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A Moment's Reprieve

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     It starts slow, the attraction.

     Manageable.

     Just a harmless crush.

     And Chloe isn't even sure when it happens, can only be certain that it does and that there's no going back. No way to change it or stop it now that it's arrived. It's only after the thought cements itself that she starts noticing what she's doing. What she's probably been doing for a while now.

     She leans in a littler closer than she does with anyone else, finds limbs brushing with more frequency when they're sat beside one another or walking close. Her hands linger a little longer than normal at Beca's hips, her arms, as they trail along her fingers, and it's not so much about helping the brunette with the choreography anymore. If it ever was.

     It's about just touching Beca, because Chloe finds herself unable hold back. She always has, but this....

     Addiction springs to the forefront of her mind and it's then that Chloe realises she's in trouble.


     Weariness drags her body to her bed, depositing it atop the covers and pulling a groan from her. Practise had been particularly brutal in a variety of ways and Chloe wants to sink into unconscious and finally rest. Rest her body and her brain. Put thoughts of murdering Aubrey to one side while she shoves those centred around pinning Beca to the nearest wall in the opposite direction. Fingers disappear into red curls and grasp a handful.

     Part of her wonders if Beca has any idea. What she's doing, without actually doing anything. Chloe's almost always sure it's unintended, that the looks and the dry flirtation aren't what she thinks they are, but then there are days like today where part of her is screaming about how Beca has to know. Has to. She can't be blind to the way she presses back into Chloe as they're going over moves and laughs in that stupid, giggly way she almost never does when she trips over Chloe's feet and falls into the other woman. Pressing their bodies together in a way Chloe can feel right down to her toes and sometimes it's too much. Heat races under her skin and it's all she can do not to tremble.

     A surge of adrenaline rushes her at the memory, sweeping her up and off her feet in an instant only to drop her in the lap of desire itself.

     She wants Beca. She wants Beca in ways she's never wanted another person. Enough that she hasn't simply walked over and made her desires known like she would with anyone else. Beca's different. And every inch of Chloe feels that whenever she's in her presence.

     Her eyelids slide closed and blue eyes light the darkness that welcomes her. There comes the brush of soft hair against her cheek and then her breath hitches at the brush of lips against the shell of her ear.

     “You want me to touch you?” Chloe feels her gut tighten, her breath hitch. Her cheeks are burning and all the air has left the room but somehow she finds enough to whisper.

     “Yes.” The sound of Beca's laughter teases the side of her face and goosebumps scatter to all ends of her body. Her toes curl against the bedspread, tugging uselessly on the material as she licks suddenly dry lips. Chloe feels a single fingertip wander from her wrist to her shoulder and she shudders.

     “How much?” The air leaves her in an unexpected and noisy exhalation and Chloe's brow furrows, an odd mix of emotion rushing up to greet her without warning.

     “Sometimes....” her voice is a murmur in the dark, “I feel like I'll die if you don't.” She doesn't close off her emotions, it's something people either love or hate about her. It's something that endears her to some and gets her into trouble with others.

     But it doesn't seem to do anything at all to Beca.

     The most Chloe receives is an eyeroll or begrudging smiles that seem a little too soft at the edges to be truly resentful.

     Chloe wishes she didn't need more.

     “I feel that too.” Beca's voice is low, husky almost in a way Chloe can't remember ever hearing before, not that she tries very hard to call anything to mind. A hand flattens against her collarbone for a fistful of heartbeats before slender fingers curl around the neckline of her shirt. Heat prickles along the back of Chloe's neck and her chest heaves at the touch then holds as lips press against her ear once more. “Like all the air will leave the room if I don't just reach out and....” Fingertips drift lower and dance over the swell of a breast and Chloe's mouth opens to spill silent sounds of pleasure. “Do you want me, Chloe?”

     She wonders when exactly this fantasy took on a life of its own.

     She does not wonder why she doesn't care.

     “Beca.” It leaves her as a whispered whine, a plea of sorts. Beca's nose brushes her cheek and the feather-light kiss that's pressed to the same spot an instant later is enough to still her heart in her chest.

