A spin-off on the last motorcycle prompt. This is pure smut, actually no plot whatsoever but with the added motorcycle imagery from the last chapter. So, yeah. If you don't want to taint the motorcycle fic, look away now! I also want to give a shout-out to Redlance's A Moment's Reprieve fic, which heavily inspired part of this.

If she thought that Beca riding the Harley was hot, the image of Beca disembarking from it is positively sinful. Time slows and Chloe's vision tunnels until she, Beca, and that black motorcycle are the only things in the world; she stares with blatant desire as Beca shifts her weight to her right foot, which is planted firmly on the ground, and lifts her left leg to swing it smoothly (and slowly, so unbelievably slowly) up and over the seat of the bike. Because Beca is such a small person and the Harley is so huge, the move should look ridiculous… but instead, it makes Chloe's mouth go dry and grip tighten on her book.

Standing beside the Harley, Beca reclaims her hands from the handlebars and moves them casually to the straps of her helmet. Chloe watches closely as her strong fingers work at the buckle, tugging the strap and pulling it through the restraint. A vision of those same fingers working at Chloe's belt buckle – or at other leather restraints – hits Chloe hard and her breath hitches at the wildly inappropriate (but no less welcome) thought. And when Beca finally pulls off the helmet to reveal porcelain skin, stormy eyes, and long hair (time is moving so slowly that Chloe can count every strand as Beca shakes her hair out) Chloe stops breathing completely.

But Beca's not done yet. She sets her helmet down on the seat, then grasps the collar of her leather jacket with her right hand while the left eases the zipper down, down her body. Even though Chloe is sitting inside, perched on the very edge of her chair (how did that happen?), knuckles white on her book and lower lip snared between her teeth, she can hear every snick snick snick the zipper makes as Beca drags it down with agonizing purpose. Chloe's eyes track Beca's movements until the jacket is completely unzipped, and then her gaze shifts to the low cut of the T-shirt Beca's wearing. Beca shrugs free of the jacket with a roll of her shoulders, then places it next to the helmet on the motorcycle seat.

Beca's hand is warm and solid as she leads Chloe up the stairs. Chloe's head swims and she can't quite believe this is happening. The way Beca had captured her hand and dragged her away from the others in the living room sent her heart racing. And the way Beca looks back at her now, like she's going to positively devour her, makes Chloe's knees turn to jelly.

This is dangerous.

Everything had changed. The instant Chloe had surged forward to press Beca against the door frame, the world had shifted. Her self-control had snapped in half when Beca walked into the Bella house after pulling up on that motorcycle. She had lunged past Stacie, Flo, and Cynthia-Rose, who had melted away as if they weren't even there. She'd rushed at Beca, had shoved her hips back into the doorframe, had pressed close, had thrown their lips together. Beca had responded instantly, pulling her in, groaning at the first touch of their tongues. Chloe had acted on instinct, pressing her thigh between Beca's and moving it up – Beca jerked, breaking the kiss, and had shoved Chloe away. Only to grab her hand and turn purposefully toward the stairs.

And now here they are, climbing those stairs, headed for a bedroom.

Chloe can't quite believe it. Can't believe that Beca wants this – wants her. It doesn't make sense. It's not possible.

And yet. Beca has reached the landing, but instead of leading her up another floor to the attic bedroom, she pulls Chloe left down the hallway. For a second, Chloe sort of resents being led to her own room, but then they're inside and she only registers the sound of the door slamming before she's pressed against it.

"I couldn't wait anymore," Beca growls, "and you don't have a roommate."

Then, Beca's lips are on hers, her hands cupping Chloe's face. Kissing Beca is like nothing Chloe has ever experienced; Beca puts everything she has into her kisses, snatching Chloe's breath away. When a tongue swipes over her lips, Chloe's hands fly from Beca's hips to the back of her shoulders, trying to hold her even closer. Her fingers scrabble over the leather of Beca's jacket – didn't she take that off already? – but then teeth nip at Chloe's lower lip and her mind goes blank.

The whine that escapes Chloe draws a soft sigh from Beca. The hands on Chloe's face drop, teasingly brushing the sides of her breasts as they slide down her body, making Chloe choke on air. At the same time, Beca's lips move from her mouth to trail a burning path down her jaw and to her neck.

