I tap my fingers against my wooden desk, the soft echo filling the room as I repeat my actions, a pencil in the other hand tapping against my lower lip. There was something about this case that just seemed off but it wasn't my job to question the detectives' work. They were, after all, exceptionally competent although we did butt heads quite a few times. Once Elliot learned that I didn't want to mark his territory as my own, he let me be, content with the explanation that I was using his hard work to reach a broader constituency.
But Olivia was a different story. There are still some days when she picks a fight with me and we yell at each other, both too stubborn to step down and admit our faults. She challenges me, even years later. Usually people fall into a pattern and suddenly start hating their job and I'm not saying I love my job, sometimes I still think about trying to move up, but I just can't seem to bring myself to leave SVU, to leave Olivia.
She is a hell of a detective, has been ever since I arrived. I took advantage of that, requesting more and more evidence from her until she was pretty much the reason I was winning my cases but we both feel relieved when that guilty verdict is read and I guess that's all that matters.
I turn my attention back to the case file in front of me, desperately trying to read the report of a woman's torture but not quite wanting to. Sometimes I wish I could skip this part of the job but it was necessary. Painful, but necessary.
"You're still here?" I jump when the voice floods my office, looking up to see those warm brown eyes that I was just thinking about. Olivia. She's leaning up against my doorframe, her ankles crossed much like her arms as if she was just standing there for hours, evaluating me. I wonder how long she has really been standing there, a faint blush covering my cheeks as if she knew I was thinking about her just a few minutes prior.
"It's only," I pause as I look at my watch before grimacing, "nine. I can still get in a couple more hours of work," I tease, watching her chuckle and smile in response. It was worth it. Anything was worth getting a smile out of her, especially these days. Elliot had left her a heart broken mess but she refused to tell me anything more personal on the rare occasions that we met up outside of the office. Her new partner was good, good but certainly not Elliot nor would he ever be. No one could fill the gaping hole that Elliot had left behind when he left, not even me.
"You're making me look bad, Alex," She jokes, trying her best to look serious as she pushes off of the door frame and walks over to me. "Come on, work will be here in the morning. Let's get you in a cab and home." She flips my folder closed, not waiting for an answer.
I roll my eyes as I push myself back in my rolling chair, looking at her curiously. "Can I be honest with you?" I ask, my eyes trailing down her body and taking in her black slacks and short sleeved shirt. I feel bad for her having to run around in the heat all day, especially in slacks. I'm lucky enough to be able to wear a skirt and get away with a sheer blouse and yet I'm still hot, despite being in an air-conditioned building all day.
"Of course," She replies as she leans up against my desk, her hands curling over the edge as she waits for me to continue.
"I was planning on staying here because my AC isn't working and I can't get someone to come out and fix it no matter what my name is and how much money I flash," I tell her, earning me a smile, clearly getting my joke. The Cabot name certainly held a lot of power but she never let it affect her unlike most people. Most people would be bowing down at my feet in hopes of getting something out of me.
"Awh, Uncle Bill couldn't fix that?" She teases, winking at me. I chuckle in response, my mind falling back almost ten years when I had called in a favor from my uncle while detectives were still in my office. Of course they had then told the rest of the detectives, including Olivia, who wouldn't let me live it down even years later.
"Ha, ha," I reply, faking amusement although I was thoroughly amused with her memory. For some reason she could always seem to remember every detail of all the stupid things that I did over the years. Sometimes she'd tease me about them, other times she would simply offer me silent support, knowing that I didn't want to talk about the things that still give me nightmares. "But no, he couldn't. I even tried bribing the guy with a couple of extra Benjamin's but he laughed at me, telling me that everyone wanted their AC fixed right now."
"Well it is over a hundred degrees out during the day. I think it's almost back to ninety now," She replies with a shrug.
"Which is why I'd much rather sleep in my office than sweat the entire night in my boiling apartment. It doesn't help that the ventilation is horrible so it feels even hotter than it actually is," I explain as I push the folder that she had already closed forward, resigning myself from work just until she left. She gets up without saying anything and walks over to my couch, immediately plopping down onto it and spreading out. She takes a moment to put her hands behind her head and readjust before she flips over onto her side and looks at me. "What are you doing?" I chuckle as I shake my head at her awkward position on my short couch.
