Heterosexual Insults

-One Shot-

Physically flawless. Gorgeous specimen. Sweat smells like cinnamon.

Beca turns the faucet on, allowing the water to swirl around the basin. She reached out both hands, soaking them with the cool water before bringing them up and splashing the liquid on her face. She needed to stop thinking. About her.

"Ugh," she groaned as she brought her head up to look at herself in the mirror, the water tracing the contours of her face before dripping back into the basin. Her mascara and eyeliner now smudged, looking like bags under her eyes.

She shook her head, the few stray hairs she had were now stuck to her face. No amount of cold water was going to get that woman out of her head.

The woman had invaded her mind just like Germany had invaded Poland. Beca's brow furrowed. That was a bad metaphor, but it was beside the point. The German goddess from Das Sound Machine had confused the fuck out of her and she had no idea how to deal with it.

She had a boyfriend, and although he wasn't around a lot, she cared for him, and now she had that tall blonde who made her knees weak and her mind jello her mind was in turmoil.

Usually she would head to Chloe for answers but any mention of a like for the opposition would surely get an Aubrey-esque rage about how it was bad, how they shouldn't be fraternising with the enemy and how it would esentially be like breaking the 'never have sexual relations with a Treblemaker'.

The short brunette removed herself from her bathroom, trudging across the room to her bed and throwing herself on it face first. Quickly reaching out, she pulled a pillow down and placed it under her face, burying her head in it and yelling. The pent up stress and frustration that the World's had left on her, not to mention that certain blonde, gave her no option other than to vent. She yelled a little longer, but feeling no relief.

She picked up her phone, not particularly wanting to, and she dialled Chloe's number. The ginger picked up on the second ring.

"Bec's, you know I'm just across the hall?" she greeted as Beca ran her free hand down her face.

"I can't see anyone right now," she told her best friend quickly.

"You're using international calling," Chloe pointed out.

"I don't care! I'm just -argh!" Beca kicked her feet on her bed.

"Are...you okay?"

"Ugh, I'm frustrated! I can't vent! We need to go home...now!"

"You know our flight isn't for another two days, and you can vent to me?" Chloe suggested, taking caution with how she talked to her friend.

"Don't remind me," Beca sighed, calming for a second. "Is there a gym at this hotel?"

"Yeah, second floor?" Chloe replied with a questioning tone. Beca never went to the gym, it was always Chloe.

"Good, I should be back in time to have dinner with you and the rest of the girls," Beca said, hanging up quickly, cutting off Chloe before she even had the chance to say bye.

Beca pulled out her suitcase from the wardrobe next to the bed, inside she had put away a duffel bag incase she needed a larger carry-on bag for when they left Denmark. She pulled out a pair of baggy sweats and a black tank top from the suitcase also, pulling off the clothes she originally had on, threw those in the duffle bag before replacing the clothes with the ones she was going to wear when she went down to the gym.

Chucking a towel in the bag and grabbing a bottle of water from the minibar, she double checked she had her key card and headed for the second floor.

Arriving in the gym, Beca was thankful that there weren't many patrons. She scanned the room, seeing the usual; treadmills, exercycles, free wights, leg presses...everything. To her left she saw a female shower and changing room and decided she would dump her bag in there. Grabbing her bottle, she headed back into the gym, walking straight towards the boxing equipment. Beca felt this was the only way to let out her frustration.

Picking up a set of wraps from the bins, she took a quick sniff, noting that they had been cleaned between uses, and began wrapping her hands.

Finding a skipping rope, she gave herself a warm up. getting the blood pumping through her body wasn't going to take long; she was already pretty worked up from previous frustration. Thinking about that frustration, about her, just made her more pumped. Finishing her warm up, she proceeded to practice her jabs and hooks, switching up her movements before ducking from an imaginary target before giving it an uppercut. The more she thought, the more powerful her throws were becoming. A sweat had formed over her entire body causing her to glisten in the light.

"Fuck – you," she hissed between jabs. "Why – did – you – have – to – be – so – gorgeous!" she almost yelled the last word as she defeated her imaginary foe with a sharp job to where she imagined the stomach.

She felt eyes on her, and although there were only a few people in the gym, it felt as though she had amassed an audience the size of the one they had, had at the World's only a day earlier. She was starting to feel a little better, picking up her bottle and draining half of the flavourless liquid into her mouth.

She was ready to actually hit something now, grabbing a set of small sized gloves, she slid them over her wrapped hands and managed to strap them tight. She eyed the punching bag up, beginning her routine of jabs and hooks. Each punch she landed was satisfying, it didn't hurt her hands, but the contact rippled up her arms and pumped her, slapping sounds echoed out in the room and she lost herself. Frustration about that fucking gorgeous blonde woman from the enemy team just about gone. Her energy depleating, she ended up throwing a punch and collapsing into the punching bag, hugging it for support.

