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.
-
Notes:
ava during the whole thing: is it weird that this kinda turns me on
pls direct any question you may have to god or your therapist because i sure as hell do not have an answer for any of them. bye.
ps: i am also on twitter @luthorboy
Chapter Text
“Dude, look. Isn’t that the weird kid who moved into that house a week ago?”
“That’s her. Wouldn’t talk to anyone in town. Heard she’s been born mute or something.”
“Shame. She’s cute.”
“Dude, get yourself new glasses, or better yet some actual standards.”
“Oh fuck you too.”
-
“What is the meaning of this? Why did I just check your school’s website and find out you’re not on track for valedictorian anymore?”
“It’s not my fault! That new kid is crazy smart!”
“Give it a rest, honey. You know how Asians are with their academics.”
“Unacceptable. Go up to your room and study right this minute. I do not want to see you lose to a squint-eyed brat.”
“Mom!”
-
“It’s been difficult setting up an appointment with you recently. My poor Timmy has been feeling so sick, I’ve been so worried.”
“Apologies, ma’am. There’s been a recent uptick of injured animals left for dead on our door steps. All hands had to be on board and we have been spread quite thin over the last few weeks.”
“Oh my, I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you. We’re doing our best to help rescue them all, but it’s been tough. A lot of them are domesticated cats and dogs, with the occasional crows, which is strange because these are the animals that usually don’t go missing.”
“Have you any idea what happened to them?”
“It’s terrible, ma’am. Lots of them are mutilated in one single spot, as if to serve a single purpose, then left for Death to maw on.”
“Good lord, that’s just terrible.”
“It is. Come now, let me take a look at your Timmy. Hopefully he’ll make it out of here smiling and begging for treats, unlike most furry companions we had this past week.”
-
“This is the third time this week she’s in the school’s infirmary. Don’t you think we should at least call her parents? Better yet, come visit her house?”
“I tried. But every time I called, I missed them.”
“That’s so irresponsible. I say we should pay them a visit.”
“And say what? Your kid is a prodigy but we’re concerned about how often she limps to school?”
“Well… yeah?”
“I know you’re new to this teaching gig, but we will literally never get them to talk if we do that. Calling CPS would only escalate and could lead to her getting more hurt.”
“You got a point.”
-
“Why were you just talking with the prodigy?”
“Who are you talking abo– seriously? We can’t just call people by their own names anymore?”
“Lighten up. It’s just a nickname. And don’t try to change the subject.”
“There’s no subject. I just asked her for Biology notes because I was absent last Thursday. She’s really nice, by the way, so stop talking shit about her.”
“Oh ho ho, don’t tell me you’re crushing on the prodigy.”
“For such a flattering nickname, you make it sound so discriminating. Grow up, people can talk to each other without wanting to fuck.”
-
“Dude, did you hear about what happened last night?”
“What? No? I was asleep by 8 from being run over at football practice.”
“You’re never gonna believe this. Remember that weird house that we passed through the other week?”
“The one from where you thought you heard someone screaming for help?”
“Yeah! Turns out, the prodigy, you know the weird kid in our AP Science that’s been scoring top of the class for several subjects, has been playing guinea pig for her parents’ dabbles into witchcraft.”
“What? No fucking way, you’re pulling my leg.”
“I’m telling you, it’s true. Cops found her almost dead on the operating table this morning. Her parents drew a bunch of words and symbols around her. One of my dad’s cop friends said they were chanting some dark witch’s name. Morgan something?”
“Shit, dude. Do you not know who Morgan le Fey is?”
“Uh… should I?”
“Ugh, never mind. So what happened to the kid?”
“CPS took her, of course. The cop friend said they’ll be moving her to somewhere safe and far away from her parents, which thank god. She was too cute to be possessed.”
“You and your one-track tunnel vision.”
“What? Just because she’s a little quiet and weird, doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck her.”
—
“Hey, did you hear?”
“What?”
“The prodigy is back.”
“The who?”
“You know, the prodigy? From that story we always tell the kids at campfires?”
“Holy shit, really?”
“Yeah. All grown up and everything. I just saw her walking back into her parents’ house.”
“Her parents? Were they not arrested for child endangerment and conspiracy to murder?”
“They got out 7 years ago, keep up. For good behaviors and shit, or they could have possessed the judge into letting them go early. Who knows.”
“Jesus Christ, that’s crazy.”
“I know right? Want to break into that house and see what’s up?”
“And what are you planning on doing when the prodigy catches us? Hell, when her parents catch us?”
“Ask for a picture? Ooh, I’ve been meaning to start my own true crime podcast lately. Maybe they’ll agree to be my first interview.”
“Yeah good luck with that. I’m not fucking around with the daughter nor her pair of witches parents.”
“Pussy.”
-
“Dispatch coming in. Dispatch coming in.”
“Roger, dispatch.”
“10-100. I repeat, 10-100 at the house on Condroy Street. You know which one.”
“Shit.”
“Copy that, dispatch. Permission to engage?”
“No, dispatching a Bravo team immediately. Do not engage with the suspect. I repeat, do not engage.”
“Suspect? As in, one suspect?”
“Yes, officer. This is an incredibly dangerous individual you’re about to face. Do not engage unless ordered. Copy?”
“Copy that, dispatch.”
Click.
-
Crackle.
Crackle crackle.
“Come in… come in, dispatch…”
“Officer? Officer, do you read me?”
“Major crime… ambulance… officers down…”
“Bravo Team heading your way. Stay strong, officer.”
“Fire… help…”
-
“17 officers killed in the residential attack–”
“2 civilians blown to pieces–”
“Did you hear? About the witches that got their guts scooped out–”
“Condroy House burned down? No wonder I smelled smoke–”
“Breaking news, police discovered–”
“On today’s news, we’ve got a juicy one. It involves a family of–”
-
“And the valedictorian goes to Victoria Anderson!”
“Why are you staring into space?”
“I don't know. Feels like something is supposed to be here.”
“How come there are 3 blank social security numbers in our databank?”
“Perhaps a statistical error, sir. It happens.”
“Can you make me devil’s eggs? I remember getting a tub of them every time I come over to the neighbors’ house. They were delicious.”
“But grandpa, we never had any neighbors.”
-
“I’m a monster…”
-
“You saved my life. What can I do in exchange?”
“If you have no home, then come with me. For you shall be my equal and my home your shelter.”
“I can never thank you enough. My name is Jamie. My Master, what should I call you?”
“...Beatrice. You may call me Beatrice.”
-
“Do you wish for me to erase your memory as well, Ava?”
“No.”
-
“You’ve reached the cellphone of Ava Silva. My schedule is pretty jam packed but if you leave a message and be nice about it, I might call you back. Cheerios!”
“Hello, Ava. I just wanted to give you my number. I had the most amazing night with you yesterday. Would you like to grab a cup of coffee with me tomorrow?”
-
“You’ve reached the cellphone of Ava Silva. My schedule is pretty jam packed but if you leave a message and be nice about it, I might call you back. Cheerios!”
“Hello. I’m calling to apologize for yesterday. Perhaps I was coming on too strong. It's okay if you don't reply right away, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I hope you’ll give me a chance to redeem myself. Have a lovely day, Ava.”
-
“You’ve reached the cellphone of Ava Silva. My schedule is pretty jam packed but if you leave a message and be nice about it, I might call you back. Cheerios!”
“Hello. I'm just calling to– well, check on you, I suppose. Are you okay, Ava?”
-
“You’ve reached the cellphone of Ava Silva. My schedule is pretty jam packed but if you leave a message and be nice about it, I might call you back. Cheerios!”
“Hi. Hello. Um… I’m sorry, I didn't want to bother you. I just… nothing, never mind. So sorry to bother you.”
-
“You’ve reached the cellphone of Ava Silva. My schedule is pretty jam packed but if you leave a message and be nice about it, I might call you back. Cheerios!”
-
“You’ve reached the cellphone of Ava Silva. My schedule is pretty jam packed but if you leave a message and be nice about it, I might call you back. Cheerios!”
-
“You’ve reached the cellphone of Ava Silva. My schedule is pretty jam packed but if you leave a message and be nice about it, I might call you back. Cheerios!”
-
“You’ve reached the cellphone of Ava Silva. My schedule is pretty jam packed but if you–”
Click.
“No luck?”
Beatrice shakes her head, pressing off before her call could get through to voicemails. The sight of her one-sided text thread only serves to hurt her cold, black heart more.
“I think it’s time we accept the inevitable.” Beatrice closes her eyes, preventing the hot sting of tears from overflowing. “I scared her away.”
Her handservant says nothing. She doesn’t need him to.
Beatrice remembers that morning clearly, sometimes deliberately rewinding them over and over, just so the pain would hit harder and she’d be reminded that… that… that there truly is no hope left for someone like her.
After JC and Randall, Beatrice had waved a hand to make everyone at the table fall asleep. One by one, they all fell to the beckoning of Morpheus. With Ava Silva being the only exception.
She saw it. Even if it was just for a moment, she had seen that glimmer of fear in Ava’s eyes, and it broke her heart.
Those beautiful brown eyes that once looked at her like she mattered, only to not have looked at her at all throughout the entire meal and right after.
Beatrice hadn't dared to watch, trying her damndest not to cry, but her ears are as sharp as those of a bat, and she could hear loud and clear the sound of Ava’s footsteps not even once turning back and the crackling of whatever that’s left of her own heart.
She will have time to cry later.
Arguably, preferably, she will rather not cry at all.
“Give me updates. Has the money been transferred into Miss Barton’s bank account yet?”
If her voice comes out a little broken, Jamie makes no mention of it.
“Yes, Master. An appropriate amount of $10,000 has been transferred and will arrive in Miss Barton’s cheque account by the end of today, all transaction fees on us of course. I’ve also taken the liberty to erase all her student debts as well as pay off her tuition for the rest of her last four semesters at Yale.”
“Good. It's the least she deserves.” After what JC did to her, it's the least Beatrice can do for her. “And the others?”
“The condo Mister Jones confiscated in hopes of turning into an amusement park has been sold back to its previous owner with zero interest. Tenants are receiving notices to return should they wish, with rents deducted at half price.”
Kyler Jones, whose throat resembled a tuna when Jamie cut him open, as reported.
Beatrice has always hated that man. He always acted slimy and condescending towards the female guests who would appear at his functions.
“The orphanage Mister Emerson and Miss Ophelia was running has now moved ownership. All children are accounted for and appropriate medical care has been confirmed to have been delivered to each with no exception.”
Tyler Emerson and Gina Ophelia.
In his report, Jamie had detailed him kicking them both off the roof and cackling when they landed on the knights’ spears beneath the porch.
Beatrice thinks it's a fine move.
“And Ryan Mackay?”
Jamie’s face hardens.
“The Coast Guards and the FBI are on their way. His victims will be returned home soon to their families. I will be keeping a close eye on them to make sure we help in any way we can.”
Beatrice had killed that scumbag herself, impaling the sharp blade of her rapier through the tissues of his bottom jaw then up his skull. It happened right before she met Ava, actually. She could still taste his rotten blood on her own lips when she kissed Ava against that wall.
Drowning him in one of their indoor fountains hadn't felt like justice. It didn't even make her feel good. She just hopes the vultures enjoyed their dessert.
“Good job, Jamie.”
Her handservant bows in gratitude, but says none. He doesn't like compliments, they make his bones itch.
“If that is all, I will return to my room now. The party starts at 5, correct?
“Yes, Master. I have hung your outfit of choice in your closet.” Jamie says. Pauses. Beatrice does too. She knows that means he has more to say. “Will you be alright, Master?”
Beatrice takes a breath. Then takes another.
“I don't know, Jamie. But the world moves on, and so will we.”
Beatrice leaves him there and walks away. Right as she opens the door, Jamie says, remorse in his voice, “She was charming and kind. I thought she would have been perfect for you.”
I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.
Around them, the walls twitch. I don't understand, you were hers in every life but this.
Tears sting at her eyes.
“She fools us both, Jamie. She fools us all.”
And you're wrong. I am still hers in this life. But perhaps she’ll be mine in the next.
I’m sorry too.
—
No matter how many times she’s done this, Beatrice always has a hard time avoiding getting blood all over her.
Grimacing as she wipes a particularly stubborn stain off her lips, Beatrice stares down at the pathetic chunk of meat still having the audacity to beg her for his life.
For every word that escapes him, the harder she wills the knife to push deeper into his throat.
Around them, the parking lot is deadly quiet.
Hah, deadly. Jamie would appreciate that pun.
“Please… I didn’t, I didn’t do anything wrong…” the manthing continues to beg, a remarkable feature with a knife twisting his vocal chords like a fork scooping pasta. “It was just a joke… I didn’t mean it…”
Beatrice chuckles humorlessly, red eyes wandering over to the manthing’s friend. He’s been dead long enough for a singular vulture to start munching on his flesh, mouth still hanging open and perpetually frozen in a slimy grin that will haunt him all the way till his next life.
“Was Mia laughing?” She asks, beckoning the vulture to get on with it. It squawks at her, but obeys, plunging its beak into the dead man’s eye hole. “I don’t recall. All I heard was her repeatedly telling you to stop.”
In his throat, the knife twists the same way one would a fork of fries. It plunges deep, pushes more blood to ooze out of his pouty mouth. Beatrice sneers, eventually grows tired and waves a hand.
At once, the sharp blade tears a large slice into the manthing’s neck, leaving a gaping wound that smells so good. Beatrice has better standards, however. She’ll leave him to the vultures.
They need better standards, actually.
Standing up, fixing her tie that got crooked midway, Beatrice heads back inside. The sound of vultures swarming down onto the dead bodies pushes a smile up her lips.
“Jamie?”
Beatrice’s voice doesn’t carry, but it echoes off the walls, pulsing like a soundboard.
“Yes, Master?” Jamie responds. After a second of concentrating, Beatrice realizes he’s in the kitchen.
“Are you trying to steal the cupcakes again?”
A pregnant silence. Beatrice’s mouth purses in poorly-hidden disappointment.
“I’m sorry, I was hungry” came her handservant’s remorseful voice. “Would you like some?”
Sighing, “That’d be lovely, thank you. Leave a lily on the kitchen counter before you go. God knows it’d do us both a favor if we don’t piss off Mikey anymore than she probably already is.”
Jamie audibly shivers. “She may be the love of my life, but she is damn scary sometimes.”
Beatrice chuckles. “You and your taste in women.”
Scoffing, Jamie tries to defend himself. “Excuse you, Mikey is smoking hot.”
“Especially when she holds a knife, yeah?”
Silence. Mortified. Beatrice doesn’t bother to hold back a giggle.
“With all due respect, fuck you.”
Her giggle blooms into loud laughter at the way Jamie abruptly cuts off their telepathic link. The walls around them start to pulse, as if they’re also joining in on Beatrice’s joy.
“Keep an eye out for them, please. Last time this happened, Jamie forwent his top surgery appointment because I did all their job for them.”
The walls shake, crackling a giggle of agreement. Beatrice smiles, for a house they always know how to make her feel good about herself and her humor.
Striding through the corridors of her mansion, Beatrice listens out for the different conversations happening around her.
The party, like every other, is a bait for corrupt politicians and public figures as well as any who Beatrice herself thinks needs a reality check. Still, it is a party, and humans tend to go pretty wild at this sort of function.
Unlike her most recent, the dress code has foregone elaborate costumes and disguises. Well, most of it, anyway.
All attendees are to be dressed formal and with a masquerade-mask covering at least their eyes. There’s something about anonymity, no matter how subtle, that brings out the most genuine, rawest self of a person.
Even if, in most cases she meets, not very nice.
In the grand scheme of things, this party hadn’t been too bad. If anything, it helps distract Beatrice from her ever-longingly sadness and spiraling despair.
Making a pervert spill his drink all over himself. Tripping a homophobe by his leg and letting him fall face first onto the ground. Lighting up the rumored to be Nazi fanatic’s unlit cigarette with a tall burst of flame that makes him yelp backwards into the decorative pond filled with hungry lobsters.
Getting to murder two degenerate males who couldn’t take a fucking hint was just the icing on the cake.
“Just so you know” From her side, Jamie appears, a tray of delicious-looking cupcakes in his hand. “I fell in love with Mikey because of her brain, not her face.”
Chuckling, Beatrice takes a cupcake, moaning in delight at the taste of matcha soaking her tongue. She makes sure to chew and swallow before she speaks. “So it wasn't the fact that she showed you her boobs right on the first date that got you all tingly?”
Mouth dropping in full offense, Jamie holds a hand to his heart. Had he had the same altered human biology that Beatrice does, he would have started stabbing himself in earnest.
“Slander! Blaspheming!” Jamie suddenly pauses, his smile wicked. “You’re one to talk, Master. I contest your double standards and hypocrisy.”
Beatrice narrows her eyes, cheeks aflaming, before waving her hand. Immediately poor Jamie is slammed into the wall, who is once again laughing at his expense.
The tray of cupcakes stays safely levitating in the air. Beatrice grabs another one, making a mental note to send down another bouquet of lilies for their lovely chef.
“How are things?” She asks, courteously leaving more than enough time for Jamie to get up, apologize to the house for disturbing them, and moves to stand beside her.
Out of all the reactions she’s expecting, Jamie stiffening alike a tree with silver eyes wide as saucers is not one she likes to see.
Posture stiffening, cupcake lowering, Beatrice asks. “Jamie?”
Gulping, Jamie never gulps– “Ava is here.”
Beatrice’s blood turns cold. She didn’t think its temperature could drop so much to make a difference.
“What?” She flinches at herself when Jamie does. “Sorry. Sorry. Just– This never happened before, Jamie. Not even…”
Silver eyes glint sorrowful at her as their owner shakes his head in defeat. “I don’t know, Master. I saw her in the hallway and almost screamed bloody murder.”
“Are you– are you–” Beatrice clears her throat, willing herself to snap out of it. “Are you sure it’s Ava? Were they wearing a mask and you mistook their eyes for hers?”
Even Beatrice finds her own words hard to believe, and she can tell Jamie is calling her bullshit in his head. Fuck, even the house is tooting its tongue at her.
“I’m sure, Master.” Jamie says, slowly, as if fearing a single word can send Beatrice flying into the orbits.
It had happened once, during their early days, and she would have kept on longer had she been powerful enough to hold herself in that position. Jamie barely got the trampoline before she went and put a Bea-shaped hole in their garden.
