Chapter Text
Beatrice has mentally braced herself to have the talk with Ava while on their way to her flat—Beatrice’s place is the most logical option, closer and, most importantly, free of any drunk roommate potentially barging in and interrupting them. As they walk out of Lilith’s bedroom, as they grab their stuff in the guest room, as they sneak their way out of the still crowded apartment without anyone noticing, Beatrice tells herself she won’t get a better opportunity to have an open, honest conversation with Ava about, well, them. She’s full on ready to use this fifteen minutes’ walk to ask all the questions that kept circling in her mind ever since Ava told her she might like girls, questions that have multiplied and that she can rightfully ask now that she knows she’s Ava’s bisexual awakening. How did you figure it out? What happened between us that made you realize you were queer? Why didn’t you just tell me? Why the to do list? Do you have feelings for me? Do you love me, just as I love you, entirely and unconditionally and devotedly? Okay, maybe she shouldn’t ask all of those questions.
But, yes. Beatrice’s mind is set. Talk first, have mind-blowing sex later. A clear, reasonable plan that Ava completely shatters the second they close the main door of Lilith’s apartment; she surges forward and crashes her mouth onto Beatrice’s, hard enough Beatrice stumbles until her back hits the opposite wall of the corridor. She huffs loudly against Ava’s lips but doesn’t push her away—she can’t, she can’t, not when Ava’s whimpering against her mouth, not when her hands are gripping so tightly around Beatrice’s waist, possessive and feverish and so damn maddening.
“I want you,” Ava murmurs before pressing her lips against Beatrice’s once more.
It’s a statement, a plea, three words powerful enough to make Beatrice’s knees buckle.
“I want you so fucking much,” Ava continues, her hands now clenching around the collar of Beatrice’s shirt as if to not let them wander anywhere else.
“Not here,” Beatrice breathes out, almost panting, clinging to her last thread of reason before she actually loses her mind and starts undressing Ava right there in the hallway. She kisses Ava still, not strong enough to resist this, and they frantically make out for a few minutes before they manage to step away from each other, both completely out of breath.
“God,” Ava says before chuckling. “You’re a dangerous woman.”
“Come on,” Beatrice replies, extending her hand as she starts walking down the corridor. “Let’s go back to my place.”
“So bossy,” Ava smirks, her hand slipping with ease into Beatrice’s, and she lets herself get dragged along and out of the building.
There’s no one out in the streets at this hour on a Tuesday night, and Ava seems dead set on making the most of it. She clings to Beatrice’s arm, pushes on the tip of her toes every ten seconds to kiss her neck, lick it, bite it, and it makes their walk to Beatrice’s apartment excruciatingly slow and excruciatingly exciting at the same time.
“Ava,” Beatrice eventually groans.
“Hmmm?”
Ava has her whole face buried in the crook of Beatrice’s neck, breathing into it as she had that first, fateful day.
“At this rate we’ll never make it back to my place,” Beatrice rasps.
At this, Ava leans away, stops walking—if the wobbly wander they’ve been doing so far can even be called walking—and stares into Beatrice’s eyes, her own glowing with malice. “Beatrice, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
Beatrice grabs Chanel’s scarf, still carefully tied around Ava’s neck, and pulls Ava into a deep, greedy kiss that leaves them both breathless.
“I am not,” Beatrice eventually says, looking into Ava’s eyes under the dim orange light shining from the lamppost a few meters away, mesmerized by everything she finds in there. “After everything you’ve put me through? I’m not going to take you in a dark alley, Ava Silva. I’m going to take you where I know no one will interrupt us for the rest of the night.”
“Fuck.”
Ava grabs Beatrice’s collar and they’re once again madly kissing. It takes everything in Beatrice to stay true to her word. She meant it. After all the teasing and the frustration, she wants her first time with Ava to happen where they’re free to explore, to talk, to take their time. Beatrice feels dizzy all of a sudden. Her first time with Ava. They’re going to have sex. She’s going to make love to Ava tonight. Or, by the look of it, she’s going to get fucked senseless by Ava tonight. The thought drags a low growl out of her throat, and she pushes Ava away before she collapses right there on the sidewalk.
“One meter away from me,” she orders, voice as firm as she can manage, an accusing finger pointed at Ava. “You’re not allowed to get closer until we get home.”
