ADA Alexandra Cabot was pacing. The journey from O'Malley's to her apartment in the Upper West Side had passed in a blur, and her heart was still pounding. Had Elliot seen us? Things with Olivia had developed so suddenly that she'd been hesitant to label things. She'd also been reluctant to over-analyse, to think about the future – for once, she was happy to let things develop organically, but it struck her that sooner or later, certain expectations would drag her back to real life. Their friendship was so solid that this new direction had seemed a natural progression, in some respects. On the other hand, she still got butterflies just thinking about the gorgeous brunette detective. Absent-mindedly she touched her thigh, as if she could still feel that warm, solid hand resting there. Predictably, her insides fluttered, and she poured herself a glass of wine, taking a healthy swig. Alex had an almost-borderline obsession with those hands. The way they held a gun; the way they could comfort a victim. She felt almost honoured that Olivia wanted to touch her, which she knew was silly, but when she thought of just how she wanted to be touched, her thoughts took a much less silly turn.
"God, Cabot, get a hold of yourself," she muttered, raising her glass again but barely registering the taste as her mind entertained itself with various possibilites. A phone call shook her out of her reverie, and she grinned when she recognised the number.
"Hey, was just about to call you."
"Hey, Alex. You got home okay?"
The blonde shivered a little at the timbre of Olivia's voice.
"Yeah, about five minutes ago. Any news?" She hated bringing work into their discussion but she knew Olivia was more than likely still at the scene.
"Just on our way back to the precinct. He killed himself, Alex."
The attorney carefully placed her wineglass on the kitchen counter. The news was a blow on multiple levels, the first being rather personal. Poor John. She'd talked to him briefly the day before, offering her condolences and help with anything he needed. The words seemed paltry at the time, but now seemed almost worthless.
"Oh," was all she could say.
Olivia was instantly concerned. "Alex? You okay? Look, I'm about a ten minute drive from you. Want me to come over?"
"...yeah. I could do with seeing a friendly face." The blonde distantly realised that Olivia would probably be with Elliot, but at that moment in time, she couldn't care less what he thought. For all he knew they were good friends. She knew her irritation was unreasonable but she couldn't help but be protective over their privacy. Lawyers could play dirty, but she trusted Elliot – as Olivia's partner – to be discreet.
"I'll be there soon." Olivia hung up, and Alex felt the loss immediately. However, the knowledge that she was on her way pushed all thoughts of death and darkness to the back of her mind.
Thanking Elliot for the ride, Olivia straightened herself up before entering Alex's building. Whenever the attorney paid a visit to the squad room, she always felt slightly self-conscious about her appearance – especially if she'd been working on a case for days – but tonight she was anxious. She wasn't sure what would happen when she entered the apartment, but it couldn't hurt to smarten up a bit. Olivia was still playing with her cropped hair when she knocked on Alex's door.
"Alex, it's me."
The attorney opened the door a minute later, taking Olivia's breath away. Dressed in a silk kimono, she looked effortlessly elegant and the detective forgot all about why she was there. Alex smirked a little as her attire had the desired affect. Though Olivia was obviously tired, she looked as brooding and intense as ever. Something flared within the blonde, like fire through her veins.
"Hey, Liv," she said, softly. "Would you like a drink?"
Remembering what Woodson had been drinking with his medication had put Olivia off spirits for a while. "Beer would be great," she said, finding her voice and shrugging off her jacket. Although anywhere indoors would have felt instantly warmer to the sub-zero temperatures outside, she was pretty sure she felt the heat spike once Alex had opened the door. She had to make an effort to draw her eyes away from Alex's legs, the smooth skin and delicate ankles providing a very happy distraction. Some string music was playing quietly in the background, adding to the elegance of her surroundings even further. She couldn't have been further removed from the crime scene if she'd tried, and for that she was extremely grateful.
Alex soon returned with an open bottle, settling herself next to Olivia on the couch. Handing it to the detective, she made use of Olivia's free arm and put it around her shoulders, resting her head on her chest. She could hear Olivia's heartbeat increase slightly, before settling into a more regular rhythm, and inhaled the scent of the woman beneath her. It made her instantly comfortable.
"We're waiting for Warner's report but there doesn't seem to be anything suspicious. Techs will let us know if they find anything of interest." Thankful that her voice was steady, Olivia started to stroke Alex's arm, enjoying the silky feel beneath her fingertips. The gentle rhythm soothed them both.
"This is the most relaxed I've been all day. Hard to think we were at the theatre only a few hours ago."
"I know. Good thing it's a Saturday tomorrow, do you have much trial prep to get through?"
"That depends. What are you up to this weekend?"
Olivia's heart rate picked up again, as she realised what Alex was asking. Little did she realise that the attorney was feeling equally nervous. She looked down into pale blue eyes and found that they steadied her.
"Technically I'm working tomorrow afternoon but we're at a bit of a dead end at the moment. Will probably have a look at the Woodson report once it's finished, but that could take a while."
"So...tomorrow morning you don't really need to be anywhere?"
Olivia laughed. "Not really. What are you suggesting, counsellor?"
"That you take me to bed."
Alex was deadly serious, and Olivia could almost see her irises darkening. Her glasses had been discarded long ago, and the detective could feel the intensity of her gaze like a kick to the gut. Heart racing, she dipped her head to meet Alex's lips, but it was obvious that the attorney was wanting more than just a kiss. As she moved to lay the slim blonde beneath her, she realised that they'd never even discussed where things were going. The slight movement of the hips beneath hers soon distracted her from such thoughts, and her hands set to exploring every inch of Alex's legs.
