Fandom: L&O: SVU
Spoilers: None. Slightly AU, pretending Alex never got shot.
Disclaimer: Based on the song Backseat Bushwhack by Avenue D, which is a TERRIBLE song that you should probably not listen to. I think it melts braincells, although it somehow inspired mine. I'm just weird.
Word Count: 500 or 1000 (varies by chapter)
AN: I know this series is WAY out of character for Alex and Olivia, but I decided to write it anyway.
"Fuck me at The Laundromat against the machine…"
Olivia hated doing laundry. No, the word 'hate' wasn't strong enough. She loathed carrying the heavy baskets (they were always heavy because Olivia procrastinated), she abhorred running out of detergent, and she despised the annoying clanging sound that her washer made as her jeans, tops, and underwear tumbled around inside.
When something inside of her washing machine broke (after she had already poured the detergent) she almost cried.
Resisting the urge to slam her head in the door, Olivia sighed. She really needed clean clothes for work the next day. Her neighbor on the right, a sweet old lady, was probably dozing off in the middle of the afternoon, and Olivia was on the outs with her neighbors to the left… something about a noise complaint. There was nothing else for it. She would have to use the Laundromat across the street.
Several minutes later, Olivia was searching for quarters and explaining her tale of woe to the owner of the Laundromat, a gentleman from Brooklyn. They knew each other by sight, but Olivia could not remember his last name for the life of her.
As he headed for the back room, Olivia scanned the establishment, trying to select a washer. Fortunately, it was almost five and most commuters were stuck in city traffic. She was the only one there and she had her pick of the machines. With a reluctant sigh, she chose the one furthest from the window, figuring that it got less use.
"Just what I want to do on my day off," Olivia grumbled, lifting the plastic basket that contained her still damp clothing. Opening the door and bending over, she began throwing her wet clothes into the washer. Finally finished, she rolled her quarters into the coin slot and bent over the machine to select her cycle. The washer started to hum and she was about to turn around when two soft, firm hands cupped her from behind, squeezing her ass through her jeans.
"What the fuck!" she hissed, whirling around and preparing to slug the creep that had tried to cop a feel. Familiar, teasing blue eyes froze her arm in mid swing.
"I'm not sure about the first part, handsome, but I think I'm up for the second," said Alex, resting her hand on Olivia's hip. Surprised and confused, the detective nodded dumbly, her frustration and anger evaporating.
"What are you doing here?" Olivia asked, distracted by the burning, hungry look in her lover's eyes.
"You ask too many questions." Pressing her body close to Olivia's, Alex backed her captive up against the rumbling washer. "You're shaking almost as much as that laundry machine," she whispered, her lips only a breath away from Olivia's. The detective did not deny it. Alex's voice and body language screamed sex, and Olivia's body was reacting.
She gave another long shudder as sharp teeth closed at the base of her throat. A soft, warm tongue followed, soothing the stinging flesh. Before Olivia knew what was happening, the loud zzzzip of her jeans being undone echoed through the empty Laundromat. She had enough presence of mind to squirm around to the side of the machine farthest from the door, trying to escape her lover's questing hands.
"Oh no you don't," Alex murmured before her mouth covered Olivia's in a hard kiss, nibbling on the detective's lower lip. Alex pressed closer, making the overwhelmed detective squirm beneath her hips. Olivia was caught completely off-guard. Although she was a pistol in the courtroom, Alex was surprisingly demure in the bedroom. It had taken months of careful, loving attention to draw the reserved blonde out of her shell.
Her previous partners - all men, Alex had confided - had not been particularly adventurous, either. Good New England boys usually kept two women at a time, one to please their mothers and one to please themselves. None of them had bothered to make the experience exciting, knowing they could always seek pleasure elsewhere. Good New England girls, on the other hand, were supposed to refrain from mentioning sex at all costs, especially with potential husbands.
