She blinked, mouth snapping shut. Any argument was gone from her lips. She hadn’t thought she was bringing you up that often. It wasn’t even a conscious thought. But maybe she had.

Shaking her head, she turned away from him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, El,” she said.

“You’re usually much more convincing,” he called after her retreating back.

Keep thinking about you

After a long day at work, Olivia knew that sinking down onto her couch with a large glass of wine might not be the cure to her thoughts, but it didn’t hurt. Her head fell back, a long sigh parting her lips before she took a long drink from her wine. Some cases ate at her more than others.

With her eyes closed, the image of you from that day flashed through her mind. The way she saw your heart break right there in front of her. Lips parting, eyebrows drawing together, eyes widening. The soft light hitting the tears gathering along your lower lids.

It was stupid how beautiful you were even when upset.

She took another long drink from her wine before standing up. Food was a good idea if she planned on drinking at the rate she was. Her mind flitted away from the task, wondering what you were eating tonight, if you were eating tonight, if you needed a drink as much as she did.

Placing the order for takeout, she sunk down again, cradling the glass in both hands, forearms resting against her thighs. Staring into the dark red liquid, she swirled it, trying to read what was to come in the future like it was tea leaves.

You’d done so well that day, fighting for the kids she hadn’t be able to be there for. Finding you in the precinct with a group of them, keeping them distracted and entertained as they waited for the parents to come find them, she’d let herself watch you. Even now she could see you. All soft smiles and patience, sweet voice and twinkling eyes. That image was burned in her head.

The knock on the door broke her form the replay of your actions that day. Standing, she opened the door, offering money to the delivery man before taking the food back inside. Sitting, she unpacked it, knowing she’d ordered more than she needed. But clutched in her hands was your favourite and she couldn’t even remember ordering it.

She ate the entire thing, working out why you loved it so much. It was almost like having you there with her. It was a surprisingly comforting thought.

Trying to impress you

Olivia wasn’t one to spend a lot of time in the gym. She’d done enough to always get through the physicals she had to, but it wasn’t her preferred hobby. That was, until she’d found out you liked to go down there when you were especially frustrated with a case to try and work it out of your system.

You were on the treadmill, steady pace as you glared. She could practically hear the gears turning in your head. Doing her best to act as if she wasn’t paying attention to you, she walked past, heading to the weight station.

She was strong. She knew she was. She wanted you to know it too.

Warming up, she glanced over her shoulder to find your head titled as you watched her. She shot you a small smile before she turned away, pretending to focus on her own workout.

She couldn’t understand the burning desire to show off in front of you. But she was willing to indulge it, if only to take the edge off so she could focus on the case too.

Taking her place at the bench press, she lay down. She focused on the weight in her hands, muscles working. It was easy to ignore your presence, even if she wanted to know if you were watching.

“Shouldn’t you have someone spotting you?”

She heaved the bar back onto the stand before sitting up. You were standing by her, sweat slicked skin and bright eyes, staring down at her.

“I’m fine,” she said, wiping the back of her hand over her forehead.

“Really? Because with weights like this you could do some serious damage,” you said, finger running along the bar her fingers has so recently been curled around.

“I can handle it,” she said.

“And as impressive as that is, I’ll just be wracked with guilt if I saw this and did nothing and you had an accident,” you said.

“You think I don’t have this?” she asked, a scoff of a question.

“Maybe.” You shrugged, “or maybe I just wanted an excuse to get a closer seat to the show.”

Heat spread over her skin. She lay back down, not having a smart remark, having gotten essentially what she wanted. You were completely focused on her as she showed off her strength. There was something addictive about doing it under your watchful gaze.

Gazing at you

Your head tipped back, the laugh on your lips light and airy. Your hair caught the morning light, shining like something out of a dream. Your lips were curled up in a delighted smile, all soft edges and sweet curves.

Olivia felt her heart constrict just looking at you, chin resting in the palm of her hand, pen clutched loosely in the other. She’d been watching long enough to know she was procrastinating her paperwork. You were a nice distraction.

You shook your hair back from your face. Leaning over, her eyes caught on the way the neckline of your shirt dipped. Shadows and light played over your skin and she found herself hypnotised. She couldn’t look away.

You were so beautiful.

Someone passed between you and her, breaking her gaze. Shaking her head, she looked back down at her report. It was hardly as captivating as you were.

A movement in her periphery, her eyes darted back up, finding you as you turned towards her. Your gaze landed on her and she watched as your lips pulled up on one side. She should have been embarrassed, being caught watching you. She would have.

But your eyes swept over her and she found herself preening. Leaning back, she offered more of herself to your gaze. She didn’t even think about it. She wanted you looking at her the way she looked at you.

A blaze of heat went through her.

Your smirk only made it worse. Turning away from her, she let the disappointment fade away, eyes lingering on you. There was no reason you should be so captivating, but she was finding it hard to look away.

She always seemed to find it hard to look away from you.

Seeking you out

Olivia was staring at the board, the faces of the victims staring back at her. Arms crossed over her chest, her lips pursed. Elliot was at his desk, watching her with that heavy gaze that always made her skin itch, like he could see more than she wanted him to.

You had taken the morning off. Something about an appointment you couldn’t get out of. Curiosity had been eating away at her all morning. Then, when you’d breezed in, it was with a cheery hello, nothing more. Now, sequestered upstairs, she could feel your presence even if she couldn’t see you.

“What’re you thinking?” Elliot asked.

Something he wouldn’t appreciate hearing.

“Didn’t someone have something on the fingerprints?” she asked.

“Yeah.” His eyes darted up to where she knew you were sitting.

It was all the excuse she needed.

You looked up from the food you were in the middle of consuming, a sub from the bodega down the street. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand, you grinned. Something in her chest calmed, while butterflies erupted in her stomach.

“What’s up?” you asked, leaning back.

Something in her chest settled seeing you. She straddled the chair across from you, eyes sweeping over you. You let her without question.

“You had the report with the fingerprints, right?” she asked.

“Sure, it’s sitting on my desk,” you replied.

She watched you suck on your fingertip, tongue flicking over it to remove the sauce before you reached for a napkin. With your hollowed cheeks and your pretty eyes watching her, heat skittered over her skin.

“You need help finding it?” you asked.

“Your desk is a mess,” she said, letting herself smile at you.

“Organised chaos,” you shot back, “c’mon Benson. Surely you can find a measly file on your own.”

“Indulge me,” she said.

“I always do.” Your hand lingered on her shoulder as you passed by.

“Subtle,” Elliot said as she walked past, following you back to your desk.

She ignored him, the idiot, refusing to admit to what he was saying. Or implying. Wanting you to join them help put another predator behind bars wasn’t weird. It didn’t have to mean anything.

It didn’t.

Protective

The man shouldn’t have even managed to get into the building. Let alone with a gun. He should have been stopped before he could even enter the building. Someone was going to have their ass handed to them.

But he was practically foaming out the mouth, shouting for someone, his face a splotchy red.

Olivia had been standing with you, grabbing a cup of coffee, chatting about your plans for the weekend. She wouldn’t say she’d been fishing for information but she did keep prodding for answers. She was curious about what you got up to outside of work. There was no way she would admit to thinking about it as often as she did.

At first, she’d ignored the shouting, nudging you to keep talking. With her eyes on you, it was easy to block out the rest of the world. You smiled and she found herself leaning closer.

When the first shot rang out, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

It was instinct, the way she reached out, forcing you down. Her body covered yours, eyes scanning over the precinct, trying to find where the shots were coming from. Your fingers curled around her forearm, digging in.

She crowded you back against the wall, hidden under the table. A roar punctured the air. She could feel the tremble in your body, keeping herself between you and the danger. She wasn’t about to let anything happen to you.

He crashed through the doors, huge and imposing, lunging forward as he screamed. Your sharp inhalation of breath was loud to her ears, even with the rage. The gun in his hand was being waved around indiscriminately.

It was Elliot who took him down. Of course it was. Testosterone meets testosterone.

She extended a hand to you, helping you to your feet once the man had been disarmed and thrown in lock up. She could feel the tremble in your hand. When your gaze met hers, it was wide eyed, the glisten of tears already receding.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” you said, hand hitting her bicep.

“Do what?” she asked.

“Put yourself in danger,” you said.

She might be able to tell your legs were shaking, but your lips were pressed together and you were fierce. It took her breath away.

“Reflex,” she said with a small shrug.

“I can’t have anything happen to you,” you said, “what would I do if it did?”

Something warm bloomed in her chest.

Butterflies

You laughed, bright and happy, fingers curling around the drink she’d just deposited in front of you. Closing a case always brought out this lighter side in you, like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and you could breathe again. She slid into the booth beside you.

Your thigh was pressed against hers, shoulder brushing her. You were leaning over the table, uncaring of how sticky it was from spilled beer and drunken antics. Elliot was leaning back, debating you about the joys of living in a dorm at college.

“You’re coming at it from the perspective of a father,” you said.

“Well, I have to,” he said back.

“Consider how much growing your kids will go through. They’ll learn to be adults when they don’t have the crutch of you and Kathy to fall back on,” you said.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” he said.

“Wouldn’t it be nice not to do their laundry?”

He just raised an eyebrow at you.

“Liv, back me up here.”

You turned to her, grinning right in her face. It happened in a moment, the flutter of something exploding in her stomach. She blinked, looking down at you, not sure what to do with the feeling. You were still smiling. Each bump of your shoulder only made it worse.

You turned away, but your hand landed on her thigh as you tried to lean further over the table, using it to steady yourself. It was like a shot went off in her heart. It was making it impossible to follow the conversation.

“None of you are fun,” you said, falling back in your seat, reaching for your drink, letting her leg go.

“Or maybe we all appreciate not living in close quarters with other young people,” Munch said.

“I guess I’m the only one who had any fun in college,” you said.

Your hand landed back on her thigh as you shifted, the butterflies going crazy in her stomach. She lent into it, letting herself feel every flap of their wings. With you, it was a pleasant feeling.

Leaning closer

Sitting together in the car, Olivia was doing her best not to keep glancing over at you. Your gaze was trained out the windshield, staring at the front door of the building the both of you were watching. She’d found herself doing that a lot, stealing glances at you when you weren’t likely to look back.

“Who do I have to screw to get a place like this?” you asked, “sorry, that’s not appropriate. Ignore me. I’m tired.”

“Someone with a lotta money,” she replied.

You turned to look at her, lips already pulling up into a smile. She could see how tired you were, dark circles beneath your eyes. It was the early hours of the morning, still dark enough for the street lamps to be lit. She liked you like this, a little loose, a little less filtered than usual.

She liked seeing the inside of your brain.

“Know where I can find one of them?” you asked.

“If I knew that I wouldn’t be out here. I’d be in there, sleeping easy,” she said.

“No you wouldn’t,” you laughed.

She laughed too, finding herself tipping towards you. You were already leaning towards her, head bent like your conversation was intimate. Her eyes dipped down to your lips then back up. Your fingers brushed over the back of her hand.

“You could never give up this job,” you said, voice quiet, “you’ll never stop fighting for the victims.”

She found herself falling into the well of your gravity. You were looking at her like she was something impressive, something wonderful, and she found herself drawing closer. She wanted to feel the heat of your skin, the heat of your gaze, the heat of your admiration.

“That guy look shifty to you?” you said, breaking her out of her thoughts, your gaze having strayed over her shoulder.

She turned away, only just realising how close she’d grown to you. She hadn’t even noticed how far she’d lent towards you. And yet she had known she wanted to be closer.

It was probably for the best that the suspect decided then to try and sneak out. She didn’t have to investigate her feelings if she was distracted by the job.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Blushing

“Yeah yeah,” Olivia called to whoever was trying to hammer her door down.

She’d just closed a case, returning to her apartment to try and catch up on all the sleep she’d lost from her nights awake hunting the sick bastard who did that stuff to those women. Halfway to sleep, the knocking on her door was unappreciated. She was going to kick the ass of whoever had interrupted.

She pulled open the door, coming up short when it was you on the other side.

“Hey, sorry, I know it’s late,” you said.

It was the early hours of the morning but she wasn’t going to get pedantic with you.

“I just… I didn’t want to be alone tonight and so I came here,” you said, “I can go.”

“No, no.” She held the door open wider for you, “come in.”

You slipped past her into her apartment and she could see the heavy slump in your shoulders. You dropped onto her couch, a long sigh passing over your lips.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. We got the guy so I should be fine but every time I close my eyes I just see…” You passed a hand over your face.

“It happens. Some cases stick with us more than others,” she said, sitting beside you.

You fell towards her, head coming to rest on her shoulder. Your cheek pressed to the bare skin of her shoulder, warm and soft and lovely. The weight of it was comfortable. Her irritation dissipated, enjoying the feel of you there with her.

“You’re so good at this,” you sighed.

“Good at this?” she asked.

“Catching the bad guys, not letting it fuck you up,” you replied, “making me feel okay.”

“You are okay,” she replied, finding her fingers running through your hair.

You sat up, turning to look at her. Drawing your legs up, you rested your chin on your bent knees, your gaze sliding along her bare skin. She let you look your fill, not sure what you were seeing.

“How are you still so gorgeous even when you’re woken up in the middle of the night?” you asked, almost a sigh, a small laugh at the end, “it’s just not fair.”

She laughed, even as her cheeks heated. Shaking her head, she let her hair fall forward, hiding her blush from you. Your fingers ran along her forearm, more of a brush than a touch. Peeking up at you, she found you leaning closer.

“I bet you get told all the time, but you really are beautiful,” you said.

She felt herself blush harder.

“Sorry for coming here and waking you up,” you whispered, “you were the only one that was going to make me feel normal again.”

“You know you’re always welcome,” she said.

“Especially if I keep complimenting you?” you asked, lips pulling up into a small smile.

“Those don’t hurt,” she replied.

“Then I think you should know, this nightgown is making it hard to focus on your face,” you said.

Your fingers brushed the silk of her nightgown, right over the warmth of her thigh. Her face was on fire and your eyes were sparkling.

