Sometimes Beca’s convinced that she’s living in an alternate universe where everyone operates by porn rules, because it doesn’t entirely make sense to her how this happened in this one.
“Make it through practice without slacking off, talking back, or otherwise trying to undermine my authority,” Aubrey had said on the day the world went askew, towering over her and furious, “and I’ll make it worth your while, do you understand?”
Beca hadn’t, but it hadn’t seemed like too much of an effort to give it one day of good behavior to see what happened. She’d thought she’d get to have some input in private, maybe, or a chance to change Aubrey’s mind about the incredibly stale music selection. A chance to prove that her way was better, even.
Instead, she’d found herself in a seat on the front row of the bleachers with her jeans around her ankles and Aubrey looking up at her from between her legs.
“I’m going to work with you on your level,” Aubrey had said, pushing Beca’s legs open as widely as the seat would allow. “It’s simple. Behave and you’ll get a treat.”
She’d tried to stammer out some sort of, well, not objection, necessarily, but at least some kind of snappy comeback.
“And don’t even try to tell me this isn’t the kind of thing that’s going to work for you. We’ve all seen the ear spike.”
And she’d been a little furious about that because, seriously, stereotyping, but she’d decided to table it until after Aubrey concluded her demonstration. It was only polite.
Besides, there’d been technique at play. It wasn’t simply Aubrey taking her responsibilities as captain to a place well beyond the bounds of seriously, or if it was, it wasn’t just that. If that’d been the case, Beca would have expected frustrating ineptitude, and Aubrey was anything but. There’d been actual application of theory, or whatever it was called when someone seemed to put thought into whether the use of suction was appropriate or not or if a particular move was shown in its best light with a tongue that was soft or firm.
“Holy shit,” she’d said, winding her fingers into Aubrey’s hair and straining up towards that fabulous, vindictive mouth.
Aubrey had pulled back, taken Beca by the wrist and put her hand firmly back on the arm of the chair, and scowled. “Not allowed,” she’d said, and lowered her head again.
Seconds later, Beca was too busy having a frankly amazing orgasm to really bother with it.
So maybe she could experiment a little bit more, she’d decided. She could be good at another practice and see what that brought her, and it wasn’t like she was trading in any sort of personal fortitude or principles just because Aubrey had gone down on her like a pro.
“Aren’t you worried someone will see?” she’d asked after the next practice, when Aubrey pushed her down onto the piano bench, bare from the waist down. “This is kind of, I don’t know, public.”
“I have the gym booked for the next two hours,” Aubrey said distractedly, urging Beca’s legs up so that her feet were resting on the bench and pressing back on her chest so that she was leaning on the mercifully closed piano, “in case anyone wants to put in extra practice time.”
Which had happened approximately never, as far as Beca could tell.
That day, she’d finished with a scream that echoed through the cavernous, blessedly empty space, hands in her own hair for lack of a better place to put them.
She’d quickly come to the decision that Aubrey would have made an excellent evil scientist. Rewards came immediately – if Beca behaved appropriately, she received hers as soon as the other girls cleared the gym. If she didn’t, she was ignored.
“You could put a little more enthusiasm into your smile,” Aubrey told her one day, and already at the limit of what she could take from her, Beca spent the rest of practice wearing a plasticy fake smile that would have put a flight attendant to shame.
After, Aubrey had calmly packed her things and left along with everyone else.
The next practice, when Aubrey smiled warmly back at her own approximately genuine smile and said, “That’s a definite improvement, Beca,” her instant and overwhelming arousal had made the rest of practice a trial of fortitude.
“I can see that you’re really trying,” Aubrey told her when the gym cleared and Beca’s pants were a long forgotten memory. “I think you earned a little bonus. You can have one hand free to touch me, or I can also use my fingers today. Which do you prefer?”
For a moment, Beca’s mind had gone totally and completely blank. Having to choose from two such equally appealing options had to be some sort of violation of decency and humanity.
After a long moment of utter silence, Aubrey sighed. “Let me know when you make up your mind. I’m just going to go ahead.”
A minute later, hand hovering over the top of Aubrey’s head: “Can’t I have both?”
“Don’t be greedy.”
A minute more: “Fingers. Oh god, fingers.”
It’d been a good choice.
One of the saddest things about quitting the Bellas was just how lonely she was. Those girls had become her friends despite the odds, and she – and this was only somewhat hard to admit – missed them. She missed Fat Amy and Chloe and Cynthia Rose and Stacie and Lilly and…
She missed her beyond high-quality oral on the regular. She missed her scowl and that look of frustration she’d get when Beca did something particularly egregious, like turn the hand-heart into a hand-triangle. She missed checking out her ass in the skin-tight yoga pants Aubrey had a habit of wearing and the way that, sometimes, she’d smile and it’d be so clear and pure that it almost hurt to look at her. So when Chloe sent her the text, letting her know the Bellas were back in, she’d returned with the best of intentions. It was going to be smooth sailing and yes ma’ams for the duration and maybe, when Aubrey kept her around after practice, she’d flip the script. She’d push Aubrey into one of those uncomfortable bleacher seats, slide the yoga pants off of those long, long legs, and demonstrate to her just how very, very long Beca could hold her breath.
