A/N: Ack, I haven't written anything in months, the muse has been of on sabbatical or something. So, this is basically PWP but it got the muse writing so I hope you like it, I'm a tad rusty.
It's the goddamn smirk that did her in.
All he had to do was look at her like that, his blue eyes shining with mischief and she has the hardest time firmly telling him no…especially since this whole idea of his seriously turns her on.
This explains why at 1:30 in the morning, when they should be at home in their apartment in bed, they are instead in the now empty squad room of the 1-6.
"Do you really think this is a good idea?" she asks trying to ignore the wolfish grin and sound more annoyed then she actually is.
He raises his eyebrows and leans into her, that smell that is so uniquely him wafting over her, "I think it's a great idea"
His tone is low, that deep vibrato making goose bumps explode onto her skin. He knows the effect he's having because he quickly leans into to peck her lips and then pulls back, "Do you know how many times I fantasized about this"
Biting her lip she wonders if it's as many times as she has. Entwining their fingers he pulls her into the interrogation room. As soon as he shuts the door, he has her pulled flush against him, his legs straddling the outsides of her own pushing her against the steel table.
"So Detective, how did you want to interrogate me"
Looking up at him she played with the zipper of his sweater. If she was going to get fired for this; she sure as hell was going to make it worth it. Smiling she starts to unzip the hoodie before pulling him closer to her, "Roughly"
She can feel his fingers dig into the flesh of her backside as he picks her up and places her on the cold metal surface. Her arms slide under his shirt, her nails scratching down his chest. A hiss escapes his lips, before he buries his face in the crook of her neck and scrapes his teeth down the sensitive skin.
"Fuck Liv" tumbles from his lips as his mouth trails along her jaw, before capturing her bottom lip between his teeth.
A strangled cry escapes her throat and dies on his tongue as he slides it in between her lips, tangling with her own. His kisses have always been possessive, consuming, like he was trying to steal her soul through her mouth.
Her hands roam freely over his muscular chest, fingers lost in the crevices and valleys of his torso, fingerprints imprinted with the topography of his body as his tangle in her hair.
He pulls back slightly as he disconnects from her, his cobalt eyes glazed over, a slight smirk lifting the corners of his mouth as he stares at her.
At first it made her uncomfortable, self conscious, to have his gaze locked on her, his eyes roving over her body, like he was slightly in awe of the fact she was really in front of him. Then she realized, that was exactly how she felt. There were mornings she woke before him, and she let her eyes memorize every line and angle of his face; still in disbelief they had come to this point in their lives.
Leaning in, he presses his lips against hers again, this time softer, deeper, exploring the caverns of her mouth until they are both breathless and panting. Leaning his forehead against hers he nudges her nose, "I confess detective" he teases.
A slight chuckle escapes her mouth as she pushes his shirt upwards, his naked skin glowing in the dimly lit room, "I'm going to need that confession in writing"
His hands cup her cheeks, tilting her head up to look into her eyes, "In blood"
It's the intensity that always threatens to steal her soul. She has always prided herself on being fiercely independent, strong on her own, but she needs him in a way that is contradictory to everything she once thought about herself.
He slides his strong hands down her neck, over her shoulders, trailing down her arms until he comes to the hem of her shirt. In one swoop it's discarded, and she can feel her nipples strain against the confines of her bra.
Thick fingers twist the clasp and she's revealed to him; naked in so many ways, vulnerable. His thumb swipes over her pebbled nubs and she feels a bolt of electricity course through her body. She was wet before, from the mere thought of this but now she can feel the juices pooling in between her thighs as his pink tongue darts out to lick his lips.
Grabbing the button on his jeans, she pops them open slowly, pushing them just down to his hips. His erection tents the black boxer shorts and she slides her hand down the waistband, fingers circling around his shaft.
His head falls back as he groans at the contact and she begins to pump him in a deliciously slow rhythm. There is a part of her that knows that this slow dance they do isn't exactly the safest idea for where they were at but she can't help but want to prolong the feeling as long as possible.
Her thumb slides over his head, his pre-cum wetting her finger as his breaths become harsher. She loves to watch him like this, to see all the rigidity leave his body and watch him come undone.
A growl roars from him and he grabs her wrist to stop her, "Stop" he says pulling her hand away from him, closing his eyes to slow his ragged breathing.
It's the way her eyes look up at him, under hooded lashes, her gaze filled with so much lust and love that he feels his insides clench and twist in a pleasurable sort of pain.
Grabbing her hips, he pulls her to the edge of the table, before swiftly unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them down to her ankles. His fingers dance back up her legs, sliding up her inner thighs, teasing up to where she aches for him most.
"You're wet" he teases, slowly running just his fingertip over her soaked panties.
"Nice detective skills" she teases, fighting the tremble coursing through her.
He laughs softly before rubbing harder, the material of her panties rubbing against her slickened folds. She can feel herself whimper as she arches up to him, needing to feel more, needing him to touch her.
Swiftly he pulls his hand away before roughly pulling her panties down around her ankles. His hardness is in his hand, pumping softly as he closes the slight distance between them, "Need you now" he grounds out as he slides against her, rubbing against her swollen center.
Slowly, almost painfully, he slides inside of her, connecting them before leaning in to rest his forehead against hers. He twitches as her velvet walls encase him perfectly, like two puzzle pieces that finally found the perfect fit.
The feeling makes his chest swell with pride as he begins to pull out and thrust back inside of her. She wishes she would have kicked off her jeans because she aches to wrap her legs around him and dig her heels into his skin.
Instead she wraps her arms around him, her nails tearing into his skin. There will be marks in the morning, proof of what had transpired and she knows that turns them both on in ways they don't say out loud because they would have admit they crave ownership of the other.
His palms roughly massage her breasts, his fingers rolling and twisting her nips as he slides in and out of her, their skins slapping together, her wetting staining both of them.
"Oh God El" she mutters as his skin tingles in anticipation.
Sliding his hands down her abdomen, he looks down, turned on by the way he shimmers in her moisture and his thumb comes to her clit, rubbing slowly.
Her ass bucks off the table, her head thrashing as he applies more pressure, needing to feel her walls tighten around him.
She whimpers and mews, and in an instant he watches the wave roll over her as all her muscles tighten and she begins to shake and convulse.
"Fuck, oh God" she cries out and he's done for.
Three more thrusts and he buries himself inside of her, his own orgasm colliding with hers as they trembled, their sweat slick skinned fused as one.
"I don't want to move" he teases playfully after a few long moments.
Looking at the clock she sighs, "We have to, this is dangerous enough"
"And worth it?"
Their eyes meet and she narrows hers at him before pushing him off and grabbing her discarded shirt. Putting herself together she let him dress silently before she turned back, "Maybe"
Swatting her ass he followed her out of the interrogation room. As they walked towards the exit he let himself look back one more time, a wide smile spreading across his face, after fourteen years of imagining it, fuck yes it was worth it.