A/N: Finally back with the second part. Enjoy! ;)
After that, things steadily progress. The game, the flow of alcohol, and by the time one a.m. rolls around, Jesse, Ashley and Denise have vanished along with three of the Treblemakers, Fat Amy isn't wearing a shirt – neither is Bumper – and not a single one of them would be able to recite the alphabet without fumbling. Lilly wouldn't be able to even attempt it, because she's dead to the world, sprawled along the back of the couch behind Donald like a cat.
"I think I'm going to have to call it a night," Chloe says through a yawn, stretching her arms out above her head. "Alcohol makes me sleepy." As if to prove a point, she rubs at her eyes.
"But this was just getting interesting!" Amy protests, topless, and with slurred words. Chloe flashes her a tired smile.
"Don't let me stop you." She's only played strip spin-the-bottle once and it wasn't really her thing. She'd rather take her clothes off in her own time, all at once. The whole dragging it out thing seems pointless to her. Unless it's for a strip tease. Chloe likes those. She stands and surveys the room. Everyone left looks pretty wiped; Cynthia Rose is doing her damnedest to stay awake, because she still hasn't had her chance with Stacie, but she's fading fast. Stacie is looking pleasantly buzzed sitting next to Jessica and resting her cheek on the blonde's shoulder.
"Why don't you guys just crash here?" She turns around to find Jesse leaning against the wall behind her, a bottle of beer still a third full grasped loosely in his hand. Aubrey bristles so hard her shoulders actually shake and she too stands.
"I don't think so." The captain mutters darkly, folding her arms over her chest. Jesse straightens and rolls his eyes, preparing for the inevitable tirade. It never comes though, because Chloe is there with a steadying hand on Aubrey's upper arm.
"It might be a good idea, Bree." Chloe keeps her voice quiet and calm, like she's talking to an easily spooked horse, and the look Aubrey flashes her is one of immeasurable betrayal. Chloe gives her a playful shove and a pointed tilt of her head. "Do you want to be in charge of wrangling everyone and getting them home tonight? Because I don't." And then, as if on cue, she giggles a hiccup. "I don't know if I could even get myself home right now." And maybe it's the way Chloe smiles when she's tipsy, all pretty and soft, that makes Aubrey sigh and hesitate before dismissing the idea a second time.
"Seriously." Jesse's eyelids droop with fatigue and inebriation, but he's sincere. "You should stay. You guys can even take the beds." Unicycle, Donald and another Treble whose name escapes Chloe for the minute all agree with him, each offering up their own rooms and glaring at Bumper until he does the same. "See? It's cool. We'll crash down here."
"Aww," Chloe coos, shuffling over to where Jesse's standing and pinching his cheek, "that's so nice." She slaps it, lightly, just once. "You're a nice guy, Jesse." He grins at her, somewhat bemused, and she spins back towards her best friend, swaying a little. She catches herself with another giggle as Jesse's hands go out to steady her but stop just shy of touching, which is good because she doesn't want him spilling his drink on her. She hates it when her clothes smell like beer. "You coming now?" She inclines her head towards the stairs that lead to the second level of the Treble house and Aubrey opens her mouth to answer, only to be interrupted by a squeal from Fat Amy.
"I'm going to make sure everyone... else gets to bed okay first." She says and Chloe's seen that look of determination on the blonde's face a million times. So, she throws her a mock-salute and an 'aye aye, captain' before heading through into the adjoining living room. There, she finds the rest of the missing members of both groups, including Beca who had disappeared before their little game could get started. She's lying in an armchair, unceremoniously splayed lengthways across it so that her head is leaning against one armrest and her feet are dangling over the over. The others are dotted in various positions around her, but Beca is the one Chloe approaches, like always. "We," Chloe drawls, drawing Beca's eyebrows towards her hairline as she looks up at the redhead, "have been invited to a sleepover."
"But I didn't bring my pee-jays." The alcohol Beca had consumed allows her to be a little more free with herself than she usually is and so there's an edge of playfulness to her tone, a whine that works the edges of Beca's lips into a sleepy, drunken smile. Chloe sidles up beside the chair, pressing her front against Beca's legs and reaching over to squeeze the brunette's kneecaps.