Chloe lets her head drop back onto the door with a thud and weaves her hands into dark tresses, holding Beca in place. The soft wetness of a tongue dragging along her neck makes her gasp; the sting of teeth at her pulse point makes her keen.

"Bec, y-yes, just like that," she urges, her eyes rolling back.

And when Beca reaches her earlobe, giving it a gentle tug with her teeth, Chloe's hips shunt forward and her hands turn to claws in Beca's hair. Beca grunts in surprise and – nononono – pulls back.

Beca draws in a shaky breath, her eyes hooded, and Chloe is terrified that she's going to stop, that she's going to say they can't do any more, and that will kill Chloe because she feels like she's going to die if they don't keep going but Beca's shaking her head and reaching to detangle Chloe's hands from her hair and –

And she's pinning Chloe's wrists to the door above their heads and leaning in to whisper against Chloe's lips, "You're breaking my concentration."

Chloe's legs weaken at the raw need in Beca's voice; she feels like she's losing her mind because there's no way this is actually happening. She doesn't believe it.

It's dangerous to believe.

But then Beca's mouth is on her neck again and her wrists are still pinned above her and her body is on fire. She feels Beca working at the same spot just below her jaw, nipping, sucking, and licking at the skin there until she knows she's going to have a massive mark. She doesn't care in the slightest – she wants people to see it and to know what it means. She wants everyone to know it's from Beca.

It seems Beca has the same thought. "You're mine," she breathes after releasing the skin there.

"You're mine, too," Chloe manages to reply between gasps, emotion welling in her chest.

Beca hums, sliding one hand down from Chloe's wrists to let her fingertips brush down an arm, trace over a collarbone, and finally pass over the peak of a breast. Chloe sighs at the fleeting touch and she arches, wanting more, but Beca's hand keeps moving down, around Chloe's hip to the outside of her thigh until Beca crashes their lips together again in a bruising kiss.

It's really not fair. Chloe's senses are overwhelmed – Beca's wandering touch on her thigh, Beca's tongue in her mouth, Beca's groans and whimpers in her ears, even the smell of Beca's perfume in her nose. Her fingers twitch, eager to reach out and touch Beca in return, but Beca's other hand is still holding both of hers in place above them.

Perhaps sensing her desire, Beca presses even closer until there's no space between them and Chloe can feel everywhere their bodies touch. Beca's fingers scrape down and back up the outside of her thigh, as if waiting for permission to slide between her legs. Chloe's hips buck involuntarily at the thought and she lifts her leg slightly, wondering if Beca wants her to wrap it around her waist.

Beca laughs, a delighted sound of surprise that makes a fresh wave of affection for her wash over Chloe. She can't remember the last time she's heard Beca laugh like that. Beca finally releases her wrists and puts both hands on Chloe's hips to press her firmly against the door (though how much more strain the door can handle, Chloe doesn't know). Chloe drops her arms to rest on Beca's shoulders, confused, until Beca shifts her stance.

A thigh moves smoothly between her own and presses up.

Chloe gasps sharply and her body jumps. She's so shocked that she actually glances down to make sure she isn't imagining it. But she isn't. Even though her mind says her eyes are lying, even though she can't possibly believe it, Beca's thigh is definitely between her legs. And then Beca tugs on her hips, pulling her along that thigh in a smooth motion.

Chloe moans and her hands clutch at Beca's shoulders, holding tight as Beca encourages the rolling of her hips. For a second, Chloe thinks her legs are going to give out completely, but then Beca's lifting with her thigh, pressing into her with every tug. Chloe gives in and lets herself grind down, riding Beca's thigh, a knot starting to form low in her stomach.

Something in her snaps; she starts tugging at Beca's jacket, trying to lift it away and off – she needs to feel Beca against her, needs to see her. Beca figures out what she's doing and – nonono – pulls away. Chloe wants to cry out at the loss of contact, but then Beca grabs her hands and moves them to the zipper of the leather jacket.

Everything slows. Fingers trembling, Chloe tugs on the zipper, easing it down. A part of her wants to rip it down, to strip the jacket away from Beca's body as quickly as possible, but she forces herself to draw out the moment. She tugs the tab down so slowly that she can hear every snick snick snick the zipper makes as it falls to reveal the low-cut T-shirt underneath.