“Fine. Fine.” Beatrice grunts out, swallowing the last cupcake as one last petty revenge. “Make sure she doesn’t see me.”
“But, Master–” Jamie says, hurriedly. “Don’t you want to talk to her?”
“It’s been 2 weeks, Jamie. If she really wanted to talk to me, she would just answer my damn texts.” Realizing the vase behind Jamie is floating dangerously close to his head, Beatrice calms down and moves it back in its spot on the dresser. “I’m sorry, but the last thing I want is to see her. Please.”
Beatrice knows that’s not enough, that Jamie’s still confused, so she leaves him before he can ask more. Around her, the house trails after her– begging, inquiring, caring.
“Not now, please.” Beatrice barely gets out, eyes shamefully filled with tears. “Let’s just get this party over with.”
The house goes quiet, Jamie too. Beatrice exhales, a sigh of relief, before continuing her path.
It’s easy, after that, to focus on what she’s dedicated her whole life to.
Beatrice puts on her best smile, charming the ladies into telling her things they would never tell anyone else, swindling the men into giving up information they’d rather bring to their graves. Beatrice listens, and she takes notes.
She listens for every affliction of injustice and, in the same breath, plans for her next execution. There’s not a lot she can do for this corrupted mortal pane, even with the powers of a god. Beatrice can only hope to start something, either by accident or not, that will turn this world around on its head.
Oh she can only hope her life will be so meaningful.
“Excuse me, sir? Can you help me?”
Startled out of her spiral, Beatrice looks down. Her bruised heart throbs when she sees watery blue eyes, attached to a boy who isn’t even grown enough to reach her knees.
Kneeling, Beatrice schools her faux smile into something more genuine. “Hello, darling. May I ask what happened?”
The boy sniffles, pouty lips quivering as he tries so hard to stop crying.
“I got lost.” He sniffles again, pointing at a vague direction behind him. “My parents, I can’t find them anywhere.”
Humming, Beatrice slowly opens her arms, the boy wasting no time before diving into her embrace. “Oh poor thing, I’m sorry that happened.” Beatrice croons, stroking a hand up and down his back to calm him down.
He’s beginning to hiccup now. He must’ve been crying for a while.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Beatrice continues, slowly standing back up with the boy cradled in her arms, his head hiding in the crook of her neck. “We’ll find your parents. Do you know their names?”
Biting back a curse at the boy’s timid head shake, Beatrice moves to rock him gently, hoping the motion will help. “It’s okay. We can still find them. Do you know what they were wearing?”
“Mama wore blue and mommy wore red.” The boy manages to get out with much difficulty, then goes back to hide in Beatrice’s shirt.
That’s good enough, Beatrice tilts her head up.
Jamie responds, short and quick. They’re by the East Buffet Banquet, Master.
Beatrice sends him a telepathic thank you before tilting her head down, nose nuzzling against the boy’s fuzzy head to gain his attention. “I think I know where they are. Would you like me to take you to them?”
Watery eyes sparkle with joy at her words, the boy nods and nods,
It’s the rare moments like this that makes Beatrice wonder about a life with a child, with a romantic human companion and a life they could build together. Not that it’s in her cards, nor will it ever be, but even a devil’s spawn such as her can’t escape the curse of melancholy from time to time.
Time is fickle and evil. Beatrice learns that harder than most.
“Mommy! Daddy!”
The boy is returned to his parents in a jiffy, who, to their credits, look absolutely ashen and disheveled. Beatrice’s expectations had laid with Satan, having come across so many disinterested parents in her lifetime of throwing these shindigs, but it’s nice for once to see parents who are actually invested and interested in their child’s well-being.
Those cupcakes must’ve been dosed with something because it’s making her real mushy tonight.
That’s probably the seasonal depression talking, Jamie quips all the way from the South Wing of the castle. He’s with Mikey now, who sends Beatrice a nod and an appreciative smile.
Smartass, is all Beatrice can grumble out, kindly ignoring Jamie’s snickering and Mikey’s giggles. Where’s the other staff of the castle when she is being ganged up on.
Rolling her eyes, Beatrice turns her head around, hoping to find something else worthy of her time.
For a party mostly consisting of some of the most deplorable scumbags in the entire United States of America, everything seems pretty tamed. Beatrice and Jamie had taken care of the ones they deemed irredeemable, and perhaps that only leaves the pleasant attendees.
Still, never let it be said that they should ever let their guard down. Even the nicest person can do horrible things when the circumstance is right.
Beatrice sighs, absentmindedly taking in her guests, only to choke on air when she stumbles upon a familiar figure.
It’s her. It’s Ava.
Ava in a beautiful black dress that hugs her curves and a masquerade mask that does nothing to hide her gorgeous face and plump red lips and sculptured nose and beautiful brown eyes sharply gazing into Beatrice’s like they want to eat her alive.
Oh. Ava is looking right at her.
Shit.
Beatrice runs.
—
It works, for a while.
Losing Ava in the sea of partygoers was easy. Beatrice knows this castle better than the palms of her own hands.
There were a few close calls, where Beatrice miscalculated and almost ran straight into Ava’s eyesight. Luckily for her, Beatrice’s set of powers includes telekinesis, which she had used to manipulate other bodies into obstructing Ava’s path.
She can’t do this. Even if she wants more than anything to be by Ava’s side.
What if Ava says no?
What if Ava is so disgusted of who she truly is?
What if she has to…
Violently shaking her head, shooing all those thoughts away, Beatrice swivels around trying to find a place where she can hide out till the party ends.
How middle school of you.
Shut it, Jamie.
Hurriedly, Beatrice yanks the door open. The insides don’t look so bad. Beatrice can totally fit in there.
Once the door closes behind her, leaving Beatrice alone with her thoughts and the familiar darkness, she lets out a sigh of relief.
Apologies in advance, Master.
Before she can process the thought, the closet door bursts open. Beatrice’s superhuman reflexes are the only thing that helps her cushion the human being pushed inside before they both are squashed against the wall.
Hands fumbling, Beatrice realizes too late.
Supple smooth skin that feels like pure velvet. Vanilla-scented fragrance that immediately eases the tensions coiling inside Beatrice’s veins. Brown eyes so dark they almost look obsidian without the sun nor the moon to reflect back its light.
Ava. Fuck. “Beatrice?”
Shit. Fuck. Damn it all to hell. “H-hi?”
Beatrice tries not to take too much offense about the way Ava practically catapults herself out of Beatrice’s arms, leaving them to hover aimlessly, pathetically, in the air.
Her eyes sting. She had missed being able to hold Ava in her arms so much. She thanks Morgana that the closet itself is shrouded in darkness, and so Ava is none the wiser to any trace of Beatrice’s vulnerability.
“How did I get in here? One minute I saw you in the corridor, the next I was being yanked on by my arm.”
Oops. My bad. The walls shrug, Beatrice is not at all amused by the lack of genuine remorse in its cadence.
While Ava can’t see Beatrice, Beatrice can see Ava, beautiful short hair ruffling as she swivels her head around trying to locate the other person in the closet. The last thing Beatrice wants to do is talk to Ava, but her heart breaks at the sight of fearful confusion on Ava’s face.
And so she does what her heart tells her, and flips on the light switch.
Illuminated, Ava is even more of a devastating sight to Beatrice’s dastard piece of organ.
Ava’s little black dress hugs her curves tighter than the longing squeeze of Beatrice’s lungs. Her shoulders are left exposed thanks to the flimsy two strings that barely hold up her impressive cleavage, only further assisted by the lack of an actual neckline on the dress itself.
Beatrice tries not to stare, eyes hurriedly darting elsewhere, and when they land on stiletto heels that Beatrice almost wished would puncture her lungs, she knows she needs to curb it back altogether before she spontaneously combusts.
Is that a thing her body can do? Not like she can ever ask Morgana about it.
For an ancient corpse, that woman sure is busy.
Beatrice squeaks, “The castle–” coughs, “The castle brought you. Either that or Jamie.”
Ava’s face brightens with recognition. Beatrice’s heart hurts from envy.
“Jamie. Yes. I saw him, that’s how I knew this was your castle. You had a different address.” And a different location altogether, goes unsaid. “I cornered him, practically ordered him to tell me, but he wouldn’t. He said only you could tell me the answers I needed.”
Fuck you, Jamie.
You’re welcome, Master. Hurry up and talk already.
You set us up?
Of course I did. Don't tell me you're surprised.
Fuck you! Get us out of here!
No. Either you talk, or I deal with Ava myself. I know you love her, that is why I’m doing this. You. Need. To. Talk.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if I even want to talk to her.
You do. Don’t make this harder than it already is, and keep in mind I can always deal with her later, depending on how your talk ends. Remember, Master, my loyalty lies and dies with you.
Throughout the whole explanation and their telepathic conversation, Ava hasn’t looked up to meet her eyes once. Beatrice feels like crying all over, a pathetic and inadequate display of emotions that her birth parents would have killed her for.
Well, they would have killed her for much less, but that’s another topic for another day.
“Why did you come find me?” The words escape her with difficulty, sandpaper scratching against the walls of her throat.
Ava doesn’t answer her, not directly. She won’t look at her, either. “You keep running away from me.”
The scorn overtakes the hurt. “Doesn't feel good, does it?” In no life would Beatrice take any pleasure from seeing the way Ava flinches at her venom. “After all those weeks, why now?”
Why come back at all? Why would you continue to hurt me like this?
With a sigh that reverberates through the space of the small closet in which they stood, Ava finally turns her head to look at Beatrice.
Only for her face to blanche with utmost fury.
When Ava moves to stomp over and penetrates whatever’s left of the space between them, Beatrice starts to fear for her life. Only, she is not the target of Ava’s ire, but rather her concern.
Ava’s hand rises, almost like a slap, but instead a gentle caress of Beatrice’s bloody lips. “Who did this? Who did this to you?”
Face flushed scarlet, a fact Jamie took great pleasure in pointing out shouldn’t be biologically possible, Beatrice can only stumble as she tries to explain. “Nothing. No one. Just a piece of shit who deserved it, that's all.”
Beatrice worries that the reminder of her more feral side would once again scare Ava away, would once again leave her teary eyed and brokenhearted and all alone again.
But instead, to her ultimate shock, Ava kisses her.
She does it so abruptly Beatrice almost stumbles out of sheer shock, superhuman strength and lightning fast reflexes be damned, delicately small hands grabbing at her collar to smash their faces together.
Beatrice is a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them.
She kisses Ava back with twice the passion, thrice the longing, and infinitely more filthy. Ava is in no way prepared for the way Beatrice pushes her back and presses her length against the wall, her head cushioned protectively by one of Beatrice’s palms while the other reaches down to circle Ava’s waist.
As if electrified by her touch, Ava jolts, breaking their kiss with a desperate gasp Beatrice recognizes all too well. Beatrice doesn’t let Ava go, she can’t, merely giving her a second to inhale before going back to kissing her stupid.
The closet is in no way small, much like everything else in the castle, yet Beatrice never once feels more grateful to be pressed up against Ava’s voluptuous form like a pack of sardines. She sees it clearly in her mind, how Ava’s beautiful chest arches up to meet Beatrice’s firmer ones, how her slender fingers card through the undercuts of Beatrice’s hair and scratches deliciously against the scalp, how she wraps one thigh around Beatrice’s waist like she doesn’t want to let her go either.
Eventually, they let go. Beatrice doesn’t want to, but she recognizes Ava’s biological need to breathe and get her thundering heart to slow lest she dies of a heart attack right here right now, so she reluctantly chooses not to move in for another kiss.
Instead, Beatrice is content to just watch Ava, relish in the privilege to do so after weeks of not being able to see her. The fault lies in the girl before her be damned.
“This doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t change anything. I still don’t know if I can trust you…”
As far as the legend of Icarus goes, Beatrice feels like torpedoing herself into the sun would hurt a lot less.
The thing about holding out hopes for the goodness of it all is that the disappointment would crush you beneath the hubris of your own doing and the rest of the world.
Beatrice is hurt, so hurt, but she understands.
Some things weren’t meant to last, especially when they’re one of the best.
“Why, Beatrice? Why did you choose me?”
The question is simple, and yet so loaded. Beatrice doesn’t bother trying to hide her tears, grateful for the bastards hiding whatever expression of disgust or, worse, distrust must be there on Ava’s face.
“You know why.” Beatrice sounds sure, but also incredibly sad.
She’s had enough of this. Enough of hoping.
“I would like to take my leave now. Have a good rest of your night, Ava.”
This time, Beatrice is the one who runs.
Fools me once, shame on you. Fools me twice, shame on me. Beatrice won’t be fooled again.
—
2 weeks later
“Jamie, this is ridiculous. Is there really no local store near our home that sells this specific menstrual pad you’re asking for?”
Not like Beatrice would know. She doesn’t even get periods anymore, not since the day she woke up under Morgana’s fingers blessed with a new body and a new life.
Jamie parrots the thought, his whines of pain so loud they almost distort the six speakers of Beatrice’s newly bought phone. Its previous ancestor is now a chewing toy for their giant turtle for reasons Beatrice will choose not to disclose.
“Also, not to sound like an utter dick” you don’t have one, a quip Beatrice ignores, “Shouldn’t this be your girlfriend’s responsibility? You know, in sickness and in health, until death do you apart?”
The terrible decision is made worse by the way Jamie’s howlings get positively louder. Beatrice hurriedly switches off the speaker, grimacing apologetically at the receptionist lady glaring at her.
“Jamie, what the fuck!” Beatrice whisper-yells into her phone, only to receive another round of pitiful wailing. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll get you your preferred pads. Jesus Christ.”
“Yay!” And just like that, all traces of pain are gone from his voice. Beatrice has a weird inkling she is being pranked. “Don’t forget to pick up the flour Mikey asked for too. She’ll be pissed if she doesn’t have any to use to bake tonight.”
These two are going to give Beatrice gray hairs one of these days. “Sure, Jamie. Whatever you want.”
Another whoop echoes through, her longtime friend and loyal handservant’s joy too contagious to not make Beatrice smile too. “Love you, Master. I will go back to my Shera binge now.”
“Okay, Jamie. Tell Catra I say hi.”
“Will do!”
With a definite click, the line cuts off, leaving Beatrice to sigh tiredly in the middle of aisle 3 of a drugstore at 10 in the morning. She will do a lot, possibly everything, for that boy, but he sure gets on her nerves a lot of the time.
Is this how people feel about younger siblings, Beatrice wonders.
“Your sister is a whiner, huh.” The receptionist lady, who looks marginally calmer now, makes conversations with Beatrice as she whips out her wallet to pay for the gigantic stacks of pads she’ll have delivered over to their doorstep. “My mom used to be one of them. Fed her lots of ginger ale and eventually she accommodated.”
“My brother, actually.” Beatrice corrects absentmindedly, though she pays close attention to the way the lady’s eyes bulge. “Is that a problem?”
The lady– Kiernan, it says on her chest– flusters. “No, not at all. I apologize. That was so unprofessional of me.”
Beatrice’s lips purse, grabbing the card reader for herself. “All good. And thank you for the suggestion. I’ll have his girlfriend make some for him to try.”
Kiernan smiles, clearly overcompensating. “His girlfriend? You guys live together?”
“Why, yes.” Beatrice replies confidently, sliding the card reader back once it reads all her information. “It’s a big house. Why would I put my family through unnecessary struggles when I can just give them a roof to sleep under.”
Kiernan almost melts, much to Beatrice’s amusement. “That’s sweet. I wish my family could have done the same for me.” She sighs, all bone tired. It looks so unsettling on her youthful face. “I got myself through med school because my dad wanted me to take on his legacy and now I’m saddled with a bunch of student debts.”
Beatrice pouts. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She looks around, noting the cozy space for the very first time. “Is this your family’s shop then? How long have you guys had it?”
“A couple of generations, yeah.” Kiernan smiles with her teeth. Beatrice can tell she’s so incredibly proud. “My great grandfather was Palestinian. He managed to run away with his life and the clothes on his back. Eventually he married my great grandmother and settled here for good.”
“That’s amazing. You guys have a really good place going on.” Beatrice says, sincerity dripping.
“Thanks.” Kiernan smiles, blushing. “Your delivery is all signed, by the way. We’ll probably get them to your house by the end of today. Thank you for shopping here today, and um…” Beatrice waits patiently, hands tucked in her pockets. “I’m sorry about earlier. I have nothing but respect and love for the community, I’m just a little unprepared when it comes to the appropriate language.”
Beatrice smiles back. “It’s okay. You’re learning, and that’s something not a lot of people can proudly say they want to do.” She takes a step back, preparing to leave. “Have a good day, Kiernan. Thank you for the talk.”
She doesn’t let Kiernan have the chance to ask for her name, barely getting out her goodbye before Beatrice sprints outside. The less people that know her the better.
“Mikey’s flour. That should be easy to find.” Beatrice mumbles to herself, tapping on her phone screen to locate the nearest grocer. “Awesome. There’s one right around the block.”
Pocketing the device, Beatrice makes her way over, thinking about finally maybe taking up Mikey’s offer to learn baking. It’s been a rough 2 weeks, and the last thing Beatrice wants to do is keep crying her heart out with the castle shushing meaningless words of conciliation in her ears.
Perhaps punching some dough would be nice. Neither her nor Jamie have been feeling up to organize another gala, the former too depressed and the latter overcome with worry.
The other staff of the castle are… adjusting, Beatrice supposes. There’s been a lot of walking on eggshells, as well as awkward smiles laced with pity, all of which having the inherent side effect of putting Beatrice in a snappy mood.
She’s never rude, gosh Morgana would smite her, but she reluctantly admits the scowl she often wears borderlines sociopathically murderous and trashy soggy cat. She would feel bad if she didn’t already feel worse.
As Beatrice predicted, it takes her little to no time at all to reach a grocer. Stepping inside and hearing the automatic doors closing behind her, Beatrice takes a moment to inhale the cool breeze of the air conditioning system, before marching forward.
“Flour. Flour. Wherefore art thou?” Beatrice hums to herself, eyes darting back and forth between the signs above the aisles. “Is flour in the kitchen section or the baking section? That’s a stupid question, of course it’s in the baking section.”
Luckily, there is not a soul around to judge Beatrice nor her habit of talking to herself. She’s always found it odd that people deem that particular habit as weird or, worse, psychotic. If she can’t trust her brain to keep her company then how will she ever learn to be okay with her solitude.