"You've always got your birthday suit." She winks, giving Beca's legs a shake as steely blue eyes roll and her cheeks turn red. Chloe pushes herself away with a laugh and tells her sisters that they're all spending the night and that the Trebles have been kind enough to give up their beds. Those who had been in this room at the time of Jesse's offer seem utterly nonplussed by this information, solemnly nodding at Chloe's words with heavy-lidded eyes. "Rooms are first come, first served," she chirps, backing away towards the staircase and pausing at the foot of it to yawn. She stretches her arms above her head, reaching for the sky and rising onto her tiptoes. When she drops back onto the balls of her feet, she catches Beca's gaze as it darts up to her face and throws her one last smirk of a smile as she turns away.
She makes it up to the second floor and peeks in through the first door on her right. It looks like a hybrid garbage-clothing bomb hit it and she immediately closes the door and tries the opposite side of the hallway, reaching inside to flick on the light. This one is much better and as she looks around at the décor, she realises that it's probably Donald's room. It's a single and it smells nice, and there isn't crap strewn everywhere, so she decides it's a keeper. She tugs the door closed behind her but only makes it three steps into the room before she hears it open again.
"A room that doesn't smell like boy," Stacie muses, looking around in pleasant surprise and then at Chloe with a wide smile that turns a little devilish at the corners when their eyes meet. "Score." And it's not as though Chloe isn't used to Stacie's general state of being. Which, for anyone who may not know, is what Beca once described as "predatory seductress". It's a title Stacie had gasped and then giggled delightedly at, before she'd proceeded to spend the entire evening displaying to Beca exactly why that title was well deserved. Beca had been beet-red by the end of the night and Cynthia Rose had been green with envy.
And since Chloe is the kind of person that pays what some consider to be an alarming amount of attention to the people in her life, she knows that the expression Stacie had been wearing throughout that night is strikingly similar to the one the buxom brunette is aiming at her right now. The realisation has her almost doing a double-take and Stacie must see that or sense it somehow, because her grin widens. Sharpens.
"I was thinking," she starts again, leaning her weight against the door so that it clicks shut, "just because the party's coming to a close downstairs," and then she's pushing herself forward, closing the distance between them, "that doesn't mean we can't have a little private party of our own." Chloe lets out a high, surprised giggle.
"What?" She gasps, smile widening around the word in a way that, oddly, makes her think of Beca. Stacie lifts a shoulder in a half shrug, reaching out to fiddle with the buttons on Chloe's shirt in a manner that she thinks is supposed to be come across as absent but conveys an acute sense of purpose that makes her shiver.
"Don't sound so surprised," Stacie laughs, looking up at Chloe through her lashes despite her taller frame, "you liked kissing me." She heaves a dramatic sigh. "People think I'm just another dumb, hot chick," and Chloe instantly wants to argue, but Stacie presses a finger to her lips, demanding silence with her eyes. "But using my body and reading people's reactions to how I use it isn't all I'm good at."
"I know that," Chloe insists, unable to help herself and pressing the words into Stacie's finger. She feels hot, all over, and the skin on the back of her neck is standing on end, but she desperately wants to make sure Stacie understands this. "You're so super smart-"
"I know that." Stacie replaces her finger with her thumb and traces the pad along the edge of Chloe's lower lip as she cuts in, her own insistence warm and firm. The touch is instantaneously distracting and Chloe feels her eyelids droop in response. "But I've seen how you look at me during rehearsals." Stacie's voice is a low, sultry murmur. A velvety promise, a silky whisper of affirmation, and it lights up Chloe's insides like a volcano. Sends searing warmth seeping towards all ends of her body and perhaps that is the reason for the heat creeping along her chest, towards her face.
"I don't-" but it's far more likely that it's the embarrassment at having been caught, "I didn't know-"
"What?" Stacie's mouth curves and she arches an eyebrow as Chloe stumbles a single step backwards. "That I was watching you, too?" And she feels incredibly flustered, which is not something she is accustomed to feeling, so she's momentarily thrown when she has no idea how to respond to that.
Because Stacie is yanking the proverbial rug out from under Chloe, the one made up of playful pursuits and heavy threads of smouldering sexuality, and wrapping herself in it. She wears it like some kind of royal cloak, dripping with jewels and fur, and draped elegantly around her shoulders.
"Are you..." Chloe trails off, biting at her lip uncertainly and narrowing her eyes. "Are you being serious?" Chloe has never been shy and she isn't about to start now, but the excitement bubbling within her is incapable of flourishing before she fully understands what's going on here.