"Ugh, why must everything be confusing," she muttered to herself, finding a bench and sitting herself on it, sweat now dripping off her.

"What is confusing?" came a reply.

Beca scrunched her face up at the voice; the accent. No, no, no. She wasn't meant to be here. Go away. Leave me the fuck alone. You're too fucking beautiful. The thought ran through Beca's mind over and over again.

"In Germany, it is courteous to reply to a question," came the voice again.

Beca didn't look up. "In America, it is courteous to not listen to other peoples conversations, no matter how good looking you are," Fuck.

Beca could practically feel Kommissar's smirk making holes in the back of her head. "I wasn't aware you were having a conversation with anyone out, maus,"

That damn name. Beca looked up at the woman, her hair was pulled back off her face and in a ponytail. Of course she doesn't have flyaways. Black tank and matching leggings. They said black was a slimming colour, but it also had ways of defining every bit of perfection. Beca swallowed hard.

"What do you want from me?" Beca asked, surprising herself with the lack of failed insult.

"You are boxing, no?"

Duh. "For someone so perfect, I thought you'd be able to pick up the obvious," the brunette replied, tapping the knuckles of the gloves together. Wait. I just said she was perfect. Fuuuuck.

Kommissar chuckled. "I didn't think you'd be into boxing, being so little and all,"

"If you must know, I'm only here letting out my frustrations because of you," goddamn. Could Beca just not keep her damned mouth shut.

Kommissar watched as Beca stood from her spot, readying herself to begin boxing again, so naturally, the blonde took a step into Beca's personal space.

She used her own foot to manouver Beca's foot into a better position, watching as the brunette got lower to the ground. The blonde grabbed Beca by the wrists, pulling her hands in front of her face.

"Strike," Kommissar told Beca, gesturing towards the punching bag, she nodded, the better stance produced a stronger punch. "That should let out some of your frustrations, maus," she told Beca before dropping to a whisper. "But not all of them,"

As the German whispered in her ear, she felt her warm breath caress the side of her face. This only increased frustration and Beca lashed out at the punching bag with a flurry of punches. She was aware that the woman had moved away from her side and was now strapping something to her own hands. She tried blocking it, but that German was only just in her peripheral vision and this made her weak.

Why does she make me feel this way? She cursed in her mind, kicking the bag with her left leg. She watched out the corner of her eye as Kommissar grew closer to Beca. She was wearing focus mitts.

"Hit these," she told Beca, her smirk still gracing her lips.

Her lips, Beca thought, turning and glacing at them briefly, before returning to the bag in front of her.

Kommissar slapped the mitts together. "Come on, maus, I thought I made you frustrated," she winked. "Let it out,"

"The only way I'd let it out is if I sat on your face," Beca shot back, pulling her hands to her face as she realised what the fuck she had said. If her face wasn't already as red as a tomato, it sure would be now. Brining her gloved hands down slightly, she caught a glimpse of the German goddess. She was smiling and Beca could have sworn her pupils had dialated.

"Maybe later," the blonde shot back.

"I'll hold you to that," Beca internally groanded, she was making a fool of herself. She knew the only way the German would leave her alone would be to punch her mitts and get it over and done with.

Launching her attack on Kommissar's mitts, they both settled into a rhythm. Jab, jab, hook, duck and then Kommissar's hand would swipe for Beca. Over and over they went. To the other patrons, it probably looked like a well rehearsed dance. Their feet moved together as they dodged each other, moving in a circle as the lead each other on.

Twenty minutes of sparring and Beca was done. She was exhausted, sweat dripping off her face once more. She looked at her sparring partner who was also covered in a film of sweat. Somehow it made her look sexier, that combined with the fact that her hair was no longer perfect, there were a few stray pieces sticking to her forehead.

"I'm done," Beca told the girl, unstrapping her gloves and unwrapping her hands and throwing them in the dirty items bin.

"You really are a feisty maus," Kommissar told her.

"You really are sexy as hell," she slapped her head. Why must she keep losing her tongue around this woman.

"Do I really make you that nervous that you lose all your words?"

"Don't flatter yourself," score one to Beca, she'd finally hit back with something.

She tried escaping the blonde by heading to the changing rooms but it seemed the blonde had the same idea. Beca tried to ignore the German, grabbing her towel and heading to one of the showers. She thanked fuck that these were cubicle stalls, with a curtain divider, and not like the ones back at Barden which just had a curtain. She didn't need another woman barging into her shower.

Stripping her clothes, she cringed, Beca hated being sticky and sweaty. A cold shower was going to be a welcome to her hot skin. Stepping under the water she sighed. There was some sort of release in punching the crap out of a bag, but there was still the frustration that burned under her skin. The type that had been left there by the German woman.

