Chapter Text
"Do I really have to come, mom?"
Ava can tell she is very close to grating on Jillian's hard-earned patience, but in her defense, this party is guaranteed to be a total snooze fest.
That is, if it can even be called a party. Bunch of rich people in the same stuffy room together drinking tea and eating biscuits, whose best gossiping material is King Charles' death day, could hardly be called anything that isn't-- "so boring! I don't understand why I have to go. It's not like I was ever the face of ARQ-TECH."
Jillian places her unfinished earring down with a huff. Ava winces, wondering if she went too far this time.
"Ava," No darling? Sweetheart? Oh Ava hit a nerve. "As it appears you weren't listening to me the first time, I will gladly repeat myself. The invitation was specifically for you."
Me? "But why? I work for a non-profit, mom. Those people hate that type of shit."
"Language." Ava rolls her eyes, choosing to pout instead. "I might be the head of ARQ-TECH, but I know as much as you about the people hosting this party. Perhaps the sponsor wishes to branch out? Your organization is a worthy place to invest in, darling, I would know that."
The pout melts into a shy smile, Ava's body wiggling in glee. "Thanks, mom. It means a lot coming from you."
Ava means that with her whole heart.
The non-profit she co-finds with her best friend, Camila, would have never been able to kick off without that extremely hefty, extremely generous amount of donations Jillian graciously gave them.
Cat's Cradle started off as a homeless shelter, but with the steady support of Jillian and Ava's and Camila's brilliant minds combined, it has turned into something so much bigger.
"Ugh, fine." Ava sighs, pulling herself out of bed with great reluctance. "I'll go. May I know the dress code?"
Jillian's smile grows impossibly bright at this, turning to rummage in the drawer of her makeup table. Ava doesn't have to wait long before she sees Jillian fishes out a surprisingly non-descriptive envelope. She expected at least some glamor, knowing the like of the people throwing this party to begin with, but it's literally just an alabaster white envelope sealed shut with a red crest.
Ava takes the letter from Jillian, plucking a pocket knife from the same drawer and slices the lid open.
“Salvia Divinorum?” Ava’s one eyebrow raises, “Is this a subsidiary I wasn’t aware about?”
Jillian shakes her head, hands sitting neatly in the pockets of her slacks, “They existed way before I founded ARQ-TECH. Just a coincidence, darling.”
Ava hums, not giving that too much thought. “They’re inviting you and Michael too. But didn’t you say–”
“Yes, I sadly will not be able to attend as I will be flying to Japan tomorrow.” Jillian chuckles at the pout Ava doesn’t hesitate to put on. “Don’t sulk. Take your brother. I reckon you’ll have a brilliant time.”
“That is if paparazzis can stop taking pictures of us together and call us #RelationshipGoals.” Ava mimes throwing up, earning another amused laughter from her foster mom. “What do you think about me going blonde? That way I’ll look more like you and Michael, and paparazzis will stop singing Sweet Home Alabama in my presence.”
“Oh honey, if you really think making yourself look more like Michael and I would help prevent garbage journalism from claiming we’re all romantically involved in one fucked up way or another, then it proves you’ve been away in Europe for far too long.”
Ava groans, flopping dramatically down Jillian’s bed. “How could I forget? I still can’t believe I was wrong about that lesbian couple on TikTok. Sure they looked alike but my God, I didn’t think they were actually related.”
“Made even more traumatic when you know they’ve been dating for years before that discovery.”
Mother and daughter share a synchronized full-body shiver.
“Promise me if you ever find out anything about a hookup of mine, never tell me.”
“I’ll only tell you if STIs are involved, I promise.” Jillian smiles jovially as she sits down on her bed, gently pulling Ava’s head onto her lap. Her eyes automatically close shut at fingers carding through her hair, quickly lulling her into an almost nap. “It’s a dress-up party. I’m assuming you already have ideas?”
A wicked smile crawls up Ava’s lips. “You bet I do.”
-
“Patrick Bateman? Oh, you slut!”
Jovially swinging her bloody axe like a tennis racket, Ava lets out a loud cackle as she runs up to wrap Camila in a tight hug.
Going further to lift the petite girl off the ground, Ava’s bloody lips split open in a bright grin at Camila’s delightful giggles pouring into her ears.
“I can say the same for you!” Ava exclaims, putting Camila down so she can have a closer look at her costume. Her very, very, colorful costume. “The hell are you supposed to be?”
Camila scoffs, offended at being the target of Ava’s uncultured eyes, “I’m Harley Quinn, duh!”
Ava blinks. “Sure…”
“Hello Camila. Thanks for leaving me back there to tip the valet by myself, sis.”
Ava rolls her eyes, turning around. Her best friend and business partner drapes herself over Ava’s back, thankfully tall enough that Ava doesn’t have to shoulder all her weight.
“Hi Michael!” Camila waves, earning a returning smile. “Are you a priest?”
“I am, yes.” Michael nods, coming to stand beside Ava and Camila. Just like his mom, Michael almost always has his hands in his pockets. “Ava thinks I’m boring.”
Ava rolls her eyes, keeping the smile on her face, “That’s because you are. Like, hello, who hears Halloween and automatically decides, ‘Oh yes, I’ll be a priest. Just add a dollop of blood and surely no one will be able to tell the difference between this and my Church Sunday's attire.”
“Not everyone is as competitive as you, sis.” Michael rolls his eyes too, beckoning them to follow him in. “And that’s rich coming from you, as if there isn’t going to be at least 3 more Patrick Batemans in there.”
“But none will be as hot as me.” Ava waggles her eyebrows, earning a chuckle from Camila and a groan from Michael. “Any scoop on who is attending? I need to get laid, I’m so serious.”
Michael isn’t even fazed, Ava assumes he has learned to block his hearing on command every time her and Camila share the same vicinity.
“You’re better off looking at the valets instead of these people, Ava, you know that.” Camila scolds, at which Ava can’t help but cower.
“Is it that bad in there? Not one single decent soul?”
“Depends on who you would consider decent, I suppose.” Camila hums, eyes distant. “Oh, I saw Lilith’s Instagram story. Maybe she’s coming too.”
At that, Ava has to groan. “Brion? I bet you she’s gonna be dressed like an uptight librarian.”
“I don’t know, I would be into that.” They share a giggle, one that earns them a stink eye from Michael.
“Lighten up, Mikey. Just because you’re lucky enough to have a girlfriend waiting for you at home, doesn’t mean we all are.”
“Not that you’ve ever had a slut era when you were single to begin with.” Camila chimes in, true to form proving why she is Ava’s ride or die.
“This conversation always makes me deeply uncomfortable, I hope you know that.” Michael grumbles, stepping up to show the bouncer his ticket.
“Why do you think I keep bringing it up around you?” Ava asks cheekily, fishing out hers and Camila’s invitations too.
Awaiting the bouncer to vet through all necessary documents, Ava takes the moment to truly take in the view for the very first time.
All in all, it’s a typical 17th century castle. Coming from Ava, who spends the majority of her time in Europe where there is an abundance of similarly structured architecture, the location seems perfectly suitable for a Halloween dress-up party.
At the front is its entrance, where their little group of two had dutifully stepped out of and handed over their four-seat silver Maserati to the uniformed valets.
Camila’s idea about valets sounds not half bad. Ava had exchanged a pretty heated look with the valet with blue hair and even bluer eyes. They look like they know how to make her feel good.
From there, it’s a short walk across a plush green courtyard to the double doors of the castle, where bouncers and one singular receptionist stood with a clipboard, awaiting to welcome their guests.
The verification process takes no less than a minute, a usual occurrence for Ava after having made her name and her face known in several journalistic publications.
Heading inside together with Michael and Camila, Ava feels a sudden shiver running down her spine. She mumbles a silent thank you to God, aka Jillian Salvius, for having made her choose the tuxedo with warmer fabric.
Ava thinks she looks good.
That’s not quite right. Ava knows she looks good. Enough to rightfully earn the wandering eyes immediately landing on her the minute they step past the entrance door and stroll leisurely further into the castle.
On Ava’s feet is a pair of dark black leather boots, strategically elevated with insoles to give her a slight height advantage. She hates seeing herself look so short next to Michael whenever they are unfortunate enough to be caught in an amateurish paparazzi’s lens.
Per her costume, Ava’s outer layer consists of a singular, almost transparent, silver raincoat. The coat is long enough to almost reach her ankles, a lesson she learned a long time ago lest she have another tragic accident where her face makes close acquaintance with the marble floors.
Underneath the coat is a frankly non-descriptive dark blue tuxedo suit. While not standing out in terms of color, the jacket and the slacks make themselves heard perfectly clear with the way they hug Ava’s best assets tightly, complimenting her well-proportioned figure. It also doesn’t hurt that her gray undershirt only has three buttons done, leaving most of her chest region bare, consequently showing off her collarbones, her deep cleavage, and her generous bust encased in a lacy black bra slightly peeking out.
The smirk on Ava’s lips persists as she feels the burning gazes on her skin, Camila chuckling amusedly at her exaggerated struts. Michael gives a typical eye roll, head swiveling as if looking for something.
They’ve just arrived at the centerpiece of the ballroom, where the invitation specified the main party to be held, and already Ava could see elites and celebrities alike are taking up the opportunity to mingle or conspire to take over the world.
If it was up to Ava alone, the second choice sounds infinitely more appealing.
“I have to go make my rounds. Mother specifically said to send Mr. Duretti her greetings.” Michael lets out a sigh at Ava’s half joking wince, “Yes I know. I want to get it over with now, rather than leaving it for later when he’s drunk off his arse.”
“Fair point.” Ava nods, face twitching in disgust at the reminder. “Camila, you want to go grab some punch and people watch with me?”
Shaking her head morosefully, Camila also bids Ava adieu “I said I’d meet up with a couple people.”
“What people?” Ava frowns in confusion. “Shouldn’t I also meet them? Am I not your partner?”
Camila visibly fumbles, which only befuddles Ava even more.
Michael, suddenly with a cheeky smile on his face, leans down to fake whisper in her ear “I believe that is code for Camila wanting to meet up with Lilith in private.”