"Well, yeah." Stacie shrugs again, teeth flashing between parted lips as she leans in to hook her finger under the waistband of Chloe's pants and tug her forward again. The redhead tumbles forward with another high giggle, hands coming to rest against Stacie's shoulders as she falls against her tall frame. "Who wouldn't be serious about you?" That makes Chloe's stomach flip-flop pleasantly, makes her feel just a bit giddy, because she can't deny the fact that she'd really, really enjoyed their earlier kiss and definitely wouldn't mind doing that again. She can't deny the fact that she likes the way Stacie is looking at her, vibrant green eyes both appraising and hungry, nor can she deny the fact that Stacie's hands feel good against her hips.
"I don't know," she breathes out in a sigh that's unsure against Stacie's lips, even as Chloe's attention falls to them and flicker across their full, luscious length. "What if," Stacie's hands shift, sliding up from hips to waist, "what if things are strange afterwards?" Her thumbs find the hem of Chloe's shirt and slip beneath to turn small circles over her skin. "I don't want things to be weird." She drops her forehead then, resting it against Chloe's, and nudges the tip of her nose with her own.
"Why would they?" Stacie's question is quiet, so quiet that Chloe's sure she can hear the sound of Stacie's hands moving around to cradle the small of her back. The scrape of cotton against flesh and skin against skin, the friction sparking enough of a flame to light the fuse connecting them. Stacie tightens her hold, pulling their bodies flush as she tilts her head. "It's just two," she pauses for a breath, long enough to press a feather-light kiss to Chloe's lips, "super hot ladies," an action she repeats a moment later and this time Chloe's brain catches up with itself and her lips part in surprise. "Having a good time," and when Stacie's barely-there kiss lands for a third time, Chloe's brain jumps ahead. Skips forward without any kind of conscious decision to do so on her part and suddenly she's the one doing the kissing. Taking control and doing away with teasing hesitancy, kissing Stacie bold and solidly.
And for an instant, surprise gets the better of the brunette. She inhales sharply through her nose – Chloe feels it as a cool draft of air against her skin – and then lets out a nasally grunt of surprise that has Chloe smiling into the kiss in the moments before she swipes her tongue, lightning-quick, across the seam of Stacie's mouth. Then there are arms being wrapped around her, no longer simply hands at her back, and the brush of their tongues is punctuated by the touch of Chloe's hands to Stacie's face, pulling her down as Chloe rises onto her toes and they both sink into the kiss. But the fall is hard and heavy, and Stacie's teeth scrape and catch against Chloe's bottom lip before she sucks it into her mouth like she had earlier. Chloe's whine is high and left somewhere at the back of her throat as she slips her hand around and into dark hair to hold Stacie close.
There's not an inch of her unconsumed by desire in that moment, a primal craving that is all at once familiar and new taking over her body with the kind of warning that gets brushed away. Ignored. While it's true that she's never imagined doing this with Stacie before tonight, that she wants it now is equally so, and it burns through her like paper. Starting at the edges, where they touch, and burning inward.
"You are such," Stacie breaks away to say, hands leaving Chloe to unclasp and peel her own shirt away from her body, "a good," flinging it aside as Chloe's lips roll themselves into a stunned, thin line and her eyes drop to the scantily-clad torso just unveiled, "kisser." Then Stacie's darting forward again, obscuring her view and tangling one hand in red tresses while the other rests against the small of her back. And there's a frenzied blur to the motion, so the kiss, this time, is one borne from an impatience that makes Chloe's heart beat at a speed a hummingbird would be jealous of.
She's felt wanted before, of course she has. She feels wanted almost every day of her life, in one way or another. But there's a strange sense of unbridled sincerity in the way Stacie is touching and kissing her, in the way she's been looking at her ever since their first kiss, and it makes Chloe feel truly, genuinely wanted. In a way that's so different from how it usually feels. Briefly, she wonders how much of that is to do with Stacie being a Bella, another woman, her friend, but then her butt bumps the night stand that she abruptly realises Stacie has backed her into and the thought pops, disappearing like a bubble.
She jerks her head back, startled, and looks down and behind her as a small Hot Wheels car rolls off the end to land on it's hood against the carpet. Then she glances back up at Stacie, lips curving into a small smirk.
"Careful," she warns, voice low, "we might break something." Stacie's eyes seem to flash, her thoughtful hum a gravelly rumble as she grabs Chloe by the hips and shoves her back against the stand. And Chloe gasps, because even though it's rough, there's something undeniably loving about the action, the way Stacie holds her firmly against the piece of furniture and stares down at her.
"When I'm done with you," Stacie growls, leaning in as though for a kiss, before turning her head at the last minute so that their cheekbones brush on her way to Chloe's ear, where she murmurs, "there won't be a thing left standing in this room." Then she takes the lobe into her mouth, caressing it with her tongue and then snaring it between her teeth. Chloe whimpers, hands clutching at Stacie's naked waist as she adds, low and promising, "including you."
