I'm not really sure what this is but it's been in my head for years and now it's coming out. Set mid season 12. Warning: Sexual content, course language and mild violence. Thanks for reading.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"Take it off," he rasped into her ear as his fingers jerked at the strap of her cocktail dress. Her mouth was on his then, her tongue dragging across his lower lip as she rose up to adhere to his demand. She arched her back locating the zip and her breasts pushed up into his chest. Before she had the chance, he grabbed the dress strap and yanked it downward exposing her bra. His palm grasped the satin squeezing, groping as his breath ran ragged against her neck.
"All the way," he tells her but he's not even giving her the chance as his hand pulls the other strap mercilessly down her waist and over her hips. As the dress settles somewhere around her knees she reaches for his shirt attempting to unbutton it but he grasps her wrists. As he holds them against the mattress he plunges his tongue into her mouth, using a knee to push her dress further down her legs and clean off the bed.
Her legs are free now but her wrists are held in place as his lips drag relentlessly over the column of her neck. He's rough, cocky, and presumptuous as all hell but tonight she needs it. After the day she had today she fucking needs to be taken.
"Damn it Olivia, you have no idea," Elliot's loud voice cut her off in the middle of the squad room. "So don't even pretend to understand."
She's trying to block out their argument when she feels his lower half sink into hers, his erection hitting her square between the legs. She groans low and guttural and tries unsuccessfully to deter her mind from her partner.
"Right so because of my marital status I'm not entitled to an option?" she had stabbed back defensively.
"You got cuffs?" the man above her breathes into her ear and her eyes snap open. She's slightly taken aback but something stirs inside of her, intrigue or perhaps just the desire to just let herself go. He still has her pinned to the bed and her mind begins to analyze the potential risks associated with his request but it's competing with the five or so cocktails she'd consumed tonight. He sucks on the crux of her neck and rocks his erection firmly between her legs and a moan escapes her. Then it's Elliot's rebuttal that hits her full force.
"In these cases, your viewpoint will always be partial Olivia."
She had wanted to scream, curse at him and fire back that she doesn't need to be a half assed wife to understand the concept of unholy matrimony. Instead, she simply narrowed her eyes and filed his insult next to the numerous other times she'd held her tongue. He had practically smirked at her, almost daring her to bite but Cragen had changed the subject before she could change her mind.
She's still thinking about the handcuffs, pondering, she knows it's not a good idea but damn it, she's just so fucking over it. She just wants to let go for once in her godforsaken life and not to have to analyze every possible threat or risk. She needs something to distract her from Elliot and the constant entourage of B.S. that's attached.
"You said you were a cop, right?" He questions her but all she can feel is his cock prodding at her insistently through his trouser pants and she needs to remove the barrier. She's still on that fence between right and wrong and she's trying to work out if she's still drunk or just tipsy now.
His hands ease up on her wrists and they're trailing across her body now, one down the side of her rib cage, the other sliding over her jaw as he drags her lower lip between hers and sucks. She doesn't know if it's her anger from the day that pushes her over the edge or the fact that those cocktails contained four types of rum, but she's rocking her lower half against him when she says it.
"Top draw," she breathes into his mouth and she feels his lips curl into a smile as he digs his teeth softly into her lower lip. He rises up immediately, his hips knocking into her as he reaches for her bedside table draw and pulls out the metal bracelets. He goes for one of her wrists but she surprises him by shoving him onto his back and moving a leg either side of him, straddling his hips.
She reaches down snatching at the cuffs but he is too fast, holding them out of her grasp. A few moments pass and she stares down at the piercing blue eyes, telling herself that's not why she chose him tonight. When she realizes the cuffs are unattainable she changes course and begins to rock her lower half against him in soft, languid motions.
She watches as his eyes draw to a gentle close and his free hand moves to her hip pulling her down to grind himself against her. She uses his closed eyes to her advantage and swoops down quickly, snatching the cuffs and smiling to herself as she attempts to lock a bracelet over his wrist.
He rises up quickly, his hips knocking into her and suddenly she's crashing onto her back. She feels the shift in his demeanor immediately. He's rough now and far less patient and her throat catches when she realizes this doesn't feel like a game anymore. He snatches her hand and her breathing falters because he's squeezing it now as the cool metal closes around her wrist. The alarm bells sound and she uses her legs to kick but she hits thin air before she tries again and connects with his thigh. He groans in pain and she tries to struggle out from underneath his weight. She twists frantically and is practically sliding off the edge of the bed but he grabs her around the waist, yanking her back into his chest. Her voice isn't working but her free hand slams against the bedside table, grasping at the draw that contains her service weapon.
"Relax," he whispers into the back of her neck and it sends shivers down her spine as his hand at her waist tightens into an iron vice. The other is grabbing at her wrist with the bracelet and when he manages to secure it, her eyes sting from the onset of tears. This can't be happening she is telling herself, this is all just in her head. She wills herself not to cry because tears will only weaken her fight and there is still time. He's reaching for her free hand now and she's thrashing against him, her breaths coming out in short, audible yells. When his fingers curl around her free wrist she lets out a scream and the shrillness of her own voice rings in her ears.