Ava’s “Ohhh” of understanding almost gets overpowered by Camila’s indignant whine and Michael’s amused chuckle as he gives them one final salute before taking off.
Crossing her arms over her chest in a jokingly mad gesture, Ava quirks an eyebrow at her clearly blushing friend and partner, “You could have just told me that, you know? I would never slut shame you.”
“It’s not that, oh my God,” Camila groans. Before Ava can badger her even more for her choices, in both wording and sexual partners, she is already stepping back into the wave of people dressed in various Halloween costumes. “I’ll tell you about it later. Stay safe! I’ll have my phone turned on if you need me to come get you!”
Ava shouts back, waving her best friend goodbye, “I can take care of myself! But samesies!” before watching her be swallowed into the crowd.
Now alone, Ava deflates, already feeling over with the party. The ballroom itself bustles with noises, walls pulsating and thrumming with the beats of generic pop music. If Ava closes her eyes, she can almost picture the house is alive with its own heartbeats too.
Which is a ridiculous thought, right?
“May I offer you a drink, Miss Silva?”
The strange voice comes from a clearly attentive waiter, a friendly smile on his lips as he offers Ava a tray of golden flutes.
Flapping her raincoat in excitement, Ava eagerly takes a flute in her hand, eyes shining at the beautiful glinting color of the alcohol, “Why, thank you. You came just in time.”
“I saw.” The waiter cheekily replies, “Miss Romero seems quite busy for someone who’s just arrived.”
Raising an eyebrow in subtle approval, Ava inquires, “Indeed. You’re familiar with this crowd?”
The waiter shrugs, “I make a habit of researching before I walk into any party, ma’am.” leaning close, he purposely lowers his voice so Ava has to tilt her head down, “I’m a big fan of your non-profit, by the way. My cousin, who is trans, has been staying at one of your shelters after she got kicked out of her home by her parents, and was just referred to a job via your associate program with ARQ-TECH.”
Ava’s eyes brighten like stars. Whether they’re tears or just the reflection of the chandelier, she can’t say.
“That’s awesome, dude. I’m so glad we got to help your cousin.” She startles, “I’m so sorry for my poor manners. I’m Ava, but you already knew that. What’s your name?”
The waiter reciprocates her handshake easily, his other hand steady as he upholds the tray of alcoholic flutes, “Jamie. It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Ava.”
“Me too!” She chirps, taking a sip of her drink. “Hmm, delicious. May I ask what's in these?"
Jamie shrugs helplessly, "Apologies. The host asked to keep the ingredients a secret.” He leans back into her space, Ava does too, enjoying the little play they’re putting up, “I believe it's one of his family's trade secrets. I hear through the grapevines that the tears of a siren are involved."
Ava giggles, taking another sip. It’s rather delicious, if not a little twangy. "I can respect that. Thank you for indulging my silly question, Jamie."
The waiter gives a polite nod, his smile gentle, "Not a problem. If you’ll excuse me, I have to keep these drinks going to the other guests.”
Nodding rapidly, Ava gives the boy a beaming smile back, “Of course! Thank you so much for talking to me and sharing about your cousin. I hope she has a great time working for ARQ-TECH. They have a really cool boss, I would know.”
Chuckling at Ava’s wink, Jamie bows deep, tray miraculously stationed without moving even an inch, “I’ll pass on the information. Enjoy the rest of the party, Ava."
With that, Jamie bids Ava goodbye.
Ava barely gets to enjoy her drink, her very peculiar but also very delicious drink, before she finds her attention being captured once more.
Though this time inherently less appealing than the one before.
“Ava, hey! Fancy seeing you here!”
Lord please give me the strength to not hurl this axe into someone’s head by the end of this conversation, because that head will probably be mine.
“Hello, JC…”
Following Ava’s worst mistake is his familiar raggle of friends. Ava feels her heart lighten just a smidge when her eyes meet a waving Chanel.
“Chanel, oh I’ve missed you!” Ava laughs delightedly, throwing her arms around a laughing Chanel’s waist, her heart warm at her friend reciprocating her embrace without hesitation.
“Hello, darling. You’re looking sexy.” Chanel tells her, eyes scanning up then down Ava’s body. It makes her preen.
“Speak for yourself! What are you dressed as- holy shit, you’re Poison Ivy.” Ava is in awe, spinning her friend around in a twirl. “Honey, if I’m sexy, you’re smoking.”
“You’re too kind.” Chanel giggles at the kiss Ava places on her knuckles like a fucking Victorian gentleman. “Are you here alone?”
Before Ava can say no, JC butts himself into their conversation, “Oh just come hang out with us then.”
“Oh I–” “Hard pass, thank you.”
Holding back her every bodily urge to snarl back at Zori, Ava takes a deep breath.
“I’m here with Camila, actually.”
“Oh, well, where is she then?” JC immediately challenges, the smug smirk on his face saying enough. “Usually you guys are attached at the hips.”
“Camila has her own friends she wants to say hi to.”
Zori scoffs, “I’m surprised she still even has friends after having to put up with you for so long.”
“Nice to see you too, Zori.” Ava gives the scowling girl a faux smile. “I see you dressed up. Maybe the New York Times will finally get you on their cover now that you have that muffle on your face.”
Admittedly, Ava takes a significant amount of perverted pleasure at Zori’s snarling face. The girl’s always been a thorn in her side, especially when she was still dating her golden boy– who, by the way, still has that obnoxious grin on his face as he, once again, stands by and lets his friends trample all over Ava without consequences.
Chanel is the only exception, who’s always had her back, hurriedly getting in between Ava and Zori, teeth bared at Zori in a clear attempt of intimidation, “Quit it. We’re here to have fun, not engaging in some childish elementary dick-measuring contest.”
“She fucking started it.” Zori continues, her scowl only deepening at Ava’s smug and victorious grin. “Whatever. We’re bouncing. You can come with us or be left behind, Chanel.”
“Yeah, sure.” Chanel grumbles, her face softening greatly when she turns back to address Ava. “I’ll see you around, darling?”
Ava nods, leaning up to place a departing kiss on Chanel’s cheek, “Of course. Shout if you need me.”
Chanel reciprocates Ava’s kiss with her own, deliberately holding on to hear Ava giggle. When she finally departs into the wave of people, Ava feels like a part of her heart is walking away too.
She’s never had feelings deeper than sisterly towards Chanel, for the record. It’s just been so long since she’s gotten to see her, her work with Cat’s Cradle taking up most of her time and Chanel being an incredibly high demand supermodel at Vogue also doesn’t help make their scheduling any easier.
Ava promises to at least set up a brunch with her and Camila next weekend. There’s a new coffee shop on her streets she’s been dying to try, and she needs an excuse to get out of bed on the weekend.
Speaking of excuses, Ava needs a really good one right now to escape the smarmy grin on JC’s lips, who unfortunately had not gone with the rest of his friends. Seriously, what the fuck has she even seen in this guy.
“Dick measuring contest, eh? I’m sure you can attest as to how I would solo that.”
Jesus Christ, who on Earth would say that in real life– “JC, please get it through your head that I am not and will never be interested in you again.”
Typical JC, he doesn’t bother pretending to listen to a word Ava says. “Stop lying to yourself, Ava. You know you miss us together. I can’t be the only one.”
JC was never a malicious man. He was a bit pushy and had a temper most people should steer away from, but not once has Ava been genuinely terrified of him.
She sure is frightened now, slowly being cornered into the nearest wall. Dressed as a slutty firefighter, with no shirt and wearing only a pair of baggy pants, JC’s entire torso is exposed, the veins of his flexing muscles only making every hair on Ava’s body stand up to attention.
The closer he gets, the more clogged her throat becomes.
As if he senses her fear and feasts on it, JC’s smile broadens wide, “See? You want to kiss me so bad, I can tell. Let’s go find a room and have a good time.”
“I said no, JC. Leave me alone.” Ava hates that her voice breaks in the middle.
It hitches when her back finally meets the brick wall, panicked eyes darting across the room for someone, anyone, to help. JC steps into the space before anyone can, one of his bulky arms coming to land on the side of Ava’s head.
“Lighten up. I’m sure you’ll loosen yourself once I get your panties off. You used to get so wet for me so quickly.” JC smears, his breath now hot and unbearably claustrophobic on Ava’s face. She leans back as much as she can, but there’s no escape. “Are you turned on, Ava? All this saying no shit when you’d be saying yes once I get my dick in your mouth?”
Ava’s hand flexes on her ax, questioning her decision to just hurl the thing at JC’s head. The ax itself is made of plastic, so probably harmless to anyone under the age of 80, but at least it’ll give her an opening to run into the growingly crowded mass of partygoers.
Fuck it. I have nothing else to lose.
Ava’s grip tightens, and she’s about to swing.
She can do it. She can do it.
Just one swing in the middle of JC’s crotch and she’ll make a run for it.
She can do it.
“Now what’s a public servant like you doing cornering a lady into a dark corner of the room like this.”
Ava’s eyes practically bulge out of their sockets as one of JC’s suspenders gets twisted in what appears to be a sword. The assailant wastes no time in yanking JC back by the piece of cloth and inserting themselves in between Ava and her ex-boyfriend.
Head turned only slightly, Ava can see amber-like eyes encased in a leather half-mask, the assailant asks under their breath, “Do you need help? Nod once for yes, twice for no.”
Ava nods once. Suppresses her urge to keep nodding like a good girl.
The masked hero nods before turning back towards a fuming JC, his suspender still caught within their sword.
“The fuck, bitch. This is none of your business!”
“Ah, on the contrary,” the sword twists and cleanly cuts one of JC’s suspenders like they’re made of butter, “If you see something, say something. In this case, I might as well do something before you get your filthy hands on the lady.”
JC snarls, his whole body trembling like that of an infuriated chihuahua, “Again, this is none of your business. What are you supposed to be anyway?”
“Why, I would have thought it was obvious to anyone with a singular functioning brain cell, but alas.” The sword snaps again, cutting off JC’s other suspender. The masked vigilante steers its tip so it almost pierces JC’s chest– would pierce if they push just a little harder. “I’m Zorro. I don’t typically make a habit of rescuing damsels in distress like my alter ego, as I believe women are capable of handling things by themselves, but you were proving yourself to be a pest.”