"God," Chloe exhales, as Stacie leaves a trail of wet kisses along her neck, where she sucks and nips until the skin is bruised and Chloe's fingernails are digging painfully into her side. "Kiss me again," she mutters, head fogged and mind dizzy, and Stacie does as she's told.
She licks into Chloe's mouth, slow and certain, and Chloe matches every stroke with one of her own. They push and press against each other, hitting the night stand a few more times and sending one or two more things to the floor. Chloe's hands wander the planes of Stacie's back, dancing over taut muscles and rigid shoulder blades, until she tires of the bra strap being in the way. She unhooks it with both hands and its strapless state has it instantly falling to the floor. Stacie hums approvingly against her mouth and Chloe's hands return to their trek, eventually skimming around to gently trace the lines of her ribs as Stacie's kisses continue to turn her insides to lava.
The sound of the door opening seems somehow delayed, like she's hearing it via a poorly synced video feed, and she only understands what's happening when Stacie breaks the kiss to look over her shoulder.
"Oh, shit." Beca's voice is not something Chloe is capable of mistaking and her heart stops dead inside her chest at the sound of it. "Shit, dude. Sorry. I didn't know you were in here with someone." Stacie though, she doesn't so much as flinch. Just holds Chloe's head still and close to her chest. "Shit."
"You said that already." Chloe hears the words as a rumble behind the brunette's ribcage. "It's cool. You're fine. Breathe, Beca. Just... don't tell Aubrey." Can practically hear the wink that accompanies the words and just makes out Beca's huff of embarrassed laughter right before the door closes. "Well," Stacie starts up again after a few seconds of silence, "that could have been mildly awkward." She doesn't really expand on that though and Chloe leans back to look up at her.
"Oh." It's pulled out of her as a quiet, somewhat awed whisper, and quite without her permission. It's just that she'd managed to somehow forget Stacie's state of undress in the panic and now is being treated to an unabashed eyeful. And is, regrettably, unable to tear her gaze away.
She has seen breasts before. For god sake, she has a pair of her very own, but this is different. Different from the magazines and the porno movies, different from accidental glances in locker rooms and seeing her own. There's something inherently sexual about the display, something tangible that everything up until now had been lacking. Desire, perhaps. The sheer, unyielding longing to touch someone else's so badly. After all, she had unfettered access to her own and took advantage of that whenever the need struck. But this is something new.
"You know," fingers close around Chloe's wrists and lift her hands from where they'd been holding onto the edge of the table, "you can do more than look." With a wry smile, Stacie guides them up towards her chest, stopping just shy of her breasts and laying them to rest against the top of her ribs. Millimetres away. "I'm actually counting on it."
She's felt a kind of kinship with Stacie ever since first meeting her at auditions. Her raw sexuality and the way she unapologetically conducts herself within it had, unsurprisingly, struck a cord with Chloe. They were cut from similar cloth, one the same colour as freedom of expression, and it has been nice have something, someone, that matches for a change. Still, for all their similarities, there's one thing Chloe thinks they might not share in this instance.
"Was that true, what you said earlier?" Her thumbs skirt the underside of both breasts and when Stacie doesn't answer right away, Chloe looks up to find her peering back with a gently furrowed brow.
"About the kissing?" She flashes Chloe a grin. "You know how good you are, babe. Now you're just-"
"No, no." Chloe cuts her off with a laugh and Stacie idly runs her hands along Chloe's upper arms as she waits. "About you never having 'had a redhead' before." Stacie's mouth forms a perfect circle as she mouths the matching vowel, raising both eyebrows.
"Oh. Yeah. Why?" She reaches for Chloe's hair, toying with the ends. "Is it that hard to believe I haven't covered all the shades yet?" She tucks a few strands behind Chloe's ear, who takes the opportunity to brush her thumbs over the swell of Stacie's breasts.
"Just curious," Chloe comments, fingers tracing feminine curves as the corner of Stacie's mouth lifts alongside her gasp. "You know, I've never been with another girl before." A numberless amount of thoughts flicker to life as she says it, ones of girls she went to high school with, ones she met at Barden. Thoughts of Aubrey, thoughts of Beca. She blinks them away and shifts her hands up to completely cover soft mounds of flesh and feels a rush of excitement at the way Stacie leans into the touch.
