Author's Note: I'm not even sure where to start with this a/n. That long fic you've heard me blathering about on Twitter and dropping hints for in the Little Devils for the past year? Yeah, this is it. Took me thirteen and a half months to write it, but it's finally finished. All 200k+ words (40 chapters) of it. Officially the longest thing I've ever written. I'm so excited, I'm so excited! I'm so... scared! *sobs in Jessie Spano* Ok, but seriously...

Here's what you need to know: Third installment of the Devilishverse trilogy (The Devil You Know & Idle Hands). Takes place in the winter after Idle Hands and after most of the Little Devils (everything I've posted from February onward is set at the end of or after this story). So if you're reading and say to yourself, "Self, I do believe she already used that in one of the Little Devils," just know that it was almost certainly written here first. Also, if you're expecting the lighthearted fare found in most of those stories, you're going to be disappointed. This one's extremely angsty, kids. Ex. Treme. Ly. It's more in the vein of TDYK & IH, although not quite as action based (though there's some of that, too). I'd categorize it as a psychological drama. Lots of exploration about what makes these characters tick and how they would handle a romantic relationship. That said, this prologue is pure, unadulterated smut. Keep in mind that it was only the second full-on sex scene I'd ever written for them at the time, sweet summer child that I was. There are, I think, three-ish more smutty scenes woven throughout the story after this, most of them in some of the later chapters, FYI. Also expect some hurt/comfort and some major conflict. Quite a bit of both, actually.

Trigger Warnings: None of these apply to this chapter, but I'm going to put them here so no one gets blindsided later. ! ! ! Past child abuse & sexual abuse of a minor, domestic violence, referenced rape, dubious consent, referenced suicide attempt, addiction ! ! ! I will add them to the appropriate chapters as I post, as well.

Also: I'm breaking this fic into four parts because it's damn long and, well, because I want to. It gave me an excuse to make five separate covers (one overall cover & one for each part), which of course this site won't let me post all of—I highly recommend checking them out on my DeviantArt page (crystallinejen) or on AO3 (chief_johnson) as they're posted, b/c they're fucking awesome. A million thank yous to my beta Amy for the all-nighters, the suggestions & research, and for witnessing my slow descent into madness as I worked on this story, without having me committed. And thank you to Warren Leight for his brief participation as a consultant, however unwitting. Oh, AND. See if you can spot the little surprise in this chapter. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but a few lowly original characters. Don't sue me, just hire me to write for your show pls.

PART I: THE ANGEL'S SHARE

. . .

PROLOGUE: Needs Must

Somehow, cherry-flavored lube never quite captured the essence of real cherries. The satisfaction of plucking fruit from stem, gathering the sumptuous dollop into your mouth, popping it between your teeth to release that burst of juicy sweetness. It was an experience not replicable in liquid form—and yet, Amanda could not stop licking the stuff off her fingers, wrist, and most of her forearm.

"Shall I leave you two alone?" Olivia asked wryly, as she watched Amanda lapping at her own arm, practically right down to the elbow, complete with loud slurping noises. She glanced to her naked body, which had been subjected to much the same treatment until the lube and the dildo arrived on the scene, and back up at Amanda expectantly.

Amanda slowed the hand she was rubbing along the textured shaft, moistening the brightly colored silicone at a tantalizing speed. Magenta was about the least sexy and least natural shade of pink for a phallus like the one she was holding, but she and Olivia had both given the toy their enthusiastic stamps of approval since its purchase several weeks earlier. (It had been Amanda who happened across the website, Olivia who sauntered up behind her, peered over her shoulder, and clicked Add to Cart.) And judging by Olivia's current expression—not to mention her damp thighs, rubbing against Amanda with increasing need, and her erect nipples, a delicious cinnamon brown that begged to be tasted once again—she was more than ready to get their money's worth for the fourth or fifth time in as many weeks.

Not to say they hadn't relied on other methods along the way. Amanda was quite pleased to discover that Olivia's sexual appetite could be just as voracious as her own. Like this morning, when she awoke to sounds of the other woman moaning in her sleep, apparently having one hell of a wet dream. Amanda was usually the one to wake up horny, so it was a nice little surprise when Olivia had rolled over, pinned her shoulders to the mattress, and kissed her senseless in lieu of a simple good morning.

"Oh, you're not going anywhere, Cap'n," she said now, in a sultry tone with a tinge of Georgia sass. She had it on good authority that her accent, though not nearly as pronounced as it was ten years ago, tickled more than just her captain's eardrums. Whenever she wanted to get her way, in the bedroom or outside of it, all she had to do was lay the drawl on extra thick, and Olivia became darn near compliant. Of course, Amanda only ever used her Southern charms for good, not evil.