Ava laughs, a genuine, happy, delighted laugh, and Beatrice melts at the sound.
“Okay,” Ava finally says as she starts walking again, thankfully at a respectable distance from Beatrice. “I’ll keep my distance.”
Beatrice nods, trying to focus on the path ahead, on the three-story houses and their tiny front yards illuminated by the street lights, on the isolated car that sometimes drives past them or crosses the street ahead, on everything but Ava, the epitome of sexiness and temptation.
“Hmmmmm,” Ava hums, and Beatrice can hear the playful note in her voice. “Since you’ve so cruelly forbidden me from touching you… Let’s talk.” There’s a moment of silence, and Beatrice chances a glance at Ava. And, oh, she shouldn’t have. Ava’s staring straight at her, an incredibly teasing smile on her inviting lips, and Beatrice’s suddenly overwhelmed by the need to kiss her again. She doesn’t, though, and braces herself for whatever it is Ava’s about to say.
“Tell me your kinks.”
It’s so unexpected Beatrice almost trips.
“Come on!” Ava laughs. “You know most of mine, it’s only fair that you share yours!”
Beatrice frowns and pinches her lips, but it’s useless; she’s blushing too hard for Ava not to notice.
“I don’t think I have any,” she eventually says with a quiet voice, heat literally radiating from her cheeks and ears.
“That’s not an acceptable answer.”
Ava’s tone is still playful, but there’s a seriousness underlying it that makes Beatrice’s stomach flutter. She’s always had considerate partners, girls who seemed to value her pleasure and with whom she always had pleasant times, but they never asked about her kinks, about what she could have truly wanted, about the fantasies that could have turned the sex from pleasant to unforgettable. And here is Ava. Asking about what she likes, knowing “nothing in particular” is a lie, trying to push past Beatrice’s walls before they’ve even had sex for the first time.
“I—um…”
Beatrice hesitates, a bit afraid for reasons she can’t quite grasp. She loves Ava, she trusts Ava, she knows Ava will never judge and only get excited by whatever Beatrice tells her, and yet. Even if they’re just talking, it’s the first time Beatrice has ever thought about putting her own pleasure before her partner’s, and the idea is disconcerting and intimidating all at once.
A very light, very gentle brush against her fingers pulls her out of her thoughts. Ava’s looking at her, a soft smile on her lips, her arm extended just enough that she could graze Beatrice’s hand. She lets it fall flat along her body, but the sensation lingers against the tip of Beatrice’s fingers.
“Do you know why this experiment has been such a success?” Ava murmurs. Beatrice slowly shakes her head, and Ava’s eyes dart to her feet. “It’s because you were so responsive. Because you also got turned on by whatever we were doing. Because you were so open, and seeing the way you reacted, the effect I had on you…” Ava glances at her, then back at her feet. She’s blushing, Beatrice realizes, and her heart stutters at the thought. “That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced. What I mean is—” She takes a deep breath, looks back at Beatrice, for real this time, a long, intent, intense gaze that steals Beatrice’s breath away. “—you turn me on. You, as a person. Everything we did until now, it was crazy hot, and it’d probably have been exciting with someone else, but you made the whole thing…” Ava sighs and chuckles. Somehow, it’s a bit sad. “Incredible,” she finally whispers. Then, she clears her throat, straightens up and shoots Beatrice a small but sincere smile. “I want to know what turns you on. I want to know what drives you insane. I want to mess you up the way you messed me up. I—I just—God, Bea. I just want to give back at least a tenth of what you gave me. For you. For me. Because when I can feel that you’re turned on I just—I lose my mind a little.”
Ava’s staring ahead now, lips pinched, cheekbones pink, and she looks so vulnerable right now Beatrice can’t help but take her hand against her very own rule.
“I like it when my partner straddles me,” she murmurs, furiously blushing but not averting her eyes from Ava. She wants her to know, what she loves, who she loves.
Ava looks back at her, a slow smile spreading on her face until it shines brighter than a lighthouse in complete darkness.
“So, like, when a girl is riding you?”
Beatrice’s blush has probably reached her toes by now, but she simply nods before adding with a quiet voice, “My fingers. Or the strap if I’m wearing one.”