"Lucky me," she purrs, letting go of Chloe's hair and dropping her hands to the buttons of the redhead's shirt. "I get to teach you everything I know." And slowly, she starts to undo them.
It takes longer than it should, Chloe's fingers pinch and squeeze, distracting Stacie's ministrations until she has to bat her hands away with a glare that Chloe isn't convinced is intended to be anything other than arousing and a slight pout because "unwrapping is one of my favourite parts." After that, Chloe keeps her hands at Stacie's waist until slender fingers are creeping below the collar of her shirt, pushing it back from her shoulders and down her arms. She pulls it the rest of the way off, throwing it onto the purple beanbag chair sitting in the corner of the room and then she tips her head back as Stacie ducks hers to find Chloe's neck with her lips. She threads her fingers through dark hair, sweeping it back with a sigh as kiss after kiss is peppered down towards her collarbone.
"Have you slept with a lot of girls?" It pops into her head and out of her mouth the way most queries do for Chloe Beale, without much restraint, and she can feel the smile being pressed into her skin.
"I didn't sleep with any of them," is mumbled against her throat and Chloe slaps at Stacie's arm, a warning "you know what I mean" slipping from between her lips as the straps of Chloe's bra are slid down over her shoulders. "A handful," she says, and then, as if to demonstrate, she reaches around with one hand and deftly unclasps the bra. "It's always more difficult to find girls who are willing to have some fun." Chloe watches bright green eyes follow the material as it's pulled away, watches them flit back to Chloe's body and dance across her chest. They widen a little, pleased, like Stacie's just been handed back a paper bearing the high grade she expected but is still happy to see.
"With you?" Chloe scoffs, a loud bark of laughter that creases her eyes at their corners and has the added effect of pulling Stacie's attention back to her face. "I can't imagine anyone saying no to you."
"You'd be surprised." And Stacie seems almost touched by the sentiment, her face a mask of sharp and striking features turned soft. "Although," but then she's smirking again, hands coming to lie on either side of Chloe's neck, where she pushes them up, "it's usually some variation of," along her jaw line and into her hair where they twist and tug, and she turns her voice into a ragged, breathy echo of itself as she gasps out, "no more, no more, I can't take it!" And though it all serves to stir up images of an x-rated quality in Chloe's mind, she is still grounded enough to remember that sometimes the best way to fight fire is with fire.
"Oh, then I should probably warn you," that sometimes, a raging inferno is the best kind of medicine, "I don't submit easily." The smile that overtakes Stacie's expression at that lights up the whole of her face and there's a three second span where they're simply standing, grinning at one another before Stacie uses her hold on the back of Chloe's skull to draw her forward into a kiss.
The press of their bare upper bodies flings a sense of impassioned desperation into the whirlwind of desire churning between them and the kiss turns impatient almost as soon as it begins. There's a brief uncoordinated clacking of teeth and then they somehow find a rhythm amid the chaos, hot kisses burning Chloe from the outside in as hands grope blindly and arousal twists her gut. Stacie's skin is soft beneath her hands, softer than she's used to. There's no rough stubble, no clumsily grabbing paws, and every muscle she finds is lithe and toned, instead of big and burly. It's all so different, in a way she finds intoxicating, and with every touch Chloe finds herself craving more.
She's pushing the button that holds together the tiny pair of denim shorts Stacie's wearing through its hole before she really notices what she's doing and when she does she pauses for a fraction of a second, but it's long enough for Stacie to feel and she pulls away from Chloe's lips.
"Hey, if you don't want to-" Chloe's blood boils right over the sound of Stacie's reassurances, red curls bouncing with a vehement shake of her head.
"I do," she bursts, surprising Stacie and herself alike with the strength of her conviction, but further proving her seriousness by pulling at the tab of the shorts' zipper. "I really do." The stark truth of that is enough to reassure Stacie and she steps back from Chloe, "I was just," to push the shorts down over her hips. "... processing." Admittedly, quite a lot of Stacie's legs had already been on display before any of her clothes came off, but Chloe's mouth dries up regardless of that now. She finds herself wondering what she's been doing with her time, wasting it away by not paying attention to Stacie and, well, women in general. There are all manner of lines and curves present now that the male form lacks, and she finds every one of them pleasing to the eye. Then again, she can't imagine there are many people who would find Stacie Conrad in a pair of lacy red panties and nothing else anything other than pleasing.
"See something you like, Red?" Chloe responds to the question with an absent nod, worrying the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth as she lets her eyes unabashedly roam over every centimetre of long legs as they kick discarded denim to the side. "Well then, why don't you shimmy out of those pants and come get it?"