“Tough luck, Beatrice.” She grumbles, sneaker-endowed feet skidding to a stop at the desired aisle. She locates the packet of flour easily, hand outreaching as her mouth keeps running on its own. “You’re gonna be alone for the rest of your life. Just like your parents always tell you, so how about you suck it up and–”
“I didn’t realize flour could have self-worth issues.”
Let it be known that Beatrice did not squeak. Nor squawk, nor squeal, nor let out any other high-pitched sound that would resemble a kettle of any kind.
Judging by the outpour of giggles from her aggregator, Beatrice is inclined to think otherwise.
“Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you so much.”
It takes her zero time to register just who is standing in front of her, looking as beautiful and adorable as the day she last saw her, and yet Beatrice still feels completely baffled. “A– Ava?”
Ava’s cheerful smile visibly dims at whatever shell-shocked expression there is on Beatrice’s face. Beatrice curses her vital organ at the way it twinges in guilt.
“Hi Beatrice.” Ava greets, all friendly smiles and shy eyes. “It’s lovely to meet you here.”
Come to think of it, “Didn’t you tell me you live on the other side of town?”
She watches curiously as a heated flush crawls up Ava’s chest to her cheeks, which brings Beatrice’s frazzled state of mind to what could only be described as a puddle, once she registers the devastatingly adorable outfit Ava currently has on.
Converse-endowed shoes with her laces tied in cute little bows, sculptured bronze biceps clutching a beige tote bag, her gorgeous body comfortably overlaid by a fashionable pair of gray-ish blue dungarees and a red tank underneath, Ava just about looks like she can wreck Beatrice’s whole life with a single word.
In one way or another, Beatrice supposes she already did.
“I… yeah, you caught me.” Ava chuckles sheepishly, a sleeveless arm raised to scratch at the back of her neck. Beatrice resolutely does not pay attention to the way her bicep bulges, nope. “A little birdie told me you’d be here today, so here I am.”
Birdie. Oh fuck that boy–
(About 17 blocks away, the sleeve of Jamie’s pajama shirt catches on fire, leaving him to squeak in fright and falls over on his ass.)
“Right.” Beatrice confirms, lips twitching at Jamie’s actually genuine sounds of pain. “Did you need something? Forgot something at the castle?”
The coldness of Beatrice’s voice must’ve caught Ava off guard, making her visibly fumble. “No. No, I just… I want to talk.”
Beatrice visibly frowns, hand accidentally gripping the bag of flour in her hand too tightly. Thankfully, it doesn’t rip. “About what?”
“About, well…” Ava fumbles some more, eventually growing tired of herself. “About what I did. I want to apologize.” Before Beatrice can get over the shock, Ava looks up and stares directly into Beatrice’s eyes. “I’m really sorry for the way I treated you. For how I ghosted you, how I cornered you and demanded information from you that I’m in no way entitled to at all.”
That’s… shit, Beatrice doesn’t know what to do in this sort of situation. No one’s ever apologized to her before.
“And I understand totally if you never want to talk to me again or God forbid never to see me at all. Just say the word and I’ll go, I promise I won’t bother you–” “I understood.”
It’s two seconds too late that Beatrice realizes that was her speaking out loud. She definitely didn’t mean to say it, but fuck it.
“It hurt when you ghosted me.” What an understatement of the century. “But it's okay. I understood. It's not like it didn't happen before.”
Ava looks like Beatrice just told her to go jump off a bridge. “What?”
Shrugging apologetically, Beatrice looks away, not willing to endure another bout of disgust or God forbid pity aimed at her. “I had to erase her memory and change the course of history, so that I wouldn’t get exposed. So I understand your fear.”
You’re not the first one to have me feel that way about myself. But I will guarantee you to be the last.
“Beatrice, I–” Ava goes to say, but pauses. Beatrice thinks she sounds a little like she’s in tears, but she doesn’t dare to look up and confirm. “May we go somewhere private, please? If you’re still willing, I want to listen to all you have to say. I’m sorry that I didn’t give you the chance before, but I want to, now.”
I mean… What could go wrong?
Jamie, you know full well it’s everything and more.
Okay, sure, but you do want to talk to her. I know you do, as much as you’ve claimed otherwise.
I’m the psychic, not you.
Jokes on you, my psychic link is exclusively you. I mean it, Master, it’ll be okay. If it comes down to it, we can make her leave. Hell, I can kill her.
No!
“No!”
Ava jumps, almost two feet in the air, Beatrice winces in self-mortification. “Sorry, sorry. That’s not towards you. That’s Jamie.”
Cupid lips open in pure surprise. “You guys can talk through your minds?”
Beatrice darts her eyes around, careful for curious ears. “Yes. Just the two of us and anyone who we let in on our psychic link.” She pauses, then nods. “You can talk to him now too, if you want.”
“Oh.” Ava blinks owlishly, clearly unprepared. “Um, hi Jamie? Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, bitch flap.” Beatrice almost chokes in shock, having absolutely no idea where Jamie even got that nickname. “Let me remind you that this is your last chance I’m willing to give. You do anything else to hurt my Master, I will make sure you live to regret it for the rest of your life, do you hear me?”
Ava winces, rubbing up her own arm in an act of self soothe. The guilt finally overcomes Beatrice, leading her to sigh. “That’s enough, Jamie. Ava, if you don’t mind, we can go back to my place to talk?”
Timidly nodding, Ava replies. “Yes, that’d be lovely.”
Lovely would be the last descriptor she uses, alas Beatrice can only sigh and beckon Ava to follow her out of the grocer, bag of flour cradled to her chest like a bulletproof vest.
Beatrice doubts it can help shield her from whatever else Ava will do to her heart.
—
“Welcome back, I suppose. You can leave your bag on that coat hanger over there. I will just take a minute to freshen up, please feel free to explore if you wish.”
Beatrice leaves before Ava can interject, her heart in her throat. She’s already beginning to regret this, splashing more than enough water to flood an entire room onto her face. Willing her body to heat up and essentially evaporate all droplets of moisture, Beatrice takes one final look in the mirror, tells herself to toughen it up, before making her way out again.
Out of all the things she expected to have caught Ava’s attention, her wardrobe sure wasn’t one of them. Alas, there she stood, gorgeous and curious brown eyes looking the piece of furniture over like she expects Aslan himself to jump out.
You can’t do that, can you? She has to ask, come on now.
The house rolls its eyes at her. No, Master. I cannot.
Good. Just checking.
Susan simp.
Shut up.
“Ava?”
Beatrice only feels slightly bad that she startles her. Call it payback.
“Bea!” Ava squeaks, clutching at her chest. The nickname is as hard hitting as a punch to the face, though it doesn’t look like Ava even realized she said it. “Gosh, you scared me.”
“My apologies.” Beatrice tries to smile, arm gesturing towards the bed. “Would you like to sit down? Or shall I grab us some chairs?”
Ava turns to follow Beatrice’s finger, face brightening at the sight of her bed, for some reason. “The bed would be okay, thank you.”
They each situate themselves on her bed differently, Beatrice notes with quiet amusement. While her butt barely grazes the fabric of her comforter, Ava takes it upon herself to, what Jamie would call, flop her whole self onto it, sprawling out like starfishes.
“You have to tell me where you bought your sheets. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this bed for weeks.”
Hmm.
You’re offended she was thinking about the sheets while you fuck her?
Again, shut up.
“I’ll have Jamie tell you the brand name.” Beatrice says, fiddling with her fingers. “Do you have questions?”
Ava sits up, cheerful smile dimmed once more. Beatrice hates that she is the cause of it, but she needs to prioritize herself first this time. “Yeah. Questions. That’s a great place to start.” Ava mumbles most of these words, but Beatrice’s keen ears catch them all. “Perhaps we can start with your closet?”
Beatrice’s brows furrow. “My wardrobe?”
“Yeah!” Ava sits up a little straighter, index finger pointing at the accursed furniture. “Was it a coincidence that it had all my clothes? Just, in a different version?”
Head swiveling, Beatrice raises an eyebrow. You can do that?
Yes, Master. I’ve always been able to do that. Oh darn.
“Apparently, yes.” Beatrice blinks, surprised at the sass. “It says it’s always been able to replicate clothes like that. I just thought it generates clothes however it wants to.”
There’s the eye roll. What’s up with her furnitures and staff giving her the attitude today.
“You paused for a minute there, like you were talking to it.” Ava points out, eyes twinkling with an inquisitive glint. “Can you do that? What else can you do?”
Now this is a more familiar question she can answer. “Yes, I can talk to pretty much everything in the castle. As for what I can do, it’s a bit of a loaded question. But I will do my best to answer you.”
As she scootches to sit on her hindlegs, a position well-trained into her since birth and had been incapable to get rid of ever since, Ava is quick to reassure her. “Again, no pressure, Bea. Tell me whatever you want, okay? I promise I won’t pressure you again.”
The smile that creeps up Beatrice’s lips this time is the first to be genuine, heart warm at the act of care. At the back of her head, she knows it won’t last. It never did.
“Well, to start off, I’m slightly stronger than the average human.” Beatrice begins, fumbling with her hands as she tries to find a way to prove it. In the end, she just curls her biceps, an action she regrets deeply with the way Ava giggles, a well-meaning glint in her eyes. “Right. Moving on. Other than that, as you already know, I am a telekinetic and a psychic. I can move things with my mind and communicate with a selected few telepathically.”
“Namely Jamie.” Ava chips in. It’s honestly rather amusing to see other people be so afraid of her loyal handservant, when in real life and especially to Beatrice, he’s about as scary as a spicey kitten. “Do your other staff get that too?”
Beatrice shakes her head. “No, only when Jamie is around to open a link. Otherwise, I talk to them via the empathic links of the castle itself.”
“Empathic links?” Ava blinks, tilting her head adorably in confusion.
“Yes. I can’t actually hear what the castle wants to say, only the vaguest images and feelings. After so many years, you start getting so used to them you can translate them into thoughts.”
“Ah, I see.” Ava nods in understanding. “Any other powers?”
“Yes, as I’ve briefly mentioned, I can also alter memories and perform minimal time travels. I can also adjust the temperatures of my own body at will.” Beatrice pauses, looking over herself as if her black button up and matching slacks will give her a hint. “That’s pretty much it, I think.”
Ava nods, leaning forward as she puts her chin in her hand, held up by her leaning against her own leg. “So you're what, a god? A witch?”
“Not a god or God, for that matter. If anything, I’m a witch’s apprentice.” Beatrice sighs, feeling the conversation heading its way into rougher territories. “Like I said before, there's really no name in history that’s ever described me accurately.” There are names I call myself in secret, like the world’s biggest piece of shit or my parents’ biggest disappointment, but you don't want to hear that. “But if it eases your mind, I wouldn’t mind being called a witch.”
“Okay. Okay. This is totally fine.”
Beatrice doesn’t bother holding back a tired sigh, reading Ava and her astonishment like a book. “If I’m making you uncomfortable–”
Ava cuts her off before she could continue, her whole body turning so she can look Beatrice directly in the eyes. “No. No, you're not. You're just, this is just… It’s a lot, Beatrice.”
“Yeah. I’m getting it.” Fuck it. Might as well say it now so she can get lost. “I am a monster, Ava. Don't torture yourself trying to think otherwise.”
Beatrice has long accepted that she was a monster, or at least there was a monster inside of her. But what no one else ever understood was that the monster was just like her. It too loved with its teeth, possessive and scared.
“I never once thought you were a monster, Beatrice.” Ava says, to Beatrice’s utter shock and disbelief. The speed of which she whips her head up would have decapitated a regular human’s head right off their neck. “Really, and I’m so sorry for having made you think that I thought of you that way. I was just really confused and scared.”
Scared. She was scared of Beatrice. “Then why did you kiss me?”
Ava’s answer takes no time at all, as if it comes to her as easy as breathing. “Because for some reasons I can't fathom, I feel utterly safe around you. Against all my knowledge and safety alarms, I can't resist you.”
Beatrice’s heart flutters, a glimmer of hope brimming behind her eyes.
Before she even knows how to process it, Ava is already keeping going. “Why didn’t you erase my memory like you did everyone else, Bea? Why was I given a choice?”
“I knew you were special.” You are. “I knew that we were meant to meet that night. Admittedly, I placed absurd expectations on you, I’m aware of that now.”
“How did you know?” Ava asks, softly, her hand reaching over to hold Beatrice's.
Perhaps that’s what gives Beatrice this absurd surge of courage, her heart and her soul depending solely on the touch she was graciously given once more.
“I know because I love you. I know it's insane, but it's true. I knew from that moment we had sex for the first time. You saw them too, the visions of our other lives. It never happened with anyone else, despite the fact that I've also had sex with them, so I know. It's hard to believe, you said it yourself, and I wouldn’t judge you if you still don’t buy into all that now.”
“But I do, Bea.” Oh she can cry. “I believe you. That night, when I came home, all I could think about when I was awake was you. And even when I slept, I had dreams about you.”
That one is new. “Dreams?”
Ava nods, unknowingly scooting over to sit closer to Beatrice. Or perhaps it’s on purpose. “Yeah. It’s just like those visions, but only one of them stood out so clearly to me.” She pauses to chuckle, beautiful brown eyes twinkling with mischief. “You were a nun.”
The thought is so comical it makes Beatrice gasp out loud. “What?”
Amused by her reaction, evidently, Ava giggles.
“Yeah. You were a nun, and I was the dead orphan that somehow got tangled in between your mess. I don't remember much, only that we fought side by side against some angel entity. There's a whole chunk missing, but I do vividly remember the way you looked at me in that dream.” Ava pauses, leaning in. “It’s the same way you look at me now.”
How do I look at you? Like you’re the only thing I could remember wanting? Like without you, life has been like a dessert without rain?
Beatrice doesn’t voice any of that, too busy trying to breathe as Ava keeps getting closer, and closer, and closer.
Finally, their lips meet in a tender kiss, and the pearly gates open once more.
Soft lips press flushed against hers, needy and desperate in ways that Beatrice has almost convinced herself no other soul could feel about her anymore. Every little nibble on her lower lip feels like an apology, and Beatrice’s tasted many things, but none are as sweet as this.
Beatrice lets her instincts take over, returning Ava’s kiss with ten times the passion and twice the affection. Ava moans into her mouth, pleased at the way Beatrice licks at her upper lip asking for entrance, granting her the access and taunts her tongue into a familiar dance with its counterpart.
Soon enough, Ava is on her back and Beatrice is atop of her. Just like the good ole times.
You mean the good ole times before she left your unlovable ass?
It’s quite hard sometimes to tell the differences between the voices in her head and the actual voices of her home. But Beatrice knows better now, that she is only ever surrounded by people and objects who love her dearly, and so anything that oozes such toxicity can only come from the stubborn remnants of her past.
Her dredged past that she now realizes has failed to tell Ava about.
“Wait. Wait.”
Immediately Ava pulls back. Beatrice shouldn’t feel as touched as she does, knowing she would have done the exact same thing. Still, it’s a different feeling to receive the same courtesy you pay others.
Disheveled hair sprawled out on the pillow, framing her beautiful face like an angel with a halo, Ava asks reverently. “What is it, Bea? Do you want to stop?”
Beatrice shakes her head. “No, it's just… I think you need to hear the full story, before we keep going. I can't– I won't–” She sniffles, to her own mortification. “It hurts me enough that you left me once, and I’m sorry for keeping repeating it, but I genuinely cannot handle giving myself to you again for you to freak out and leave once more.”
When she finally opens her eyes, to see– to check– to make sure Ava is still here, the girl who holds Beatrice’s heart in her hands is in tears.
Still, she tells Beatrice that “I get it. I get it.” All of it with the saddest and guiltiest smile Beatrice’s ever seen. All of it, while caressing Beatrice’s damp cheeks with careful hands and gentle fingers. “I’m all ears, Bea. Tell me.”
And Beatrice does. She tells Ava everything.
“When I was little, my parents moved us to a small town in America. I didn’t have an easy time making friends, so I was upset that they moved me to some place so far away. But there was nothing I could say nor do to change their mind. At first, I thought it was out of a financial motive. My family was of old money, as you would say. They were always concerned about appearances, and so I learned to never question the things they do.
But eventually, the oddity won over. I started noticing them reading books that are written in Ancient Latin. Not the type that I could understand from my tutor, but the type that you’d only see in dark magic. I chalked it up to them indulging in a new hobby, but then the animals happened.”
Beatrice trails off here, still unbearably haunted by what she’s seen. It’s only Ava’s hand diligently framing her cheek that pulls her back to reality.
“What happened, Bea?”
“They killed them. They killed them so brutally, Ava, I was so scared.” Beatrice trembles, subconsciously nuzzling into Ava’s comforting touch. “They took body parts out and dumped the rest onto the doorsteps of our local veterinarian. They made me do it. I cried for every one of them.”
“It’s okay, Bea. It’s okay. They’re in a better place now.” Ava whispers, every word genuine and laced with so much affection Beatrice almost thinks herself silly to have doubted her at all. “What happened next?”
Beatrice lets out the loudest sigh, her torso almost sinking into the bed she’s fallen down onto. Glued to her side, Ava continues her administration on her cheek, her featherlight touches grounding– tethering Beatrice to her.
“They started involving me in their practice. I don’t remember much, Jamie says it’s the trauma that suppresses most of it, but in my sleep, I dream of scalding burns and bones breaking. I don’t remember any of it, just the sensation of it all, and they wake me up screaming. But whenever Jamie asks, I can’t answer a thing.
I remember it kept going for a while, no one ever said a thing, until that day. That last day.
It was a Tuesday, I remember that because Chowder was playing on the TV. I had just finished dinner, the same porridge that I’ve learned to make for myself since I was 3, when they beckoned me into the dark room, or so they called it.
Mother pulled out a straitjacket while Father pinned me down the dining table we were just eating on. They forced it on me, and I couldn’t move no matter how hard I tried. I kept screaming, begging, for them to let me go, as they drew symbols of what I could now recognize as dark magic on me, around me. I don’t know what spell they did, all of it was gibberish to me, but eventually everything started to hurt.”
Beatrice pauses, not knowing if she should go into details. But when she looks over, Ava is still here. She’s still touching Beatrice like she wants to be here.