Once the jacket is unzipped, she lets her hands wander under it to Beca's stomach, then around to her sides to brush her back over her shirt. She feels Beca's every jagged gasp, feels her skin twitch and jump where she's ticklish.

"Chlo… please…" the strain in Beca's voice catches her by surprise; Chloe looks up to see something like desperation in Beca's face.

She really, really can't believe this is happening.

Everything speeds up again. A bolt of electricity shoots between Chloe's legs and she shoves the jacket off Beca's shoulders, where it catches until Beca reaches behind herself to pull it off the rest of the way. She casts it aside haphazardly and Chloe hears it knock something over, but she doesn't care, because now Beca's taking off that T-shirt and tossing it right behind her jacket.

The sight of Beca right then, wearing only jeans and a red, lacy bra as if she'd been planning this, sends Chloe's mind spiraling. She lunges, hands grasping at Beca's hips, and backs her up into the next solid surface she can find. She ends up pinning Beca to her dresser, the lotion bottles on top tipping over with the impact. Beca hisses when her back hits the wood, but in the next instant, her fingers are fumbling with Chloe's blouse.

Chloe surges forward, reattaching their lips even as she feels Beca working her blouse out from where it's tucked into her pants. The rush of cool air when Beca tugs it free makes her shiver and sigh. Immediately, fingers ghost under the material to trail along her back, then her sides, and Chloe knows her skin must be melting away from where Beca's touched.

Chloe moves her mouth to Beca's neck, fully intending to leave a dark mark on the skin there to match her own, but the first scrape of her teeth draws a strangled gasp from Beca, and suddenly her shirt is being lifted. She steps back, helping Beca to take her shirt off the rest of the way until they're both in their bras.

She leans forward again and the first brush of their stomachs together tears a groan from her throat. Beca feels amazing against her, and Chloe wraps her arms around her and pulls her close, desperate to get Beca into her very skin. Beca's hands wander up and down her back, then skim over a ticklish spot; reflexively, Chloe jerks, and Beca's hips buck forward in response.

"Bec –" Chloe grunts, stunned at how good it feels to have Beca pressing into her like that. Beca whimpers and fingers fumble with the clasp on Chloe's bra until she feels it give. Without thinking twice, Chloe eases Beca away from the dresser to unclasp her bra, and then they separate to remove the garments completely.

Chloe's eyes land immediately on Beca's heaving chest, taking in as much detail as possible in case this is the only time she gets to look. However, her attempt to memorize the view is interrupted when Beca presses a hand against her back and stoops forward to wrap her mouth around straining skin.

Crying out, Chloe arches into Beca and tangles her fingers in her hair, holding her in place. It's almost too much too early, but the fact that Beca Mitchell is worshipping her body shoves away all other sensation besides delirious pleasure. And when Beca switches to the other side, Chloe feels as if she's died and gone to heaven.

Except she needs to touch Beca, too, so she pulls Beca up and just smiles in response to the question in her eyes. She moves her hands to Beca's chest, first tracing over her collarbones with light fingertips and watching Beca's eyes flutter. Biting her lip to keep from making sounds of her own – she wants to be able to hear Beca – Chloe takes a deep breath through her nose and trails her fingers down over skin she's been thinking about since the Baker Hall showers.

Beca's response to her touch is astonishing; she gasps and presses forward even as Chloe moves closer to reunite their lips. She drags her thumbs over taut peaks again and again, causing small mewling noises to spill from Beca's mouth and into her own. Fireworks erupt in Chloe's mind with each noise Beca makes and she wants to draw as many of those sounds out as possible. Even as Chloe's head starts to spin from lack of air, Beca pulls away from the kiss to rest their foreheads together, her breath fanning over Chloe's face as she pants.

She guides Chloe's hands away from her chest and instead around to her back, her own hands moving along the same path on Chloe's skin. They fall into a sort of hug, chests touching and igniting sparks in Chloe's stomach. As it had before, everything slows.

"Why'd you stop?" Chloe asks raggedly, not understanding.

It takes Beca a moment to answer, and when she does, it's in broken gasps. "It's…Chlo… I think I might be in love with you."

Chloe's pretty sure her heart stops beating. Beca's words trigger some sort of something in her mind, maybe a memory just out of reach, but she ignores that in favor if the present moment. Beca. In love with her.

For the first time, Chloe believes this is really happening.