Ava’s hand slightly tightens around hers, and Beatrice knows it’s unintentional. Ava glances at her and bites her bottom lip; Beatrice wants to run her tongue over it.
“The thought of you with a strap…” Ava releases a sharp breath through the nose and shakes her head. “Okay. What else?”
“Chocking,” Beatrice murmurs, so low it’s an actual wonder Ava can hear her.
“Giving or receiving?” Ava asks, her tone matching Beatrice’s.
Beatrice holds Ava’s hand a little bit tighter. “Giving.” She feels Ava’s shiver through her bones. “Receiving too, probably. I’ve never had it done on me.”
“Would you like to try?”
Beatrice nods, unable to speak. Heat is spreading from her lower stomach to her chest, to her fingertips, to the tip of her ears. She’s not embarrassed, not after seeing Ava’s reaction. No, she’s just simply and impossibly turned on.
“What else?” Ava asks again, and her voice is rough, deep and raspy, and it resonates between Beatrice’s legs.
Beatrice thinks, really thinks, of what she’s always wanted to do, of what she wants to do with Ava.
“I—I’ve never done it before, but—” Ava looks at her with so much earnestness Beatrice’s next words fall easily from her lips. “I want to watch,” she whispers. “As you touch yourself.”
She’s barely finished her sentence that Ava roughly pulls at her hand and tugs her into a wet and burning kiss.
“Sorry,” she whispers when she leans away. “You make it very hard to follow the rules.”
Beatrice’s liquefying on the sidewalk. Never in her life has she been this aroused. Never in her life has someone managed to render her so completely incapacitated with desire. It takes a tremendous effort for her to will her legs to work again; they’re close now, so close, her building at the corner of the next street, and she needs them to get there in the next thirty seconds or else she might die.
She doesn’t say anything, simply drags Ava along until they finally, finally reach her building. The second they make it inside, she shoves Ava against the wall, kisses her, bites her bottom lip. Ava lets out a whimper, and Beatrice steps away as if she’s just received an electric shock. She takes a deep breath, stares at Ava—and Ava’s staring back, eyes on fire, breath ragged, cheeks flushed, her whole body oozing desire—.
“You’re so beautiful,” Beatrice whispers.
She doesn’t know why she has to say it here, in her hallway, in the least romantic place ever and at the least romantic moment, but she can’t fight it. Every single feeling is boiling out, heated up by their kisses, their proximity, how intimate they’ve become in so little time, and she has to tell Ava some of the truth, the tip of the iceberg, or else she’d fail herself.
Ava doesn’t say anything. She gazes at Beatrice, eyes unreadable, before walking towards the elevator and pressing the button. The door immediately opens, and Ava steps inside without a second of hesitation before pushing the fourth floor button. Beatrice takes a second to follow. As soon as she does, Ava reaches for her with a quick hand, grabs the front of her shirt and pulls her towards her. Their mouths crash. It’s messy and desperate, yet, somehow, it’s more emotional than anything they’ve shared so far. By the time the elevator ring chimes and the door opens on the fourth floor, Ava’s managed to unbutton half of Beatrice’s white linen shirt.
They can’t even make it to Beatrice’s apartment door without kissing again. Beatrice drops her keys as she pulls them out of her bag; her hands are shaking, her vision is narrowed by need and adrenaline, every single part of her body is ten times more sensitive than usual. Eventually, she manages to open the door. They stumble inside. Beatrice’s mind is so foggy with desire her instincts don’t even kick in when Ava grabs both her arms and shoves her against the main door, slamming it in the process.
Everything is frantic and chaotic. It’s a miracle Ava’s able to open up the rest of Beatrice’s shirt without ripping her buttons apart, considering how eager she is. They both stumble as they kick their shoes off their feet, never breaking off their kiss. Beatrice’s barely aware of Ava tugging her now open shirt behind her, too busy kissing her and untying Chanel’s scarf from around her neck. As soon as it hits the floor—sorry Chanel—, she lifts Ava’s dress to fully grab her ass with both hands. Ava moans against her mouth, pushes her hard against the door—hands on the now bare skin of Beatrice’s stomach—, and Beatrice groans in response.
They should move to the bed. It’s right there. Five steps away. All made and cozy and inviting. But Beatrice can’t move and apparently neither can Ava. They’re finally, finally alone, finally open, finally ready. They can’t waste one more second, not after those past weeks, not after the to do list. All Beatrice wants is to take Ava and for Ava to take her.