“It’s very pretty,” you murmured.

“Flatterer,” she scoffed.

You pulled back, curling up enough to rest your head on the back of the couch as you gazed at her.

“You mind if I crash on your couch? I know there’s not exactly a plethora of hours left tonight but… my place is too quiet,” you said.

“Let me get you a blanket.”

When she lay down in her own bed, the light from her living room chasing away the dark, she listened to the sound of you settling, wondering if her proximity gave you any comfort. She hoped it did.

Finding excuses to touch you

Olivia’s fingers were soft as they reached out, gently moving your hair out of your face. It had fallen as you’d lent forward, eyes scanning over the file she’d placed on your desk. You glanced up, lips quirking up into a smile. She snatched her hands away, clutching the edge of your desk as she lent against it.

Her fingers itched from the feeling of your soft skin against her fingertips. She was still close enough to feel your warmth. You weren’t even looking at her and she felt the impulse to reach out again.

You looked up at her again, from under your eyelashes.

“Good catch,” you said, “but look at this pattern.”

Her hand rested on your back as she lent forward, looking at the file with you. You lent into her touch, your cheek coming to rest on her bicep. Her heart stuttered in her chest, but you didn’t seem to even notice.

It was like the long nights when her head would drop onto your shoulder. She wouldn’t even think about it, tired and eyes itching, head heavy, sinking into you. When her defences came down she sought out your warmth, wanting to feel you breathe beneath her.

“Gonna go bring him in?” you asked.

You were gazing up at her, lips curling up in a small smile that had her head swimming. Her fingertips brushed over your cheek, brushing your hair away again. You lent into her touch, just until she snatched her fingers away again.

Something warm bloomed in her chest along with embarrassment.

“Good job,” she said before she swept out of the precinct to pick up the perp.

Feeling hot around you

A wolf-whistle rang out across the precinct. It was late enough that the place wasn’t busy. Olivia’s head snapped up, eyes darting from Elliot to the where his gaze was focused. He was leaning back in his seat, grinning as he turned his head towards her.

You were waving away the whistle, a shy smile on your face. In the floor length dress, clinging in all the right places, you were a thing of beauty. She found her breath tumbling over parted lips. A rush of heat went through her, leaving her reeling.

“I take it you’re not going to chase down our suspect,” Munch said.

“Not unless he happens to show up at the restaurant I’m going to. Or the show,” you said with a small shake of your head.

“Hot date?” Elliot asked.

“You offering?” you shot back.

You paused by Olivia’s chair, hip cocked, hand coming to rest on the back of it. You were close enough she could smell the scent of your perfume clinging to your skin. Her skin was heating just from having you so close dressed like that. Looking like that. Leaning forward just enough to draw her eyes to the shadow of the curve of your breast.

Heat washed over her. She felt sweat gather at the skin on the small of her back, climbing up the back of her neck, spreading across her chest. You weren’t even looking at her, resting against her desk as you talked to the boys. But she was so aware of you there, right in touching distance.

“Right, well, try not to have too much fun without me,” you said.

Your chin dipped down, catching her gaze. The wink you shot her went right through her, warmth spreading in her lower stomach.

“Have fun,” you said, voice lowering just for her.

Elliot was giving her another very knowing look once you’d disappeared into the Manhattan evening.

“What?” she snapped.

“You’re looking a little flushed there. Feeling hot under the collar?” he said, that self satisfied grin on his stupid mug.

“Go chase up the ME report.”

His laughter haunted her, cooling the fire you’d left in her veins.

Craving your attention

“And why would they do that?”

Olivia was watching you from her desk, pen clenched between her teeth. You were sitting on Munch’s desk, feet continually kicking at his chair as you stirred your coffee.

“To keep the masses from realising they hold the power to control their destiny in their hands,” Munch replied, “wake up to the group mind think they force us to live in.”

“Sure but… why?” you asked.

The curl of your lips told her you were teasing him, just feeding into his conspiracy theory riddled mind. Still, she would have liked for you to be playing with her instead. She could be just as fun.

“Mass control of the population lets them test experimental drugs for biowarfare in third world countries,” he replied.

“Right. So why did they kill JFK?” you asked.

You didn’t even look at her.

“He was going to shake things up. Watch the way people responded to him. They loved him. He was going to end the mass control before they could pump chemicals into our drinking water,” he replied.

Why weren’t you looking at her?

“Now I’m being poisoned too? When will the madness end?” You scrunched up your nose at him.

Why weren’t you asking her?

“When we can all see the truth they work so hard to obscure,” he said.

She watched you make eye contact with Fin, a shared eye roll she wasn’t invited to partake in. Why wasn’t she invited? Why were you ignoring her? Had she done something to piss you off?

“Keep making that face but you’ll wish you had your freedom soon,” Munch said.

She wanted you to look at her.

“And when I do, you’ll be my first port of call,” you said, patting him on the shoulder.

She wanted you to touch her.

“Now, I’m going out for lunch. If you need me, no you don’t,” you said.

She wanted to get lunch with you.

You left her disappointed. Sweeping out of the precinct, she felt herself stewing in her want. She felt itchy, a desperation clawing up her throat, choking her with want. She wasn’t used to this feeling, a craving she couldn’t seem to sate. No amount of your attention was ever enough, even when she gorged herself on it.

She wanted to drown in it. To revel in it. To let herself split apart from how much of it she received.

Being denied was a feeling she wasn’t able to reconcile. An ache in her bones, a pang in her gut, a twist in her heart.

She was driving herself mad.

Flirting

Sliding into the chair across from you, Olivia glanced down at the paper you were reading.

“Defenestrate. Three down.”

You glanced up, the smile ready on your face. Her foot nudged yours under the table.

“Smarty pants,” you said, but it was so soft it made her heart squeeze.

A flash of blue had her reaching out, grasping your hand. With a soft brush of her fingertip, she smeared the ink stain on your skin.

“Having fun there?” you asked, a slight prod, teasing her as her finger continued to trace over your skin.

“I can think of something more fun to do with you,” she replied.

Your gaze swept over her as she looked up at you from under her eyelashes. Your eyes were sparkling, badly hidden amusement on your face.

“Did you need something from me, detective?” you asked, voice lowering.

She lent closer, her fingertips finding the pulse in your wrist. She could feel it thrumming, fast enough to let her know you weren’t as cool as you appeared. You pressed your wrist more firmly into her touch.

“Am I making you nervous?” she asked, almost a whisper, forcing you to lean closer to catch her words.

“Beautiful women always make me nervous,” you replied.

You were so much better at this than she was.

Her fingers returned to your hand, threatening to intertwine with yours. Her foot nudged at yours again, a gratified purring in her chest when you let yours rest against hers. You were leaning closer, that small smile on your lips ruining her.

“Must be difficult when you look in the mirror then,” she said.

You laughed, soft and beautiful and fond. Your hand moved forward, linking your fingers through hers. Her heart stuttered in her chest.

“How about you follow me home so you can find out?” you said.

You were definitely better at this than she was.

“Gonna protect me from all the big bad beautiful women?” you asked.

“How about some hands on exposure therapy?” she suggested.

“Careful, Liv, or I’ll think you’re serious,” you said.

You flipped your newspaper over to her as you drew your hand back. Standing, you shot her a wink before making your way down the stairs. She looked down at your half finished crossword.

Maybe she was beginning to be serious.

Getting jealous

The air of celebration was palpable. The sick pervert had been put away for a long time and the team had rolled into the usual bar. You were grinning from ear to ear, your laughter coming easy, shoulders loose and light.

And you were talking to Alex.

Olivia had been keeping half an eye on you through the night, the itch to monopolise your attention back. You were so beautiful when you were full of joy. She wanted to celebrate with you.

Instead, you’d ended up in a shadowy corner, Alex’s lips at your ear as she whispered something to you. Your smile was naughty, and when you laughed it was throaty.

Heat crept over Olivia’s skin and something in her stomach clenched. Her fingers tightened around the glass of her beer. You tipped your head closer to Alex, dragging your eyes up to meet hers as a smirk flirted with the corner of your lips.

Alex’s hand reached out, making contact with yours, sliding up, lingering longer than was appropriate. You shifted your weight, growing closer to her. When you took a sip from your own drink, she watched blue eyes focus on your mouth.

“That’s a sour look for someone who just took another perv off the street.”

It was a struggle to tear her eyes from you, focusing on Elliot again. The look he was giving her was so full of understanding it almost made her hit him. She didn’t like the clawing feeling in her chest. The whole thing was getting ridiculous.

“Mind your own damn business,” she said.

“Bet you wouldn’t be saying that to her,” he said, lifting his drink in your direction.

“You don’t know that,” she said.

You laughed again, stealing her attention and her gaze. Alex tucked your hair behind your ear, unaware of the daggers Olivia was glaring at her. You fluttered your eyelashes at her.

“Good thing looks can’t kill,” Elliot muttered, “although it looks like Alex might need witness projection again.”

“Keep talking like that and you’ll need it,” she snapped.

“Touchy,” he said, hiding his knowing smirk behind the neck of the bottle as he drank.

She drained the last of her beer then slammed the bottle down on the bar. Ignoring his continued prodding, she strode towards you. Your gaze was lazy as it dragged to her, your smirk deepening.

“I need to talk to you,” she said through gritted teeth.

“We’re in the middle of-“ Alex began to say before you cut her off.

“Sure.”

Olivia held Alex’s eye, a sense of triumph filling her. Your hand slipped into hers, tugging until she turned away, leading you somewhere more private. Somewhere you wouldn’t be interrupted. Somewhere she could be alone with you. The back corner of the bar. Away from prying eyes.

“What’s up?” you asked, leaning against the wall, looking up at her.

“You and Alex,” she said.

“What about me and Alex?” you asked.

She gave you a look, unimpressed, not playing games with you. She didn’t have the patience. Not as her heart began to tear itself apart just remembering the way the blonde had touched you.

“Am I not allowed to have other friends?” you asked, “or am I not allowed to flirt with other women?”

“So you were flirting?” she asked.

“I didn’t know I had a reason not to,” you said.

That shut her up pretty quickly.

“Liv.” Your voice softened, “what’s going on?”

She hated the pity, the softness, the uncertainty. It scrapped against the jagged edges of the sharp feeling in her chest. Shoving your shoulders against the wall, she looked down at you, really taking you in. She let herself feel it all, all the things she’d been pushing down for months, all the little things she’d begun to take notice within herself, all the things that led back to you. And all you did was look up at her with your pretty eyes and pretty lips, waiting, waiting so patiently.

So she kissed you.

Luckily for her, you kissed her back, hands sliding around her waist, pulling her closer. You didn’t try to stop her or question her. All she knew was that she’d been wondering what it would be like to kiss you for longer than she’d been able to admit to. And now she was.

You sighed into her mouth, such a nice sound it made her kiss you deeper. You were so soft against her, even as you kissed her with a mouth she hadn’t known you’d possessed. Dirty and hot, making her feel weak and desperate, even as you gave her what she wanted. She wanted more.

You made her greedy for things she couldn’t put into words.

She whimpered when you drew away, wanting more, ever more, from you. You were looking at her like she was something precious, like you were blowing her mind, like you understood her hunger.

“Liv,” you sighed.

“Can’t we just?” She lent forward to kiss you again.

You laughed, your hands on her shoulders keeping her back. The sharp sting of rejection bit at her skin until she saw the way you were gazing at her. Your fingers were soft as you tugged on the ends of her hair, fond and easy.

“I’m afraid I’m going to be annoying and ask you what’s going on again,” you said.

“I…” She didn’t have an easy answer.

“Is it maybe that you don’t want me flirting with anyone who isn’t you?” you prompted.

“No, you’re allowed to flirt with whoever you like,” she said.

“But you’d like it if it was you I wanted to flirt with,” you said, not asking, the confident tilt to your head both frustrating and endearing.

“You’re not making this easy on me,” she said.

“I really like you Liv, but I thought I wasn’t your… type,” you said.

“I’m beginning to think I don’t know what my type is,” she said.

Your fingertips brushed over the apple of her cheek, gentle in a way she wasn’t used to. With men, it wasn’t quite like this. It wasn’t so… soft.

It was hard to believe she’d been living without this for so long.

“All I know is that the way I feel about you can only mean one thing,” she said.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Babs might have been right about some things.”

You had been planning your outfit for weeks—something bold, glittery, dripping with energy that matched Chappell Roan’s unapologetic vibe. When you stepped out of the bedroom in your tiny skirt and sheer top, Mariska’s eyes went wide, then darkened in that unmistakable way that made your stomach flip.

Her lips quirked into the kind of slow smirk that always meant trouble. “You’re really going to wear that out in public?” she murmured, gaze dragging over your legs, then back up.

You grinned. “It’s a concert, baby.“

“Mm,” she hummed, stepping closer. “Not everyone is mine.”

She tugged you in by the waist, pressing her mouth to your ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart. Don’t think I won’t make you pay for teasing me like this.”

Your pulse jumped, but all you did was smile sweetly and kiss her cheek. “Guess you’ll just have to behave until after the show.”

Her hand tightened on your hip.

The venue was packed, lights flashing pink and red across the crowd. The bass thumped through your chest, and the air buzzed with wild energy.

You were lost in it—dancing, singing along, letting the music pull you out of yourself. Mariska stood just behind you, taller, solid, protective in the crush of bodies. Her hand never left your waist, fingers slipping lower every time you moved against her.

“Careful,” she warned into your ear when you ground your hips back into her during one of the heavier beats. Her voice was husky, frayed by restraint. “You have no idea how badly I want to bend you over right here.”

The heat in her tone sent a shiver rushing down your spine.

You turned your head just enough to catch her eye, teasing, “What if I want you to?”

Her nostrils flared, jaw clenching. She leaned down, lips brushing your ear in a way that made your knees weak. “Follow me to the bathroom. Now.”

The command was low, firm—brooking no argument.

Your heart slammed in your chest, but your body obeyed before your brain could catch up.

