RPF - Jessie James/ Marion Raven [Singers]
Title: Nights in the Industry
Fandom: RPF - Singers
Pairing: Jessie james / Marion Raven
Rating: pg -13
Words: ~1700
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, borrowing real people's personas based on my personal perceptions of them. Not intended for profit or offense.
Note: this was made for micked18 for making me a very nice gay Demi rainbow background. I Love it. She also made a fan video for these two characters, to get you all excited. And i've decided to include some really hot pics of them too. Enjoy.
Jessie James
Marion Raven (she was in M2M, way back when LOL)
yes, she is sitting on a pile of naked ladies. i love it too.
And so here it is, micked18's video of the two, to Lady Gaga's "Paparazzi"
and now, on with fic. I hope you like it.
The alcohol burned Jessie’s throat. She certainly wasn’t a virgin to the elixir, but she still felt a little uncomfortable throwing back shots in front of company executives. After catching the disapproving eye of some overprotective manager of some pretty little upstart (like herself?) she turns on her 3 inch heels, slams down the shot glass on some passing waiter’s empty tray, and heads to the balcony for some fresh air.
The atmosphere of pimping is too much to handle within the New York loft. The release party was less a party in celebration of a fellow pop/rock singer’s sophomore album and more of a capitalist investment gathering. Jessie was urged to attend by her manager, who is still inside hoping to hit up contacts, drop names and sign others into binding agreements.
She realizes that a few years ago she would have died to be able to attend a fancy shindig like this. But a few months in Hollywood have already taught her to be cautious of promises from famous lips and tips of drinks held by powerful and rich hands. She feels so out of place in this business - she just wants to make music. Why is it always so complicated?
The cold air blowing across the balcony sends shivers down her spine - this dress is way too skimpy, what was she thinking? She wraps her arms around herself and wishes for a moment she were a smoker, sucking hot smoky air into her lungs to fight the cold.
She feels a touch on her bare shoulder and turns around to she a beautiful, tall brunette - she looks confident, like she’s made it, but Jessie can’t place her.
“Looks like you missed the memo about New York evenings in the fall,” she says in a voice that is smooth and sensual. Jessie shivers again. Without another word, the mystery woman slips off her pretty black shawl and leans in close to Jessie to wrap it around her shoulders.
“Much better, yes? My name is Marion, by the way. And you are...?”
Jessie is still a little sidetracked by the smoothness of this chick, so it takes her a few seconds to say thanks and give her name. She watches as Marion tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, then moves to lean over the railing and gaze down at the street lights 30 stories below.
“Are you an artist or a manager, Jessie?”
“I’m a singer, yeah. Its kinda why I came out here for refuge - management makes my skin crawl. I’m gonna assume it’s the same for you, Marion?” Jessie really likes the way the name feels on her lips.
“Your assumption is correct. My manager pushed me to attend this party based solely on the fact that I share the same genre as the artist. I don’t know anyone here.”
“Let’s ditch this place then.” Jessie feels impulsive and brave; maybe from the alcohol, or maybe from the sexy way Marion keeps tucking her hair behind her ear and fluttering her eyelashes.
Marion smiles an achingly sexy smile and asks, “Do you have a place in mind?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Let’s go then.”
The older brunette follows Jessie through the crowd, not even bothering to tell their managers they’re leaving, and head out into the New York streets. It takes them about 5 minutes to come across a club with pounding baselines pumping through walls - they walk right in, flashing the bouncer matching grins as they hold hands.
The techno trance music is reverberating in their chests as they walk up to the bar and order drinks. They can’t hear each other very well anymore, so they rely on soft touches to get the other’s attention and lean in close, brushing lips to ears to explain how much they love the song that fills the club.
They drink a little too much and dance a little too close, their hands run over each other in a way that is no longer for show. Their bodies are so close that their short dresses keep riding up their hips. Jessie is a little afraid and worries about her inexperience; she’s not really the “party girl” that her image may suggest, she’d much rather just stay at home in a nice oversized shirt and chat on her laptop and watch reruns.
They stay grinding to the music for such a long time that Jessie feels her bones ache from all the exertion. Her knees feel weak when Marion cups her ass to bring her closer to her moving hips. They haven’t really looked at each other since they fell into the music on the dance floor.
