"He poured gin in her glass instead of the tea he was supposed to," Jesse mumbles against her collarbone, teeth just grazing the fine slope of the bone.
"Is that right?" Beca responds, amused as she let's her boyfriend trail his lips across her skin.
"Didn't even tell Hattie McDaniel that he was going to do it," he presses a kiss to the hollow where her neck meets her sternum, "I think it's safe to say that she was surprised."
"He sounds like a dick."
"Clark Gable?" she can hear outrage in Jesse's voice, and she swats at him when he gives a punishing nip to the space just between her breasts. "How dare you."
She chuckles as he shifts over her, moving himself so that he fits more easily between the cradle of her hips. Jesse lifts his head to meet her eyes, a smirk tugging at the side of that glorious mouth.
"I'm sorry, " she offers, raising her hands up to tangle in the bars of their headboard, "please continue giving me pointless trivia about Gone With the Wind."
Jesse chuckles, his breath hot against her skin, and Beca digs her teeth into her lips to control the goosebumps that break out across her breasts.
"This is all part of your movication Beca," he warns, and she holds back the sigh when his lips finally make their way over the fabric of her bra.
"Is fondling me part of it as well?" she can't help herself, and she jerks when Jesse pinches her in the side. "Hey! Not cool nerd."
"Shh," he admonishes, and he's looking up at her with those big brown eyes, adoration clear in the flecks of gold. It's hard to deny the boy you love anything when he's looking at you like that, especially when he's bracing himself with those strong arms on opposite side of your hipbones, his stomach a comfortable weight against your pelvis.
Beca rolls her eyes because she can.
She didn't ask for the history lesson. She'd done her duty and sat through the full four hours of Gone With the Wind, listening to Jesse lament about the sheer beauty of the score, even putting up with his very obvious boner for Clark Gable, the leading man. She was surprised that he hadn't been drooling over Vivien Leigh, but then again, she'd actually been a bit absorbed in this one, so she hadn't really been paying attention.
Of course she'd made the mistake of asking him about the film's production, an innocent question that she really should have known not to ask, because there was never going to be a short or easy answer when it came to anything cinema related. He'd begun explaining it all to her, his lips pressed against her temple before moving down to the line of her jaw. Soon this movication also became a bit of foreplay.
"The scene where Rhett carries Scarlett upstairs to ravish her," his hands grip her hips more tightly, and it's not her imagination that Jesse has moved himself further down her body, making sure to press himself as tightly to her skin as possible. "They had it done in just a few takes, but Fleming decided that he was going to play a little joke on Gable."
Beca's mouth falls open slightly as Jesse's teeth catch at the fabric of her bra, her nipples tightening at the pressure there. She tightens her grip on the headboard and makes sure to press up and against him in encouragement.
Too much encouragement, because she catches the line of his erection with her pelvis, and Jesse immediately stills.
"Beca," he grunts, pressing his forehead to her chest, and the grip he has on her waist is tight enough to bruise. She hisses when he pins her more heavily to the bed with his hips, stopping all further movement. Not yet, he seems to say with his body. Fuck yes, she wants to say with hers.
He doesn't move to speak again or even to continue his happy little trail down her body, so Beca lets her grip slacken, and her body fall deeper into the mattress. She gives a frustrated sigh.
Jesse flashes a grin up at her annoyed expression. "So he told Gable to do it again," he punctuates the statement with a kiss to her belly. "And again," he drags his lips down over her navel, "and again." Beca grits her teeth when Jesse's tongue presses against the jut of her hipbone.
"It's a million steps and Gable just scooped Vivien up each and every single time. No complaints."
"Well he does have those awesome shoulders," she says, eyes sliding shut as he pays particular attention to the skin where the fabric of her panties end. His hands have moved lower, and those clever fingers are pressing into the inside of her thigh. "Looks like he could cart a girl around for hours."
Jesse snorts and she can picture the funny little furrow he gets when she comments on the musculature of any other guy.
"What, you think that you could do it?" Beca's laugh is musical, "you totally would have dropped her flat on her ass."
Jesse stops. "Aca-scuse me? I could totally caveman any girl up a flight of stairs."
Beca's eyes slide open, moreso in annoyance that he had stopped touching her.
"Maybe with a rope and pulley."
"Hey," Jesse's hands have fallen off of her legs entirely and he's pushed himself up so that he can look at her more sternly. "I am really strong. You are totally dating the Hulk right here."
Beca screws her face up, unimpressed. "I don't do the whole green thing, and I never said that you weren't strong. Calm your tits."
"You said that I'd drop you if I tried to carry you up a flight of stairs."
"I don't think my name was every mentioned," she says loftily. He gives her a look.
"Jesse," she sighs, bringing her hand down so that it tangles in the auburn curls of his stupid head. "I believe that you can caveman any girl up a flight of stairs. But Clark Gable was built like a linebacker babe."
Jesse seems to accept this explanation, though she suspects that he's just taking advantage of the fact that she's essentially massaging his head. Her fingers card through the thick locks, and he heaves a contented sigh.
"Besides, you didn't think I was in this for your wit and charm did you?" she cocks an eyebrow and grins with satisfaction as her hand trails down to curl around the bicep of his right arm.
Now Jesse looks smug.
"I thought it was for my movie star good looks," he quips, satisfied and back to twinkling those big brown eyes.
"This mug?" she moves her other hand around the back of his neck and tugs him back up towards her face. "Don't be stupid," she presses her lips to his, tongue sweep against the plump flesh of his lower lip.
Jesse is kneeling over her now and his one hand wraps around the grip she has on the headboard. Their fingers tangle.
"Now," she sighs into his mouth, eyes stern. "If you don't put your hands back where they were and touch me, I'm going to throw your entire movie collection into a dumpster and burn it to the ground."
"That seems a bit extreme," he says, but his eyes are crinkling at the corners and he's got that brilliant smile on his face as he settles his weight against her again.
Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn, pops up in her head, and it's so perfectly a Jesse response that she has to swallow it down hard. He would enjoy that too much. No.
"Don't tell me that I have to do everything myself," she breaths against his lips, and smirks when his pupils dilate at the thought of her touching herself. Boys.
"Your independent streak is one your very best qualities," he says quite pompously, and narrowly avoids getting smacked in the head for his efforts. He's laughing now, his lips pressing sloppy kisses to the hollow of her throat as she tries to buck him off of her half-heartedly.
"Your jokes are your very worst," she retorts, but doesn't fight the smile when his lips press against hers and his fingers finally find their way back to the swell of her hips. Distantly, in the back of her mind, the theme from Gone With the Wind swells to a triumphant crescendo.