Mariska’s hand was firm around your wrist as she guided you through the crush of bodies, weaving through the crowd with that determined stride that made people part without a second thought. Her grip was possessive, but her eyes—when she glanced back at you—were molten.

The bathroom was packed, lines snaking out the door, but Mariska didn’t hesitate. She pushed through, straight into the farthest stall, shutting and locking it behind you.

Before you could even catch your breath, her mouth was on yours—hard, claiming, her tongue pushing past your lips in a kiss that tasted like wine and restraint finally snapping. Her blazer pressed against your chest as she caged you against the metal partition, her thigh sliding between yours.

“Thought you could tease me out there?” she growled against your mouth. Her hands slid down your sides, fingers digging into your hips. “That skirt. Those legs. Grinding on me like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but she kissed you again, rougher, swallowing your protest. When she finally pulled back, her pupils were blown wide, lips slick.

“On your knees,” Mariska ordered, voice low and dangerous.

Your back hit the stall door as you slid down, sinking to your knees on the cold tile. Mariska leaned back against the toilet lid, spreading her legs, the sight of her already making your mouth water.

She unzipped her pants with steady hands, never breaking eye contact. “You wanted to play, sweetheart. Now you’re going to take care of me.”

Her fingers threaded into your hair, guiding you closer, her scent hitting you sharp and intoxicating. The crowd outside screamed as the next song started, but in here, the only sound that mattered was Mariska’s rough voice, trembling with need.

“Open your mouth,” she commanded softly.

Your lips parted without thought, heat pooling low in your stomach. She smirked, tugging your head closer until your mouth pressed against her, your tongue flicking over her slick folds.

“That’s it,” she hissed, thighs tightening around your head. “My good girl. Don’t stop.”

Your tongue traced slow, deliberate strokes over her pussy, tasting the sharp heat of her arousal. The grip in your hair tightened, forcing your face closer until you could barely breathe.

“Fuck just like that,” Mariska hissed, her voice breaking low. The sound was drowned out by the bass pounding through the walls, but you felt it vibrate in her chest when she tugged your hair harder.

You circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, teasing, before sucking it between your lips. Her hips bucked against your mouth, thighs trembling on either side of your head.

“Don’t you stop—” her breath caught, her head thumping back against the stall wall. “God, you’re such a good girl for me. My perfect girl.”

You moaned against her, the vibrations making her groan louder. She rocked into your mouth, grinding herself down against your tongue, slick coating your chin.

“Take it deeper,” she ordered through clenched teeth, pushing your head lower. “Fucking eat me, baby. Make mommy cum.”

The words made your stomach twist with heat, and you obeyed, pushing your tongue as deep as you could before sliding back up to suck her clit hard.

Her thighs clamped around your head, shaking. “Yes—yes, don’t stop, I’m—”

Her whole body tensed, her hand fisting painfully tight in your hair as she came hard against your mouth. Wetness gushed onto your tongue, dripping down your chin, her groans muffled by the music thundering outside.

“Fuck, baby,” she gasped, hips jerking uncontrollably as you kept licking, riding her through it. “You’re gonna make me cum again if you don’t stop.”

Mariska tried to push your head back, weak from release, but you caught her wrist and pinned it against her thigh, tongue already lapping her sensitive clit.

Her sharp gasp turned into a ragged moan. “Baby—fuck, it’s too much.”

But her hips told another story, jerking forward, grinding against your mouth as if her body betrayed her words. You sucked harder, dragging your tongue in slow, relentless circles until she cried out, her voice strangled.

“Don’t—don’t stop, oh my god,” she begged, eyes squeezed shut as her thighs trembled. “Good girl, make me cum again. Show me what that mouth is for.”

The music outside shifted into another bass-heavy track, the screams of the crowd muffling her own desperate noises. You flattened your tongue, lapping broad strokes as slick spilled down your chin, your fingers digging into her thighs to hold her steady.

She clutched your hair so tight it almost hurt, dragging you closer as her chest heaved. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

Her whole body seized, another violent wave tearing through her. She came again, wetter this time, thighs clamping around your head like a vice as her back arched off the wall.

“Yes, that’s it,” she gasped, riding your mouth shamelessly. “Make mommy cum, make her messy.”

You kept going until she sagged against the stall, trembling, breath broken into shaky groans. Her hand finally loosened in your hair, stroking instead of pulling.

“Jesus Christ,” Mariska whispered, her voice hoarse. “What am I gonna do with you?”

You finally eased back, chin slick, lips swollen from working her over. Mariska’s chest was still heaving, hair sticking to her damp forehead as she looked down at you, wrecked.

You pressed soft kisses to the inside of her trembling thighs, then higher, placing one just above her mound before tucking her skirt back down to make her decent again. She let out a shaky laugh, cupping your cheek.

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” she murmured, but her eyes were molten, tender. “And I love you for it.”

You kissed her hand, then rose to your feet. Mariska caught your mouth in a messy, breathless kiss, tasting herself on your tongue. Her teeth grazed your bottom lip before she pulled back, smiling wickedly.

“We have to get out of here before security kicks us out,” she whispered, smoothing your hair and wiping at your chin with her thumb.

You smirked. “Think they’d really stop you?”

She rolled her eyes but squeezed your waist, grounding herself. After another lingering kiss, she unlocked the stall. You slipped out first, wiping your mouth discreetly, and the two of you joined the buzz of the crowd again, her hand finding yours instantly.

As the next song started, Mariska leaned close to your ear, her breath hot. “We can continue this at home,” she promised, voice low and dangerous.

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER

It had started at one of those horrible mixer parties for the various departments of the NYPD to come together and pretend they actually liked each other. You rarely attended these parties; stuck so far into an undercover mission, there was no way to get out, but you had regretfully been able to wrap up this last case early. You didn’t want to experience the chaos of parties; your last few months had been a pure shit show, and all you really wanted was some quiet time to decompress.

 Before you could be congratulated for your most recent takedown, full of fake smiles and jealous glares, you had snuck away from the crowd. You were standing on the roof looking out at the shining lights of the bustling city below. A cigarette was perched between your lips, a lighter twirled in your fingers, but you made no move to set the spark. For now, you wanted to teeter right on the edge, as if this choice alone could change the entire trajectory of your life.

It does, but not in the way you expect.

~-~

You hear her before you see her. The click of heels cuts through the horns below, and it sends a shiver up your spine. Even without looking, you know that the person wearing them demands attention every time she walks into a room. That she is the kind of woman who could snap you in half without really trying, and it already drives you crazy. When she finally spots you, she swears lightly.

“I steal your hideaway?” You ask through a huff of laughter.

“Maybe, I do come up here for a little breather during every party, never had a guest on my turf before,” she replies, coming to stand by your side. “You can make it up to me if you let me steal that.”

She doesn't wait for an answer, just plucks the cigarette from your mouth, placing it between the soft lines of her lips. It is the first time you turn to pay attention to the intruder of your peace. With one look, you know who she is immediately. 

Olivia Benson.

Everyone knew fucking Olivia Benson. She was a badass, a legend, and a pain in the ass for those who went against her. Not only that, but she was fucking hot. And she was standing in front of you, her lips wrapped around your cigarette, in a tight black dress that hugs her every curve. You fumble with the lighter for a second before it flickers to life. 

When the cigarette starts to send smoke to the clouds, Olivia grins, taking a large puff before exhaling it into a perfect ring. She wasn't just a smoker, but one who had perfected her technique for years.

“Thanks, Y/L/N,” she grins.

“You know my name,” you mutter in utter amazement. 

She laughs, and you find your new favorite sound. “Of course I do. Half of those people downstairs wish they had a CI like you. The other half wishes they could be the CI. You are one of the most prestigious detectives in the Organized Crime unit. Lieutenant Bell talks very highly of you.”

“Ayanna probably talks some shit too,” you giggle, thinking of your best friend fondly. “Being partners for ten years really does change people.”

Olivia nods with a little pang in her heart, knowing that fact all too well. As you continue talking, she peers at you and how your eyes twinkle from the lights strung across the roof. It’s an instant attraction that vibrates across her skin. You are an enigma in the policing world. A detective who works mostly undercover as Ayanna’s personal CI. You never stay in one place for too long, content to transform your identity to whatever she needs, and have a flawless record for bringing down crime lords. Olivia desperately wants to know everything about you.

Which changes the trajectory of every moment from that minute forward. 

~-~

SIX YEARS EARLIER

You are out on the balcony pulling your jacket tighter around your shoulders as the cold wind whips around you. Snowflakes swirl in little tornadoes, coating your hair in tiny white dots. The city isn't exactly quiet, but muffled, as if the storm cut away some of the urgency. 

The door behind you clicks open, and arms wrap around your waist. You nestle back into Olivia as she leans her chin on your shoulder, letting her brown hair cascade down your chest.

“Why do I always find you out in the cold?” Your girlfriend hums as she kisses your cheek. “One day you are going to freeze out here.”

Your arms come to settle on top of hers, squeezing her closer to you. “It is my favorite place to think.”

“What are we thinking about my gorgeous future wife?” Olivia asks, and your heart immediately quickens.

She has been doing this for weeks now, dropping little teasing hints about marrying you. Everywhere you go together, she introduces you as her future wife. She will casually ask about ring designs, sizes, and joke about all the potential spots she could propose. She has even gone as far as purposefully dropping things and leaning down on one knee to make you think she will ask the question. She hasn't, though, and the anticipation is driving you crazy.

You blink to remember what you were thinking about before she caught you off guard. Your response comes out in a choked whisper, “I told Ayanna I'm done being a CI.”

Olivia whips you around her eyes, frantically roaming your face. “Are you serious?” When you nod, a mixture of relief and trepidation flickers across her features. “But you love being a CI. You have been undercover since you became a detective; you aren’t made for being a paper pusher.”

“I do love being undercover, but I love being at home with you more,” you reply, cupping her cheek. “I can’t build a future with you if I'm constantly gone. For the first time in my life, I'm choosing to plant roots and create a life that I want, not one that was made for me to play. I want this. I want you.”

Olivia smashes her lips into yours, and suddenly you're not cold anymore. You are burning from the inside out.  She pulls away, panting, and presses her forehead against yours.

“Marry me,” she whispers as the snow continues to drench your clothes. 

“Liv…” you stutter, “are you serious?”

“Marry. Me.” Olivia says, grabbing your ass to lift you.

You curl your legs around her hips, laughter spilling from your lips. She pulls a ring out from her back pocket and holds it out to you. You whisper a yes, and she slides it onto your finger. Seconds later, she is showering you in kisses along your face and cheeks. Within moments, she is navigating through the boxes still spread around your new shared apartment and throws you onto the bed. She spends the rest of the night mapping out your body with her hands and tongue.

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

“Benson,” Olivia says as she twirls her pen back and forth between her fingers.

The pen bounces off her ring, and she smiles as the light catches it. Wedding planning has been slow, and you have tried to convince Olivia to do a courthouse wedding for months, but she won't budge. She wants to do this right. She wants to share this moment with all the people she loves most. 

“Can you come down to my office?” Melinda’s familiar voice rings out over the line, cutting Olivia from these thoughts. “I have something you are going to want.”

Olivia is already grabbing for her things. “Is it about the Duponte case?”

“No…it's more of a personal matter, come alone and quickly. I don’t have much time.”

The line goes dead, and a sense of dread fills Olivia. She rushes to the medical examiner’s office without even stopping to tell the rest of the squad why she has gone. There is a piece of her that wonders if maybe something has happened to you, but the chance is low since you took a step back from fieldwork, and she knows Ayanna would have called her first. So she is only left with the worst-case scenarios rushing through her head. By the time she gets to Melinda, her heart is beating rapidly.

“Melinda, what is going on?” Olivia asks as the other woman leans back in her chair, looking grimmer than usual. 

“It is about your and Y/N’s embryo fusion.” 

Olivia’s stomach drops. There had been such a stall in the process that Olivia hadn’t even thought about it in months. Now Melinda’s words send a shiver down her spine. Melinda has always been so excited about this experiment, but she looks like she is about to cry.

 You had gone through months of painful experimentation for Melinda to work on combining an embryo that would perfectly combine you and Olivia. While you had been bedridden and sick almost every day for a month, Olivia had fared much better with only mild symptoms. She had considered calling off the process more than once, but you had refused. Ever since then, Melinda had been working frantically to get as much done as possible before the new administration enforced their conservative views. Even with the rush, it had been weeks since any update had been given on the experiment.

“Did something happen to the latest sample?” Olivia asks with a waver in her voice. “I don’t know if Y/N is strong enough to go through another round.”

“There won’t be any more rounds. I had to cancel the experiment, political bullshit got in the way,” Melinda sighs, a hint of frustration lacing her words. “They ordered me to destroy all the samples. I'm telling everyone today.”

Olivia’s heart sinks. It had always been an outlandish idea, but part of her had always hoped that she could have been a mom. Then, when Melinda had given her the hope that she could have an actual baby with you, not one through sperm donation, it had completely changed her world. She feels tears pricking in her eyes and a rock building in the base of her throat.

“Did you tell Y/N?” She chokes out.

“No… because I'm not destroying yours,” she explains in a hushed tone before she slips a small vile into Olivia's hand. 

“Melinda!” Olivia protests, looking at the substance that sloshes in the container. “You could lose your job, all future funding, or go to prison.”

Melinda nods solemnly, “I could… but I know how badly you and Y/N wanted that child. I remember how many hours you spent caring for Y/N while she got sick from the meds for the procedure. I remember how you never gave up hope. Hell, she had every side effect but refused to stop because it was so important to her. It may not even work, Liv…but I had to give you a fighting chance. Fuck the political bullshit, you two deserve to be parents.” 

Olivia is openly crying now, her hands shaking as she slides the vile into her jacket pocket, “Melinda…thank…thank you.”

Footsteps echo in the hallway, and Melinda pushes Olivia to the back exit. “The sample will only last twelve hours. It needs to be kept warm at all times. Don't breathe a word of this to anyone.”

