fic: the inescapable us (gl, rps - crystal chappell/jessica leccia)
Title: The Inescapable Us
Author: ripptyd
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: GL - CC & JL (RPF)
Word Count: 566
Summary: She’s kissing you so hard and fast that you think you’ll just die if she keeps going. But you know you’ll die if she stops.
Author's Note: If you don't like RPF/S, then don't read it. Seriously. Based on THIS song.
The first time you see her, she’s walking down the hallway of the studio. It’s a blur, and she’s shuffling through some papers, and her thumb is working over her cell phone quickly. But she’s stopped a few steps from you and making her way towards the open door you’re leaning against. Towards you. And her hand grasps yours, tugging and shaking it.
The same way it’s on your hip, now. Her fingers are pushing into your skin, and you’re shifting closer to her. Because there’s nowhere else to go, and there’s nowhere else you want to be. So you tell her that with your lips and your tongue, and even with your teeth. And she’s answering back in kind. She’s kissing you so hard and fast that you think you’ll just die if she keeps going. But you know you’ll die if she stops. So you’re taking the better odds, and winding your fingers into her hair and gripping the strands tightly. You can feel it against your lips. Her smile.
She’s smiling at you in that hallway, and you’ve heard so much about her, but it’s nothing like the rumors. Because, God, she’s still grinning at you, and it’s contagious. And mesmerizing. She’s giving you a quick glance over, and you realize that she’s sizing you up, and you’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to feel about that.
You feel her hand sliding up the front of your shirt and you’re moaning so loudly from deep in your throat, and the heat in your cheeks is spreading. You desperately need to stop, because your rings are still on your finger and your hand is so heavy. But hers is closing around your breast and you’re pulling her head back with your fingers still wrapped carelessly in her hair. She’s looking at you with her mouth open and she’s breathing fast and you’re going weak in the knees and mute. Because she’s looking at you like that. Like you are the only thing that matters. And you believe it. You believe it enough to justify stretching up to kiss her again.
You justify your stammering greeting with your nerves. This isn’t just a guest spot on a television show. You don’t get to do your part and move on to the next thing. You’re here to stay. Or until they kill you off. And as far as this circle of actors go, you’ve yet to meet someone who is, well, worshipped the way that she is.
You worship her the only way you know how. She’s bowed beneath you, and she’s saying your name. And you want to look away. The ball of guilt in your stomach unfurls a little more with every answering moan you give her. The sparkling spot on your left hand is braced by her head, and you can’t bear to see it winking at you. But her eyes have you.
She’s gone as fast as she came, moving so quickly down the hallway. She's taking the air from your lungs, leaving you breathless as she walks away. Something about needing to film a scene. She’s tossing a wave over her shoulder, with a promise to talk to you later.
And she never lets you go.
Author: ripptyd
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: GL - CC & JL (RPF)
Word Count: 566
Summary: She’s kissing you so hard and fast that you think you’ll just die if she keeps going. But you know you’ll die if she stops.
Author's Note: If you don't like RPF/S, then don't read it. Seriously. Based on THIS song.
The first time you see her, she’s walking down the hallway of the studio. It’s a blur, and she’s shuffling through some papers, and her thumb is working over her cell phone quickly. But she’s stopped a few steps from you and making her way towards the open door you’re leaning against. Towards you. And her hand grasps yours, tugging and shaking it.
The same way it’s on your hip, now. Her fingers are pushing into your skin, and you’re shifting closer to her. Because there’s nowhere else to go, and there’s nowhere else you want to be. So you tell her that with your lips and your tongue, and even with your teeth. And she’s answering back in kind. She’s kissing you so hard and fast that you think you’ll just die if she keeps going. But you know you’ll die if she stops. So you’re taking the better odds, and winding your fingers into her hair and gripping the strands tightly. You can feel it against your lips. Her smile.
She’s smiling at you in that hallway, and you’ve heard so much about her, but it’s nothing like the rumors. Because, God, she’s still grinning at you, and it’s contagious. And mesmerizing. She’s giving you a quick glance over, and you realize that she’s sizing you up, and you’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to feel about that.
You feel her hand sliding up the front of your shirt and you’re moaning so loudly from deep in your throat, and the heat in your cheeks is spreading. You desperately need to stop, because your rings are still on your finger and your hand is so heavy. But hers is closing around your breast and you’re pulling her head back with your fingers still wrapped carelessly in her hair. She’s looking at you with her mouth open and she’s breathing fast and you’re going weak in the knees and mute. Because she’s looking at you like that. Like you are the only thing that matters. And you believe it. You believe it enough to justify stretching up to kiss her again.
You justify your stammering greeting with your nerves. This isn’t just a guest spot on a television show. You don’t get to do your part and move on to the next thing. You’re here to stay. Or until they kill you off. And as far as this circle of actors go, you’ve yet to meet someone who is, well, worshipped the way that she is.
You worship her the only way you know how. She’s bowed beneath you, and she’s saying your name. And you want to look away. The ball of guilt in your stomach unfurls a little more with every answering moan you give her. The sparkling spot on your left hand is braced by her head, and you can’t bear to see it winking at you. But her eyes have you.
She’s gone as fast as she came, moving so quickly down the hallway. She's taking the air from your lungs, leaving you breathless as she walks away. Something about needing to film a scene. She’s tossing a wave over her shoulder, with a promise to talk to you later.
And she never lets you go.