You Gotta Make a Burger
by imp

You Gotta Make a Burger

imp

Summary

Post-Telephone porn. (with a Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid shout-out.)

Notes

None

Chapter One

They ditched the pussy wagon for a Honda Civic. It was a sad, sad moment in B's life, but she knew it had to be done. They stopped at the edge of Death Valley for the night, driving the car right off the road and throwing down a few blankets next to it.

"We die from a scorpion or something, I'm blaming you," B said.

That made Gaga smile. "Honey B, we've come too far for some little bug to get us." And then, like flipping a switch, she was asleep.

It took B longer to get there. It was still sinking in, what she'd done. Gaga was the type who belonged in jail, and Beyoncé knew it. Girl was dangerous. Insane.

B wasn't going to leave her, not for anything in the world. In no small part because hell, she was at least as crazy.

She needed to take a walk, get some of this tension out. She sat up – and Gaga's hand came around her arm. "Where are you doing?"

"Just gonna walk around," B said.

"You're worried." Gaga's eyes were sharp in the moonlight. "You know I liked it. You think I'll keep it up."

"I'm not big on having to run again," Beyoncé said. "One mass murder's enough."

"I won't. Not if you don't want me to." Gaga's grip tightened. "Not if it's not for you."

That was all B needed to hear. She pushed Gaga back, pinning her wrists above her head and kissing her hard.

Gaga wiggled frantically, not trying to get away as much as she was just trying to get more of B's touches. They'd only done this once before, right before Gaga was arrested, but her body was practically imprinted into B's memory.

The kiss was brutal. Gaga bit her lower lip and B pushed harder, punishing, sucking Gaga's tongue and digging her nails into the bone at her wrist. "Come on," B whispered against her lips. "Give me more. I know you can."

Gaga bucked against her like she thought she could flip them over. B laughed and held her tighter between her thighs. "You want me to eat you out?" She kissed Gaga's jaw, moving down to her collarbone, shifting her weight so Gaga had to arch her back to fight the way her body was being pulled.

"I always want that."

"Tell me."

But Gaga wasn't not too great at words. "Come on, B. I'd kill the whole border patrol for you." She looked up, makeup smeared in a way that somehow looked sexy instead of just ridiculous. "I'd write you a song."

Both, Beyoncé knew, were true. "Don't move," she said. "Keep your hands up."

Gaga went absolutely still. B kissed her breasts, too softly to do anything but tease. She heard Gaga's breathing speed up, but she didn't say anything.

The images of all the dead bodies kept coming back to her. She felt like a monster from the way it made her breath quicken, made her want to crush Gaga down and keep her.

There was more than one way to do that, she knew. She pressed a hand against Gaga's hip. "Spread your legs." Gaga obeyed, and B moved her hand down to her thigh, pressing up. "More."

Gaga gave a little high-pitched moan, almost complaining, but in the end she obeyed. B ran her hand down Gaga's thigh and pressed her palm against her cunt, feeling how wet she already was. It was easy as breathing to lean down and run her tongue around the outline created by her hand, to slide her fingers down and open them just enough to get her tongue between them.

"Come on, Honey B." Gaga's hand came to rest on her head, gently, fingers barely touching the weave. But it was enough that B could feel it; she leaned down and opened her fingers further, running her tongue over the folds of Gaga's cunt and pressing it against her clit.

"Think you'll ever get tired of all of this and kill me?" she whispered.

It was a real question even though she was saying it now, when Gaga'd give her any response as long as she'd keep going. "No," Gaga said. "No, come on, never. Not you. Come on, B."

But Beyoncé leaned back, watching Gaga's hand fall to the ground. Gaga realized what she'd done, eyes widening, at the same time that B said, "You moved your hands."

Gaga huffed a breath that was half impatience and half genuine anger. "Come on, B. Don't play games."

"This is how it goes. You know it, same as I do." Beyoncé leaned in and kissed Gaga, hot and messy, tongue and teeth all over. "You want me?"

"You know I do."

Gaga was caught in the kiss. Beyoncé took advantage of it, pushing her back hard and straddling her before she had a chance to move. "Then do what I say," she said, and reached back with two fingers, pinching Gaga's clit.

Her hips bucked so hard B was almost thrown off. "Oh, God," she whispered, one hand scrambling for purchase in the dirt. B watched it get under her nails, almost clinically fascinated.

All right, no, that was a damn lie. She was so wet she could barely concentrate on anything else. "Hands up," she said.

Gaga obeyed immediately. B rewarded her by stroking her clit, riding out Gaga's shudders.

From there it was laugh and a smile to get her to come, writhing and yelling B's name. B waited until she was shuddering delicately before kissing her cunt, dirty and open-mouthed. Gaga jerked and moaned, then pulled B up and pressed a finger into her.

B didn't mind coming once, then twice, with only a few minutes of Gaga playing with her. She'd catch a mess of teasing later, but right now it was all whimpers and sighs.

"What bugs me is we're going to be legends with nothing to show for it," Gaga said once they'd both caught their breaths.

B was usually the sensible one. She'd avoided jail, after all. But now she cocked her head, giving Gaga's statement honest thought.

"We could settle down. Get honest jobs," Gaga said to fill the silence.

And, yeah, B knew what she was trying to do. Or succeeding at doing, really. "Hell no," she said. "We got some road between here and Mexico. So let's make something of it."

"You want to try hopping the border with money in the trunk?" Gaga shook her head in the slow way that meant she was already on board with the plan. "That's dangerous, Honey B."

"You got a better plan? Come on. If we do it, then we'll be home free. We can set ourselves up on some beach somewhere."

"And wait for the police to come a-knocking."

"Hey." B ran her hand over Gaga's neck, moving up to cup her cheek and kiss her. She made it gentle, soothing. "The police won't come. They barely know who they're looking for. Once we're in Mexico, we'll be safe."

Gaga closed her eyes. "All right. You keep thinking, B. It's what you're good at."

"There's my girl." B kissed her again, then lay back, pulling Gaga closer. "Better?"

"Snuggling," Gaga said in that ridiculous drawling tone she used when she wanted to sound like some kind of city slicker.

"Shut up," B said, and closed her eyes.

Gaga was the one who fell asleep first, like always. B was happy to lie there in the dark, eyes still shut, dreaming up a plan to get past the border guards.

They'd gotten this far, she thought. They could get a little farther. If it was them against the world – well, it wasn't like they were going to forget how to make the poison anytime soon.