CIERRE
Over the last month, the streets of Paris have become my magical playground. Filming my first action film has been an exhilarating experience, especially with my lover by my side and a dedicated cast and crew. Throughout my career, I've encountered only a few films with an environment free from toxicity, where the art of acting is genuinely valued over personal gain. The Forsaken Vow is one of those rare phenomena where everything feels ordained, and its abundant success seems inevitable. Someone will win an Academy Award for their role in the developing motion picture, and there's a strong possibility that it will be my angel.
Amel's battle with MS remains unknown to everyone except a few authorized individuals. The sharp contrast between her impressive power and agility in action scenes and her subsequent struggle with health issues is both jarring and incredibly inspiring. Somehow, she unfailingly rejuvenates herself, ready to confront the next day's challenges of battling villains on moving trains, tumbling down staircases, and executing heart-stopping car-chases.
After enduring strenuous sequences, Amel frequently seeks solace in my hotel suite, a space that has essentially become her own. Without hesitation, she sheds her clothes and vanishes into a long, steamy shower, often lingering to the point where I worry she might have lost consciousness. It's as if she times her emergence precisely as I'm about to burst through the door, typically greeting me with a faint yet knowing smile. Once she's washed away the grime of her exhausting day, she reclines on the bed, allowing me to moisturize and massage her chiseled and bruised frame.
I've worked with several stunt performers, but Amel stands out as the boldest and most skilled. Her dedication to her acting surpasses mere action; it shines through the camera lenses even in ordinary scenes. While Amel and Vixen have similar personalities, Vixen exudes a more reserved demeanor and notably lacks the endearing Southern accent. When we share the screen, I no longer see my partner; instead, I'm captivated by the character she embodies. The love Nova harbors for Vixen echoes the depth of my affection for Amel, and the mutual chemistry jumps through the screen.
Whenever the film debuts in theaters, sapphics worldwide are sure to go wild. Their admiration for Amel's undeniable allure will undoubtedly manifest in fan edits and captions overflowing with excitement.
For now, she's entirely mine to marvel at and get excited about. For the past three weeks, our rekindled romance has been flourishing, with our bond strengthening day by day. Disagreements are a rarity, and the ones we've had are trivial, like the ranking of Rihanna's albums. Our family and friends have been our cheerleaders, their support breathing life into our reignited romance. Wrapped in Amel's care, I've come to perceive the incredible feeling of a love that sets my bones on fire and calms the depths of my being. Though our reconciliation is basically private, I'm prepared to proclaim our love to the general public. As our chapter in Paris draws to a close, the ideal opportunity to share our love has arisen.
"Are you sure?" Amel asks. They crane their neck to get a good look at me as I lay on their sweaty chest. I nod at their parted lips. Their tender caress on my bare shoulder pauses briefly before continuing. "I don't know, Ci."
"What do you mean you don't know?" I ask. I'm attempting to hold back a frown, but I don't think I'm being very successful.
"We've been doing well with just us and our loved ones knowing we're together. Including the entire world in our business could cause some issues we're unprepared for."
As I lift myself, my elbow sinks into the mattress. "What problems? And they wouldn't be in our business. It's simply updating our relationship status."
"It's not that simple, boo. People will always be nosy about what we have going on, always pushing narratives, and that's the same shit that ruined us the first time."
"So, what? Are we supposed to keep ourselves hidden?" I survey Amel's face as my annoyance etches mine. "I don't know about you, but I'm not going on private dates for the rest of my life. I'm not walking around with NDAs in my Birkin. This secretive shit is tiring."