Her fingers curl around Ava’s underwear just as Ava’s unbutton and unzip her pants. As soon as Beatrice starts rolling Ava’s panties down her thighs, Ava shoves her once more against the door—it’s forceful, it’s so, so fucking hot.
“No,” she murmurs against Beatrice’s lips. “Me first.”
Beatrice whimpers—she whimpers—, and Ava takes it exactly as what it is: a clear invitation to go on. She grabs Beatrice’s pants and underwear and drags them to her feet, falling on her knees to do so.
“My god Bea,” Ava whispers, her eyes fixed in between Beatrice’s legs, and Beatrice should feel ashamed, should feel embarrassed, should feel uneasy, but all she can think right now is how wanted Ava makes her feel, staring at her with awe and desire and a rawness Beatrice’s never seen before in her life.
Ava kisses her thigh just above the knee, her hands dragging along her calves, and Beatrice starts shaking against the door. Ava drops another kiss slightly higher on her thigh, then another, slightly higher too, then another, then another. She traces a dotted line along Beatrice’s inner thigh, follows her pubis, licks the line between Beatrice’s faintly visible abs, uncovered by the shirt still hanging loosely around Beatrice’s elbows. Ava stands back up. For a second, Beatrice thinks she’s going to kiss her again. Instead, Ava stares at her straight into the eyes and slides two fingers along Beatrice’s clit. They both gasp. Ava dives down, still looking Beatrice in the eye, and her fingers slide along Beatrice’s entrance, collecting the hot wetness pooling there before dragging it back up to her clit.
“You’re so wet,” Ava breathes out, wonder in her gaze.
Beatrice doesn’t say anything, too stunned, too hypnotized by Ava’s eyes. She stays quiet, even when Ava dives down again, even when she teases her entrance, even when she slowly, so very slowly pushes two fingers in. Both their mouths fall open, and they keep staring at each other as Ava keeps pushing deeper and deeper.
“Fuck,” she says in a shaky breath. “Fuck, you feel so good. Is that—Is this okay?”
Beatrice’s forgotten how to breathe and talk. She nods, and nods again when Ava crooks her fingers, and again when she stays there, applying a cruel and heavenly pressure at the most perfect spot. She wraps her arms around Ava’s neck and brings her close; she needs support, she needs to feel her against her.
“It’s—It’s really good. Fuck, Ava.”
She can feel Ava’s chuckle, the slight tremor of her body, the breath licking her neck.
“I know I’m doing something right when you swear,” Ava murmurs, voice low and raspy and so, so damn sexy, and Beatrice tumbles one step closer to the edge.
“More,” she asks, barely a sound, and Ava provides.
She starts moving her fingers, adding and releasing pressure inside Beatrice, slow but intent, so intent.
“I’ve imagined this about a million times,” Ava confesses in a whisper. “God, Bea, I—”
Her next word dies as her teeth sink into Beatrice’s neck, her fingers speeding up, her body pressing Beatrice’s harder against the door—they’re still there, good Lord, they’re still right there, they haven’t taken one step inside Beatrice’s studio and Ava’s inside her, she’s inside her, she’s inside her—
Beatrice chokes on a moan, and Ava immediately moans back. It’s new, this, Beatrice knowing without a single doubt how much her partner is enjoying herself while giving her pleasure, not caring if she’s taking too long or if her partner’s wrist is at a weird angle or if her partner’s taking care of her just because she feels the need to reciprocate. Here, now, Ava’s pleasure is so blatant it’s fueling hers, and she’s now embarrassingly close to coming, loud and unrestrained and against her very own apartment door.
Ava’s fingers are still crooked inside Beatrice, moving hard and fast as her palm is pressing against Beatrice’s clit.
“Ava, I—”
Beatrice holds Ava even tighter as Ava speeds up, and it takes only five seconds before Beatrice’s orgasm blasts through her whole body, leaving her groaning and shaking and unable to focus on anything as waves and waves of pleasure keep crashing all over her.
When she finally recovers, or at least recovers enough to become once again conscious of her surroundings, she realizes Ava has been fully holding her, one arm wrapped around the small of her back, her knee pushing against the hand she’s still slowly moving inside her, literally pining Beatrice against the door.
