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Making Music With Her Mouth
By mel


If anyone had asked her five months ago if she enjoyed making music with her mouth, Beca Mitchell would have laughed in their face and walked away. In fact, she did, as Chloe loves to remind her. But five months ago she didn't. She made music with her keyboard, her mixers, and her computer. Yeah, okay, she sang too, when it was needed to complete the track she was making, but it wasn't what she loved about music. She loved analyzing beats. Breaking down rhythms. She loved finding two things that were, in their most basic form, completely different and finding a way to merge the essence of their individual nuances together to create something new and beautiful.

Which, okay, when she looked at it like that, all of this made perfect sense because she wasn't supposed to enjoy being part of the Bellas. She really wasn't Bella material, as Aubrey loved pointing out to her. But, like her mash-ups, there was something about the combination of her and the a cappella group that just worked. And despite all her misgivings about joining when she first did it, she couldn't deny that she loved it. But more than the rush she got from performing and watching the audience respond to them, or the friendships she'd begrudgingly made but now secretly cherished, what she loved most was making music with her mouth. She used to think that all she needed was her computer to make beautiful music, but she'd been wrong.

The most beautiful sounds she'd ever heard weren't something she could create by mixing tracks. She made them with her mouth, her lips, and her tongue as the feeling of silky-smooth thighs against her cheeks spurred her onward and honeyed tones rained down on her from above. If she pressed just a little harder right there, she got a gasp. If she pulled back, lightly flicking her tongue, a whimper. When she pushed in deep, she got a moan. A long, trembling, drawn-out moan that shook the rafters and rolled down her spine like a caress. It was perfect. All of it. And she never tired of finding new songs to play. She could play Chloe's body like the beautiful, finely tuned instrument it was and she loved it. Loved the way the redhead's hips would rock against her, the way a hand would tangle itself in her hair to try and forcefully guide her to where Chloe wanted her. She loved the taste, the smell, the feeling of soft skin under her fingers as she tried to hold her still. She loved all of it, but she loved the sounds Chloe made the most.

And that was how she found herself on her knees in the shower with her face buried between Chloe's glorious thighs. The acoustics of the showers really were incredible, and it felt like every gasp, whimper, and moan that she coaxed from the redhead's lips was in Dolby-surround, reverberating through the stalls and landing in slick, musical, arousing waves between her own thighs. She smiled as Chloe's hand wound itself in her hair for balance as she guided the redhead's left leg over her shoulder, giving her the angle she needed to get closer, and looked up into those startling blue eyes she loved to lose herself in. "Don't hold back," she challenged.

"Like I ever do," Chloe retorted with a smile.

Chloe wasn't one for being quiet and Beca loved that about her as she dove in, lapping lightly at the redhead's clit as she held tight to her hips, refusing to let her move. The frustrated grunt she got in response was both unexpected and amusing, and she chuckled as the hand in her hair tightened in silent protest. "Let me," she whispered, looking up and nuzzling Chloe's inner thigh with her cheek.

"Beca," Chloe whined.

"Chloe," she teased playfully, purposefully mimicking the redhead's pleading tone. She smiled and added in a softer tone, "Please."

Unable to resist the sight of lust-darkened eyes gazing pleadingly up at her, Chloe nodded. "God, the things you do to me Beca," she muttered as her head landed with a quiet thwack against the tile beneath the showerhead.

"Thank you," she murmured, rubbing her hands up and down over the redhead's perfect hips. The low, deep, rumbling moan that escaped Chloe as she pushed her tongue deep inside her reverberated off the walls and made her nipples grow painfully hard as her body reacted to the sound of Chloe's pleasure. She thrust into her one, two, three times in quick succession, enjoying the way the redhead's voice rose with each push, and then smiled as she pulled back and resumed lapping lightly at her clit. She varied the force and the tempo of each touch of her tongue, resulting in an almost hypnotic mix of sounds that left her craving more. Always more. Long, heavy licks made Chloe gasp. Light, quick flicks made her whimper. Drawing circles around the bud made the redhead groan and try to roll her hips against Beca's mouth in an attempt to find that direct contact she wanted.

But the best sound was the low, rich, trembling moan that escaped Chloe when she surrounded the redhead's clit with her tongue and began sucking lightly against it. When she started tapping the nub with her tongue in time to the beat of Titanium – the song chosen because it was, after all, Chloe's "lady jam" – the hand in her hair pulled harder and the hips under her hands strained to try and match the rhythm she was creating. She held tight to Chloe's hips, refusing to allow her to alter the tempo of the song she was playing until she could tell that the redhead was strung as tightly as she could be without snapping, and only then did she loosen her grip on Chloe's hips and allow her to take charge of their song. She met the redhead's rocking thrusts eagerly, giving her what she wanted while also taking what she desired, and it was more beautiful than any mix she'd ever made before.

And she knew that what made it so beautiful was the fact that it wasn't just her song. It was theirs. The intro was the soft kisses and gentle touches they shared as they came together. The chorus was made up of Chloe's melodic whimpers, gasps, and moans. The refrain was Beca's name, moaned with such fervent passion that it made the brunette clench with need. The quiet, playful words they inevitably shared were the bridge, pulling both the song and themselves together. The climb consisted of Chloe's desperately murmured pleas as she soared toward her peak and fell into the final chorus, her body trembling with release. And then there was Beca's favorite part of the song, the coda, where the hand in her hair would loosen and the sounds of Chloe's pleasure would become quieter and more intimate. She loved the booming notes the redhead could hit and endeavored to find new ways to blend them all together, but these sounds were her absolute favorite. The soft sighs. The trembling breaths. The whispered words of affection. The quiet laughter that escaped Chloe as she kissed her way back up her stomach. The low hum that would rumble in the back of the redhead's throat as she kissed her. Those were the sounds she loved the most.

If anyone had asked her five months ago if she enjoyed making music with her mouth, Beca Mitchell would have laughed in their face and walked away. In fact, she did. But a soft smile and beautiful blue eyes pulled her in against her will and now she knows that the most beautiful music she can create is, in fact, one that she makes with her mouth. And she doesn't just enjoy it. She loves it.

The End

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