giantessmess
in
rpfs
Olivia/Mariska doppelcest
Title: foreign bodies
Pairing: Olivia Benson/Mariska Hargitay
Rating: The creepy side of PG-13?
Words: 731
A/N:
a) It goes without saying that I'm evil. Stop encouraging me projectjulie!
b) I'm messing around with first person. Does that make it feel even more wrong?
cross-posted: rpfs, svu_rpf, olivia_mariska_
“Look, I don’t do this.”
How many times does she have to say it, before she realizes I don’t believe her?
“Pretty strange thing not to do nine times.”
She sits up in the bed then. Is that how I look when I’m desperate?
“Ok, I’m not like you…I -”
“Relax. Since when do I count as a person, anyway?”
Mariska’s face is still flushed. She fiddles with her hair.
I mutter, “It never matters what I want, does it?”
“Olivia…” and she catches herself. “Jesus, I’m not having this conversation….”
“What a surprise.”
“Peter - I’m supposed to be…”
But she can’t stop staring at me, curled under her bedclothes. I wonder if our lungs feel the same, when we’re gasping for breath. Both of us with that uncanny tan I can never explain to Elliot. And the treatments she does to my face, as if I wouldn’t notice.
Then there are the little surprises I leave for her husband. The third tattoo. And the piercing Alex dared me to do. I like to imagine her expression, when she woke up with it, in her expensive sheets.
We share too much. Everything you do comes back times three. It quickly stopped being just a game at inconveniencing. Because as much as she likes to pretend, she doesn’t have much of a sense of humor. And I’ve never found attempts on my life very funny.
Both of us are branded with her feathered, actress hair. So light and playful on her, but on me it looks disjointed. Like I was punished on the set of Straight Eye for the Queer Girl. Even Casey thinks I’m off the deep end.
“So the next blind date I force you into…” she shrugs, seemingly innocent. “You want it to be a guy?”
And Mariska claims she doesn’t understand why I hate it.
“Just cut it, then. You never stop complaining.”
“Sure. You won’t have my legs broken?”
“They’re my legs.”
I slowly run my hands over them. “Damn sexy ones, too.” Then I realize I’m only touching myself. But she closes her eyes, as she feels it anyway.
“I don’t do this…”
I kiss down her neck, lingering between her breasts. I feel her lips mirror my touch, even though her head is tilted away.
“Olivia….I’m not..…”
“Then stay the hell away from New York.”
She manages a laugh. Her voice squeaks. “God, please. This was never New York. Your badge is a prop.” And she tries to push me off, but I have her pinned to the bed already.
My muscles are more real than hers are. And she knows I’m everywhere she is, regardless of whether my city is just her film set. I’m in her bed, in her skin. I am her skin.
My tongue teases her nipple, I bite down briefly, cruelly. She almost chokes on a breath, but she doesn’t make a sound.
“Trying to grow me out - you don’t think I’m more than just hair?”
“I’m straight,” she gasps, as I kiss down to her pelvis.
I brush her clit, and she moans involuntarily. “Yeah, like a corkscrew.” My voice wavers, and I can’t believe I’m spinning down this rabbit hole with her.
She degenerates into giggles when I slide my fingers inside her. They become threats, as she tries to control her responses. Don’t stop. Then, It’s your fault. I hate you. God, I hate you.
I watch her face contort, and hate that mine is grinning in reaction, my pulse racing without my consent.
And when she’s stretched out beside me, her skin tinged with sweat, I think that maybe she’s just one of those cells that reproduces by splitting in two. Jesus, Huang would have a field day with this.
I yank the blanket off her and watch the goosebumps form on her skin, before I feel the same chill prickling all over my covered body.
“It’s cold,” she mutters. “You want to touch me? Touch yourself.”
“Only you,” I sneer “Would need to fuck yourself to get off.”
She brushes my hair out of her eyes. Or is it my eyes - her hair, my hand? I blink, and then close my eyes in irritation. She enjoys my confusion for the first time that I can remember.
“Olivia,” I shiver as she licks her lips. It’s a perverted kind of kiss. “I could say the same thing about you.”
