AN: Rape scene ahoy. Scene as in "BDSM scene". You know the drill by now if you've gotten this far in the story. Degrading speech and some pretty rough handling, but no cock this time.

. . .

Chapter Seventeen:

Alex rummages through her purse with a shaking hand, staring despondently at the golden nameplate on her door instead of looking down at what she's doing. Her expression remains blank, but I know something is seriously wrong when she almost drops her keys. After a few tries, she fits them to the lock, but she turns them the wrong way at first. I stop her, cupping my hand over hers to halt the trembling. "Let me."

Her arm falls, and she looks up at me with such a pleading, broken expression that I know she won't make it through the night unless something changes. Alex has a love affair with words, but at a certain point, she stops hearing them. She shuts down and closes her ears, and there's only way left to communicate with her. The hunger of skin, spiced with a little pain to take the edge off the pressure, is all she understands. I guide her into the office with a gentle touch at the small of her back, and once she's safely inside, I kick the door shut behind us and reach back to flick the lock in place.

"Liv…"

I'm on her immediately, crushing her lips with mine. If anyone else had known, had witnessed what we were doing, they might have thought I was crazy. Who would want to fuck in a situation like this? And to be honest, part of me doesn't want to at all. A corner of my brain is still with Sam, lingering at the edge of life somewhere in that miserable hospital. But I know Alex. I know her so well that her feelings bleed over into mine, that the smallest hints of her body language read like screams. This is what she needs, and for her, I'll do anything.

"Liv, no..." She stiffens, tries to rip away from me, but I hold her tighter, raking my fingers through the wisps of hair at the back of her neck. She isn't really saying no. If she didn't want this, she wouldn't fight me. She would put a soft hand on my chest instead and push me away. Maybe her voice would waver a little when she gave her safe word, but it would come out clearly. The one thing she wouldn't say is 'No', a word she's specifically told me to ignore. For her, that's as good as a 'please take me'.

I bite her lip to silence her, digging the edges of my teeth into it until I feel a deep shudder ripple along her body. She knows she needs this, too. She just doesn't want to need it. I let go with a soft pop and pause for a beat, giving her another chance to end this. Her eyes are swimming with tears, and for a moment, I think she actually does want me to stop. But then something hard flashes in them, and instead she says, "Don't."

I tap into the feel of her body trapped against mine, into the rapid rhythm of her breathing, into the flushed points of her cheeks and the dark blue of her irises behind her glasses. They're slightly crooked on her face, and probably uncomfortable, but I leave them where they are. This isn't about comfort. This is about undoing her perfect image, about taking her apart so she can finally allow herself to feel. I force myself to look into her eyes and connect with her, to forget Sam and focus on a problem I can actually fix. Maybe I can find some peace in this, too, and even a little pleasure.

"Don't?" I say. I trap one of her arms behind her back and use all the strength in my hand to rip the opposite sleeve down. The stitching is tight - it's a well-made shirt - but eventually, it tears. She flinches at the noise. "I thought this was what you wanted? Punishment for what you've done? You know you deserve it. That's why you're not even trying to fight me."

That sparks something in her, because she writhes in my arms, even kicking out once at my foot. It actually hurts, but I ignore the pain, fisting the fabric of her torn shirt between her shoulderblades and yanking her forward until her face is hovering close to mine. I bite down at the pulse point tucked just beneath her jaw. Sink my teeth in hard enough to leave an imprint. A bruise. I will un-make Alexandra Cabot until she's just Alex. I will whisper all of her biggest fears in her ear until they don't matter anymore.

"Why have you stayed with SVU for so long, anyway?" I tear through the buttons at the front of her blouse. "What happened to the career-track lawyer who was always gunning for a promotion?" I push her back toward the desk, catching her waist at the last moment so she won't trip in her heels. "Or did you think you deserved to stay here, with the rest of the disgusting perverts I pass off to you every day?"

I force her up against the desk and push my hips between her thighs. Her pelvis jerks, as if she doesn't know whether to rock forward or scramble back. Not that she has much of a choice. I lean forward, allowing myself to be tender for the briefest of moments as I tuck a loop of her golden hair behind her ear. I need that small gesture to remind myself what this really is, and I hope she does, too. "Was it because you saw something familiar in them? Or did you just enjoy reading the case files a little too much?"

That makes her angry. She throws up a hand to slap me, but I catch her wrist - just like she knew I would. I loosen my fingers a little when I realize I'm probably gripping her too hard. "Did I hit a nerve?" I wait silently for another second, give her another chance to end this. Her lips tremble, but she doesn't say a word. "Good."

I finish stripping off what's left of her shirt and lose myself in her body for a moment, unhooking her bra so that I have free access to her breasts. The tips are already cherry-red and swollen. I squeeze down harder than she usually likes. Her hips buck the wrong way - forward - and her eyes fly shut. "You're getting off on this, aren't you?" Another twist, another barely-restrained whimper. "You're sicker than I thought."

"No, I'm…"

I interrupt before she can keep going, pinching her nipples until I can tell she's swallowing back a scream. Just when I know she's at the edge of her tolerance, I lower my head and bite the curve of her breast, sinking my teeth into it until she's squirming against me. "Don't fucking lie to me," I growl into her skin. "If I reached down under that skirt of yours, I know what I'd find." One of my hands catches her knee and hauls it up around my waist. "Your pussy's dripping." She still won't open her eyes, so I grab her chin with my other hand. "Look at me and tell me it isn't true."

