Archive of Our Own ^beta

Beca isn’t really sure how this happened.

Actually, she does. Beca Mitchell is a sucky friend. It’s hard enough for her to maintain a meaningful relationship when she sees a person on a regular basis. When they’re halfway across the country from each other, Beca can’t really be trusted to keep up contact. So, when she moved to LA after Worlds, she knew she’d inevitably lose contact with most of the Bellas. She just hadn’t really meant to lose contact with Chloe, too.

Chloe stayed in Georgia after being offered a job teaching music at an elementary school. She’d tried to keep in contact with the awkward aspiring DJ after they went their separate ways. But Beca was busy as a junior assistant at Residual Heat’s LA office and often missed Chloe’s texts and calls and she took far too long to remember to reply. Slowly, the calls and texts stopped coming. Before they knew it, it had been four years since they’d seen each other.

That all changed when they ran into each other that night.

“Oh… my… God !” A voice squeals, and Beca instinctively cringes. She turns to face the newcomer, grinning when she saw the speaker.

“Chloe freaking Beale,” Beca nods appreciatively. “What the hell are you doing in LA? Why are you here? At the record launch party?” It had been the first artist that Beca had gotten to work with one on one for a chance. She actually produced the fifth track on the new R&B artist’s debut album. It hadn’t been much, but it was the first big project for her.

“My cousin is friends with the new artist and had an extra invite, so of course I couldn’t say no. I didn’t even know this was your company! I thought you were at Residual Heat!” Beca nods, moving closer to hear Chloe over the music and people.

“This is one of their, like, sub companies? They own it. It’s smaller, but it gives me more room to do my own work and more time to work on my own music,” she explains. Smiling, she turns to the bartender to get another drink, slamming back the remnants of her glass. “Anyway, enough work talk. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been fine. You? Miss upcoming superstar?” Chloe giggles.

“Well, long work days, sometimes. My doctor thinks I drink too much, and that’s an issue, I guess, but I’m okay.” Beca shrugs playfully, grabbing her refilled drink. Chloe frowns. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. Come on, Chlo,” she laughs, poking Chloe’s shoulder.

“Shut up, Mitchell. I just care about your liver,” Chloe smirks. “Now, I believe we have a lot of catching up to do.” Beca raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” she chuckles, “yes I believe we do.”

Chloe’s back slams against the car door and she lets out a groan.

“I-I have to- Beca, I have to- ohhh, I have to open the door,” she pants brokenly. Beca just spins her around so she’s facing the car, turning her attention to Chloe’s neck, kissing a trail from her shoulder to her earlobe. Chloe’s hands are shaking as she unlocks the door and scrambles inside. Beca follows, lying in the back seat of the Range Rover.

“Is this a rental?” Beca asks curiously. Chloe barks out a laugh.

“I’m a teacher. I can’t afford this kind of car. My cousin’s paying for the rental. Now, do you wanna talk about my car? Or do you wanna fuck me?” And the words fall from her lips so easily. Such a pretty, innocent face spitting out such  filthy words makes Beca shudder.

“You missed this, didn’t you,” she teases, crawling on top of Chloe. Chloe’s face darkens for a moment.

“I missed you,” she admits softly. And in that moment, Beca realizes just what a mistake she made. Chloe would always be her biggest what if. What if she had tried for something real before she left? What if she hadn’t run away when they had started to get serious, moving halfway across the country in an old broken down car? What if she hadn’t broken Chloe’s heart? What if she hadn’t gone four years without calling the redhead?

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to Chloe’s shoulder. She repeats the phrase, breathes it into Chloe’s lips, into her chest, into her arms.

“P-please,” Chloe whispers after a while. It’s a broken sound, really. She’s been grinding fruitlessly against Beca’s leg for a few minutes now, desperately searching for some kind of friction, some kind of relief. Beca is happy to give that to her.

In one fluid motion, she pulls Chloe’s blue dress up and over her head, tossing it somewhere into the trunk of the car. Time has been good to Chloe; she looks as good, if not better, than the day that Beca saw her in the shower freshman year. For a moment, she forgot how she could ever have been so stupid to have left. Chloe’s whimpering with need and she yanks Beca down, pulls her flush to her own body, and Beca remembers what she’s doing.

Slipping one hand between Chloe’s legs, she reclaims her lips to swallow Chloe’s moan. Before Beca even touches her, she can feel the heat emanating, can tell that the little scrap of lace Chloe calls underwear is drenched. She wiggles it down Chloe’s hips and the older woman gratefully lifts her body to kick them off.

“Beca,” Chloe moans into her mouth as Beca slides an experimental finger in. She quickly slides in a second, pumping steadily as her thumb twitches at Chloe’s clit. Beca can feel her shaking now, and she knows she’s close. Beca moves to kiss at her collarbone and Chloe’s moans are left unfettered, louder now and Beca wouldn’t ever want her to censor herself. Beca moves up her neck, biting at her flesh then soothing it with her tongue. Chloe’s writhing now, and the sounds spilling out of her mouth are unholy. Beca’s fingers are starting to cramp up, but she needs to give this to Chloe. So she moves her fingers faster and presses her thumb hard up against Chloe’s clit.