“Just go, JC. I don’t want you here.” Ava finally finds her voice, bravely clutching at the dark cloak of the kind stranger. Much to her relief, Ava meets zero objection.
JC’s head whirs around, his anger now directed straight at Ava. She hates that it makes her flinch. “The fuck, Ava? You’re just going to let a stranger talk to me like that? After he destroyed my costume too?”
“I will do a lot worse if you don’t make yourself scram.” Zorro practically growls, their low rasp and a clear British accent sending several jolts of electricity into Ava’s underwear. She really needs to get laid soon.
Ava braves herself for JC to continue his rants, he was never one to give up a fight when he sees one, only to sigh in relief when she sees Chanel stomping her way back to them.
Chanel looks pissed. Angry is a more accurate term.
Not even waiting for anyone to register her presence, Chanel snatches the waistband of JC’s pants and drags him away. No one bats an eye at his mouth spewing hateful vitriols at Zorro and Ava.
She would be pissed if she wasn’t so used to this sort of behavior from people of her own class.
Mouth open to say thank you, Ava finds herself gasping speechless instead when Zorro fully turns around to face her.
Holy shit she’s beautiful.
Beautiful is, admittedly, a confusing understatement when Ava can’t even see her heroine’s entire face. She just can’t help but think that adjective is the most perfect to describe the kind, almost amber eyes glinting back at hers.
A good half a head taller than Ava herself, Zorro possesses a build that Ava would love to climb like a tree. Broad and wide shoulders with a jawline so sharp it can probably cut through metal, dressed in all black with a matching half-mask on her face and an adorable hat on her head, Zorro looks the epitome of a knight.
“Are you okay, miss?” Zorro asks, clearly worried. Ava watches attentively as she tucks the sword– saber– who cares, back into its holder by her hip. That’s… that’s strangely very hot, do I have a kink?
“Yes! Yes, I’m peachy.” Ava winces internally, her smile widening to make up for the slip-up. "Pleasure to meet you, kind sir, and thank you for saving me. I’ll admit, I haven't had the chance to see any movies with you in it.”
Zorro chuckles, her cape flying as she moves, “No worries, as neither have I. My friend insisted on this outfit. He said it complimented my physique.”
Ava suppresses the urge to nod repeatedly in agreement, biting down on her lower lip as she slowly takes in the bulging biceps straining against the sleeves of Zorro’s black shirt as well as the muscular thighs just screaming to burst out of the seams of Zorro’s slacks.
“Your friend has great taste.” Ava finally says, sneakily wiping off any drool that might have left her mouth in the process. “I didn’t catch your name. I’m Ava, I work for a non-profit.”
For the record, it’s really hard for Ava to not audibly moan when her handshake is reciprocated in a grip so strong and firm. Oh to have those hands on her, in her–
“I’m Beatrice, self-published novelist.” Zorro says, lips Ava very much wants to munch on curling up in a dazzling smile. Beatrice is such a pretty name. “I feel very rude wearing my mask talking to you. Admittedly, a little bit like a creep too.”
Ava giggles, liking where this is going, “Well, I wouldn’t exactly mind if you take it off. I think you’d look just as handsome underneath that mask.”
Beatrice merely chuckles at Ava’s flirting. She needs to up her game then.
Just as Beatrice raises her hands up to remove her mask, Ava ensnares them in her captive, purposely leaning her chest forward to show off her cleavage.
“Allow me?” Ava asks hopefully, her voice the perfect balance between sultry and innocent.
Amber eyes blink rapidly, Ava’s mouth doing its best to not curl up in a pleased smirk, before Beatrice nods and lets Ava have her way with her.
Hopefully in more ways than one later.
Ava goes slow, taking too much delight in the way Beatrice’s breath audibly hitches once again at Ava’s cleavage leaning in even closer. Her hands gently grasp the mask and, with a small snap of the bands tied around Beatrice’s ears, moves it out of the way.
Holy. Shit. Fuck balls.
The atmosphere around them shifts, with an almost startling intensity that drips and pours into the blood of their bodies. Ava will remember the moment their bare eyes meet for the first time forever.
Forget beautiful. Ava wants to marry this girl.
Beatrice’s amber eyes are shining even brighter in the backdrop of her adorable freckles. She also has the cutest nose Ava’s ever seen. The combination of her smile lines and the shy purse of lips she's doing makes Ava want to swoon.
Forget playing hard to get. Ava wants to sit on her face right now.
“Bea, kiss me?”
Beatrice is already leaning in.
Their lips meet for the very first time, and it feels like magic.
It's odd to feel a kiss with someone for whom she feels so much lust for to be sweet, but it is and Ava can't get enough.
Their lips dance together like old friends and older lovers, pushing and pulling and head tilting without even a single word exchanged.
Beatrice is instinctive but at the same time careful as she kisses Ava, every movement gentle and assertive. Like she wants Ava so badly but she won't if Ava asks. Consent has been and always will be sexy but Good God, Beatrice is doing the message so much justice here.
Ava lets out a small hum that seemingly encourages Beatrice to kiss her deeper, the hand on her chin tilting her head back to get a deeper angle. With her back still pressed against the wall, Ava easily follows the silent order and looks up, moaning at the smallest taste of Beatrice’s tongue already peeking out.
How eager. I like it.
Beatrice’s skin is cool to the touch, as well as the shaven sides of her hair that Ava immediately finds her nails digging into. If it hurts Beatrice in any way, she doesn’t show it.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Ava pants heavily, finally being released from that delicious prison after what felt like hours of just exchanging wet, languid kisses.
Her lips feel sore, she can tell they’re slick and wet with traces of Beatrice’s saliva painting them red and pretty pink. Ava won’t even think of what makes of her hair, likely tousled to a point of unsalvageable after feeling Beatrice’s slender fingers pulling on it just now.
Beatrice’s chest barely moves, her heart a steady thump thump underneath Ava’s palm. The only way Ava can tell Beatrice is just as turned on as she is by the dilated pupils of her gorgeous eyes, the ones of which haven’t yet looked away from Ava’s surely swollen lips.
“I know just the place. Would you follow me?”
“Of course.” You don’t even know the last of it.
-
It doesn't take long for Ava to, once again, find herself pressed up against another wall, only this time she is being kissed senseless by someone she actually wants to break her in half.
Her Patrick Bateman costume’s ax and raincoat disposed of somewhere along the way, Ava now only has her tuxedo suit as barricades preventing her from feeling Beatrice on her naked skin.
All things considered, Beatrice is a great kisser. She knows to tilt her head in this direction and that without Ava having to tell her, almost as if anticipating Ava’s every move by pure instincts alone. The idea of already being known so well by a girl so amazing shouldn’t sound so delicious but it is and it is burning a fire deep inside Ava.
Or perhaps she’s just really horny and needs to be fucked six ways to Sunday pronto.
The latter theory is sounding truer by the minute, that tightly coiled frustration in Ava’s belly urging her to keep letting out the most pathetic moans as she lets Beatrice kiss her to oblivion, the sword on Beatrice’s hip sometimes digging into her side making her panties drench.
“You’re such a good kisser, Bea,” she praises, yanking Beatrice closer in by her hair. Her hand grazes at the Zorro hat, the imagery of Beatrice with her hat still on kissing her like she’s planning to fuck her mouth with just her tongue only makes Ava feel even hornier. “Bea, Bea–”
Beatrice waits until she has one of Ava’s legs hooked around her hips, earning a guttural moan when Ava’s crotch meets a surface to grind on, before answering “Ava, your lips… You taste so good. So much better than anything I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
The next kiss she presses against Ava’s mouth is notably more sinful, a statement that could be considered understated depending on how you judge the filthy twin moans they let out in unison.
Finally tired of the barrier between them, Ava moves to shove off her blazer. The movement is enthusiastically assisted by Beatrice, in that she grabs onto Ava’s hands already on the lapel and yanks the jacket flaps open, sending buttons flying everywhere.
“Bea!” Ava yelps, her chest practically heaving as the intense wave of arousal suddenly flushes through her every vein. She herself can’t care less about her expensive tux jacket now laying pathetically on the floor, only in the way Beatrice’s hazel eyes are glued onto Ava’s chest region. “I’m not a museum exhibit, Bea. You can come here and touch me.”
Ava swears she could have seen Beatrice’s glint a shade of red, but before she can even ponder the thought for more than two seconds, Beatrice is once again pushing her back against the wall and kissing her stupid.
“Fuck, Bea, you’re so hot,” Ava pants, then squeaks as Beatrice’s hands reach for under her thighs and lifts her up into the air.
The momentum is a little overzealous, almost sending Ava toppling into Beatrice, who thankfully still manages to stand upright despite the surprise. As a result of their slight tumble, their kiss breaks with a loud pop, replaced by Ava’s squeak and Beatrice’s panicked apologies.
“Shit, I’m so sorry, Ava. Are you okay? Do you want me to put you down?”
Shaking her head at the ridiculous notion, Ava grabs onto Beatrice’s black shirt with a fervor of a hungry man, “No, no, no need. You just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”
“Are you sure?” Beatrice’s eyes, aside from the obvious dilation, are dripping with worry. Like she's ready to drop it all if Ava shows even just the smallest sign of discomfort. If Ava was standing, she would have swooned and fainted– in that order.
“Yes, Bea, I promise.” Ava smiles to show she means it, her own eyes dilating as her hands run up and down Beatrice’s bulging biceps currently holding her suspended in the air, giving them a firm squeeze, “Look what we have here. So firm and hard. You’re a strong knight, aren’t you, Bea.”
Her face clearly trying to be cocky, but her cheeks blooming in pink betrays Beatrice’s shy nature. “I try, darling. Are my arms up to your liking?”
Ava downright purrs, the grin splitting her lips open turning into something a little more wicked.
“Are they?” She asks, leaning back into Beatrice’s space and deliberately pauses right before their lips can touch. Oh how she preens at the audible hitch in Beatrice’s breath when Ava sticks her tongue out to lightly lick at Beatrice’s upper lip. “I can’t quite tell yet, Bea. I’m afraid the only way to know is if I get to see them flex as you curl your fingers inside me.”