"This isn't very comfortable," She says as she bounces on the leather couch, as if trying to prove her point. "Plus leather is squeaky. Certainly you wouldn't be sleeping much if you actually stayed the night here."
"I'd sleep more than if I went home," I argue as I get up walk over to her. "You're getting your cooties on my bed," I tease her as I hold out a hand, offering to pull her up off of the uncomfortable couch.
"I am pretty sweaty," She says as she grabs onto my hand, allowing me to pull her up. "Guess you probably shouldn't sleep there now."
"Where else would I sleep?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, returning to my desk so that I can search for the spare tooth brush that I keep in one of my drawers.
"My apartment." I freeze in the middle of rummaging through a drawer and slowly look up at her.
"Excuse me?" I ask, not quite sure I heard her right.
"Come home with me, Alex. It's hot here and they probably turn off the AC overnight anyway." She's wrong because I had spent the night plenty of times before but I don't bother arguing with her because the idea of going home with her is far too appealing. "I happen to have a nice cool apartment where the AC still works and an incredibly comfortable bed." I raise an eyebrow, wondering if she meant she had a very comfortable spare bed. Or maybe she was going to take the couch and expect me to sleep in her bed. "Please, don't make me beg."
I look at her curiously. "Will you beg?" I tease, smirking as she laughs.
"Nah," She replies as she shrugs. "If you won't willingly go with me I'll just have to throw you over my shoulder and drag you out of here. Consider it an intervention." She takes a step closer to me and I step back in response, unsure if she's serious or not.
"Okay, okay! I'll go home with you," I finally say, grabbing my attaché case as she smiles and gestures for me to leave the office.
"That was a lot easier than I thought," She says as we walk out of the building and out to the hot parking lot where I'm assuming she parked her car. "I think you secretly want to go home with me," She whispers into my ear as she nudges my side playfully.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," I tease, nudging her back as we walk over to her black Mustang. I take a second to admire the glossy exterior and smooth muscles of the car.
"Desperate, huh?" She asks as she walks over to the driver's side, winking at me before jumping into the car. I follow her lead and get in, relieved when she blasts the AC, cooling us down from our short but tiring walk in the heat.
It doesn't take long for us to arrive outside of her apartment complex and it takes even less time for us to run up to her cool apartment, sighing in appreciation when we feel the cool air blow across us. "Thank you for allowing me to come over for the night," I tell her as she beckons me to follow her into a back room.
"I'll get you something to change in to," She explains as we enter her bedroom and she walks over to a drawer, rummaging through it. I take the moment to admire her room. It was simple yet tastefully decorated. The walls were bare yet appropriate for her, only a few pictures frames scattered around on the top of her dresser and one on her nightstand. I take a step closer, hoping she won't mind as I look at the picture on her nightstand, trying to see what it is.
I immediately recognize the picture as one that had been taken of her, Elliot, and me standing outside of the court room after a huge win. It was an old picture, from before I had left her and everyone else behind to slip into the dark abyss known as witness protection. I wondered when she put up that picture, was it after I left her or after Elliot left her? I bite my lip as I think back to that day. It was one of the first times that the two detectives had both accepted me and thanked me for winning the case. Olivia was so thrilled that she had grabbed onto me and pulled me over to Elliot, wrapping her arm tightly around my waist as Fin snapped a picture of us. I remember relishing the moment, simply reveling in the feeling of her arm wrapped around me, huge smiles all around.
"Will this work?" I turn back to see her holding out a pair of shorts and a tank top. I nod in response, surprised that she offered me something so…revealing but then again, it is hot, even with the AC on. I thank her and she points me toward the bathroom, allowing me to change first. I slip out of my uncomfortable work attire and put on her clothes, smelling her subtle sent on the tank top as I slip it over my head. I use the spare tooth brush that she had pointed out and splash some cold water on my face before returning to her bedroom.
The sheets on her bed are different now, a lighter shade of blue. "The sheets are clean," She explains as she grabs out clothing for herself. "Go lie down."