Marion’s eyes are focused on their joined hips, so Jessie brings her hand up to cup her chin - searching her eyes for some clue as to what she’s thinking - what’s going on, what’s going to happen. Marion’s eyes are reflecting a darkness that Jessie is sure must be present in her own eyes. Her eyelids are heavy like she’s tired, but the way the long lashes flutter whenever she blinks sends a chill through Jessie’s hot body. Jessie leans in closer, touching her nose to Marion’s. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply preparing to lean in even closer and -
“Fuck!!” Jessie jumps back in surprise as she feels a cold wetness splash down her backside.
“Shit sorry, honey! I was pushed! I’m sorry!” Another patron of the bar is yelling apologetically over the music as she clumsily tries to wipe off her drink from Jessie’s lower back and ass.
“Hey! Stop, it’s… fine. It’s fine. Just stop doing that, please!” She can tell the other woman is drunk because she is trying desperately to wipe the drink back into her cup.
She grabs Marion’s hand and rushes through the crowd to the bathroom at the back. Squeezing her way through the crowded restroom to the sink, she turns around in the mirror to observe the dark stain on her black dress.
“Fuck. Well, I knew this dress was a mistake. This kinda stuff always happens to me. Always.”
Marion looks like she’s about to laugh, but holds back. “I think your night is over sweetie. That dress looks expensive.”
“It WAS! My manager bought it for me specifically for tonight. I told him I have my own sexy dresses at home, but he wouldn’t hear it. This is shit. I was having fun.”
“Where’re you staying? You’re gonna need to get that clean in a hurry.”
“I’m staying with my manager, and he has the address. I don’t even remember the name of the hotel. I guess I’ll have to go back to the party and find him, ugh.”
Marion is silent for a few moments as she watches Jessie try to blot the stain with paper towels.
“Why don’t you come to my hotel? It’s nearby, and I’ve got some magic cleaner that works wonders on alcohol.”
Jessie cocks her head at the offer, making a show of thinking. Her eyes met Marion’s in the mirror. They’re dark again. “All right.”
They catch a cab to the hotel, and Jessie follows Marion silently up to her room. Outside of the intoxicating rhythm and bright confusing lights of the dance club, Jessie recognizes what she is feeling. And she recognizes the pattern that this evening is displaying. She has a feeling she knows what will be coming soon, but tries to keep her mind focused on the present.
She walks straight into Marion’s bathroom and strips off her dress, never hesitating. She runs it under the sink and tries to gently squeeze out the alcohol stain. Marion walks in with a clear plastic bottle in her hand. She smiles warmly and steps beside Jessie, taking the wet garment in her hand and applying some liquid from her bottle onto it, then rubbing it in. It doesn’t soap up like Jessie imagines it should.
“What is that stuff?”
Marion smirks. “My mother invented it. It’s a special cleaning agent common in Norway, my home. And a mixture of olive oil and lemon juice. Smells good right?”
“Kinda, but I can’t imagine anything with olive oil in it actually removing stains.”
“No, it doesn’t seem logical, but here it is, “ she shrugs in agreement.
Jessie hangs up her dress in the bathroom to dry and realizes that Marion is looking at her. Again. Jessie is sure now what is going to happen, and is tired of waiting for it.
She walks quickly to where Marion is leaning against the door jam and pounces on her lips, which still taste sweet and strong from their drinks. She feels Marion place her hands wholly on her back and ass. They stumble backwards into the room and Marion’s back hits the dresser, before she becomes the aggressor and rushes Jessie to the bed. Whatever is left of their clothing is quickly shed.
They’re breathing comes in gasps and moans, fingers buried in hair and pulling tight, feet pushing against the mattress and running along the skin of calves. They toss and turn and fight for dominance but ultimately relax in a way they haven’t been able to since coming to New York away from their homes. Jessie releases a part of her frustration in every kiss, in every bite, every lick. Marion makes her feel like she’s floating, like the bed is lying 10 feet below them. It’s a dizzying feeling and Jessie loses herself in it. The night slips away unnoticed.
When the morning comes, and the calls from their managers, Jessie doesn’t regret a thing. She just puts on her wrinkled but stain-free dress and snaps on her heels, borrows some make-up from Marion and picks up her purse to leave.
“I’ll call a cab for you.” Marion remarks as she reaches out a hand to grasp Jessie’s wrist. “I thoroughly enjoyed myself last night,” she says before she leans in and presses a kiss to Jessie’s lips. Jessie smiles and says the same.
Jessie steps out the door to go to the lobby and await her ride. They smile one last time, and never see other again. Jessie is fine with that. She’s actually getting used it.