But now, Olivia's Good New England girl was revealing a new, adventurous side to her personality. Dear God, is this the same woman who was almost too shy to straddle my face? Maybe there's hope for my handcuffs after all…
The washing machine vibrated against her back, the loud clanging sound muffling her small gasp of surprise as Alex's fingers found her through the fabric of her underwear. "Alex, baby, no… I - I can't… we…" Olivia whimpered helplessly, overwhelmed by the circling, teasing fingers.
Alex, not one to waste an opportunity, took Olivia's open mouth in another kiss. Olivia responded by suckling the tip of her tongue, making Alex groan and press her fingers harder, pulling aside elastic and plunging in to wet heat.
Unable to keep her eyes open, the detective let her lover take charge, her head rolling back and exposing the column of her throat to Alex's mouth. She was amazed at how fast she was rising, at how much she was feeling… The only words she seemed to remember were 'Oh God…' and 'Alex…', which she gasped over and over again as the pad of Alex's thumb made teasing circles in exactly the right spot…
The sharp, stabbing pulses in her lower abdomen caught her completely by surprise. Before she realized what was happening, white spots flashed behind her eyelids and she fell forward into Alex's arms, almost losing her balance. It was quick, brutal, bordering on painful. Alex, however, did not seem disappointed.
"Don't worry, detective," she purred, kissing the soft skin just beneath Olivia's ear, "that was just a warm up. Now, take me up to your apartment… there's still about half an hour on the timer."
"Turn on your Hazard Lights, take off your pants..."
"Elliot? Yo, Elliot… Stabler!" Looking up from his paperwork, Elliot glanced across the bullpen at an irritated Finn. "You distracted or something? You've been staring at that same page for the past twenty minutes… what's up?"
Elliot sighed, pushing aside the open file on his desk and turning in his chair to face his colleague. "Something like that," he said, wondering what kind of explanation to give.
"I know it ain't about a case. For a Friday, it's been pretty quiet." Aside from a flasher and an overprotective mother that wanted to charge her pregnant nineteen-year-old daughter's boyfriend, they hadn't caught a case all day.
Elliot rolled his head, cracking the vertebrae in his neck and standing up to stretch. The paperwork could wait. "Uh, let's just say I caught a case of coitus interruptus on the drive home yesterday…"
Finn arched one eyebrow. "Two teenagers necking in a car? What's so distracting about that?"
"Two women, they weren't teenagers, and they were doing a hell of a lot more than just necking." Wisely deciding not to say any more on the subject, Elliot headed to the water cooler, letting his mind wander…
"Son of a bitch," Elliot muttered, catching a glimpse of the squad car pulled over to the side of the road. It was parked at a slightly crooked angle and its hazard lights were flashing.
Elliot had really been hoping to get home early that evening and surprise his family. He often stayed at work past 10:00 PM, and driving home at 5:00 like he was doing today was almost unheard of, but his conscience wouldn't let him pass a brother in blue if they needed help. Perhaps their car was malfunctioning. With the NYPD's budget, it wouldn't be the first time…
As he pulled up behind the parked squad car, he recognized the license plate. Hey, that's our squad car… did Liv take it? What the hell is she doing all the way out here? Now curious instead of annoyed, Elliot left the safety of his own private vehicle and walked towards the driver's side door of the cruiser, expecting to see Olivia's face through the window.
Instead, he saw a very attractive behind clad in boyshorts, jeans tangled around her knees, and the bare expanse of his partner's back and shoulders. A pale white arm was curled around her torso, perfectly manicured nails leaving four vertical red lines along the smooth olive skin. Another white hand, along with one of Liv's, was trapped somewhere between the two writhing bodies.
Elliot's jaw dropped. What on earth…?
Unable to look away and still not quite comprehending what he was witnessing, he watched a long, garter-clad leg wrap around Olivia's waist, its black, high-heeled shoe barely hanging onto its owner's toes.
He recognized that shoe.
Alexandra Cabot had been wearing the exact same pair when she visited the squad room earlier that day. Elliot usually didn't notice shoes, but Munch had made a comment about their price… Oh God, Olivia and Alex are… uh… in the back of our squad car and I'm thinking about Munch? Jesus… is that good or bad? Wait, what the hell am I going to do about this?