With a deep exhalation, Amel's chest heaves. They assume an upright position and support their back against the headboard we were just rocking. "We don't have to be in hiding forever, boo, but I gotta feel confident that you can handle that pressure. After last time—"
After last time? After fucking last time? I eject myself from the bed and trot to my robe. I fasten the luxurious fabric around my naked body. Amel's lips seal together, and their hands clasp as if they're seeking patience. I scoff at them, unsure if I can articulate my thoughts without coming across as overly dramatic. I haven't had a meltdown since we've been back together. I've upped my appointments with my psychotherapist as soon as we made it official, striving to lessen the chances of exploding. I've been proving myself as stable, as rational, as capable of not being jealous or accusatory, and yet, they're bringing up old shit that they claimed they were over.
Crossing my arms, I maintain a distance from the bed. "You said you wouldn't bring up what happened in the past," I say as measuredly as possible.
Tension tightens the creases of their powerfully built shoulders. Their jaw unlatches before I can ask them why the fuck they aren't responding to me. "I'm not bringing things up to slight you," they say. Their gaze is as powerful as the blazing fire within me. "Several factors influenced our breakup. Some were on my account, some on yours, and others were from the people around us. If it weren't for the media concocting stories and Sydney relaying the bullshit to you, maybe we wouldn't have ended so catastrophically."
"Perhaps we wouldn't have, or perhaps we would've. There are a lot of gray areas when it comes to mental illness, Amel. I need you to believe in my ability to handle challenges differently now than I did in the past."
"I believe that, boo. That's not my point. You're focused on telling the world about us when you haven't even told Syd."
"Well, obviously, if I'm going to detail our relationship with the world, then I have to inform my manager first. Why are you even mentioning Syd?"
"Ci," they say sharply, "don't use that patronizing tone with me." They glance away from me with an eye roll. "I'm bringing up Syd because I know she'll pull her dreads out when she finds out we're together. Just like you're not willing to carry NDAs in your Birkin, I'm not willing for my woman to be connected to someone who has constantly tried to sabotage our relationship."
Amel blows air out of their nose as they face me again. With gentle movements of their hands, they continue to express themself. "If you desire to make our connection official to the public, I'm cool with that. I'd fucking love for every motherfucker breathing to know that I have someone as gorgeous, talented, and charismatic as you on my arm. But it's going to come with sacrifice. If Syd cannot get with our agenda, you gotta drop her as a friend and a manager. If you don't, all this glorious love we've rekindled will be destroyed. That's the pressure that I'm worried about you handling. I trust you don't give a damn what random people or blogs say anymore. But one of your best friends, I'm not sure. Conflicting information between a friend and a lover can get anyone off-balance."
Though spoken tenderly, their words land like tiny, unyielding bricks of truth, each leaving its mark. The force destabilizes me. I perch myself on the edge of the bed, wrapping my arms tightly around myself until another set of arms envelops me. Amel draws me into their solid embrace, their lips brushing gently against the top of my head. As for telling Syd about Amel and me reuniting, it's a conversation I've been avoiding because I wholeheartedly agree with my partner. Leaving a decade-long friendship in my rearview mirror will be tougher than navigating LA's rush-hour traffic, but if Syd can't accept Amel and I's relationship, she'll have to take the nearest exit out of my life.
"Once you reveal the truth to her, everything will shift, for better or worse," Amel mumbles. "I want you to be prepared for that, hummingbird."
"I don't think I'll ever be," I admit. "But acting like we're not together in front of castmates and the ever-present cameras has been frustrating. I want to show affection towards you no matter where we're at or who's watching."
"I want to do the same." Amel's mollifying touch cups my face and wipes my teardrops. "You know what else I desire to do?"
"What?"
Their stare transforms, highlighting a playful twinkle. "Gaze at your bootyliciousness without fearing about getting caught." They don an impish smile, wiggling their eyebrows.
My pursed lips explode into a laugh. "Nova's tight, leather pants have a way of sparking thoughts, do they?
"Hell yeah. A whole lotta thoughts," Amel says. They move their slim fingers to the tie of my robe. They think they're slick.
