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All In The Game
by botanicalsock

Carmella's found a quiet corner backstage, some random spot in the endless maze that's behind the scenes at any given event. She's stretching, warming up with music blasting in her ears, getting herself into fight mode, when someone taps her sharply on the shoulder, the touch demandingly intrusive, and she turns, irritated, ready to snap at whoever's interrupted her.

But then she stops. Because it's Nikki. Or no, it's Brie. Carmella blinks, because it's both of them, right here in front of her, dark eyes and smooth skin and Carmella suddenly feels the urge to glance around, assess her surroundings, because this is is a very, very quiet corner. There's probably no one within earshot, and these girls don't look like they're playing.

But she pulls off her headphones, raises her chin as defiantly as possible, and says, "Yeah?"

At first they don't reply, standing impassively, but then Brie folds her arms. "I hear you're messing with my sister," she says.

"So?" Carmella replies. "She can't look after herself? She need you to help her out?"

The two of them stare back at her, unblinking. "You mess with my sister," says Brie, "you mess with me."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" Carmella smirks, one hand on her waist, the other gesturing crudely in their direction as she pops her hip showily. "I mean, I've always had a thing for twins."

They both roll their eyes, the movement so simultaneously, creepily identical that for a second Carmella's composure threatens to slip, but she keeps her game face on, watching carefully as they speak.

"How boring," Nikki sneers.

"Everyone always says that," Brie chimes in, the disdain in her voice almost palpable, and Carmella feels as if she's losing her balance.

"We thought you might be less predictable," Nikki adds, with a look so witheringly condescending it's almost like being slapped. She takes Brie's hand and they walk away, not looking back.

Whatever, bitches. Carmella bites down on her tongue to stop the words from slipping out because however pissed she might be, the Bellas in tandem are not to be fucked with.

She needs to watch her step, stay on guard.

* * *

And Carmella would like to say she doesn't give the encounter another thought, is able dismiss their posturing as empty threats, but in truth, she can't get it out of her mind. The way they looked at her, the way they were with each other, they way they're alike but not at all the same.

She pictures them, hand in hand, their closeness so natural yet also somehow indefinable, and she has to shift from one foot to another, squeeze her thighs together and bite her lip, but she needs to focus, because it's showtime.

The adrenaline gets her through, concentrating solely on hitting her moves, taking out her opponent, the fire burning low in her belly only fuelling her. But as soon as her match is over, the restless feeling comes rushing back in, an itch scratching at the back of her mind that won't leave her be.

But she'll hit the showers, get herself off in there, just get it done and move on. Carmella knows she's better than this, better than them.

She quickly checks her phone as she peels off her gear, and there's a text, simply a hotel name, the same place Carmella's staying at, as it happens, and a room number.

Huh, Carmella thinks.

Because that's not what she expected.

* * *

Nikki opens the door of the room, and doesn't say anything, simply leaving Carmella standing there as she turns, walking back across the room without a word.

Carmella takes a step inside, letting the door close behind her.

Brie's sitting back on the bed, propped up on pillows against the headboard, long legs extended, and Nikki spawls down next to her, on her stomach, head at Nikki's feet, looking up at Carmella.

They're both wearing only their underwear; Brie in plain black and Nikki in typically extravagant red lace. Carmella waits, not making any move, keeping herself tensed, hands at her sides, ready on the chance that this is actually some kind of ambush.

"I didn't think she'd show," Brie says.

"I didn't think she had the balls," Nikki adds.

Carmella shrugs, braver than she feels, and grabs her crotch. "I got plenty for both of you, if that's what you want."

They both look at her, eyes narrowed and calculating, and then Nikki sits up, moving beside Brie. She smooths her hair back off her shoulders as Brie reaches out to caress her face and then they lean in. And they're kissing.

And Carmella can't breathe.

* * *

She watches as they touch each other, undressing slowly, Brie reaching around to unfasten Nikki's bra, and Nikki doing the same, almost a mirror image, but not quite.

"You going to just stand there?" one of them asks when they're naked, and for the first time, Carmella isn't entirely sure who is who.

The uncertainty makes her feel dizzy, the bone-deep knowledge that this is a very, very bad idea. But she's too turned on to care, so she takes a breath, and steps forward.

* * *

She's not generally a passive person in bed, preferring to take charge, make sure things are getting done the way she likes, but it's not so easy to assert yourself in the face of the overwhelming presence that is both Bellas.

Carmella's lying on her side, and she tries to roll over, maybe get her hands on Brie, who's busy next to her kissing and biting at Nikki's breasts, but as soon as she tries to move she's grabbed, shoved roughly down on to her back.

"Wait your turn," Nikki snaps, and Carmella would fight back, tell her to go fuck herself, but she gets the very distinct impression that would be utterly pointless. This is happening their way, and if Carmella wants anything out of it, then she needs to let go, let them do their thing. However difficult that might be.

But if there's one thing she's certain of, it's that it's going to be worth it.

* * *

Brie's head is between Carmella's thighs, and she couldn't count how many times she's already come, but Brie's tongue is unceasing, her fingers relentless, finding every most sensitive, over-stimulated place with disturbing precision. Carmella's trapped somewhere between pleasure and pain, nerves so raw it's almost unbearable.

She hears herself whine, pathetically needy, and Brie looks up at her, smiling. Nikki's waiting next to her sister, and she leans over, licking Carmella's taste from Brie's lips.

* * *

It's hours later when Carmella says, weakly, "I have to go." She has no idea how she'll even move, let alone get up and get out of here, but she knows she can't stay.

"Just sleep," Nikki says.

"Don't worry," Brie soothes.

They're either side of her; Brie in front, legs tangled with Carmella's, and Nikki behind, breasts pressed up against Carmella's back.

"I..." Carmella says, but their skin is so warm, and she's tired of fighting.

* * *

When she wakes, the room is empty, the bed beside her cold. There's a note on the nightstand. See you at Backlash, it says, a heart drawn next to the last word with a bright red lip print on top of it.

Carmella tosses it aside, frowning to herself, because this has to have been some kind of strategy, a plan to put her at a disadvantage, but she can't for the life of her understand exactly what the angle is, what she's supposed to be feeling.

But perhaps it's as straightforward as that: nothing so complicated and devious, simply an effort to unsettle her, make her uneasy enough that she's defensive and off her game.

Well, Carmella muses, feeling the pleasingly aching throb between her legs, if that was their goal, then the only thing they've proved is that they don't know her.

At all.

She climbs out of bed and yawns, stretching contentedly as she heads for the shower.

Backlash, she thinks, is only going to be even better.


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