It's a suggestion that is readily adhered to.
In a flurry of motion, Chloe's unfastening her jeans and shoving them off, nearly tripping over her feet in her haste. They come together again, tumbling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and a mess of kisses, and to a backing track of happy laughter that fills the shrinking empty space between them. And Chloe's never had a difficult time with sex, but this is a kind of easy she hadn't anticipated. Stacie is flowing and free, a veritable spirit of sexual carelessness. Her hands move without hesitation, stroking lines of liquid heat wherever they land, and when she presses a hand to Chloe's shoulder, urging her to lie on her back, there isn't so much as a moment's pause before Stacie straddles her waist and descends to take puckered flesh into her mouth.
Chloe is all for being vocal in the bedroom. Actually, she sort of gets off on it. Most of the guys she's been with tended to labour under the illusion that the woman are responsible for making all those delightful sounds of encouragement. Of course, that wasn't to say all were like that and she'd encountered a few who she had come away from feeling fairly certain that they'd enjoyed the sound of their own voice even more than they had hers. Which was fine, but for those who were always a little more reserved or unwilling, Chloe liked to see how quickly she could break them. It became kind of a game and so she's never really felt any need to be quiet during, unless she was in a somewhat public place and really that's only happened a handful of times. Now though, she's fully aware of the houseful of people – of her fellow Bellas – that she runs the very real risk of disturbing with any noise she makes.
But Stacie strikes Chloe as the type of person who, like herself, gains an almost sexual gratification from bending people until they splinter and let all manner of sighs and screams loose. Chloe thinks about this as Stacie's tongue brushes firmly over the peak of her breast, pulling a gasp from her before taking the nipple between her teeth and working it until the gasp turns into a moan. She fists her hands in dark hair as Stacie switches to the other side, holding her in place as teeth clamp down a bit too harshly and spikes of pained pleasure shoot along her spine to make it arch. The sound that leaves her then is a grunt, crude and wanton, and it makes Stacie pull back just enough to look down at her, the sharp edges of her smile sly.
"You like that?" she asks and Chloe gives her reply as a wordless nod, licking at her dry lips as she stares up at Stacie's face. Into blown pupils boarded by thin circles of striking emerald and framed by thick waves of dark hair. The way she's looking at Chloe – teeth snaring the middle of her lower lip, hair a little wild – is making the redhead's insides writhe. "So hot." She's in the middle of wondering whether Stacie can read minds when her dark head dips again and she covers Chloe's mouth with her own.
She kisses her back with feverish fervour, arcing up into into Stacie's body as the hand that's drifted to her chest kneads and plucks. A whimper escapes as Stacie's mouth travels down along the line of her jaw and over her neck, every nip and subsequent swipe of her tongue sending tendrils of fire crawling through her veins to pool between her thighs. She's going to be covered in hickeys, from her neck to the top of her breast and from her ribs to the hollow of her hip; Stacie leaves her marks as Chloe's eyes screw shut and her breathing turns shallow.
Bites transform into kisses as Stacie slinks backwards, circling her naval and spreading out on either side, making the muscles in her stomach twitch and jump. The fingers at her sides trail and tickle, their movements as idle as their owner's mouth is purposeful, and when they hook under the elastic of Chloe's underwear – black and pink cotton, though nothing fancy, she hadn't been expecting the night to end with her naked inside the Trebles' house – baby-blues pop open again and everything stills.
She finds Stacie staring back at her along the length of her body, chin resting atop Chloe's thigh as she flashes the redhead an innocent smile that is, Chloe knows, nothing of the sort. She snaps the elastic, making Chloe jerk in surprise, and they both laugh as Stacie gives the material a pull that's firm enough to get her point across. A strange but ultimately familiar heat slinks through Chloe as she lifts her hips and lets the other girl remove the final stitch covering her. Cold and burning, fast-moving despite how it seems to feel thick and cloying. It seems to drag itself through her, lining her insides and making every inch of her exterior hyper-sensitive.
Stacie stands to rid herself of the very last barrier between them before kneeling back on the bed and surveying her soon to be newest conquest. She does this with the confident, almost languid gaze of someone safe in the knowledge that the object of their attention isn't going anywhere. The simple fact of her being entirely naked, looking the way she does and conducting herself the way she does, is enough to keep a person pinned in place until she says or desires otherwise. All of which, Chloe knows, is quite true, but that's also the role that Chloe herself is used to playing and so it's strange to be on the other side of it.
Not unpleasant, merely different.
