Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.

Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.

A/N: Warning: explicit content in this chapter – and probably the next several after this – don't like:don't read (yeah right, like that's gonna happen ;o) LOL)

Alex's POV

I can't believe I actually said that to him. Who do I think I am, the heroine in a dumb book? I mean, 'Make love to me. Please, Bobby.' Not that my partner seems to object to my sudden slip into some weird alternative reality based on some stupid Hallmark Romance novel.

We're back in his bedroom and talking isn't really an option any more because our mouths are far too busy for such mundane pastimes as speech. God, he tastes good. I feel how I imagine a person would feel after three days in the desert without water and then there's a jug of ice-cold, crystal clear water in front of them. This is the first time I've kissed him since the first night we were together. How on earth could I have been so stubborn? The sensations caused by his lips and tongue as he explores my mouth are just as good as they were the last time, and so much better than in the dreams I've had of him during the last two months.

I want to touch his skin, so I slip one hand beneath the t-shirt he's wearing. I can feel his abdominal muscles quiver under my fingers as I run them across his stomach. Oh my God, he just growled into my mouth, do I really affect him that much. I don't think I've ever known a man to react like this to me before. His hands seem to be everywhere at once, sliding my clothes off of me, caressing my skin as he uncovers it, not only with is hands but with his lips and tongue.

Was that me? I don't whimper, I never allow myself to sound so desperate. Yes that is me, whimpering as I virtually tear the clothes off of him. My hands and mouth can't seem to get enough of touching and tasting his flesh. I'm vaguely aware of him lifting me and then his mouth is on mine again. The firm caress of his lips as he parts my own, then the strong stroke of his tongue as he twines it around mine. Jesus, is it possible to fall in love with a tongue because I think I have, I love the taste of it in my mouth, the feel of it on my skin. I'm sucking on his tongue and wrapping my own tongue around it and in some dark little corner of my mind I'm imagining what it would be like to do this to another part of his body. Another little corner of my brain is imagining what wonders his tongue could perform to another part of my own body. I know I'm becoming short of breath but I don't want to let go of his tongue, I don't want to part my lips from his, this feels too good.

I feel the bed beneath my back and his weight above me. His hardness is pressing against my thigh and I shift so that its tip brushes, lightly, against my centre. I feel a jerk go through his whole body as he literally rips his mouth from mine. He's panting and I'm gasping for breath, as he rests his forehead against mine. His eyes, stormy with passion, look into mine, look into my soul it seems to me. I know that at this moment in time there's nothing I can hide from him, that there's no longer anything I truly want to hide from him.

"Alex." His voice is unbelievably hoarse with emotion. I close my eyes to hide from what I see in his eyes and hear in his voice. "Alex, don't, baby, please don't shut me out."

My eyes flutter open again, as if he's taken control of my body, which to some extent is true. I think I would do anything he asked of me right now.

He kisses me, very softly, first on my cheek, then down along my jaw, working his way along until he reaches my lips once more and reclaims them. Feather-light kisses, barely making contact, and then his lips are moving again. Not on to a different area of my face this time but to form words again, all the time with his lips against my own and his eyes looking directly into mine.

"I love you, Alex. I have loved you, I think, since that first day in Deakins' office. I don't want anyone but you and I intend to show you exactly how you should be treated by a man. You are the most amazing woman I've ever met and I can't believe I've been so lucky as to be blessed with having you in my life. I am going to make love with you, Alex, and when we're finished I want to hold you in my arms and watch you sleep and know that I never have to let you go again."

My fingers weave through the hair at the nape of his neck. Holding him in place as I kiss him into silence, greedily, feverishly almost. My lips drinking him in, my tongue sliding inside and massaging his before it moves on to reclaim every inch his mouth within its reach.

I can't give this up again, I can't, I need this, somehow he has become as essential as breathing, as necessary as eating. I wonder if this is how it feels to be truly addicted to something. I have been known to say I'm addicted to coffee but I swear I could give up caffeine instantly compared to trying to go without the taste of him again for more than a few hours, at the moment I'm not sure I could even last a few seconds without him. I have to try though, just for a few seconds to free myself of this madness, this overwhelming need to taste him, because there's something I desperately need to say. I slowly withdraw myself from his mouth, another small whimpering sound escaping me as I finally move my lips from his.

"Bobby, I'm so sorry …" A look of confusion and fear instantly fills his eyes, as he pulls back slightly. I tighten my grip around his waist and neck. "… I'm sorry that I put you through this … these past months … I never should have done that. I love you, more than I've ever loved any man. I need you and I want you and I didn't know how to deal with that and still work beside you. I know now …"

Was there something else I was going to say, I can't seem to remember because he's kissing me again and I've lost my capacity for speech. His lips are demanding that I give myself to him totally and I'm not about to argue. My body seems to be ahead of my mind, arching up against his, breasts pushing into his chest and centre rubbing gently against his member. This is too much, I can feel myself pulsing with need, the need to have him inside me but he's making no move to thrust into me. In fact, he's letting go of my mouth and sliding down my body, kissing and caressing as he goes.

I can vaguely make out what he's mumbling as his mouth devours inch after gloriously tortured inch of my skin. He keeps repeating my name, telling me I taste good, that I'm beautiful, that he wants me, needs me, loves me and always will. There's the occasional 'Oh God', 'Jesus', even a 'fuck' or two thrown in amongst the pet-names which seem to be too many to count. Sometimes he slips into a foreign language. I'm sure his mind is going into overload, but mine is already there. How he can manage to form any sort of even semi-coherent speech is beyond me, simply because I can't. I'm lying here moaning with pleasure, unable to do anything beyond stroke at his shoulders and head as he moves downwards. I cry his name as he engulfs one taut breast with his mouth, his hand cupping and fondling the other. His tongue tormenting one nipple whilst his thumb tortures the other, feels amazing. When he switches sides I thrust up against his stomach and he bites down, gently, just enough pressure to draw a long, low moan from somewhere deep within me.

I'm riding the very edge of what I know is going to be an unbelievable orgasm. I can feel the heat coiling in my belly and my muscles quiver beneath his lips as he continues to work his way down my body.

"Oh God, yes." Rips from me as a scream, as his lips brush with unbelievable gentleness against my outer folds.

He holds my hips down with those wonderfully powerful hands of his as he opens me with his tongue. The sensations as his lips and tongue caress me are indescribable. Then I'm screaming his name and I love for him and an entreaty not to stop; crying out as my limbs and body go unbelievably taut and then seem to scatter to the four winds, as he shatters me into a million pieces.

A/N: Laptops getting pretty warm now – better go and get to work on Bobby's POV quickly. :o)