"Not that I don't mind what you're- doing," Alex gasped, as Olivia's hands skimmed her inner thighs, "but do you want to take this to the bedroom?"
Her voice carried a slightly authoritative tone, and it turned the brunette on even more. Though it took her a while to remove her hands, Olivia helped the attorney rise and walked down the hall, the music in the kitchen fading and the roaring of blood in her ears getting louder. She could see her hand tremble slightly as she moved to open the door, before Alex's laid atop it.
"Those hands of yours...you don't know how long I've been waiting to feel them on me...inside me."
Olivia gasped, sensing the proximity of Alex's body behind her. The hall was slightly cooler than the living room, and she could feel the warmth of the blonde's body against her back. Slender fingers ran across the spread of her shoulders, down her arms and to her hips. Opening the door was suddenly a momentous effort, but Alex took care of it for her, before playfully shoving her into the room.
Pushing Olivia onto the bed, she straddled the supine woman, enjoying the feel of Olivia Benson beneath her. It didn't take long for the brunette to switch their positions, however, removing Alex's robe with enthusiasm. The blonde groaned as Olivia pinned her arms above her head and started to kiss her way down her body. Slightly roughened fingers traced her ribs; a warm mouth charted her breasts and caused her to moan even louder. She could feel Olivia smiling against her stomach, but the intensity of her current situation was no laughing matter for Alex Cabot.
"Liv," she gasped, her hips moving against the detective's strong upper body. "I need you."
Olivia stopped what she was doing to bring her head level with Alex's own. "Where, sweetheart?" she asked, knowing what the blonde needed but unsure how best to give it to her. In response, Alex grasped her hand, arching her back as she manipulated Olivia's fingers to push deeply into her.
"Fuck, Alex." Olivia was in awe, the intimate gesture affecting her more than she had anticipated.
"Yes, you are," the blonde panted, laughing slightly at her own joke. She moaned again as Olivia took control of the situation, filling her in ways she had never experienced before. Must be those hands. The detective's mouth was also keeping busy.
"You're so wet, Alex," she groaned, her fingers moving inside the woman beneath her at an increasing pace. "I want to make you come. You want that, don't you?"
Alex's hips shot off the bed as she felt Olivia's tongue lick her clit, and she risked a look downwards. Deep brown eyes were looking at her and she could see just what Olivia was doing to her, intensifying the sensations. The sight pushed her to the edge, where every touch of Olivia's mouth sent sparks down her legs and across her stomach. The pleasure increased to the point where it could go no further and she came, a hand grasping Olivia's head and a shout escaping her mouth before she could realise what had happened.
"Fuck."
Olivia was suddenly all around her, her touch soothing and voice low in her ear.
"Liv-" she attempted to speak, but the brunette stopped her.
"It's okay, Alex. Rest a minute." She waited for the blonde to catch her breath, before kissing her deeply.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but tasting myself on you turns me on," Alex said, feeling her libido kick in again.
"You coming in my mouth turns me on," Olivia groaned, as Alex decided to return the favour.
When Olivia walked into work fifteen minutes late the next day, Sixteenth Precinct was a bit of a zoo, in the words of John Munch.
"Captain's just giving the press some details about John Woodson."
"Anything from Warner?"
"Nothing to contradict the current verdict of suicide." Munch handed her a coffee, cradling his own like it was liquid gold.
"Thanks, John. Reminds me, I need to look someone up."
"Oh yeah?"
"Some reporter we encountered outside the Woodson house last night. Something about him just struck me as odd."
Munch was already pulling up the database. "Name?"
As Olivia was spelling his last name, Cragen walked into the squad room.
"Okay everyone, I know that you're all aware of procedure but I want no details of this case leaking out. I've given the press all the information they should need about John Woodson, so if they ask you about him it'll more than likely lead into questions about his daughter. Huang thinks that this guy wants media attention, and until we catch a break, we're not giving it to him. Alright, back to work everyone."
Olivia's attention returned to the screen. Flipping through her notebook for the address, she verified that James Sloan had a record for assault. What kind of newspaper would hire him? Must be freelance. A quick internet search by Munch proved her hunch correct.
"His articles seem to have a dark twist," he mused. "Murder...rape...arson. He's written a hell of a lot about them, recently covered the Subway Strangler in great depth."
"Has he written anything about our guy?" Olivia asked, referring to their serial.
Munch scrolled through a few more pages. "No," he said, sounding puzzled. "You would have thought that'd be right up his street."
"I know Cap said not to talk to reporters, but this is one I'd like to speak with."
The reporter in question was currently palming Advil in an attempt to battle a raging headache. Futilely rubbing at his eyes, he tried to focus on the screen in front of him.
"Why is she not there?" he said, to nobody in particular.
The bald man on the screen wasn't nearly as entertaining to watch. That man – Stabler? Yeah, him – was in the background, but not Detective Benson. He realised he'd been grinding his teeth in frustration, which probably wasn't helping the pounding in his head. Sloan closed his eyes against the barrage of colour and noise. His right arm suddenly swung out, and the glass that had been next to him went flying into the wall, sending chunks of glass everywhere. Water ran down the faded wallpaper like blood. The reporter watched it for a while, fascinated, his anger suddenly forgotten.
Time for some more fun. He'd waited long enough.
