A/N: Told ya I hadn't forgotten about the lingerie drabble. :) I've gotten a few requests for some hurt/comfort drabbles as well. I see you, and I'm taking that into consideration. Also, I think we can just assume from now on that all my drabbles take place in the Devilish-verse, unless otherwise stated. However, at this point, "Little Devils" would probably be a better description of this series, lol. That said, you absolutely don't need to have read The Devil You Know and/or Idle Hands to follow these drabbles (although, if you haven't... WHY :P). Anyway, enjoy!
Breathe in . . . 3 . . . 4. Hold for a count of . . . 6 . . . 7. Exhale forcefully from the mouth . . . 6. . . 7. . . 8.
But no matter how hard Olivia pushed the air out of her lungs, her pulse was still racing, fingers still dancing a little jig in her lap. She wanted to touch, not watch. The sheer ivory one with the daisy designs and that delightful bit of lace—deceptively skirtlike in the front, until a flirtatious twirl revealed the thong in back—had put her over the edge. If they didn't get out of this dressing room soon, she would have to arrest herself for public indecency.
It was ridiculous, really. She saw Amanda naked on a regular basis. Had, in fact, been treated to a special matinee performance earlier in the day. She shouldn't be sitting here, marinating, salivating, palpitating . . .
Irritating—that's what it was, the blonde's power over her body and its various appetites. Amanda's libido rivaled that of any frat boy, and damned if Olivia's didn't often rise to the occasion as well. She had never been the type to drop what she was doing and come running when someone beckoned, especially for something as hedonistic as sexual gratification, but the past few months with Amanda had unleashed her inner borderline slutty, Jell-O shot-pounding sorority girl.
And speaking of being beckoned.
One of the stall doors squeaked open and a finger emerged, crooking sinuously in her direction several times. Olivia took another deep breath, squared her shoulders, and after a quick glance around to make sure none of the attendants were hovering too near the lounge, strode towards her girlfriend's extended arm with all the dignity and self-restraint she possessed.
A moment later, she was pinned to the mirror inside the dressing room—a space no larger than an airplane lavatory—with Amanda's lips crushing hers, the blonde's hands dangerously close to the belted waistband of Olivia's loose-fitting slacks. They were the wide-legged kind, a la Katharine Hepburn, and Olivia had matched them with a simple, silky white button-down, the sleeves rolled up to quarter length. On her feet were a pair of black velvet loafers, the flattest soles she had worn that week. It was meant to be a casual yet classy weekend style, but the minute she'd walked out of the bedroom wearing it, her hair coiffed in a long side-swept wave, she realized her mistake. Amanda had practically licked her chops.
And now, the detective's tongue was enthusiastically engaged once again, but it was Olivia who felt the warm tendrils of desire unfurl in her belly. This time, the lingerie was a pale peach color, nearly indistinguishable from Amanda's skin tone, save for a sprinkling of polka dots on the frothy lace that flared around her hips and breasts. Sweet little bows were strategically placed on the bra straps and cleavage, and centered at the waistline of both garter belt and panties. Olivia wanted to kiss them one by one, working her way down, and down, and—
"We should stop," she whispered without much conviction. Amanda had already untucked the front of her shirt from inside her pants, fingers gliding over the bare skin she'd liberated. The blonde's face was currently nuzzled into the deep V-neck Olivia had unwittingly (okay, maybe somewhat wittingly) created by leaving her top few buttons undone.
"Uh-uh." Amanda's voice and breath were muffled against Olivia's chest, wet and warm. "Don't wanna."
"You wanna end up on the evening news? 'Female SVU cops busted for sex in Victoria's Secret dressing room. Details at 11'?"
Amanda glanced up, giving it some thought. "Depends. Think they'd release our names?"
"You really want to find out?" Olivia rolled her eyes, but couldn't resist dotting a kiss to the tip of Amanda's nose. She gave the blonde's hips a light squeeze, gently guiding her back to a respectable distance. Or as respectable as one could be with her pert little breasts and pert little ass on generous display. God, and those abs. Her small, rosebud nipples were just visible inside the gossamer bra cups.
She looked good enough to eat. Peaches and sweet, decadent cream.
Dammit, Benson, focus.
"Ugh, fine." Amanda struck a sassy pose, hands on her narrow hips. If she'd been wearing heels and the thigh-highs meant to accompany those dangling garter straps, Olivia might not have contained herself quite so well. The bows were challenge enough. "Take a good look, then. Pro'ly the last time you'll see my broke ass in this overpriced doily."
"Oh, you're getting it." Olivia tucked her shirt back in and fluffed her hair in the mirror. She patted the purse that hung at her side, then caught Amanda's eye in the reflection over her shoulder. "And the black one. With the stockings."
Amanda cocked a suggestive eyebrow. "Fishnets or backseam?"
"Both." Olivia eased the dressing room door open and peeked out, making sure the coast was clear. "I'm going in. Watch my six," she said, only half serious.
"Always am, baby."
She swatted Amanda's hands away when they copped a feel from behind. Brat. "Last one to the checkout counter has to serve me breakfast in bed tomorrow, wearing only that."
After a quick glance back at her scantily clad girlfriend—scrumptious, indeed—Olivia slipped into the lounge area, grinning all the way out to the main floor when Amanda called, "Hey! No fair! Get back in here and take your clothes off too, woman."