Uncomfortable, embarrassed, excited, and angry all at once, Elliot debated his options. He could just drive away. Olivia and Alex were too busy with… well… to even notice his departure. But he couldn't just leave them there, either. What if another police car came by and stopped to help? Or worse, someone that worked in the courthouse? Both buildings were pretty close by, and most of the staff would probably be on their way home soon, just like he was… Reluctantly, Elliot banged on the window.
Two high-pitched screams came from inside of the car and he caught a brief glimpse of Alex's naked thigh before the startled attorney jerked away from Olivia, trying to smooth down her hiked up skirt and hold together her unbuttoned blouse at the same time.
Olivia, who used a few extra seconds to turn around and look through the window, took longer to realize what was happening. When she saw her partner staring down at them with an expression of utter disbelief on his face, she hurried to pull up her pants and reached underneath Alex's shoulder for her discarded bra and shirt.
His face burning, Elliot turned away from the pair and slowly walked back to his car, unable to get the image of the two women together out of his mind. Leaning against the driver's side door, he glanced surreptitiously back at the squad car, wondering whether he should wait and see if Liv wanted to talk or make a hasty retreat.
"Jesus, Alex, you've really done it this time!" Elliot raised his chin, hearing the familiar voice of his partner drift over from the police cruiser.
"Me? How is this my fault?"
"You shoved your hand down my pants on the drive home, that's how!"
"It was your fantasy to fuck in the squad car, not mine!"
"Yeah, a fantasy! As in, something we're not supposed to do in real life because we could get caught!"
"Well, maybe if you had finished making love to me this morning, I wouldn't have jumped you on the ride home…"
"Not that again… I told you that the Captain's been on me about being late…"
"If you don't want to be late in the morning, you shouldn't wake me up with sneak-attack cunnilingus!"
"Only you would find a way to insert that word into an argument… but that doesn't matter, because my partner just caught us-"
Having heard more than enough, Elliot made the wise decision to leave before the situation got even more awkward. Sighing, he adjusted his pants as he got back into his car and turned the keys. What a day. Maybe Kathy would be home already…
The Dance Floor: (but not quite)
"Fuck me on The Dance Floor, just be sneaky…"
AKA The Trials And Tribulations Of The Honorable Lena Petrovsky
It wasn't that Lena Petrovsky enjoyed stepping on Alexandra Cabot's toes, per se. It was just that the sharp, politically motivated attorney tended to find herself in unfortunate situations. By some bizarre coincidence, these situations seemed to happen right in front of Petrovsky's nose.
Begging the pardon of Jack McCoy, who seemed to have made it his mission to dance with every female at the auspicious gathering of Manhattan's political elite, she headed to the bathroom for a temporary reprieve. In her position, a certain amount of schmoozing was required, but she didn't have to like it.
The last thing she expected to find was Alexandra Cabot lifted up beside one of the sinks, evening gown pushed high enough on her thighs to reveal expensive stockings and garters, in flagrante delicto and rubbing shamelessly against Detective Benson's hand like a horny tabby.
Her first thought upon entering the bathroom was: Of course. It would be Alexandra…
Her second thought was much cruder, and hardly something that any of her colleagues would have expected from her. Well, the drapes match the carpet.
Her third thought was: Good Lord, McCoy is going to kill them. Then fire Alex. Then kill them again.
Hoping that no one was behind her, she made a hasty retreat, closing the door as quietly as possible. Slumping bonelessly against the wall, she hoped that her exit had not been noticed.
Well. So much for that quiet moment.
Carefully removing the expression of surprise from her face, the Honorable Lena Petrovsky gazed out over the crowded dance floor, collecting her thoughts. The women swarmed together like a flock of birds in their colorful dresses, and the men looked rather like uncomfortable penguins. Fortunately, none of the ladies seemed to need the restroom at the moment.
None of them had a clue. Really, it was almost humorous.