Again, there’s that tiny twinkle of red in Beatrice’s eyes flashing.
Ava almost asks if there’s a security camera around whose reflection shines in her eyes, but she gets distracted once more by the animalistic growl that escapes Beatrice’s throat before she places Ava down on her thighs, pins Ava’s wrists to the wall, and, in a feat that would make half the sapphic population on this planet combust, uses her Zorro sword to cut open Ava’s dress shirt with impossible ease.
The cold air of the castle’s ventilator meets Ava’s naked skin in a sea of goosebumps, her lacy black bra now showing for everyone to see. Specifically, for Beatrice’s clearly hungry eyes to feast on.
“Fuck, Bea.” Ava moans loudly, her breath caught in her throat, making her chest heave even heavier than before. The cool metal blade of Beatrice’s saber momentarily coming into contact with her naked skin only makes her hornier. Her brain is so fuzzy with lust she can barely think straight. “Touch me. I'm yours. They’re all yours.”
In less than a second after receiving the permission, Beatrice goes back to smacking her lips against Ava’s and flips up one of her bra cups.
One of her tits is out.
Anyone who rounds the corner of this part of the castle will be guaranteed a show, Ava’s entire left breast exposed into the open air, already perky nipple stiffening in the cold air-conditioned breeze, before being engulfed in Beatrice’s hand.
Beatrice's very strong, very large hand.
“That feels good, Bea,” Ava moans, panting into Beatrice’s warm mouth, “I love feeling your hand on my tit. Do you like them?”
The smirk that grazes Beatrice’s swollen lips is so attractive, it makes Ava want to vomit butterflies, “Only a fool would not. They feel really nice in my hand,” Her index finger flicks gently at Ava’s hardened nipple, her smirk only widening at the needy whimper escaping Ava’s lips. “and so sensitive. May I have permission to put them in my mouth, Ava?”
“God fuck, yes, please,” Ava breathes out, her cunt practically dripping wetly down her panties at Beatrice’s seductive tone. “Please, Bea, in your mouth. I want my tits in your mouth. Play with them, suck on them, lick them, anything you want.”
The next kisses Beatrice presses against her lips are hungry, like she wants to devour Ava whole. Ava continues to moan deliciously in her mouth, enjoying the way Beatrice’s hand alternates between massaging her breast, toying with her nipple, and squeezing it like play dough. The experience only heightened to its max with her hands still pinned to the wall with no chance of getting out.
Ava’s long since known she was bestowed by the Gods with the most magnificent pair of breasts. They’ve been showered with general amazement and fascination throughout Ava’s adult life, but never has it felt this good. Nothing and no one has ever made Ava feel as good as Beatrice with one of Ava’s nipples swirling in her mouth, the other flicked and rolled into a stiff ball even as still covered by her bra.
Jesus Christ, where has this girl been all my life.
“Bea, that’s so good. You make me feel so good,” Ava moans pathetically, her words starting to slur as her orgasm is rushing in closer and closer by the minute. Her crotch grinding against Beatrice picks up its pace, something her partner notices and thrusts her hips back in kind. “Fuck- I’m already so close, Bea– Bea, please!”
“Take it. Take whatever you want from me, Ava. Use me.”
Just a little more. More. More.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck Bea!”
Ava comes with a series of whimper, her limbs twitching as Beatrice’s lips escort her down from her first orgasm of the night. Because Ava’s determined to have another one, dammit.
Still sitting squarely on Beatrice's thigh, who is taking care not to move lest she jolts Ava’s still sensitive pussy, Ava reaches over to land soft kisses all over her partner’s face.
“That was a good experience, I take it?”
Ava has to giggle, admittedly already a little delirious. “You fucked me good without even taking all of my clothes off. What do you think, Bea?”
“I think you look beautiful.” Beatrice sounds so reverent it makes Ava honest to God blush. Like a virgin. “So beautiful, I want to see you come again.”
Ava’s hips automatically jolt at the crass request, her mouth hissing when her still sensitive cunt electrocutes her. “Shit, Bea, let me take a breather first, please.”
“Of course, Ava.” Beatrice says as she places a gentle kiss on Ava’s nose, then her forehead, then the corner of her lips. “Anything you need. Just say the word.”
Her heart already picking up again, Ava growls, “What I want is for you to stop talking and use that mouth for something else more worthy of your time.”
So much for a breather.
“Hmm, and what would that be?” She can feel Beatrice’s smirk against her skin, now moving down to Ava’s jawline, then her neck, finally landing where her pulse point should be. “Tell me, Ava. Where do you want me to put my mouth? Here?”
Beatrice's teeth sink into her skin. Ava moans loudly.
Ava's getting really loud, her sounds of pleasure echoing through the walls of the corridor they're in. She can't help it, writhing in pleasure as Beatrice makes her marks on Ava’s skin, the possessiveness scratching at a part of Ava’s brain she definitely wasn't aware about before.
“Bea, Bea, that's so good, God you’re so good with your mouth,” Ava’s lips practically shower Beatrice with praises, her fingers carding through her partner’s hair.
So lost in her pleasure, Ava fails to pick up on the sound of incoming footsteps.
By the time she hears a jolly whistle that sounds too raspy to be Beatrice's, Ava is panicking.
Before she can do something stupid, like scream at the patrolling staff just doing their job, Beatrice is removing her lips from Ava’s neck and, in a feat that sounds like a direct ripoff of a comic book panel, uses her Zorro cape to shield Ava’s indecent body.
Just in time too, as immediately after Ava grabs onto Beatrice's shoulders for dear life and hides behind her cape, the silhouette of a familiar waiter comes into view.
“Jamie?”
“Oh- hi?” The boy visibly falters, confused eyes blown wide open when the epiphany hits. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!”
Jamie turns around faster than either of them can excuse him. Unlike Ava, Beatrice seems a lot calmer about this entire situation.
“Jamie? Was there a reason why you came all the way over here?” She should not sound as sexy as she does being so polite towards the staff while protecting Ava’s dignity. Ava needs to raise her standards.
“N-no! I was just– nope. Nothing. I wasn’t looking for anything. Nope!”
“Right” Beatrice exchanges a subtle look with Ava. She can’t understand it, but it makes her giggle and hide into the crook of Beatrice’s shoulder regardless. “Well, can we have our privacy back then?”
“Right! Right! Apologies!” Jamie starts to walk back where he came from, but when he’s about to turn the corner, Jamie pauses “Not to be overly helpful or anything, but there’s a room right next to you. If you, you know, need a place.”
“Thank you, Jamie. We got it from here. I’ll be sure to leave you a grandiose review.”
Ava’s giggles sputter out slowly against Beatrice’s neck, bursting into loud laughters when the poor boy finally disappears behind the corner again.
“That was lowkey embarrassing, even if I had done more scandalous things in the past.” Ava confesses, mindlessly playing with the collar of Beatrice’s shirt.
“Oh? And what would these scandalous things be?”
Ava hums, enjoying being the center of Beatrice’s curiosity and attention. “I once talked my delivery driver into eating me out against the door while the rest of my housewarming guests were busy munching on the pizzas they delivered.”
Ava didn’t know what she expected from Beatrice, probably a hum, a laugh, or maybe even a whistle. To see Beatrice’s amber eyes turning almost black with desire, pupils dilating so much for a second she almost looks non-human, was another burst of arousal streaking down into her terribly soaked panties.
“I think I know what’s next on our agenda. Hold on tight.”
Her hands already gripping Beatrice’s shirt for dear life, Ava finds herself less disoriented this time when Beatrice yanks her back up in the air. She doesn’t even care how Beatrice is looking where she’s going, too busy capturing Beatrice’s lips in a fierce kiss.
Somehow, at some point, they’re inside a room, and Ava’s back is pressed against its door.
Well, at least it’s not a wall this time. She can use the variety.
Separating their mouths with a loud pop, Beatrice breathes heavily onto Ava’s quivering lips “May I undress you, Ava?”
“Fuck, fuck of course. Please. Take my pants off.”
Ava’s far past the point of caring about how pathetically needy she sounds, now just focusing on getting Beatrice’s mouth, Beatrice’s tongue, Beatrice’s anything, on her, in her–
Her pants go first, Beatrice slipping the piece of clothing off as easy as butter. Ava preens at the hungry gaze Beatrice directs at her toned legs. After taking off her boots, bronze hands move to caress her thighs, slowly prying them open so Beatrice can fit her head in between Ava’s legs.
Fucking hell, finally.
Ava’s finally getting to feel Beatrice’s shaved sides in between her legs, and it feels so fucking good.
“You’re so wet, Ava. You look like you’re all ready for me.” Beatrice teases, looking up at Ava with hooded eyes. Her finger hooks against the string of Ava’s lacy black panties, slowly dragging it down her leg. The wet flop it makes when it touches the ground only serves to prove just how riled up Ava is again. “You want me to eat you out, Ava? Just like that delivery driver did?”
“Yes, yes please– please, put your mouth on me, I need you– FUCK”
She’s already predicted that Beatrice would be skilled, but that feeling of her tongue swiping at Ava’s pulsating clit for the first time– Ava thinks she’ll turn 70 and still won’t be able to forget it.
Head thumping against the door, Ava’s hands run their course through Beatrice’s hair, occasionally yanking her closer to her pussy. Down there, Beatrice does her diligence, flicking her tongue here and scraping her teeth against a patch of skin there.
A rhythm is established in no time, their sexual chemistry once again making itself known. Ava’s hips start to grind harder, faster against Beatrice’s face, so much that Beatrice has to physically hold her down so she’d stop wiggling.
Hooking one of Ava's legs over her shoulder for a better vantage point, Beatrice successfully ruins Ava for anyone else ever again by smacking a hand down the side of her ass cheek, pulling on the skin as she drills her tongue in deeper and faster, “Hold still, darling. Behave for me.”
“Fuck! Fuck, Bea. Fuck me, fuck me harder, right there, yes yes yes”
Beatrice sure is a great lover, fucking Ava so good so hard fucking into her so deep right there, right there– “God yes, yes, yes, there, almost there- FUCKK”
Just like that, Beatrice gives Ava her second orgasm.
