My girls introduced me to Bruno Mars, Talking to the Moon, and I absolutely loved it, and then this idea slipped into my brain and I haven't been able to shake it. The last thing I want is another unending story, but I already have chapter 2 going so we shall see. I hope you enjoy. If you wish to see more, please let me know. Thanks to all!
Dick Wolf's, not mine.
Trigger warnings, possible spoilers. Read with caution.
Mature rating for safety, just because it's me.
Talking to the Moon / Trying to get to you / In hopes you're on the other side
Talking to me too / Or am I a fool who sits alone / Talking to the Moon?
Talking to the Moon
The sound of her heels clicking on the floor caused him to look up from his computer. The vision before him dried the spit in his mouth, causing his tongue to stick to the roof of it. Her dress was black, as they tended to be lately. It was modestly cut, showcasing her the tops of her breasts and her naked shoulders while following the curve of her waist and thighs to flare at her knees in a flirty little frill. The sandals, God the sandals, had him imaging bending her over his desk, stripping that dress away, and following the length of those gorgeous legs from heel to groin and learning the taste of them and everything in between. He shook his head, trying to dispel those thoughts. This was Olivia and not someone he should be thinking about this way. But, damn this woman had a way about her, and she was just so damn supple with curves made for a man's hands. His hands itched with the need to pull her in. Rubbing them on his thighs he asked, "Where are you off to tonight?"
She smiled as she moved beside him, resting a hip on his desk as she leaned over to adjust the strap of her sandal. "Wicked. I can hardly wait."
His breath caught in his throat as her breasts threatened to spill out of her bodice. The itch in his hands was grew stronger. "Wicked…really…"
She shifted, twisting slightly, trying to get the strap just right. "Yes." She nodded her head, biting her lip. "There. Perfect." She said as she sat up.
Her breasts bounced with the movement. He gulped, his hands flexing with the need to touch. He glanced up and away in an effort at control, his mind lingering on the fact that it was dark in the precinct, and they were the only two there. Unable to help himself, he stood, hands finding a place on her hips, fingers flexing into the supple skin. Without conscious thought, he lifted her, centering her firmly on his desk and stepping quickly between her thighs, nudging them further apart as he stepped between them. "Yes, you are."
Gasping, she looked up at him, her hands curling around his wrists. Her eyes locked with his, frozen with the intensity she read there. "El?"
The heat of her, the very light of her drew him like a moth to a flame. His mouth dropped, capturing hers. Of their own volition, his hands moved from her waist to her cheeks, gently holding her to him. His tongue swirled over her lower lip, testing the seam, groaning in encouragement as she let him in, melted into him.
Releasing his wrists, she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him closer, legs curling around his. It was all he needed for acceptance, he pushed his thigh forward, and the delicate material of her skirt tore, allowing him even more access. He pressed closer, nudging her heat.
A low rumble of sound echoed around them, followed by gusts of wind. Opening his eyes, he looked around. The precinct was gone. She was standing in his embrace, her eyes round with fear. Her fingers dug into his back as storm clouds coalesced around them. Lightening flickered through the darkness surrounding them, highlighting a figure. It reached for her, flames springing from its fingertips. It latched onto her, sinking into her hair, her dress, setting the garment aflame.
She screamed, high pitched and blood curdling. "Help me, El!"
He tried to turn, to pull her away, but he could not. His arms dropped from her, allowing the nightmarish creature to pull her away. Frozen, unable to move, he watched as the creature drew her to it.
The flames irradicated her clothing, her skin bubbled and burned as those fire tipped hands swept over her breasts and belly. She screamed again, the pain turning her a ghostly shade of pale. Sobs ripped from her throat. "It hurts…please El? Please?"
Rage surged through him. "Let her go!" He screamed, but the creature just laughed at both their pain.
"She's mine now. She'll always be one of my girls." Flame-soaked hands slid over the curve of her hip, her thigh, tender skin charring in its wake.
He struggled against his own inability to move. "Fight Liv! Fight."
As she struggled, sadistic masculine laughter echoed around them. "She's mine now and there is nothing you can do about it. You left her for me."
Her eyes met his, terror shining bright as the creature pulled her further into the darkness until she disappeared. "Olivia! No! Olivia!"
His eyes snapped open, breath ragged, throat hoarse with screams. He stumbled from the bed, fighting the sheets that insisted on tangling around his legs as he tried to get his bearings. His hands swiped over his face, scrubbed his scalp. "Jesus!" He had dreamed of her many times, more it seemed since he had left her, than he had in the 13 years they had been partners. Rubbing his hands over his face once more, he took several deep breaths. He had dreamed of her. He had dreamed of making love to her, wishing he had acted a hundred different times. The dreaming was so much worse because he denied himself any talk, any reminder of her when he was awake, otherwise, he could not stand the fact that she was no longer a physical presence in his life. But this dream, this one was the worst he had ever had. This one terrified him, and he desperately wanted to call her, call anyone who knew her, just to make sure she was okay. He took another deep breath, then another, trying to push away the nausea that rolled through his belly. Striding out of the bedroom, he headed through the living area and onto the little patio that overlooked the piazza. He stared up at the night sky, grateful for his solitude because Kathy and Eli had gone on a holiday with friends. Screaming Olivia's name would have been justification for a fight, another round of accusations. For a long moment, he stared up at the moon. The moon was as constant as she had been, and he let the light of it absorb into him. It soothed him as nothing else had since he left. Many times over the last two years he would come out, stare up at it and wonder, briefly, if she were there, under the same moon wondering about him. Part of him really hoped she did, and part of him hoped she had let him go, that she didn't miss him as much as he did her. Closing his eyes briefly, he turned his face into the warm May breeze. Unable to shake his unease, sought out the moon again and offered a prayer for her safety. After another moment, he glanced down at his watch. 5:13 am. It would be just after midnight in New York. As he came back in to make a cup of coffee, he noted the calendar. Tuesday, May 21st… two years…734 days since he had last seen her face…