Before I have time to argue, she goes into the bathroom and closes the door. I want to argue with her, tell her that I don't want to take her bed but I'll wait until she comes back out. I walk over to the bed and sit down on the edge of it, looking at the picture frame resting on her nightstand. I pick it up, smiling at her grinning face. If I look hard enough, I can see her finger tips on my side, right below my breasts. I wonder if it was a conscious choice for her to place her hand there rather than lower around my waist, certainly not.
After a few minutes, I set the frame back down, just in time as she steps out of the bathroom, her longer brown hair pulled up into a messy ponytail, a few wisps hanging around her face. I smile internally as my heart flutters in response to her gorgeous face. It has been almost a decade since we last spent the night together but we didn't do much sleeping. We talked about witness protection, about how hard it is to be someone you're not.
She comforted me when I needed it, something that Elliot couldn't provide when he was watching over me and didn't dare try to provide. To him, I was still the same hard, cold prosecutor that he remembered years prior. But I allowed her to see me for who I really was, scared, afraid, tired, lost, hurt. Or maybe she figured that out on her own. And as much as I wished she had taken advantage of my vulnerable state that night, she didn't. I can feel the blush rising on my cheeks as I think of how she held me on the couch that night, trying her best to comfort me as I tried to hold back my tears.
"Are you planning on sleeping or just staring at my floor for the rest of the night?" I look up at her, an amused smile on her face. "Come on, it's late," She explains as she gestures for me to crawl into her bed.
"I don't want to steal your bed. You're already being kind enough to allow me to stay the night," I tell her as I glance at the inviting mattress.
"You're not, now lie down," She replies as she walks to the door and turns off the light. I look at her curiously, her figure illuminated from the New York lights flooding through her window. I remember her telling me once that she always keeps her blinds open because she loves the low glow of the city at night.
I finally slip into the bed, pushing the covers to the side so that I can just rest on the bottom sheet. She walks over to the opposite side of the bed, slipping in next to me. I lean up slightly, raising an eyebrow at her as she settles down on the mattress. "Are we having a sleepover or is this your way of telling me you're attracted to me?" I ask, grinning as one eye pops open and she smiles wide.
"You watched the show," She simply states as she grabs onto one of the pillows and rests her head on it, turning to face me. She had told me about a TV show a few years back while we were making small talk and I had gone home that night and watched the entire first season. Maybe I liked the show because she loved it or maybe I liked it because it reminded me of us in some small way.
"I did," I reply as I turn to face her, copying her motions and snuggling up against one of her pillows. I smile as I inhale deeply, her intoxicating scent filling my senses and relaxing me. A lot has changed since the last time we shared a bed, many years ago. Her hair is longer now, her breasts fuller, and her body more shapely than before but every inch of her is still as beautiful as that night, especially her soul.
"You haven't changed much." Her words surprise me, and her touch shocks me ever more as she uses a single finger to push my hair to the side so that it's no longer blocking my view of her.
I raise an eyebrow at her. "I certainly hope I've changed since we first met," I state, referring back to my egotistical behavior and my superior attitude.
"No," She laughs softly as she shakes her head. "Yes, you've changed in that sense but that's not what I meant. You've been one of my few constants. You left but you came back. He's not going to come back, I know that much but you, you always came back." I smile in response ducking my head ever so slightly because I'm still ridden with guilt from leaving her and not coming back until years later. "You're still just as beautiful as the day I met you."
Her words catch me by surprise and I look up at her, trying to see if her words were sincere. When I make eye contact with her, her brown eyes are soft, her lips curled up into a smile as she looks at me fondly. "You never saw it, did you?" She asks me quietly.
"What?" I question, my voice barely above a whisper.
"You never saw the way I looked at you. All of these years and you never saw it," She explains but I still don't understand what she's trying to say. Without a word, she leans closer to me, one hand coming up to cup my cheek. I hold my breath as she leans in ever so slowly, closing the distance between us. And when her lips touch mine, my eyes flutter closed and my heart rate doubles, my palms suddenly far too sweaty for her cool bedroom.
Her lips are smooth and soft against mine, the feeling far superior to what I imagined kissing her would feel like. And when her lips still against mine and her fingers run down my temple and to my cheek, caressing me, I lose it.