     “Say it.” Lips map a trail from cheek to ear and though the journey is a short one, Chloe's breath comes in gasps more befitting someone who's run a marathon. Warmth surrounds her lobe, soft wetness lapping at the flesh before the burn of biting teeth follow it. Chloe hisses, Beca laughs again. “Say it, out loud.” Chloe swallows hard and grits her teeth. Her blood is pounding in her ears and there's an ache between her thighs that is building with every second and she can feel Beca beside her.

     “I want you.” She licks her lips again and lets go of the duvet she's been clutching only long enough to wipe the perspiration from her palms. “I need....” She feels the bed dip, she's sure, feels the weight of another person bearing down on her, thighs bracketing her hips and pressing them down into the mattress.

     “What do you need?” Beca's breath ghosts across her face. Chloe breathes it in, feels drunk. Her hands tug uselessly the quilt, then she feels hips roll down and grind against her and her entire body is on fire. “Know what I need?” Beca's words are broken by a groan and Chloe's hips cant upward without permission. She can see Beca now. How her hair drifts lazily about her face and the way her lips have fallen open at Chloe's movements. One corner of her mouth quirks up as their eyes meet and Chloe feels ice and fire rush her all at once. Beca's upper body bends and the shadows find them once more as dark hair curtains them off. “I need you, Chloe.” Then there are lips on hers and she's drowning in a sea of desire and longing that builds inside her like a tidal wave.

     It's not enough. The memory, the idea of it, will fade. But in the moment it burns Chloe from the inside out.

     Her breaths become deeper, more ragged, as Beca's kisses sweep along her jaw and over her neck. Teeth sink into the sensitive flesh at her pulse point and Chloe's fingers tangle themselves in hair that feels so, so real. In the moment. The skin is hot and raw when Beca pulls away, pressing a final kiss to the reddened area, and there's a fist-sized knot in her stomach that's grown so tight Chloe doesn't know how she's still breathing.

     She feels Beca pull back and then deft hands are slipping beneath the thin material of her shirt, drawing a quiet whimper from her. They drift over the flat plains of her stomach, muscles twitching and chasing the touch as it travels, until the backs of Beca's knuckles brush the undersides of Chloe's breasts. The redhead lets out a gasp and the sound echoes in the dim quiet of the room.

     “How badly do you want me?” She feels Beca's knuckles trail up and around, then there's a sharp pain as she sinks her teeth into her lower lip to stop from moaning aloud when they're dragged lazily over hardened peaks. Chloe's eyes roll into the back of her head and her hips rock in a futile attempt to garner some sort of friction, but none if forthcoming. “Not gonna answer?” Beca's hands flatten to grasp at flesh and Chloe's lip finally slips from her grasp, a breathy moan hot on its tail. She feels Beca press down into her once more and then, “Should I just... check myself?”

     Beca's moving down her body with the kind of slow seduction that belongs in erotic late night movies and Chloe aches in so many different ways she feels dizzy. Things begin to spin the instant her shirt is pushed up and lips touch the skin to the side of her navel, even with her eyes closed, and the breath she tries to take catches in her throat as teeth and tongue work in earnest to leave marks upon her skin.

     “Beca, please.” There's an edge of desperation to her voice that's harsher now, more frantic. There's a flashing behind her eyes she can't focus on and a warmth pooling low in her abdomen that's begging for her attention.

     Then Beca's weight is gone and panic freezes the fire in Chloe's veins, but it only lasts an instant. She feels phantom fingertips trail along the exposed skin between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her sweats, feels a thumb dip below and gently snap the elastic.

     “Take them off.” And it's not as though she'll ever be able to say no to Beca, be it in real life or a fantasy.

     So she does as she's asked, as she's told, and hooks her thumbs under the band to push her pants down. She can feel Beca's eyes on her, burning, teasing the hair on the back of her neck and tops of her arms into rising. Coupled with the way her heart is beating, she leaves them bunched at her ankles, too impatient to tug them the rest of the way. She falls back against the bed, the pleasant thrill of anticipation trickling through her. It's cloying and coats her insides like oil.

     “I want to watch you.” And Beca's whispered words are like a match. She lets out a ragged breath. “Please.” Chloe's fingers graze the outside of her thigh and she feels her entire body shudder. She can't remember the last time she'd been worked into such a state, one that made her feel as though she'd go off like a rocket at the first touch of fingertips where she needed it most. “Please, Chloe.” If the sound of Beca's pleas breathed into her ear didn't set her off first.