“You may, if you want.” Ava smiles softly, her finger catching on the corner of Beatrice’s lips. “I’m here for you. I’ll listen to everything you have to say.”
Beatrice gulps, feeling her heart flutters at such an innocent touch.
In the end, Beatrice forgoes the decision altogether. “Maybe one day.”
Ava, still smiling like Beatrice just agreed to give her the world, nods. “One day.”
Beatrice can’t help but smile back, leaning down to press a kiss on Ava’s forehead. Under her lips, Ava hums in audible delight, moving her head sideway like a cat asking for more scratches.
Later. Beatrice swears to shower her in affection later, when she can focus all her attention on her.
“By the end of it, I was about as dead as one could be.” She says this with the solemnity of someone who’s spent years learning to accept it. Ava hasn’t, and so she fails miserably in hiding her devastated gasp. “I was ready, you know. The pain was too much, and there just wasn’t anything that seemed worthy of staying.”
The grip on her shirt tightens, as if Ava is teleporting herself back in time asking for Beatrice to fight for her life. She kindly ignores the wetness she feels pouring onto her chest, as well the wetness dampening her own cheeks, to finish the story.
“But then I heard her. Morgan le Fey herself.”
At the name drop, Ava’s whole face takes itself on a journey that Beatrice would have gladly paid good money to see. “Mor– like Morgana, from the BBC show?”
Beatrice chuckles, pressing another kiss against Ava’s hairline, purely because she is too adorable not to. “Yes, but also no. You are aware the lore is based on folklore therefore there’s always an element of truth in them?”
“I mean, well–” Ava sputters, then trails off into a disbelieving laugh. “You know what, yeah. I should have expected it. I don’t know why I’m still surprised after…” At Beatrice’s eyebrow quirking up, Ava blushes. “You know what I mean.”
Smiling, Beatrice nods, letting Ava off the hook. “Morgana, or so you call her, despite having been the person my parents were trying to call and asked to grant them immortality or whatever, decided I was the better recipient of her blessings. Long story short, she set my entire house on fire, killed my parents for me, and gave me the powers that I have today.”
It’s been years since she said all of that out loud. It’s only now that she remembers just how batshit insane it all sounds.
“Jesus Bea…” Ava breathes out, exhausted on her behalf. “How the hell did I never hear about this? Or is this your time traveling power’s at fault?”
Beatrice’s cheeks flush hot at the immediate accusation. Not that it’s false, she just didn’t need Ava to call her out that quick and that factually. “I had to do what was necessary!” She squeaks, hiding her blushing face in Ava’s hair.
Beneath her, Ava is giggling like crazy. “Bea! What did you do?”
“I may have… erased our entire existence out of the history book.” Beatrice mumbles, mortified for some reason.
“Oh.” The sudden exclamation is successful in pulling Beatrice out of her hiding hole, not that Ava is even aware, distantly staring into space. “That explains a lot, mostly about that comment you made regarding the one before me.”
The one before– oh. Her.
For the first time since they arrived, the walls convulse around them, its own interpretation of a trembling anger. Beatrice can’t help but wince outwardly, always carrying the guilt even though she’s been repeatedly told it’s not her fault to have trusted who she thought was trustworthy.
“What is it?” Ava asks, following Beatrice’s gaze. “Are you talking to the castle?”
Beatrice hums to confirm, the arm wrapped around Ava’s shoulders pulling her tighter against her torso. “They don’t like it when I mention her.”
Damn right I don’t. Beatrice huffs amusedly.
“I’m imagining a chibi version of a house growing legs and stomping sulkingly.”
Disregarding the wave of indignance she feels coming, Beatrice bursts into laughter. For every convulsing of sulk, the volume of her giggles increases, eventually blending in with Ava’s own and the two of them joining into laughing hysterically against each other.
“Ava, that was awful.” Beatrice says, even though her giggles have yet to die.
Ava merely shrugs, with zero remorse nor apology in her eyes, “You laughed. That’s all I wanted and cared about.” and Beatrice melts impossibly more.
What else is she supposed to do if not leaning in and taking that smile into her mouth. Ava’s giggling as she kisses Beatrice back only makes the deal all the sweeter, burning Beatrice’s heart with human affection.
Their lips have to separate for Ava to take in oxygen, but Beatrice resolutely does not lean back further than she has to. “I told her and she betrayed me.” The words come out as easy as breathing. “She exposed me. We had to run. I had to dive into her mind and did what still disgusts me till this very day.”
Ava holds her, sunny smile turning into a sad one. “I’m sorry.” She pauses, nuzzling Beatrice’s nose. “Would you have done the same if…”
Beatrice nods, her head heavier than stone. “I wouldn't want to, please trust me, but Jamie would have made me.” Beatrice breathes heavily, swallowing back her heartbreak. “He did last time. It’s the only reason why I’m still here.”
Ava kisses her nose, then her cheeks, then her lips. “Good.” She breathes out as she ends the kiss, warm breath mixed together with steel-like protectiveness Beatrice never thought could be directed at her ever again. “You should. I would 100% deserve it. I’m so happy that you have him, have everyone, with you. It’s a miracle, honestly Bea, that you still found it in yourself to trust me after that.”
“I couldn’t help it.” I love you.
“I won’t let you down again.” One day, I can learn to love you too.
—
Notes:
i love you all. if you want more, speak it into the universe (and me, at @luthorboy on twitter). i hope this is good for now
Chapter Text
Ava spent the night.
Out of all the scenarios which she thought could happen after cornering Beatrice in that grocery store, spending the night wrapped up in her strong arms with the both of them still fully clothed was absolutely not one of them.
Truth be told, Ava fully expected to be told to fuck off right then and there in the middle of that grocery store. Or worse, outrightly murdered.
Alas, it’s Beatrice, and Ava should have given her the credits she deserves.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
Doe eyes widen in pure disbelief. Ava’s heart twists like pretzels. “You– you really mean it?”
“Of course I do.” She pouts, nudging at Beatrice's nose with her own. “I know I made mistakes, gosh I was so awful, but if you’d give me another chance, I promise I’ll do my best to make it up to you.”
“You don't have to–”
“I do, Bea. I hurt you and that's something I can never take back. Please.”
A sigh. It's fond in a way that tells Ava can get away with many other things if she pouts more. “Alright. Alright. Whatever you wish.”
Ava grins, teeth clanging against each other.
“Good. Now, to begin my long redemption arc, flip over so I can spoon you to sleep.”
“Oh. Are you– are you sure?”
Brows furrowing, Ava tugs at Beatrice’s sleeve. “Yes! I’ve been wanting to cuddle you for weeks! You’re so teddy-bear material.”
Beatrice’s eyes dart behind Ava, which she now knows to be typical of her conversing with the castle.
Definitely top 10 weirdest things Ava’s ever said.
“What is it?” She asks, lips curling up in quiet amusement as Beatrice’s kissable lips slowly morph into a pout.
“They’re laughing at me.” She says, pointing indignantly. “I’m about to be spooned to sleep and they’re laughing at me.”
At such an adorable sight, how could Ava resist laughing too?
“Ava,” Seemingly impossibly, Beatrice pouts even harder. “Don’t laugh.”
Ava, still giggling, leans up to kiss that pout off of her. “I’m sorry. You just look so cute.” She can’t feel nor see Beatrice’s cheeks flushing, a biological feat rendered impossible in her new (?) humanoid body, but she can tell something similar is happening with the way Beatrice’s pupils expand. “So? Can I?”
Suddenly, abruptly, all traits of humor are gone from her eyes. Ava can tell despite Beatrice looking away. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. You can… spoon me to sleep.”
It stumps Ava for just a second, before the realization crashes into her harder than a tidal wave. “...no one has hugged you like this in so long huh?”
Beatrice doesn't answer. She just nods, looking so terribly ashamed.
Ava wants to cry. Instead, she smiles wider, vaulting over to encircle her arms around Beatrice’s neck and pulls her down. “That's fine, I get to be the first and that's hell of a win for this gal.”
The girl Ava holds close to her chest doesn’t give a response, merely sniffling, before burrowing her head deeper into Ava’s shoulder.
And that’s how they fell asleep.
Ava makes sure to leave a note explaining that she has to leave before Beatrice awoke, making sure to convey that she will be meeting Beatrice later tonight for their date as well as give out the details which she wants Beatrice to later conform to.
First thing on that list was to sleep in for as long as she could. She even made sure to tell the castle to keep Beatrice in bed should she want to leave.
Sure, she had felt a little stupid when she first uttered the sentence “Hey house?”, but the slight rumble beneath her feet assured her that all of this had in fact been stone cold reality and not at all a fever dream.
In all fairness, she would also submit herself to the asylum had she had dreams this elaborated.
Anywhos, that’s the story of how Ava finds herself in the castle’s kitchen, kindly directed by the castle shaking certain pieces of furniture to indicate the directions she needs to take. Ava does find it quite amusing how close the distance between Beatrice’s bedroom and the kitchen, but she will keep that observation to herself lest she accidentally offends the big bad boss in the presence of her staff.
Ava’s seen several sharp-looking axes hanging on the walls and trebuchets chilling in the hallway corners. She would like to keep her head attached to her neck, thank you very much.
“Okay let’s see. White breads, eggs, some garlics just hanging out in the fridge for some reason. Milk. Chinese leftovers. Several tubs of margarine– wow someone sure likes their butter. Frozen bacon, frozen ground beef, frozen shrimps. Uncooked linguine, rigatoni.” Ava hums loudly, in deep thoughts. “Maybe I can make milk and cheese rigatoni with well-done bacon as a topping.”
“Master prefers medium-fried bacon, actually.”
Shit, is Ava’s first thought.
That’s not Jamie, is Ava’s second.
Double shit, is possibly Ava’s last.
“Heyyyy Mikey? How are you doing?”
Graciously, way kinder than Ava’s ever deserved after all the things she did, Beatrice has given her a small crash course of all her staff.
Ava’s eyes were glistening with wonder as Beatrice woven tales after tales of how her staff came to serve her, each sounding more adventurous and, admittedly, ridiculous than the last.
Her favorite is Jamie’s story, of course, Beatrice’s silver-eyed speedster and loyal handservant who would, without a shred of doubt, die for Beatrice and would come back to life over and over just so he could do it more than once.
The very definition of ride or die.
Jamie’s girlfriend is a whole different can of worms altogether.
Mikey, who Jamie timidly introduced to Beatrice only after 2 dates and was brought into the castle after her whole apartment complex burned down at the jealous hands of a jilted ex, is simultaneously Jamie’s twin flame and his oasis. If that makes sense.
Sporting wavy jet black hair and natural plump lips that would make even the highest critically acclaimed model in the world roll over in jealousy, Mikey stands there in front of Ava, arms crossed and eyebrows quirked.
Admittedly, Ava feels a little like she just got caught with her hand stuck in the cookie jar.
“What do you think you’re doing in my kitchen?” Mikey asks, her low timbre giving Ava shivers.
Jesus, why is this girl so goddamn scary. “I’m… making breakfast?”
Perfectly drawn eyebrows quirk up even higher. “Breakfast?”
It’s only years of studying under Jillian’s wing, preparing to be a ruthless and cunning businesswoman, that Ava is able to detect a small glint of approval flashing through piercing brown eyes.
So of course, Ava makes a grab onto that thing faster than anyone can blink.
“Yes!” She nods, forcing her mouth to transform into the most innocent and genuine smile she can conjure. “I have to go to my shelter soon. I left a note and told Bea I was going to make her breakfast, you know, kind of a sweet surprise before I take her out on tonight’s date?”
Pull yourself together. You’re Jillian Salvius’ daughter for fuck’s sake. Keep your chin up.
At the risk of offending the girl who might have, very likely, definitely, set her ex’s car on fire with him still inside, Ava would rather be smart about this, thank you, inner voice.
“Oh?” Mikey says, taking one step forward. Ava would take a step back had she not been sandwiched in between the two refrigerator doors. “You asked her out on a date?”
“Yep.” Ava nods. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise just yet, in case she asks you about it, so I hope you understand.” She finishes the request with a toothy smile, the one that Jillian had said could talk the most conservative of white males to put down his gun on multiple occasions.
Mikey probably does have a gun on her, let’s be real.
Surprisingly enough, Mikey visibly softens.
Even going as far as undoing the crossed arms over chest and tucking them into the pockets of her trousers, a gesture Ava easily recognizes to be mirroring Jamie’s usual stance.
What was that about being loved means being changed?
“Good.” That is all Mikey says, before abruptly dashing over and essentially trapping Ava between her body and the fridge.
“And I swear to God, Ava Silva, if you hurt my Master one more time, I will hurt you. I will hurt you so deeply you will wish you were dead, because an eternal slumber would be entirely merciful compared to what I will put you through. I will skewer your head with a toothpick, I will boil every blood in your body to the point of evaporation, I will hang you over the koi pond and let them feed on your mangled corpse till they feel sick at the taste of you. I will–”
“You are so fucking hot when you threaten people.”
In walks Jamie, who has silver eyes and jet black floppy hair and the ability to tear up the fabric of space and time if he moves fast enough, with his hands tucked in his pockets and a gait relaxing and slow.
An inappropriate and yet so incredibly appropriate response to Ava literally receiving a death threat in real time.
Like magic, Mikey transforms from menacing assassin to teenaged girl in love, smiling with her dimples as she dashes over to Jamie’s side and, much to Ava’s discomfort, presses her lips against his in a fierce kiss.
The two start feverishly making out despite knowing full well Ava is still there, Ava whose face is slowly darkening to a shade of red never before discovered by mankind, as hands start to roam and tongues start sticking out and butts are being pinched– “Okay that’s enough! Please, have mercy!”
Ava busies herself with getting out of the fridge trap, hoping to honest God the two are separated by the time she turns back around.
Luckily, the universe still loves Ava. Albeit, Mikey is looking like she is this close to putting Ava’s head in a panini press, but silver linings and all that.
“Hi. Sorry. Didn’t want to disturb you guys but amongst the many kinks I have, voyeurism is actually not one of them.”
Though maybe– shut up, brain. Not the time.
Sighing like it physically pains him, Jamie presses one surprisingly gentle kiss on Mikey’s hair. Again, like magic, the murderous girl deflates like a balloon.
Which one of them is the superpowered being who can destroy the whole world as they know it again?
“That was crude, my bad.” Jamie says, reluctantly letting his girlfriend go. Mikey stubbornly holds onto one of his arms, however, though it doesn’t look like Jamie minds it all that much. “What are you doing here, Ava?”
“Well, like I just told Mikey, I wanted to make a surprise breakfast for Bea.” Ava says, taking out a container of pre-made rigatoni from the fridge and an unopened pack of bacon from the freezer. “I have to go to work, so I need to make this quick. If you guys can help me, I’d greatly appreciate it. If not, skedaddle. You may be intimidating as fuck but I left Bea a note with a promise of breakfast when she wakes and I, for once, am sick of disappointing her, so I’m doing this whether you like it or not.”
Rigatoni, bacon, eggs, cheese, meringue, garlic, onion, some breakfast sausages.
Ava is too busy making sure she has everything she needs that she barely pays attention to her surroundings. As a result, she also fails to predict the sight that eventually greets her when she turns back.
Mouth dropping in shock, Ava can only gawk at the sight of pots and pans fully loaded onto the stove, with Mikey in her clearly beloved apron already boiling water and drizzling olive oil into a sizzling pan.
“I will take all of that, thank you.” Jamie suddenly speaks in her ears, and suddenly Ava finds herself robbed of all her trophies. “Come on. Master Bea’s breakfast won’t cook itself.”
Far from her to look a horse gift in the mouth.
After that, the joint effort makes everything easy.
Ava grew up with a Brazilian mom, and was raised by a Spanish genius, and so it was a no-brainer for her to determine that, in another life, Mikey would have been running a 5-star restaurant.
Every movement is precise and straightforward, eagle eyes keeping track of everything, and Ava means literally everything, to the point where the margin of error is barely 0.25%.
By her side, Jamie works like her shadow, at Mikey’s beck and call for even the littlest thing.
All of that, without either of them ever exchanging a single word. Ava would find it adorable had she been clueless to the fact that they can decapitate her with a single finger curl.
Eventually, the food is set up and ready.
Ava, whose contributions were quite astronomical to the whole process thank you very much, can only smile in pure pride.
A hand suddenly comes up to squeeze her shoulder. “Not bad, Silva.”
Putting all differences aside, mainly the one where Mikey was just threatening to shish kebab her with a toothpick, Ava smiles brightly.
“Thanks. You too, Mikey. Would it offend you terribly if I propose to always slip your business card in whenever I’m at functions?”
“Rich people money and more hunting opportunities? Sign me up.”
In due time, Ava will know what exactly that entails. For now, she’s happy to live in ignorant bliss for a little longer.
Washing his hands with a scrub, Jamie comes up to Ava’s other side.
“Now that you’re done, want a ride home? I’m assuming at some point you told your brother to drive home by himself last night.”
As hard as she tries, Ava can’t help but feel peeved at the invasion of privacy.
It escapes her in a hissing remark, “Did the house tell you that too?” which then leads to her getting scared for her dear life when the cheese grater almost falls on her foot.
Even without the ability to understand, that clearly sounds like a “Fuck you”
“Calm down, house. She’s just not used to all this yet.” Jamie rolls his eyes, swiftly dodging the knife almost nicking at his ear. “Fair enough. Ava, apologize. I’m going to go grab my jacket and get the car ready.”
“I– Jamie, wait!” And there he goes. Fuck him. “Okay. Fine. House, I’m sorry.”
Mikey, who is leaning against the kitchen countertop, watches her with dripping amusement.
“Not good enough. I suggest sounding more genuine.”
Offended at the implication, Ava shoves a middle finger in Mikey’s face. Uncharacteristically, and rather abruptly too, Mikey’s whole face softens.
“I get it, trust me. House wasn’t always so forgiving with me when I first arrived either.” Mikey says, gentle and comforting. Ava might be experiencing several whiplashes at once. “Like I said, be genuine. House is a better good-vibes radar than anything you can find on the market right now.”
The ladles clang loudly. Ava translates, “What she said.”
Ava sighs. “Fine.”
She turns back to the wall, head held up high.
“House, I am sorry for what I said. It was mean, and you didn’t deserve such a backhanded comment when you were only looking out for Bea. I appreciate that more than you know. Bea deserves the world, but the least and best I can give her is myself. Please give me another chance to repent for my mistakes.”