Almost every male on that dance floor would pay good money to see what was going on in the ladies room right now. Actually, a good number of the women might, too… Lena Petrovsky was not one of those women, but picturing Jack's horrified and enthralled expression did result in a wry smile.
The judge had a theory about Alexandra. Cabot was no fool. She used her lofty, superior attitude to her advantage in her working relationships. But walking around with a stick up your ass had to be tiring. She supposed that Detective Benson had simply been trying to remove it.
"Liv." Thud. "Harder." Thud. "Oh, God…" Thud.
Petrovsky's head fell back against the wall with an answering thud. Good grief. She didn't want to wait around, but she could hardly walk away and subject someone else to an accidental view of their badly-timed coupling. Besides, although she would deny it in open court, she had a soft spot for the little blonde spitfire.
Any fond thoughts of Alexandra disappeared as Liz Donnelly approached, obviously needing to use the restroom. Lena sighed, shook her head, and prepared to head her off.
"Fuck me at The Library, up against the stacks..."
"This is a really - oh! - bad idea…" Olivia said huskily as clever fingers squeezed the crotch of her jeans, swirling around the single button, pushing it back and forth through the loop that kept it in place.
I should have known something was up when Alex said she wanted to go to the library… I've unleashed a monster, she thought as she stared into the wicked, unrelenting blue eyes of her girlfriend. I coaxed this part of her out, and things are never going to be normal again.
"Christ, woman, we're in the library. There are children here." Olivia tried, she really did, to move her own hand on top of Alex's and stop the soft, insistent stroking, the firm squeezes, but her arms just wouldn't cooperate. Instead, they clutched at the edge of the wooden table they were sitting at in a death grip.
Alex ignored her, turning back to the book - some sort of con law treatise - spread open on the table in front of her, continuing to massage Olivia's heat through the rough denim. "If you're so concerned about being seen," she said, keeping her eyes on the page, "cover my hand with your jacket, because it's not moving."
Knowing that arguing with Alex was useless, Olivia grabbed her jacket, which was draped over the back of her chair, and set it on top of her lap. "I hate you," Olivia muttered, squeezing her legs tight and trapping Alex's fingers to try and halt the attorney's progress.
Unwilling to be put aside so easily, Alex gave Olivia's inner thigh a firm pinch. The detective yelped, causing several nearby people to look at her. A bespectacled librarian - and they were not sexy spectacles like the ones Alex wore - glared at her, putting her finger to her lips in the universal sign for silence. She grinned sheepishly and bent down over her paperwork, which she had brought with her to keep her occupied while Alex browsed the stacks. Unfortunately, Alex had found something much more interesting to open than a new historical fiction novel or yet another of her beloved presidential biographies.
"I just thought we were here for the atmosphere," Olivia muttered sulkily, trying valiantly to ignore the hand that was slowly undoing her zipper. "I knew you liked libraries, but I didn't know you liked fucking in them."
Alex, whose eyes were still carefully trained on the book lying on the table in front of her, slid her hand into the open fly of Olivia's jeans, the smallest smile twitching at the corners of her lips as she felt her lover's very obvious reaction to her teasing. "You seem to be enjoying yourself, Liv."
"That's your fault, and I'm not enjoyi-iiing myself," Olivia lied, extending the vowel as Alex's fingertips crept beneath her bikini cut panties. "Alex, take me home if you want to continue this. Don't you remember what happened with Elliot?"
"He got over it."
"He's a red-blooded male. He probably still d-dreams about it. At least the poor guy warned us an- and he walked away to let us get dressssed… Alex, please…"
"Please what, honey?" Alex said, barely mouthing the words, finally glancing up at the brunette's face to enjoy her tortured expression. Her fingers were coated in Olivia, and so it was easy for her to slide one finger inside, despite the constriction of her jeans…
Alex used her free hand to turn the page of her book, which had very small print and far too many long Latin words (not that she was really reading them anyway). "No one's looking, Olivia. The bald man over there is practically falling asleep in his newspaper, the redheaded mother and her child went to the check-out desk three minutes ago, and if that old lady with the coke bottle glasses on a chain catches us, it'll be the most exciting thing that ever happened in her life, I'll bet."