Before more explanation can happen, Melinda slams the door on Olivia. She pauses for only a moment, looking into the sliver of glass. It is just enough space for her to see Melinda slip a file into the very back of her desk before armed guards step in the door. Olivia doesn't wait to see what happens next, just rushes down the stairs and out of the building.

She plans a romantic evening that night, with your favorite takeout, a silly blanket fort that consumes the whole living room, and your favorite movie on the TV. She can tell that you had a stressful day the moment you walk in the door. There is a tension in your shoulder and a clip in your walk as you throw your bag into the closet. However, the moment you see the scene in front of you, there is a smile on your face. 

“What in the world are you doing, Olivia Benson?” You laugh as she rushes to grab you into a hug.

She kisses your lips as she twirls you around, “making a romantic night for me and my future wife where I can spoil her with love and affection and give her the best surprise ever.”

“Is the surprise that you are finally going to give in and let me have my courthouse wedding?” You ask with a slight glint in your eye. 

Olivia chuckles, kissing down your jawline. “Never going to happen, my love.” When you groan, she slides something into your hand instead. “This is better, trust me.”

“What could be better than marrying you tomorrow?” You question, but your heart catches when you look down at the vile in your hand. “Liv.. is this… is this what I think it is?”

“Melinda’s experiment got canceled. She was supposed to destroy all the embryos, but she saved ours. If we don’t use it tonight… it will be lost forever,” Olivia whispers, tears coming back to her eyes. “I know this isn’t how we planned this at all, but…”

You capture your fiancé in a desperate kiss. Your hands find their way into her dark hair, your nails scrape against her scalp as you bite down on her lip. She moans into your mouth, and you immediately feel the tension low in your stomach start to build.

You pull away from her, your breath flowing over her lips in hot gaps. Her eyes are dark as she gazes up at you, and you can’t help but smile. You are going to marry this woman. You are going to build a family with this woman, and it all starts tonight. 

“Put a baby in me,” you growl out. “Right. Now.”

Your fiancé lets out a teasing chuckle. “You don’t want to wait till after dinner?”

“Olivia Margaret Benson. If you don’t fucking throw me on that mattress and breed me right now, I swear to fucking god.”

She doesn’t need another invitation, just tosses you over her shoulder, stalking to the living room. Before she throws you onto the makeshift bed in the middle of the floor, she slaps your ass. You let out a squeal of delight, which is silenced when Olivia smashes her lips into yours. There is a scramble to see who can get undressed quicker. You pull at the hem of her shirt as she fumbles with the button on your slacks. 

When her shirt is tossed to the side and your pants are in a puddle around your feet, you can tell that Olivia is getting impatient. She looks at your button-up shirt for only a second before she locks her fingers in it and pulls. Fabric rips and buttons fly around the room. You can barely catch your breath before the cup of your bra is pushed down and her mouth finds your nipple. You let out a gasp as her teeth bite down, as her other hand drifts down her belly. 

“That was my favorite shirt,” you moan, fingers going to lace through your hair. 

“I don’t fucking care. I’ll buy you a new one,” Olivia says before switching to the other breast. 

She bites and sucks marks all along the underside of your breasts before kissing down your stomach. Her fingers gently trace over your stomach, and your heart flutters. 

“I can’t wait to get you pregnant. To see you walk around with my child inside of you every day. For your belly to grow and the whole world to know you are mine. All fucking mine.”

You are a whimpering mess at her words, too excited to find anything clever to say. Her eyes linger on your stomach for a moment as if she can already imagine the way that you are going to change and grow. 

“Liv,” you whimper, “please.”

“I know mi amore,” she whispers, kissing the skin right above your belly button. “I am just trying to get you warmed up.”

Her kisses continue further down until she is spreading your legs open. Her fingers dig into your thighs as you feel her warm breath across your clit. You involuntarily buck upwards, and Olivia can’t help but grin. She doesn’t waste any time, too far gone to care much about anything else. Her tongue swipes upwards before she frantically sucks on your clit. You don’t care that the orgasm is coming hard and fast; all that you care about is getting Olivia inside of you as quickly as possible. 

It is only a couple of moments later that two fingers slide easily inside of you, and you scream from the sudden friction. It isn’t exactly what you were hoping for, but it will do for the moment. Her fingers curl inside of you, hitting that perfect spot as her thumb circles your clit hard and fast. There is no teasing today, only the burning desire to claim you as hard and fast as possible. 

“Liv…oh shit…oh shit…oh shit,” you chant out as she nibbles your clit softly before soothing it with a broad stroke of her tongue. 

“Come on, my love, give me what is mine,” she growls, her fingers never slowing. “Come for me. I know you can do it.”

Seconds later, you shatter, back arching off the blankets as your vision blurs around the edges. Your first orgasm is never this hard, but the thought of what is to come next is sending you into a spiral. Once you are slightly settled, Olivia pulls away, and you whimper at the loss of contact, reaching for her. 

She grabs your hand, kissing the back of it gently. “Mi amore, I have to get it ready. Just sit there and look gorgeous. I will be back in a couple of moments.”

You merely nod and sink back into the comfort of the blankets as you try to catch your breath. Olivia returns a few moments later with a black strap tightened around her hips. You wish you could say that you cared about how this all worked, but you really didn’t. Not when she told you to get on your hands and knees. In that moment, all you cared about was being fucked and filled into peaceful oblivion.

When she sinks into you, a guttural moan escapes your lips, and you fall forward onto your elbows. Olivia grabs a handful of your hair, pulling you up slightly as she starts a slow rhythm with her hips. She leans over your back, and you can feel her hard nipples rubbing against your skin as she whispers in your ear. 

“You don’t know how long I have been waiting for this. To feel you shatter beneath me while I fill you up with my baby. To be able to see you grow and for the whole fucking world to know that I am the one you belong to.”

“I am yours, all yours,” you pant as she picks up speed. “Please, Liv.”

“Please, what mi amore?” She teases but doesn’t slow down. There is nothing she can do to stop herself today. She is a monster possessed, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t craving to hear you say that you want this just as much as she does.

“Fuck…shit…Liv,” you whimper, hands clawing at the sheets. “Fill me with your baby. Make me yours. I want to whole world to know I am yours.”

Olivia grins and pushes the button low in the harness to release the solution that she placed inside. As you feel it squirt inside of you, the last of your resolve shatters, and you come around her. Your fiancé follows shortly after chanting your name like a broken prayer. 

When she finally pulls out, you whimper slightly at the loss. She kisses your forehead softly to soothe you before moving to clean you up. After she is done, Olivia finally crawls into bed next to you, pulling you into her side. As she drifts off to sleep, she traces random patterns along your skin. 

“Do you think it will work?” you ask through a soft yawn. 

“I sure hope it does.”

THREE MONTHS LATER

It doesn’t start out as a big explosion; it really is just a combination of small things that finally erupt into something larger. 

You don’t know what is going on with your body or your mind, but deep down, you know something is wrong. You are on edge at all times, and everything sets you off (in anger and tears), and you feel out of control. You try to talk to your doctor about it, get your meds changed, but your complaints are ignored or dismissed. You feel yourself going crazy, and it starts to eat at you, so you stop taking them entirely. It helps with the sickness you feel initially, but soon every morning you are nauseous with a pounding headache that settles right between your eyes and doesn’t let up. 

Olivia is supportive and caring, trying her best to piece together what is going on. She encourages you to try different doctors, to get the answers you are looking for, but the mention only spirals into more anxiety. Eventually, you turn to snapping at her. You know you shouldn’t, but sometimes that pitiful look on her face when she stares at you is too much. You are exhausted from being the focus of her care, when you know that you should be the one in control of your own emotions. There is a part of you that wants her to yell, scream, anything other than look at you like you are something that needs to be fixed. 

So you start fights just to get a reaction out of her. At first, she can keep it together, her calm mask never cracking, but eventually it snaps. You spend more time arguing with slamming doors than lying in bed together laughing. Then, eventually, Olivia starts spending nights at the precinct to avoid arguments; the gray brick building consumes her whole day, and you feel neglected. It is a misery of your own making, but you feel so lost in your own mind that you don’t know how to get out of it. 

You decide to follow her for a day to see what she is up to. At first, it's just normal work stuff, but eventually, when everyone has left for the day, Olivia turns away from the house and continues with her day. She holes up in a bar that you have never seen before, and your heart sinks. There was a little piece of you that worried about her cheating, but you swore that she would never betray you in that way. However, there is a nagging that pushes you into the bar just to make sure. 

You find her sitting in a booth tucked in the corner. You can tell that she is upset, with tears welling in the brown eyes that you have come to memorize. It causes a flicker of pain to go through your heart before it is replaced by anger when you see who is comforting her. Elliot Stabler has one arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other gently caressing her thigh. The look on his face is one of slight concern, but there is something buried deeper, and you know instantly, he wants to fuck your future wife. 

Your steps aren’t your own as you storm towards the table. “You have got to be fucking kidding me, Olivia.”

Her head snaps up, a flicker of guilt crossing her face as she wipes away the tears frantically. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” 

“Trying to figure out why my wife has decided to spend all her time at work instead of at home with me,” you snap and then look at Elliot, who is still holding Olivia closely. “I am not shocked that out of all the people in the world, you chose him to fall into bed with. I knew there was something between you two, but you kept telling me I was delusional. Now look at the proof right in front of me.”

“We aren’t together,” Olivia says, attempting to untangle herself. At the same time, Elliot bristles, his words coming out in a growl. “Maybe she wouldn’t have to turn to me if you weren’t such a bitch all the time and give her what she actually needs.”

The words are a harsh punch to the gut, and your head fills with insecurities. It has been a while since you and Olivia have been together; you have been too sick or pissed off to think about it, and you knew she was being patient. However, there was always that sinking feeling that her patience could only last for so long, and now here was Elliot confirming everything that you felt. You choke back tears and look at Olivia. 

“You told him about our fucking love life?”

Olivia has the decency to look embarrassed, “he is one of my best friends. I am sure that you tell Ayanna about us all the time.”

“No, never,” you say as a single tear falls down your face. “I go to you when we are having problems. You haven’t been there… I have been all alone.”

“And whose fault is that, Y/N? You have been pushing me away every chance that you get. I don’t even think you love me anymore.” The other woman points out, and the final piece of you shatters.

“I have never stopped loving you, not once,” you stammer but the look on Olivia’s face makes you realize that she doesn’t feel the same. “How could you ever think so little of me?”

Olivia’s typically well-controlled anger finally breaks. Her eyes darken as she glares at you, “Y/N, you are acting unstable. I don’t know what has been up with you lately, but you need to get back on your fucking meds.”

It is the sentence that explodes the rest of your life. You have always told Olivia how making medication is hard for you, how you always feel like the butt of some unknown joke, and how desperately you wish that you could be normal without them. You are crying now, tears making a path down your face before you can even stop them. Olivia’s face softens for a second as she realizes what she has done, but you don’t care anymore. 

 “Fuck you, Olivia Benson. Fuck you,” You grit out, taking the glass from the table and tossing the red wine at both of them. 

You don’t wait to see where it lands, you don’t hear when Olivia tries to call after you, or notice the way that Stabler holds her back from chasing you. The only thing you can think about right now is getting somewhere safe. Which is how you end up on your best friend Ayanna’s couch, drinking straight from a large bottle of wine.

“Maybe you need some time away,” Ayanna says gently as you fill her in on everything that has been going on. “Come back with a different perspective on life. You always felt better after going under for a bit. The undercover mission should only last a couple of months at most. It isn't a complex case, a little money laundering, a little skimming money off the top, we just need to know why. ”

“I can't go undercover without telling Olivia,” you protested, swirling the glass. “Plus, you know that really isn't my scene anymore, Aya.”

“It’s like riding a bike. You never really forget. Spend the night here, sleep on it, and talk to Olivia tomorrow.”

You get back to your apartment early the next morning, a little hungover, but determined to make things right with Olivia. Your key slides into the lock, and there is a shiver that runs up your spine, something to warn you that things have already gone horribly wrong. When you enter the apartment, it is quiet and completely bare. All of Olivia’s personal items have been stripped away: her clothes gone from the closet, books pulled off the shelves, pictures taken from frames. There is a note on the counter in her swirling handwriting that explains it all. 

I don’t think I can do this anymore, at least not now. I am calling off the wedding, and I think we should spend some time apart…to figure out who we are…to remember why we fell in love. I am not saying that we are done forever, just for now.

You wait for the tears to come, but they don’t. Instead, you stand there and feel nothing at all. Finally, you pick up the phone and dial Ayanna’s number. 

“I’ll go undercover. Today.”

ONE MONTH LATER

The case was supposed to be simple. The Reznikov family was an up-and-coming Russian powerhouse that had created a chain of small butcher shops. Their success was unprecedented, and they were growing quickly- too quickly. It was believed that Galina, aka “Red”, the mother to her three boys, Michael, Nicholas, and Simon, was skimming money off the top of local charities to propel the family’s success. You were to go in as her new assistant and figure out where the money was coming from and what it was being used for. You would find out shortly into the undercover that it was much more complex than that, and once you were in the jaws of the family, there was no getting out, and 1PP was content letting you stay there as long as it took, no matter how desperately you tried to free yourself. 

Things became even more complicated when Red pushed you into the bathroom with a box full of pregnancy tests that you swore you didn’t need, but she insisted you take anyway. 

“Malyshka (baby girl)! What does it say?” Red asks, pounding on the door.

You don’t even have to wait for the timer to beep; the results come back with shocking speed. All tests have the word pregnant etched in them. You are pregnant and have been for some time. Suddenly, it hits you like a knife to the gut: it’s Olivia’s baby. You had been so convinced it wouldn’t work, you had never thought to check before now. 

“This can't be fucking happening,” you stutter, punching the mirror in front of you. It shatters into a thousand pieces, your hand blooming with blood.

Red bursts through the door, taking in the scene. She cleans the cuts along your knuckles, wrapping them tightly in towels before she glances at the counter. She grins, hugging you tightly like this should be good news.

“Don't worry about a thing, Malyshka, the sem’ya (family) will take care of you. You are one of us now.”