As soon as her eyes open again, I ruck her skirt up around her hips and shove my hand between her legs. I don't even bother taking her panties off at first. Just rubbing through them is enough. She must have been closer than I thought, because as soon as I hit the slight swell of her clit through the damp fabric, a fresh flood rushes through them. A few ribbons of wetness even manage to escape the elastic and roll down her bare thighs, threatening to stain the edges of her stockings. "You little whore…" I pinch the fullest part of her clit through the sticky material, and another surge of warmth coats my wrist. "I knew you were twisted, but I didn't think you'd come this fast."

She obviously hadn't thought so, either, because she closes her eyes again and turns her face away, breathing heavily as she rides through the aftershocks. She doesn't resist as I pull her underwear down to her thighs. The low hum of arousal I've been riding on by tapping into her reactions roars to life in earnest when I look between her legs. She's already a mess, her full outer lips pouting apart to reveal everything in between. She must have shaved sometime yesterday, because even the small golden triangle she usually keeps is gone. Her clit is bright red and slick with wetness, pushing all the way out past its thin hood. The tip jerks as soon as I touch it.

"Fuck, look at you. All I've done is hurt you, and you're already spread open and lubed up for me." I seize her chin again and jerk her head down, forcing her to look between her own legs. I see flickers of hurt and arousal twist together in her eyes. I'm on the right track. "It's a good thing you already came once. Otherwise, this might hurt." I give her clit one last pinch and drag my fingers lower, thrusting three of them inside at once. She arches, screams to the ceiling and claws at the edge of her desk, but she manages to take them. I know the stretch has to sting for her, but I have no trouble pushing my way in.

Her inner muscles clutch tight around my fingers, trying to drag them deeper. I barely even have to move to get a reaction. I curl forward, searching for the place I need. A desperate sob spills from her throat as soon as I hit it, and the pulsing heat inside her squeezes down harder. "Is this what you're afraid of?" I lean forward, tease her earlobe with my teeth as I thrust deeper inside of her. My wrist burns from the force of each stroke, but I don't care. "That everyone will find out you enjoy this? The same fucking thing you send people to jail for? You aren't just a whore. You're a hypocrite."

The wail that escapes her is so sharp that I almost stop. It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts again. The muscles of her stomach are bunched with need, and her face is twisted into something between pain and pleasure, hatred and helplessness. She's close, and not just physically. She's close to breaking. I can feel it. And when she does, maybe she can rebuild better than before. I claw my way deeper into her head, pull out more of her fears. "Some people shut down after being raped. Some people drink themselves to death. Some people..." I pause, but only for a moment. "Some people try to kill themselves. But not you. You just come. And come, and come, and come, no matter how much I hurt you."

"No, I won't… I… won't..."

But she does. After all this time, I know exactly where and how to touch her. I jab my fingers up against the full, strained place inside her and grind my thumb into the slick bud of her clit. The pressure is violent and unrelenting, but it's enough. She tosses her head back so hard that her glasses fly off her face and clatter onto the desk. Her mouth falls open, and she shouts something a little like my name as her hips jerk wildly into my hand.

Wetness slips around and over my fingers, and each thrust earns me even more. The sharp pulses of her inner walls make it hard to move, but I do my best, driving as deep as I can to force out every last drop. Her clit jumps beneath my thumb, and I swipe over it in quick, hard circles, enjoying the way it makes every muscle in her body tense and shake. For a moment, I allow myself to enjoy this. I don't like witnessing Alex's pain, but I do love and crave her release. And this release is something far more powerful than a physical orgasm. I'm proud, even humbled that I was able to give it to her.

I keep fucking her as she tucks her tear-stained face against my shoulder, keep torturing her clit and coaxing out spill after spill of heat as she cries heavily into my shirt, keep holding her until she finally empties herself completely. She has no room for anything left inside of her - not even pain. By the time I pull out of her and wipe my fingers on her exposed thigh, one last degrading action to complete the scene, she's stopped sobbing. The tears are gone, and her lips flutter into a weak smile against the sweaty skin of my neck. It isn't perfect. She still isn't perfect. Her problems aren't gone. But I know she'll be able to sleep peacefully for a few hours tonight once I take her home. And she'll know that she's loved.

"I love you," I tell her over and over again. I whisper it in her hair, mumble it into a kiss on her forehead, say it as I reach for her glasses with my dry hand and slide them back into their proper place. "I love you, Alex." She looks up at me with soft blue eyes, and I can tell she's able to hear me again. Her ears and heart are open, and this is my chance to pour the right things into them. "And you're worthy of love. There is nothing wrong with you. You're strong, brave, and kind, and nothing you do, no mistake you make, can ever change that."

For the first time since leaving the hospital, her entire body relaxes. She leans back against the desk and lets out a sigh of relief. "I know I am. I'm just sorry you have to put in so much effort to remind me."

I give her one last kiss on the tip of her nose and start to fix her skirt. There's no saving the stockings or the shirt, but I'm sure she has spares somewhere in her office. "Well, I guess an orgasm's cheaper than therapy and antidepressants…"

She laughs. "Both of which I'm paying for anyway. But hey, if it works…" A shadow of sadness comes back over her face. "Do you think he'll wake up? I didn't get to hear anything from the doctors before… you know."

"I don't know, Lex. I hope he will. But this isn't your fault."

Her brow lowers. It's the same determined expression I've seen so many times in court. "I know it isn't my fault. And it's definitely not his. It's Roy Barnett's, and I'm going to make sure he pays for this. As far as I'm concerned, he's a murderer now, too."