Realizing that Alex was going to finish what she started, Olivia resigned herself to her fate and picked up her pen, pretending to look busy. At this rate, it wouldn't be long before Alex got what she wanted from her, anyway. She was actually doing Munch a favor and going over the rap sheet of his niece's latest loser boyfriend - which was a relief, since there was no way she would let Alex touch her while doing paperwork on a sexual assault. Thinking about Munch effectively took the edge off of her arousal, allowing her to continue reading the sheet.
Prior records… prior records… grand theft auto, breaking and entering… entering - another subtle thrust inside of her - dammit Alex!
A lazy thumb began to draw circles over the hard little bundle of nerves, rubbing against the wet fabric of her underwear. Alex's fingers knew just where to stroke, exactly how much pressure to use, the perfect way to flick the tip of her…
One more pinch was all it took to send Olivia flying over the edge.
"Oh!" she gasped, unable to swallow the exclamation in time. The elderly librarian made another 'shhh' noise at her, brows lowering beneath the frames of her thick glasses. "Oh… so that's the address for…" she improvised, looking down frantically at the sheet, "Mr. Thrush… I didn't - know he… lived in… Manhattan…?"
The librarian looked at her strangely, and Olivia realized that she was making absolutely no sense. There was nothing to do but bang her head against the table. Damn, damn, damn. She supposed she should take some responsibility for her own humiliation - you were the one that encouraged her to be more adventurous, Olivia - but right now, she definitely felt like blaming her girlfriend.
Calmly, Alex withdrew her hand from Olivia's underwear, closing her jeans (the detective was sure every person in the entire library could hear the loud 'zzzzip'). Looking completely at ease, she slid two wet fingers between her lips, sucking on them briefly before using them to turn the page of her book.
The Parking Lot:
"Fuck me at The Parking Lot, Fuck me at McDonalds…"
AKA 'In which Olivia Benson is a hypocrite and a tease'
"Detective Benson, could you please describe the events that transpired on September 24th at 2:36 PM?"
"I was picking up a late lunch for my squad members on the way back from a domestic disturbance call. At a little after two thirty, I was driving back to the station with our food when I noticed a red Honda swerving…"
Alex yanked the steering wheel to the right, correcting the path of her car and trying not to swerve. It started with a gentle touch to her chin, two of Olivia's fingers dragging down the column of her throat, tracing the lines of her collarbone, dipping between her breasts and swirling around each nipple over the fabric of her shirt. But it had not stopped there. When the touch trailed down the line of her stomach, smoothing over her skirt and caressing a bare knee, Alex could not hold back a groan. Somehow, with that one winding line, Olivia managed to tease every one of her hot spots with almost no effort.
"Olivia, oh my God, what are you doing?" she panted, clasping a hand over the brunette's wandering fingers.
Undeterred, Olivia continued her assault, nibbling on her lover's ear as Alex tried desperately to concentrate on the dark, abandoned stretch of road in front of them. Sometimes, driving through upstate New York was like coasting through the middle of nowhere. Mountains and forests stretched on forever without another soul in sight, but even so…
"Is the driver here in this courtroom today?"
"Let the record show that Detective Benson has identified the defendant, Gary Wilkes."
"Please continue, Detective."
"I thought about it, and even though I'm not a traffic cop by any means, I decided it was unsafe to allow the vehicle to continue swerving and put on my sirens."
"You've never thought about it?"
In all honesty, she hadn't. Despite the naughty-girl façade she occasionally put on for Olivia, a part of Alex remained a good girl at heart, and this was just a little bit too much even for her. "This - what…? Olivia-"
The teasing fingers didn't stop, urging Alex's skirt all the way over her hips, revealing her underwear, just barely illuminated by the back-glare of the headlights. The attorney tried to move her hands and cover herself, she really did, but they were locked around the steering wheel in a death grip that she couldn't break.