I push her onto her back, our lips separating for a split second before I'm on top of her, kissing her once more. One of her hands is pulling on my hair, bringing our lips closer together while her other hand is on my hip, her fingers digging into the flesh there as she pulls me impossibly closer.
God, how have I survived all those years not doing this to her? She's intoxicating, her scent, her taste, the feeling of her body against mine, it's all too much for me. I relinquish my power, allowing her to control me from below and she does.
She slips a leg between mine, raising it up until I can feel it right below me. I greedily press my lower half against her thigh, relishing in the feeling of our bare legs rubbing up against each other. My already too short shorts rise up even further and her hand that was on my hip migrates lower, gripping onto the back of my thigh before sliding up under the hem of my shorts.
Her hand cups my rear, massaging the flesh that she finds there and I moan against her lips, one of my hands tightening around her shoulder while the other pulls at her ponytail, discarding the tie so that I can weave my fingers into those long brown locks. She kisses me with a renewed passion as I pull at her hair and I grind down against her thigh, pushing my shorts up so high that they're effectively useless now.
Her hand abandons my skin and I whimper in response, only to feel her thumbs brushing against my lower abdomen a second later as she toys with the hem of my tank top. I pull away, just long enough for her to pull the shirt from my chest, revealing the entirety of my chest to her since I'm not wearing anything underneath.
Her breathing stops as she looks over my chest and I can't help but blush because I have never felt so exposed before in my life. Her eyes zone in on my right shoulder before she slowly raises her hand up, giving me enough time to stop her if I was so inclined before she presses her fingers gingerly against my gunshot wound. She runs her fingers across the raised pale skin before she pulls me back down against her, her lips finding their way over the scar.
Her breath is warm and coming out quickly against my scar and I'm surprised that I can even feel it. I bring her lips back up to mine, reconnecting a kiss that never seemed to end. I can feel her hands running over my sides, causing goosebumps to rise across my arms even though I'm feeling rather warm.
Her hands slowly migrate further up before she gently brushes them up against my breasts. I moan in response, my body instinctively responding to her touch causing my nipples to harden. She finally touches me, her hands closing around my breasts and palming them, sending a shot of pleasure straight through my body. Oh the things she does to me…
My fingers slide down to her side, tugging at her shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin. She leans up, just long enough to pull off her own shirt since my hands are shaking too much. Her hands slip down to my hips as I press our chests together, her breasts pressing against my smaller ones. Everything feels absolutely amazing, every touch, every pant, every stolen glance at each other.
Her hands settle on my hips, her fingers slipping into the waistline of my shorts before she pulls them down, just an inch. I lift up my hips in response, my head dropping down to rest next to her head as I try to catch my breath. She slides my shorts and underwear down in one motion, her body migrating underneath mine as she pushes them down to my calves.
Her hands return to my bare hips, pulling my lower half flush against hers again. Her leg slips back between my legs, pushing my shorts and underwear all the way down to my feet so that I can kick them off the rest of the way. When they're gone, she slides her leg up again, her thigh settling at the apex of my legs.
My heart is pounding against my ribcage, the sound of blood flowing in my ears muting all other noises. Her hands are on my hips, my back, my breasts, in my hair, everywhere but I'm frozen. I don't want to move in fear that I'll wake up and this will be yet another dream where I wake up in a cold sweat, images of her flooding my mind.
But when she pushes me away a few inches, breaking our kiss, I know that this isn't a dream. "Are you sure?" She whispers, one of her hands tracing across my temple and pushing my blonde locks behind my ear. If this was a dream, she wouldn't ask. She would know that I'm in love with her because I know that I'm madly in love with her.
"You never saw the way I looked at you either," I whisper as I bring my hand up to her face and trace my index finger across her kiss-swollen lips. "Years. I've wanted to kiss you for years." I lean down and press my lips against hers, my index finger still between us so that neither of us can deepen the kiss. "And now I finally can," I tell her as I trace my finger over her bottom lip once more. "So yes, I'm sure. I've never been more sure about anything in my life."