Fandom: RPF - Singers
Pairing: Jessie james / Marion Raven
Rating: pg -13
Words: ~1700
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, borrowing real people's personas based on my personal perceptions of them. Not intended for profit or offense.
Note: this was made for micked18 for making me a very nice gay Demi rainbow background. I Love it. She also made a fan video for these two characters, to get you all excited. And i've decided to include some really hot pics of them too. Enjoy.
Jessie James
Marion Raven (she was in M2M, way back when LOL)
yes, she is sitting on a pile of naked ladies. i love it too.
And so here it is, micked18's video of the two, to Lady Gaga's "Paparazzi"
Click to viewand now, on with fic. I hope you like it.
The alcohol burned Jessie’s throat. She certainly wasn’t a virgin to the elixir, but she still felt a little uncomfortable throwing back shots in front of company executives. After catching the disapproving eye of some overprotective manager of some pretty little upstart (like herself?) she turns on her 3 inch heels, slams down the shot glass on some passing waiter’s empty tray, and heads to the balcony for some fresh air.
The atmosphere of pimping is too much to handle within the New York loft. The release party was less a party in celebration of a fellow pop/rock singer’s sophomore album and more of a capitalist investment gathering. Jessie was urged to attend by her manager, who is still inside hoping to hit up contacts, drop names and sign others into binding agreements.
She realizes that a few years ago she would have died to be able to attend a fancy shindig like this. But a few months in Hollywood have already taught her to be cautious of promises from famous lips and tips of drinks held by powerful and rich hands. She feels so out of place in this business - she just wants to make music. Why is it always so complicated?
The cold air blowing across the balcony sends shivers down her spine - this dress is way too skimpy, what was she thinking? She wraps her arms around herself and wishes for a moment she were a smoker, sucking hot smoky air into her lungs to fight the cold.
She feels a touch on her bare shoulder and turns around to she a beautiful, tall brunette - she looks confident, like she’s made it, but Jessie can’t place her.
“Looks like you missed the memo about New York evenings in the fall,” she says in a voice that is smooth and sensual. Jessie shivers again. Without another word, the mystery woman slips off her pretty black shawl and leans in close to Jessie to wrap it around her shoulders.
“Much better, yes? My name is Marion, by the way. And you are...?”
Jessie is still a little sidetracked by the smoothness of this chick, so it takes her a few seconds to say thanks and give her name. She watches as Marion tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, then moves to lean over the railing and gaze down at the street lights 30 stories below.
“Are you an artist or a manager, Jessie?”
“I’m a singer, yeah. Its kinda why I came out here for refuge - management makes my skin crawl. I’m gonna assume it’s the same for you, Marion?” Jessie really likes the way the name feels on her lips.
“Your assumption is correct. My manager pushed me to attend this party based solely on the fact that I share the same genre as the artist. I don’t know anyone here.”
“Let’s ditch this place then.” Jessie feels impulsive and brave; maybe from the alcohol, or maybe from the sexy way Marion keeps tucking her hair behind her ear and fluttering her eyelashes.
Marion smiles an achingly sexy smile and asks, “Do you have a place in mind?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Let’s go then.”
The older brunette follows Jessie through the crowd, not even bothering to tell their managers they’re leaving, and head out into the New York streets. It takes them about 5 minutes to come across a club with pounding baselines pumping through walls - they walk right in, flashing the bouncer matching grins as they hold hands.
The techno trance music is reverberating in their chests as they walk up to the bar and order drinks. They can’t hear each other very well anymore, so they rely on soft touches to get the other’s attention and lean in close, brushing lips to ears to explain how much they love the song that fills the club.
They drink a little too much and dance a little too close, their hands run over each other in a way that is no longer for show. Their bodies are so close that their short dresses keep riding up their hips. Jessie is a little afraid and worries about her inexperience; she’s not really the “party girl” that her image may suggest, she’d much rather just stay at home in a nice oversized shirt and chat on her laptop and watch reruns.
They stay grinding to the music for such a long time that Jessie feels her bones ache from all the exertion. Her knees feel weak when Marion cups her ass to bring her closer to her moving hips. They haven’t really looked at each other since they fell into the music on the dance floor.
