AN: Because feedback is a drug, and I am weak. You guys made my week with the response to (You're The) Devil in Disguise, so consider this a thank you before I wander back over to my bread and butter science fiction. Enjoy.

Work It Out

What a fucking day.

By the time Beca managed to make it home, she considered her status as 'homicide free' a testament to her inhuman restraint. She should have known to go back to bed after the stuff she poured on her cereal more closely resembled cottage cheese than milk. Every light going to and coming from campus was red. That Bach class was still kicking her ass, even after studying so damn much that she saw fugues whenever she closed her eyes. Her shift at the radio station basically boiled down to fielding calls from drunk-in-the-middle-of-the-day frat douches and some jackass who called her latest mash-up juvenile and derivative.

Derivative. Direct quote. The next person who pissed her off was getting their head put on a goddamn spike.

"Anyone home?" she called out as she opened the door, so desperate for this stupid day to be over already that she didn't bother untying her shoes before trying to pull them off. The loose sole on the left one promptly tore the rest of the way, leaving her still shod and holding a sad little scrap of rubber and cracked glue.

"Seriously?" Alright, this had to be rock bottom. Absolutely, totally, the worst day on record.

Just when she was beginning to think the safest course of action was to curl up in a little ball on top of her ruined shoes and wait until midnight passed, she heard music. Guitar, distortion, then a slick beat drop as a male vocalist came in. When Iggy started dropping the verse, her voice wasn't the only one sliding over the words.

Time to keep it One Hundred
I'm a boss chick but he run it
No Michael Kors, just Tom Ford
Saint-Tropez, I'm like 'bonjour'
In Spain wearing that Balmain
Lanvin, Givenchy
On the top floor of that penthouse
I got ten toes on that concrete

There in the living room, in nothing more than thrift store jeans and a skimpy black bra, was Chloe, spitting out the verse like it was written for her. Damp haired and barefoot, rocking her hips to the beat as she serenaded the stereo.

It was basically the sexiest thing Beca had ever seen.

Let me thumb through the check if you wanna get sexy
You knew I was high class ass when you met me

God, just look at her go. All movement and rhythm and muscle shifting smoothly under her skin. The pitch of the song was right around her break, the new one she was still getting used to after the surgery, so her voice was doing that low, tight growl-y thing that just reduced Beca to a hormonal teenage boy. She had to grab a fistful of the back of the couch just to keep from jumping her.

Respect that, how I come around
No run around, you better humble down
These games, ain't gon' play none
Keep it A-One since day one, yeah

You ain't the type of lady that's known to fuck around
Mm–

Chloe shrieked and jumped at least two feet in the air when Beca started the chorus. "Jesus, Bec! You scared the crap out of me. When did you get home?" Beca couldn't bring herself to answer, still trapped in the pull of it all.

"Are you alright, sweetie? You're kinda looking at me like a side of beef, not that I can really blame you, of cour–"

The first kiss was all teeth and tongue and promise, Beca's fingers at Chloe's belt loops and Chloe's nails on the back of Beca's neck. The second brought Chloe's back into solid contact with the drywall. The third was a blur of skin and lace and friction.

"Hit repeat," Beca managed to growl against Chloe's neck, grinning when Chloe's arm shot out and slapped blindly at the stereo.

"S'this okay?" she followed up as she started working on the button of Chloe's jeans. Chloe nodded frantically.

"So okay," she wheezed, head cracking back against the wall at the first, rough touch. There was always something primal about that feeling against the tips of her fingers, something in the softness and the heat that filled Beca with the overwhelming compulsion to move. So she did, planting her free hand against the wall and throwing her weight into the thrust of it. Chloe groaned, one hand scratching mindlessly at the wall while the other tangled sharply in Beca's hair.

It was instinct by this point, three fingers and a twist to her wrist that let them scrape against the barest hint of roughness inside. Chloe's legs began to shake, the flush spreading down over her chest as her eyes turned cloudy and distant. The weight against Beca's hand increased in slips and shudders, twisting close enough to pain that everything was heightened. The thick smell of sex tinged with flowery soap, the taste of sweat and desperation, the beat buzzing in her chest. She needed more. More of everything. More. Faster.

Chloe collapsed against her with strangled whimper and Beca's world became a rush of tight and heat and wet. She leaned against Chloe's shoulder and panted, unable to process anything beyond the unbearable lust throbbing under her skin.

So it was a little surprising when she felt something slide between her ankles and kick her legs apart.

She slid forward with a yelp, landing hard astride one of Chloe's legs. Chloe grinned down at her breathlessly, scraping down against the wall while yanking Beca up by her belt. The grind was mind numbing.

She should be embarrassed, she thought distantly. Rutting up against Chloe like a damn dog. But she was already lost to the rhythm of it all, to the sleek muscularity of Chloe's thigh, to the dark glint in her eyes as she watched Beca move. The music circled back into the bridge, and Chloe leaned down until her mouth was beside Beca's ear.

She started to sing, high and sweet at the top of her upper register. The song blended seamlessly with the music still pumping beside them, twining in and out in a way that Beca would have loved to analyze if there was even a drop of blood left in her brain.

But I can't compete
With the she-wolf who has brought me to me knees
What do you see in those yellow eyes?
As I'm falling to pieces

And fall Beca did, with a shout and a flash of white static behind her eyes.

By the time some sense of awareness returned, she and Chloe were piled in a sweaty heap on the floor. The bass was still buzzing in her back molars, and Chloe laughed when she twisted on her side to pull the stereo plug out of the wall.

"You don't play fair, Beale," she panted, letting her head flop back on Chloe's arm.

"All part of my charm," Chloe responded easily, leaning over to kiss Beca on the forehead before reclining back against the floor. "How was your day?"

"Not half bad, if you average it out," Beca sighed happily. Fuck all the clichés, dude; she couldn't feel her legs and everything was awesome.

"Hey, Beca?" Chloe yawned after a few minutes.

"Mm?"

"What the hell happened to your shoe?"

AN2: Musical stylings include 100 by Iggy Azalea feat. WatchTheDuck and She Wolf (Falling to Pieces) by David Guetta feat. Sia.