Sorry I can't update anything of importance right now.


No Touching


The leather ripples beneath his thighs as he watches her enter.

The dimly lit décor competes with the musty stench but all he can focus on is her.

He'd paid for a lap dance.

He'd requested her specifically.

A lap dance from Olivia Benson.

He tries not to think about the gravity of that statement.

As she steps closer there isn't a hint of waver in her stare.

She knows why he's here, he has information for her.

Case related.

Not the kind that could wait.

She humors him like a patron, bending down to move the glass of bourbon out of his hands and he can't pull his eyes away. Her ample breasts are pushing out of her strapless corset and when she turns to place the glass on the table he notices her leather skirt barely covers her ass.

His jaw tenses when she gets close enough that their knees knock and it happens quickly, leather rippling beneath their weight as she straddles his hips, his dress pants scraping across her bare inner thighs as she presses him further back against the booth back.

He swallows, the scent of vanilla filling his nostrils as she runs her mouth to the base of his ear. His chest clutches with nerves and anticipation as her arms encircle his neck and she moves her body forward.

"No touching," she hums throatily, her mouth in no rush to move.

And suddenly it doesn't matter that this is a front, that it's all a pure act.

He's about to get a lap dance from Olivia Benson.


Her hips are moving lazily against his.

There is provocative music emanating in the background, flickering neon lights, a haze of cigarette smoke above their heads. It's a tasteless setting but in that moment he doesn't want to be anywhere else.

She tilts her head back and stares back at him with the hint of a smirk and he's enamored by the sight before him. She's pissed at the situation he's put her in and he knows she'll give him hell for it later but right now she seems almost content with their predicament.

His eyes slip closed and a perfume infused haze fills his chest and she doesn't hold back, her movements are methodical, timed, he can feel her lifting up to the beat until suddenly he feels her cleavage swiping against his face.

He uses the proximity to grasp her cheek, he needs her closer so he can whisper his message. He drags her face down to his but as her pulse point thuds against the palm of his hand he freezes.

She's so close now.

So fucking close.

He could lean in.

Christ he could kiss her.

His eyes drop to her mouth.

"What'd I say?" her deep voice drags as the words expel against his lips but she doesn't back it up. She doesn't pull away, she just lingers right there, dangling herself in front of him like a piece of meat.

He drops his hand from her cheek, skimming her upper arm on it's decent and he doesn't take the bait.

"I have something for you," he says, attempting to morph his words into terms that he wouldn't have to whisper.

Something flickers in her eyes and she tilts her head.

"Oh yeah?" She plays along and when she licks her lips he can't tell if she's toying with him or if it's all part of the act. "And what's that?"

Her eyes twinkle as his hand finds the ridge of her hip, stilling her against him, preventing her from continuing with her hip movements.

"Right pocket," he tells her slowly, his thumb swiping innocently across her hip, indicating there is something in there for the taking.

Her eyes move briefly downward to the dress pants he's sporting before they move back up to his. Then it's moments before she is leaning forward, her hands slowly cupping his cheeks before she is lazily running her lips across his in a perfect line.

"Take it out," she whispers against his mouth. "Show me what you've got."


All he can concentrate on is her mouth against his.

Teasing feather like strokes that makes his chest thrum with a need to take her.

Show me what you've got.

Fuck.

She's moving her hips again, intimately pressing herself into his crotch as she runs her mouth across his and he swallows, summoning every bit of restraint not to grasp her lips between his and kiss her.

His hands are still on her hips as she continues to rock against his but she isn't taking the hint. She's in no way tapering down so he starts to move his hand down to her thigh, intent on slipping it into his pocket.

Their heads knock softly, their breaths intermingling as he digs his hand in his pocket until he's reclaiming a small piece of paper.

He intends to move it into her hand but she's more interested in his mouth.

"No," she whispers against his lips, nudging the corner of his mouth open and his head spins.

Fuck Olivia.

This right here would be the death of him. Olivia Benson - leather clad, attempting to lay one on him front and centre. But she doesn't, instead she grasps his wrist and slowly starts to guide it towards her breasts. She nips at the corner of his lips and he's a goner as she presses his hand between her cleavage, urging him to slip the piece of paper down her top.

Christ.

What happened to no touching?

She makes a noise as he pushes his hand between her breasts, her lips parting against his in response and he grasps her mouth suddenly, drawing her into a lazy, deep peck before his hand slips out of her cleavage.

He releases her lips soon after and she pulls back, her cheeks flushed from his motion.

"You done?" she murmurs, an undeniable waver in her voice.

She's trying to retain her front but he feels the dynamic shift as he slides his hand across the curve of her jaw, drawing her mouth achingly close to his.

"Not yet," he whispers huskily before his eyes drop down to his waiting mouth.

"We've still got 10 minutes."


End.