For years, you have been desperate for a family, anything to hold onto and call your own. Red has been nice, defending you from her boys who try to harm you, but this isn’t the family you wanted. You had thought that this family would be with Olivia. Now you are stranded undercover, unable to reach the mother of your child, and forced to have your daughter born into a life of crime. You try to get out, you try to contact Olivia, but from that moment forwar,d Red watches you like a hawk, dotes over you like a concerned mother, and you would be lying if you said that you allow it to happen for the mission. No, you fall into Red’s web because you feel desperately alone, and you know it is the only way for your daughter to survive. 

Viola Nova Benson

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"Sweetheart, what do you have there?" Olivia said, walking back into the room. You smiled, "Look! It's your uniform!", you excitedly told her. Holding it up, she smiled smugly, taking the fabric in her hands and caressing it. Almost as if the mere sight of it brought back memories. Gently taking it from your hands, she told you, "How about I show it off for you, darling?" You nodded excitedly, already moving out of the room to give her space to change.

"Alright, love. You can come in now." Quickly opening the door, you took in the sight that was your beautiful girlfriend. Her blouse fit her perfectly, and the dark navy pants hugged all her curves just right. The look almost made you salivate, imagining all the things she could do to you in that uniform. She radiated dominance in this outfit, almost like she knew what it was doing to you. Rubbing your legs together, you tried to keep the heat in your pants from rising. Unfortunately, your girlfriend knew you too well, and even better, your body signals.

"You okay, love? You seem a little worked up." She said teasingly. She knew damn well why you were worked up; she was the whole reason for god's sake. Walking up to you, she leaned into your ear, "See something you like?" She leaned back and looked into your eyes. You tried to avert her gaze, but she grabbed your chin and turned your head back to look at her. "Sweetheart, I asked you a question." Looking into her eyes, you slowly nodded and downturned your gaze again. Olivia sighed contentedly, knowing how much power she had now.

"Oh, baby, you could've just said so, instead of getting so worked up." She said, putting her free hand on your waist and pulling you in. "Do you want me to make that ache go away, sweety?" This time, you wasted no time nodding at her. She crashed her lips on yours, and you gladly returned her kiss. The hand on your waist pulled you to the bed, where she sat and pulled you onto her lap. You straddled her, taking your shirt in your hands and pulling it over your head. Next, you quickly unclipped your bra and threw it across the room. Liv wasted no time and attacked your neck and chest. When you tried to unbutton her jacket, she took your hands and pushed them away.

"Not so fast, sweetheart, don't you want the captain to make you feel good?" The heat between your legs only got hotter; her taking dominance over you was way too hot. You put your hands around her neck, and she started to unbutton your jeans. Quickly standing to take them off, you were now left in only your underwear. Olivia grabbed your waist and threw you around, having her now on top of you. She teasingly slid her middle finger over your clothed slit, making your breath hitch. You moaned into her open-mouthed kiss, grinding your hips towards her hand. She hooked her fingers into your panties and slid them off in a smooth motion.

"So wet baby, is this all for me?" You hummed, too desperate for pleasure to think straight. She slowly slid her finger towards your clit, rubbing in small and steady circles. Your hips thrusted slightly, so she used her free hand to lightly hold them down. After teasing your sensitive clit, she slid her finger towards your sensitive hole. Gently teasing your entrance, she took some of your wetness on her fingers and tasted it. Humming contentedly, her fingers went back to your hole. She used her middle finger first, sliding into your wet cunt with ease. Then, she slightly pulled out, making you whimper. When she entered again, she used two of her fingers, making you clench your walls down onto her.

She curled her fingers in you, hitting that spot deep inside you. You let out a loud moan, making her smirk. She knew she could make you feel good, but you loudly confirming it only made her ego bigger. She continued to curl her fingers while slightly moving in and out. The sensation was making you feel so good, causing you to throw your head back. All of a sudden, you feel her starting to rub your clit. The combination made the pleasure even better. Olivia leaned in, kissing your lips and swallowing your sweet sounds. You kissed back, opening your mouth for her tongue to enter.

The coil in your stomach was getting tighter with every move, something that Olivia was well aware of. Her mouth moved lower, starting its assault on your neck. Tonight's activities would definitely be visible tomorrow, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. The intense pleasure was making you try to close your legs, but Liv quickly used her hand to keep them open. All of a sudden, she got off the bed and was on her knees on the floor. Before you could question her, her mouth moved onto your clit. The feeling of her warm tongue on your sensitive pussy made you cry out, the new sensation mind-blowing.

She kept up her speed with her hand while she sucked on your clit, causing the coil to wind up tighter and tighter. With one final stroke, the coils snapped, and your orgasm washed over you. Liv rode the wave out with you, taking her fingers out gently. You whined at the feeling of emptiness, a pout on your lips. She gave you a quick kiss before getting up, walking to the bathroom to wash her hands, and getting a towel to clean you up. After taking care of you, she took off her clothes and climbed into the bed with you, pulling you into her. She pecked your cheek one last time before you fell asleep in the arms of the love of your life.

You could tell she was exhausted, no matter how well Captain Olivia Benson thought she did at hiding it. You could tell her shoulders were knotted and that under her stern front that she was thankful it was the weekend. She was ready to pack up and head home, really, it’s all she wanted after a week like this.

Her eyes dropped slightly, a small flicker of vulnerability peeking through the armor she wore. You offered her a soft smile, just to let her know you could hear the unspoken words. In return she nods ever so lightly before she turns her attention back to the paperwork in front of her.

By now, most of the team had already packed up and clocked out. Bruno of course was staying back to smash out whatever he could on his pile of paperwork.

You finished up signing off on the last report before pushing back from your desk. Your muscles ached slightly from the long periods of being hunched over files, the knot in your neck begged for relief. Your eyes glanced over at Olivia’s office one last time, she’d now thrown her long hair into a messy bun, something she usually does when she needs to focus better.

The relationship between you and Olivia wasn’t exactly a secret. Of course, the team knew but the two of you were nothing more than professional when at work. When Olivia looked up, feeling your gaze on her, she knew you were headed home. Her lips tugged a small smile as if to say she’d see you later.

You gathered up your things and grabbed your coat before giving Bruno who barely looked up from his laptop a quick wave. The drive home was a blur of traffic lights and dark alleyways. By the time you pulled into the underground parking complex of Olivia’s apartment building, and you turned the engine off, the weight of the week started to feel a little bit lighter. You unlocked the door and kicked your shoes off almost instantly. The soft glow from the lamp that Olivia left on this morning lit the small hallway where you’d hang your coat by the door. The clock on the wall ticked steadily as if marking the minutes until Olivia would be home.

It wasn’t long, fifteen minutes exactly before you heard the jiggle of keys in the front door as you finished a glass of water. Olivia’s silhouette framed by the soft glow of the lamp in the hallway, she was drained. Her deep brown eyes heavy and her messy bun slightly messier than when you last saw her only half an hour ago. She dropped her bag by the door near the shoe rack and locked the door behind her.

You leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching as she slowly approached you. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around your waist, gently pulling you closer. “Thank god this week is over” you murmur, your voice low. “Yeah” she softly replied as you stood up straight in her arms. You lean forward just a little, pressing a kiss on her left cheek. “How about we get you into something a little more comfortable?” You said before kissing her softly.

Olivia didn’t resist as you took her hand gently and guided her towards her bedroom. The short hall to her room felt shorter than usual, her fingers intertwined with yours as you pushed the bedroom door open with your free hand. Olivia flicked the light on and let out a quiet sigh when her eyes landed on her king-sized bed. You released her hand and turned to her, your hands already working at the buttons on her blouse. The fabric parted and revealed her simple black bra. Her skin was warm as you gently peeled the shirt off her shoulders.

She shrugged out of it fully, letting the blouse drop to her carpet with a soft whisper. Your eyes traced the curve of her collarbone and down to the swell of her breast. You stepped slightly closer, your fingers gently hooking onto the straps of her bra and sliding them down her arms, “you carry too much” you whispered, your eyes now looking into hers. “Let me take care of you” you added.

Olivia’s breath came a little quicker, her exhaustion melting into something more insistent.

“God, you look beautiful” you murmured, your palms gently cupping her breasts before your thumbs kindly brushed over her hardening nipples. Olivia inhaled sharply, her hands moving to your waist, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You knew it was a bit of a rare moment when Olivia would let you take the lead, so you allowed her this moment. Raising your arms, she pulled your shirt over your head. Her eyes darkened slightly with intent as she pressed her body against yours, her bare chest soft and still warm as she gently backed you towards the bed.

Her lips crashed onto yours in a kiss that was nothing more than heat and no hesitation. Your tongue tangled with hers as her hands roamed your back before you hit the edge of the mattress and sank down. Olivia broke the kiss to trail her lips along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering, “I think I can handle that”.

You smiled softly before flipping positions, straddling her waist, pinning her beneath you as a light chuckle escaped her lips. You began kissing down her neck, sucking marks into her warm skin all while your hands worked on unbuttoning and unzipping her pants. Olivia slightly lifted her hips, helping you drag the black pants down her legs along with her panties.

She was already glistening, her lips swollen from the short foreplay. You traced your hands up her tights, parting them wider ever so gently before pressing kisses along her inner thighs, teasing her sensitive skin until she squirmed.

“Please, baby” she breathed, her voice cracking just a little.

You couldn’t help the light smirk that tugged at your lips as you spread her folds with two fingers, exposing her pink and wet clit that peeked from its hood. You licked a slow stripe from her entrance to her clit, savoring the salty tang. A small moan escaped Olivia’s lips as her fingers began to thread through your hair.

“Fuck!” Olivia gasped as her free hand gripped the bed sheets. You began to circle your tongue around her clit with firm and deliberate strokes, she moaned louder with each stroke of your tongue, bucking her hips slightly to chase her high. She was desperate, you could tell. Every ounce of stress from this week fueled her need for you to make her scream, the way her thighs soon began to close around you only drove you to tease her a little more.

One hand slipped up her thigh until your fingers found her entrance. With one finger, you slowly slid inside her, only to pull out again just to see her squirm. “Darling, don’t tease me!” She whimpered.

You pulled back for a moment, smirking up at her. “Is this what you need, mama?” You teased, sliding your finger back inside her. Olivia gasped once more, “Fuck yes!”.

The slick sounds of her wetness soon mixed with her moans and curses as you slid the one finger in and out of her with ease. “More, baby! Please!” She begged between moans, throwing her head back harder against the softness of her pillow. God, she looked beautiful like this.

You added a second finger and scissored the two to stretch her, pumping in and out with a little more speed. Her thighs trembled as you lent forward to her clit, your lips latching on to the bud and sucking gently.

“Yes! Just like that, baby!! Don’t stop!!” She moaned. Her walls clenched around your fingers trying to pull you even deeper, you curled them stroking that special spot that really made her moans grow louder. Her back arched off the bed with YOUR name falling from her lips.

One hand found its way back to your hair; she pushed you a little deeper into her as you lapped at her cunt and your fingers pumped in and out of her even faster now. “M’ so close, love!” Olivia whimpered, encouraging you to fuck her a little faster, so you did. You glanced up at her, watching her face as her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth parted while more begging moans escaped her.

The sight of her like this made you clench around nothing as your tongue flattened against her clit, the pressure building as her thighs now closed more on either side of your head.

“YES! YES, YES, YES! THAT’S IT!!” She screamed as she finally came. Her back arching once more, her inner muscles convulsing in powerful spasms, gushing on your fingers as her orgasm tore through her.

You eased her down, slowing your fingers to gentle strokes until she collapsed against the mattress again and slowly, you withdrew your fingers. Olivia watched you through hooded eyes and flustered look as you brought your fingers to your lips, licking them clean as her chest heaved. She couldn’t help but pull up and kiss you, moaning softly at the taste of herself on your lips.

She melted back into the pillows, pulling you on top of her without breaking the kiss, sparking that switch of fire within her. “Mmm, now it’s your turn” she smirked against your soft lips.

Taglist: @noturlondonboy | @deathbylesbianwitches | @red1culous | @torihobby1226 | @filmedbyharkness | @undercuver | @dakotajohnsonsbiggestslut | @angelicbrats | @tobiaslut | @naominanuq | @writerspirit | @jorddddddddd | @tobiaslut | @immadowhateva | @yelldontwhisper | 

You laughed it off when you spilled your coffee this morning. Didn’t think too hard about the cab that splashed muddy water on the hem of your pants or the way you were so distracted you missed your stop on the train. Managed to hold yourself together all through work.

Then your mother called.

You and your mom aren’t really on the best terms right now. Honestly, you’ve been fighting since you turned 14 - it’s just gotten worse since you’ve grown up and moved out. She’s not happy with your degree, your job, and least of all your girlfriend - who’s nearly her age.

The phone call took up your entire trip to the grocery store after work and your entire commute home. Two hours of straight arguing, which is nothing new regarding your mother.

Still, by the time you finally get off the phone, you’re exhausted.

Your mom has a way of getting under your skin; she always has. It doesn’t matter what part of your life she chooses to dig at - you always walk away feeling stupid. Not good enough. Childish. Wrong.

Your mind is a whirlwind as you make dinner. Your mother’s words twist inside of your head until they stop sounding like her and start sounding like you.

I’m selfish.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I’m irresponsible.

I don’t deserve what I have.

Maybe I should just-

“Hey.”

You jump, halfway through trying to save your burning spaghetti, your wide eyes falling on the softly concerned face of your girlfriend. Your brow furrows.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in. What’re you doing home early?”

“Early? It’s after seven.” The way Olivia laughs is good natured, but it snags in your head anyways. Your face burns. Of course it’s after seven. Of course you let time get away from you, and now Olivia has to wait for dinner after she probably had a long day-

“Baby, are you okay?” Her hand settles over yours and you realize you were nearly throttling your pasta spoon. “Did something happen today?”