Well, mostly.

Stroking the smooth, rounded head of the dildo a few more times than necessary, she grinned as a feral growl escaped Olivia's throat. Someone was mighty impatient today, it seemed. "Which end you want?" she asked, drawing the torture out just a teensy bit longer. She knew full well which side of the dual vibrator Olivia preferred, and it wasn't the smaller probe meant to stimulate the G-spot—even though that side afforded the most control. No, tough and assertive as she was, Captain Benson liked to be fucked. Hard.

It had taken close to a year for that revelation to make itself known. Up until then, Amanda had treated the woman with kid gloves, afraid of triggering the flashbacks that still haunted Olivia on occasion. She'd assumed Olivia's difficulty in reaching climax stemmed from those past traumas—and an inability to surrender herself completely—but after an especially vigorous bout of roleplay (she was the savvy private eye, Olivia the femme fatale who showed up one stormy night in a trench coat . . . and nothing else), she discovered that sometimes her captain just needed a little more oomph.

More often than not, they still made love, slow and sensual and achingly tender. Bodies trembling, skin on fire, mouths and senses so filled with each other, separation felt like its own kind of death. It was the closest Amanda had ever come to drowning, and she would gladly let the waves overtake her a thousand times more— and smile doing it. But she was also glad to pound Olivia till she screamed, hips bucking against her and nails clawing at her back, if that's what it took. And judging by the glint in those ravenous brown eyes, that was precisely what Olivia had in mind.

"Don't make me beg, 'Manda." A note of pleading could be heard in the captain's voice, even as she made the request. Even as she slid a hand down the soft plain of her belly, over the small thatch of dark pubic hair, and between her parted thighs, fingertips massaging her swollen clit. She moaned softly, eyelashes fluttering closed.

"Oh," Amanda sighed, momentarily forgetting where she was, as she watched Olivia touching herself. She had never gotten off on seeing a partner masturbate; at least not until the first time she witnessed Olivia taking matters into her own hands after growing impatient with too much foreplay. It was one of the most erotic moments of Amanda's life, all defenses stripped away and just that raw desire—which she helped create—flowing off Olivia like a rich, heady perfume. And here it was again.

The throbbing in Amanda's groin and the heat that pooled there brought her back to reality, and she guided the shorter curved end of the sex toy towards herself. It slid inside easily, the artificial lubricant almost unnecessary in light of what her body had naturally produced. She gave a small, contemplative hum when she reached the hilt, which boasted a textured pad for the wearer to grind against during thrusts. Olivia opened her eyes at the sound, gaze flitting downwards for a moment, her irises so dark they looked black in the dim bedroom lighting. She angled her pelvis subtly in Amanda's direction, practically purring with anticipation. "Please," she rasped, still managing to sound like she was giving an order, despite the entreaty.

That was fine with Amanda. When it came to her captain, that's exactly what she aimed to do—please.

"Mm, so polite." She reached for Olivia's hand, easing it away from its lazy rotation, and bringing the glistening fingertips to her lips. One at a time, she placed a finger in her mouth and sucked it clean, root to tip. She'd always rolled her eyes at men who claimed to like the way their partner tasted—those fellas had watched way too much porn—but that was before she'd tasted Olivia. Her favorite flavor, and the one that never failed to make her mouth water, no matter how often she indulged.

"And so sweet," she murmured, teasing Olivia with the cock-shaped end of the vibrator until she whimpered ("'Manda . . .") and tried to bear down on the head, grasping Amanda by the hips to hold her steady. After a few more excruciatingly long strokes, Amanda entered her a little at a time, allowing Olivia to set the pace by rocking to meet each gentle thrust.

"My sweet girl." She leaned down to kiss the delicate cleft between Olivia's knitted brows—her captain was always so serious—then blew out a shaky breath when a pair of soft, warm hands wandered up to squeeze her breasts. Her nipples were already standing at attention, only a few shades of pink lighter than the dildo and pulsing almost as vibrantly as her clit, and she felt every stroke of Olivia's thumbs, every devilish tweak, all the way down to her toes. She jerked her hips, grinning just as devilishly at the sharp gasp it elicited from below.

Olivia bit her bottom lip, a slightly pained expression crossing her pretty features, like a thundercloud on a clear blue day. But when her eyes opened, dark and flashing, she had become the storm. She squeezed Amanda's breasts a bit more cruelly and commanded, "Fuck. Again."

There were many fine balances Olivia kept so well she made it look easy: tough cop and loving mother, respected leader and trusted friend, hardass and soft touch. Somewhere along the way, she'd also learned to walk the line between pleasure and pain so skillfully, Amanda sometimes couldn't tell the difference. Nor did she care to—not when it felt so fucking good either way. "On?" she asked, finger already at the discreet power switch located underneath the vibrator.

