Scared of Romance :: RPF, Gabrielle Christian/Mandy Musgrave, "this modern love"
Another slightly lengthly one for this porn battle. As you can see, I am becoming just a little smitten with Mabrielle. A little [lol].
They didn’t just look at one another and decide to do this.
It built up over time, rushing up fast like the tide on those California beaches and then receding - over and over again, just like that, and Mandy feels lips on her sun-kissed skin and life gets complicated.
The kiss doesn’t make things complicated, though.
It’s the aftershocks of the contact, shooting a direct line from where a hot mouth touches her bare shoulder all the way to her clit and makes it jump…
…Oh, right, that’s the problem.
///
Gabrielle loves to dance and drink.
She flirts as if it is going out of style and everyone finds it shocking.
Singing along to whatever pop song gets blasted out over the speakers, sweaty and stumbling… Gabrielle likes to have a good time.
But Gabrielle loves to sleep in late and drink her coffee in bed.
She giggles at the stupidest things and talks to plants as if they were people.
Singing along to whatever pop song gets blasted out over the speakers, in the shower…
Gabrielle likes to live the simple life.
Mandy kind of hates that she got to see both sides to the woman and not just one, would have been a piece of cake to walk away from the first one - just a drunken grope, just some bump-and-grind to the music, just a little fun between friends.
But walking away from the second one is like pulling teeth.
///
“You know, if you’d ask me, I would… If you’d just fucking ask me-“
“Let’s not do this before the last scene for the day, okay?”
“We never ‘do this’, though… we never finish this run-on conversation, do we?”
“…Then let’s not have it at all. Maybe we aren’t meant to have it, you know… maybe we aren’t meant to be talking about this and fighting about this day in and day out.”
Blue eyes should never be that hard or that cold or that hurt or that broken - and Mandy pictures her hands like sledgehammers, shattering valuable things.
Things like possibility. Things like fate. Things like love.
But she does it anyway.
And Gabrielle walks out of the trailer.
///
So, if she were telling this to some random person - a person at a bar, a little tipsy and a lot lonely - and this person wants to hear a story in order to pass the useless hours of time… so, she would start talking and telling this story…
Make sense so far? Good.
She’d tell this person all about pie-in-the-sky dreams about being an actress and working on some little show for teenagers and becoming friends with all her cast-mates.
And then she’d talk about her.
Hearing her laugh is like seeing the sun rise and so she kept telling jokes and it kept getting better every time she did so and so they became ‘real’ friends - talking on the phone and hitting up stores - and then they became ‘best friends’ - moving in together and sharing secrets - and then... well, and then.
She’d tell this person about one night in particular, where tequila flowed too heavy and inhibitions were too loosely bound and how something as insignificant as a brush of fingertips against an arm set off an explosion of want and her eyes were darker than blue eyes should ever be in that club.
And she’d tell this person about how her hands were straying and she didn’t stop it - not once did she stop it… even though there were guys waiting, guys like serious boyfriends and guys like co-stars… she didn’t stop it and that’s the thing: she didn’t want to.
///
Gabrielle’s lips taste like forever and a bottle, mixing together in something far more intoxicating than alcohol could ever be. And Mandy loves the feeling of their bodies pressed so close, forgetting how much she enjoyed it even when on set - always quick to pretend that the hitch in her breathing was good acting.
But no one is acting now.
Art is imitating life. Or life is way ahead of art.
She isn’t sure. And she isn’t sure that she cares.
Gabrielle is dictating a wet path along her earlobe and Mandy wishes the music wasn’t so loud so she could hear the groan that she knows came out of her own mouth.
They slide further along the brick wall, passed by as easily as all faceless people are in a club and Mandy is pushing her hips into Gabrielle’s - friction for frictions sake - and lips crash and lips suck and lips devour.
“I want to get out of here. Now.”
And Mandy agrees.
///
It was there, though, in that first moment.
On a bed and last take, Matt hovering just out of the line of the camera and crew milling about and a call of ‘action’… it was there, in that first moment.
“It’s okay…”
And something deep within Mandy’s body rippled out, stretched and woke up.