“No, no.” You offer her a half smile, shrugging off her concerns and stirring your noodles with a little more force than necessary. “I’m fine. I-I’m sorry dinner’s late, I wasn’t paying attention and I guess time got away from me-“

“It’s alright.” You feel her watching you as you mix the sauce in with the noodles. “I have to take a shower anyways, hun. No rush.”

Olivia kisses your cheek before disappearing into your shared bedroom, and you hear the shower start as you finish up dinner. You make Olivia a plate and put the rest in a tupperware container in the fridge. Olivia comes back in when you start on the dishes.

“Did you eat already?” She asks, watching you carefully. You ignore her searching gaze as you scrub the pot.

“I had a big lunch.” You lie.

“What’d you eat?”

“I - it was…just a big lunch.”

You hate it when she does this. Olivia’s very good at being a cop, which bleeds into the way she tries to get into your head when she thinks something’s wrong. She loves to fix things, take care of people, but you really don’t feel like you deserve her effort right now.

A long stretch of silence. You feel…vulnerable and naked under her scrutiny, and it comes out like it usually does when you try to hide it - as irritability.

“Can you - can you stop?” You can’t bring yourself to look at her as you snap, keeping your eyes stubbornly on the dishes. “Stop interrogating me. I’m not fucking hungry, okay?”

You feel guilt clawing up your throat as soon as the words leave your mouth. Olivia doesn’t deserve this. She’s done nothing to deserve your misplaced ire except be loving and understanding and patient with you, on top of her high stress job.

You don’t even realize you’ve started to cry until Olivia is gently tugging your hands out of the dish water.

“Hey, look at me - look. Look at me.” She says your name softly as she dries your hands on the towel in spite of the way you shake your head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s sit down, okay? Here, sit.”

You let her walk you over to the sofa and sink down with you as you start to cry. Your girlfriend doesn’t say anything else. She just tucks you into her chest and holds you, shushing and cooing at you softly, caressing your hair and letting you cry into her chest.

You’re not sure how much time passes but it really doesn’t matter; you let yourself sink into the warmth of Olivia’s hug, the sound of her heartbeat, the faint, lingering smell of her vanilla body wash. Eventually, your sobs quiet into little hiccups and sniffles.

“M’sorry.” You mumble, rubbing at your eyes. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just…a lot happened today.”

“I know, baby.” Olivia guides your head away from her chest and makes you meet her eyes. “And we’ll talk about that. But first, you’re gonna eat some dinner for Mommy, okay?”

Your brain shorts out the second Olivia uses that tone. You know that she knows exactly what she’s doing, but you can’t bring yourself to be upset about it as she leaves you on the couch to heat up your food.

She returns moments later with a small plate of spaghetti. You take it quietly. You really don’t want to eat, but you know Olivia won’t let you get up until you do.

So you eat.

You eat slowly and pick at it, but you eat. And Olivia sits with you and rubs your back the entire time, taking the plate with a quiet ‘good job, honey’ when you finish.

“I’ll finish the dishes.” She gives you a pointed look from the sink. “You go get changed and wait for me in bed.”

“But Liv-“

“Now.”

“Okay, Mommy.” You leave her to the dishes and trudge into the bedroom. The lamp on the nightstand is on, bathing the room in a warm orange glow as you strip down to your panties and throw on a big t-shirt.

The soft sheets welcome you when you clamber in. You tug them all the way up to your nose and snuggle up underneath them - it’s silly, doing this at your grown age, but sometimes pretending the blankets are a shield from the world feels…nice. Safe.

Olivia joins you in the bedroom a few minutes later, holding two glasses of wine. She sets one on your nightstand before walking around to her side of the bed to put hers down.

“So….” She sighs, settling herself in bed next to you when you wordlessly lift the covers for her. “What happened today?”

You hesitate as you press yourself into her side. Your throat is tight like it always is when you try to talk about your feelings.

“…i don’t know.” Your voice is small. Olivia raises a brow as she brushes some hair away from your forehead and you sink a little guiltily into the pillow.

“You don’t know?” She asks, still frustratingly soft and patient. “So you don’t know why you snapped at Mommy earlier, hm?”

“Mm-mm.” You shake your head. Pause. Risk a glance up at Olivia’s face.

“You sure?” Fuck. You can’t keep up the act with the way she’s looking at you.

“….I wasn’t feeling good today.” You finally admit, letting out a shaky sigh.

“Yeah?” She caresses your cheek before dropping her hand to rub your upper arm. “How, baby?”

“My…my head.” You swallow as her hand wanders down to pet your side. “My brain was being mean to me today.”

“My poor baby.” She nuzzles her face close to yours, her voice dropping to something sweet and thick like honey. “And why was your brain being mean, huh?”

“My…mom.”

She starts to pull away, concern evident in the way her body language changes, so you hurry to clarify. “Not you, Mommy. My real mom.”

She relaxes against you again so you continue.

“She called me today. We argued again. Then I started thinking bad.” You finally look up at Olivia, your eyes big and glossy with fresh tears. “I know you told me I shouldn’t be mean to myself, but sometimes I can’t stop it Mommy-“

“Shhhh sh-sh-sh-sh. It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m not mad, it’s okay.” She kisses your cheek. “Just tell me what you were thinking that’s got you all upset.”

You suck in a sharp breath when her hand creeps into your panties, her lithe fingers trailing past your mound until they’re ghosting your clit.

“I….uh…” Suddenly, the thoughts you were plagued with all day don’t seem so important. You’d much rather focus solely on the way Olivia’s circling your clit. “Um…uh…”

“Big girl words, sweetie.” You whine when she halts her motions. “Don’t whine - use your words.”

“I feel silly.” You pout, squirming in place. You feel her gentle smile more than see it.

“You’re not silly.” She presses on your clit again just to hear your breath hitch, resuming her gentle circles. “Talk to me, baby. Tell Mom what’s wrong.”

“I-I don’t deserve this.” You finally choke out, a moan slipping out when Olivia rewards you by working two fingers inside of your cunt. “I don’t deserve you, I’m selfish for wanting this, for wanting you, for needing things from you, and-“

You’re cut off by the way she curls her fingers and starts to plunge them in and out of you just slow enough to keep you wanting.

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” Olivia sits up on one elbow, now leaning over you. She moves her fingers with a little more force. You moan. “I don’t need my baby girl thinking like that about herself.”

“But…but Mom-“

“No no, I’m talking now.” She presses a kiss to your trembling lips. “You just listen, okay? Listen to me and let Mommy make you feel better.”

It’s like she flips a switch in your brain with her words, and in two seconds you’re a whimpering, sniffling mess. Your hips start to jerk up in little movements to match the pace of her fingers.

“You’re not selfish for having wants and needs.” She murmurs softly, her lips brushing your forehead. “And I’m sorry your mother made you feel that way, baby. Good thing you have me now, right?”

Her thumb begins to rub circles on your clit as she works her fingers in and out of you. Your eyes flutter.

“Mommy-“

“Oh I know, sweetheart. I know. My poor, poor baby.” Olivia sighs. “You just need some reassurance, that’s all. And a little attention.”

You don’t answer. You can’t, actually, but Olivia doesn’t seem to mind. She’s happy to do all the talking while she finger fucks every bad thought from your head.

“You deserve everything you have. Hell, I think you deserve more. Everything you want.” The sounds coming from your cunt are obscene. You clench around her fingers and she smiles.

“And you’re so pretty.” She coos. “My pretty, sweet girl. You gotta stop getting so caught up in your head, yeah?”

“Mom-“

“You close, baby?”

You’re so close you swear your vision is swimming. “Yeah.”

“Go ahead and cum on Mommy’s fingers, baby. You deserve it.”

You cum on command, your body squeezing down and soaking Olivia’s hand. She showers you in kisses and praise as you come down.

“Good girl, sweetheart. Good girl.” Your head is empty. You can barely even remember what you were upset about through the buzzy haze of bliss. “You’re safe with me, baby. Always.”

She pulls her fingers out of you carefully, fixing your panties and sucking them clean. She grins when you finally offer her a small, genuine smile.

“Now…what do you say we finish our wine?”

“I’ll see you later!” Fin laughed, waving over his shoulder as he finally left for the night. But, before you could do the same, you were being beckoned to the Captain's office, Olivia’s brooding expression drawing you in from the doorway where ambient light spilled over her leather shoes. Fin shook his head at the door, hearing the very beginning of Olivia’s command, and knowing what it would entail for you. Or at least, some of it.

“Detective!” Benson’s voice boomed, sudden and unexpected in the relatively quiet precinct. Rollins and Carisi had already gone home, the latter coming by to pick up the former because apparently they had dinner reservations uptown. Fin just left, taking a single donut from the break room with him — even though it had become stale yesterday afternoon, and was beyond the point of redeeming itself even with its rainbow sprinkles — and Kat, well, you just hadn’t seen her in a while. So, that left only you around to hear Olivia’s instruction. “My office.” She gave a pointed click of the tongue, but you would’ve complied anyways. It had been a long handful of hours since the last time you’d been able to get your hands on her.

You kicked your desk chair back into place, not worried about the cluttered highlighters on your desk, all of their caps switched to the wrong colors, a lovely gift from Fin who’d apparently never learned to appropriately channel his boredom during Benson’s lectures. You, on the other hand, had been blind to it happening at all, too caught up in a fantasy of her taking you over the desk. Again. Amanda had known what you were thinking of, you’d been her friend before you’d been the Captains girlfriend, and she’d batted your thigh in disgust — though she’s definitely going to be texting you later, asking if anything came from your hormonal fantasy.

Olivia stepped back into the room when she was sure that you were coming, following her directions the way she knew (and expected) you could. You closed the door behind you when you stepped inside, and before the latch could fully click against metal, her body backed you up until cold pine sent shivers down your spine.

Your palms splayed across the sleek wood, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth as you stared up into her hazy chocolate eyes. You could trace endless constellations in her gaze when the sun hits her pupils the right way, but what you’ve really come to love is how lust creates a whirlpool until all that remains is black pupils outlined by enchanting golden rings. Her hand inches up, and you think she might touch your face, might pull you in for a kiss — the first kiss you’ll share since six o’clock that morning — but instead she closes the blinds and lets her exhale ghost across your jawline.

“Kiss me.” You pleaded breathlessly, already craving her touch on your body that had taken a hit in pursuit. You’d been out of the precinct for nearly two hours, holed up at Mercy getting assessed before 1PP called you in and tried to scramble your brain until you admitted trauma — when nothing came from the forty minute interrogation framed as a therapy session, they begrudgingly released you back to Olivia who had been swept away by a hit you’ d been desperately chasing. To say you needed a remedy for the emotional toll of your day couldn’t compare to the weight of what you needed. The first thing on that list was admittedly to get Olivia in bed though. Her office just couldn't hold a scene the way you needed it to.

“Is that how you ask for something?” Olivia seethed, her teeth grinding together as her jaw became a firm line of structure. You swallowed thickly, arousal disturbing the delicate tendons in your thighs. The small quiver in your knees, you hope is unnoticeable, but Olivia smirks, her eyes jutting down to see your thighs squeezing together now, no longer just twitching for contact and pleasure. You thought you might’ve gotten away with your lust-drunk plea, but then a hand tangled into your hair and yanked your head back until you could see the tiles on your ceilings. That sight was covered by your eyelids, a heavy sigh sinking off of your lips.

“Kiss me, please, Liv.” You pleaded, your head still tilted upward, her tight grip not allowing any sort of tension to loosen. The strain in your neck and sting against your scalp was pleasant, familiar; far better than being slammed into the concrete by a six foot jackass with a warrant. “Baby, please, I need you to kiss me.” You arched your head, forcing her grip to give, to let you move until you could inch your lips just the slightest bit closer, and Olivia almost let you get away with it, but just before your lips could touch hers, she tightened her fist and slammed you back against the door, her chest now keeping you flush between herself and the door. No escape.

“Where are we?” She inquires, her gaze piercing, unforgiving as it unravels you, pulls you apart until you’re just clumps of nerves beneath her electrified touch.

“Your office.” The words are thick, heavy, breathy, and they fan across Olivia’s chin as you drop your gaze to her breasts, the tanned skin peeking out from the unbuttoned top she’d picked out from the closet that morning.

“My office. Good girl.” Olivia praised, leaning in close so that she could crane her face into your neck, biting down sweetly onto your shoulder before she soothed the indentations of her teeth with her hot tongue. Her warmth was welcomed, a deterrent to the cold that claims your fingertips. “And what’s my name when we’re in my office, hm? I know it’s in there. In that pretty head. I haven’t broken you yet, sweetheart.” She teases, her mouth moving up your neck, open kisses dampening your skin until you’re not sure what's damper, the trail she’s paved toward your earlobe that she claims between her teeth, or your thighs that tremble and quiver, unable to pinch together tight enough to give you any kind of release.

“Captain.” You sigh, moaning gently when she tugs your earlobe, her tongue swirling around the diamond studs she’d gifted you for your second anniversary.

“Mhm, and a Captain has to make sure her detectives are capable of doing this job.” Olivia mused, trailing her lips against your cheek until the edge of her smirk touched your pout.

“I was already cleared.” You tried to excuse, but then her lips captured yours, and it didn’t matter that you’d already signed endless paperwork, been fondled by exploring hands, and had your blood drawn unnecessarily.

Another gasp crawled up your throat when her knee pressed between your legs, the warmth of your core spreading against her thigh. It only took a moment for your hips to seek friction, rotating back and forth with the structure of the door as leverage to keep you both upright. Olivia’s hands framed your face on either side of the door before she caught your jaw in a bruising grip, the fingers of her left hand making a tantalizing trail to the waistband of your slacks.

“Oh, but sweetheart, they might’ve missed something. Just let me check, yeah?” She breaths against your lips, and you can only agree when her hand finds your core between her pants and yours, her thumb seeking to fiddle with the pulsating nerve beneath her touch. “Gonna let me check, baby? Need words from you.”