A bout of uncomfortable silence later, the ladles clang against each other, but more softly this time.
Excited, Ava turns back to Mikey, who gives her a big thumbs up.
“9/10. The castle approves and so do I.”
“Yay!” Mid-jump, Ava’s watch beeps obnoxiously. “Shit, I gotta get to work. Is Jamie–”
The entrance doors to the kitchen suddenly burst open, almost sending Ava careening into Mikey’s cackling embrace.
“Geez, Silva, trigger happy much?”
Grumbling, and definitely blushing, Ava pushes the girl away and storms out.
“Fuck you!”
“See you later!” Before Ava can turn right, Mikey shouts once more. “Turn left, you buffoon. Follow the trail of giggling paintings.”
Incredulous, Ava swivels back around, “Giggling what now– oh.” Wow, these paintings are really giggling. She’s not wearing anything inside out, is she? “Guess this is what my life’s come to. Ugh.”
“Stop shit talking and go. Don’t keep my Jamie waiting.”
“Yes, mother!”
—
Not to say that Ava stereotypes people based on their sexuality, but Jamie driving a Subaru is about as much of a surprise to her as it is to hear a CW show has once again been accused of queerbaiting.
She’ll probably never forgive the things they did to Supergirl as long as she lives. Personally, the potential of a canon Supercorp is always a noble hill to die on.
“So,” Ava starts, feeling a little claustrophobic.
Jamie hasn’t spoken a word since she first sat her butt down in the car, and while she hasn’t known the boy for long, this seems a little out of character for him.
Thus, the responsibility of breaking the ice, per se, falls onto Ava’s lap.
“I met Mikey for the first time today.”
Ava figured that would be a safe topic to start with, and low and behold, at just the mere mention of his girlfriend, Jamie’s silver eyes visibly soften. They almost look white.
Internally, Ava starts cooing.
“She’s interesting.”
Jamie chuckles. “That’s the best word you can come up with?” Ava starts, but then bulldozed over. “Mikey is everything, and that’s an unbiased fact.”
“Okay, lover boy. Don’t get all mushy on me now.” Ava teases. “Did you know she threatened to kill me?”
“And she looked hot doing it.” Jamie pauses to double check the road before he steers the car onto the highway. “How much did my Master tell you about how we met?”
“Not much, admittedly. She was very brief about Mikey very likely, possibly, setting a car on fire with her crazy ex inside. I assumed it was out of blissful ignorance.”
“Nah. Master Bea just isn’t one for gossip, which is a shame because I know she’s still hoarding some of the more fascinating stories from her previous adventures.”
Jamie pauses, again, to wave at a husky panting from the sidewalk. Ava does too, giggling when the husky starts tugging on its poor owner’s leash.
“A very long story short, we met at the local grocery store. I was minding my own business when suddenly, some man I don’t know walked over to me with a very menacing look on his face. He saw my trans and lesbian pins on my backpack, and he had several things to say about them.”
“I hope you shoved those words back up his ass, if this is going where I think it’s going.” Ava quirks an eyebrow.
“God, I wish, but no. I was young then, only been under Master’s wing for about a month or two. I had my powers, but I didn’t know how to use them without accidentally turning myself into a particle accelerator and vibrating people out of existence.” You can just casually do that? “Anyways, while I was fumbling my words and trying my best not to cry, Mikey suddenly appeared out of nowhere and pretended to be my girlfriend to scare him off.”
“Aw, that’s actually very sweet.” Ava coos, outwardly this time.
Interestingly, she thinks, Jamie’s cheeks are still capable of blushing a cute pink.
“It was, yes. I was a baby gay back then, so I was majorly flustered to have a literal goddess hanging on my arm like that.
(“I’m allowed to say that and mean it literally. I work for a god.”
“I never said otherwise, Jamie.”)
The dude started to get even meaner about me, saying shit like I was way too ugly to be dating someone as gorgeous as her. I’ll be honest with you, I still don’t think that’s false, but Mikey was absolutely livid. She gave him a verbal beating I think would have reversed the course of several world wars, before pulling me out of the cafe.”
Ava’s heart gives the slightest twinge at the easy deprecation remark. She thinks it’s not her place to comment on it, however. Maybe once they’ve grown a little bit closer. Ava’s determined to make that happen sooner or later.
“What happens next?” She asks, 100% invested now.
Curiously, the flush on Jamie’s cheeks erupts in colors. Ava grins to herself, this is going to be good.
“She asked me if I drove here. I said I walked, and then she dragged me over to her car. I thought we were just going to talk and exchange pleasantries. I was going to thank her for saving me, I was rehearsing in my head too, but then she let me press her against her car and well, you’d excuse me if my brain got a little fried and couldn't do much else but gawk.”
Ava outrightly giggles, entertained and enthralled. Jamie, who is still blushing by the way, merely chuckles before continuing.
“She said she thought I was cute, and that she wanted to makeout with me. Me, the idiot, thought she was doing this to get rid of the douchebag. So I asked her, verbatim, if he was still watching. She didn’t even look, not for a single second, before she nodded, wearing this wicked smile that turned my knees into jelly.”
“Good God, Jamie. This is a burn even slower than my longest Catradora fic up-to-date.”
“Fuck you.” Jamie shoves at her shoulder, but gently. “I was doing the best I could. Again, I was just a baby gay talking to a pretty girl.”
“Fine. Fine.” Ava rolls her eyes, jokingly rubbing at her injured shoulder. “Please tell me you didn’t leave her hanging. Also, did any of you even ask for each other’s name?”
“Well…” Jamie visibly fumbles, piquing Ava’s interest even more. “I did kiss her. We then moved into her car for more kissing. She only asked me for my name when I was two fingers deep in her on the passenger’s seat, so she would, I quote, know what name to moan out loud.”
Ava blatantly shrieks. “Holy shit, dude! You got game!”
“I totally got game.” Evidently, her excitement is infectious, making Jamie burst into giggles. “Anyways, that’s how we met. For our first date, she took me to the arcade. For our second, I came over and helped look over her computer setup.”
“Is that a code for–”
“Well, no. Though we did have sex on her desk too.”
“You dog.” Ava cackles, mentally taking notes. Sue her, she’s horny too. “You introduced Mikey to Bea after 2 dates, yeah?”
Jamie nods.
“Sounds about right. She wanted to come hangout and see my own gaming setup, an unintentional innuendo I promise you, so I asked Master Bea for permission. She was cautious, of course, but ultimately she agreed. We had dinner together and Mikey charmed Master’s pants off.”
“Not literally, I hope.” Ava grimaces, the idea of competing with someone like Mikey terrifies her to the bone.
“Of course not, Mikey had eyes for me and me only.” Jamie says, casually, easily. Ava really admires that, how confident he is in his relationship and in Mikey’s affection for him. Ava wants that for herself too. “I’m assuming you know the rest of the story?”
“Yep. You guys date. Mikey’s ex burned her house down. She burned him alive in his car. You and Bea took her in. You live happily ever after.”
Jamie laughs loudly, steering the wheel into making a right turn at a familiar T-shaped intersection. Only now does Ava notice they’re only a couple houses away from her apartment complex.
“You can say that again.” Jamie sputters into a lighthearted chuckle, making Ava’s heart grows warm. “Ava, I know it’s not a pleasant feeling having your intentions be perceived as manipulative and malicious, but I need to ask–”
“Whether I am serious about making up with Bea and the rest of you?” Jamie nods, careful to steal glances at Ava’s solemn face while paying attention to the roads ahead. “I am, Jamie, and I know I already said this to Bea, but I really am sorry. When you instructed me where to go to find Bea that night, I knew that was you giving me a second chance, and I messed that up.”
“You did. Master Bea didn’t tell me a thing, but she was mad at me for a whole week straight.”
Ava winces. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention at all.”
“It’s okay. I redeemed myself eventually.” Jamie shoots her a gentle smile as the car slowly comes to a stop. “If you’re so apologetic, how about telling me what you had in store for tonight’s date?”
She really doesn’t want to destroy the hopeful look on his face, but alas, “You and Mikey need to do better in extracting information. I’m not telling you shit.”
“Damn it, and I almost thought that’d work.” Jamie groans dramatically, banging his head against the steering wheel.
Before he can attract everyone in the condo as well as the cops’ attention, Ava hurries to put a hand in between Jamie’s head and the horn button.
“You’ll know soon enough, now please stop mutilating yourself for the cause. Blood is hard to wash off of leather.”
“The fact that you know that proves you are absolutely perfect for our family.” Jamie perks up, grinning like a maniac. Despite the morbid answer, Ava can’t help but feel her heart flutter at being included. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’m probably better off not knowing about what you do in the bedroom and anywhere else. That one time in the hall was enough.”
“It was an honor for you to see my tits, don’t even lie.” Ava scoffs, shoving her hand in his face.
Jamie squawks. “Your tits, maybe. What I didn’t want to ever see is Master Bea’s grinding filthy on a girl. She’s like a big sister to me.”
Ava laughs, opening the car door as Jamie dramatically wipes Ava’s hand germs off his face. “I’ll tell Bea you said that, lover boy. See you later.”
“Bye! And if you're going to fuck in the jacuzzi, make sure to turn on the steam machine so none of the neighbors– that's us– see you!”
Ava swears, if she gets sued with public indecency from the condo manager after this, she will wrung Jamie’s head on a hanger and bleed him dry.
Huh. What do you know. She truly does already sound like a member of the family.
—
“I know your main purpose is to get railed seventeen ways to sundays, but this outfit is absolutely not appropriate for a place that is going to be ransacked with children and Karens.”
Moaning in defeat, Ava drops the booty short shorts and corset poorly disguised as a crop top combo to the ground.
“I’m running out of ideas, Cami!” She flops pathetically down her bed, muffling her screams of despair with a pillow. “I just want to look perfect for Bea. Why is that so hard…”
“Please, Ava. That girl couldn’t take her eyes off of you the entire meal.” Camila says, with a good amount of indignance in her voice. “You can show up in a garbage bag and she would still want her mouth on your pussy in the next 5 minutes.”
Very appealing image aside, Ava is suddenly reminded that Camila’s memories were wiped clean, and that she has zero recollection of the girl Ava is getting ready to go on a date with is also the same girl who murdered 2 people in cold blood right in front of her.
Oh well. Need to know basis.
“Please don’t tell me you’re fantasizing about that right now with me still on the call.”
Oops?
“Sorry. I have no excuse, though. She’s just so…” Ava cuts herself off to let out a sigh so dreamy even the creator of the romcom genre himself would have cringe at. “I don’t want to mess this up, Camila.”
“Yes, yes. I’ve heard enough about this dreamboat’s amber eyes and her veiny hands.”
“I want to have those hands. I also want them inside me.”
“Now that’s gender, bitch.” Ava nods wisely. “We’re going off topic. Like I said, pick something else for the carnival, preferably something that will hold your tits up with actual fabrics and not flimsy strings. One nip slip and you’ll be banned for life.”
“Not to mention being put on a list.” Ava cringes, pulling herself back up. She walks over to her wardrobe, her lungs now letting out a tired sigh. “Jesus, Camila, remind me to never buy this much clothes ever again.”
“I would, but I would be lying and subjecting us both to unnecessary torture.” Touche. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Please, I’m dying over here.” Ava’s head arches back, slumping over a particularly large cardigan with a feather collar. I’m throwing that out the next chance I get.
“Grab your favorite tank-top, the black one that hugs your chest, yes, and pair it with the beige pants your mom gifted you for your birthday last year. They compliment your ass so well, I’d be jealous if we weren’t besties.”
“This implies you’re not jealous, which, how rude.” Ava jokingly accuses, hopping on her tip-toes to find the aforementioned crop-top and pants. “Should I layer anything over it?”
“Duh. You can’t just show all of your assets out in the open from the get-go. You have to tease. Wear the cream cardigan you bought last week.”
“And my trusty Converses could be the finishing touch. Camila, you are an absolute genius!”
“Tell that to the board of directors, maybe then they’ll listen to my idea.” Camila doesn’t need to verbalize her frustration, Ava can pick up on several slews of Spanish curse words just awaiting to be unleashed.
“We’ll handle that tomorrow, I promise. I just need to give the most beautiful girl in the world the best date tonight and after that, I’ll be ready to do anything.”
Camila laughs, which is exactly what Ava was going for. “Sounds good. Do you need a ride, by the way?”
“Nope, Beatrice is picking me up. She is such a gentleman.”
“We get it, gentleman on the streets and monster in the sheets. Gosh, with the way you keep repeating it, people would think you’re a monster fucker.”
I mean, well, technically Bea isn’t human… “Uh huh…”
“You’re imagining stuff again, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s my cue then. Text me if you need anything, and tell me the details when you’re back.”
“Sure will. Thank you again, Cami. I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning, bright and early. We’re going to kick some prehistoric male ass.”
“You bet. Bye bestie.”
“Bye!”
Call disconnected, Ava tosses her phone down her bed. There she stands, in front of her closet, getting ready for what she hopes will be her last first date ever, Ava takes a deep breath.
Everything is going to change tonight. She’ll make sure it does.
—
There’s a knock on her door the minute the clock strikes 5.
Ava is just about to tighten her shoe laces when Beatrice’s handsome face pops up on the monitor panel.
“Hello?” She timidly calls into the intercom, and it makes Ava wonder whether Beatrice had ever seen these sort of security contraptions after so many years of closing herself away in her 17th century castle. “Is this Ava Silva’s apartment?”
That answers her question. “Yeah, Bea! Give me a minute and I’ll buzz you in!”
“Okay.” Ava waits patiently. “Ava, I don’t know what that means.”
She keeps her laugh to herself, not wanting to make Beatrice feel self-conscious. Hurriedly, Ava finishes tying up her shoe laces and vaults over to the control panel.
“It means I’m granting you access to the apartment building.” She presses the small button in the center, emitting a small vibrating sound. “There you go. Now you just open the door and walk up to my floor.”
“Oh. I see.” Beatrice nods a couple times to herself, as if willing all the new information into her brain. “You mentioned you live on the 42nd floor, right?”
“Yep. I’m just grabbing my jacket now so hopefully I'll have turned off all my lights and grab my keys by the time you get here.”
“Oh.”
Why did that sound like it’s coming from right outside her door and not through the intercom on the ground floor?
“I apologize, Ava. I didn’t think you weren’t ready.” Oh my God she just sped up here like fucking Quicksilver. “Would you like for me to go back down?”
Chuckling, wondering what has her life come to, Ava walks over to the door, jacket and wallet be damned.
Her endeared smile only grows wider when she opens the door and reveals an adorably sheepish Beatrice, looking so incredibly handsome and dashing in her casual outfit of black ripped jeans and a white button-up shirt layering over a black turtleneck, all of which layered over by a gray long jacket.
“Hi, Bea.” Ava greets, her heart fluttering at the way Beatrice’s eyes almost light up the minute they see her. “You can come in, if you want. Though I wouldn’t mind watching you walk away either.”
It takes a while for the innuendo to register, Beatrice clearly too preoccupied with taking Ava in to actually hear anything she is saying. When it finally does, Beatrice’s cheeks bloom the cutest shade of red.
“Oh. I mean…” She fumbles, awkwardly pointing over her shoulder. “I could go?”
Ava’s grin grows freely, reaching over to grab at Beatrice’s shirt and pulls her in for a long-awaited kiss.
Beatrice returns her kiss easily, strong hands reaching up to caress Ava’s cheeks as she tilts her head for a better angle. In a move so inexplicably hot it is already making Ava wet in places she shouldn’t be (yet), Beatrice moves to press Ava against her own door, one arm slithering down to hold her waist and the other barricading the side of Ava’s head.
Jesus. Christ. I’m about to explode.
“Bea,” Ava pants, breaking away from the kiss to breathe. Beatrice graciously lets her, amber eyes following her surely-swollen lips like a moth to its flame. “Not that I’m complaining, but I really want to take you out on this date before we stumble into my bed and never leave again.”
Ava’s head, previously the size of a normal human head, grows twice its size at the way Beatrice’s jaw drops in shock. To make matters even better, amber eyes drop from her lips to her still heaving chest, and well, Ava’s never claimed herself to be nothing less than desperate for attention.
“Beatrice,” Ava calls, purely just to see Beatrice deliberately looking away as if she hasn’t been wanting to dive head first into Ava’s tits two seconds ago. “Are you okay? Do you still want to go on this date with me?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” She says, regrettably leaning back out of Ava’s personal space.
Ava doesn’t let her stray too far away, reaching over to intertwine their hands together.
“Give me just 2 minutes to grab my wallet and my jacket, okay? Then, we’re gonna go on our first date and I’m going to spoil you rotten.”
Beatrice’s smile is shy, but clearly pleased. Ava isn’t doing too bad of a job then.
“Alright, Ava. I’ll be right here waiting for you.”
You have no idea how much that means to me. “Thanks, Bea. Be right back.”
Placing one more kiss to Beatrice’s cheek, because Ava can’t resist her when she’s smiling like Ava is capable of giving her the world, Ava heads off to find her wretched wallet and cardigan.
Ava makes it back with time to spare, having only detoured for half a minute to fix her already disheveled hair in the bathroom, before sprinting back to the living room.
As promised, Beatrice is patiently waiting for her, hands tucked in her pockets as she looks around. It appears that her interest now lies in the rows of pictures of family and friends that Ava hung upon her fireplace.
There’s no melancholy in her eyes, as far as Ava can tell, but her heart breaks for Beatrice all the same.
Ava is still debating the merits of Beatrice not telling her exactly what her parents did to her throughout that time period.
On one hand, Ava is curious, spurred on by her desire to know everything about Beatrice as a person. On the other, Ava is so furious and angry on Beatrice’s behalf. As repulsed as she was about the concept of murder, Ava can’t help but think she would want to enact so much worse on the heads of Beatrice’s parents for doing something so cruel to someone so wonderful.
Knowing the exact extent of what they did to their little girl could very well drive Ava into a rage so molten no one will be able to stop her from turning this planet into a bloodbath, not even the semi-invincible figure standing in her living room nor her almost equally powerful loyal handservant.
Shaking her head to dispel vengeful thoughts, she can always stew over them later when there isn’t a gorgeous gorgeous girl waiting for her, Ava clears her throat to grab Beatrice’s attention.
Immediately, like she’s been eagerly waiting, Beatrice turns her head, a small grin sewed onto her lips. “Oh hey, you’re back.”
