Work Text:
It happened the fourth time she and Ava slept together.
The two of them had been lazily making out on their bed, Beatrice reveling in the feeling of the other woman’s hand sliding downwards, until fingers tangled into a tuft of soaked hair and Beatrice jolted away in panic.
“Whoa! My bad, sorry!” Ava had exclaimed, snatching her hand back immediately.
Beatrice had simply ground her teeth together in response, feeling a warm flush creep up her neck, itchy and bothersome instead of the usual pleasant heat.
“Bea?” Ava had said, quietly. “You okay?”
“Um,” Beatrice had replied, forcing a small smile that felt like baring teeth. “Yes, sorry, I, uh, haven’t shaved in a while. I know it’s gross, I can just quickly go to the bathroom and take care of it.”
Beatrice made to get up from the bed, but before she could escape to a closed room and wallow in solitary shame, Ava’s hand touched her wrist. She froze.
“Hey, Bea?” Ava’s eyes were so wide, so open, so full of honest desire to help and understand. Beatrice was no match for her, never had been, not in this way.
“Yes?”
“You don’t, like, need to shave, y’know. I mean, I totally get if that’s just what would make you most comfortable, but if it’s just on my behalf,” Ava’s hand found its way into Beatrice and squeezed. “I don’t think it’s gross at all.”
Beatrice balked at the statement. Some of the horrible, trickling fear that had crept down her spine retreated at her girlfriend’s words, but not enough to drown out the anxiety whirling inside of her. Maybe she’d be fine if it had just been a week or two, but she’d been traveling the globe setting up new OCS outposts for the last two and a half months. Ava had been instructed by a stone-cold Mother Superior not to come along and instead spend the time home, recuperating.
Surprisingly, her girlfriend hadn’t managed to worm her way out of the forced relaxation, and so Beatrice and Ava had been apart from each other for the entirety of the mission. They still spoke as much as possible, Beatrice managing to sneak in a quick phone call before bed most nights, but the atmosphere wasn’t exactly conducive to steamy moments, considering she was sharing a room with five other people at any given time.
Beatrice had come home to their Swiss flat just yesterday, and much to her chagrin, she’d been too exhausted to do anything more than kiss her girlfriend on the lips and pass out. Luckily, sleeping in the same bed as Ava was akin to magic, and Beatrice had woken up wrapped in the other woman’s arms, thrumming with love and energy so loud she was sure it roused Ava from sleep.
Now, here they were, together again at last, and Ava was being her usual sweet self, but Beatrice couldn’t shake the feeling that her girlfriend didn’t understand. Ava was kind, but when it came down to it, she’d only ever seen Beatrice shaved or trimmed to a T-Beatrice had made sure of that. Maybe Ava didn’t think she’d care now, but as soon as she really saw Beatrice, she’d change her mind.
“It’s not just a little. I’m…I’m naturally quite….hairy.” Beatrice elaborated with a full body cringe at her own words of warning.
“I don’t mind,” Ava said.
Beatrice’s gaze darted up to Ava’s face, looking for a sign of trepidation, or thinly veiled disgust. Shockingly, she saw nothing untoward. In fact, Ava was sort of squirming in a way that nearly warranted further investigation.
Beatrice wasn’t overly familiar with the way Ava acted in…intimate situations, but her girlfriend was fidgeting, biting her lower lip, blushing; it was almost as if-
“It’s sort of hot, actually,” Ava continued.
Beatrice’s mind fizzled to a stop.
“Huh?”
“I liked the way it felt. The way you felt.” Ava said with a bashful smile, cheeks rosy and beautiful.
“There’s nothing gross about you.”
Beatrice blinked. Her brain continued buffering, fans whirring like an overheating computer. It was a phenomenon that she’d only ever experienced around Ava, and had majorly increased since the two of them had been intimate with each other. Beatrice would be concerned, if she hadn’t already embarrassingly confided in Camila about it, and been assured that it was to be expected.
The solution Beatrice had devised for such a situation? Unfortunately, she hadn’t arrived at one yet, despite her most valiant efforts.
The two of them sat in thick silence for a beat or two, before Beatrice jumped up, turning to face Ava on the bed.
“Shall I show you?” Beatrice found herself asking, unaware of what she was trying to accomplish, or where that idea had come from in the first place.
“I…if you want?” Ava answered. “No pressure, though.”
Beatrice promptly gulped in a breath, pulled down her sweatpants and underwear in one sweeping motion, kicked them off with her feet and looked back up, zeroing in on Ava’s face, wincing in preparation for the reaction that awaited her.
And Ava looked at her like she was a sight to be revered.
Rather than a disgusted scowl, Ava’s expression was wide-eyed and admiring. If her heavy-lidded eyes and open-mouthed panting were any indicator, she was feeling the exact opposite of turned-off.
A pulse of arousal burst through Beatrice like a battering ram.
“Hot, Bea, I told you so.” Ava said, a little lower than usual. Her eyes raked down Beatrice’s body, slow and steady, as if scared she’d miss something. “So fucking sexy.”
“....really?”
Beatrice spoke quietly, a part of her worried that if she was any louder, she’d break the moment, shatter whatever spell the two of them were under, and find Ava recoiling at the sight of her.
“Really.” Ava said. Her hand moved, ghosting down to press firmly between her own legs as naturally as anything.
Beatrice stood stock-still for a moment, listening to Ava’s breath hitch, until it occurred to her that this was ridiculous, that she was standing bottomless in front of Ava, showing her…her…
“Can I touch?” Ava asked. The tip of her tongue, pink and wet, slid across her bottom lip.
Beatrice barely held back a groan as another tidal wave of desire crashed into her, surged low in her belly in a sudden burst of need.
“Yes.” Beatrice all but whined.
