Title: Nooner Pairing: RayK/Stella
The hotel room door was ajar, and Stella stepped inside cautiously. “Ray? My secretary took a message—”
He was sitting near the window, lit only faintly through the closed curtains. “I got back early, hon’,” he said. Flowers on the table, a bottle, two wine glasses. “I thought you could have a little fun in a hotel, too – since I got to go away to the police convention.” He paused. “And… my appointment’s come through.”
“Oh, Ray!” she said. “Oh, honey, you’ve worked so hard for that job!” He stood up, a slim silhouette, and she went into his hug, feeling his wiry frame press against her, his arms enfold her, his soft lips seek hers out, tease and love her. She lost herself a little, what a relief after a day at court, and such great news, too. She must never tell him that she’d called in some favors… not that his qualification was in doubt, but who you knew still counted in Chicago.
While he worked at the tiny buttons on her silk blouse, she tugged off his jacket, pulled up his t-shirt and ran her hands up his chest, reveling in his warmth and texture: soft skin, coarse hair, firm muscles – and frowned slightly as her hand ran into resistance, straps or something over the T-shirt.
“Stella, you’re great… just greatness,” Ray said. He always said the sweetest things. She sighed and reached around to investigate this strappy thing… surely it wasn’t bondage gear. The straps ran across the breadth of his shoulders. While he kissed her neck and murmured, she followed the strap around under his arm, and put her hand…
…on cold hard steel. She gasped, even as she realized what it must be, a shoulder holster. His hands on her stilled, and he broke off his kiss. “Stel’? You okay?”
“Ray – it’s just – your gun,” she said. She took a step back, a deep breath. “I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Ray said. “I picked up this rig at the convention, ‘cause I’m going to be plainclothes now… forgot I had it on, it’s so light.”
“It’s okay, Ray,” she said, trying to sound hearty, but her heart was still pounding.
“No, I’ll take it off,” he said, matching action to words. “I didn’t think—”
“It’s your job,” she said. He put all of it, straps and holster and gun, on top of the armoire. “I’ll be okay now,” she said, and he took up where he left off, and she tried, tried, tried to act enthusiastic for him.