Gabrielle’s face was so soft and felt like silk and Mandy cupped the woman’s cheek and their eyes met.
Their damn eyes met and Mandy almost lost it, lost all track of the plot and the story and the name of the girl she was supposed to be playing.
Their damn eyes met and Gabrielle’s breath smelled like peppermint and Mandy, honest to god, just wanted to kiss her.
But there was Cohen and then there was a ‘cut’ and then Gabrielle was gone in a flash.
///
They don’t make it to a bed. They don’t even make it to a bedroom. They just get inside the door and Gabrielle is jerking her close again and is plundering her mouth with a skilled tongue.
Zippers are pulled down and blouses ripped away and they sort of fall onto the couch - in the darkness, in the silence… cell phones left in Mandy’s car and it’s after three in the morning anyway, only those left behind guys would be calling and she could care less.
Skin on skin and Mandy tries to ignore her own shaking, like she is virgin, and palms Gabrielle’s breast and they kiss and they moan and thighs press firmly to steadily soaked underwear - Mandy growls and Gabrielle rocks her hips subtly.
Lapping at one raised nipple just makes Gabrielle grind harder and Mandy tugs the swollen bud with her teeth and Gabrielle’s whole body arcs upward and it is caught in a sudden shaft of streetlight - all pale and perfect - and Mandy feels the sight of that all the way to the core of her soul.
And that scares her back into the world of lust they are shaping.
And she moves up and she steals every kiss she can and her hand slips down and past cloth confines and she quickly slides two fingers in and uses her whole body to fuck this woman beneath her… this woman digging fingernails into her scalp, this woman eagerly meeting each thrust… her best friend, beautiful and lovely and warm as a summer breeze…
Gabby… this Gabby… my Gabby…
She isn’t totally surprised that she comes as soon as Gabrielle does.
///
And it just kept happening, that’s what she would tell this person at the bar.
They just kept doing it, sneaking away from parties and claiming tiredness when boyfriends called up.
They just kept doing it, living a life where no touch was innocent and where ‘no’ never meant ‘no’, it always meant ‘convince me and I am yours’.
But conversation got harder.
At first it was mutual. At first they were both quiet after the fact.
But then Gabrielle would get this look, smoothing over Mandy’s stomach with a light caress, and there were important phrases forming on those bruised lips and Mandy didn’t know how to handle it.
Because she still went out with Matt. Because Gabrielle still went out with Justin.
Because they never said the words and they probably never would and maybe that was just how it was meant to be.
That’s what she would tell this person at the bar, looking for a story in order to waste some time.
She’d tell this person all about falling in love and how much is sucks.
///
“He proposed.”
“…Oh.”
“Is that all you’ve got? Really?”
“What do you want me to say?”
Crashing down, all of it, just crashing down and that voice inside her head, the one that is screaming, she just treats as white-noise - the static of the eternally fearful.
“God, Mandy, you just keep on killing me and I can’t… I can’t just wait forever for you to tell me how you feel… I can’t wait forever…”
Crashing down, all of it, just crashing down and those images jumping around her head (waking you up with my touch, hugging you from behind, your head on my chest, the way you smile at me over the edge of the newspaper, how the water tastes rolling down your back, rubbing your feet and laughing into your hair) are memories that she cannot face - blind eyes to make up for a weak-willed heart.
“Then do it. Accept it. I can’t give you want you need, right? What you want… I can’t give you that, can I, Gabby?”
Crashing down, all of it, just crashing down… and the answers aren’t in her head, but she won’t look for them anywhere else - stubbornly wrong until the bitter end.
…Oh, right, that’s the problem.
///
Lips to sun-kissed skin.
It is tender, but not unsure.
And Mandy is afraid to turn around, so she stays facing the ocean.
But Gabrielle slides an arm about her waist and leans against her back.
“Why’d you do that?” Mandy asks quietly.
“Just felt like it.” Gabrielle answers, a little muffled within Mandy’s hair.
And Mandy is glad to be watching the sea, because she is smiling and she can’t fathom the reaction out fully just now.
But she lazily strokes Gabrielle’s arm and the woman sort of snuggles closer and Mandy tells the lower half of her body to settle down.
