Author's Note - I've decided that one chapter is not enough to warrant changing this entire story's rating, so I'm including this warning instead - The next chapter, Ch. 13, may be unsuitable for younger readers - It's hardly pornographic, but it would probably be a solid R (or M) rating. It's only one chapter, so if you're easily offended, just skip it. It's not totally gratutitous, but you can probably follow the story without it.
On a personal note, thank you so much for all the reviews! It's really encouraging to get so many high-quality reviews that obviously had some time and thought put into them.
She fought it, beating against the inside of her skin like a bird in a window, but it was no use; her body would not obey. She watched in a kind of morbid fascination as her hands wound themselves into his hair. It was like the first crime scene she and Bobby worked together, the body of a rich banker, Gerald Nelson, discovered in one of the wilder parts of Central Park. He'd been dead for almost two weeks, and the animals had been at him. She still remembered the exact color of his flesh, the way the insects squirmed inside the chest cavity, the pale cherry blossoms collected in the slit that ran from ear to ear across his throat. Part of her wanted to be sick, to turn away and pretend that such horrors were the stuff of nightmares, but the cop in her, the detective, couldn't look away.
The incubus drew them together, each breath from his lips a feather-light kiss on the V of skin beneath her throat that the coat didn't cover. His large, strong hands fumbled at her belt and she felt the material loosening, sliding apart. She could hear her own voice, scared, small, screaming inside her, 'No, please don't - Stop!', but she bit her tongue to keep silent.
His breath warmed the tops of her breasts as the coat fell open, then slithered off her shoulders to pool around her feet. She shivered, and prayed that he wouldn't notice. Not likely. Bobby noticed everything.
When Bobby had squatted next to the corpse of Mr. Nelson, he pointed out the different bite patterns; dog, fox, rat, crow, noted the pale band of skin on the left hand denoting a missing wedding ring, detected the faint odor of French perfume on the suit jacket.
This wasn't a crime scene, though. Would he notice the scent of her lavender body lotion? The color of her pale blue bra and panties? The soft curves that she hadn't quite managed to work off since her pregnancy? Probably not. His eyes were closed.
Alex stared down at her partner's head, her hands still mindlessly combing through his dark, not quiet graying hair. It was very soft. Was that natural, or did he use conditioner? Natural, she decided. He wouldn't have wasted time on superfluous hair products.
She gasped as his hands found the clasp of her bra. It was the sudden jolt of coming back from her wandering thoughts that surprised her, not what he was doing, but he didn't know that.
"I'm sorry, Eames," he said, his whole body trembling. "It's too strong, I can't - I can't fight it much longer."
"Then stop fighting. Let's just get this over with." The words were barely said before she regretted saying them. They hung heavy in the quiet, echoing in each pained breath he took. "Look, Bobby, I - "
"No, you're right, Eames," he said, and she winced at the crisp edge in his voice. "Why fight the inevitable? I'm sure you've got better things to do."
He stopped fighting.
Disclaimer - Law and Order: CI and SVU, and the characters protrayed therin, are the property of Dick Wolf and Assoc., but Detective Sledge is all mine, Mwa ha ha ha! Er, ahem ... please don't sue.