She certainly didn’t expect cat fights, vomit angels, and a freshly disinfected captain’s whistle being pressed into her hand.
The entirety of their first practice with something other than Ace of Base drifting up to the rafters barely registered through Beca’s anxiety. “Hey Aubrey,” she said as the Bellas began to peel off, so nervous that it had to be clear in her voice, “would you mind staying back for a minute?”
Aubrey, ever ready to face a potential problem head on, watched quietly as Beca tried to find her words. It didn’t help.
“Screw this,” Beca muttered finally, closing the distance between them in two long strides. It took the exertion of a little bit of muscle to get Aubrey to bend enough to be in kissable distance, but Beca had always been better with action anyway.
Aubrey, predictably, was an excellent kisser, and it was kind of odd that this was the first time Beca had been able to confirm that, but, well, they hadn’t exactly gone about things in order.
“No, wait,” Beca said, because somehow her jeans were already unzipped and over her hips. “How do you do that? It is some kind of weird superpower?”
Aubrey looked down at her and shook her head, mildly irritated. “What?”
“Stop. I have a plan,” Beca said, grabbing Aubrey’s wrists. It was too late for the jeans. They were already at mid-thigh, somehow, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to be sidetracked completely. “Sit.”
Aubrey crossed her arms over her chest.
“Can you please just sit?”
She did, but didn’t look happy about it.
“I thought it was time we switched places,” Beca said, pulling her jeans up and buttoning them resolutely. “I want to, you know…”
If it was possible for Aubrey to look less impressed, Beca didn’t know how.
“Am I reading this all wrong?” Beca asked, trying not to look as uncomfortable as she felt. “I thought… Are you not? There was… you did kiss me back, and you definitely spent a significant amount of time on your knees with your tongue between my legs for a straight girl.”
This time, her feedback was an epic roll of the eyes.
“Give me a clue here, Aubrey. Are you not interested? Is that it? You’re not into me? You… what? I honestly don’t know.”
Aubrey shrugged. “I liked it better before.”
Beca shoved her hands in her pockets awkwardly. “Okay. So you, what? You give? You don’t receive?” Aubrey’s glare was withering. “No. Okay, you do, but you want me to…” She trailed off, hoping Aubrey would take pity on her and fill in the gap.
After an uncomfortably long time, Aubrey finally stood, shoulders squared, again towering over Beca. “I don’t take orders,” she said, looking at Beca as if this should have been obvious. “I give them.”
Beca took a few seconds to let that sink in. “I see,” she said, unable to suppress a sly smirk. “Well, just so you know, practice isn’t the only time I can be on my best behavior.”
“Really?” Aubrey questioned, voice flat and clearly unconvinced.
“Oh, absolutely.” Beca slid down to her knees, the expression on her face daring Aubrey to do her worst. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”
Aubrey slid a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her forehead. Beca went with the pressure, closing her eyes and tilting her head back, hands at her sides.
“And you’re going to do everything I tell you?” Aubrey asked doubtfully, momentarily tightening her grip.
“Fine. Take off your shirt.”
Beca did. Slowly, because she might as well give a little show while she was at it.
“Good. Now your bra.”
Which was oddly harder. She felt suddenly, ridiculously vulnerable, on her knees and topless with Aubrey staring down at her with an unreadable expression, and had to wonder if that was the intention.
Now moving with the leisure of time, Aubrey resituated herself in the chair she’d so recently disdained. “Hand them to me.”
Beca watched, baffled, as Aubrey meticulously folded her shirt into a square and placed it on the ground in front of her. “For your knees,” she said, and looked almost bashful.
It did help. The gym floor wasn’t terribly forgiving, and Beca wondered if she’d totally missed Aubrey doing something like that for herself all of those times she was down there.
“I’ve been curious,” Aubrey said, leaning forward to run her hand over the side of Beca’s breast and down to cup it, her thumb brushing against the nipple. “You don’t disappoint.”
Which meant Aubrey had been thinking about her breasts; it was so incredibly gratifying she almost forgot to blush. “You could have, anytime,” she said, stumbling. Lost, for a minute, in thinking about how awesome that would have been, and why hadn’t they done that before?
“You can take my pants off now,” Aubrey said, immediately snapping her back into the present.