Marion’s eyes are focused on their joined hips, so Jessie brings her hand up to cup her chin - searching her eyes for some clue as to what she’s thinking - what’s going on, what’s going to happen. Marion’s eyes are reflecting a darkness that Jessie is sure must be present in her own eyes. Her eyelids are heavy like she’s tired, but the way the long lashes flutter whenever she blinks sends a chill through Jessie’s hot body. Jessie leans in closer, touching her nose to Marion’s. She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply preparing to lean in even closer and -
“Fuck!!” Jessie jumps back in surprise as she feels a cold wetness splash down her backside.
“Shit sorry, honey! I was pushed! I’m sorry!” Another patron of the bar is yelling apologetically over the music as she clumsily tries to wipe off her drink from Jessie’s lower back and ass.
“Hey! Stop, it’s… fine. It’s fine. Just stop doing that, please!” She can tell the other woman is drunk because she is trying desperately to wipe the drink back into her cup.
She grabs Marion’s hand and rushes through the crowd to the bathroom at the back. Squeezing her way through the crowded restroom to the sink, she turns around in the mirror to observe the dark stain on her black dress.
“Fuck. Well, I knew this dress was a mistake. This kinda stuff always happens to me. Always.”
Marion looks like she’s about to laugh, but holds back. “I think your night is over sweetie. That dress looks expensive.”
“It WAS! My manager bought it for me specifically for tonight. I told him I have my own sexy dresses at home, but he wouldn’t hear it. This is shit. I was having fun.”
“Where’re you staying? You’re gonna need to get that clean in a hurry.”
“I’m staying with my manager, and he has the address. I don’t even remember the name of the hotel. I guess I’ll have to go back to the party and find him, ugh.”
Marion is silent for a few moments as she watches Jessie try to blot the stain with paper towels.
“Why don’t you come to my hotel? It’s nearby, and I’ve got some magic cleaner that works wonders on alcohol.”
Jessie cocks her head at the offer, making a show of thinking. Her eyes met Marion’s in the mirror. They’re dark again. “All right.”
They catch a cab to the hotel, and Jessie follows Marion silently up to her room. Outside of the intoxicating rhythm and bright confusing lights of the dance club, Jessie recognizes what she is feeling. And she recognizes the pattern that this evening is displaying. She has a feeling she knows what will be coming soon, but tries to keep her mind focused on the present.
She walks straight into Marion’s bathroom and strips off her dress, never hesitating. She runs it under the sink and tries to gently squeeze out the alcohol stain. Marion walks in with a clear plastic bottle in her hand. She smiles warmly and steps beside Jessie, taking the wet garment in her hand and applying some liquid from her bottle onto it, then rubbing it in. It doesn’t soap up like Jessie imagines it should.
“What is that stuff?”
Marion smirks. “My mother invented it. It’s a special cleaning agent common in Norway, my home. And a mixture of olive oil and lemon juice. Smells good right?”
“Kinda, but I can’t imagine anything with olive oil in it actually removing stains.”
“No, it doesn’t seem logical, but here it is, “ she shrugs in agreement.
Jessie hangs up her dress in the bathroom to dry and realizes that Marion is looking at her. Again. Jessie is sure now what is going to happen, and is tired of waiting for it.
She walks quickly to where Marion is leaning against the door jam and pounces on her lips, which still taste sweet and strong from their drinks. She feels Marion place her hands wholly on her back and ass. They stumble backwards into the room and Marion’s back hits the dresser, before she becomes the aggressor and rushes Jessie to the bed. Whatever is left of their clothing is quickly shed.
They’re breathing comes in gasps and moans, fingers buried in hair and pulling tight, feet pushing against the mattress and running along the skin of calves. They toss and turn and fight for dominance but ultimately relax in a way they haven’t been able to since coming to New York away from their homes. Jessie releases a part of her frustration in every kiss, in every bite, every lick. Marion makes her feel like she’s floating, like the bed is lying 10 feet below them. It’s a dizzying feeling and Jessie loses herself in it. The night slips away unnoticed.
When the morning comes, and the calls from their managers, Jessie doesn’t regret a thing. She just puts on her wrinkled but stain-free dress and snaps on her heels, borrows some make-up from Marion and picks up her purse to leave.
“I’ll call a cab for you.” Marion remarks as she reaches out a hand to grasp Jessie’s wrist. “I thoroughly enjoyed myself last night,” she says before she leans in and presses a kiss to Jessie’s lips. Jessie smiles and says the same.
Jessie steps out the door to go to the lobby and await her ride. They smile one last time, and never see other again. Jessie is fine with that. She’s actually getting used it.