A/N: Finally reuploading this story. Enjoy!


The feeling she was being watched was a familiar one.

Over the past three months, she had been analyzed, assessed, pushed to her limits. It went with the territory. Throughout it all, she had a good grip on her resolve. There were times her class fucked up, and he never let up. Never gave in. Never had mercy.

It was part of the training process. She knew that.

He was older. Older than she had ever let herself think that way about. At first, it was a fleeting thought during her first week. During her personal interview with him, her eyes drifted to the way his biceps pushed against the uniform material. She quickly looked away and saw a small nameplate on his desk that read Sergeant Elliot Stabler. When she had looked back up at him, his eyes were narrowed, dark. The blue that she was getting used to had suddenly been replaced by the color of temptation. Of need.

She turned twenty-three during her fourth week here. They say the one-month mark is when you break. The police academy wasn't meant to be easy. When everything culminates and catches up with you. When they push the hardest because they know you're at your breaking point.

On her birthday, covered in rain and muddy water, she was doing her third set of push-ups in that hour when he joined her in the prone position. Their class was exhausted, and one of her classmates had fallen asleep during a lesson. His voice boomed when he ordered them all outside when he realized the person was asleep. He cranked out the push-ups beside her as if he were limitless. No sign of slowing down.

Her arms began to shake from exertion when he whispered to her, "Happy birthday, Benson."

She nearly dropped her body to the ground.

His eyes always fell on her. Her eyes would always drift to his. She would push the thoughts away, not let herself think about him in that capacity. Her female classmates would speak about him candidly in private and it didn't help the thoughts already spinning in her mind.

Sergeant Stabler…

The images in her mind were intrusive. The day was nearly done and she needed to go upstairs, go back to her room and fix her problem. She knew it wouldn't be enough for her. Just enough to prevent her from going insane. It had been weeks since she had felt her body crashing over that edge, months since it had been at the hands of someone else.

Tonight, she needed someone else.

Him.

"24," he addressed the class by their number. "If anyone wants extra practice on the range, see me after this." His eyes found hers again. She pressed her legs together tightly under the desk and the corners of his mouth rose into a smug smirk.

Olivia was proficient with her firearm, having spent the last three months stripping it and cleaning it every night. It felt natural in her hand. It felt good. She wanted all the practice she could get – and a moment alone with Sergeant Stabler.

He finished their nightly orders and warned that he was staying the night at the academy since he was the duty patrol sergeant. In his deep voice, he explained that the class should be on their best behavior and he would be checking that everyone was in bed at the prescribed time with their doors locked. "If I try to open the door and it's unlocked," he said sternly. "I will take all of your kits while you sleep."


"Keep up with me, Benson," he ordered. She pushed her long legs to do as she was told, walking fast behind him. They weaved through the hallways, down two flights of stairs until they reached the doors of the range.

He unlocked the door and turned on the lights inside and she stepped quietly inside behind him, her blood pulsing in her veins. She was the only one who actually wanted to go back to the range, the rest of the class that had wanted extra help decided to stay in the classroom and strip their weapons again. They all gave her the same look on the way out.

One on one with Sergeant Stabler. Good luck with that.

Elliot spun around to look at her. He stepped closer, poising his hands on his duty belt. "What do you need help with, Benson?" Her mouth dropped open slightly at his proximity to her.

"My positioning," she mumbled, her eyes dropping to his mouth. He sighed and turned on his heel, walking to the first stall and pointing for her to stand in front of him. She walked over and took her position, drawing her rubber weapon up and pointing it downrange.

A shiver ran up her spine while he stayed silent at her back, just watching her. "It's your hips," he murmured behind her. "Do you mind if I touch you?"

You have no idea how badly I want you to…

She nodded her consent silently and tried to focus her attention downrange when his large hands palmed her waist and shifted her hips. "Your hips are too tight," he was closer to her now, his breath warm against her neck. Her long dark hair was tucked into a neat bun at the back of her head and she couldn't use her hair to hide the heat that was rising over the collar of her uniform. His hands tightened on her hips and she faltered, dropping her elbow but quickly recovered and raised it again. "Is something wrong?" he rumbled in her ear.

