dS fic and podfic: Marisol
Fandom, Pairing: Due South, RayK/OFC
Summary: This seemed like a good idea an hour ago.
Rating: R for for sexual and violent situations, and general unpleasantness.
Challenge: Written for ds_team_angst's drabble tree. Even though it's not a drabble.
Length: 739 words written, 5 minutes read aloud
Disclaimer: Alliance/Atlantis owns Ray. Marisol is mine, but feel free to take her for a spin.
Thanks to: My beta ainsley and to isiscolo for a deliciously angsty drabble prompt.
File Format: zipped MP3, 3.4 MB
Author's Notes: I apologize in advance for my Cuban accent.
Download the podfic, or read the text here.
Ray stood at the window, looking out into the night, trying to remember why this seemed like a good idea an hour ago. The chick was cute enough; short and Cuban, with long dark hair, a pretty mouth, and a husky laugh that made his dick twitch. Marisol. That was her name. Yeah. And all of a sudden his lines, his tired old lines that'd failed him a hundred times, were working like a charm. She was into him, wanted him, followed him home like a puppy.
And that should be a good thing, right? It's not like he was cheating on Stella. She'd tossed him out. And the only other action he was getting was from his own right hand. So. This was a good thing.
Ray pasted a smile on his face, turned to face Marisol, and switched the light off. She pressed up against him, and, yeah, now things were moving, listening to her breathy little moans, rubbing up against the soft curve of her belly.
Then she started talking. "I'm hot for you, baby, I'm dripping. I want you to fuck me. Right now. Just ram that big cock right in my cunt, and -"
Suddenly that mouth didn't seem so pretty. He broke off, fumbled for the light. "I'm gonna get a beer. You want one?"
Marisol stood blinking uncertainly in the light. "Okay, I'll take one."
Ray walked to the fridge and pulled out his last two beers. He really needed to go shopping tomorrow. Maybe he'd try that new store up on West Cermak. Fraser said they had the freshest produce in Chicago.
A rustle behind him. Oh yeah, Marisol. He closed the fridge door, twisted the caps off, and handed one to her. She smiled her thanks, took a sip, and then stepped up close. Ray's arms and thighs opened for her automatically. Marisol nestled up against him, putting her beer down on the counter behind him, tilting her head up for a kiss.
Ray's left hand slid up her back and stroked the nape of her neck while his other hand was careful not to spill his beer. Marisol's body was warm, so light and tiny, felt like she might break. Her arms grabbed and pulled him tight against her as she stuck her tongue down his throat. Her mouth tasted of cigarettes and rum, and was that garlic or something?
Ugh. Without even meaning to, he shoved her away, stomach turning over. "Look, Marisol. I don't think this is going to work. I'm … it's just ... I'm tired, okay?"
Marisol stumbled a few steps back until she was pressed against the counter. Ray saw her eyes tear up; he had a few seconds of feeling like the world's biggest asshole. Then her face slowly hardened.
"Tired? Fuck you!" She leaned forward aggressively. Ray's cop senses sat up and took notice.
"No real man would turn this down," she said, gesturing down her body. "I should have known you were a pussy, with all that dancing bullshit. You a marico? Your boyfriend dump you? That why you were out looking for a woman, when you can't even get it up?"
The beer bottle slid cool through his fingers until it was upside down, beer pouring out onto the floor, neck held clenched in his fist. Ray let the bottle swing a little, and somehow knew just how it would feel to slam it into the side of the bitch's head.
Marisol swallowed nervously.
She was scared. And Ray was a cop. It was his job to protect scared women, not … this. He finally found his voice.
"Get. The Fuck. Out." Marisol scampered for the door, scooping up her shoes and purse on the way out.
Ray ran for the window, dragged it open, and threw his beer bottle out, as hard as he could. He heard it shatter against the wall of the building across the alley. He let the cool night air wash over him, full of the everyday noises of traffic and the neighbor's TV.
Eventually he walked back into the kitchen, cleaned up the spilled beer with some paper towels, dumped the other beer bottle down the sink, washed it, and put it in the trash. Then he stripped down, scrubbed the stink of the beer off in a very long, very hot shower, and crawled into bed.