“That’s okay then.” Mandy murmurs.
///
::END::
They didn’t just look at one another and decide to do this.
It built up over time, rushing up fast like the tide on those California beaches and then receding - over and over again, just like that, and Mandy feels lips on her sun-kissed skin and life gets complicated.
The kiss doesn’t make things complicated, though.
It’s the aftershocks of the contact, shooting a direct line from where a hot mouth touches her bare shoulder all the way to her clit and makes it jump…
…Oh, right, that’s the problem.
///
Gabrielle loves to dance and drink.
She flirts as if it is going out of style and everyone finds it shocking.
Singing along to whatever pop song gets blasted out over the speakers, sweaty and stumbling… Gabrielle likes to have a good time.
But Gabrielle loves to sleep in late and drink her coffee in bed.
She giggles at the stupidest things and talks to plants as if they were people.
Singing along to whatever pop song gets blasted out over the speakers, in the shower…
Gabrielle likes to live the simple life.
Mandy kind of hates that she got to see both sides to the woman and not just one, would have been a piece of cake to walk away from the first one - just a drunken grope, just some bump-and-grind to the music, just a little fun between friends.
But walking away from the second one is like pulling teeth.
///
“You know, if you’d ask me, I would… If you’d just fucking ask me-“
“Let’s not do this before the last scene for the day, okay?”
“We never ‘do this’, though… we never finish this run-on conversation, do we?”
“…Then let’s not have it at all. Maybe we aren’t meant to have it, you know… maybe we aren’t meant to be talking about this and fighting about this day in and day out.”
Blue eyes should never be that hard or that cold or that hurt or that broken - and Mandy pictures her hands like sledgehammers, shattering valuable things.
Things like possibility. Things like fate. Things like love.
But she does it anyway.
And Gabrielle walks out of the trailer.
///
So, if she were telling this to some random person - a person at a bar, a little tipsy and a lot lonely - and this person wants to hear a story in order to pass the useless hours of time… so, she would start talking and telling this story…
Make sense so far? Good.
She’d tell this person all about pie-in-the-sky dreams about being an actress and working on some little show for teenagers and becoming friends with all her cast-mates.
And then she’d talk about her.
Hearing her laugh is like seeing the sun rise and so she kept telling jokes and it kept getting better every time she did so and so they became ‘real’ friends - talking on the phone and hitting up stores - and then they became ‘best friends’ - moving in together and sharing secrets - and then... well, and then.
She’d tell this person about one night in particular, where tequila flowed too heavy and inhibitions were too loosely bound and how something as insignificant as a brush of fingertips against an arm set off an explosion of want and her eyes were darker than blue eyes should ever be in that club.
And she’d tell this person about how her hands were straying and she didn’t stop it - not once did she stop it… even though there were guys waiting, guys like serious boyfriends and guys like co-stars… she didn’t stop it and that’s the thing: she didn’t want to.
///
Gabrielle’s lips taste like forever and a bottle, mixing together in something far more intoxicating than alcohol could ever be. And Mandy loves the feeling of their bodies pressed so close, forgetting how much she enjoyed it even when on set - always quick to pretend that the hitch in her breathing was good acting.
But no one is acting now.
Art is imitating life. Or life is way ahead of art.
She isn’t sure. And she isn’t sure that she cares.
Gabrielle is dictating a wet path along her earlobe and Mandy wishes the music wasn’t so loud so she could hear the groan that she knows came out of her own mouth.
They slide further along the brick wall, passed by as easily as all faceless people are in a club and Mandy is pushing her hips into Gabrielle’s - friction for frictions sake - and lips crash and lips suck and lips devour.
“I want to get out of here. Now.”
And Mandy agrees.
///
It was there, though, in that first moment.
On a bed and last take, Matt hovering just out of the line of the camera and crew milling about and a call of ‘action’… it was there, in that first moment.
“It’s okay…”
And something deep within Mandy’s body rippled out, stretched and woke up.
Gabrielle’s face was so soft and felt like silk and Mandy cupped the woman’s cheek and their eyes met.