"No," she breathed. Her voice came out too husky for her own liking. His right hand left her hip and steadied her elbow. His lips moved just under her ear.

"Bang," he whispered. "Is there anything else you need help with?"

Fuck yes.

Olivia lowered her rubber weapon and replaced it in its holster. His hands fell away from her hips and she groaned, the need pounding between her legs now. "There is actually," she spoke fast before she lost her nerve. "The wrist lock when handcuffing," she turned around to face him.

"Come," he nodded towards a door at the end of the range. She followed him, her fingertips growing clammy with anticipation.

Elliot unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter first. It was a range supply closet; no windows, only a single light flickering above them. A table sat squarely in the middle of the room with a few empty buckets for picking up casings. The room smelled of lead and gun powder. He closed the door behind them and reached for her belt, pulling her handcuffs from their holster.

"Take off your duty belt." His voice was rough, grated. She felt a throbbing between her legs so intense that her hands trembled as she unclipped the belt and gently placed it on the floor to their left. "You're still okay with me touching you?" His breath was on her ear again and she bit her lip, holding back a moan.

"Yes," she responded thickly. Her body was responding too well, too fast. The academy had taken away that time she needed for herself to relieve that pressure. There was only the rigid schedule that she and all of her classmates knew. No time for anything in between.

Until now.

The cold metal slung around her right wrist first. "Like this," he instructed, pushing into her shoulder hard until her torso was draped over the metal table in front of her. He grabbed her left wrist and twisted her arm back into the second cuff behind her back. Olivia whimpered and arched her back, pushing her hips back into him. His hard cock rubbed against her ass, ripping a low growl from Elliot's throat.

Olivia turned her head to the side and scraped her teeth over her bottom lip as he looked at her. "Benson," he grunted in a warning tone. His dick moved between her legs, seating himself against her heated core. "You're playing with fire," he folds himself over her, allowing his weight to drape over her back.

"Good."


It was nearly midnight when he decided to check on the class.

They should have all been asleep an hour ago. No lights should be on. Doors locked. The females and males were separated into two wings. The females had individual rooms with a simple bed, desk, and closet. Bathrooms were shared, one at each end of the hallway of their residences.

He rode the elevator this time of night. During the day he might take the stairs just to prove to the class that fitness is important and even as an instructor, it was vital. At night he needed to be quiet if he was going to catch anyone out of bed.

Elliot leaned on the wall of the elevator and scrubbed a hand down his face. His dick was still impossibly hard – if it didn't quit soon he would have to disappear into a bathroom to finally give in to the ache.

It had four hours since she was pressing her delectable ass back into him. The little moans that came from her when he ground his cock into her would haunt him. He was going to hell for wanting her. For needing her.

She was 23. He was 40.

It didn't stop them from pushing the boundaries. There were no lines left. They hadn't just crossed them, they had taken a running leap over them in a race to see who would break first. Who would admit that they needed the other. Who would beg for it. The corners of his mouth began to turn up. He planned on making her beg for him to fuck her.

The elevator doors opened and he silently moved toward the first wing. The women's wing. The rooms went in alphabetical order, hers was the second one in the group of rooms. He listened for any sound at the entrance door and heard nothing. All the lights were off.

A good sign.

He tried the first door, Abbott. Locked. No light coming from underneath the door. His boots made no sound as he moved to Benson's door. His fingers reached the doorknob when he heard something.

"Elliot…" He heard from the other side. Just when he thought it was all in his head, she said it again. His heart pounded loudly in his ears. He needed to go into her room. She couldn't get away with fucking herself at the thought of him. He had to be between her legs with his mouth, his dick, his fingers. He needed to be the one truly making her come for him.

Elliot closed his eyes and balled his hands into fists. He wondered what she looked like, was she naked? Was she in her pt shorts, her hand well below the waistband touching herself? If he knocked, he would wake up the others. If he fucked her, he would wake up everyone on the floor.

His cock harder than ever, he turned away from the door and walked out to the main hallway.

Tomorrow he would punish her.

A/N: Let me know what you think!