Chapter 1
You're stood in front of the mirror, packing up all of your make up backstage of Worlds, when arms wrap around your waist and lips attach themselves to your neck. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you groan as your head falls back onto her shoulder.
“Babe,” You breathe her name and you know that she heard it over the noise of the crowd and all of the other chatter happening in the tent right now.
“Let's get out of here.” Beca nips your earlobe, and that's when you feel it. She presses her whole body against yours, her hardened dick pressing against your butt.
“But the rest of the Bellas, Becs.” You protest, even though you would love to just disappear with her. “We just won Worlds and did our last performance as Bellas. We can't leave.”
“I'm not talking about leaving.” Her breath is hot on your ear and your resolve is cracking with every word. “I'm talking about finding a quiet place where no one can see us.” Her hands run lower so that they grip at your hips, pulling your more firmly against her. “And then we come back and spend time with our Bellas.”
You try not to moan at the thought, knowing that Beca is coming off of her performance high the way she always does and that this time, it's making her particularly bold because there are still people around. Not that people usually stop her from being affectionate with you, but you're pretty sure that dry humping you is a line she wouldn't usually cross unless she was totally turned on. And you can tell that she is.
“Come on, Chlo,” She nips at your neck and you're sold.
“Ten minutes.” You tell her, turning in her embrace so that she can see how serious you are, as this night means a lot to you and you know she knows it. Not as much as she means to you, but she will still be there in a weeks time when you both head off to LA. The Bellas won't be.
“Keep looking at me like that, and we’ll only need five.” She tries to wink but then cringes. “Forget that. Let's just go.”
“You're so romantic, Becs.” You coo, mock fanning yourself as she drags you out of the tent.
“It's a quickie, Beale, there nothing romantic about it.” She shoots back and you laugh.
You soon find a place that both of you agree is safe enough. It's an emptied tent with chairs and a couple of tables in it that other teams have already vacated. She pulls you over to a table, pushes your pants down to your ankles and sits you on the table.
“Like, should I make myself wet, or are you going to help out with that one?” You laugh at her eagerness, and she looks up at you from where she is releasing her cock.
“Let's be real, if I put my hand between your legs right now,” she starts, moving closer to you. You try not to laugh as ‘Little Becs’ bobs enthusiastically with each step, “I’d find the fucking Amazon.” She mumbles against your lips right before she kisses you and cups your sex. You moan and she grins against your mouth. “Told you so.” Beca pulls your hips to the edge of the table so that she has better access and you wrap your arms and legs around her.
“Just shut up and fuck me, Mitchell.” If you're being honest with yourself, you want this just as much as she does because the performance high affects you in exactly the same way. This one is just tinged with nostalgia and a little sadness.
She lines her dick up with your entrance, the head just about to enter you, when she looks up, making sure that it really is okay and that you really are turned on enough to take her. You blink, smile, and kiss her as you roll your hips forwards, gently encouraging her.
And that's all she needed.
She enters you hard. Pausing briefly so that you can at least process that she's fully inside you, before she takes off at a breakneck pace. You bite her shoulder to keep yourself as quiet as you can because you will never, ever, get used to this feeling. The one where Beca just lets go and takes what she wants from you instead of treating you like you're the most precious thing in the world. Sure, it gets rough between the two of you, but she is always focused entirely on your pleasure, and while you know that she won't leave you hanging, this is different.
So she pounds into you, grunting quietly into your ear as the sounds of slapping bare skin and a squeaky table fills the tent. You hold on for the ride, feeling yourself quivering around her as the coil in the pit of your stomach winds tighter and tighter.
“Fuck,” She breathes. You're not going to last too long, neither is she. But then again, that's not the point of this exercise. “I'm close.”
“Hips, babe,” You pant, and she knows.
She changes the angle of her hips, rolling them slightly but maintaining her speed and rhythm so that she hits the super sensitive bundle of nerves with every thrust.
“Yes, just like that,” Your grip tightens around her.
“I'm gonna cum.” Her hips start stuttering and your orgasm is just within reach. You reach between you and rub at your clit furiously.
“Not inside.” It almost pains you to say, but you don't want to be in that kind of mess when you're celebrating for the last time.
Beca grunts her response and you start cumming. It's not a huge orgasm, it's over by the time she pulls out, but it's enough. It's what you needed. Intense and short.
She cums, pointing her dick to the grass below, and resting her hands on the table either side of you as she calms her breathing.
“Better?” You ask as you run your fingers through her hair and out of her face.
“Much.” She looks up at you and grins.
“You're making it up to me with drunk sex later on.” You kiss her and literally feel her breath hitch the second before you connect your lips. “So don't go drinking too much, or Little Becs won't be getting any attention from me for a long time.” You hop off of the table when she steps back, both of you readjusting your clothes and fixing your hair.
“Oh I plan on getting no sleep tonight.” You pull her into you because no matter how much she denies it, Beca loves cuddling after she's cum. She presses most of her body weight against you and right now, you could care less about any of this stuff, Worlds, finally leaving college, parting with your Bellas. None of it matters.
Because you have Beca.
“You're lucky I love you.” You tut playfully when she straightens herself once more.
“I really am, Beale.” She says seriously and it kind of floors you how much she still means it. “Let's go be with our friends.” She smiles, takes your hand, and leads you back into the tent where your friends all greet you with cheers and knowing glances.
And Beca doesn't leave your side.