Ava doesn’t even get to take a breather before finding herself lifted up in the air for the third time in one night. She doesn’t need to, honestly, quickly thrown down onto the mattress with her naked, sweaty body sprawled out with her pussy still dripping with her come for her partner to see.
Ava wants her to look. Look at Ava, remember Ava, long for Ava forever.
Beatrice wastes no time in following Ava to the bed, her hands again pinning back Ava’s wrists as she presses more dirty kisses against Ava’s mouth.
“That was beautiful. You were so beautiful.” Beatrice’s praises pour even more gasoline into Ava’s spine, making her arch her chest up, wanting to be touched. “I want to put my fingers in you. Can I do that? Can I fuck you with my fingers now?”
Ava feels like her body is going to explode.
“Fuck! Yes, Bea! Put your fingers in me. Fuck me. Fuck me till I forget my own name.”
Their mouths don’t separate even as Ava lets Beatrice undress the rest of her. Her shirt is definitely torn off of her, her bra probably suffers a similar fate, and what’s left of Ava is just two lonely nipples aching to be sucked and nibbled by Beatrice’s talented mouth.
Which she does, enthusiastically, swirling her tongue against one before moving to the other and doing the same thing, all the while sliding her fingers down, down, and finally into where Ava needs her the most.
At the first graze of a finger, Ava screams “Yes, baby! That’s it! Inside me! I want you inside me!”
Beatrice thrusts one, then two, then slowly three, each of her motions strong and fast and– “More! Harder! Fuck me harder!”
“Tell me what you need, Ava. Come for me. Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”
“Faster, Bea. Faster. I need you to go faster– fuck, right there! Right there! Yes! Yes!”
The orgasm is hitting. Almost there. Almost there. Almost–
Ava comes with a sputtering whimper, hiding her panting and red flushed cheeks in Beatrice’s neck. Her legs are shaking like crazy, every muscle constricting and convulsing like she’s being electrocuted.
Above her, Beatrice holds her close.
Magical lips place gentle kisses on Ava’s hairline, moving methodically but with clear affection too. The same lips are pouring praises into Ava’s skin like she wants to imprint Ava’s body with those words, words like–
“You’re beautiful, so beautiful.”
“You look like an angel.”
“Thank you for letting me make you feel good. Thank you.”
Eventually Ava calms enough to breathe like a normal person, her heart still thumping wildly, because that’s just its default setting around Beatrice now apparently, but at least it’s not trying to jump out of her chest and do the Macarena.
Her hands twitch, the realization coming to her when her palms meet fabric and not naked skin.
“Bea, you’re still dressed.” Ava whines, equipping her most powerful pout. One with the puppy eyes and the jutted swollen lips. “Can I see you too?”
Ava didn’t even have to work that hard. Beatrice immediately nods in agreement, and she leans back after placing one last soft kiss on Ava’s puckering lips.
The displeased whine that escapes Ava when Beatrice moves away from her gets shoved back down almost immediately, her mouth finding its time better used to gawk as Beatrice slowly undresses herself.
Her cape goes first, unclasped and thrown to the floor. The way it flies majestically down should be studied rigorously, because how does Beatrice make every movement of her look so effortlessly cool.
The Zorro hat goes next, Ava files a mental note to revisit her apparent thing with hats at a later time. She bites her lips as the show begins to get to the good part, aka Beatrice’s unbuttoning her tight black shirt.
One button. Two buttons. Three buttons– holy shit that’s a lot of skin.
Coming from Ava, who is literally as bare as the day she was born, it sounds utterly ridiculous.
Slowly but surely, Beatrice's torso is exposed for the whole world to see. Underneath her shirt, Beatrice wears a singular sports bra that still manages to do her beautiful breasts justice. Beneath the bra is, Ava’s brain is short-circuiting as she registers this, a plane of abdomen muscles so beautifully defined from possibly years of hard work or incredibly gifted genetics.
Ava can't wait to lick it.
Up next on the one-woman show is, holy shit here it comes, or me, maybe, hopefully, Beatrice's pants.
Ava’s partner stares her down as she flicks her slacks button open, slithering out of them with the finesse of a gymnast. Ava’s mouth is too busy being dry and parched at the sight of golden skin finally revealed to her to notice Beatrice is smirking slyly at her from above.
Left in just her bra and her boxer, Beatrice waves her arms out in a ta-dah motion.
“Are you satisfied, my lady?”
Ava whines, very well aware she is sounding less sex goddess and more a petulant child, “You're not touching me! And you’re still clothed!”
“Oh right, of course” Beatrice exaggerates her words, quirking an eyebrow at Ava’s bulging eyes as she proceeds to yank her bra off in one go. “How about now?”
“Fuck, yeah… you're, you're–” Ava gulps, zeroing in on perky nipples she wants in her mouth right here, right now. “You're so gorgeous, Bea.”
Beatrice takes the compliment in stride, crawling back up to Ava.
Ava’s hands automatically return to their favorite spot, encircling Beatrice's neck as she leans down to kiss Ava again.
Her hands wander, as they are known to do, moving from Beatrice's adorable ears to her muscular back. She can feel her flexing at Ava’s touch, making her moan deeply into Beatrice's mouth as they continue to kiss languidly. Her hands finally meet their intended location, only to be utterly dismayed at the last piece of cloth preventing her from getting what she wants.
“Bea, your umm” Ava pants, trying desperately to remember her own native tongue, “Your boxer. Take it off.”
Beatrice's hips thrust up at the command, earning a guttural moan spilling from Ava’s slick wet lips. Both of them. But she does as she's told, reaching back one of the hands she was using to fondle Ava’s breast and tug her boxer off with one easy motion.
Ava wastes no time and, fuck, finally get her hands on that magnificent ass.
“Your ass, Bea,” Ava praises, sucking on Beatrice's lower lip with a ferality she never knew she possessed. Her fingers grip tightly onto the perky flesh, lightheaded at the way it molds like playdough in her hands. “You have an incredible ass. So firm and hard.”
“Ava, Ava–” Beatrice pants heavily into Ava’s mouth, showing the first sign of her fluster. Ava is going to chase that harder than a hyena. “Your breasts, they're so nice. They fit so well in my mouth, in my hands. When I flick my tongue, they perk up and feel so good against my teeth.”
The tables are once again turned, as Beatrice disconnects their kiss with a filthy pop, leaving behind a string of their saliva dripping down onto Ava’s chest. Beatrice follows it like one would their God, her tongue licking the saliva away before moving to engulf Ava’s breast in her mouth again.
“You like my tits, Bea? You're a boob girl, aren't you– oh God” Ava continues to moan as she feels her nipple being toyed with, her hands still kneading at Beatrice's ass only moving at a faster speed, subconsciously pushing it down then up then grinding down onto her throbbing cunt. “Fuck you're so good. You make me feel so good, baby.”
Words soon become inconsequential, the only sounds in the room now their heavy breathings and indicators of their lovemaking. Ava imagines it, some poor soul walking by this door will hear Ava’s praise as she urges Beatrice to suck her tits harder, Beatrice's reverent murmuring of Ava’s name as her hips keep coming down to meet Ava’s.
“Fuck, Bea! I’m coming, I’m coming again–”
“Me too, Me too. Let go, Ava. Come with me. Come with me.”
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck– OH GOD”
Suddenly Ava finds herself no longer pinned beneath Beatrice’s body, but instead on top of her.
Somehow, at some point, Beatrice’s fingers are back inside her wet pussy. Only they're already pounding into her, each thrust making a squelching sound that makes Ava blush beet red.. Ava focuses on chasing her pleasure, too horny to care about logistics, feeling Beatrice's fingers stretching her out so good, so deep in her–
“I want to see you ride my fingers. Go on, Ava. Ride me till you come.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck okay”
Ava’s hips move slowly at first, her hands finding purchase at Beatrice’s naked chest. Her legs are stationed firmly onto the mattress, trapping Beatrice’s hips in the middle as she begins to ride her for all she’s worth.
Slowly, surely, with Beatrice’s gentle hands giving her ass encouraging squeezes, Ava starts to bounce.
She lets her lust take over her body completely, her cunt bouncing onto Beatrice's fingers, feeling Beatrice’s eyes glued to Ava’s bouncing tits too.
“Grab my tit, Bea. Grab it. Oh God it's so good! You're fucking me so good!”
All of a sudden, the house feels alive once again.
Ava’s mind goes hazy with lust.
She doesn't care.
All she wants is this.
To be fucked by Beatrice.
To be loved by Beatrice.
That's all she wants.
The house rumbles. Energy pulses.
Lives she never had flash before her eyes.
Flash.
There's a killer on the loose.
There's a killer on the loose and yet all Ava cares about is being a good girl for Bea, being so good and quiet that Bea will finally uncuff her from this chair and let Ava repay her eagerly eating her out from under the table.
Oh but she looks so good in her police uniform, on her knees for an ex-convict lowlife like Ava purely for the sake of the mission.
Ava knows that's what Beatrice likes to tell herself, but it hasn't been true for months and Ava has long since evolved from just being her confidential informant.
Even if Detective Malcolm won't acknowledge that and refuses to do so by never letting Ava touch her.
“Bea, Bea, that feels so good, Bea…” Ava praises, futilely wiggling.
Down there, with Ava’s pussy on her mouth and Ava’s breast jiggling in her palm, Detective Malcolm doesn’t deign Ava with a response, only humming in smug pride as she continues to drill her tongue inside Ava.
“Fuck, fuck, so good” Ava’s moans continue to grow louder and louder, her hands twisting and pulling the detective’s hair with a feral hunger, “More, more, I need more, Bea, Bea I’m so close–”
Flash.
They're in the back of a pickup truck, night stars as their backdrop, and Ava is bouncing herself on Beatrice's strap.
Up and down, up and down, the sounds of crickets and nearby breezes not as nearly as breathtaking as Ava’s needy moans of pleasure as the strap hits her hard, hits her fast, and hits her right there, right there, right there–
“Bea! Bea! Feel so good, you feel so good inside me…”
“You look so good, darling. So beautiful, so beautiful riding me like this.”