God. She wants to tell her, how good it was, how good it still is, how incredible it is, to feel her like this, to know her like this, but Beatrice doesn’t trust her mouth so she presses it against Ava’s instead. It’s the only way she can keep her feelings quiet, the only way she doesn’t say “I’m so desperately in love with you” right this second.
She kisses Ava intensely enough Ava slides her fingers out of her and stumbles backward, and Beatrice keeps pushing her—tiny step after tiny step, her pants and underwear still tied to her feet—until Ava’s legs bump against the bed. Before Ava falls flat on the mattress as Beatrice had beautifully planned, she suddenly turns them around and pushes Beatrice on the bed instead. Beatrice’s back hit the mattress, and her short exhale barely has time to vanish into the air that Ava’s straddling her.
“God,” Beatrice murmurs, immediately sitting up and sliding her hands along Ava’s thighs, lifting her dress in the process.
Ava pumps her eyebrows. “You like that?” she asks with a smug grin, fully knowing the answer.
“I love it.”
Beatrice’s being bold, looking Ava in the eye, her words confessing more than one truth. Ava bites her bottom lip, a sudden spark in her gaze, before she leans down and kisses Beatrice. It’s tender at first, until they both start breathing heavily through the nose, until Ava frames Beatrice’s face with her hands and slides her tongue between Beatrice’s lips, until low groans start to rumble in their throats.
Beatrice’s hand finds its way under Ava’s dress and between her legs. It’s easy, like a second nature, because she knows Ava wants it, she knows Ava wants her. Her fingers trace the soft contours of Ava’s clit through her underwear, brushing over the fabric—wet, so wet—, knowing the lightness of her touch is driving Ava insane.
When she rolls the underwear to the side, Ava moans, breaks the kiss, whispers against her mouth, “Fuck, Bea, yes.”
So Beatrice doesn’t hesitate. She slides one finger in, so easily she adds a second one, to Ava’s apparent greatest delight.
“Fuck this is so good.” Ava breathes out. Her hips immediately start to roll against Beatrice’s palm at a fast pace. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Ava’s desperate, grinding into Beatrice’s hand with frenzy, and she’s so wet it rolls all the way to Beatrice’s wrist, she’s so sexy Beatrice thinks she’ll go blind. She sinks her other hand into Ava’s hair, grasps it and tugs at it, and she knows she’ll remember Ava’s obscene moan for the rest of her life.
“Not—fair—”
Ava’s barely able to talk anymore. She clenches Beatrice’s shoulders with both hands. She rides her hard, she rides her fast, she rides her without any restraint, and Beatrice is so turned on she’s moaning in unison with her.
She’s somewhat aware, in a deep and foggy part of her mind, that her pants and underwear are still hanging at her feet, that her shirt is still held at her elbows, that she still has her bra on, that Ava’s still wearing her dress and underwear. There’s something sinful about doing it while fully clothed. Something Beatrice’s never felt before, something she hopes she’ll get to feel a lot more in the future. They’re not having sex, they’re fucking. It’s primal, rushed, uncontrolled, it’s doing whatever they want however they want, it’s knowing they want the same thing.
When Beatrice releases Ava’s hair to slide her hand along her thigh, Ava grabs it and brings it to her neck. They share a look; Ava’s unbearably beautiful, all wrecked by pleasure that she is, and Beatrice can’t resist it, her, her pleading gaze. She wraps her fingers around Ava’s throat. Ava rides her faster, in a wild and loud fury—moans and groans and cries—, and when Beatrice tightens her fingers around her neck she comes on the spot.
Her hips jerk roughly against Beatrice’s palm, her head falls backward, her nails dig into Beatrice’s shoulders, and she lets out a long, low and bestial moan that makes Beatrice’s brain short-circuit. Soon after, she collapses against Beatrice.
It takes Ava a moment to move again. She’s panting into Beatrice’s neck, still straddling her, still riveted to her fingers. She slightly leans backward, enough for her eyes to meet Beatrice’s.
“That was—” She kisses Beatrice. “—fucking amazing.”
Beatrice chuckles, happy, so, so very happy, and Ava rewards her with another kiss.
“Can you go again?” Ava asks, and want brutally claws into Beatrice’s lower stomach.