He yanks her hands roughly above her head and she twists beneath him, the fight in her is undeniable but it's that one definitive moment when the metal closes around her other wrist that makes her heart practically stop. She hears it click into place and his palm comes up and muffles her scream. She tries to jerk at her hands but it's futile because they're captured in between the wooden rung of her headboard.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he tells her quickly, as if she was insane to think otherwise and she tries to catch her breath under the force of his palm. She blinks up at him worriedly but there's something about his eyes and his tone that makes her think that maybe he won't. Her instincts as a cop are far too sharp to leave her blind. Even after the rum, this guy in no way, shape or form fits the profile of a predator. It's just that 1% of uncertainty that leaves her body trembling and heart in her throat.
"I'm going to take my hand off your mouth," he tells her slowly. "If you scream, yell, or so much as raise your voice," he informs her. "Then I have no problem getting your gun out." Her heart thumping incessantly now and her chest is rising rapidly at the thought that he knows where her gun is. "I don't want to use it Olivia," he tells her slowly and the use of her name makes her eyes water. She'd mentioned at some point, somewhere around the third cocktail but had assumed he'd all but forgotten. She wasn't even sure what his name was. M something. Michael, Matthew, Mitchell? Mitchell she thinks. Fuck.
Slowly he releases his hand and watches anxiously to see if she will scream again but she remains quiet. She waits, apprehensively and she can feel her breasts rising steadily with every sharp intake. Her mouth opens slightly intent on asking him what he wants but she closes it when she realizes she's not ready for the answer.
"Your desk out there," he says slowly and he's moving off the bed now, over her body until he's planted his feet on the floor beside her. "Is that where you keep your paperwork?" His voice sounds strangely casual now and she doesn't understand why he is asking her about paperwork. Her eyebrows draw together in confusion and her voice isn't cooperating so she waits for him to continue. "Lindbrook," he informs her slowly. "The case information, where is it?"
Her mouth opens then as she attempts to sit up but the cuffs hinder any chance of an upright movement. Her mind is spinning and she's trying to process what he's asking her and channel her thoughts into reasons why but the alcohol is still clouding.
"Who are you?" she says slowly and she wonders then if she's dreaming because it seems like it's the only logical explanation at this point. When it's clear she's not going to answer him, he simply walks out of her bedroom intent on finding his own answers.
Fuck.
The moment he is out of sight it's like a switch is flicked and she is tugging relentlessly at cuffs, twisting her body until her feet are planted on the ground. Her gun and cell are in the draw of her bedside table so she's using her knee in an attempt to open it.
She can hear him out in her living room, near the alcove and she can hear the sounds of her desk drawers opening and papers being shuffled. She gets the drawer open a smidge, but soon realizes it's redundant because unless she can secure her weapon or phone with her feet, she's pretty much screwed.
She kneels on the bed and instead turns her attention to the headboard, she grasps hold of the wooden pole and pulls forcibly, relentlessly, knowing full well her strength is no match but she has to try something. She can't just lie there and wait for him to return. Her ass is practically in the air when she hears him return and she's still tugging, the whole bed shaking under her force.
"Hey - HEY," he yells in panic as if he is concerned she might concur some superhuman strength and break free but she doesn't stop. He moves over to the side of the bed and he grabs her hands, pulling them off. He nudges her firmly at her waist until she hits the bed and falls onto her back again. His eyes lock onto hers before they dip unconsciously to her breasts and down her stomach and it's a painful reminder that she's still in her underwear. He's visibly distracted as he eyes the white stain and she holds her breath feeling incredibly exposed.
"Christ," he mutters under his breath before running a hand over his face. "I should get a fucking metal for my restraint," he mumbled against his hand. Her heart is thumping as he ogles her body but she tries to look at this as a positive. Restraint, meaning he's intending to keep his hands off her now because that's not what he came here for. The other part of her is still wading through the uncertainty of who he was and what the hell was going on.
She watches something tick over in his mind and his eyes are no longer on her body, they're staring directly into hers, narrowing almost. "I know it's here," he tells her without question and she doesn't flinch. "It's not at the precinct, so where is it?"
The words sink in and her breathing starts to heighten and it's clear now that he knows far too much about their sensitive case. She's not going to tell him, she knows it's sitting on her coffee table under a newspaper and a stack of magazines but she's not saying shit. She realizes she's in no position to ask the questions, but she wants answers first.
"Who are you?" her voice croaks and she tries to block out that impending sense of failure that her instincts had let her down tonight. He'd seemed like a normal, charismatic guy that she could lose herself with and now it all appeared to be part of his ruse.
She had initiated conversation with him tonight, not vise versa. He'd sat two seats away from her when she'd noticed his charm. He'd lingered, he'd smiled from a far, he'd waited all night for her to make contact and like a moth to a flame, she had foolishly taken the bait. She felt pitiful and what's more, he'd been to the precinct, he'd gone through their files and she had no inkling whatsoever.