When I press my lower half against her thigh, she moans in response, no doubt feeling my arousal against her skin. I move against her as we kiss, her hands roaming all over my body, never quite settling on one specific part of me.
She gently rolls me over onto my back and settles between my legs as they fall open for her. She presses herself against me, ridding herself of her own shorts before pressing our lower halves together again. I instinctively wrap my legs around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer but she doesn't seem to mind. We kiss, hands exploring, fingertips brushing against every inch of bare skin that we can find. We touch wantonly but it's not rushed. We want to take our time exploring one another for all of those years that we missed.
When her fingers brush against my sex, I gasp. I'm embarrassed to admit that I haven't made love to anyone in years, not even with my former fiancé. Sex, yes, there was plenty of that but I was never much of an active participant. Every touch at the hands of him or anyone other than Olivia pained me but I still let everyone before her touch me because if only for a split second, I could close my eyes and pretend that it was her.
But now, now it really is her. It's her hands that are touching me tenderly. It's her voice that asked for my permission to touch me. It's her scent that's filling my senses. It's her body that is pressed up against mine, lips tangled together as she pushes two fingers into me.
I gasp at the sensation, pulling my lips away from hers so that I can rest my head against her shoulder as waves of pleasure wash over me. She asks me if I'm okay before continuing, her sweet voice pulling me back to reality. I can only nod against her shoulder, too scared that I wouldn't be able to string a coherent sentence together.
I close my eyes as her fingers move inside of me, slowly, tenderly rather than savagely like I had always expected our first time to be but that was okay. Her gentle touch convinced me that I couldn't imagine our first time being any other way now.
I moan softly against her neck as her fingers curl inside of me, driving me closer to the edge but for some reason, it isn't about reaching release. She pulls back so that my head is no longer against her shoulder and kisses my forehead, coaxing me to look up at her. When I do, she kisses the top of my nose and then my lips, her fingers still moving slowly inside of me.
"I love you, Alex." Her words surprise me, causing me to open up my eyes as she kisses my lips once more. "I always have. Even when we fight and I yell at you." Her fingers are still moving inside of me and I close my eyes as my body coils up, preparing for release. She moves her lips down my cheek and to my ear. "I love you," She whispers in my ear before placing a soft kiss against my cheek and I come undone.
My body reacts to her words and I release all the tension in my body, moaning out her name, chanting it as if she was the only one in the world right now. She coaxes me down through the waves of pleasure, each more intense than the first until I slowly wind down. She's gentle, never expecting more than I can give, never taking more than I can offer her.
She peppers my forehead with kisses despite the fact that I can tell I'm sweaty; she doesn't care. She kisses each of my closed eyelids before sliding back down to my lips, pulling me into a deep, passionate kiss. I hold onto her tightly, pulling her until she fully rests her weight on top of me. I revel in the feeling of her on top of me, something that I never thought I would experience.
"I love you, too," I mumble against her lips, my lips curling up into a smile when I feel hers do the same.
When I wake the following morning, she's lying next to me, her warm brown eyes watching me as she smiles fondly. I blink a couple of times as I narrow my gaze at her since my glasses were long ago discarded. I sleepily rub my eyes before grabbing my black frames and slipping them on.
"God, you're even more beautiful in the morning," She whispers as she slides over next to me, a hand settling around my waist as she pulls me closer and kisses my cheek. "Any regrets?"
I shake my head in response as I grab my phone. I quickly listen to a new voicemail that I have before I open up the weather app. "So it's supposed to be ninety for the next three days," I tell her, looking over at her to see if she gets what I'm implying.
"Maybe you should stay over then since your AC isn't fixed yet," She says with a grin.
"You're probably right," I reply as I kiss her softly against the lips before pulling away. I glance back at the voicemail from my apartment manager telling me that he fixed my AC before deleting it and putting my phone back on her bedside table. I take a moment to look at the picture frame that's residing there. "So this picture," I start off as I point to it.
"It's been there ever since they told me you didn't make it," She whispers as she grabs onto my waist, pulling me across the mattress so that I'm lying right next to her. She wraps both of her arms around me, pulling me close as she kisses me chastely. "I'm so glad they were wrong."
I run my fingers across her lips, tracing them like I had the night before. "Me too."