“I am.” Ava returns her smile, casually draping herself all over Beatrice’s arm once she’s close enough. “See anything you like?”
“It’s rather hard to pick.” Beatrice answers cheekily, pointing at a certain frame. “This one is taking the cake though. What a cute little Picasso you made with your stained overalls and rainbow hair.”
Ava laughs, remembering the day the picture was taken like it was yesterday. “You joke now, but I actually work a side gig as a freelance painter.”
Beatrice’s eyes widen with clear amazement. “Really?” Ava nods, preening. “Would you feel up to showing me one of your paintings sometime? That is, if you’re comfortable sharing.”
“Of course, Bea. I told you, I want to share everything with you from now on.”
“Thank you.” It means a lot to me that you would share with me the same way I did for you, which goes unsaid, but Ava hears it loud and clear. “Still, don’t feel obligated to share things you’re uncomfortable with, okay? Just because I dumped my entire tragic backstory in your lap doesn’t mean I’m owed back the same from you.”
Her heart melting at the display of selfless care, Ava leans down to kiss Beatrice’s shoulder. “I know, Bea. I don’t feel obligated at all to do this. I just really like you and I want to treat you right.”
“I really like you too.” Beatrice says, a little more shyly. “I’ve been so excited for this, you have no idea.”
Ava grins. “Did you like my surprise this morning?”
“I did.” Beatrice nods, eyes twinkling. “Jamie and Mikey recorded it all, I think. Apparently I looked like a goof walking into the kitchen with my jaw on the floor.”
“You know I’m totally going to ask Jamie for a copy of that, right?”
Even the eye roll she gives Ava is undeniably fond. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.” She turns her head towards the door, beckoning. “Shall we leave for our date? I’m not sure if you made reservations.”
“Oh no, we’re not going to any restaurants.” Ava says, tugging Beatrice out.
Ava can feel the confusion pouring out of her date in waves, something she can only confirm once all her lights are off and her door is locked.
“Get ready, Bea,” Ava says, purposely building up the tension even as she leads Beatrice to the elevator. She momentarily wonders if Beatrice manipulated the elevator to go 10 times faster or did she really climb the 42 flights of stairs without breaking a sweat? Either way, it’s hot as fuck. “Because I’m taking you to the carnival.”
Judging by the way Beatrice’s eyes actually light up, Ava thinks she’s doing a pretty good job.
All that’s left is to give Beatrice a date to remember. She totally got this.
—
All things considered, Ava isn’t doing too badly, or so she likes to think at least.
That twinkle of amazement hasn’t gone from Beatrice’s eyes since the moment they set foot past the ticket booth and straight into the carnival grounds. Hand still holding hers, Ava lets herself be tugged everywhere that catches Beatrice’s attention, not unlike a child who’s seeing all of this for the very first time.
Ava has asked, of course. “Have you ever been to a carnival before, Bea?” Even though in her heart, she already knows the answer.
Beatrice shakes her head, not a trace of sadness visible on her face. “My parents never took me.” Still, Ava’s heart both sinks and erupts in flame. Gosh, she hates those two monsters with everything in her. “Jamie and Mikey asked to take me once, but they are the last people I wanted to third-wheel.”
Ava cringes at the memory of this early morning in the kitchen. “...yeah I can imagine why you would think that.”
Beatrice tilts her head, evidently curious. “Hmm?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” Ava waves her hand dismissively, tugging at Beatrice’s hand. “Shall we go in deeper? I’ve been to this carnival every year since it opened, I can be your guide.”
With a smile, Beatrice accepts the request. “That sounds perfect, Ava. I can’t wait to have fun with you.”
Ava takes that as a personal challenge, and so she does her best to give Beatrice the best carnival experience a human can get.
Well, not human-human, but… okay, she really needs to get a grip on this particular part. Ava will not accept hurting Beatrice’s feelings, accidental or not, with Freudian slips or whatever stupid thing that comes out of her mouth.
The worry stays in the back of her mind, however, Ava determined to have fun and make sure her date is also having a great time.
They start off lightly, with Ava taking Beatrice to Swish Swish, a basketball game Ava remembers constantly losing to throughout the years.
Beatrice, while built like a god, turns out to have insanely horrible accuracy when not using her telekinetic powers.
While Ava has managed to put 3 balls through the loop, Beatrice has scored exactly zero, leading her to hide her face in her hands in pure embarrassment. Laughter sputters in Ava’s chest as she tries to remove Beatrice’s hands, stopping them from hiding the handsome face Ava likes so much.
They move onto Knock ‘Em Down next, where the simple objective calls for both accuracy and power as you try to knock down a pyramid of glass bottles. Valiantly, or so Ava likes to think, she lets Beatrice go first.
She does a considerably better job at this game than the last, her muscular arms coming in handy as she almost pummels the tennis ball through the pyramid of bottles and the wall behind it.
Ava fails in holding back her giggles while Beatrice does her best to placate the enraged stall owner. In the end, things are easily resolved when Beatrice promises to write a cheque that more than covers the cost. Ava can tell the owner wants to swindle her out of more money than necessary, so she quickly creates a distraction in the form of tossing a rock at the sign above their head before grabbing Beatrice’s hand and making a run for it.
For the next stop, Ava and Beatrice decide to give Hydra Head Hitters a try. Ava wants to tease Beatrice about being gentle on the mole lest history repeats itself, but finds her throat drying up at the sight of Beatrice rolling up the sleeves of her shirt, revealing muscular forearms that Ava, excuse her French, wants to lick.
The fluttering of dragon wings in Ava’s stomach, which was already put there by the same girl might she add, only intensifies further at the utterly appealing visual of Beatrice joyfully wacking her hammer down on unsuspecting moles, each hit widening her smile unlike anything Ava’s ever seen before.
Ava forewent playing when Beatrice asked. She much preferred watching.
They make a loop around the whole carnival, trying anything that catches their interest, before both agreeing to give one more game a try before they put some food in their stomach.
The game they choose is called Muscle Up, where the owner snickers mockingly before he even sees them pick up the hammer.
Ava, fueled up with righteous feminist annoyance, gives her best shot, only to seethe in defeat when the puck barely reaches the halfway point before plummeting back down. Ava’s about this close to channeling her inner Jamie, or god forbid her inner Mikey, and pummel this guy for laughing at her when she feels a strong arm curling around her waist.
The smallest of shivers escapes her lips, almost a moan, as the callusedness of Beatrice’s hand grazes at her naked skin beneath her crop-top. Ava can tell Beatrice is aware too, judging by the insufferable (and hot, so incredibly hot) smirk painted on her face and the amused twinkle in her eyes that shines brighter than the Bat Beacon.
“Wanna give it a try, sweetheart?” The owner interrupts their moment with his slimy grin, clearly too interested in the way Beatrice and Ava look at each other.
While she is bisexual, Ava really cannot blame Beatrice for the way her face immediately falls into an expression that conveys nothing but pure disgust and contempt for the male specie.
“Bring it on.” She says, taking off her long jacket and gently handing it over for Ava to hold for her.
Ava gladly does so, with the same amount of pleasure she takes in watching Beatrice’s firm ass walk away in those tight jeans and those coiling forearms flexing as Beatrice gets ready to slam that hammer down.
Gosh she can’t wait for Beatrice to slam her down too.
Preferably on a bed. Ava can adapt if it’s anywhere else too.
As the hammer is raised high, Beatrice turns her head just the slightest in Ava’s direction.
To Ava’s utter devastation, and extreme horniness, Beatrice winks.
Her lips, Ava’s eyes glued to them like a starving man seeing a hot meal for the first time in years, begin to form words. Words that are clearly meant for Ava and Ava only.
“This one is for you.” She says, before smacking the hammer down with full force.
Ava, the owner, as well as everyone around them, all watch in utter shock and amazement as the puck not only reaches the highest level and rings the bell sitting daintily up top, but proceeds to dislodge it completely from its hold and launching it a good 10 feet into the sky.
In the backdrop of Beatrice’s panty-droppping smirk and everyone’s uproaring applause, the owner is watching the bell rise steadily before plummeting to its feet, both the owner and the bell looking as pathetic as one another.
“What the fuck…” He gasps, looking at Beatrice like he’s 12 years old and just discovered Wonder Woman for the very first time.
Beatrice doesn’t even bat an eyelash at him, casually strolling over to the prize stall. Without even needing to tip-toe, she reaches for the dragon stuffie that Ava’s mentioned she really likes.
Before returning to Ava’s side, who is practically vibrating on the spot, Beatrice turns to the owner for one last time.
“And don’t mock women, sweetheart.”
When Ava finally comes back from her very vivid images of her being in that hammer’s place, she recognizes the all-too-familiar swooning sighs from next to her. Indeed, when she turns her head, Ava spots a bunch of young women her age, clutching at each other while blatantly ogling at Beatrice.
Beatrice, who is Ava’s date this evening.
Beatrice, who literally did all of that to defend Ava’s honor.
Beatrice, who is walking over right now with the stuffie that is twice the size of Ava’s entire body.
Beatrice, who should be kissed and snogged and rewarded for all her efforts.
Beatrice, who Ava should make clear that is hers and hers alone.
(In a healthy way, of course. Ava is horny, not toxic)
But Ava waits, because she is patient and she’s been waiting long enough for Beatrice to appear in her life and makes it the best life she’d have ever lived, until Beatrice finally comes close enough for Ava to take the dragon stuffie from her and puts it gently on the ground.
Ava doesn’t let the hum of confusion escaping Beatrice’s lips ring for too long before she is standing on her tip-toe to cradle Beatrice’s face and pulls her in for a passionate kiss. Around them, a mixture of aws and ews echo loudly, which only spurs Ava on even further.
But she doesn’t want to embarrass Beatrice, and she also wants to keep a little of herself away for the sake of anticipation for the events at the end of the night, thus Ava pulls back after a couple dozen seconds.
“Thank you for the dragon stuffie, Bea.” Ava whispers into Beatrice’s panting lips, delighted in the way she can feel how hot Beatrice’s ears are becoming underneath her fingertips.
Beatrice’s ears blushing is the human equivalent of becoming like a full-body kettle, so you’ll excuse Ava if her head happens to grow four times its size after this.
“Y– you’re welcome.” Beatrice sputters, her hands at Ava’s waist trembling.
The roaring dragon of jealousy inside Ava gives a pathetic whine at the gesture, making Ava feel all gooey and mushy and soft for the girl holding her like she means something to be careful about.
Ava doesn’t want them to reach that point of the night yet. Ideally, it’ll be after they have so much sex Ava will not be able to tell what planet she is living on anymore. It’s on her agenda and everything.
And so she manually switches to a smile more lighthearted and giddy, bending her knees to grab the dragon stuffie before using her other hand to wrap around Beatrice’s bicep.
“Let’s go grab some food. I think you deserve a reward for that show you put on for me.”
Beatrice’s lips curl up in the most adorably shy smile Ava’s ever seen on her. “Anything for you.”
Well, if Beatrice is going to be like that, then Ava certainly won’t mind emptying her pockets for a lot of hot dogs and pepsi.
Beatrice deserves the world. Ava can start with a mountain-pile of junk food.
—
For the sake of honesty, Ava hasn’t given too much thought about Beatrice’s inhuman side.
Sure, she is well aware of the circumstances that have led to Beatrice gaining these supernatural powers as well as an entirely different life, and she will be forever grateful to Morgana for having been merciful and kind towards someone who deserved it the most, and she is now familiar with the things Beatrice can do that sets her apart from every other human.
Wow, talk about taking “I’m not like other girls” too literally.
But, again, Ava hadn’t thought a lot about what it means to date someone who is possibly the closest personification of a god they can get in this lifetime.
The universe apparently saw that as a challenge, and so here they are.
Here being a small bench in the corner of the carnival.
Here being Ava and Beatrice casually chatting about the silliest stuff their minds can conjure as they slowly chip away at the aforementioned pile of junk food Ava bought for them.
Especially, here being Beatrice drawing Ava’s attention towards the rowdy crowd of university students about a couple feet or so from them.
Ava’s brows furrow, concentrating on eating her candy floss while subtly perking up her ears in order to catch what had previously caught Beatrice’s interest.
The group of university students consists of about 3 guys and 2 girls.
Ava looks at the girls first, immediately clocking in on their uncomfortable and anxious body language. A little worried now, Ava turns to look at the guys and immediately has to stop her eyes from rolling to the back of her head at the way all 3 of them are trying to peacock themselves.
“Should we interfere, somehow?” Ava asks, making sure her voice doesn’t carry over.
One of the guys just steps forward and he’s getting a little too close to the smaller girl for Ava’s comfort. His friends smirk wickedly as he does, completely disregarding the way both girls are telling them that they’re not interested and to please leave them alone.
Beatrice hums, seemingly assessing the situation. Ava chooses to look over the tub of cheesy taco on Beatrice’s lap, ready to hold it for if necessary.
“Ava?” She hums in question, toying with the friendship bracelet Beatrice wears on her left wrist. Apparently both Jamie and Mikey are Taylor Swift fans and have made plenty of bracelets to spare for when they went to her latest concert. Who could have ever predicted that. “Would you like to see something cool?”
Intrigued, Ava pipes her head up, a smile automatically unfurling at Beatrice’s adorable freckles being so close to her. What else is Ava to do but lean in and place a kiss on those freckles, before leaning back and inquiring again.
“What do you have in mind?”
Beatrice takes a second to smile dopily at Ava’s gesture of affection, before turning her head back to the group of students. She removes one of her hands from the taco tub, at which Ava quickly goes to help hold onto lest it slips and falls.
“Thank you, darling.” She says rather absentmindedly, too focused on the group to notice Ava’s eyes widening and cheeks blossoming in blush at the nickname. “Okay, here we go.”
Ava watches closely as Beatrice’s hand hovers in the air for a single moment. She holds her breath, eyes darting between Beatrice and the group of university students, eager for something dramatic and exciting, if Beatrice’s stories are anything to go by.
It’s a second longer before Beatrice’s hand flips outward. At the same time, one of the peacocking boys, the same one who’s been in the face of one of the girls, suddenly starts choking.
Beatrice’s hand morphs into just two fingers, snapping them downwards. The moment she does, boy no.2 suddenly finds himself without a belt, thus his pants now pulled down to his ankle, revealing a pair of bright purple boxers underneath.
Ava doesn’t get a chance to snicker for too long before she sees Beatrice’s hand moving once more, this time flying up then down in quick succession, resulting in boy no.3 having both his pants yanked down and his shirt rustled up to his neck, completely incapacitating him from doing anything.
Taking advantage of the chaos, the two girls make a quick escape, one of them looking back with pure confusion in her eyes, but also with no less amount of relief. Ava hopes they’ll get to have fun at the carnival now.
“Way to go, Bea. That was awesome.” Ava cheers quietly, still snickering as she watches the boys struggle to put their clothes back on before security can arrest them for public indecency.
Beatrice chuckles lightheartedly, putting her hand back in her lap. “I’m glad. I was a little worried you’d feel uncomfortable at me using my powers.”
Ava pouts. “I’m not uncomfortable at all, Bea.” Inside her head, a metaphorical lightbulb just flickers. “I think it’s kinda hot, actually.”
The taco so close to being put inside Beatrice’s mouth almost misses its mark entirely, its soon-to-be-consumer evidently flustered at Ava’s sudden sultry tone of voice and her hand coming up to stroke against Beatrice’s firm chest.
Jesus, what kind of workout does she do? Does she even need any?
“Re– really?” Beatrice coughs, desperately trying to regain her voice. She sounds a little like a chipmunk, Ava’s never been more endeared. “You really think so?”
Ava chuckles, leaning her chest forward. She makes sure her cleavage is in full view, but also to not topple the taco tub still on Beatrice’s lap. Ava probably wouldn’t look very sexy with cheese down her tits.
Actually maybe–
Not now.
Really?
Maybe later.
Yes!
“Well, if you’re asking me what I think,” Ava says, deliberately all husky and breathy. “I think being able to control clothes is a skill that could come in handy.”
Making sure no one is looking, god forbid, especially not a security guard, Ava moves one of Beatrice’s hands away from the taco tub and places it on her shoulder. She uses the other hand to quickly put their food to the side, not wanting it to become a cockblock.
“Can you control all sorts of clothes, Bea?” Ava asks, purposely darting her tongue out to wet her lips. Beatrice’s hand, still in hers, momentarily twitches against the fuzzy fabric of Ava’s cardigan. “Let’s say, if I tell you to take off my jacket without touching me, can you do it?”
Beatrice gulps, evidently having a hard time with choosing what to look at, Ava’s pouting lips or Ava’s arching chest.
Eventually, she decides on Ava’s eyes, swallowing back a loud gulp.
“I can do it.”
Ava smiles, a little wickedly, before leaning back on her hands. She pushes her chest out just a bit more, her panties getting wet at the raw look of hunger and desire in Beatrice's eyes.
“Whenever you're ready.” Ava says, a little tauntingly.
Beatrice seems perfectly up to the challenge, if the way she squares her broad shoulders and amber eyes flashing red anything to go by.
With peak interest, Ava makes notes of the way Beatrice doesn't have to use her hands this time, the shorter distance apparently meaning less amount of focus required.
Ava gets startled out of her thoughts when she feels the lapels of her cardigan smoothly slipping off her shoulders, in the exact same way she would undress herself whenever she's alone.
Nipples a little hard, Ava struggles to laugh through her heavy breathing.
“Impressive, Beatrice. I should have never doubted you.”
Throughout the whole night, Ava’s seen a catalogue of Beatrice's various smiles.
There's the smile she wears when she first sees Ava at her door, delighted in its innocence and happiness of just being able to spend time with Ava.
There's the smile that escapes her unbound when Ava makes a pun so terrible it makes Beatrice choke on her soda.
There's the smile that stretches her mouth wide when they dance together in the courtyard of the carnival, where buskers of various ethnic backgrounds take turns in giving them all the performance of their lives.
This smile that she's giving Ava right now is one that Ava would like to see more, prideful and assured and looking like she is congratulating herself on knowing how to please Ava properly.
Naturally, Ava has to step up the game a little.
“I bet you can't remove my bra from under my top.”
Hook, line, and sinker.
Though it's not like Beatrice hasn't been hooked on Ava’s charm since their very first night anyway.