"Please tell me what's going on?" she whispered deflated, whatever it was Cragen was going to have her ass when it came time to explain this.
"The file detective," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to ask you again."
Her stomach dropped, he knew her, there was familiarity in the way he was speaking to her and it threw her through a loop. Her mind began to race; past victims, past suspects, past cases, past witnesses, trying desperately to link him to someone or something but it all came up blank.
What the hell was his connection to the Lindbrook case?
"Who do you work for?" she tried and he was shaking his head as his attention moved to the top drawer she'd left slightly ajar. She watched as he reached in for the gun, released the safety, loaded it and pointed it directly at her forehead. It had all seemed instinctual, methodical. This guy had to be a cop or a fed because the familiarity with her weapon was far too meticulous.
"I don't have time for this," he practically seethed and it was clear now that his patience with her earlier had all since dissipated. He moved forward until the cold metal of the barrel pressed directly against her forehead and her breath hitched. "Now tell me where the god damn file is Olivia."
She swallowed, her eyes closing at the sight of the gun against her head and as the pin pricks of tears surfaced, she realized it never got any easier. She tried not to let her lip tremble when she spoke. "Coffee table," she whispered and in the few brief moments when he didn't move her heart clenched tightly in her chest.
A few debilitating moments of silence passed before she felt the pressure of the weapon ease up on her forehead and relief washed over. When she opened her eyes again, she caught sight of his back disappearing from her bedroom once more.
Fuck! She tried to block out the shit she'd be in for letting him waltz out of here with confidential details on the Lindbrook case. She couldn't even comprehend the impending conversation she'd have to have with Cragen. How was she supposed to explain letting a stranger into her house and willingly handcuff her to her bed? She needed to stop him, to stop this. Cragen had spent the better part of this week drilling in the fact that under no circumstances were they to discuss this case with anyone. Now here she was, flat on her back giving it up in an instant.
He was back in her bedroom already and despite realizing he'd have no trouble finding it, her heart still sank when she saw it in his hands. He was flicking through the contents briefly before he shoved it into his bag. She knew she'd only have seconds now.
"Please," she said softly going for a gentler, less intimidating approach. "Please tell me what's going on?" He looked over at her, dragging his lower lip into his mouth before releasing it.
"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," he told her quietly and she hated that his voice still sounded so serine and soothing. She prayed she hadn't been the only one to fall for this guys crap.
He stepped a little closer and she held her breath as he made his way around to the side of her bed once more. She watched as his eyes moved from hers to the top draw and he was opening it, pulling out her cell phone. She watched as he walked it over to her dresser and placed it down. He then pulled her service weapon from the back of his pants and left it next to her phone. When the realization sunk in that he intended on leaving her tied to the bed she closed her eyes in distress.
"Please, you can't leave me like this," she practically whispered, her eyes still shut tightly when she spoke. When she was only met with silence, they slipped open and he was looking at her contemplatively before he scratched the stubble on his jaw.
"Special orders," he informed her and her mind spun.
Special orders.
What the hell? Someone had requested he leave her here practically naked, handcuffed to her bed? She wanted to explode, to curse, to give this guy a piece of her mind but she knew she'd have to reign in her temper if she had any hope of reasoning with him.
"Please," she said almost breathy. "No one has to know, my keys are in the living room, just throw them to me and I'll wait till you leave."
He laughed then, scoffed almost at her suggestion and shook his head as if to imply he wasn't born yesterday. She knew there was an edge of compassion within him, she'd seen it when he was opening up to her at the bar, she just had to locate it.
"I live alone," she reminded him quickly, knowing she didn't have long. "No one will find me for days."
He ran a hand through his hair, the hair that only moments earlier she'd been sliding her fingers through and he appeared to be debating something in his mind. He laughed then, a short, half laugh that didn't reach his eyes.
"I'll make sure your partner gets the call," he told her and her stomach dropped two floors.
No. Not Elliot. Please, anyone but Elliot. She couldn't have him find her like this. Not after their argument today, not ever. Jesus Christ, she'd never hear the end of it. The blame, the accusation, the lectures that she should know better about safety and danger. She couldn't deal with it tonight, not when she already had the consequences of this screw up to deal with. She'd do anything.
As he picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, she stopped him hurriedly.
"Wait," she pleaded. "Not Elliot, please just call my captain." The desperation in her voice had been thick as she'd tried to bargain with him. Cragen would have to know about this eventually and at least she'd have a slim chance of keeping this under wraps from Elliot.
She clung onto the tiny fragment of hope that he'd comply and for a brief moment it appeared he was considering her request. It was when his lips turned upward into the makings of a small smile that she knew her fate was sealed.
"No, I think Stabler's going to enjoy this," his eyes flickered at the mere thought. "Tell him I said hi."
He flashed his pearly whites at her one last time and then he was gone.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
TBC