She tried not to look as eager as she was, then abandoned any hope of it. She was eager, and from the way Aubrey was grinning at her, it was appreciated. There was no fumbling – she was surprisingly smooth. Button, zipper, hands at Aubrey’s hips tugging, and oh, shit, Aubrey lifting herself up so that they slid free. Beca grabbed a wisp of silk that was apparently her panties and it was a real moral quandary for a second because it probably would have been pretty hot to see Aubrey with those in place and then to, she didn’t know, maybe pull them down with her teeth or something, but this was excellent also. Aubrey had dancers legs, all lean muscle, and anyway, there had to be things to look forward to in the future.
Aubrey leaned forward, so close she was once again well in kissable range. “Now,” she said, as Beca leaned forward unconsciously, “I want to watch you get yourself off.”
Beca blinked. She’d thought that was going to go somewhere completely different. “You want to what?”
“Watch you,” Aubrey repeated, glancing down.
Touch herself, Beca finished. She was on her knees between Aubrey’s legs, so very close to glistening pink skin, and Aubrey wanted her to touch herself.
“Okay,” she said, voice a little shaky. She fumbled with the button on her jeans, fumbled in general, and stopped only when they were around mid-thigh and Aubrey spoke again.
“That’s far enough.”
She took in a deep breath, because for someone who’d joined a group of girls who made music with their mouths and competed up and down the seaboard in front of moderately small crowds, Beca wasn’t actually a huge fan of being the center of attention. And Aubrey hadn’t sat back, so she was still right there, watching her from inches away, and Beca looked down, definitely blushing this time.
She brought a hand between her legs experimentally, a little surprised by just how wet she was. Aubrey’s eyes followed her movements, which made things somewhat easier. It was something she actually hadn’t done all that often since starting at Barden, because Kimmy Jin had a sixth sense that prompted her to return to their room at the exact moment when Beca was doing something she’d rather not have anyone else see, and she’d never really quite gotten comfortable doing anything other than showering in the showers. When she had indulged, it hadn’t been something over which she’d lingered. She’d always been a fan of focused and to the point, and any other time, as aroused as she was, she was pretty sure she could have handled business in less than a minute. Ninety seconds, tops.
This time, each small movement of her hand intensified the look on Aubrey’s face, the one that read like Beca was likely, at any moment, to be pushed down onto the floor and straight up fucked, no other word for it. She was licking her lips unconsciously, hands white-knuckle tight on the arms of her chair, and it sent a thrill of anticipation down Beca’s spine.
She reconsidered the value of lingering.
Rarely, in the past, had she done anything with her free hand other than grip the sheets, but as she continued to rub lazy circles against her clit, slowly and inexorably bringing herself to the edge, she felt an uncontrollable need to touch. It manifested itself in a tight grip on her breast, messier than she’d allow if the breast had been any other than her own. Light didn’t register, not above the way she was beginning to tighten in anticipation, but she’d never really been one to get rough with herself.
Why, she didn’t know, because the tight pinch of her fingers on her nipple felt amazing.
She made a soft noise deep in her throat and Aubrey’s eyes snapped up. Suddenly conscious of every move – if she looked as desperate as she felt in that moment, she might not ever be able to look Aubrey in the eyes again – she nonetheless brought herself closer and closer until it was an inevitability, the way she lurched forward, trembling.
Aubrey met her halfway, her kiss soothing, somehow.
As Beca’s heart rate returned to something approaching normal with Aubrey’s lips still soft against hers, she made a note to make Aubrey promise to never, ever tell anyone what she’d just done.
“I want you,” Aubrey said softly, still so close her lips brushed against Beca’s, “to use your tongue. I don’t want you to stop until I tell you that you can. Do you think you can do that?”
The answer was hell yes; Beca thought Aubrey might appreciate a little restraint, so simply nodded.
She took a moment to look at Aubrey: on the edge of the seat with her legs spread wide, thoroughly unashamed. This, she suspected, was likely highly addictive.
Whatever she’d imagined, the reality was better. Aubrey was hot against her tongue. Hot and open and deliciously wet, with one leg coming up to hook over Beca’s shoulder. Her fingers wound into Beca’s hair and Beca settled in, shifting until she was comfortable on her knees. She braced one hand against Aubrey’s hip and slid the other under her thigh and moved slowly, as if she too had the luxury of infinite time.
By the time Aubrey finally gasped out a command to stop, Beca was confident she’d made significant headway in evening the score between them.
“Do you maybe want to do this somewhere more comfortable next time?” Beca asked when they were both once against fully dressed and awkwardness hung around the corner, just waiting to descend.
Aubrey gave a half-shrug. “Yeah, sure. My place?”
“And maybe we could go out to dinner before?” Beca asked, trying not to sound hopeful. “Or coffee, or something?”
“Or something,” Aubrey agreed, her smile the kind of brilliant Beca wasn't used to seeing. The kind of brilliant she could absolutely get used to.