"Yes." Olivia nodded adamantly, her thighs tensing around Amanda as she waited for the toy to buzz to life. The pulse it delivered was identical on both sides and had taken some getting used to, for Olivia more so than Amanda. A joke about who had the bigger vibrator collection got bandied around a few times after that, but Amanda didn't mind claiming to be an old hand at battery-operated self-love. She liked that Olivia was a bit more sensitive, a bit less experienced in certain ways. If nothing else, it gave Amanda the illusion of being the alpha female in the relationship—at least, for a very short while. Her captain learned damn fast.

Hissing approval, Olivia arched her body towards the vibrations when they began. Her breasts swayed enticingly with the movement, fuller now that she was back to a healthy weight, appetite restored. God, she had great tits. Still firm and naturally plump at fifty-two. Amanda had the urge to skim her tongue over every inch of that smooth, freckled skin, to apply her teeth and kisses to the taut nipples, to bury her face in the gentle swells and not come up for air, maybe ever. But her mouth was soon occupied with Olivia's, when the woman pulled her down for a passionate kiss that she also hoped would never end.

As their tongues struggled for dominance, Amanda started to rock slowly, rhythmically, driving the cock deeper. Olivia's kisses, at first direct and unyielding, became progressively sloppy with every hitch. Finally, Amanda won the battle, soothing Olivia's captured tongue with her own. But the victory didn't last long—Olivia gripped her ass in both hands, jerking her forward several times to a much brisker tempo.

"Jeez—" Amanda gulped down the remaining "-us!" of her surprised oath, briefly rendered speechless by the stimulation both inside and out. Her eyes had rolled back in her head for a minute there, she was pretty sure. Panting, she rested her forehead against Olivia's, pale hair mingling with darker chocolaty strands. "I don't wanna hurt ya, darlin' . . ."

"Does it look like I'm hurt?" Olivia asked breathlessly, giving another quick jerk and rolling her hips to meet it. Her entire body was flushed, eyes heavy-lidded and midnight dark as she gazed up from the pillow, head tipped back and lips sensually parted.

Nope. It did not look that way at all.

Unable to pry her gaze from the elegant curve of Olivia's neck, Amanda dipped down to press several heated kisses along its length. Though tempted, she refrained from sucking or biting; Olivia thought hickeys were tacky-looking, and Amanda's ass would be in a sling, rather than those strong, capable hands, if she left any behind. That didn't stop her from nibbling at a dainty bit of earlobe when she reached it, whispering, "Turn over, then. All fours."

Olivia swallowed hard, the flicker of apprehension on her face almost imperceptible, at least to an untrained eye. But Amanda had been there through the months of recovery, through the night terrors and subsequent crying jags, through the tentative first touches, to the no holds barred intimacy they presently shared. After being bound to a table and groped by her rapist—then subjected to much the same by the young girl she'd tried to rescue—Olivia had developed strong reservations to being approached from behind, sexually or otherwise. It had taken a while for Amanda to even graduate from "little spoon" to "big spoon." Now, she could walk up behind Olivia and wrap her in a bear hug, straddle her waist for a back rub, or yes, occasionally pleasure her from that position. It would be the first time they had tried with the toy, though. If they tried.

"Or we can stay like this," she said gently, smoothing the hair back from Olivia's forehead. She did the same by her ear, dotting kisses to the shell-like helix. (Even that part of her was pretty.) "It's okay if you don't want—"

"I want to." Olivia turned her head and kissed Amanda lightly on the tip of the nose. Then she reached down to slide out the dildo, delicate lines creasing her forehead, tummy sucked in. She smiled when Amanda folded her lips together tightly, the vibration and the wiggling almost too much to withstand.

Add to that the sight of Olivia, as lovely as any of the reclining nudes Amanda had studied in Art History—far lovelier, in fact—rising from among the pillows and rumpled sheets, gathering the mussed waves of her dark lavender-scented hair over one shoulder, and tucking both long, shapely legs beneath her, and it was like watching one of those paintings come to life. Olivia Benson: a living, breathing masterpiece.

She cast an uncertain look back at Amanda, who was settling onto her knees, the vibrator switched off until they were ready. Amanda left a trail of soft kisses along her bare shoulder, nuzzled into her sweet, warm neck, and implored, "Trust me, baby?"

"Yes."

"We can stop anytime."

"I know."