“Yes.” You sighed, your head throwing itself back onto the door when her fingers undid the sterling silver button and snaked inside of your panties, stopping right before your clit. Her forefinger and middle circled your pleading bud cruelly, only securing whatever dampness was within reach and not exploring your clenching hole that yearns for her fingers, or her strap, or her tongue.

“Yes, what?” Olivia huffed, yanking your hair again until your eyes met her, wide and glassy as you tried to move your hips into the palm of her hand. Olivia tsk’d at that, the hand in your hair disappearing to instead slap your clothed thigh.

”Yes, you can check, Captain. Please.” You cried out, tears of desperation leaking from your eyes. It was so easy. You were so easy.

“You’re so pretty like this. Begging your Captain to check you, to make sure you’re alright. So easy for me, sweetheart. I barely have to put up a fight.” She teased, her tone condescending and light, concealed with gentleness that had you gasping when her fingers began to explore your folds, sweeping through the collection of wetness until she found the spot the caused it all. “Oh, what’s this. My pretty little pussy is absolutely dripping. Does this hurt, sweetheart?” Olivia knew what she was doing as she eased a single finger into your cunt up to the second knuckle.

You gasped breathily, your back arching off the door and as far into her chest as it was able.

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer.” Olivia snapped her wrist, and suddenly that finger was probing the sweet spot inside of you that made you see stars. Another finger was added, two thick digits stretching you out, the metal of her rings so aggravatingly hitting the sensitive skin beside your clit but never direct contact.

“N-No.” You whimpered, tears still leaking down your face, glittering rivers of pent up emotion visible in your single glance. “Please.”

Olivia only hummed, ignoring your pleading, your begging, the squelch of your juices as she scissored your cunt, fingering your hole open until her palm was slick with arousal. Her touches were incessant, practiced and experienced, but it brought you no closer to the peak of pleasure you so desperately wanted to find.

Instead, she pulled her fingers out, trailing her touch along your lips again. You whined, unable to help herself, and Olivia shut you up with a blinding kiss, her teeth digging into your lip until you yelped pathetically. “Be quiet.” She instructed, her fingers slipping through your folds, so close, so close, oh god. “Oh, does that hurt? That was a pretty sound, darling. You only make that sound when something hurts. Come on, be honest with your Captain.”

“Please.” You broke, your eyes glimmering with pearly iridescent tears and your lips trembling.

“Please, what? Come on, I know you can tell me.” She encouraged, her fingers still working your clit, still teasing your senses.

“Please, it hurts! It hurts, please fix it. Captain, please, I need you.” You sobbed, chasing Olivia’s lips, but she pulled away from you entirely, her hand leaving your pants, your face, your hair. That heavy pressure was replaced with fingers pressing against your lips, an order already at the forefront of her tongue.

“Clean me up.” You didn’t need to be told twice, eagerly accepting her fingers into your mouth, the weight of her digits familiar and comforting even with the throb between your legs. “Good girl.” She praised, pulling her fingers from your lips only when your dutiful licking and suckling became impatient nipping, trying to lure her back in. “Pack up your desk. We’re going home.” She informed, kissing you sweetly as her fingers buttoned your pants, her fingers trailing over your cunt just to smile teasingly as your hips jolted.

Strong hands spun you. You lent back against soft curves, one hand curling over hers, the other curling around the back of her neck. Soft lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“11 o’clock,” she murmured quiet enough to not be heard by anyone not pressed against her.

When this case had been brought in, you’d felt yourself go cold. A swath of lesbian couples being targeted by a serial rapist, each one brutalised. Going undercover had been a last ditch effort on your part, desperate to find the sicko who was doing this.

The obvious two to act as bait were you and Olivia. You’d wanted to fight against it, to rail against the entire thought of it. Pretending to be her girlfriend would be intolerable. But you couldn’t unless you wanted to lose face.

You’d been fighting off your crush on Olivia since almost the moment you’d met her. Dark eyes and pretty smile, she was everything dreams were made of. And she was completely uninterested in you.

So this case was going to ruin you.

“Naughty girl,” you said, loud enough that those around you could hear.

Your head rested against her shoulder, ass grinding against her hips, moving in time with the music. Your fingers threaded through hers, holding it against your body as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of her neck. Her other hand trailed up the skin of your leg, toying with the hem of your short skirt.

You turned your gaze towards where she’d indicated, lazy, as if you were uninterested in anyone else in the club. A man was sitting at one of the few tables, fingers tapping on the table to the beat of the music. But his eyes were watching the two of you.

Turning your face back to hers, your nose brushed against hers. Her breath ghosted over your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. The throbbing between your legs was in time with the music and you lent against her, letting her hold you up.

“Time for a drink?” she asked.

You nodded. Her fingers slipped from the skin of your thigh, taking your hand. Tugging, you let her lead you off the dance floor, passing by the table of your voyeur. She lent over the bar, shouting your order to the bartender as your eyes slid over her body, focusing on the curve of her ass. For your undercover identity. Not because it was looking particularly good in the pair of jeans she was wearing.

Your mouth was only dry because you needed a drink from dancing.

She turned, leaning back against the bar. Her fingers brushed yours as she passed you the drink, a virgin cocktail given you were on the clock. Her arm curled around your waist, holding you close, casual, taking a sip from her own glass.

“Incoming,” she murmured.

You curled your free arm around her neck, leaning in closer. Her chuckle was warm in your ear. Your tongue ran along the sugar rim on your glass, breathless as she watched.

“You’re quite lucky.”

Both of you turned to look at the man who had sidled up beside you at the bar.

“Me or her?” Olivia asked.

“Both, I suppose,” he said, “although I was aiming it at you. I think you’ve captured the attention of the most gorgeous girl in here.”

“I certainly think so,” she said, her eyes sliding over your face again, lips curling up in a knowing smirk, “but then, after three years together I’m hardly going to think otherwise.”

His eyes lit up. Bingo. This was definitely your guy.

“I’m surprised you can keep your hands off her,” he said.

“Who says I can?” She turned back to look at him, “we’re just not interested in giving everyone a show.”

“You ever give anyone a show?”

Her eyes scanned him. You giggled, pressing closer to her. Her own lips curled into a knowing smile.

“What do you think, baby?” she asked, “wanna show him what a woman really enjoying herself looks like?”

“Uh huh,” you said, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, looking back to the man. His gaze darkened as he stared at you. You did your best to keep your disgust hidden from sight. His greedy gaze was like slime on your skin, nothing like when Olivia looked at you.

“Come on then,” she said to him, her hand landing on your ass, watching his eyes focus on it, “whatever my baby wants, my baby gets.”

He followed you out of the club, the thumping bass easing as you got onto the street. Your hand in Olivia’s was beginning to grow sweaty, your night only just beginning In the back of a cab, pressed between the two, Olivia buried her face in the crook of your neck, her hand on your thigh.

“Just like we talked about,” she murmured, quiet enough that only you could hear under the guise of foreplay, “you’re doing great.”

Hot breath played over the other side of your neck. Your head tilted back and soft lips made contact with your skin, Olivia continuing the cover. The small noise you made wasn’t calculated, unbidden from the feeling of her lips on you. The excited panting of the man beside you let you know he was watching closely.

The taxi came to an abrupt stop. Olivia helped you out of the car, the man hot on your heels. In the elevator up to the apartment that had been set up for you, Olivia wrapped her arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as she looked at the man.

“Just so we’re clear. You don’t touch her. You don’t touch me. But you get to watch and then you leave,” she said.

“That’s all I want,” he replied.

But the way he was looking at you says he wanted much more than that.

You fumbled with the keys, head hazy with Olivia’s hands on your body. With her soft curves brushing against yours, body heat and scent invading your senses, it was a miracle you could get the door open.

Her hands on your hips guided you towards the bedroom, face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin. Your heart skipped a beat, thundering, easy to explain away as adrenaline due to the case rather than because you were weak kneed at the feeling of her. Your own body was betraying you.

She spun you, one hand cradling the base of your head, the other sliding to the small of your back.

“You ready for me, baby?” she asked, eyes smouldering as they looked at you.

“Please,” you whimpered, not sure if you were begging her to touch you or to end this.

“I’ve never been able to deny you anything,” she said, sounding softer than you were expecting, fingers massaging your scalp, “let’s play.”

She pushed the door open and a couple of bodies pushed past you. In your heels you were unsteady, using her body to keep you upright. Her hold on you was strong, steadying you the way she always did. You drew away.

Turning, you watched the man be put in cuffs. His shouts were hardly what you wanted to listen to. You crossed your arms, watching him, ignoring the way desire still licked like flames through your veins. In your peripheral vision, Olivia watched on too.

Later, once he’d been booked and a DNA swab sent off to the lab, you were back home, showering the evening off you. You weren’t sure you could scrub hard enough to forget the feeling of Olivia’s fingers on the skin of your inner thigh, flirting with the hem of your skirt, promising more than she would ever deliver on.

You groaned, fingers finding you still slick from the throbbing arousal she’d lit in you. Shaking your head, you flipped the faucet to cold, doing your best to calm the fire raging through you. Crossing that line right now would not help.

A knocking on your front door startled you. It was late, you weren’t expecting anyone, and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and try to forget how it felt to be Olivia’s for a night. You shut the water off. The knocking came again.

You grumbled as you dried off, shoving clothes onto your body. Old gym shorts and an oversized shirt, your typical uniform for bed. Looking through the peephole, you froze.

Olivia’s fist pounded against your door.

You were slow to open it to her, not sure what was about to happen. If she was about to lay into you for how tonight went. If she’d seen through you. If you’d made her uncomfortable. Your heart seized.

“Hey,” she said, eyes sweeping over your body the way they always did, as if assessing you, her training in full effect. Still, it didn’t stop you from shivering under her gaze.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Can I come in?”

You held the door open for her, almost groaning when she brushed past you. Shutting the door, you turned to find her assessing your place. A pokey little apartment, filled to the brim with things you’d collected over the years. It was hardly fancy but you liked it well enough. It was home, which was all you needed.

“You gonna explain yourself?” you asked when the silence had stretched so long it was making you antsy.

She turned away from your overstuffed bookcase, a paperback dangling from her fingers.

“You did well today,” she said.

“Thanks,” you said, more confused than ever, “but no offence, you could have told me that tomorrow.”

“Sorry, were you asleep?” she asked, but you knew she knew the answer to that.

“No,” you replied, “but that’s where I was headed.”

“You didn’t stay to see his interview,” she said.

“Cap told me to go home. That there was nothing more I could do tonight and he wanted me well rested for tomorrow,” you said with a shrug, “you had it handled.”

“He asked for you,” she said.

“The Captain?” Your brow furrowed.

“The perp,” she replied.

“Oh.”

You weren’t sure what to make of that.

“Said he had unfinished business with you and since clearly I wasn’t satisfying you he’d be more than happy to help you out,” she said.

“Ew.” Your nose wrinkled in disgust, “glad I wasn’t there to hear that.”

“That was the tame version,” she said.

“Did he at least confess?”

That was the only thing that mattered.

“He did,” she confirmed, “after telling us that he planned to rape you while I watched. That you’d enjoy it.”

“And now you’re here. Want me to come back in?” you asked.

“God no,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“So why are you here then?” You felt it was a reasonable question.

She sunk down onto your couch, resting her elbows on her thighs. Her hands pressed together, staring at them, her brow furrowed. You were careful as you settled beside her, giving her distance, not sure you could handle the feel of her warmth again.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she eventually said.

“Home? To sleep?” you suggested.

Her scoff came with a disbelieving smile. You shook your head, your own smile curling up the corners of your lips. Your shoulder bumped hers, forgetting for a moment that just the feel of her sent your heart crazy.

“Why are you here?” you asked again, keeping you voice gentle.

“You should have heard what he was saying about you. I just…” Her fist clenched.

You reached over, your hands gently prying her fingers way, smoothing out her hand, letting it relax. You held it, peering up into her face.

“You got angry,” you said.

“I’m so good at listening to perps say shit about me. It doesn’t even phase me. But when it comes to you I crumble,” she said, eyes searching yours as if she could find answers there.

“He got to you,” you said, “it happens. It’s what he was trying to do.”

“But I let him. I shouldn’t have let him,” she said.

She turned towards you.

“How did he know to focus on you?” she asked, voice a whisper.

“You responded the first time so he kept prodding.” You shrugged, “it’s not your fault.”

“He knew.”

The hand that was still held in yours flipped, grasping onto yours almost too tightly. Her knee brushed against your thigh as she shifted closer. Your lips parted, teeth sinking into your lower lip. You watched as her gaze flicked down to it, darkening, before finding yours again.

“He knew,” she whispered.

“Knew what?” Your voice was just as quiet as hers.

“That I wasn’t pretending.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. The way she was looking at you was only making you feel like you’d stepped into someone else’s story.

“Liv,” you breathed, “what are you saying?”

Her palm was warm as it cupped you cheek. The sound that came from between your parted lips was pathetic, almost a whine, but soft and desperate. Her thumb ran along your cheekbone.

“I’m saying that tonight it was easy to slip into our cover because I was already there. It’s easy to pretend to be into someone when you actually are,” she said.

“You’re into me?” you asked.

“I think at this point you must be the last person to know,” she said, lips curling up into a small smile.

“I guess I am,” you said.

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable…” She began to draw away.

“No!”

Your hand landed on her shoulder, fingers digging in. She froze before she relaxed under your touch.

“Do you know what I’ve been doing tonight? What I’ve been doing since I got home?” you asked her.

She shook her head.

“I’ve been thinking about you. About what it felt like to have your hands on my body. About your lips on my skin. About how I wanted more,” you said.

“You wanted more? From me?” she asked.

“I know I should have been focused on the case, but it was so hard when you were driving me crazy,” you said.

“I was driving you crazy?” She laughed, “baby, you have no idea what you do to me.”

“Then show me.”

Her eyes swept over you again, dark and smouldering and so full of hope. The hand on her shoulder slid up to curl around the back of her neck and then you were pulling her in. The first brush of lips was soft, a question more than a kiss. She sighed into your mouth and then she was pressing closer.

