandon.’ “Oh, fuck,” she groans when Chloe’s fingers curl just-so and suddenly she’s lightheaded. She holds on tightly, one hand tangling in Chloe’s messy, still-wet hair. ‘Desperate’ is no longer an accurate descriptor for her need. It’s maddening. It’s all-consuming.

 

She’s never been one to be particularly vocal in bed. She’s always caught up in feelings of self-consciousness and concern that she’ll be judged for enjoying something too much.

 

That particular hang-up seems to have been erased, however, and she’s vaguely aware that she might be damaging Chloe’s hearing the way she’s moaning in her ear but it only seems to spur Chloe to praise her which makes Beca further lose her sense of self.

 

She doesn’t know how she hasn’t come yet. She’s been on the verge since Chloe’s fingers slipped into her. But it feels so good, feels so right like they’re meant to fit together this way that she doesn’t want it to end.

 

She’s starting to lose her grip on the thread of control she’s clinging to, though, because Chloe’s moving beneath her like she’s trying to push her hips up into Beca. Like she’s trying to fuck her with something other than what Beca thinks must now be the three fingers inside of her, and she’s moaning like she’s the one on the verge of orgasm.

 

Beca’s not sure what to do with that information, that Chloe might come, too, because she’s enjoying what’s happening just that much. Her body knows what to do with it though, which is to push her past the point of being able to stop it.

 

It must be obvious because Chloe’s repeating, “Come for me,” in her ear over and over until all Beca can do is cling to her as it overtakes her. Her ecstasy flows through her veins quickly with as hard as her heart is pounding, flooding her senses with pleasure that has her seeing stars behind her closed eyelids.

 

She slumps in Chloe’s lap when it’s over, arms still around her neck as her head rests on her own bicep. She’s vaguely aware of how hard Chloe’s breathing and that she’s not collapsing from tired release the way Beca is.

 

“You didn’t come.” Her words are loose in the afterglow, filter absent for now.

 

Chloe’s quiet laugh is strained. “Almost did.”

 

Beca doesn’t like that. She doesn’t like that Chloe didn’t get off when it was obvious she was so close. It empowers her to lift her head and sit up to look at her. Just how close Chloe was is evident on her face. Beca’s watched her orgasm enough times now to know all her tells. “Why not?”

 

Chloe kind of shakes her head like she can’t quite answer the question and Beca thinks she knows. At least, she hopes what crosses her mind is correct: that maybe, just maybe, Chloe wants Beca to be the one to do it for her.

 

After all, that was exactly what Beca had wanted as well. “Tell me what you want.” It’s why she lost her damn mind with need when Chloe started touching her. “I’ll do it.” She kisses her as if to seal her promise and feels herself shiver when Chloe groans with need, her returning kiss borderline obscene and dripping with desire.

 

Beca thinks she shouldn’t be surprised that they seem to be mutually insatiable, at least when it comes to each other, after how mind-blowing their first time was last night. After how shameless they had been with their mutual, or sometimes solo but performative, masturbation. Fucking themselves at the breakfast table in broad daylight probably should have been a clue. Or maybe even before that when Beca tugged on Chloe’s hair, just a bit, as Chloe played with herself because Beca knew Chloe would like it.

 

“Just touch me,” Chloe says before nipping at Beca’s bottom lip. “Please.”

 

It’s an easy request. One that only needs Beca to shift back a couple of inches so there’s room to fit her hand between them. She doesn’t stop kissing Chloe as she does it, pausing only for the briefest of moments to let her fingers pluck at hard nipples before she’s sliding her hand between Chloe’s legs.

 

“Fuck,” she says against Chloe’s lips. Chloe’s so wet that Beca can feel it against the bedding beneath her when she reaches far enough to push her fingers into her.

 

Chloe’s reaction is quick, her jaw dropping for a moment to moan Beca’s name before her mouth is on Beca’s again.

 

Beca savors the way Chloe tightens appreciatively around her fingers before she withdraws them. The angle isn’t great for that but what she can do is play with Chloe’s swollen clit.