"I," Stacie begins, curling her fingers around Chloe's heel and lifting her leg a short ways off of the mattress. "Could just," she drops a kiss to her ankle, moving steadily higher, "eat," along her calf and against the inside of Chloe's knee. "You." She lets go then and Chloe parts her legs to make room for Stacie to stretch out between them, breath catching at the back of her throat as lips descend upon her inner thigh. "Up." Teeth flash across sensitive flesh and she feels her hips jerk, thigh muscles flexing. And she's about to comment on the amount of bruises she'll be wearing tomorrow when Stacie's mouth meets her centre and every single thing inside and outside of her head becomes startlingly empty. Void of almost all things.
For an instant, there's nothing but blossoming heat and a silence so quiet it's suffocating. She can't breathe, can't move, can't release the sounds building within her. Her fingers twitch where they're lying against the comforter, then ball into fists a second later when Stacie sends her tongue sweeping across slick flesh. It breaks the hush around them and Chloe releases a breathless moan of approval, back arching again, head tipping back into the pillow beneath it. Stacie repeats the action, licking slow and deep, again and again, and she winds her arm around Chloe's bent leg to anchor herself as the redhead's hips begin to rock. Her rhythm uneven and stuttering, trying and failing to match Stacie's torturous pace.
Chloe's breaths are shallow and quick, mimicking the beating of her heart, and her chest heaves with each of them. When Stacie's tongue flicks across that tight bundle of nerves Chloe knows so well, her breath hitches with a muttered curse and cold air sweeps over her as Stacie pulls back to chuckle.
"I think that's the first time I've heard you swear." There's wry amusement dancing in green eyes when Chloe meets them and one long finger traces figure eights at the juncture where hip meets thigh, making her shiver. "I like it." Chloe tries and fails to contain the mewl of disappointment when Stacie moves, retracting her arm. "It's sexy." But Stacie's only readjusting their position, shifting to straddle Chloe's leg and hover over her, one arm crooked and resting beside red hair to hold her up. "You know what I like about girls?" Stacie's voice is husky and low, and Chloe opens her mouth to hazard a guess but the leg between hers moves without warning. Higher, until Stacie's knee is nestled snugly at the apex of the redhead's thighs. It's a calculated move and Chloe's in no position to deny the expected and automatic gasp that it tears from between her parted lips. "How they taste," Stacie whispers and the words punch a hole through Chloe's middle, send everything skittering sideways. She feels things collapse to fill the space when Stacie kisses her again, tastes herself on the other girl's mouth and lets the last measure of control she's been holding onto slip away.
With a tight roll of her hips, she rocks herself against the brunette's leg, bright eyes rolling up behind their lids as the friction she's seeking is awarded to her. She swallows the groan Stacie releases at the contact and cranes her neck to kiss her deeper, grinding down with an unrestrained moan that seems to reverberate between them. Stacie's hand dances down along her side and over her hip, pulling her stomach up and over itself as the kiss is broken in the same moment that Stacie draws her knee back so that her hand can continue its journey. It lands without hesitation and she curls her fingers through slick heat, nose brushing Chloe's cheek as her breath tickles the shell of her ear.
"How they sound." She slips inside Chloe without any further warning and right on cue, Chloe cries out. High and loud, half broken in the middle, and her hands grapple for purchase at Stacie's shoulders as slim fingers slowly fill her. Inch by burning inch, searing every last wisp of air from her lungs. "How they feel."
"Stace," Chloe pants the name as she feels the fingers inside of her begin a deliberately slow rhythm, curling just so as they pull out and making Chloe want to crawl out of her skin. "Please don't stop." She can't help but register how different it feels, compared to being with a guy or even just her touching herself. There is, simultaneously, a greater measure of control as well as a new kind of loss of it.
Stacie knows exactly how to touch her, tease her, like they've done this a hundred times before. She pulls out at a steady pace before easing back in so slowly, Chloe's shoulders lift off of the mattress every single time. It's almost too much, but not enough, and when Stacie kisses her again, long and languid, like they have all the time in the world, desperation swells until it forces her to tilt her head away, just enough to break the kiss but leave their foreheads touching. Stacie's hand never stops moving, not for a second, and the moment Chloe opens her mouth to speak, the redhead feels the warmth of the other girl's smirk as it forms. Right before she abruptly changes her pace.