Beca couldn't help but get lost in her thoughts, her hand unknowingly snaking down from her hair, over her breasts, over her stomach before nestling in the heat between her thighs. Her breath hitched as she touched herself. She hadn't done this in a long time and it was a warm welcome. Sliding her hand down further, her fingers slid between the hot folds and felt the wet heat of her sex. She wanted to moan, but she was aware that Kommissar was still probably in the changing room.

Kommissar, Beca thought. Her eyes, her lips, those heels she wore to the riff off, the accent. She lost herself in the thoughts of the German dragging her nails down Beca's back, her lips attached to the brunette's back.

Beca couldn't help but let out a moan, and as she had guessed it, Kommissar was still in the changing room. Lucky for her though, she was the only one in there.

Kommissar's eyes darkened, she could have sworn she heard moaning. Grabbing a card from her bag, she quietly made her way to the only occupied shower. Using the card in the lock (because we all know how much bathroom locks suck) she slowly unlocked the door. She didn't care if this was creepy or not, she had picked up on Beca's confused sexuality the day they met. There had been endless banter and flirting and somehow she figured Beca would thank her for this later.

Stepping into the cubicle and closing and locking the door, she thanked Beca that she had drawn the curtain divider. She could see the silhouette of the short girl and under the sounds of the water she could hear the laboured breathing.

Stripping her own clothes and placing them next to Beca's, she stepped past the curtain. She was greeted by the sight of Beca, on hand between her legs, the other massaging her breast and her eyes scrunched shut.

Kommissar took the opportunity, stepping closer so that she could now feel the water on her own skin, and brought her face close to Beca's. The brunette's lips were slightly parted and this caused Kommissar to bring her lips gently to the other girl's.

For a moment, Beca had kissed her back. She quickly realised that wasn't right and snapped her eyes open. The blonde was in her shower and had just kissed her. How the hell had she let herself in.

"What the fuck dude!" No slip ups this time, she was genuinely confused.

Kommissar had no words, stepping forward till she could feel her skin against Beca's. "Oh, maus, no come back today?" she teased.

Beca should have been angry, upset, annoyed, but she wasn't, she couldn't be. Not when her fantasty had literally played out in front of her like it had been in her mind only a few minutes before hand.

Wrapping an arm around the taller woman, she brought her face down to her height, crashing their lips together in nothing but passion. The blonde was eager, nipping at Beca's bottom lip before soothing it with the sweep of her tongue.

Kommissar dragged her hands down Beca's sides, feeling the Bella shiver under the touch. She smirked against the brunettes lips, bringing her hands back up to her chest, massaging her breats before flicking a thumb over each of the hardened nubs.

Beca hissed out of pleasure, breaking their kiss and moving her lips to the older woman's neck. She was going to mark her either way.

"Now, now, maus,"

"Shut up," Beca murmerd .

Kommissar let out a small laugh before it was cut with a moan. Beca had been a cheeky shit and put her hands straight between the German's legs, finger slicing through the folds and into the wet heat. She traced her finger around, brining it to the blonde's clit, before heading further in and entering her.

Kommissar's moan would have been enough to get Beca off, and it very nearly did. As Beca's fingers worked Kommissar, she decided to pull away. Beca was somewhat disappointed before she realised the German was kneeling before her.

"Put your leg over my shoulder," she breathed out and Beca did as she was instructed.

Kommissar was quick to latch her lips to the brunette's thighs, leaving her own mark before moving up to her mark.

As soon as her tongue made contact with Beca's clit, she felt the girl spasm above her. She smirked into the sex as she brought a few fingers up and eased them into the Bella.

"Komm-" Beca began moaning out.

The German cut her off quickly, "It's Luisa," she corrected. She would rather hear her own name moaned rather than her title.

Beca smiled, before the next wave of sensation hit her, causing her to throw her head back. If the German between her legs continued like this she wouldn't last long. She was right, with a few more strokes, a quick flick of the tonuge and Luisa saying "Come for me," and the brunette did just that. Her eyes scrunching shut, leg tensed and hand holding the German's head in place. A tingling sensation spread from her toes all over her body. Her chest was heaving.

Moving her leg after a moment, the blonde stood before her, locking their lips together. Beca could taste herself on the woman's lips and she really didn't care.

The German turned to walk out of the shower.

"What about you?" Beca asked quietly.

"You know where to find me," came the reply as she gathered her clothing and slipped out of the shower.

AN: So I got caught up in the Becommissar / Becissar ship. Birgitte is a fucking babe.

I felt I had to write something about them other wise I wasn't going to be able to finish my other fics.

I, personally, struggle to read and write fics with smut. Like, if there is a lot of character building and romance that leads to smut, sure thats fine, but something like this, I struggle with.

I hope you all liked this anyway and please leave me a review to tell me what you thought!