“Yes,” she breathes out.
Ava grins, pushes Beatrice flat on her back, kisses her neck, her breasts, her stomach, and she doesn’t waste one more second before diving between Beatrice’s legs.
*
They’re lying on the mattress, quiet and spent and content. Beatrice’s on her side, Ava tucked against her, her back flushed against Beatrice’s stomach and chest. They’re naked. Somewhere in between round two and three, they got rid of their clothes. It’s heavenly, there’s no other word, to feel Ava’s skin like that, to breathe in her scent, to deliberately match her respiration with Ava’s, slow and steady.
When Ava quietly chuckles, Beatrice props herself on one elbow and looks at her with a small smile.
“What?”
“We’re spooning,” Ava says with a giggle.
Beatrice kisses her temple. “We are.”
“That means we checked everything off the to do list.” Ava slightly rolls on her back, enough to be able to stare at Beatrice. She lifts one hand in the air and, each time she quotes an item from the list, she raises one finger. “You grabbed my sort-of tie. You shoved me against the wall. We made out drunk.”
“I was perfectly sober,” Beatrice confesses in a murmur, and Ava smiles.
“I know. So was I.”
Even though Beatrice already knew it, the admission makes her heart flutter.
“We hid in a closet,” Ava continues, now four fingers up in the air. “And now we’re spooning.”
She waves her fully open hand in the air, a bright smile on her gorgeous face, and Beatrice laughs.
“We’re a very efficient team,” she says as she high-fives her.
Ava’s smile widens, if it’s even possible, and she extends her neck a little to drop a kiss on Beatrice’s lips.
“So,” Beatrice says as she slides an absentminded finger along Ava’s arm, “now that we completed the experiment, do you think you’re bi?”
Ava snorts. Her hand settles on Beatrice’s cheek. “I think I want a girlfriend.”
Beatrice’s heart drops into her stomach in the best possible way, but she keeps an impassive face.
“I’m sure plenty of girls would love to make that happen for you.”
Ava hums, her eyes sparkling. “You wouldn’t happen to be one of them, would you?”
“Who knows.”
Beatrice leans forward and kisses Ava with all she has, with all she feels. It’s not sexual, not messy, not long. Yet it’s intense, and as she silently tells Ava how much she wants to be her girlfriend, how much she loves her, she feels like crying.
When Beatrice pulls away, Ava simply stares at her. There’s something unreadable in her eyes, uncertainty mixed with a light Beatrice can’t define.
“Bea…” Ava turns around, props herself on one elbow to mirror Beatrice and to better face her. “I—I know I don’t seem like the most reliable person when it comes to commitment to, well, anything, but… I need you to understand that I’m serious about this. About you. If you’ll have me.”
Ava lowers her gaze. She looks so frail right now, and Beatrice doesn’t understand. How could anyone not have her? Before she can answer, Ava stares at her again.
“I love you.” The words are quiet, a bit trembling, and they shake Beatrice to the core. “I’ve probably loved you for the longest time but was too stupid to realize it. But now… I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. The second we tried that first item on the list, the second we hugged like that, I knew. I love you. This is not a phase. This is not a whim. And I—I hope you’ll give me a chance to prove it to you.”
Beatrice is a thinker. She likes to plan ahead, to envision every possible scenario, to ready herself for both the expected and the unexpected. But this? Ava softly confessing her love after they’ve fucked for three hours straight? Ava looking so unsure of Beatrice’s reaction? This never occurred to Beatrice. This was not part of the plan. This… Hell.
“I love you too,” Beatrice whispers, and she etches Ava’s every single reaction in her memory; the way her eyes widened and shined, the way she held her breath, the slight pink spreading on her cheekbones, the love, oh, the love, written everywhere, spilling everywhere, undeniable and strong and deep. She knows it’s not a whim. She’s always known the love Ava has for her is unconditional. She just never expected it to be romantic.
“So…” Ava breathes out, the tiniest smile on her lips as she raises her eyebrows. “Girlfriends?”
Beatrice laughs. “Girlfriends.”
They seal the deal with a kiss that quickly turns from emotional and innocent to emotional and sexually charged, and Beatrice breaks it off while she still can.
“What changed?” she asks to a slightly out of breath Ava. “Between us? We’ve been close for years, so why now?”