"He grabbed the steering wheel and tried to speed away at first, but eventually I got in the lane beside him. I happened to look in the driver's side window of his vehicle, and, erm… I saw the defendant and a female passenger engaged in sexual activity."
"Could you please clarify that for the jury?"
"I, ah - Counselor, Your Honor, please forgive my use of the vernacular…"
"Road head? Are you seriou- Christ!" the blonde snapped as Olivia undid her seatbelt and leaned over, resting a warm cheek on top of her thigh. "Give a girl some warning!"
"Deadly serious," Olivia purred, kissing the top of Alex's leg. "Hey, you're on cruise control…"
"I'm not doing this. Way too dangerous."
"Do you want me to stop…?"
Too late now, Alex thought as a teasing finger traced her lower abdomen, dipping just below the damp fabric of her underwear. She was too worked up to call it off entirely.
"Hell no. I'm pulling over."
"Well, he finally pulled over after I started flashing my lights and he realized he couldn't outrun me. I approached the driver's side door of his vehicle, showed him my badge, and asked him to step out of the car. He refused."
"What did you do?"
"I repeated my request and told him that if he continued to be uncooperative, I would have to take him to the station. Then, he reached over the female passenger, grabbed an empty McDonalds bag, balled it up, and threw it at my head."
"There's a rest stop," Alex breathed, trying to ignore the skilled fingers that were pulling down her underwear, parting her legs as she tapped on the breaks. She flipped on her turn signal and veered to the right, pulling into a parking space and putting the car in park. Fortunately, it was late at night, there were only two other abandoned cars in the deserted lot, and they were nowhere near a light.
"I knew you'd pull over," Olivia said, un-buckling Alex's seatbelt and turning the limp, trembling woman sideways in her seat.
"I knew you wouldn't really have continued unless I pulled over. You're too much of a cop."
"I dodged the bag and reminded Mr. Wilkes that I was a police officer and could arrest him for public lewdness and endangering the welfare of others. He responded with a few epithets that don't bear repeating… and implied that I could take over the activity his passenger had abandoned when I pulled them over."
"Jesus, baby, you're absolutely soaked…"
"Mmm - oh fuck, Olivia… Please - please…"
"Oh my… someone's got a naughty streak, huh? You usually don't swear."
"When Mr. Wilkes exited the vehicle, he tried to throw a punch, but his pants were still around his ankles and he tripped and fell flat on his face. That's how he broke his nose."
Twitching fingers curled in dark brown hair as Alex clutched her lover's head more tightly against her. Under Olivia's tongue, she was whimpering and helpless, beyond all of the societal constraints she was normally bound to.
And when she tensed and released, spilling over into her lover's mouth, it was utterly freeing.
"I cuffed him, put him in the back of the squad car, and called for backup. I ran his name and license plates, we discovered there was an outstanding warrant, and the unis booked him."
Alexandra Cabot's lips twitched up in the ghost of a smile. "Thank you for your testimony, Detective Benson. That's all."
Mile High Club:
Olivia was adamant. "We are absolutely not having sex on the flight to Cancún."
Alex was equally adamant that they would, but she knew arguing with Olivia was useless. Her detective disliked planning them in advance or even talking about them unless it was in the moment. Olivia found their habit of semi-public sex worrisome and more than a little embarrassing. Unfortunately - or was it fortunately? - neither of them seemed able to break the pattern.
Instead of arguing, she changed the subject. "Maybe we shouldn't go to Mexico. I might drink some bad water and get sick," she mused, finishing off her moo goo gai pan and staring at Olivia, who was lounging on their bed. Even though she was eating in the bedroom, something Olivia hated, the brunette wasn't complaining. The unintentionally sexual thought almost made Alex laugh, but she managed to hide her amusement.
If Olivia heard half of the sexual puns and 'that's what she said' jokes wandering around in my head, she would leave me. She was supposed to be a serious lawyer, after all, and serious lawyers did not make dirty jokes or engage in risky sex with decorated NYPD detectives. At least not usually…
"Alex, we already have the tickets. They cost a fortune. Both of us practically had to sell our souls to get the same vacation time. We're going."
