Ficlet: The Touch, The Feel - Jess/Blair - choco_cherries
Title The Touch, The Feel
Rating a mild M, I think.
Fandoms Gilmore Girls & Gossip Girl
Pairing Jess Mariano/Blair Waldorf
Prompt Mirror @ choco_cherries
Word Count 376
They’re in a fight. Nothing serious, just the daily “he said, she said” of their relationship. The sort of fight that will mean up-against-the-wall, his-hand-splayed-over-the-side-of-her-ribs, her-fingers-in-the-hair-at-the-nape-of-his-neck, re-inventing-the-mother-fucking-wheel sex when dinner is over and they’ve had the time to seethe.
But fight or not, he wouldn’t have spilled the merlot intentionally, certainly not down the front of her brand new Marc Jacobs frock. Honest to God.
And now he’s fishing in his closet for some alternative.
“I’m sorry, no,” she says, when he hands her a soft Pixies t-shirt. “I don’t do jersey cotton.” She hands it back. “Don’t you have anything else?”
“Oh yeah,” he says. “I keep my designer gowns in the hall closet. Didn’t I mention?” He tosses the shirt on the bed with one of his tighter pairs of jeans. “No. This is what I’ve got.”
She huffs, a deep in the throat growl of a huff that reminds him of another brunette, one more afraid of voicing her own feelings than Blair, with her hair pinned up and a diamond the size of a really big diamond resting against her clavicle.
She tosses him out so that she can change in the darkness of his room, then throws the door open again, reveals herself once more.
In his t-shirt she looks like a real girl. She must have snagged the loose chunks of hair on the neck-they fall down to frame her face in soft curls. She reaches up to take down the rest of her hair from where she had pinned it so carefully before leaving her apartment that evening.
“I know you won’t believe me,” he tells her, “but you don’t need all those fancy fabrics to look beautiful.” He reaches for her wrist and pulls her in front of the bathroom mirror. “It’s you I’m in love with,” he growls into her ear. “Not the contents of your magical wardrobe.”
She spins to face him and he’s already got one hand up the side of the shirt, tracing a path over her goosebumped flesh.
“Shut up, Mariano,” she says, stepping him back into the wall. Then, “I love you, too,” before she takes grasp of his hair, tugs him down to meet her impatient lips.
Rating a mild M, I think.
Fandoms Gilmore Girls & Gossip Girl
Pairing Jess Mariano/Blair Waldorf
Prompt Mirror @ choco_cherries
Word Count 376
They’re in a fight. Nothing serious, just the daily “he said, she said” of their relationship. The sort of fight that will mean up-against-the-wall, his-hand-splayed-over-the-side-of-her-ribs, her-fingers-in-the-hair-at-the-nape-of-his-neck, re-inventing-the-mother-fucking-wheel sex when dinner is over and they’ve had the time to seethe.
But fight or not, he wouldn’t have spilled the merlot intentionally, certainly not down the front of her brand new Marc Jacobs frock. Honest to God.
And now he’s fishing in his closet for some alternative.
“I’m sorry, no,” she says, when he hands her a soft Pixies t-shirt. “I don’t do jersey cotton.” She hands it back. “Don’t you have anything else?”
“Oh yeah,” he says. “I keep my designer gowns in the hall closet. Didn’t I mention?” He tosses the shirt on the bed with one of his tighter pairs of jeans. “No. This is what I’ve got.”
She huffs, a deep in the throat growl of a huff that reminds him of another brunette, one more afraid of voicing her own feelings than Blair, with her hair pinned up and a diamond the size of a really big diamond resting against her clavicle.
She tosses him out so that she can change in the darkness of his room, then throws the door open again, reveals herself once more.
In his t-shirt she looks like a real girl. She must have snagged the loose chunks of hair on the neck-they fall down to frame her face in soft curls. She reaches up to take down the rest of her hair from where she had pinned it so carefully before leaving her apartment that evening.
“I know you won’t believe me,” he tells her, “but you don’t need all those fancy fabrics to look beautiful.” He reaches for her wrist and pulls her in front of the bathroom mirror. “It’s you I’m in love with,” he growls into her ear. “Not the contents of your magical wardrobe.”
She spins to face him and he’s already got one hand up the side of the shirt, tracing a path over her goosebumped flesh.
“Shut up, Mariano,” she says, stepping him back into the wall. Then, “I love you, too,” before she takes grasp of his hair, tugs him down to meet her impatient lips.