 

Chloe shows her gratitude for that with her voice between kisses, moans, and Beca’s name and begging for harder and faster. Harder and faster until Beca’s bracing herself and pressing her knees into the bed for leverage to grind into Chloe’s clit in a way that has Chloe’s hips nearly levitating as she leans back, one hand behind her for support and the other mindlessly grabbing at Beca’s breast and an endless stream of curse words until— 

 

“Shit, Beca, I’m gonna come.”

 

She announces it and though Beca is well-aware of that fact, she appreciates it all the same. Chloe telling her that, because it’s Beca fucking her, makes her own cunt clench with need and she’s not really thinking when she grabs Chloe’s hand to yank it off her breast and shove it back between her legs. 

 

“Fuck me again. I wanna come with you.” No filter. Just desire.

 

Chloe’s head falls back and she somehow moans even louder. Beca considers the fact that it’s the middle of the day and there’s no chance that their neighbors aren’t hearing this, but she doesn’t care. Not when Chloe’s fingers are back on her clit, rubbing with very little (and completely unnecessary) precision.

 

She hadn’t let up on her attention to Chloe and she’s ready for it when she feels—and hears, and sees—Chloe rocketing toward the cliff. She’s just as close from listening to Chloe and she doubles-down on her efforts to send them both over the edge.

 

There’s a sudden racket above them, someone stomping on their ceiling and shouting but it only makes them laugh in acknowledgment before returning their voices to the aftershocks of their mutual release.

 

“Fuck,” Beca eventually says through a laugh of disbelief. “That was…I don’t even know.”

 

She also doesn’t know when they ended up lying down. Chloe’s arm must have given out—or she gave up trying to stay upright—when she came because Chloe’s on her back and Beca’s on top of her, the angle kind of awkward and uncomfortable with how close they are to the edge of of the bed. Neither of them seems to mind, though, because she lifts her head and turns to kiss Chloe without hesitating, and Chloe wraps her arms around Beca and sighs into it.

 

“We are so good at that,” Chloe says with a smile once the kiss slows to a natural end. She heaves a sigh and Beca can feel the way Chloe’s heart is still pounding. “I honestly didn’t know if you’d want to do it again.”

 

Beca thinks that is absurd and the look on her face must illustrate her feelings because Chloe gives her A Look.

 

“We did it, like, four times or something last night,” Beca says, finally finding the strength to push herself off of Chloe to crawl up the bed so she can flop onto her back and cool down. “You thought I’d change my mind?”

 

She watches Chloe do the same, a slow struggle of rolling over to pull herself up into her side of the bed, though she remains stretched out on her stomach, head propped up on folded arms. Beca has the distinct urge to reach over and trace invisible patterns over her back.

 

“Well, you know,” Chloe says with an awkward shrug, given her position, “it could have been a heat of the moment kind of thing.”

 

Beca still feels stripped bare, mentally in addition to the physical. Chloe unfolding her arm to reach over and rest her hand over Beca’s left breast to idly hold it, her thumb brushing back and forth across her nipple, keeps her from putting any filters back into place. Chloe likes the connection. She wants to touch Beca, to keep her in the moment. It’s exactly what she had done last night after the first time, teasing Beca’s nipple until she was begging for Chloe to make her come again.

 

Right now, though, it’s comforting. Reassuring. Safe. And Beca knows they’re not finished, that this conversation is only an intermission so while her arousal simmers on low, she’s able to think soundly. “Well, if I didn’t make myself clear last night,” she says, bringing her hand up to rest over Chloe’s, “I’m totally down to keep doing this.”

 

Chloe’s gentle smile starts to grow until she’s pushing herself up onto an elbow and angling herself to hover above Beca. “Yeah?”

 

“Our neighbors are going to hate us. You’re so fucking loud,” she says, glancing at Chloe’s lips because she wants to kiss them.

 

Chloe tilts her head. “I’m loud? I think my ear is still ringing.”

 

Beca feels herself blush but she’s not embarrassed. “Whatever.”

 

“God, you came so hard for me.” Chloe’s words sound like honey again and Beca knows they’re about to be finished talking. “Think you can do it again?” Her hand is already pulling out from under Beca’s, leaving her to play with her own nipple as Chloe’s moves lower.

 

Beca’s own hands weave their way into Chloe’s messy hair to pull her down for the kiss she’s been waiting for. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

 

The End (...again)