The night before they left, she purposely faked a headache before bed, leaving Olivia wanting, and the next morning, she stopped half-way through a heavy petting session to point out that their suitcases were still only half packed and they were probably going to be late if they didn't get up and dressed. Olivia was almost too far-gone to care, but when Alex reminded her about the money they had already spent on the tickets, she reluctantly got out of bed. Appealing to Olivia's frugal nature was always effective.
"We're not having sex on the flight, Alex," Olivia reminded her as they waited in line for their bags to be screened. The detective had already argued with two different personnel about possessing the proper licenses and filling out the necessary paperwork to carry her piece. Technically, she didn't need it, but leaving behind her service weapon would have been like leaving behind an arm or a leg.
Alex seemed to accept this, but she was busy preventing another unnecessary delay by giving the young male screener a meaningful look when he opened his mouth to announce that there was a 'weapon-shaped object' in Alex's carry-on. He wisely decided not to investigate further.
However, Olivia knew that her lover's unnatural cheerfulness meant that Alex was up to something. "Not happening," she said firmly.
"You've never wanted to join the Mile High Club?"
Unfortunately, a mother and father with a small child of six or seven passed by at exactly the wrong moment. "What's the Mile High Club?" the young girl asked. Her mother gave the two women a seething glare.
Thinking quickly, Olivia salvaged the situation. "It's the club you get to be a part of when the nice Pilot gives you your plastic wings, sweetie. It means you were brave enough to fly on a plane." Although still annoyed, the mother was also relieved that Olivia had averted disaster. The father, on the other hand, looked highly amused.
Alex, who was equally amused, gave Olivia a playful hip bump. "You wanna give me wings, baby?"
"You've got me confused with Red Bull," Olivia grumbled. "I mean it, blondie. We're not engaging in any inappropriate activities on the flight to Cancún. That's final."
Forty-five minutes later, they were in the plane's tiny, cramped restroom and most definitely engaged in an inappropriate activity.
"No… this is a really bad idea-aaah…" Olivia groaned as Alex undid her belt and pushed her back against the low sink. The metal basin was at hip level, just the right height for Olivia to perch on as Alex dropped to her knees and draped one of Olivia's legs over her shoulder.
"Yeah, I've heard that before. Shut up and enjoy it already, Benson." With her pants still caught on her other leg and one shoe missing, trapped in a claustrophobic airplane restroom, Olivia felt completely embarrassed and - oh God, Alex's mouth feels so good…
Drowning. Alex had always heard that drowning was a peaceful way to die, but drowning in Olivia was heaven. The clean, warm taste. Pink folds flared open around two curling fingers. The hard, slick bundle twitching against her tongue as she dropped kisses on its tip. All silkiness and smoothness and, for just a moment, a split second of trembling, quivering vulnerability as her lover shuddered out her release, chewing on the inside of her cheek and trying to swallow her sounds of pleasure.
She loved this. She loved making her lover come. She loved driving her crazy. Mostly, she just loved Olivia. Loved and wanted her closer every second of every day, even 35,000 feet in the air in a bathroom smaller than the closet where she kept her shoes. Of course, she had a lot of shoes, but that wasn't the point.
If anyone outside suspected, Alex could have cared less. Olivia was still gasping her name, twitching with violent aftershocks, thighs painted with a clear, wet glaze that the blonde was more than happy to take care of for her.
"You are going to get me in so much trouble," the detective finally groaned when she regained her voice.
But she wasn't mad.
She wasn't even mad when the family from earlier, who happened to be sitting a few rows away from the bathroom, saw them exit the restroom together. The little girl smiled and waved. Her mother looked like she might faint. But it was her husband's wink that put a blush on Olivia's cheeks.
Alex smiled. Someday, Olivia would realize that arguing with a lawyer (especially a pretty lawyer you happened to be sleeping with) was a waste of time.
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