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trancer21Title: Out of Character
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Pairing: Mariska Hargitay/Olivia Benson
Rating: R
Genre: Dopplecest, Crack!Fic, RPS
Word Count: 535
Summary: Mariska is haunted by a familiar presence.
A/N: I have no idea if I've posted this before. And if I have, where the heck I posted it to. A short piece of crackfic I found in my webmail.
Out of Character
The director had called 'wrap' an hour ago. There were stage hands and prop masters milling about, cleaning up the minutia of the day.
As far as Mariska had been concerned, her day was done. She'd scrubbed her face clean. Stripped herself of the 'second skin' she'd worn for the past seven years; the leather jacket, the tight jeans, the salmon pullover and white tee shirt. A skin she'd tried valiantly to cleanse herself of. She'd outgrown her hair. Lightened it with increasing frequency. Added curls and makeup; added lace and silk, ruffles and pleats. Anything to remove the essence of Benson that permeated her every breath.
"Where are you going?" She tried not to gasp at the husky voice purring milk and honey in her ear. Tried not to shudder as firm hands began a slow slide along the outside of her hips, lifting her skirt.
"Please," breathed across her lips in a hurried whine.
"Please what?" she could imagine the cock of an eyebrow that went with question.
Not here. Not now. Not ever. They all raced through her brain. Her assistant could walk in. Her husband could walk in. Paparazzi. The janitor. Dick Wolf. She'd tried logic. Reason. This was nothing more than a character. A construct. The figment of someone's vivid imagination. A figment who's finger deftly slid under the hem of her panties, fingers now sliding slowly between wet heat.
"Tell me what you want."
Out. She wanted Olivia out. Out of her skin. Her clothes. Her hair. Wanted to wash her away like dirty sweat in a shower. She wanted out of the character taking over her life, her body, her soul.
But, she couldn't say the words that would release Olivia's hold. The words that would free her. It was hard when those fingers, so strong, so stable, so deep, stroked her right there. Until her hips thrust seemingly of their own volition, her hands reached back threading into the short brown hair she scorned, lips pressing against lips and the only sounds escaping her throat were the ever crescendoing moan of ecstasy.
"I'll never leave you," Olivia whispered throatily, possessively.
Mariska could deny herself no more. Her eyes snapped shut. Her body erupted in quick body quaking spasms. Head snapped back. Teeth grinding against each other as she fought the scream bubbling at the back of her throat. And failed.
Just like that, even as her body still shuddered, throat still raw from screaming, Olivia was gone. Her skin, the leather jacket, jeans, tee shirt, lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Mariska shakily looked around her trailer. Hands still shaking as she hurriedly pulled her panties back up over her hips.
She took a passing glance at her reflection in the mirror. At the reddened streaks of lipstick smeared across her face. The mussed hair she'd painstakingly combed and styled minutes before. She straightened herself, brushing a few errant strands off her forehead. She was still Mariska, she thought to herself defiantly. Thought of herself as a phoenix, rising from the ashes that were Olivia's clothes.
Even as she tucked the prop badge and gun into her purse, exiting her trailer. She was Mariska. Just not out of character.
END
Fandom: Law & Order: SVU
Pairing: Mariska Hargitay/Olivia Benson
Rating: R
Genre: Dopplecest, Crack!Fic, RPS
Word Count: 535
Summary: Mariska is haunted by a familiar presence.
A/N: I have no idea if I've posted this before. And if I have, where the heck I posted it to. A short piece of crackfic I found in my webmail.
Out of Character
The director had called 'wrap' an hour ago. There were stage hands and prop masters milling about, cleaning up the minutia of the day.
As far as Mariska had been concerned, her day was done. She'd scrubbed her face clean. Stripped herself of the 'second skin' she'd worn for the past seven years; the leather jacket, the tight jeans, the salmon pullover and white tee shirt. A skin she'd tried valiantly to cleanse herself of. She'd outgrown her hair. Lightened it with increasing frequency. Added curls and makeup; added lace and silk, ruffles and pleats. Anything to remove the essence of Benson that permeated her every breath.
"Where are you going?" She tried not to gasp at the husky voice purring milk and honey in her ear. Tried not to shudder as firm hands began a slow slide along the outside of her hips, lifting her skirt.
"Please," breathed across her lips in a hurried whine.
"Please what?" she could imagine the cock of an eyebrow that went with question.
Not here. Not now. Not ever. They all raced through her brain. Her assistant could walk in. Her husband could walk in. Paparazzi. The janitor. Dick Wolf. She'd tried logic. Reason. This was nothing more than a character. A construct. The figment of someone's vivid imagination. A figment who's finger deftly slid under the hem of her panties, fingers now sliding slowly between wet heat.
"Tell me what you want."
Out. She wanted Olivia out. Out of her skin. Her clothes. Her hair. Wanted to wash her away like dirty sweat in a shower. She wanted out of the character taking over her life, her body, her soul.
But, she couldn't say the words that would release Olivia's hold. The words that would free her. It was hard when those fingers, so strong, so stable, so deep, stroked her right there. Until her hips thrust seemingly of their own volition, her hands reached back threading into the short brown hair she scorned, lips pressing against lips and the only sounds escaping her throat were the ever crescendoing moan of ecstasy.
"I'll never leave you," Olivia whispered throatily, possessively.
Mariska could deny herself no more. Her eyes snapped shut. Her body erupted in quick body quaking spasms. Head snapped back. Teeth grinding against each other as she fought the scream bubbling at the back of her throat. And failed.
Just like that, even as her body still shuddered, throat still raw from screaming, Olivia was gone. Her skin, the leather jacket, jeans, tee shirt, lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Mariska shakily looked around her trailer. Hands still shaking as she hurriedly pulled her panties back up over her hips.
She took a passing glance at her reflection in the mirror. At the reddened streaks of lipstick smeared across her face. The mussed hair she'd painstakingly combed and styled minutes before. She straightened herself, brushing a few errant strands off her forehead. She was still Mariska, she thought to herself defiantly. Thought of herself as a phoenix, rising from the ashes that were Olivia's clothes.
Even as she tucked the prop badge and gun into her purse, exiting her trailer. She was Mariska. Just not out of character.
END
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on 2006-04-26 04:59 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-04-26 01:36 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-04-27 02:33 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-04-29 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-06-08 02:58 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-06-09 10:17 pm (UTC)do you want to post it to