Ava’s blush is sudden, bright and adorable.
“It—It’s—God.” She hides her face behind her hands, before shooting an embarrassed look at Beatrice. “It’s—” She sighs, takes a deep breath, and adds, “It’s Michael.”
Beatrice’s so taken aback she gapes. “What?”
“Remember when I introduced you to him a few weeks ago, just after I met him for the first time?”
Beatrice nods. Oh, she remembers. Ava had been gushing about her new friend for three days, telling Beatrice she’d love him because they were both so serious and responsible, but Beatrice hadn’t expected the ripped blond guy with dreamy blue eyes, always collected and serious, cracking up Ava with deadpan jokes—that weren’t even that good—, and who in a matter of hours seemed to have become one of Ava’s favorite people.
“I remember. What about him?” she asks in a groan.
Ava bites her bottom lip as she stares at Beatrice.
“This,” she breathes out. “You always get really jealous when it comes to him.”
Beatrice takes a short breath through the nose and almost imperceptibly moves away from Ava. She knows she can get jealous. And she hates that she sometimes lets it show.
“Bea, no, it’s okay.” Ava slides a comforting hand on her cheek and Beatrice immediately relaxes when she feels her warmth. “Honestly, I’ve been so jealous of your girlfriends before, I don’t even have a right to be mad at you for this.”
“You were jealous of my girlfriends?”
“Oh yeah. Big time. But I always thought it was normal, you know, to be jealous of your best friend’s girlfriends. It never occurred to me that it could be because I had actual feelings for you.” Ava chuckles. “God I’m stupid.”
“No, no, you’re not,” Beatrice quickly reassures her, butterflies fluttering in her lower stomach. “You’ve never experienced any of this before college. And sexuality can be very confusing.”
Ava smiles. It’s warm and fond.
“So, wait.” Beatrice shakes her head. “Me being jealous of Michael is what made you realize you were attracted to girls?”
“It’s what made me realize I was attracted to you.” Ava wraps her arms around Beatrice and brings her closer. She buries her face into the crook of Beatrice’s neck, and soon they’re snuggling, Beatrice on her back, Ava in her arms. “You were so possessive,” she confesses in a whisper. “Whenever he was around, you always tensed up, got closer to me, touched me, even. I—God—I know it’s bad, but I found it so damn sexy. Remember when he grabbed my wrist as I was leaving the bar? And you immediately stepped in and made him back off?”
Beatrice nods. Admittedly, Michael was just a bit drunk and rougher than he meant to be, and Beatrice had overreacted. Still. She doesn’t regret a thing.
“I touched myself while thinking of you for the first time that night.”
Beatrice holds Ava tighter against her. She definitely doesn’t regret a thing.
“After this, I just—I don’t know. Everything clicked. It was driving me a bit insane, to be honest. Whatever little thing you were doing, I found it incredibly hot. Still do, for the record. JC got so mad at me because for days all I could talk about was you and how sexy you are.”
Beatrice smiles to herself. How beautifully ironic, that JC became Ava’s confident while Beatrice was busy being jealous of him. Even though this jealousy was nothing compared to the one she felt because of Michael. Probably, she suddenly realizes, because Michael had the potential to become a serious boyfriend, while she knew JC would always be a hook-up and nothing more.
“Why the to do list?” she asks just before pressing a tender kiss on the top of Ava’s head.
“I wanted to be sure.” Ava shifts a little so she can look Beatrice in the eye. “Our friendship means the world to me. I didn’t want to fuck it up. Everything is so new to me, I know sometimes I can mistake one feeling for another. I figured the only way I could be absolutely certain of my attraction for you was to, you know, actually do things with you, but I also didn’t want to lead you on. I thought that if we had some sort of contract… Our friendship would be protected, somehow. God, that sounds very stupid now that I say it out loud.”
“It’s not.” Beatrice rests her forehead against Ava’s, happy and touched and feeling like all of this is too perfect to be true. “It’s exactly how I felt. That as long as it was for the list, we would be fine, you and I.”
Ava sighs; she looks content and very pretty. “Turns out that even if it’s not for the list, we’re more than fine.”
Beatrice kisses her. Just because she can.
“I can’t believe you’re my girlfriend,” she murmurs against Ava’s mouth, and she feels Ava’s smile against her lips.