There's no question of where this is going now, no question of it being some sick joke. Something shatters in her, then reassembles, as if Beca had somehow broken her with those words and then put her back together.

She and Beca move at the same time. She cups Beca's face at the same time Beca flips their positions so that Chloe's the one pressed against the dresser as their tongues meet over and over. Chloe can't think about anything besides Beca, Beca, Beca, and how right this feels, so she's confused when, for a strange moment, Beca seems to be getting shorter. Chloe reluctantly pulls away and forces her eyes open in time to see Beca dropping to her knees in front of her.

Heat shoots between Chloe's legs like lighting and she has to reach behind herself to plant her hands on the dresser, needing some kind of anchor. She has no idea what her face looks like, but she imagines she must look dazed. Beca only smiles up at her gently.

"Can I?" she asks, and Chloe almost wants to cry. She feels like she'll combust if Beca doesn't.

Not trusting her voice, Chloe merely reaches for Beca's hands and guides them to her belt buckle.

This is really happening.

And the sinful image of Beca's lithe fingers working at the buckle, grasping at the leather and tugging it through the restraint, makes Chloe's center throb almost painfully. Beca makes quick work of it, unbuckling the belt and popping the button on Chloe's jeans so casually that it makes Chloe's heart jump to her throat.

Beca eases down the zipper on her jeans, leaning forward to press a single kiss against the black underwear revealed. Chloe gasps and her jaw clenches at the minimal contact; she runs a hand desperately through her own hair, feeling as though Beca's driving her insane.

Beca glances up at her, her expression pained, as if she's holding herself back, and Chloe is seized with the urge to get Beca's pants off, to press their bodies together fully and end the frustration.

So, she does. She draws Beca back up, and the next moments pass in a frenzied blur.

She remembers fumbling for the button on Beca's jeans.

She remembers Beca's hands brushing her bare thighs as Beca liberated her of her own pants.

She remembers Beca practically throwing her onto the bed.

She remembers basking in every inch of skin revealed as Beca stripped in front of her.

And now, she feels Beca nestled between her open legs, smirking down at her. She feels Beca against her, hot and wet, rocking into her. Chloe feels her own body drawing tight, preparing to snap, as Beca leans down over her, their skin sliding together. Chloe closes her eyes as she prepares herself to feel Beca's lips on hers, to feel Beca's hand sliding down between them, to feel Beca's fingers dipping down and skimming along –

A shocking, blaring noise rips through her mind.

Chloe's eyes fly open and she jerks awake violently. For a second, she's completely disoriented, the sound of the car horn that had woken her fading from her ears. She lies on her back for a moment, angry at whoever had released such an obnoxious sound – don't they realize it's the middle of the night? – before she remembers her dream.

Beca.

And. Oh.

Chloe sits up in bed so quickly she's surprised she doesn't get whiplash. She looks around her dark room frantically, hopefully, but she's completely alone.

She falls back with a tired sigh, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. Her sheets are tangled down by her feet, shoved away by her tossing and turning. She leaves them there; her body is still ridiculously overheated.

It had all felt so real.

Soft lips against hers. Hot skin under her fingertips. A mouth on her breast. Beca's body above her, grinding down.

Beca, wanting her. Beca, in love with her.

Something hot coils low in Chloe's stomach at the thought. Her legs shift, and she squeezes her thighs together tightly; she has to press her lips together to stop the sudden whimper elicited by the simple movement.

She realizes just how real the dream had felt.

She's overwhelmed with the urge to reach down and finish the dream. It surprises her, how badly she wants to. Her hand is already traveling south before her logic kicks in and she pauses. She knows how inappropriate it would be to give in to her body, because she knows exactly who she would be imagining. It doesn't seem right to make Beca the unknowing star of a late-night fantasy brought on by some crazy (but wonderful) dream. But then her center starts to ache, and she remembers how often she's done this before and that really, it's too late now to consider the morality of it when Beca's already played the main character of her fantasies once that night.

And just like that, her will crumbles into dust.

As if it had ever really been an option to not give in. (If she's honest with herself, she'd known this would happen the instant she remembered the dream.)

(This is dangerous.)

With a sigh that both settles and invigorates her, Chloe closes her eyes to see Beca. She's lying stretched out beside Chloe, her gaze as dark and intense as it had been in the dream. Chloe sighs again, smiling blissfully at the sight of Beca in her bed again. She feels Beca's fingers playing with her own, smoothing over the back of her hand as lips brush against the tip of her ear. Chloe shivers; even in her mind, Beca's touch drives her insane.

