fanfiction;; chemicals react // victorious
title: chemicals react
rating: M
characters/pairing(s): andrecat, andretori, beckcat, beckjade, beckrobbie, becktori, catjade, cattori, jaderobbie.
notes: a series of unrelated, porn-y drabbles. enjoy (;
disclaimer: victorious isn't mine. apparently, if it was, all the characters would be fornicating.
;;
i. what’s the opposite of gold?
she’s jealous. just a little.
it’s because they’re so damn perfect together. pretty smiles and pretty skin and pretty hair and the same chocolate eyes. let’s face it, they are everything you want to be with beck (and can’t be).
it’s a little s i c k, actually. w r o n g.
girls like boys. girls don’t like girls. girls don’t want to see girls fucking girls. it’s WRONG.
cat and tori don’t seem to mind. cat kisses tori’s cheek in public, holds her hand when they walk down the hallways; tori calls her baby and rests her hand on her thigh and whispers things into her ear. they shine and glitter like gold and no one seems to mind.
jade’s grip on beck’s hand gets a little tighter - babe, you alright?
“sure,” she says, “just fine.”
;;
ii. your heart matches your eyes
robbie blinks, shifts a little, and reaches for his glasses.
he prays for tomorrow.
“so,” she says, voice sultry, eyes like a cat’s, “felt good, right, virgin mary?”
robbie swallows, doesn’t meet her gaze. her eyes are ice blue; frozen over from one too many mistakes.
jade touches his chest, drags her fingers to his collarbones, up his neck, touches his jaw, “ready for round two?”
robbie closes his eyes. goes with the flow.
;;
iii. the way you never leave my side
“yes. yes!”
you never thought you’d be in this position, but here you are, head between another girl’s thighs, tongue in the most sacred region of her body, listening to her scream. her fingernails are digging into her shoulders, burning, scraping, but you kind of like the pain - it pushes you forward, makes you braver knowing that someone so high and mighty is putty in your hands right now.
“he’s never made you feel like this,” you mutter, pulling away for a moment, pushing her hips down when she bucks them up. you like seeing jade west like this. desperate. weak. it’s a sight that you know that almost no one else has had the pleasure of seeing.
you dip your head back down, tongue exploring her once more.
“cat - catcatcatcatcat.” she can hardly breathe and you know she’s going to fall apart and it’s so beautiful that you want to cry.
“shh,” you murmur, “i’m here.”
;;
iv. parenthesis
he’s is supposed to be straight (well, so are you, but).
“robbie,” he mutters against your lips, his hand snaking into your boxers and gripping your erection. your eyes squeeze shut and you breathe his name into his jaw and everything is suddenly too much and not enough and you just don’t want it to stop but you don’t think you can take it anymore.
“b-beck.” your voice is raspy and it’s at an embarrassing octave, actually, but beck’s hand moves faster over you and you don’t remember why you should be embarrassed.
he knows every part of you. he maps your skin with his fingertips. he leaves pieces of himself in the crevices of your body until everything reads his name (beckbeckbeckbeckbeck).
he wants you (he has jade, he wants you).
his name sounds like a bell on your tongue. your vision blurs.
(he smiles, proud of his work.)
;;
v. you’ll find me in the clouds one day, floating away
it’s just tori, he tells himself.
yeah, just tori. tori, who smells like vanilla who looks like an angel who tastes like strawberries. except you’re not supposed to know that, because she used to taste like cherry. that means it’s been a little more recent than the first time.
or the second or the third or fourth. once she tasted like pina colada and that’s his favorite by far. but that’s a secret.
“hey,” she says, bright, shining, happy. she’s holding hands with andré. he takes jade’s hand.
“hey,” beck says, grinning. he shares a look with her. she’s not quite an angel anymore.
;;
vi. the camera loves a pretty face
cat is dancing around in her bra and panties, hair flying, mouth open in a silent laugh. it’s dark and nighttime and she’s alive and it’s beautiful in the filthiest way.
the camera flashes.
cat feels pretty.
“cat,” andré breathes, because goddamn, cat is so beautiful and awake and perfect that he can’t help but stare. the camera flashes again, a third time, a fourth time. she pushes her index finger into her mouth; andré can see her tongue in between the opening in her lips. click. a sultry look. flash.
the camera clatters when it hits the hardwood, sliding a couple inches that go unnoticed because andré’s hands are trailing down cat’s sides, he’s unclasping her bra, dipping his fingers into her panties, his mouth is on her collarbone, her nipple.
cat gasps, jerks her hips forward. she wraps her legs around him, fumbles with his shirt. her eyes are lidded and her mouth is half-open and she whispers words that andré had no idea she even knew existed.
“fuck me,” she whispers, panting, “pleasepleasepleaseplease.”
and, well, andré can’t say no to such a pretty face.
;;
vii. keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times
you’re treading dangerous waters.
in case you’ve forgotten, this is jade west. she’ll break you. she’ll destroy you. she’ll conquer you.
also, she won’t give a damn when it’s all over.
but this time, you think, is different. she’s opening up to you. she trusts you (in some ways, in no ways, in more ways than one, you think). she at least trusts you enough not to breathe a word when she’s got her legs wrapped around you as you grind your hips together through your clothes.
“beck,”
(she can probably feel you oh god she can totally feel you.)
jade west is like drowning. like not being able to see or breathe and the only thing you can think is: GET OUT ALIVE.
;;
viii. i was raised to be charming, not sincere
she kisses her way up his thigh and licks the head of his erection like a sex kitten (like a whore).
“yeah, like that,” he growls, threading his hands through her hair. she whimpers and it’s sexy because he knows how much she likes being controlled. “say you’re a slut if you want me to fuck you.”
cat blinks. innocent and naïve and small and still a child. beck swallows his apologies for ruining her.
(i’m sorry. you’re like this because of me.)
“i’m a slut,” she purrs.
“good girl.”
;;
ix. that red string around your wrist
he tries not to be nervous or awkward but he is anyways.
she doesn’t mind. she throws a leg over him and straddles him on the bed until he has enough courage to kiss her.
his tongue pushes between her lips. she runs her hands under his shirt, fingertips grazing his skin. he bucks his hips up and she moans against his mouth and that’s all he can take before he flips them over.
he moves his mouth to her neck; she fumbles with his glasses before he takes them off himself, dropping them to the floor with reckless abandonment (this is reckless abandon this is what it feels like to be unsure this is it).
“you’re beautiful,” robbie whispers into tori’s ear, and she smiles against his shoulder and kisses his collarbone.
;;
fin.