"Fuck," Chloe bites out, eyes creasing at their corners as she screws them shut and sinks the tips of her fingers into the backs of Stacie's shoulders. She hears Stacie chuckle and feels wetness graze the top of her thigh. Shifting her leg with barely a thought, white-hot arousal sinks through her like a stone as Stacie sighs a moan and lazily grinds down against taut muscle. Chloe's gut tightens, "Harder," and Stacie moans again, murmuring Chloe's name, pleased, as she acquiesces. Chloe bucks into her hand, dragging blunt nails over Stacie's back before leaving her hands to lie against her waist, to feel the way she moves against her.
It builds inside of her, a slow rush towards climax that makes her body tingle and twitch, then jerk violently when Stacie brushes over that tight little bundle of nerves with her thumb. Her every breath is sharp now, struggling as all of her senses are overloaded at once and her mind fights to focus on what she's feeling between her legs, as well as the way Stacie's rocking down against her.
"You know what else I like?" Stacie's breath is ragged now too, the pattern of her speech broken in a way Chloe's never heard before, and she doesn't answer because she doesn't know how. With curling fingers and pressing thumbs, she feels like she's being touched everywhere and the blood rushing in her ears is overwhelming. Stacie's words ghost across her face and Chloe wants to open her eyes to look at her, but she can't. "How they look," Stacie pauses, gasping for breath as Chloe bites at her own lip hard enough to draw blood, "when I make them come."
Chloe's hips rock right out of rhythm, jerking against the hand that stills with two fingers buried deep inside of her, curling and circling as a thumb flickers somewhat sloppily against her. Then she's crying out, nonsense or a name, she doesn't know, but the need to do so is desperate and undeniable, and as her orgasm crashes down over her like a wave, she gives into it.
She's dimly aware of Stacie's roughly muttered curses and the lewd lines of wetness painting her thigh, the slight tremble of her body as she climaxes against Chloe. They hang there, suspended in the moment and wrapped in euphoria, until Chloe's tightly wound form sags bonelessly into the mattress. Stacie follows suit a few seconds later, only managing to roll halfway off before dropping, one leg hiked over Chloe's hip and an arm draped across her waist. She nestles her face into the crook of Chloe's shoulder, pressing a smiling kiss to the spot.
"Well, that was awesome." Chloe hears it through the afterglow haze and giggles, drunkenly.
"Totes," she agrees, resting her hand on Stacie's arm and giggling again when Stacie turns her hand over to lace their fingers together. "We should do it again some time."
"What are you doing five minutes from now?" And Stacie's laughter is warm against her neck.
It's shortly after five-thirty when her bladder wakes her. She opens bleary eyes and peers into the tangle of dark hair that greets her for a moment before she remembers. Pressed tight to Stacie's back, legs intertwined and with her arm locked around the brunette's middle, Chloe's honestly loath to move. All attempts at feigning sleep until her mind tricks itself are unsuccessful however and all too soon, she resigns herself to the fact that she needs to use the bathroom.
Quietly, she disentangles herself from her bedmate, wrinkling her nose up fondly at the whine of discontentment that slips through Stacie's slumber as she turns over, expression sleepily disgruntled. Stark naked, Chloe stands in the middle of the room and scans the floor for her clothes. She slip back into her underwear and finds her shirt, haphazardly buttoning it up over her naked torso before checking her hair in the mirror. She will readily admit that she looks like she was up all night having sex because that's exactly what she was doing, but she tries to give some sense of semblance to her mess of curls before slipping quietly out of the bedroom.
She's not expecting to run into anyone in the hallway. After all, it's still early and none of the Bellas need to be up to get ready for classes for at least another hour. And she most definitely isn't expecting to run into Beca, but there she is. Right as Chloe turns around, exiting a room on the opposite side of the hallway.
Midnight-blue eyes widen to an almost comical size as they spot Chloe, flickering over her half-dressed frame, and Chloe can practically see the cogs working in Beca's brain. Piecing everything together with a mixture of shock and something else Chloe can't quite pinpoint.
"You..." Beca tries to speak but eventually tapers off, the words either disappearing or refusing to leave. Chloe bites her lip to stop herself from laughing and hikes an eyebrow.
"Did you want to use the bathroom?" Beca blinks at her for a long moment before answering.
"Uh," she shakes her head, "you can. First, I mean. You're um," Beca gestures at her with a hand before pulling her arms in and crossing them over her chest to keep them still, "probably cold. Or... something," she finishes lamely, rolling her eyes at herself and looking away. Chloe slips past her and into the bathroom with a wry smile, then spends the next minute or so inspecting the damage Stacie has done to her neck. And chest. And thighs.
She laughs to herself.
That's the first time it happens.