“Let go, Chloe. Come,” Beca whispers in her ear. And Chloe does, biting down on the tattoo on Beca’s shoulder to muffle her screams. Beca slowly eases her down from her orgasm, Chloe moaning softly as she releases her grip on Beca’s skin. She’s sure she’ll have a nasty bruise later, but she can’t bring herself to care at the moment. Beca waits a full five minutes after Chloe finishes, panting with her eyes closed, before shifting. She can’t move too far, since the backseat of the car doesn’t offer much room.

“I can… I can’t return the favor… Not in these cramped conditions,” Chloe sighs, opening her eyes to smirk at Beca. “So, if you want a turn, take me to a bed.”

Beca has never driven so fast.

She’s grateful no cops stopped her on their way back to her apartment, since Chloe refused to put her dress back on, sitting in the front seat in only her bra and panties, pulling a blanket from the trunk of Beca’s car- she planned to leave hers in the garage and pay for cleaning later- and throwing it haphazardly over her lap. Chloe’s hand was on Beca’s leg the entire drive over, searing heat through Beca’s stupid formal slacks.

They stumbled through the halls together, drunk on their own lust and the several drinks they’d consumed at the release party. As they fell through the open door, Chloe attacked her with her lips, reclaiming her hips with her hands. Beca barely remembers to kick the door shut before she leads Chloe back through the chaotically messy living room into the equally disorderly bedroom. Beca walks backwards until her knees hit the bed and she sits down. Immediately, Chloe settles on top of her, straddling her. Beca smiles through the kisses.

“Just like college, huh?” she mutters against Chloe’s lips. On those nights when they stumbled back from victory parties and hood night parties and birthday parties and “just because” parties just a little too drunk to be walking in a straight line, they’d end up in Chloe’s room, Chloe straddling Beca.

“I always did like experimenting,” Chloe smirks, pulling back to look predatorily at Beca. Her hands slide down Beca’s arms, fingers circling tightly around her wrists and pushing Beca backwards until she tumbles onto the bed and Chloe pushes her hands up above her head. She leans down to whisper in Beca’s ear. “Do you still like experimenting? Did you keep the cuffs I left in your room?”

After some digging in the back of her closet and a little finagling, Chloe has stripped Beca bare and shackled her wrists to either side of the headboard. She had toyed with the idea of tying her ankles, too, but decided she didn’t feel like wasting the time. Beca was practically vibrating with need before Chloe decided to touch her. Granted, it was on her stomach and not where she desperately needed her, but it was something.

“Please, Chlo,” Beca pleads, the words falling from her trembling lips. Chloe smirks at her, standing and swinging her hips as she moves to Beca’s sound system. And Beca knows what Chloe’s doing. She knows Chloe. Because Beca left her for four years, no phone calls, no texts, nothing. So now, Chloe is happy to leave her high and- well, not dry but you get the point- for a while until Chloe is good and ready. She skims through Beca’s phone, easily guessing the password (because Beca hasn’t changed as much as she’d like to think she has) and opening one of her numerous music apps.

“Aw, you made a playlist, Becs,” Chloe coos. Beca, who’d been squeezing her thighs together in hopes of any type of relief, just blushes. In a bout of nostalgia over two years ago, she made a playlist of her ‘lady jams’. But Beca knows the songs on that, and she starts to squirm in earnest. “Is our song on it? Oh my God , it’s the first one. Reminiscent, aren’t we, Becs?” Beca’s practically crying now, because she was. She was reminiscent for this Chloe, the one who pulled her close and marked her PROPERTY OF BEALE. She missed having Chloe rake her nails down Beca’s back, bite into her flesh and claim her. She needed it more than she’d care to admit, and having her so close and yet so far was physically painful for her.

As the first strains of “Titanium” waft out of the speakers, Beca has an instant reaction. And Chloe is practically cackling now, because Beca used to mock her relentlessly in her freshman year. Every time the David Guetta song would play at a party, Chloe would wriggle and feel overwhelmed with the need to dance, or touch someone, or kiss someone. Now, the tables have turned and Beca is vibrating beneath Chloe’s hands, finally touching her again, splayed out on Beca’s abdomen.

“I missed you like this,” she whispers. “I missed hearing you beg. Are you going to beg now, Beca? Hmm?” There’s a teasing lilt to Chloe’s voice, and Beca knows she can’t hang on much longer. Instantly, the words are falling out of her mouth.

“Please, Chloe. Please touch me. I’m so s-sorry I moved and didn’t keep up with you. I-I-I’m so sorry. Please, I need you. I don’t deserve you, but I need you. I n-need you to touch me-oh fuck! ” Beca’s rambling are interrupted as Chloe roughly inserts two fingers into her, circling one thumb up around her clit. And it takes a Herculean amount of effort for Beca to not come just from that- because really, that would be mortifying. After a few quick, relentless pumps, Chloe inserts a third finger and then she presses her thumb flat against Beca’s clit and she comes easily.

It lasts longer than it ever had before. Maybe because it was so long overdue. Maybe it’s because Beca was choking back sobs as Chloe undid her restraints. She’s later noticed that, in the throes of her passion, she had pulled the sheets right off the corner of the mattress. Beca had been pulling at them just for something to keep her grounded, nearly ripping them at the seams. As Chloe eases her down from her orgasm, she hugs Beca protectively, cradling her the way a mother would a child.

“Stay?” Beca asks sleepily after a while. Chloe smiles bemusedly; it had been quite a while since Beca had requested she stay the night, and she would relish the opportunity to hold Beca through the night. Instead of responding, Chloe just pulled her closer.