“Bea, Bea–”
There are a lot of things that Ava could be thinking about right now, but the only conscious stream of thought her last brain cell can retain is that the fluorescent dildo glows obnoxiously bright at night.
Ava sees it, hell the farmer who lives at the horse ranch two miles away from here can see it too if he peeks out of his windows, an annoying shade of green not unlike Kryptonite, pistoning inside Ava’s wet pussy.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so good, you’re fucking me so good,” Ava praises as she grabs onto the truck’s railings for her dear life, simultaneously pushing her ass back to meet Beatrice’s increasingly fast thrusts, “You look so good from this angle, Bea. Pounding your strap in my ass like that.”
Her girlfriend of 3 years and best friend of 12 only gives a low chuckle before she speeds up the pace of her twisting hips, together dragging Ava down into the pit of sinful pleasure with her.
The truck shakes like a madman underneath Ava’s hands, and it only gets more exciting when she feels Beatrice’s palm landing a smack, then two, then three, on her bare ass.
“Fuck! Baby! So good! Spank me! Spank me more!”
Flash.
On the desk where Beatrice’s father works, Ava is sprawled out on it like an 8-course meal, her girlfriend’s 7-inch rainbow strap pummeling into her without a goddamn care in the world who might hear.
They were sent here to kill them, and they already did half the job, cleanly snapping the necks of those secret service agents standing behind that door.
Ava had proposed the idea as a joke, her gobsmacked face when she saw Beatrice pulling out their favorite strap-on would be memorialized in a museum forever.
“Fuck, baby, put that in me, fuck me hard!” Ava moans loudly, her hands gripping onto the trembling desk for dear life.
The look on Beatrice's parents’ faces when they find out will be priceless.
Ava will enjoy watching the mortification and disgust flood through their veins as she tugs Beatrice down for a deep kiss, their tongues entangled in a familiar dance that will involve more than enough pornographic swallows and whimpers to make even Satan blush like a schoolgirl.
“So good, you feel so good,” Beatrice praises, her breathing barely showing any sign of exhaustion even though she’s been drilling into Ava’s dripping pussy for almost an hour now, “You’re so beautiful. So beautiful.”
Her naked breasts bouncing in rhythm with the desk and Beatrice’s enthusiastic thrusts, Ava doesn’t bother to censor herself, continuing to spew words of encouragement and affection as the love of her life fucks her senseless on the same desk her father had signed her life away a lifetime ago.
Oh how Ava will enjoy that immensely, dangling his gravest mistake in front of him before she jabs the butcher knife into his neck and twists.
She will drag the blade down, and down, and down, till he starts to resemble the fileted bass Beatrice cooked for dinner last night. She’ll salivate at the crunching sound of his breaking spine, of his spluttering pains, and the delicious cries of Beatrice’s mother tied up right besides dead husband.
“Fuck me, baby. Fuck me good, I love you. I love you so much.” Ava practically screams in ecstasy, the wave of pleasure crashing into her the minute she feels Beatrice’s strong, loving hands coming up to grope her breasts and squeeze them, “Bea, I’m coming- I’m gonna come– Bea, Bea, Bea–”
“I’m coming too. I’m so close. I love you, Ava! I love you!”
When it’s all over and done with, the mangled corpses of all those who had wronged her Bea and so many others left to dry and marinate for the batches of vultures on their way, Ava will tug Beatrice into one last kiss and ask her to marry her.
Flash.
The cockpit of an airplane. Beatrice is greeting her passengers with the phone pressed against her cheek and Ava’s nipple in her mouth.
Flash.
The inside of a tractor looking out into a meadow of golden rice. Ava’s lips are sucking Beatrice’s cunt clean while she's on her knees and they bleed on the graveled path.
Flash.
The recording booth of their college’s radio station. Beatrice sitting in the DJ’s chair, her mic having just cut off right before Ava’s moans ricochet loudly in the room, too busy sinking her pussy down onto Beatrice’s two, three, four curling fingers to give a shit.
Flash.
The VIP bathroom of the Oscars. Does this even need a description, it's the fucking Oscars!
Everywhere. Anywhere. It's Ava and Bea.
It's Ava and Bea rushing for a rare moment alone behind the back of Ava’s husband who just went out for a smoke.
It's Ava and Bea pouring all their anger and resentment and longing into one final kiss as the sky cries above them and the palm of Beatrice’s hand clutching at her shiny and new passport.
It's Ava and Bea fumbling over their clothes to the sound of a priest chanting the words of his holiness and the only thing holy in their mind is getting to reunite after seven long cruel months of Ava dead and Bea practically comatose and frozen in grief.
Everywhere, it's Bea and Ava, it's Ava and Bea.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
Ava reaches her climax with an open-mouthed scream, her back arching up to heaven as she chases and drains every last bit of pleasure for herself.
Electric currents of her orgasm run through her body, from her brain to the tips of her toes, making her tingle and shiver.
Ava looks down, prepared to give Beatrice the sweetest, most grateful, smile she can muster.
Only for her face to flush a heat so insurmountable great writers would compare it to the surface of the sun.
Beatrice is already staring back at her, pupils glazed over, looking at Ava, all sweaty and disheveled and probably drooling a bit at the mouth, like she is wearing a piece from Victoria’s Secret with a face caked full of makeup.
“Bea?” Ava’s mouth feels dry. Her breath catches at the smitten smile Beatrice aims up at her, making her feel inexplicably shy. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Her four fingers still inside Ava’s pulsating core, Beatrice takes gentle care in sitting up, making sure nothing is moving, before leaning in and capturing Ava’s lips in a soft kiss.
Ava’s hands slither from Beatrice’s barely sweaty chest up to her face, holding her– wanting her– needing her close. She’s too busy melting into Beatrice’s embrace to notice her hair isn’t even the slightest wet.
“Jesus Bea,” Ava breathes out a content sigh when their kiss breaks with a gentle pop. She couldn't hold back her smitten smile even if she tried. “You ruined me for everyone else, you know that, right?”
Beatrice just hums, the vibration of it rattling Ava’s own ribcage. “You say that like it's a bad thing.”
“Not at all. Just, unexpected, is all.”
“Would you like to lay down, Ava?”
“No. I want to return the favor.” But she feels so tired. So sleepy.
Ava doesn't know when her eyes have closed, nor when Beatrice's fingers have slipped out of her. She only knows of the bone deep exhaustion sinking into her bloodstreams, weighing her down against the comforting mattress.
“Sleep, my gorgeous. Would you like me to hold you?”
Hmm. That does sound nice. “Okay. Raincheck?”
The last thing Ava hears is Beatrice's chuckle, feels it pressed against the back of her neck as she is pulled back into a warm, protective embrace.
“Raincheck. Sweet dreams.”
Ava nuzzles in with a yawn, clutching Beatrice’s hand to her chest.
“Nighty, Bea.”
“Good night, Ava.”
She falls asleep with a smile.
-
Ava awakes to featherlight kisses on her shoulder blade.
Her first instinct is to lay there and enjoy it, because she recognizes immediately whose lips they were, and she would wear them on her skin if she could.
“Mmmm” Ava hums, tilting her head back to expose more of her neck, her vocal cords vibrating under the gentle administration, “good morning, baby.”
Those tantalizing lips pause to smile against her skin, before continuing their thorough journey of waking Ava up with kisses.
“Dawn awaits, darling. You look absolutely ravishing in this light.”
Ava’s mouth splits into an open grin, teetering back so it meets Beatrice’s smiling one in a gentle, barely grazing the corner of her mouth, kiss.
“It’s too early for you to be all charming and smooth, Bea.” Ava finally opens her eyes, the longing sigh caught in her throat since last night expels in the morning air easily when she meets amber eyes.
Beatrice fake pouts, earning a giggle. “But you’re so beautiful. How can I let you sit there not knowing how gorgeous you are.”
Ava’s blushing cheeks bloom into erupting volcanoes, her mouth letting out a surprised squeak, as Beatrice easily flips their position, so that Ava is on her back and Beatrice hovering above her.
Ava doesn't know where to look. Bea looks handsome and majestic and she's smiling at Ava like she could fall in love with her and Ava just– she just feels so incredibly lucky to be here.
Beatrice begins to lean down the moment Ava’s mind finishes its monologue, her lips a gentle caress on Ava’s cheek. “Your face, Ava, is truly one of the most remarkable masterpieces of the Gods. You’re so beautiful, you take my breath away every time you smile at me.”
But she doesn't stop there.
Beatrice's lips move up to her eyelids, “Your eyes tell greater stories than those who've lived in darker and brighter times. I can look at you forever and through your lenses never get tired of the way I see myself reflected back at me.”
She places one singular peck on Ava’s nose, waiting for Ava to finish her giggle, before pressing them down against Ava’s lips.
“Your lips” Beatrice sounds so reverent, her warm breath tickling and incinerating at the same time, “are so soft. I can kiss you, let you suck my soul with every taste of you against me, and never once have a single regret.”
“When you said you were a writer,” Ava whimpers loudly, chasing after Beatrice’s lips long after they’re gone, “I didn't expect you to be so good with romance too.”
Beatrice hums, clearly delighted, “I’m a woman of many talents, Ava Silva. I intend to use them all on you.”
Fuck. “Baby…”
“I like that. Your voice.” Beatrice continues her administration, this time deliberately sinking her teeth into the sensitive part of Ava’s neck, where it must terribly bruise with markings of Beatrice’s passion and affection. “You always sound so pretty, but the sounds you make when you come on my fingers, or my tongue, or my strap. God, Ava, we’ve just met and you’re already haunting my every thought.”
“Bea, baby…” Ava feels like she's on fire. Like there's a supernova behind her eyelids just waiting to explode.
“Yes, darling?” Beatrice smirks against her neck. Smug bastard.
“Either you come up here and sit on my face, or I will cry.” Loudly. With snots.
Beatrice gives an obviously fake shiver, before climbing up to where Ava wants her.
Oh yeah. This is what life is all about.
-
It’s not until Ava is halfway through her shower that she realizes she’s failed to take into consideration one significant detail.
What the fuck am I going to wear?
As appealing as the idea of prancing around the streets dripping wet in a towel is, Ava doesn’t want to get arrested on a public indecency charge. Jillian would never let her live it down.