“I can’t believe you’re mine either.”
They kiss again, and again, and again, and it doesn’t take long for heat to spread across Beatrice’s body like a wildfire.
“You said that night after Michael grabbed your wrist and I defended you was the first time you thought of me while touching yourself,” Beatrice says, voice low and quiet, in between two more and more maddening kisses.
“Hmmm,” Ava hums, bites Beatrice’s bottom lip, tugs at it, flicks her tongue over it. “It was.”
“How many times did you touch yourself while thinking of me after this?”
Ava releases a shaky breath against Beatrice’s mouth. Beatrice pushes her under her, slides the flat of her hand on her stomach, around her breasts, along her collarbones.
“I stopped counting,” Ava murmurs.
Beatrice leans forward, licks the tip of her ear, shivers when Ava lets out a deep moan.
“Was it good?” Beatrice whispers before biting her earlobe.
“So good,” Ava breathes out, and she sounds so damn sexy Beatrice’s vision blurs.
It’s only when Ava moans again that Beatrice realizes she’s touching herself.
“Bloody hell,” she mutters, now staring at the hand Ava’s slowly moving between her legs.
“Like what you see?” Ava asks, voice raspy and ragged.
Beatrice swallows and nods. She does. Good Lord, she does.
“Go sit on the chair,” Ava commands.
“Fuck.”
Beatrice obeys. She slowly stands up and sits on her desk chair, only two meters away from the bed, her gaze never leaving Ava, her eyes, her mouth, her breasts rising and falling at each heavy breath, the fingers drawing steady circles on her clit.
“God this is so hot,” Ava croaks, staring at Beatrice with heavy-lidded eyes. “I—I won’t last lon—”
Her last word turns into a moan as she shuts her eyes and arches her back on the bed. Beatrice’s holding the armrests so tightly her knuckles are white.
“Fuck,” Ava whimpers. “Fuck, this feels so good. This feels so fucking good.”
She’s now frantically rubbing her clit, her hips jerking in the air, and Beatrice’s so damn aroused she thinks she could come just like this, without touching herself, without doing anything but watching Ava falling into ecstasy.
“Fuck, Bea, I’m—”
Ava’s moan turns into a sob as she comes, violently and stunningly.
For a while, nothing but Ava’s shaky breaths disturb the silence of the studio. Beatrice stays immobile, hypnotized, her mind a blissful haze, her body a mess. Then, she stands up, closes the distance between her and the bed, crawls on it. Ava gazes at her with blurry eyes that immediately catch on fire when she notices the look on Beatrice’s face.
Beatrice doesn’t even have to ask; Ava immediately wraps her arms around her neck and her legs around her back. Beatrice sinks three fingers into her, and she fucks her as if both their lives depended on it.
*
“Come on Ava, we’re going to be late.”
“I’m almost done!” Ava yells from the closed bathroom where she’s getting ready for their date.
Beatrice sighs, but she doesn’t have it in her to be annoyed at her girlfriend. Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest and looks around the open kitchen and living room Ava shares with Hans. They usually hang out at Beatrice’s place—for obvious intimacy reasons—, and it’s the first time in a while Beatrice finds herself in Ava’s apartment. It’s a bit messy but cozy, with colorful art hung on the walls, a collection of vintage beer cans proudly displayed on a shelf, polaroids of Hans, Ava and their numerous friends on the fridge. Beatrice squints. Is that—
“Oh hell no,” she breathes out as she strides towards the kitchen.
The to do list, still well protected into its plastic sleeve, is stuck right in the middle of the refrigerator door for everyone to see.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Beatrice mutters, hand darting to rip it off the fridge, but she freezes just before her fingers reach the paper.
Ava has dutifully completed the list, grading each remaining item with 10s, 11s and 12s under the HORNINESS LEVEL/10 column, but that’s not all. There’s something new at the bottom of the list. Beatrice reads it, blushes, smiles, lets her hand drop back along her body. God does she love that idiot.
She turns around, shouts, “Ava, it’s time to go!” and laughs when Ava answers again, “I’m almost done!”
Beatrice thinks of the to do list, and she smiles even more. Under the last item of the list, Ava has added one final line. Beatrice’s name, followed by an infinity symbol.