“W– what?” Beatrice sputters, cheeks pink. Ava’s eyes widen at the sight, knowing this is the equivalent of Ava lighting up like a firehouse siren. “Are you sure? Right here?”
Ava shrugs. “No one has walked by in forever.” She quirks an eyebrow, deliberately teasing. “Or are you just not that confident in yourself, Bea? Thought you said you wanted to make me feel good.”
Ava relishes in the silence, knowing she won. She, of course, checks to make sure there's not even a speck of discomfort in Beatrice's amber eyes. She’d shut it all down in a second if there was.
The night is long. They can still walk around some more and just hold hands like teenagers before going home.
Ava meant it when she said she was in this for the long haul. She won't foolishly let Beatrice go ever again.
Her train of thoughts, once again, is interrupted by the odd sensation of her bra wiggling from inside her top.
Breath hitching, Ava finds herself difficult to breathe as she stares into Beatrice’s red glowing eyes, the superpowered being intensely focused on getting control of Ava’s bra first and foremost.
To do that, she must unclapse it. Ava doesn't bother to contain her moan when she feels the latch opening and the straps loosening around her torso.
Slowly, agonizingly, Beatrice’s head starts to move, telepathically commanding the bra to slither out from its hiding place. Ava’s nipples, already hard and practically begging to be sucked by Beatrice’s talented mouth, scrape against the fabric as the bra is slowly slipping off of Ava’s torso.
“Oh fuck…” Ava moans again, arching her chest out even more.
When it finally reaches the hem of Ava’s top, she barely needs to wiggle to let it out of its confinement, Beatrice's eyes blowing wide like saucers at the bright red color of her lingerie.
Ava’s smirk only grows more evil as she speaks again. “My panties are of matching color, by the way. Just to let you know.”
“Ava…”
Gosh she loves the way Beatrice says her name like that, all breathless and needy.
Then, in a plot twist she couldn't predict even at her most creative, Ava feels the fabric of her top stretched tight against her hard nipples and pinches.
“Fuck fuck, Bea,” Ava whimpers, eyes widening even more when she feels an invisible force poking at her panties, right where she needs it– needs her– the most. “God, that's so fucking hot…”
“Are you satisfied, Ava? Do you like me touching you like this?” It’s Beatrice's turn to smirk as she leans closer to Ava, their faces only a huff of breath apart. “Already so desperate, how would you fare if I were to touch you with my actual fingers?”
The taunting is accompanied with another pinch of her nipple and her panties pushing up against her clit and—
That's it.
Ava’s had enough.
“You get me to your car right now, Beatrice, or I swear to God I will make Satan look like a 1960s housewife welcoming you to the neighborhood with lemon squares.”
Being nerdy isn’t going to get you laid, Ava, Jesus Christ.
Jokes on her inner voice, because the reference flies over Beatrice’s head with the speed of a man-eating seagull, leaving behind gaping lips and amber eyes so dilated with lust they almost look black.
Quickly, almost too quickly, the two of them work together to pick up all the garbage and dispose of it at the nearest bin. Once that is done, Ava starts tugging on Beatrice’s sleeve with one hand, the other cradling the dragon stuffie to her chest.
(She named him Harold. Beatrice didn’t recognize this reference either, only smiling softly at Ava and said it was an adorable name. Ava can’t believe she’s going to fall in love with this clueless dork.
Because she will. There’s no doubt about that.)
Beatrice lets herself be dragged, dutifully being the compass to Ava’s accelerator pedal. She almost wishes Beatrice has Jamie’s super speed, so that they can be in the goddamn car already, but the occasional looking back into eager amber eyes and her adorable dimpled smile makes Ava feel like the anticipation is worth it.
It is, the universe proves to her, when Ava finds herself pressed against the car door, Beatrice seemingly too impatient to wait to finally get her lips on Ava’s again.
Ava isn’t complaining, not one bit, standing taller on her tip-toes so she can pull Beatrice closer. Ava’s hands grip tight on the collar of her jacket, while her lips are fiercely battling against Beatrice’s in a semi-playful game of tug of war.
Beatrice wins, however, because she cheats and wills the car door to open, sending Ava sprawling into the front seat.
“Wow, Bea–” Ava squawks, feeling the clutch digging into her back.
“Sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”
Quicker than Ava can blink, she suddenly finds herself yanked back up and deposited neatly into Beatrice’s lap, who has somehow slithered into the car and closed the door. When she’s less occupied, Ava will have to ask whether Beatrice is sure Jamie is the only one who possesses super speed in their household.
Alas, now is not the time to think about him nor anyone else.
“Fuck, I’m okay. You’re just so hot I couldn’t help myself from falling for you.”
The words escape Ava’s lips mostly as a joke, a pun, to lighten up the atmosphere. But the way Beatrice’s amber eyes absolutely ignite a flame-like spark, it makes Ava want to genuinely mean it.
“You’re incredible. I feel so lucky being able to hold you like this.”
A moan and a sob simultaneously catch in Ava’s throat, her senses too overstimulated to know which one to let out when Beatrice presses such a heart-wrenching confession into the slope of Ava’s neck. She places several wet kisses there, going up and up till she reaches Ava’s earlobe and tugs.
“Bea,” That’s all Ava can say, hips already beginning to move against Beatrice’s slacks. “Bea, please. Bea…”
Beatrice hums, feverish lips beginning to apply more pressure, adding in the scraping of her pointy teeth against Ava’s pulse points. Ava moans uncontrollably at the sucking sensation, frantically grabbing at the overhead handle to balance herself.
“What do you need, darling?” Beatrice rasps, smiling into Ava’s skin when she hears Ava’s moans crescendo at the wetness of her tongue. “Tell me. I want to make you feel good.”
“Bea, please. I can’t, I’m so wet, I need you inside me now.”
“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll make you feel good. I’ll fuck you so good, I promise.” Beatrice hushes, pulling Ava’s head down to connect their lips in a feverish kiss. “May I unbutton your pants, Ava?”
“Yes, yes please… I know you can do it without your hands. Do it like that.”
At the blatant approval and appreciation for her powers, Beatrice lets out the smallest whimper, reverberating across Ava’s collarbone. The task is done in a blink of an eye, Ava physically feeling the buttons of her pants unclasping themselves.
Their heavy breathings in just the past 5 minutes have been enough to fog up the windows, which is a good thing because Ava is done being patient, practically yanking at Beatrice’s hand and shoving it in her pants.
“Ava– Ava–” Beatrice pants into her mouth, her kissing a little less methodical at the discovery of just how soaking wet Ava is down there. “You’re so– you’re already–”
“All for you, Bea.” Ava smiles, holding Beatrice’s cheeks in her palms. “All of me is for you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for being so stupid. I should have let you love me sooner.”
“You’re here. You’re here and that’s all that matters to me.” Beatrice says, her voice choking up like she’s on the verge of tears. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me another chance. Thank you for staying.”
Ava is too busy moaning at the feeling of Beatrice’s two fingers sliding inside her to reply, but she hopes the sound of her moans, of her pussy clenching down onto Beatrice’s fingers, of her lips babbling Beatrice’s name over and over and over is enough for now.
“Like that, just like that–” Ava’s moans turn into whines, yanking on Beatrice’s hair as the long and strong digits begin to move faster and deeper and one of Beatrice’s thumbs is circling her clit in synchronized rhythm with her every thrust. “Fuck, Bea, I’m so close, I’m already so close–”
Not just her own thighs slamming down onto Beatrice’s hips and fingers, Ava can also hear the squeaky sound of the car bouncing at the force of Ava’s bounces. Her brain is too flooded with dopamine to take a second look, but Ava knows what this looks like, and a small part of her hopes someone is going to see and they’re going to witness firsthand at just how much Beatrice loves her, at just how well Beatrice takes care of her, at–
“Fuck, I’m coming! I’m coming!”
Stars burst behind Ava’s eyelids, her hips continuing to move gently as she rides the high of her orgasm. Beneath her, Beatrice’s fingers haven’t quite stilled, but they have begun to move slower in anticipation of catching Ava should she need it.
“Fuck, Bea, that was amazing…” Ava pants, finally opening her eyes.
Ava’s heart almost falls out of her chest and straight into the shute that is her digestive system, because what the fuck is she supposed to do when a girl this beautiful is looking at her like she’s so special.
What’s so special about Ava anyway. What did she even do to deserve Beatrice.
“Gosh, you’re so beautiful.” This is the best Ava can do, pulling Beatrice back in for another kiss, moaning at the way Beatrice’s fingers jolt in surprise and hit her sensitive spots. “Fuck, you’re still inside me, you’re still–”
“Ava, I can… I can drive this car without– oh God…” Beatrice has to pause, processing the shock of Ava practically shoving her tongue down her throat. “I can drive this car home without looking. May I?”
As good of an idea that is, Ava’s entire body goes cold. “No.” She blanches at the coldness of her voice, breaking their kiss to apologize. “No, I mean– God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it like that–”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Beatrice assures her, dilated amber eyes still having plenty of room for the affection she holds for Ava. “I’m sorry if I said something wrong. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, I promise.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” Fuck. Ava had hoped she won’t have to go into this until at least their 3rd official date. It’s not really a bad thing though. If Beatrice was courageous enough to come out to her about her powers and her circumstances, then Ava sure as hell could muster up just about half of that to tell her about– “My mom died in a car crash when I was 7.”
That… could have gone out better. Ava bites back a wince, might as well bite the bullet now too.
“Ava, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry for even suggesting that. I would never put your life in danger like that, please believe me.”
Oh shit, that wasn’t what Ava was expecting. “Hey, it’s okay. I wasn’t blaming you at all. I just, well,” Ava visibly fumbles, not knowing how to salvage this.
Luckily, Beatrice does, using her other hand to cradle Ava’s cheek.
“You don’t have to explain further. I understand.” She pauses, biting down on her lower lip. It’s terribly distracting and even more terribly inappropriate for the conversation topic at hand. “Would you still want to go to my place? Not just for sex, if you don’t want, I have a lot of streaming platforms that Jamie installed for me. We can just watch movies and eat snacks.”
Beatrice twists her head around, eyes lighting up at whatever she just found.
“Here. We can even cuddle with Harold.” She says, making the dragon stuffie levitate in the air, as if Ava won’t be able to see him lying there in the backseat. “Anything you want. How about it, sweetheart?”
Ava can’t even tell whether it’s the dripping care in Beatrice’s eyes, the way her hand is absentmindedly stroking Ava’s cheek, or the adorable nickname that got her giggling like a giddy schoolgirl.
It’s time. It’s come faster than Ava’s expected, and it’s definitely too fast even for a sapphic’s standard, but Ava knows this deep in her heart to be true.
“I love you.” Ava says, cutting Beatrice’s source of oxygen right off. She tries to hold back her giggle, her tears, at the way Beatrice’s eyes turn completely owlish. “I love you. I feel it now too. I love you, Beatrice.”
“Really?” Beatrice asks, unafraid to show her tears of elation, tears of relief, and tears of disbelief. She even sits up higher, pulling Ava with her. “You mean it? You love me?”
Ava nods, a tear drop or two escaping without her consent. “I do. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”
In return, Beatrice gives her a smile so bright Ava thinks she can outwin the sun itself.
“Ava Silva, I would have waited a thousand years and more just for you to look at me. To have you love me the same way I love you, I would have waited forever and a day.”
As touching as it sounds, Ava has kept Beatrice waiting long enough.
She’s going to love her the way she deserves, and that starts now.
—
The journey from the carnival back to the castle is, admittedly, as slow as snail at first.
Ava takes just half a minute to feel her heart bursting in appreciation for Beatrice, who is even driving 10 miles below the limit just to make sure Ava is safe and unscathed, before outrightly telling Beatrice to please go faster so Ava can have her own way with Beatrice too.
Her date, biologically incapable of blushing, begins to glow. Both their eyes widen like saucers at the new feat, Beatrice fixated on her hand, intertwined with Ava in between their seats, bathing the car interior in a shade of gold not unlike the sun.
It’s about a minute or two after that the glow starts to dim, Ava thinks Beatrice’s twinkling eyes is enough light for them anyway.
“What was that?” Ava asks, giddily curious.
“I’m… not sure. This hasn’t happened before.” Beatrice answers, her voice taking on a higher pitch that Ava assumes to be genuine, child-like excitement. Ava wonders if she gets to sound like that often, what with the way her parents treated her. “I don’t feel anything different.”
Swallowing back a question that could make the vibe plummet to oblivion, Ava hums, turning Beatrice’s hand still held in hers left and right. “You don’t feel any different either.”
They agree to let the question hang in the air as well as the blanket of comfortable silence cascade upon them, knowing very well beneath it are the bodies of anticipation just wiggling to be let out from under the covers.
Ava is perfectly content to just hold Beatrice’s hand and relish in the feeling of being newly in love. Beatrice is too, if the way she keeps stealing glances at Ava despite being oh-so careful in her driving is anything to go by, beautiful lips, swollen and bruised with traces of Ava’s hard work all over, curling up in a smile so smitten it should be written in Sappho’s history book.
They reach the castle with a soft squeak of Beatrice’s tires, Ava giggling at how Beatrice winces at the shrieking sound piercing through their silence.
“Quite eager, aren’t you.” Ava teases, unlocking the door by herself.
She steps out of the vehicle, taking a moment to appreciate the cool October air on her skin. It’s when she feels a certain poking at her shirt that Ava notices.
“We forgot my bra at the carnival.”
Immediately, without even a half second in between, Ava hears a loud crash.
Swiveling around to check, Ava can only wince in sympathy when she sees Beatrice rubbing the side of her head as well as the dented roof of her car.
“Oops?” Ava shrugs cutely, hoping to not get scolded. It’s not like she did it on purpose, though she sure loves the sight of a flustered Beatrice.
Wait a minute. “Bea, you’re blushing.”
“What–” Hand moving from her head to her cheek, Beatrice gasps. “I’m blushing. It feels hot. Do I look hot?”
“I mean, well…” Ava trails off, giggling at the faux scolding look she receives. “I can’t really tell from here, but it seems so.”
Ava watches quietly as Beatrice takes a moment to process, before shrugging. “Oh well. I have better things to do than to worry about that.”
Eyebrows raised up to her hairline, Ava takes one step backward, then two, then three.
“Bold words for someone who can’t catch me.”
As soon as the last word comes out of Ava’s mouth, she runs, heading straight for the entrance door that’s immediately opened for her. Picking up on the sound of stomping feet, Ava quickly looks for help.
“House! Please get me to Bea’s room now!” She yells, her feet carrying her through the expansive hallway.
For a moment, Ava is afraid the castle won’t help her, too distrustful of this new person who had even wronged their master once before. It’s only when Ava sees the castle jingling a painting at one intersection and then a vase at the next that she realizes she has an ally by her side.
Well, three, she supposes. Ava is sure Jamie and Mikey are around here somewhere as well, watching over them just in case.
“Thank you, house! I owe you one!”
The mirror Ava’s just sprinted by glows an ominous shade of gold, which Ava will take as a “You’re welcome.”
Ava makes it to a familiar set of doors just in time, feeling strong arms wrapping her waist the minute she pushes the door open.
“Bea!” Her giggles echo loudly from the hallway into the room, not really trying to escape arms she will kill to fall asleep every night and wake up in every morning. “Okay, okay, you got me! Put me down!”
For once, Beatrice doesn’t do what Ava tells her.
Instead of putting her down on her feet, Beatrice proceeds to flip Ava like a pancake in midair and then pins her back onto the door. Ava doesn’t even feel her head smacking against the wooden surface, all thanks to one of Beatrice’s hands quickly coming up to cushion her, before feeling her lips be captured in a passionate kiss.
Beneath her thigh, Beatrice’s hand tightens its grip, holding Ava up higher as they continue to kiss against her bedroom door.
Her earlier orgasm hasn’t helped take the edges off even a little, Ava quickly feeling the familiar build-up of pleasure coiling inside of her, begging to be let out.
“Bea, your thigh, put your– oh God!” Ava’s vision momentarily turns white, engulfed by the sudden feeling of Beatrice’s firm thigh pushing up to her crotch. It feels so good, though, so good, she needs more, she needs so much more. “Fuck, fuck me right here, Bea. I want you to fuck me against this door.”
Beatrice huffs out a laugh. “Just like the good old times, huh?” She teases, as she rolls her thigh and tightens her grip on Ava’s hips, easily pulling Ava back and forth.
White visions turn to stars, Ava frantically grappling onto Beatrice’s shoulders as she grinds down on Beatrice’s leg, feeling the muscles tense against her clit and rubbing and rubbing and–
“FUCK!”
It’s not a moan of pleasure, per se, because Beatrice took her thigh away right when Ava was about to dive over the edge. A whine escapes Ava unbridled, her disheveled hair and swollen lips probably making her look a mess.
And yet, Beatrice still looks at her like– “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I just had to say that.”
Ava’s pout only deepens. “You had to stop from giving me an orgasm to say that?” She pauses, thinks over what she wants to say next. “I mean, thank you, but I would rather you fuck me good and hard and then whisper all those sweet words in my ears later.”
Beatrice’s smile morphs into a smirk. “Fuck you good and hard, huh?” Ava’s mouth drops open in a gasp, completely taken aback by the way Beatrice shoves her hand inside her pants once again. “As you wish, darling. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll fuck you so good you can’t walk.”
Promises, promises. Although, it’s not like Beatrice doesn’t ever fulfill her promises.
Ava barely gets a second to process the majestic painting that makes up of Beatrice’s confident smile and the gorgeous romantic lighting of her room before strong and long fingers are pushing into her once again and– “Fuck, baby, that’s it, that’s it, harder please– faster– harder–”
The nickname only serves to spur Beatrice on even further, talented mouth moving to swallow Ava’s clothed breast while her fingers work on fucking into Ava and her absolutely dripping cunt.
These pants and panties are definitely going into the trash after this. Ava can’t even find it in herself to be disgruntled.
“Feel so good, so warm, so wet around me,” Beatrice continues to pour her praise even as her mouth is damn occupied with playing with Ava’s breast. Without a bra getting in her way, Beatrice’s teeth munching on the fabric of the shirt to then pull Ava’s whole breast with her, gosh this woman is going to be the death of her and her vagina, Ava’s convinced. “Your nipple feels hard under my teeth. Would it look all perky and adorable for me if I lift up your shirt, darling?”