"Now, where were we?" Beca's voice is husky and low, filled with promises of things to come.

The lips at Chloe's ear move to press a kiss under her jaw at the same time nails lightly drag up her arm to draw patterns on the skin at her shoulder. Chloe's toes curl into the mattress and her heart flies to her throat. She feels Beca smile against her neck as she answers her own question. "Oh, I remember now… do you want me to keep going? So I can touch you?"

Chloe's breath catches in her throat audibly, making Beca laugh. Gasping in the suddenly airless room, Chloe finally manages to breathe out a shaky, "Yes."

Lips again press into the side of her neck, and Chloe feels the fingers on her shoulder trace over her collarbone before they draw a line down between her breasts. Beca's hand descends further to smooth over her stomach, drawing a shudder from deep within Chloe.

"Do you like that?"

She can only nod at Beca's question, overwhelmed. Beca laughs again, sounding both awed and amused. Her touch keeps trailing around Chloe's stomach, then up between her breasts, then back down teasingly, never reaching to where Chloe needs her.

"Beca, please…" she whispers into the darkness, fingers bunching the fitted sheet beneath her.

She feels Beca shift, is sure that the bed dips with the movement, and turns to see Beca propped up on an elbow and looking down at her.

"Sometimes," Beca says softly, her eyes turning gentle, "you make me crazy. Sometimes, it's all I can do to stop myself from…" and the touch finally moves up from her stomach to trail over the peak of a breast almost lazily. Chloe's mouth drops open silently and she arches into the touch, gasping when the pressure there increases.

Again and again, she feels the phantom brush of fingers against her, prodding and kneading, accompanied by the feel of Beca's breath ghosting down over her face. She feels another wave crash between her legs and her body rolls in search of friction as a shiver travels from her center and spools outward. Chloe's hands curl into fists, her fingertips burning with longing to reach to someone they can't touch.

The bed shifts again, and Chloe is sure she feels Beca's weight settle on top of her hips, a knee on either side, pressing her down into the bed. She chokes down her groan, knowing she has to be quiet, but she can't stop her hips from tilting up into Beca's. Beca does groan, a deep, vulgar sound that ignites Chloe's skin and sends arousal pooling between her thighs.

She sees every detail of Beca's face, taking in the softness of her eyes and the gentle smirk on her lips. "I know how much you want me," she hears Beca say breathlessly, her touch sliding from Chloe's breasts back down to her stomach. "I see it every time you look at me."

Chloe squirms under Beca, the throbbing between her thighs becoming desperate. Fingers slip under the hem of her pajama shirt and she melts, unable to do anything but wait. "Why do you think I bought the motorcycle?" Sure fingers travel north, circling her belly button before skimming higher. "It's for you." They brush the sides of her ribs, making her draw in heaving breaths. "Everything has always been for you." They draw over taut peaks repeatedly, pulling harsh gasps from Chloe with each swipe.

"Bec – I'm so – I need –"

"Shh. It's okay." Beca looms over her, eyes alight and expression soft. "I won't make you wait much longer." And Chloe is sure that the presence above her is solid and real, as she feels Beca shift her weight to lean forward and hover over her lips. Beca's hair falls around their faces, shielding them from the rest of the world, and it's so easy for Chloe to lose herself in the kiss when Beca finally gives it to her. It's so easy for Chloe to detangle her fingers from the sheets and weave them through Beca's hair. She can feel its softness, can smell Beca's shampoo, can swallow the sounds Beca lets loose when Chloe rocks up into her. She trails her own hands down over Beca's shoulders and back, not wanting to miss anything or forget how vibrant this is.

In the moment, this is real.

This is dangerous.

But when Beca pulls back and the words, "I wish I could feel you," fill the space between them, Chloe shoves her worries aside. This time, she can't stop the whine that escapes her lips as her hips cant upward uselessly. Smiling, Beca slides off her and Chloe's hands fall to rest on her own stomach, continuing the trails Beca's had made. Her body tenses then relaxes as she snares her lower lip between her teeth, head lifting off the pillow an inch before dropping back down.