Ava lay back on the bed and Beatrice shucked off her sports bra and climbed on top of her, staring down into the beautiful, wanting face of the other woman.
“You thought I wouldn’t like it?” Ava murmured, as if in disbelief, reaching a hand up to trail down Beatrice’s stomach.
“I-I thought-yes.” Beatrice mumbled in response, ducking her head to watch the descent of Ava’s fingers.
When she reached a little below Beatrice’s belly button, she paused, and Beatrice wondered why for a second, before remembering the small, soft hairs there, stubborn in their persistence and easily missed.
“Cute.” Ava said firmly, and Beatrice wondered what her own face had said aloud. “Little happy trail.”
“Happy trail?” Beatrice repeated in a whisper.
“You know it.” Ava grinned.
At last, her hand reached its destination, and rather than continuing to inch slowly, Ava simply pressed her warm palm against Beatrice’s mound, and held it there for a moment.
Beatrice let out a shaky exhale, her eyes sliding closed. She felt in a daze, throbbing and needy. Soon enough, her inner thighs would be sticky with proof of all of her wanting. Maybe Ava would trail her fingers through the glistening wetness, or better yet, grip a little tightly on the softness there. Maybe the press of her fingers would show themselves against Beatrice’s skin the next day.
Maybe she would be so lucky.
Beatrice groaned softly at the thought.
“I love you,” Ava murmured.
And finally, Ava traced her fingers through a version of Beatrice that she’d been ashamed of for years, touched the hairs that she’d come to know as dirty, and dipped down to Beatrice’s entrance, collecting the slick wetness there.
Beatrice moaned at the touch, sharp and hot and so, so good. She shuddered, realized her arms were shaking from holding herself up, but before she could say anything, Ava was embracing her and rolling them over, so Beatrice was lying on her back and Ava was straddling her thighs.
“Sorry. Thought you might be getting tired,” Ava whispered.
Eager to watch from the new angle, Beatrice tilted her head down to stare as the other woman continued her ministrations, stroking through the hairs, brushing against her clit, nudging at her entrance but not sinking deeper.
“Ava…” Beatrice had to sigh, had to say something, had to say everything. “Ava, I love you.”
“I love you too,” Ava smiled.
Her eyes glinted with a familiar mischievousness as she retraced her path upwards again, fingers taking a hold of a small tuft of hair, and then, so, so gently, pulling.
Beatrice gasped, back arching in pleasure, eyes slamming. She heard Ava exhale, and heard the joy in her breath.
“Bea. Can I taste you?”
Beatrice’s hips jerked upwards as soon as the words registered.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes, please, please, yes.” Beatrice replied ardently.
Beatrice spread her legs wide and waited as she felt Ava maneuvering herself to settle between them. A second more, and the wet, hot heat of Ava’s tongue was tracing the head of her clit, and Beatrice couldn’t hold back a shout of pleasure.
Ava hummed happily against her, brought one hand up to hold down Beatrice’s frantically bucking hips, and brought her mouth lower, licking into her. Beatrice threw an arm over her face, abandoned all presence of mind and moaned her approval.
“Ava. Ava. Ava.”
Ava skimmed her unoccupied hand along Beatrice’s wet thighs, teasing and promising all in one.
“Ava, finger? Please?” Beatrice asked, or rather, begged.
She’d realized with a start that she was remarkably close. She’d just been riding the waves of pleasure, uncaring of any oncoming peaks, but now that she’d noticed, it was imperative that Ava be inside her when she came.
“Of course,” Ava said against her skin, and did just what was asked of her.
Beatrice groaned at the first, glorious feeling of it, Ava’s finger pressing deep and insistent within her. She clenched down, helpless to the building ecstasy, and Ava began to move, curling her finger upwards, reaching for that one spot-
“Oh…oh, oh fuck!” Beatrice wailed, voice quickly growing louder. Her thighs were shaking, sweat rolling down her face, mouth open wide. “Fuck! Ava!”
Ava added another finger, licked a stripe up Beatrice’s pussy, and moved her hand faster. Beatrice could do nothing but pant and whine and relish in the pressure building, the pleasure spiking, the hot, sweaty, bliss of it all. Just before she fell over the edge, Beatrice cracked an eye open with a startling amount of effort, yearning for a peek at the woman she loved.
And there she saw Ava, face buried between her legs, arm moving furiously, licking up the length of Beatrice’s clit, and then craning her neck upwards just a little more to run her tongue greedily across the shock of hair that Beatrice had been so ashamed of.
And that visual was what sent her leaping, flying off the edge, her whole body going taut and a monsoon of shuddering pleasure erupting within her. Her walls pulsed against Ava’s fingers as if enveloping her, as if showing their approval, her body screaming yes, this is a person that must be embraced, that must embrace us.
After what felt like a lifetime of cascading pleasure, and an ensuing cooldown complete with aftershock tremors, Beatrice found herself lying on her back, covered in sweat, panting in an effort to catch her breath.
Ava’s warmth traveled upwards until she was lying next to Beatrice, their sides pressed against each other, and Beatrice at last opened her eyes.
“Good?” Ava asked, so earnestly that Beatrice nearly wept.
“So good, Ava.” Beatrice promised. Her legs felt wobbly, she was lying in a wet spot of her own making, the love of her life was nestled up against her, all overheated skin and sweet, toothy grins.
“You really shouldn’t stress about shaving and all that,” Ava murmured into her ear.
“Yes, I’ve definitely gathered that much,” Beatrice said with a disbelieving shake of her head. Then, softer; “Thank you, Ava. That was wonderful.”
“I should be the one thanking you,” her girlfriend replied in a tone the verbal equivalent of wagging one's eyebrows suggestively.
And Beatrice laughed.