“Bea, please, please I can’t, just take it all off please–”
Wish granted.
One moment Ava is arching her back to the heaven, riding her orgasm like she would ride a cowboy, the next all of her clothes are gone.
“Wow, you’re sure efficient…” Ava sputters out an incredulous laugh, her eyebrows wagging at the way Beatrice isn’t even trying to hide her ogling of Ava’s bare tits. “You want to put me on your bed so I can pose all pretty for you, baby?”
Beatrice almost swoons, but she does what Ava asks, slowly moving them towards the king-sized bed. Ava doesn’t let her go too far without pulling her back in for a languid kiss, their tongues dancing together like old friends and older lovers, before she feels herself laid on her back.
Her hair sprawled out everywhere on the pillow, Ava tries her best to hold back a giggle at the way Beatrice is downright gawking at Ava’s naked form.
“You can do more than just watch, you know.” Ava teases, deliberately spreading her legs but slowly, slowly, making sure she has every last drop of Beatrice’s attention.
It feels good, it feels empowering, it feels like she’s standing on the highest mountain and about to fall.
She curls a finger, laying back on the fluffy pillow. “Well? Are you going to come touch me or do you really just want to watch?”
At the teasing drag of her finger creeping down and down, Beatrice snaps out of her daze.
It’s Ava’s turn to gawk, as Beatrice takes to undressing herself. She starts with the gray long jacket, tossing it carelessly across the room, and yet it still lands neatly on the coat hanger. Next is the black button-up shirt, each button is undone with a meticulousness and fineness of someone who knows her body and knows how to use it well.
Ava’s throat bops dryly at the attractive way Beatrice shrugs out of her shirt, biting on her lower lip when wet hands, still-wet-with-her-cum hands, come to yank the turtleneck underneath off of her torso and– hello abs.
“Fuck, Bea, I want to fuck myself on your abs…” Ava breathes out, almost hypnotized by the way firm abdominal muscles constrict and expand in rhythm with Beatrice’s breathing.
Ava is so distracted by the sight that she misses out on Beatrice undressing the rest of her. It’s only when Beatrice starts crawling up on the bed that Ava notices the vast expanse of skin afforded to her, futilely stopping herself from moaning outright in animalistic desire.
“Bea, you’re so beautiful…” Ava pants, equally in awe and in love.
Beatrice, who smiles as she leans down, pressing their bare chests flushed against each other, licks at Ava’s gaping mouth. “Not as beautiful as you.” She says, then steals away any objection Ava might have with a deep kiss.
For the record, Ava would object if she could, but she would much rather show appreciation for Beatrice’s mouth-watering body in some other way.
Ava starts off with broad shoulders, hands sprawling out to grope at the muscles underneath. Then she moves down, to the gorgeous slope of Beatrice’s back, where she can feel every breath Beatrice takes as she kisses Ava like her whole life depends on it, like this is what she was born to do, and this is what she was going to do on the day she dies too.
How is she so lucky, to be granted a life so unconditional and without an expiration date too.
The thought circles in her mind even as Ava continues her exploration, finally coming down to where she’s been dying to since she first saw Beatrice wearing those tight jeans.
“Fuck, Bea, your ass…” Ava moans, letting Beatrice taunt her tongue out to play. “Such a firm ass. Gosh, you feel so good in my hands…”
Ava continues to grope the round and firm flesh, keeping an ear out for every hitch of Beatrice’s breath every time her nails dig into the skin, definitely leaving behind nail marks.
Beatrice, always the boobman, wants to return the sentiment by breaking their kiss and moves her lips down to Ava’s chest. Ava can only grab at her ass in clear desperation, moaning incoherently as Beatrice’s tongue peaks out to lick at Ava’s hardened nipple, while using her hand to give the other breast a firm squeeze.
“Fuck, you’re so good, you’re so good for me, baby.” Ava moans, her back almost arching off the bed when Beatrice’s grip on her tit grows even more firm, more harsh. “Fuck, touch me, touch me just like that, touch my boob just the way you’ve always wanted to.”
“Ava, Ava,” Beatrice can only pant, putting the nipple in between her two fingers and rubbing them together, giving Ava a sensation so explosive she doesn’t know what else to do but keep blabbering Beatrice’s name like she’s holy. “I want my tongue in you. Please. May I?”
“Fuck yes, yes baby, please. I want your tongue everywhere. On me, inside me, please.”
As big as Beatrice’s bedroom is, it also serves as a great echo chamber, Ava’s loud moans mixed together with the wet sounds of Beatrice’s tongue lapping at her wet pussy makes for a beautiful symphony of pleasure.
“So good, so good at eating pussy,” Soak in her own sweat, Ava still tries to encourage Beatrice to go faster, go harder, to go hammer in on her pussy. “Fuck, baby. You’re so good at this. You’re so good…”
Beatrice doesn’t wait for any more encouragement, picking up her pace. Her mouth works in diligence to suck at Ava’s clit, pumping two fingers in and out and in and out of her.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck–”
Not that it really matters in the end, but that was the third orgasm Beatrice just gave her.
Time to settle the score.
Taking advantage of Beatrice thinking she needs time to recover, Ava moves to slide a leg under Beatrice’s hips and flips.
The absolutely gobsmacked expression on Beatrice’s face is priceless. Ava will carry it with her for a long while.
“Contrary to popular opinion, I am not a pillow princess,” Ava says, teasingly leaning down to capture Beatrice’s lips in a kiss. She doesn’t let her deepen it, moving away just when she feels the wet tip of Beatrice’s tongue peaking out, even though she is very much tempted to do so when she leans back and spots the annoyed pout adorning lips she loves so much. “I want to return the favor. Can I, Bea?”
“Oh. You really want that?” Beatrice asks, with owlish eyes and disbelieving mouth.
Ava’s heart aches, blaming herself for having taken so long and making it even more difficult for Beatrice to believe she deserves love too. That she deserves to be taken care of too.
“Yes, baby,” Ava says, nudging their noses against each other. Beatrice goes a little cross-eyed, but not even for a second does she look away. “I love you. I want to make you feel good too. Would you allow me the honor of taking care of you too?”
There’s a brief pause, Beatrice clearly contemplating, but Ava doesn’t mind. She will wait for however long it takes, even if it’s not tonight. Beatrice’s waited for Ava her whole life, what’s a few more days.
“Okay.”
Ava’s eyes light up. “Okay?”
Beatrice nods, a little shy. “Okay. Just, take it slow? I haven’t, well, you know.”
“I know.” I know, and I’m going to hunt down every bitch who tried to take advantage of you like that. “I’ll go slow. I’ll listen. Just tell me if anything feels wrong, okay?”
“Okay, Ava.”
Ava smiles, leaning down for one last kiss. “I love you, Bea.” I love you so much. More than I’ve ever loved anything in this wretched world.
Beatrice sucks in a breath, as if she’s just heard what Ava was saying without actually saying it.
Ava doesn’t waste time to ponder over it, moving to maneuver herself down. She makes sure to leave kisses here and there, giving a particularly sharp nibble on Beatrice’s hips, delighted in the way the girl above her reacts with a small whimper.
She arrives where she’s needed the most in record time, and before anyone of them even knew it, her head is encased in between Beatrice’s beautiful thighs.
“Ava… Ava…”
Unlike Ava, who moans and pants and whines, all Beatrice does to show her pleasure is hum.
Little musical notes that sound heavenly despite the lack of proper vocal warmups or careful usage of vibrations, but they still sound heavenly to Ava and she wants them to be the accompaniment chorus to her funeral.
“You taste so good, baby. So sweet on my tongue.” Ava says as she gives several experimental licks, just waiting to strike the goldmine. “I love you, I love you…”
Ava’s patience pays off, as one particular flick of her tongue provokes a shiver and a loud whimper from above her.
Got you.
It’s not long before Beatrice comes on Ava’s tongue, her thighs trembling and shaking as Ava continues to work her tongue inside her. She waits, patiently, slowly pulling her fingers out of Beatrice, slowly making her way back up with her tongue giving teasing licks here and there.
When Ava finally reaches the top, she finds what has to be considered another one of the world's 7 wonders.
Beatrice, the most wondrous girl of all, looking at Ava like she’s God’s given. Oh be still her throbbing heart.
“Hey, was that okay?” Ava asks, gently flopping herself down on Beatrice’s chest. That’s where she stays, finger lingering on the persistent smile on Beatrice’s lips. “Did I make you feel good?”
“You did.” Beatrice answers, almost having a hard time just croaking out two words. Ava understands why when she looks up and sees amber eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be the type of person that cries during sex.”
Ava’s finger pokes deeper into the corner of Beatrice’s mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with crying, as long as it’s happy tears…?”
“They are. I am.” Beatrice emphasizes each phrase, like she wants it seared into Ava’s brain forever and ever. “I’ve never been happier than I am now. It’s all thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do anything, Bea. I just love you.” Ava answers, feeling a little choked up too. Sue her, she’s a bit of a sympathetic crier.
Beatrice sputters incredulously. “You have no idea just how much that means to me, don’t you.” She sniffles, wiping away her tears with a hand and then presses that hand against the quivering apple of Ava’s cheek. “For so long, I’ve thought I no longer deserve a love like this. Hell, I did just a week ago. But you came back. You came back for me and you loved me despite it all.”
“No, Bea. I don’t love you despite your, um… everything. I love you because they are what makes you you. Do I wish I could time travel like you so I can go back and kill those monsters who you had to call parents myself? Fuck yeah. But I can’t change anything about what happened in the past. I can only take responsibility for what happens in the present and in the future. Because your experiences shaped who you are, Bea. I wouldn’t love you all the way if I didn’t, in more fucked up ways than one, love them too.”
Ava barely gets to finish her speech before she feels strong hands coming up to grab at her neck and yanks her down for a kiss. She lets Beatrice kiss her stupid, of course, sensing that Beatrice needs an outlet for the volcano of affection boiling inside of her lest it explodes.
It’d be nice though if she can stop glowing and blinding Ava even with her eyes closed– wait a goddamn minute.
“Bea, hold on.”
“What is it?”
“Bea, we’re glowing. As in, we both are.”
True to her words, when Ava leans back to sit on her hindlegs, all she can see is gold.
Her hands, her torso, her legs, everything is bathed in a current of magical energy, almost circling around her like a curious fawn. Ava can do nothing but sit there with her jaw agape, with Beatrice looking equally as shocked, sporting a similar energy ring around herself.
There are so many things Ava could say, but what comes out of her mouth is, “Bea, are we shining?”
To her utter surprise, though she shouldn’t because Jamie looks like a Barbie-kinning lesbian anyway, Beatrice understands the reference right from the get-go.
“I don’t think so?” She answers, cautiously reaching up to hold Ava’s hands. “You feel different though.”
“I do?” Quirking an eyebrow, Ava takes a quick look at herself, not finding anything else aside from the slightly dimmer glow now. “I don’t see anything.”
I feel stronger.
“Bea, I’m not sure if that’s a come on, but as much as I would like to get back to the sex, I think we need to check this thing out first.”
“Ava, I didn’t say that out loud.”
… What?
Yeah. Can you hear me from in here?
Holy shit, Beatrice, I can read your mind??
It sure seems like it.
“Bea, what the fuck?” Ava says, verbally this time.
Unlike Ava’s growing excitement, Beatrice looks wrecked, on the verge of devastated tears. Ava doesn’t quite understand why until she starts babbling out. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I must’ve done something to you. I’ll try to fix this, I promise. I’m so sorry, Ava. You didn’t consent to this at all.”
“Hey, hey, hey” Ava quickly shushes her before she can go on. “It’s okay. I actually like this.”
“You… you do?” Beatrice asks, all adorably confused.
“Hell yeah.” Ava nods eagerly, bouncing on the spot. “Is there anything else different about me?”
“Well, you…” Beatrice squints her eyes for a brief moment before sitting up. Ava goes to wrap her arms around her shoulders, just for the sake of being close. “Your eyes are red.”
Eyebrows raised way above her hairline, Ava squeaks. “Red? Like yours?”
“Yeah. Like mine, when I use my powers.” Beatrice says, slowly, brows furrowed in concentration. “Ava, are you by any chance feeling like you’re about to jump off a wall in excitement?”
The tides keep turning, holy shit. “I didn’t even think that in my head, how did you know that?”
“I can feel it.” Beatrice’s arms go to wrap around Ava’s waist, pulling her closer so their chests are now flushed against one another. “I can feel everything you’re feeling right now. Excitement. Elation. Horniness?”
Ava’s cheeks heat up at the blatant call-out and the slight teasing undertone of Beatrice’s voice. “Well, excuse me for feeling horny when I’m sitting in the lap of the most gorgeous girl on the planet.”
Beatrice’s thoughtful frown turns into a smirk. “Is that so?”
One of her hands leaves its rightful place on Ava’s ass. The whine that almost escapes Ava turns into a strangled moan when that same hand lands a hard smack down on her ass.
“Fuck, baby–”
if you’re so horny, do you think you can fuck yourself just riding on my abs?
Fuck, that’s the best idea I’ve heard all week.
I’m here to serve, darling. “Now fuck yourself while I watch.”
The minute Beatrice lies back down on the bed, Ava begins to move. Her hands move to Beatrice’s shoulders for balance, as she begins to rub herself against the hard surface of Beatrice’s washboard 6-pack abs.
“Fuck, that’s so good, gosh even your abs make me feel so good” Ava moans, squeaking when Beatrice’s palm lands another smack on her ass, getting her to move even faster. “Harder baby, harder– fuck, spank my ass, spank my ass just like that!”
Beatrice grunts as she obeys, landing smack after smack that echoes filthily in the room.
“Ava, I can feel it– I can feel you close–”
Wait a minute. “Bea, get the strap on.”
“What?”
“Get the strap on. I have an idea.” Ava pauses to wink lewdly before continuing to move again, not wanting to lose the momentum of her build-up.
From the side, Ava can hear Beatrice telepathically open the nightstand drawer. Ava snatches the strap-on in midair, too excited to wait, before putting it around Beatrice’s waist.
Her girlfriend, fuck can she even call her that, lays still and lets Ava do whatever she wants with her. It’s only when Ava starts pooling some of her wetness onto her fingers and spreads them all over the dildo that she gets it.
“Oh fuck, that’s so hot–”
“Yeah?” Ava asks, giving her another wink, as her hand skillfully lubes the dildo to her preferred wetness. “Gosh you look so good. I can’t wait, I can’t wait for you to fuck me hard and good with this.”
“Ava, doesn’t this mean I can also–”
Ava laughs, which transitions into a guttural moan as she slowly sinks down on the strap, feeling the dildo stretch her pussy. “Yeah, baby, can you feel it too?”
Beatrice’s voice grows hard and strangled, flopping back down on the bed like she needs a breather. Yeah, welcome to Ava’s world.
“I can, I can feel it.” Beatrice pants, watching with half-lidded eyes as Ava begins to move. “Ava, darling, this is the best idea ever. You’re brilliant.”
The absurdity of Ava’s cheeks flushing at the compliment instead of at being fucked deliciously with a strap-on needs to be studied.
Not now though. Now, she needs to move faster. “Fuck! Fuck me! Fuck me just like that!”
“So beautiful. So gorgeous, riding me like that.” Beatrice praises, panting as she thrusts herself harder into Ava’s dripping cunt, the king-sized bed standing no chance and squeaking obnoxiously under the weight and intensity of their lovemaking. “Fuck, Ava. Ava–”
“I am– fuck Bea, it’s so good, it’s rubbing against my pussy, gosh I can’t describe how good it feels–”
Almost there. She’s so close. She’s so close.
Bea, I’m close. I’m almost there.
Me too. Me too. Come for me, darling.
Fuck, fuck, fuck– grab my tits– oh gosh yes, just like that–
God I love your breasts and the way they bounce like that. You feel so soft and round in my hands.
Fuck fuck fuck– “Fuck I’m coming!”
Beatrice didn’t pull out, much to Ava’s surprise, instead pulling Ava’s lips down and capturing them in a sweet, loving kiss. Beatrice swallows Ava’s moan as she helps Ava ride the wave of her orgasm, but her hips remain moving.
And then, all of a sudden, Ava finds herself on her stomach.
“God yes, fuck me in the ass, gosh I want to see you, I need you–”
Ava only hears the vaguest ruffling of Beatrice positioning herself behind her, too busy taking in the sight of the gigantic mirror placed strategically right by Beatrice’s bed.
Fuck I’m going to see myself being fucked in the ass.
Do you like that, Ava? You like to watch yourself being fucked?
“Fuck, baby, please. Put it in me. Fuck me hard, I need you right now–”
Ava lets out the most guttural moan at the feeling of Beatrice’s strap harshly thrusting into her once, then twice, then thrice, then falling into an unspoken rhythm.
She tries to keep her eyes open to watch herself, to watch as she is being fucked six ways to sundays by a deliciously dishelved Beatrice, who is looking down at Ava with so much love and desire in her eyes.
“Fuck, baby– that’s it– fuck me just like that–” Ava moans out her appreciation, beginning to push her own hips back to meet Beatrice’s thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes baby–”
Because Beatrice does everything with her whole heart put into it, she doesn’t give Ava just one orgasm in this position.
Every time Ava comes and coats the dildo with her cum, Beatrice only momentarily pauses so Ava can arch her back to the heaven and catch her breath, before once again moving back into the rhythm they established.
After each climax, Ava falls back into the rhythm just as easily, moaning and whining for her to fuck her faster and harder.
In the mirror, Ava sees Beatrice constantly mouthing Ava’s name in between her own more subtle whimpering, how Beatrice’s eyes are glued to the way Ava’s breasts bounce with every thrust and the way Ava’s ass ripples with every wet smack of their hips against one another.
One more, baby. Just one more.
Alright, darling. Get ready.
The minute Ava feels a hand coming up to grope at her breast and the other reaching down to circle at her clit, she knows she’s done for.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m coming! I’m coming, baby!”
“Fuck, Ava! Ava! I’m coming too! Fuck!”
This is going to be the best relationship of my life.
I love you too, darling.
—
Notes:
i'm pretty sure this is not what they meant when they called this giving tuesday but oh well. enjoy, you horny bastards! (affectionately) let me know if you want more or just if you enjoyed reading this. i check my inbox for comments every day cause, well, i am a whore for validation
anyway i'm on twitter as @luthorboy if you want to connect or whatever. take care, x