I smack their naughty hands away. "Whoa, there, nasty! I didn't even apologize for being mean to you." I clutch their palms, pouting slightly, as our fingers intertwine. "I'm sorry for speaking to you in that condescending tone, angel. I know you hate that. You're so intelligent, emotionally and logically, and I adore how thoughtful you were about me and Syd. I know she's not your favorite, either. It would mean everything to me if you two could be cordial, but that starts with her. I plan to tell her tomorrow, just before we take a filming break. If it goes bad, at least I have a week to get my emotions together before we start filming in New York."
Amel acknowledges my plans with a nod. "I forgive you, hummingbird. That was light work compared to how we used to argue. Even more proof of how far we've grown. I can't wait to spread the word that, once again, I've secured the sexiest woman on earth—and I'm not letting up off her this time."
"Good," I say, inching my face closer to them. "Because I'll always choose you over any hating-ass friend. Anyone unable to appreciate the incandescent glow surrounding you is not welcome in my life."
As our lips meet, Amel's grin spreads against mine. "Spell 'incandescent,'" she teases. I perform a mini-spelling bee, bestowing a kiss upon my stunning girlfriend after each letter. "Mmm, that's sexy," Amel purrs. "Now, spell," her fingers return to the knot in my robe, "'Take off that motherfucking robe.'"
Before I can even spell the first word, Amel gracefully removes the silky garment, its soft fabric sliding across my skin. The bed's high thread count invites my backside to sink into its plushness. A mighty figure looms above me as soft, full lips envelop mine in a passionate embrace. Every time we connect on this intimate level, my heartbeat rushes in my ears as if it's the first instance, sending electric jolts through my body.
It's difficult to fathom that someone as breathtaking as Amel desires me in every conceivable manner. While I am considered beautiful, Amel's attractiveness is god-like in comparison. Their flawless features and radiant presence capture my every sense. They move their head low, blessing me with their divine tongue and the tender strokes of their fingers. The sounds that escape me are meant only for their ears, for they are the sole person who can satisfy my every longing. Murmurs of my love for them flow from my mouth, sweet and heartfelt, as they savor the taste of my essence.
The world fades away. At this moment, no one else exists. I moan, the only name I know, as I grip the back of their head, nestled between my legs. "Amel...Amel...Amel..." I sing the angelic and magical intonation until my breaths become trapped in my throat. What an enchanting name that matches such an unparalleled spirit.
Amel's patience with me is unmatched, and her affection is beyond imagination. It's a sensation that defies description, is impossible to adequately capture, and is utterly irreplaceable. I will forever honor and praise her name for the overwhelming love and profound respect she instills in my soul.
***
I close my eyes and trust your plan
Won't let no one force my hand
You've paid the cost for true romance
And you want my love again
I thought I seen it all before
And now I've seen so much more
And finally, some doors will close
But here's to open windows and
Look at the trust closin' in
Here's to someone I can depend on, yes
Sent from above, I am convinced
If it isn't luck, I guess love exists
- Mariah the Scientist, "From A Woman"
***
My bad for the late upload, y'all. This story has like three different endings and this chapter was like the juncture where I had to choose where to go. So, it took some time to decide. I always warn y'all when it's about to end. This is like the pre-warning. There's still a bit to go, but we're like 75% done. If you have any ideas, requests, themes, character types, anything for my next lesbian story, then send it through www.taylenjaceking.com/requests. It's anonymous. Thanks to everyone who sends stuff through there. I can't reply but I always get giddy when I have a mailbox notification. Thanks for reading. If y'all notice stylistic changes in my writing, I'm just trying stuff that enhances my prose and challenges my creativity. I'm finally getting to publication status (by my standards bc anyone can publish anything. My books that I put for sale will be upgraded versions of what you see here). Ya'll better buy my shit whenever it drops. 😌
Like and comment. I'd specifically like to know how you guys think Syd (Jacquees/Lil Wayne/Ace Hood/Predator) will react to Ci dating Mel again. 😭
- Taylen (he/him)