Summary: This seemed like a good idea an hour ago.
Rating: R for for sexual and violent situations, and general unpleasantness.
Challenge: Written for ds_team_angst's drabble tree. Even though it's not a drabble.
Length: 739 words written, 5 minutes read aloud
Disclaimer: Alliance/Atlantis owns Ray. Marisol is mine, but feel free to take her for a spin.
Thanks to: My beta ainsley and to isiscolo for a deliciously angsty drabble prompt.
File Format: zipped MP3, 3.4 MB
Author's Notes: I apologize in advance for my Cuban accent.
Download the podfic, or read the text here.
Ray stood at the window, looking out into the night, trying to remember why this seemed like a good idea an hour ago. The chick was cute enough; short and Cuban, with long dark hair, a pretty mouth, and a husky laugh that made his dick twitch. Marisol. That was her name. Yeah. And all of a sudden his lines, his tired old lines that'd failed him a hundred times, were working like a charm. She was into him, wanted him, followed him home like a puppy.
And that should be a good thing, right? It's not like he was cheating on Stella. She'd tossed him out. And the only other action he was getting was from his own right hand. So. This was a good thing.
Ray pasted a smile on his face, turned to face Marisol, and switched the light off. She pressed up against him, and, yeah, now things were moving, listening to her breathy little moans, rubbing up against the soft curve of her belly.
Then she started talking. "I'm hot for you, baby, I'm dripping. I want you to fuck me. Right now. Just ram that big cock right in my cunt, and -"
Suddenly that mouth didn't seem so pretty. He broke off, fumbled for the light. "I'm gonna get a beer. You want one?"
Marisol stood blinking uncertainly in the light. "Okay, I'll take one."
Ray walked to the fridge and pulled out his last two beers. He really needed to go shopping tomorrow. Maybe he'd try that new store up on West Cermak. Fraser said they had the freshest produce in Chicago.
A rustle behind him. Oh yeah, Marisol. He closed the fridge door, twisted the caps off, and handed one to her. She smiled her thanks, took a sip, and then stepped up close. Ray's arms and thighs opened for her automatically. Marisol nestled up against him, putting her beer down on the counter behind him, tilting her head up for a kiss.
Ray's left hand slid up her back and stroked the nape of her neck while his other hand was careful not to spill his beer. Marisol's body was warm, so light and tiny, felt like she might break. Her arms grabbed and pulled him tight against her as she stuck her tongue down his throat. Her mouth tasted of cigarettes and rum, and was that garlic or something?
Ugh. Without even meaning to, he shoved her away, stomach turning over. "Look, Marisol. I don't think this is going to work. I'm … it's just ... I'm tired, okay?"
Marisol stumbled a few steps back until she was pressed against the counter. Ray saw her eyes tear up; he had a few seconds of feeling like the world's biggest asshole. Then her face slowly hardened.
"Tired? Fuck you!" She leaned forward aggressively. Ray's cop senses sat up and took notice.
"No real man would turn this down," she said, gesturing down her body. "I should have known you were a pussy, with all that dancing bullshit. You a marico? Your boyfriend dump you? That why you were out looking for a woman, when you can't even get it up?"
The beer bottle slid cool through his fingers until it was upside down, beer pouring out onto the floor, neck held clenched in his fist. Ray let the bottle swing a little, and somehow knew just how it would feel to slam it into the side of the bitch's head.
Marisol swallowed nervously.
She was scared. And Ray was a cop. It was his job to protect scared women, not … this. He finally found his voice.
"Get. The Fuck. Out." Marisol scampered for the door, scooping up her shoes and purse on the way out.
Ray ran for the window, dragged it open, and threw his beer bottle out, as hard as he could. He heard it shatter against the wall of the building across the alley. He let the cool night air wash over him, full of the everyday noises of traffic and the neighbor's TV.
Eventually he walked back into the kitchen, cleaned up the spilled beer with some paper towels, dumped the other beer bottle down the sink, washed it, and put it in the trash. Then he stripped down, scrubbed the stink of the beer off in a very long, very hot shower, and crawled into bed.