She definitely can’t wear her old clothes now. Her panties are definitely soaked beyond salvation. Her bra and her shirt are both torn to pieces by Beatrice’s saber– the hot image making Ava shiver all over again. The only survivors to this endeavor would be her suit jacket and her slacks, the former she doesn’t know how to trace back to find and the latter suffering a similar state as her panties.
What can she say, Beatrice really is a pantie soaker.
“Bea? Do you happen to know where I can find clothes to wear?” Ava asks as she steps out of the bathroom, the hot steam following and clinging onto her skin.
Beatrice, who is lounging on her bed still naked, just like how Ava had left her, turns to look at Ava and, well, gasps.
Ava doesn’t bother to hold back her giggle, knowing Beatrice is too busy following the droplets of water from her hair dripping down onto her purposely-put wet cleavage. It’s an amazing feeling being the center of Beatrice’s attention, she felt it last night and she sure feels it now.
Still needing some clothes, Ava puts an end to the ogling by putting on the best indignant expression as she could and crossing her arms over her chest, her biceps incidentally hugging her breasts close and lifting them up even higher.
“Why do you keep looking me in the eyes, Bea? My huge tits are down here.” Ava pouts, using her hands to grope and jiggle her aforementioned “huge tits”.
It works like a charm, Beatrice immediately snapping out of her daze looking like a fish out of water, only with the complexion of a cooked tomato.
“What? I wasn’t– you were– I didn’t– Ava,” Her name is spoken with so much exasperation she loves it. “You can’t just walk around looking like that and expect me not to look.”
Well that backfired. “As much as I like you flattering me and my tits, there’s still the situation at hand.”
Beatrice chuckles sheepishly, scratching at the back of her neck to express her remorse. Ava is totally not shooting lasers at her bulging bicep. No siree. “Apologies, darling. I really wasn’t listening. Would you mind repeating for me?”
Ava huffs an exasperated sigh she totally doesn’t mean, strutting back to the bed and crawling into Beatrice’s lap. The motion is so easy and familiar it almost feels like she’s done this a hundred times before. Perhaps in another life.
“I need clothes, Bea.” Ava says, lifting Beatrice’s chin up using her finger lest she gets lost in Ava’s cleavage again. “Also I’m starving.”
“Oh. Those are easily resolved.” They are? “Will you just give me one moment?”
Before Ava can nod, Beatrice is lifting Ava’s entire body up like she weighs nothing. The squeak that escapes her throat dissipates long after Beatrice has gently put Ava back down on the bed and sliding out of it.
“There should be some clothes here in the wardrobe that will fit you nicely.” Beatrice explains, opening a double-door wardrobe that Ava has somehow missed. “Would you mind if I go take a shower too?”
Ava shakes her head, sitting up criss-cross applesauce, “Of course not, Bea. Take your time. I’ll look through the wardrobe and see what I can find.”
Beatrice nods, already grabbing a shirt and wrapping a pair of slacks around her arm. “Wonderful. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Ava is shameless enough to freely admit she’s biting her lips as she watches Beatrice’s fine ass disappear into the kitchen. Hates seeing her go but loves watching her walk away or whatever.
Once the door closes shut, Ava sighs and resolutely stands up, hoping there might be a decent enough t-shirt and shorts in that wardrobe. Her expectations are low, not even knowing who previously inhabited this room.
As it turns out, her expectations can go fuck themselves, apparently.
Because in this wardrobe are her clothes.
“What the fuck…” Ava gapes, searching through the various shirts and jeans. “This is freaky.”
She feels a little less nauseous when she takes a closer look and realizes they’re not really her clothes. The faded jean jacket she picked out should have a tear in the left forearm from that time Ava tried skateboarding, but it doesn’t. The gray booty shorts in her hands should have an extra pocket that Camila sewed onto for her, but they don't. And the color of the low-cut tank top she presses against her chest should be a lot more faded after so many washes, but it isn't.
“Still, freaky as fuck.” Ava mumbles as she dresses herself, tousling up her hair so it doesn’t lay flat on her head.
Booty shorts that compliment her perky ass? Check.
Tank top that hugs her breasts and provides more than enough cleavage for Beatrice and her dead ancestors to drool over? Check.
Jean jackets that give her an effortlessly cool style point? Check.
By the time Ava finishes putting on her boots from last night, Beatrice is also exiting the bathroom.
Much to her subtle, meaning not really, disappointment, Beatrice is already dressed in a white button-up paired with a pair of black slacks that would look exactly like the one from last night if one didn’t have Ava’s eagle eyes when it comes to fashion.
Ava whistles, her eyebrows wagging when she sees she’s making Beatrice blush, “Looking good, hot stuff.”
Adorably pink-cheeked, Beatrice strides over to where Ava stands in front of the full-body mirror and wraps her arms around Ava’s waist. “Thank you, darling. You look as gorgeous as always.”
The compliment makes Ava giggle into Beatrice’s neck, the butterflies in her stomach transitioning from the Macarena to doing the Harlem Shake at the feeling of Beatrice’s lips pressing against the side of her head in a gentle kiss. “Oh stop it. You’re too sweet.”
“Only for you.” Beatrice replies, absentmindedly swaying them left and right. “Are you ready to go? We should be in time for breakfast if we hurry.”
She presses her furrowed brows into Beatrice’s cheek, “About that, you seem to know this castle pretty well.”
Beatrice gives a non-descriptive hum, “You can say that. I’ve spent a lot of my time here.”
“There’s more to it than you’re telling.” Ava pouts, only for it to melt off entirely when Beatrice turns her head and Ava is face to face with Beatrice’s intense amber eyes.
She leans in close, so close their breaths are shaking hands, “There’s always more.” and she closes the gap.
Ava lets her worries and her questions go, feeling utmostly safe and protected in Beatrice’s arms, content to keep kissing Beatrice and stay intact in her bubble.
The sentiment continues as Beatrice walks her to where breakfast is supposed to be, their hands intertwining tightly like they never want to let go. Ava is feeling giddy, evident by the skip in her step as she simultaneously drags Beatrice and lets Beatrice steer her in the right direction.
“You promise you’ll call me, Bea?” Ava had said, with a surprising amount of shyness, as she returned Beatrice’s phone back to her after inputting her number.
“Of course, Ava.” Beatrice had looked at her like she said something stupid. “I would never let you slip away from me now that I’ve found you.”
So, yeah, forgive her for acting like a schoolgirl for a minute.
The giddiness, however, isn’t enough to distract her from the fact that she hasn’t seen a single soul yet. It’s a big castle, surely there must be staff and partygoers still wandering around. But the hallways are empty, and Ava’s sharp ears can’t pick up a sound of life that isn’t hers or Beatrice’s.
"That's odd. Did everyone go home already?" Ava asks, head tilting as she looks into one corner and another.
Beatrice shakes her head, “Unlikely. Last I saw, the host’s special drink was a fan favorite. I would know better than anyone how hard that hits when it flows into your bloodstreams.”
“Really? I don’t really feel any different.” Ava purses her lips in deep thoughts, but before she can think about it too long, Beatrice’s tug at her hand brings her back to reality.
“You didn’t drink a lot, remember? When your um… (“My ex.”) yes, when your ex cornered you, you kind of dropped the flute onto the floor. I noticed it was still half full.”
“Oh, okay. You didn’t drink any?”
“I’m not much of a drinker, I’m afraid. I don’t like the way it makes me feel.” Beatrice pauses, her face suddenly contrite. “I’m sorry, I know that sounds terribly boring.”
Beatrice looks so sad and self-conscious, so unlike the Bea that so confidently took Ava against the hallway, the door, and multiple times on the bed. Ava has to fix this.
“No, Bea. It’s a completely valid reason.” Ava says, tilting Beatrice’s chin so she would look at her directly. “You didn’t even have to tell me why. You just say you don’t drink and I would have been okay. But thank you for telling me, it makes me feel very special.”
“Well, you are.” Beatrice mumbles back, cheeks once again adorably pink.
Ava has to grin, standing on her tip toe to place a kiss on said cheek. “So are you, baby. So are you.”
Beatrice doesn’t have anything else to add, aside from shooting Ava a shy smile and a kiss on their intertwined hand, so Ava forgoes asking questions. The back of her neck itches, like a sense of approval trickling down at her from somewhere.
Ava suppresses a shiver, wondering if she’ll be able to get rid of this ominous feeling once she has something in her stomach. She’s always felt a lot colder when she’s hungry. Yeah, that just might be it.
The journey to what Ava presumes to be the dining hall takes very little time. Beatrice chivalrously walks faster to open one of the double doors for Ava, stirring up the butterflies in Ava’s stomach once again.
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” Ava cheekily says, placing a gentle kiss on Beatrice’s smiling lips. “Seriously, Bea, did you go to etiquette school as a kid?”
Following swiftly after her, Beatrice merely chuckles before taking a hold of Ava’s hand again. Ava really likes that she’s found someone as tactical as she is. “You can say that. I had a very rich and extended education.”
“One day, Bea, I’ll get it all out of you.” Ava purposely makes her words sound like teasing. She really doesn’t want to pressure Beatrice to tell her more stuff than she is comfortable with. “Now, let’s go find me some grub. I am starving.”
“Good timing, because I’m just delivering the food.”
Had it not been for Beatrice readily catching her in her embrace, Ava would have flopped backwards and fallen on her head, too damn startled by Jamie’s sudden appearance from behind her.
“Jamie! Jesus!” Ava lets out several sighs of relief, feeling her heart beating too fast for a social setting. The boy merely chuckles apologetically, even if his eyes glint in pure amusement at the way Beatrice is essentially holding her up. “Can I tell your boss to put a bell on you or something? Good God.”
“I’m really sorry, Ava.” Jamie tries his best, but Ava can tell he really wants to laugh. “How about I make it up to you by giving you extra bacon? Our chef makes them very crispy.”
Ava lets out the most exaggerated thinking hum as possible, feeling Beatrice’s body shaking in quiet amusement at her back. Making a pretty girl laugh is, in fact, Ava’s favorite pastime. And for that, “You’re forgiven. They better be really good bacon, Jamie.”
“I swear on my master’s life they will be.”