Once they got started, they didn't stop. Their slow and cautious movements—as they both made sure the other was comfortable enough to proceed—quickly gave way to a steady, energetic cadence that rattled the headboard. Vaguely, thoughts clouded by the lust that consumed her mind and body, Amanda regretted not being able to watch Olivia's face as she rode her. But the position did have its charms, allowing Amanda better access, more control of the dildo, and Olivia's firm backside grinding into her pelvis certainly didn't hurt. It created a deep and elusive friction that she strived towards, every muscle in her body clenching harder with each thrust, until she was poised on the edge, like a roller coaster about to drop.

She tried to breathe through it, not wanting to finish too early; although, given Olivia's labored breathing and lengthy moans, she wasn't far behind. There was this noise the captain made when she was about to come—part whimper, part sigh of relinquishment—but Amanda hadn't heard it yet. Not that she could hear much, for the blood raging in her ears.

"Fas—" Olivia gasped, flicking her hair aside to glance back over her shoulder. Her eyes glittered like onyx. "—ter."

She licked her lips and let her head loll forward when Amanda obeyed, making them both grunt softly. Amanda took her by the hips, steadying herself as she drove in and out. Sometimes all it took to send her hurtling towards orgasm was a provocative image at just the right moment, and on this particular occasion, it was the sight of Olivia's flesh—all those magical, delectable curves—dimpling beneath her fingertips. And then that sound, the one that meant she'd brought Olivia to the brink of climax. The one reserved for Amanda only.

She gave in with a sharp cry, as if she'd been struck, and barely noticed Olivia reaching around to grab her hand, pulling. For a few seconds, sheer bliss—like a hot shot of pleasure injected straight to the vein. It ended far too soon, but the pressure began to build once again when she realized what her hand was being used for. Olivia had placed two of the fingers against her clit, rubbing them to coax out her own orgasm. Amanda took charge, circling the delicate spot the way she knew Olivia liked. She couldn't resist adding her own little flourish, which involved dragging her fingers back and forth, with just the right amount of . . .

"Oh my—" Olivia pushed firmly at the back of Amanda's hand, then gripped her wrist tight. "Fuck, do that—"

Amanda did it again, harder and faster, the dildo working at the same pace. It was a damn good thing she was coordinated. And physically fit. Olivia showed her appreciation for both as well, a powerful shudder rippling down her spine and the sounds of ecstasy pouring from her lips. She reached back and clutched at Amanda's thigh, fingernails biting in deep. The sharp jabs were like a jolt of electricity to every erogenous zone Amanda knew of—and then some.

She came a second time, aware of nothing but the woman she was wrapped around, literally and figuratively. Her piquant scent, her sweat-slick skin with its lovely golden undertones, her throaty voice that itself was pure sex. Miles and miles of Olivia, disappearing into the horizon. Amanda followed as far and as long as she could, her dazzled senses finally hitting their limit when Olivia, after one last tremor, sagged beneath her, panting heavily.

"Mm, off," Olivia said, fumbling for the switch nestled somewhere between them. She expelled a short little huff, sounding mildly offended when Amanda clicked the power button and carefully slid the dildo out. But she gave a warm hum of approval to the kisses Amanda peppered over her back and shoulders, and repaid the kindness with an even warmer kiss on the lips as they collapsed alongside each other on the pillows.

They made out for several minutes more, basking in the afterglow of what just might have been the best sex of Amanda's entire life. She still hadn't caught her breath completely by the time Olivia snuggled into her arms, sighing deeply against her chest.

"I think I just had a religious experience," Amanda husked, chafing lightly at Olivia's skin with shaky hands. "Jesus, babe, how many times did you come?"

Olivia snorted at the question, but peered up with a wicked grin and displayed three fingers. She twitched them back and forth, taunting.

"Seriously? I only got two!" Amanda gave Olivia's shoulder a weak nudge. "Okay, lie back, we gotta go again."

"Slow your roll there, pal," Olivia said with a laugh, returning the nudge as if she were fending off the advances. Neither of them had moved an inch, all tangled limbs and limp, sated bodies. "This isn't the Orgasm Olympics."

Amanda scoffed and dropped a kiss on top of Olivia's head. "Have you met me?" she asked, muffled by the soft brown hair her lips were buried in. "I always go for the gold."

"Well, I'm afraid you'll have to settle for the silver this time, my love." Olivia's voice sounded hazy, and when she patted Amanda on the chest, her hand went lax, loosely cupping one boob. She was fading fast. "If you want your fiancée to be able to walk straight . . ."

The rest was incoherent as Amanda scratched lightly at Olivia's back. Never failed to put her captain—her fiancée, as Olivia liked to remind her on a daily basis, as if she could forget—right to sleep. "Hate to break it to you, darlin', but there's nothing straight 'bout what we just did," Amanda murmured, grinning to herself.

Five minutes later, after easing out of bed to grab a snack, Amanda was halfway to the kitchen when a sleepy voice called out, "Sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

"Bring the Oreos."

. . .