Pairing: Olivia Benson/Mariska Hargitay
Rating: The creepy side of PG-13?
Words: 731
A/N:
a) It goes without saying that I'm evil. Stop encouraging me projectjulie!
b) I'm messing around with first person. Does that make it feel even more wrong?
cross-posted: rpfs, svu_rpf, olivia_mariska_
“Look, I don’t do this.”
How many times does she have to say it, before she realizes I don’t believe her?
“Pretty strange thing not to do nine times.”
She sits up in the bed then. Is that how I look when I’m desperate?
“Ok, I’m not like you…I -”
“Relax. Since when do I count as a person, anyway?”
Mariska’s face is still flushed. She fiddles with her hair.
I mutter, “It never matters what I want, does it?”
“Olivia…” and she catches herself. “Jesus, I’m not having this conversation….”
“What a surprise.”
“Peter - I’m supposed to be…”
But she can’t stop staring at me, curled under her bedclothes. I wonder if our lungs feel the same, when we’re gasping for breath. Both of us with that uncanny tan I can never explain to Elliot. And the treatments she does to my face, as if I wouldn’t notice.
Then there are the little surprises I leave for her husband. The third tattoo. And the piercing Alex dared me to do. I like to imagine her expression, when she woke up with it, in her expensive sheets.
We share too much. Everything you do comes back times three. It quickly stopped being just a game at inconveniencing. Because as much as she likes to pretend, she doesn’t have much of a sense of humor. And I’ve never found attempts on my life very funny.
Both of us are branded with her feathered, actress hair. So light and playful on her, but on me it looks disjointed. Like I was punished on the set of Straight Eye for the Queer Girl. Even Casey thinks I’m off the deep end.
“So the next blind date I force you into…” she shrugs, seemingly innocent. “You want it to be a guy?”
And Mariska claims she doesn’t understand why I hate it.
“Just cut it, then. You never stop complaining.”
“Sure. You won’t have my legs broken?”
“They’re my legs.”
I slowly run my hands over them. “Damn sexy ones, too.” Then I realize I’m only touching myself. But she closes her eyes, as she feels it anyway.
“I don’t do this…”
I kiss down her neck, lingering between her breasts. I feel her lips mirror my touch, even though her head is tilted away.
“Olivia….I’m not..…”
“Then stay the hell away from New York.”
She manages a laugh. Her voice squeaks. “God, please. This was never New York. Your badge is a prop.” And she tries to push me off, but I have her pinned to the bed already.
My muscles are more real than hers are. And she knows I’m everywhere she is, regardless of whether my city is just her film set. I’m in her bed, in her skin. I am her skin.
My tongue teases her nipple, I bite down briefly, cruelly. She almost chokes on a breath, but she doesn’t make a sound.
“Trying to grow me out - you don’t think I’m more than just hair?”
“I’m straight,” she gasps, as I kiss down to her pelvis.
I brush her clit, and she moans involuntarily. “Yeah, like a corkscrew.” My voice wavers, and I can’t believe I’m spinning down this rabbit hole with her.
She degenerates into giggles when I slide my fingers inside her. They become threats, as she tries to control her responses. Don’t stop. Then, It’s your fault. I hate you. God, I hate you.
I watch her face contort, and hate that mine is grinning in reaction, my pulse racing without my consent.
And when she’s stretched out beside me, her skin tinged with sweat, I think that maybe she’s just one of those cells that reproduces by splitting in two. Jesus, Huang would have a field day with this.
I yank the blanket off her and watch the goosebumps form on her skin, before I feel the same chill prickling all over my covered body.
“It’s cold,” she mutters. “You want to touch me? Touch yourself.”
“Only you,” I sneer “Would need to fuck yourself to get off.”
She brushes my hair out of her eyes. Or is it my eyes - her hair, my hand? I blink, and then close my eyes in irritation. She enjoys my confusion for the first time that I can remember.
“Olivia,” I shiver as she licks her lips. It’s a perverted kind of kiss. “I could say the same thing about you.”