     She brings a hand to rest between her legs, the other trailing idly across her stomach, and her breath hitches again before leaving her in a long, slow stream as she presses the flat of her fingers against herself over the cotton of her underwear. She's wet enough that she can feel it through the barrier and she hears Beca groan beside her like the other woman can feel it. The sound makes her stomach roll and twist. She adds pressure to the touch and starts to turn her fingers in slow circles, eyes fluttering closed.

     “Are you imagining it's me?” Beca's voice floats in from everywhere, envelopes Chloe like a blanket. Tightens around her and presses against her until her breathing turns shallow. “Do you always think about me?” Chloe's affirmation comes in the form of a sigh, one that slides steadily into a whimper as she feels Beca drag her nails gentle along her upper arm. Slim fingers encircle the wrist resting against her pelvic bone and for a second Chloe's hand stills. “I wish I could touch you.” And that burning in the pit of her stomach suddenly roars ever higher and she's moving her hand again, bringing it up over the front of her shorts and slipping it beneath the waistband. Pushing down until she's greeting warm wetness with a whine of pleasure. She feels Beca's teeth at her lobe once more and her body gives another involuntary shudder before lips at her neck have her back arching from the bed and her fingers slipping against slick skin. “I wish I could taste you.” Chloe's free hand bunches the material of her shirt and she gives a slow, purposeful roll of her hips. “Don't you?” Chloe's slow and languorous pace quickens as she feels Beca pant against her ear.

     “Yes.” The word becomes a whispered chant as Beca's tongue traces the curve of her collarbone and Chloe's fingers increase their speed as teeth graze skin once more. What were once steady and sure strokes become fumbled and frantic and Chloe's hips rock with a matching lack of coordination. Her fingers twist the bed covers and she imagines threading them through Beca's hair and pulling with the same intensity. Her hips jerk painfully at the image.

     “Do you wish I was inside you?” A choked sound leaves her, a noise caught between a moan and something else, and as she opens her mouth to release it her chant continues.

     “Yes.” She whispers, a jagged edge to her voice now. Her chest heaves as though she can't pull in enough air. “Yes.” And Beca's gentle laughter once again fills the void between Chloe's words.

     “I wish I could feel you.” The sound of Beca's voice washes over her even as she turns her head to press it as much into the pillow as she can; a feeble attempt to quiet the sounds she now can't help but make. Her legs are shaking, her whole body feels as thought it's trembling just a little. “Hear you say my name.” A bolt of arousal is jerked up from between her legs to bleed warmth into the pit of her stomach and she can feel the wave roll closer. Knows it won't be long before it's crashing against the rocks.

     “Beca....” She imagines the press of a slender form against her again, surrounding her, blanketing her. Wants to buck and rock against it, but is denied. She feels lips at her throat, exposed by the angle of her neck, and squeezes her eyes closed as warm breath drifts across it. She bites down on her bottom lip hard enough for pain to shoot along her spine, but she doesn't release it. Can't.

     “Come for me, Chloe.” Her knuckles turn white against the deep purple of the duvet and her hips suddenly lock in place. Her fingers continue to move despite her giving them no conscious command to and the air rushes from her lungs as if pulled by an unseen force, something indescribable nipping closely at its heels and flooding to all ends of her body. She's simultaneously numb and over-sensitive and it feels like every nerve ending in her body is suddenly shocked awake. The orgasm rolls in and over her like thunder and for a second or two there's even lightning. And everything feels so good the urge to cry out is almost overwhelming, but she catches herself in time to mumble “fuck” into the pillowcase. Then it's a dreamy, electrically-charged stroll downwards prompted by still circling fingers that draw out every last tremor and aftershock until finally stilling.

     Her body hums. Her heartbeat begins to slow. Her eyelids flicker as she imagines fingers brushing slightly damp curls away from her forehead. She drops her hand back to the bed and blinks her eyes open, running her tongue over her bottom lip to soothe it as her legs fall together and limply to one side.

     And she takes a moment to stare at the empty spot on the bed beside her. Takes a moment to think, while her thoughts are still hazy from desire and free of the fog that usually clutters her mind.

     It had started slow, the attraction.

     But Chloe doesn't think it's just attraction anymore.