The hand on your cheek pulled you closer until you were climbing into her lap. Knees either side of her hips, your fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head back as you kissed her deeper. Her hands were back on your hips, the home you wanted them to have, gripping tight over the prints already burnt into your skin.

You moaned, hips shifting, tasting her. She was everywhere, hands sliding up your back, finding their way under your shirt. The feel of her skin against yours was driving you crazy, head spinning. She hummed, muffled in your mouth.

“Liv,” you murmured.

Her mouth returned to the place on your throat, the same place burnt by desire earlier in the night. Your head fell back, giving her more access. Her tongue flicked out, tasting your skin. You whined, her name another moan, fire licking through your veins. The throbbing was back between your legs, more insistent than ever.

“I wanted to kick his teeth in listening to him talk about you,” she whispered into your skin, fingers digging in to the skin on your back, nails biting.

“Soon enough he’ll be locked up and he won’t be able to get near anyone ever again,” you said, fingers tightening in her hair.

“He won’t be able to get near you,” she all but growled, looking up at you with dark eyes.

“Liv,” you sighed as she kissed your skin again, “it’s kinda hot when you get all protective.”

“You’re getting off on this,” she said, looking up at you again.

“Only because it’s you,” you said, lips quirking up into a small smirk.

“It’s not just about tonight, is it?” she asked.

“I’ve wanted you for so long I don’t even remember what it’s like to not want you,” you replied, “although tonight… tonight has been a specific form of torture.”

“Being undercover with me is torture?” she asked, hands sliding further up the bare skin of your back.

“Having you touch me when I thought you didn’t want me? That it was all an act? That to you it was all a job and I was the idiot getting turned on?” Your forehead fell against hers, “that was torture.”

“This feel like an act to you?” she asked, nails dragging back down your skin.

“I could do with some more convincing,” you murmured.

“Whatever my baby wants, my baby gets.”

She chuckled as she kissed you again, hands warm on your skin. Your fingers were still tangled in her hair, able to tug until her chuckle turned into a groan. Your teeth sunk into her lower lip, tugging on it as you drew back. Her eyes were blown wide, kiss stung lips parted, breathing ragged.

“Promise this is for real? That you actually want this? That you want me?” you asked, needing to hear it from her lips.

“I want you. I want this. I want us,” she said, her voice soft, as if she knew how important her words were to you.

You pushed her hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on her jaw. Leaning forward, your lips followed the line your fingers had traced. She sighed as her head tilted back, falling back against the cushions of your couch. Her hands slid back down, grasping your ass, hauling you closer. Your teeth scraped against her skin and the shaky moan was music to your ears.

You wanted to litter her body with your marks to find later. You wanted everyone to know you’d been there. You wanted her to remember this moment when she looked in the mirror the next day.

You yelped when she stood, your legs wrapping around her waist. She carried you, so strong, lips capturing yours again. Dropping you onto your mattress, unmade bed, she grinned down at you.

“That perv was right about one thing,” she murmured, eyes sweeping over your splayed form.

“He was?” you asked, curious what she was thinking, even as heat ran over your skin.

“I won’t be able to keep my hands off you now.”

Her hands ran up your legs, parting your thighs as she crawled between them. Smouldering eyes looked up your body, holding your gaze as her lips pressed to your inner thigh. Her name was a strangled moan on your lips. Her smirk was pleased, almost arrogant.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured.

Her hands slid up your body, pushing your shirt up, exposing your stomach to the cool air of your apartment. Her hips slotted between your thighs, leaning forward as her lips trailed up your skin. Her hands kept shoving the shirt higher until you grabbed it, tearing it off your body.

Her lips brushed along the underside of one breast. You whimpered when her lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue flicking over it. Arching up into her mouth, your fingers wound through her hair again, pressing her closer, holding her there as pleasure spread through your veins.

One hand was gently running along the waistband of your shorts, a teasing touch that only drove you crazy. Your hips shifted, pressing up, trying to find some friction from her but was left frustratingly disappointed. She hummed, the vibrations going through you, only setting the throbbing between your legs off harder.

It was maddening.

“Liv,” you begged, “Liv, please.”

“You make my name sound so pretty, baby,” she murmured, lips brushing your skin.

“Please,” you tried again.

“Let me just stay here a little longer. I’m not done yet.”

Her mouth moved to the other breast. Your hand slipped from her hair, pushing the jacket from her shoulders. She let you, flinging it aside as her mouth sucked. You whimpered, arching further into her mouth, hands seeking out her bare skin.

Her fingers hooked in the waistband of your shorts, snapping it back against your skin. You made such a desperate noise, one you hadn’t realised you were capable of. You felt her smile against your skin, tongue flicking over one nipple. You were about to combust.

Soft lips pressed to your skin, trailing down your stomach. She paused at the waistband of your shorts, sitting back to drag her eyes down your body. Your chest heaved, hands reaching to her. Arms crossed over the front of her body, she pulled her shirt over her head, shaking her hair back from her face. Your fingertips dragged down her sides, feeling her warmth, each inhale expanding beneath your fingers.

You couldn’t believe you were being offered the chance to see her like this.

With swift movements, she pulled her bra from her body. Your mouth grew dry from the sight of her, so beautiful, so perfect, and all for you. Your fingers brushed one breast before she was bending forward again, fingers hooking back into your shorts, tugging them down. You kicked them off, desperate for her.

“How did I go this long without this?” she murmured, lips ghosting along your hip bone.

Strong hands curled around your thighs, parting them to settle between them. You pushed up onto your elbows, staring down at you. Catching your eye she grinned before her lips pressed in a soft kiss to your inner thigh. You trembled.

“This all for me?” she asked, breath ghosting over your folds.

“Only for you,” you breathed.

Her tongue swept through your folds. You fell back on the mattress, fingers winding through her hair as your hips raised to meet her mouth. She hummed, the vibrations rocketing through you. Lifting one thigh over her shoulder, she pressed closer, gently suckling on your clit. Her name was sweet on your lips as you whimpered above her.

Her tongue was soft, exploring you with a patience you didn’t have. You wanted more, immediately, having spent enough time imagining this moment. You didn’t need more teasing, still dealing with the leftover arousal from your night in the club with her. That had been more than enough for you to be ready for her.

“Liv, please,” you begged, fingers tightening in her hair.

Dark eyes gazed up your body, smouldering as her tongue dipped into your entrance. You were breathless, caught in her gaze, unable to look away as she ignited a fire in your veins. Returning her attention to your clit, all you could do was moan her name.

Your hips bucked against her, trying to urge her for more. Ignoring it, she was still gentle, soft, coaxing you higher without giving you enough to tip over the edge. She took her time, watching you with every stroke of her tongue. Your mewls did nothing to convince her to do more, leaving you desperate.

She was such a tease.

She played with you until you were dripping. You were desperate, writhing on the bed, holding her against you. Her tongue dipped into you again before she drew back. You cried out, trying to pull her back against you.

“You make such pretty noises,” she murmured, finger ghosting over your clit as she watched you with darkened eyes.

“Please,” you begged.

She lent forward, kissing you until you were breathless. Her finger was slow to enter you, your moans muffled against her mouth. Her mouth trailed down your neck, lips closing around your earlobe. The noise you made only seemed to egg her on, a second finger joining the first.

Her thumb was slow to circle your clit as her fingers curled within you. Her soft words were coaxing you as her fingers drove you crazy. Your nails dragged down the skin of her back, hips meeting her thrust for thrust.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby,” she told you, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you feel so good around my fingers.”

Your fingers wound into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging on it, insistent, desperate. Your hips were writhing against her. Her thumb was coaxing you higher, her breath ghosting over your skin as her hand worked between your legs.

“You drive me crazy,” she murmured, “I could spend hours doing this with you.”

“Liv,” you whimpered.

“You’re so good for me. So beautiful. So lovely.”

Your head went hazy, the pressure building. You were beyond desperate for her. Clutching at her, your thighs hooked over her hips, you gave yourself over to the feeling of her hand. She kept murmuring in your ear, coaxing you through it, only making you needy for more.

When the wave broke, when it crashed into you, you cried out her name, nails digging in, fingers tightening. You clamped down on her fingers, pulse after pulse of pleasure going through your body. Her words were so soft as she eased you through it.

“That’s it. You did so well for me. You were such a good girl,” she said as you began to relax into the mattress.

The fingers that had tangled in her hair guided her back towards you, kissing her until she sighed into your mouth. Her hand slipped from between your legs. When she drew back, her tongue ran up her fingers before she sucked them into her mouth, cleaning herself. Warmth bloomed in you again.

“You’re incredible,” you sighed, watching her, needing her to know.

She chuckled, leaning forward to kiss you again, the taste of you still on her tongue. You wound your arms around her neck, legs still over her hips, wanting to feel her everywhere. Rolling, you straddled her, kissing her deeper, not able to stop yourself. You weren’t sure you would ever get enough of her.

Her hands stroked along your bare skin, from the top of your spine, all the way to the base. It was so soft, so gentle, nothing like the forceful cop out in the streets looking for justice. You whimpered, pressing closer.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered against your lips.

“And all yours,” you said, “if you’ll have me.”

She gently tucked your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on your jaw. You stared down at her, waiting for her answer with bated breath.

“Of course I’ll have you for as long as you let me,” she said.

“Forever,” you sighed, “you can have me forever.”

You squint at the computer in front of you, trying to get the words on the screen to not blur as much. Why do legal briefs have to be in such small print? You swear these things are barely legible. 

The truth is that the swimming words probably have more to do with your headache that seems determined to escalate to a migraine sometime soon than the font size. And the fact that you keep having to turn away from the computer to cough what seems like every five seconds. But that’s neither here nor there – you still think they should make the print bigger. 

You sigh, minimizing the PDF on your screen and propping your head up on one hand. You rub your temples tiredly. Maybe if you just close your eyes for one minute, you just might… 

“Looks like you need this coffee more than I do.” 

You snap your eyes open, feeling your cheeks heat up. Olivia Benson is leaning against the doorframe to your office, watching you with a slightly amused, slightly concerned look on her face. 

“Please tell me one of those is for me,” you sigh, eyes falling to the two coffee cups in her hands. 

“Of course,” Olivia smiles, coming into your office and sitting down in the chair across from you. She hands over the coffee. “Can’t have our best assistant DA falling asleep midday, can we?” 

“You’re an angel,” you say, taking a long sip of the hot liquid. It feels amazing on your irritated throat, and you can only hope the caffeine might improve the pounding in your head. 

“I’ll take it,” Olivia chuckles, leaning back in the chair and taking a sip from her own cup. “That’s a lot better than the string of profanities that usually get hurled my way.”

You grimace in sympathy. “Long day?” 

“Ah, the usual. Some good, some bad,” Olivia says diplomatically, shrugging a shoulder. “But trying to focus on the good.” 

“And that’s what makes you a great captain.” You give her a reassuring smile, downing some more coffee. But then your throat tickles, and you’re forced to swivel around in your chair to smother a coughing fit in your elbow. 

It takes longer than you’d like for the coughing to calm down, and you wipe a few irritated tears off your cheeks when you turn back around. “Sorry, um –” you clear your throat. “Excuse me.” 

Olivia’s dark eyes are full of concern when you finally look at her again. “Are you alright?” she asks softly, studying you. “That doesn’t sound too good.” 

“It’s nothing,” you wave a hand, trying to sound healthier than you feel. “Wrong pipe.” 

Olivia tilts her head, giving you a knowing look. She reaches out, giving you a second to pull away if you want. When you don’t, she puts the back of her hand to your forehead, then sighs. 

“That’s what I thought. I have a twelve-year-old, I know a fever when I see one.” She raises her eyebrows at you. 

Your face feels hot, and you pull away, hiding it behind another sip of coffee. “It’s no biggie,” you repeat, although it sounds unconvincing, even to yourself. 

“Sweetheart,” Olivia says, her voice low and soft now. It makes your heart flutter. “You should go home and rest. You’re sick and running a temp.” 

You honestly didn’t expect Olivia to care this much. Sure, you’re friends, but she’s never looked at you like this before. 

“I will,” you say, swallowing down another cough. “I just have a few more things to get through, then I’ll head out.” 

“You’re no good to anyone here if you run yourself into the ground,” Olivia presses, her eyes still fixed on yours. “Trust me, I’ve done it myself.” 

You laugh softly. “Yeah, I’ve seen you do it.” 

“Exactly,” Olivia says, lips curled in a lopsided smirk. “And you’ve pulled me back when I needed it. Reminded me to sleep, and eat, and to go see my kid. So this is me pulling, honey. You need to go home.” 

You’ve seen this softer side of Olivia before. It’s reminiscent of the way she is with victims, all quiet words of reassurance, comforting touches. But somehow it’s hitting you even harder right now, all that care directed at you. 

But you remind yourself not to read too much into it. You’re friends, that’s all. Even if you secretly wish it could be more. 

Your nose itches and you hastily grab a tissue to sneeze into, sighing afterward. Olivia is right. You’re not getting anything done anyway. 

“Maybe I can work the rest of the day from home,” you admit begrudgingly, glancing up at her. “I don’t want to get anyone else sick, anyway.” 

“Good,” Olivia smiles at you, and the brightness of it makes your chest do funny things again. 

You and Olivia stand up. But the moment you’re on your feet, it feels like all the blood rushes from your head and you wobble, seeing stars. 

Olivia lunges for you immediately, wrapping a firm arm around you and steadying you. 

“Woah, careful,” she says, frowning at you. She doesn’t let go of you. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, just dizzy for a second,” you mumble, although you don’t make an effort to move out of her grasp. 

“Let me take you home, sweetheart,” Olivia murmurs, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. There’s a deep furrow in her eyebrows. “You shouldn’t be driving with this fever.” 

“I think I’ll be okay –” you start to protest, but she shakes her head firmly. While keeping her arm around you, she picks up your purse and jacket for you and tucks them under her other arm. 

“Nuh-uh. I’m pulling rank,” Olivia says, already guiding you toward the door. “I’m driving you home.” 

You feel too safe in her arms to protest any further. 

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