She's sure she feels Beca pressing against her side again, staring down at her. When a touch lands on the outside of Chloe's thigh, she shudders and her entire body clenches; she can't remember the last time she's been this worked up, and her self-control is wearing thin. She knows this won't last much longer, as much as she wants it to.

"How much do you want me?" the question makes Chloe's back arch and her hips jerk.

She chokes back a moan, then breathes out her answer: "More than you could ever know."

The hand on her thigh slides over to trace along the inside hem of her shorts, leaving twitching skin in its path.

"Why don't you take those off? So I can see?"

Chloe thinks she's going to explode; her body is wound so tightly that she knows it's only going to take the smallest brush of fingers to do the job. She grabs the waistband of her shorts and shoves down, sitting up slightly to shimmy them down to her ankles before taking them off completely and dropping them beside her bed. She lays back down, hands resting again on her stomach, her body thrumming with anticipation.

"Let me watch you. Please." Beca sounds breathless now, her voice hoarse and dripping with need. Chloe lets one hand trail down, down to land between her legs and she presses the flat of her fingers against herself. She bites her lip again to muffle her own sighs, but Beca gets to be as loud as she wants; Chloe feels the vibration of Beca's low moan from next to her as she rubs at her underwear, feeling wet heat even through the cotton.

"Chloe…" it's a whisper, but it still shatters the earth. Chloe hears herself whimpering as she presses harder over the fabric, three fingers now circling. Her other hand latches onto her pillow so tightly she's amazed she hasn't torn a hole in her pillowcase.

From next to her, she hears Beca's rapid breathing, can picture her dark eyes, flushed face, and desperate expression, just like she remembers from the dream. That image makes her give in; Chloe pulls her hand back, only to find the waistband of her underwear before sliding under it.

She grunts and her body jolts when her fingers are coated in hot wetness immediately; she's more than ready. Her touch drifts up and down, circling and stroking, beyond her conscious control. She can't stop the small noises and gasps now as her hand moves against her.

"Just like that," she hears (or maybe she says, she isn't sure anymore), and her hips lift up against her hand. She imagines it's Beca, pretends there's a solid and familiar body above her to rock and writhe against, and her hips start to move of their own accord as her fingers circle with increasing pressure.

She hears her own breaths, ragged and sharp, and over the sound of her pants, a whispered, "I want to move inside you."

Chloe chokes back a cry as her hips jerk, muscles tightening and relaxing. Her fingers stutter in their movements, but only for a moment before she lets them drift down further and into soft heat. Her other hand releases the pillow to caress her chest and stomach almost idly.

"God, I want to taste you."

Chloe's body buzzes and her mouth falls open; she feels drunk. It's so close, she knows, like a forgotten word on the tip of her tongue. She just needs some reminder, some final push to send her tumbling over into the bright abyss. Her hips are rocking now, and her is hand moving, pushing and pulling, stroking and rubbing with a mind of its own.

She feels so close that she wants to scream, but forces herself to stay quiet, locked in limbo. There's a part of her hanging on, not letting herself fall, wishing that it really were Beca with her, in her, knowing that when she finishes, it'll all disappear. But then she hears Beca yet again.

"It's okay," her favorite voice says gently. "You can do it. It's still for me. It's okay."

Chloe's hips lock in place even as her fingers continue to move. It starts at her center and radiates out; she feels herself clench, feels her legs stiffen and back seize, her free hand ball into a fist and brow furrow. She's hanging there for a moment until, with one final press of her hand, she falls.

A sonic boom crashes through her in pulses, coating her insides with wave after wave of pleasure as her hips jerk wildly and her back arches, heels digging into the mattress. She turns her face at the last second, forcing her cries into her pillow, muffling them. Her fingers still move between her legs, prolonging it as much as possible until she gives out, melting into the bed.

After, her body hums and her chest heaves in search of air. She slowly pulls her hand back from her underwear and lets her legs fall closed to one side. She lies there for a moment, chasing the rapidly fading thrill until her heartbeat slows. She opens her eyes for the first time since this all began and stares at the ceiling, not wanting to look around her room. Not yet. Even though she knows it to be the case, she doesn't want to see how alone she is.

She wants to hold onto Beca for another minute, another second, another instant. Anything to keep Beca's words in her mind and hands on her body. She wants to remember what it's like for Beca to be hers.

She knows this is dangerous.

But she can't help it.