Master. Huh. A little kinky but sure.
“Let’s go find our seats, darling.” Beatrice’s voice breaks Ava out of her reverie, steering them both away from the waiter and what Ava now just realizes is a cart of drinks.
“Yeah, okay, sorry I didn’t mean to get in the way of your work. See you later, Jamie!”
Quickly, before Jamie can protest no matter if he truly means it or not, Ava follows Beatrice towards the long dining table. There, she already sees a large amount of people from last night huddling around themselves in little groups.
A lot of them look really hungover, barely able to lift their heads up to make conversations. Ava quietly thanks God for not letting her drink so much. Even if it was a circumstance that she would like to avoid from repeating.
“Ava! Ava, over here!”
Following the sound, Ava’s face brightens. Her lips automatically curl up in her typical sunny smile at the sight of her best friend, who looks spectacularly chipper compared to Ava’s grimacing younger brother sitting beside her.
“Oh. You have friends waiting for you.”
Ava turns her head, curious at Beatrice’s emotionless voice. “What’s wrong, Bea? Do you not want to go meet my friends?”
The cloud on Beatrice’s face clears slightly at the offer, meaning Ava has pegged the reason for Beatrice’s sudden mood swing correctly after all.
“You… you wouldn’t mind?”
Ava makes sure her face is the epitome of fond exasperation, tugging their joined hands as she makes her point, “Of course I wouldn’t. That is, if you don’t already have someone else you would like to sit with?”
She knows Beatrice doesn’t, but Ava is still scared of the answer.
“Even if there was, there’s no one else I would love to sit with but you.”
Ava’s smile softens, “Then that’s settled. Come, I’ll introduce you to my family.”
Before she can get distracted by Beatrice’s bulging eyes, mouth stutters out “Your family–?” Ava is pulling on their joined hands and tugs her over to where Camila and Michael patiently await.
“Good morning, sunshines!”
“Morning to you too, partner. Where have you been all last night?” Camila asks, her sneaking glances at the handsome girl holding Ava’s hand not at all subtle.
“Oh, you know, here, there. Doing this and that.” Ava shrugs, a teasing smile crawling up her lips. “Speaking of the that, this is Beatrice.”
As she predicted, Michael immediately makes a face of disgust, while Camila’s eyes sparkle in clear interest. Besides her, Beatrice is blushing scarlet, murmuring “Ava.” like it’s a threat.
Ava could be into that, honestly. “Bea, this is Camila, my co-founder of Cat’s Cradle and business partner.” Camila gives a joyous wave, earning back a smaller, more timid wave of hand from Beatrice. “And that prude sitting next to her is Michael, my foster brother.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Beatrice.” Michael extends a hand over, his long limb easily reaching over both Camila and Ava.
“Pleasure.” Beatrice replies back in kind, giving Michael’s hand two distinct strong pumps. “Did you two have a pleasant stay last night?”
“Yes, actually. We were shown to the living quarters at around midnight. We meant to find you, Ava, but you weren’t picking up your phone.” Michael says the last bit with a glare. Ava is not dumb enough to not realize she’s being scolded.
“Sorry, I was preoccupied.” Ava shrugs, not feeling too sorry about it.
“Well, next time, I would love at least a text message. Mother was worried.”
Oh. Ava hadn’t thought about that. “Shit. Okay yeah, I’ll text her in a bit.”
Michael nods, “Don’t worry too much. Your phone GPS said you were still in the building, and I trust that you know to tell me or Camila if you need help.”
Ah. Well. About that– “Then you should thank Beatrice for helping save your big sister from being taken advantage of, Michael.”
All heads turn to the opposite side of the dining table, where there seats a clearly grumpy Chanel and her raggle of friends. JC, hearing the dig, snarls angrily, but says nothing.
“What? What is she talking about?” Michael whirs his head back at Ava, who raises both her hands up in surrender.
“It really wasn’t that big of a deal. JC got aggressive and in my face a little, but Bea saved me.”
It’s Camila’s turn to be angry, aiming a scathing glare to that side of the table, “JC, what the fuck.”
Apparently having had enough, JC finally snaps back, “Oh get over yourself, I was just playing. I didn’t even want to fuck you for real.”
Ava’s blood boils at the blatant dismissal, all notions of wanting to give JC the benefit of the doubts gone up in smoke.
“How can you say that when you were literally cornering me into a wall and threatening to shove your dick in my mouth for me to change my no to a yes.”
If Ava had thought Michael had looked angry before, he is a lot worse now. Her little brother practically shoots out of his seat, JC mirroring his intensity almost immediately.
“You fucking bastard!”
“She’s lying. I never said any of that.”
“How dare you. I heard you with my own ears.”
“Maybe it’s the music that got you confused, or the alcohol. You were drinking, Ava. I saw it.”
“Fuck you!”
“That’s enough!”
It’s not until Beatrice lays a calming hand on her shoulder that Ava realizes she’s stood up from her seat too. On the other side, Jamie is doing the same with JC, only he is actively pushing Ava’s ex down instead of Ava’s body simply deflating all on its own at Beatrice’s touch.
“Is it alright if I talk to him, darling?”
Ava blinks rapidly, now confused and a little scared as the red tint of Beatrice’s eyes is as clear as day. There’s no questioning it. There’s no camera lens that could have reflected in those amber eyes looking at Ava so adoringly.
What are you, Bea?
Beatrice’s eyes soften its protective gaze, reminding Ava once again that this is Beatrice.
Ava will be safe, no doubt about it.
“Do you trust me?”
Ava nods before she can comprehend the question. It just comes so naturally. “I do. I trust you, Bea.”
She’s rewarded by a gentle kiss on her palm, her hand which Beatrice hasn’t let go off the entire time.
“At exactly 9:07PM, did you or did you not approach Ava, JC?”
“So what if I did. I just wanted to talk.” JC snarls, crossing his arms over his chest.
Beatrice hums, regrettably pulling her hand out of Ava’s hold. Ava desperately tries to shove the whine creeping in her throat back down. Now is not the time to be clingy.
Standing up out of her seat with an elegance Ava’s come accustomed to associating with Beatrice, Ava’s partner continues to stare JC down as she asks him more questions.
“Did you or did you not start the conversation between the two of you by propositioning Ava?”
“It was a fucking joke, oh my God.” JC rolls his eyes. “I said Ava would know I would dominate a dick-measuring contest, because of course she would. She’s let me fuck her good with it for two years.”
Ava wants to hurl up her non-existent breakfast.
“Good is a debatable adjective that is entirely dependent on one’s interpretation but sure, let’s say you two have history.” Beatrice continues, much to the visible delight of Camila and Michael snickering. “Do you believe that your history with Ava entitles you to unlimited access to Ava’s autonomy, JC?”
“What, no. I asked nicely if she wanted to hook up and she said no. I can tell she didn’t mean it so I pushed her a bit, you know how girls love playing hard to get–”
“No, I don’t.” Beatrice’s voice turns explicitly cold here. “And didn’t you just say Ava was lying? You admit to lying about badgering Ava to have sex with you?”
JC’s face goes beet red in embarrassment, or anger, Ava can’t really tell, too busy quietly swooning at Beatrice tearing her douchebag ex in two.
“Okay! Fine! I admit, I pushed her a bit. But that’s just who Ava is. She likes to be chased, so when she says no, it clearly means a yes if you push a little further.”
Ava is crying. She doesn’t even realize it until Camila turns her face softly and wipes away her tears with a napkin.
“Is that so?” Beatrice hums. She leans forward so her hands are now placed down the table. “Jamie?”
Everything moves so fast.
One minute, Ava sees Jamie placing his hand on the back of JC’s head.
The next, Jamie is yanking JC by the hair and shoves his whole head onto the fork JC left sticking out of his bread.
“Oh my God!”
“What the fuck–”
“What did you do!”
Neither Beatrice nor Jamie seem to even remotely care about the panicked screams of the partygoers around them.
Ava can’t say she doesn’t share the same sentiment, her hand clutching Camila’s hand tightly as they watch Jamie yanks JC’s bloody, disfigured face back up.
“You came into my home and disrespected my guest. You laid your hands on a vulnerable woman and made her so uncomfortable I had to personally intervene. You then proceeded to deny all responsibility and went even further to bring the fault back on Ava as if your mutually consented relationship history gave you any right to speak about her in that derogatory way.”
Beatrice waves a hand. Ava, Camila, Michael, hell the entire room, audibly gasps.
It was like watching a body contortionist, the way JC's back suddenly folds forward like a pretzel, his mouth opened in a silent scream as his bones shift and rearrange themselves from inside his flesh.
Sitting next to him, Zori has the distinct pleasure of JC's elbow bone meeting the bridge of her nose with a sickening crack. On JC's other end, Randall doesn't even get to blink before JC's fingers thrust themselves painfully up his nostrils, blood and snots alike oozing out staining his white shirt.
Chanel is the only person spared, sitting a good three chairs away from them beside Lilith Brion.
JC, whose body now resembles that of a distorted fidget spinner, sputters through his bloody teeth as his mouth cramps up inside his jaw and his neck bent so far down his face is pressed right up against his sternum. "W-what a-are you..."
Beatrice gives a low chuckle. Jamie smiles.
"The concept of a name is beneath me. I am beyond your measly definitions of man and beast."
JC’s neck snaps, his mouth shooting out a spatter of blood and mucus.
“H-h-help m-me…” Every word that escapes him hurts him. His joints twist with every consonant, and shatter with every vowel.
“Speak up a little louder. They can’t hear you.” Jamie leans down to talk into JC’s ear, a delirious grin splitting his lips wide.
JC tries to plead for help one more time, reaching his hand out to Zori.
Zori bats his hand away without a single thought, her nose still bloody and tainting her row of pearly white teeth red.
JC turns around, clawing at the air for Randall.
Randall is dead. JC’s fingers went in so deep his fingernails tore up the back of Randall's throat and made him bleed out.
Jamie yawns, darting unamused eyes between the three of them. “This is boring. Can we move on now, Master?”
Humming, Beatrice nods.
“I suppose we should eat. But one last thing,”
Beatrice snaps her fingers, and JC's head explodes.
-