Their damn eyes met and Mandy almost lost it, lost all track of the plot and the story and the name of the girl she was supposed to be playing.
Their damn eyes met and Gabrielle’s breath smelled like peppermint and Mandy, honest to god, just wanted to kiss her.
But there was Cohen and then there was a ‘cut’ and then Gabrielle was gone in a flash.
///
They don’t make it to a bed. They don’t even make it to a bedroom. They just get inside the door and Gabrielle is jerking her close again and is plundering her mouth with a skilled tongue.
Zippers are pulled down and blouses ripped away and they sort of fall onto the couch - in the darkness, in the silence… cell phones left in Mandy’s car and it’s after three in the morning anyway, only those left behind guys would be calling and she could care less.
Skin on skin and Mandy tries to ignore her own shaking, like she is virgin, and palms Gabrielle’s breast and they kiss and they moan and thighs press firmly to steadily soaked underwear - Mandy growls and Gabrielle rocks her hips subtly.
Lapping at one raised nipple just makes Gabrielle grind harder and Mandy tugs the swollen bud with her teeth and Gabrielle’s whole body arcs upward and it is caught in a sudden shaft of streetlight - all pale and perfect - and Mandy feels the sight of that all the way to the core of her soul.
And that scares her back into the world of lust they are shaping.
And she moves up and she steals every kiss she can and her hand slips down and past cloth confines and she quickly slides two fingers in and uses her whole body to fuck this woman beneath her… this woman digging fingernails into her scalp, this woman eagerly meeting each thrust… her best friend, beautiful and lovely and warm as a summer breeze…
Gabby… this Gabby… my Gabby…
She isn’t totally surprised that she comes as soon as Gabrielle does.
///
And it just kept happening, that’s what she would tell this person at the bar.
They just kept doing it, sneaking away from parties and claiming tiredness when boyfriends called up.
They just kept doing it, living a life where no touch was innocent and where ‘no’ never meant ‘no’, it always meant ‘convince me and I am yours’.
But conversation got harder.
At first it was mutual. At first they were both quiet after the fact.
But then Gabrielle would get this look, smoothing over Mandy’s stomach with a light caress, and there were important phrases forming on those bruised lips and Mandy didn’t know how to handle it.
Because she still went out with Matt. Because Gabrielle still went out with Justin.
Because they never said the words and they probably never would and maybe that was just how it was meant to be.
That’s what she would tell this person at the bar, looking for a story in order to waste some time.
She’d tell this person all about falling in love and how much is sucks.
///
“He proposed.”
“…Oh.”
“Is that all you’ve got? Really?”
“What do you want me to say?”
Crashing down, all of it, just crashing down and that voice inside her head, the one that is screaming, she just treats as white-noise - the static of the eternally fearful.
“God, Mandy, you just keep on killing me and I can’t… I can’t just wait forever for you to tell me how you feel… I can’t wait forever…”
Crashing down, all of it, just crashing down and those images jumping around her head (waking you up with my touch, hugging you from behind, your head on my chest, the way you smile at me over the edge of the newspaper, how the water tastes rolling down your back, rubbing your feet and laughing into your hair) are memories that she cannot face - blind eyes to make up for a weak-willed heart.
“Then do it. Accept it. I can’t give you want you need, right? What you want… I can’t give you that, can I, Gabby?”
Crashing down, all of it, just crashing down… and the answers aren’t in her head, but she won’t look for them anywhere else - stubbornly wrong until the bitter end.
…Oh, right, that’s the problem.
///
Lips to sun-kissed skin.
It is tender, but not unsure.
And Mandy is afraid to turn around, so she stays facing the ocean.
But Gabrielle slides an arm about her waist and leans against her back.
“Why’d you do that?” Mandy asks quietly.
“Just felt like it.” Gabrielle answers, a little muffled within Mandy’s hair.
And Mandy is glad to be watching the sea, because she is smiling and she can’t fathom the reaction out fully just now.
But she lazily strokes Gabrielle’s arm and the woman sort of snuggles closer and Mandy tells the lower half of her body to settle down.
“That’s okay then.” Mandy murmurs.
///
::END::