Work Text:
There she is. On the other side of the room, in a wine-red dress that dips low between her breasts and shows off her pale shoulders. Her arms move, slender and graceful, as she weaves a story with her hands as well as her mouth—some anecdote or other that has her admiring crowd in stitches of laughter.
Olivia licks her lips, staring hungrily. Drinking in the sight of Alex, entertaining a spellbound audience instead of the forgotten glass of champagne in her hand. She sets it on a passing waiter’s tray, still half-full, and heads toward the true object of her attentions, adding a swagger to her step. One she hopes Alex will appreciate.
She notes the exact moment Alex sees her coming. Her beautiful blue eyes widen, dark blonde brows lifting in mild surprise, and her lips, tinted darker by maroon lipstick that Olivia is already desperate to smudge with kisses, part ever so slightly. She smiles, gesturing for Olivia to join her.
“…you all know Detective Benson, right? With the 16th Precinct.”
That voice. It’s like honey in tea, or sinking into a steaming hot bath. Olivia feels her face flush and her heartbeat quicken, but manages to put on a polite smile for Alex’s audience. Alex goes through their names, and Olivia shakes several hands, not really retaining any of the information. She’s only focused on one thing: the woman she can’t stop admiring from the corner of her eye.
“Hello,” she murmurs. “Pleasure to meet you.” To Alex, she thinks: I want to lick a trail from your cleavage all the way to your lips and kiss you senseless.
Alex reaches for her arm, fingers tightening ever so slightly, as if she’s somehow heard the thought. “Olivia, do you need me for something?”
It’s all Olivia can do to suppress a grin. Alex has read her with the same thoroughness and accuracy she applies to every case file. Nevertheless, for the sake of Alex’s admirers, she offers a lukewarm apology. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“It’s all right.”
With well-practiced grace, Alex disentangles herself from the group, never letting go of Olivia’s arm. Her touch burns, and Olivia wishes she’d worn a dress instead of a suit, if only because her sleeves prevent her from feeling Alex’s fingertips directly on her skin.
The din of conversation becomes nothing more than white noise until Alex turns away, waiting for Olivia to escort her elsewhere. Glancing around the room, then back at the bewitching woman on her arm, Olivia makes a snap decision. She doesn’t want to share Alex with these people anymore, looking the way she does, acting the way she is. This show is supposed to be for her, and she feels compelled to prove it.
Without another word, she guides Alex through the throng of partygoers, skirting the edge of the room to avoid as many obstacles as possible—obstacles such as Alex’s boss, Liz, or the D.A., Branch, whom Olivia knows will drag her into conversation. Luckily, she succeeds in her mission. They grab their coats without incident, and soon they’re in the parking lot, making a beeline for Alex’s Lexus.
“We’re leaving awfully early,” Alex muses, fishing in her purse for the keys. “People will notice.”
Olivia smirks. It’s a bit of a dangerous game they’re playing, dating under the radar, but part of her also wants people to know that Alex isn’t available. That they don’t have a chance. They might have come to the party separately, but they’ll be leaving together, even if no one else is around to witness it.
“Do you want to go back inside?” She slides her hand down Alex’s back, letting it rest at the dip of her spine.
Alex gives an extremely gratifying shudder. “Definitely not.”
But it’s Olivia’s turn to shudder as Alex opens the rear door and tilts her head, motioning for Olivia to go in first.
All the blood in Olivia’s body drops between her legs and throbs there. In the back seat? Really? They aren’t exactly high schoolers anymore. But Alex is wearing a plunging red dress, which still peeks out from beneath her coat, and her eyes burn expectantly behind her glasses. It’s dark, and the windows of the Lexus are tinted for privacy. Olivia decides that’s good enough.
As soon as they’re both situated in the back seat, Alex is upon her, a ravenous demon that tastes like lipstick and champagne. Olivia groans into the kiss, divesting Alex of her coat before wriggling out of her own. Alex starts unbuttoning her shirt, but Olivia isn’t so patient. She slides her hands straight up Alex’s legs, lifting her dress to her hips.
“Liv.” Alex’s breath hitches as Olivia makes contact, squeezing the damp fabric of her underwear. “Please. You’ve been teasing me all night...”
Olivia has to chuckle at that. “Me? Teasing you?” She finds Alex’s clit through the soaked material, rubbing in firm circles. “Did you look in the mirror before showing up to this shindig, Counselor?”
Alex abandons Olivia’s half-buttoned shirt and nuzzles into her shoulder, panting heavily. Her hot mouth grazes the shell of Olivia’s ear, sending another flash between her legs and ruining her own underwear. But it’s the words, the fucking words, that drive Olivia so crazy she has to pull Alex’s panties aside and thrust up.
“Can you blame me? You fuck me so well when I make you jealous. Ahh!”
Alex’s teeth latch onto Olivia’s neck, but she hardly notices. She’s wrapped up in the warmth around her fingers, the tight, pulsing walls bearing down around her. A single crook of her fingers earns all kinds of lovely noises, and addicted as she is, Olivia can’t stop. Not that either of them wants to stop.
“You’re mine now,” she growls, applying even more pressure to Alex’s front wall. It’s puffy and swollen, and so is her clit, which catches on the heel of Olivia’s hand with every thrust. “For the rest of the night, at least.”
If Alex has some kind of smart remark prepared, it never comes out. She’s already lost, rocking into Olivia’s hand like nothing else in the world matters. Her hips roll in an increasingly frantic rhythm, and the only word she manages to say is, “Liv,” over and over again, with increasing volume and desperation.
Olivia doesn’t mind. Hearing Alex use her name is her favorite thing. She gives herself the freedom to nip and suck her way down Alex’s chest, along the pale ‘v’ of flesh that had so entranced her at the party, leaving light, patchy bruises that Alex will have to cover tomorrow. She’ll be wearing turtlenecks for the next several days, if Olivia has anything to say about it.
“Liv.” This time, her name is a plea as Alex pulls down the cups of fabric that cover her dress, freeing her breasts and guiding one of them into Olivia’s mouth.
Olivia sucks eagerly, with a light amount of teeth to secure her hold and plenty of tongue. Alex’s nipple is wonderfully hard in her mouth, and every time she pulls on it, Alex’s pussy clenches around her, spilling more wetness into her hand. The sensation leaves Olivia dizzy with power. She wants—no, needs—to make Alex come, with every fiber of her being.
It isn’t difficult. She knows Alex’s body almost as well as she knows her own, enough to earn the reactions she wants with unerring accuracy. She knows exactly how much pressure to use as she hooks her fingers, and just the right pattern to play over Alex’s clit as she positions her thumb over it. In a matter of moments, Alex is coming, whimpering into her neck and twitching like a livewire.
Just watching—and feeling—is almost enough to push Olivia over the edge herself. One of Alex’s knees is positioned between her legs, and she rubs against it whenever she has the brain capacity to spare, eager for her own release, but not eager enough to stop what she’s doing. She thrusts and curls and coaxes until Alex is a quivering mess on top of her.
Olivia takes a moment to admire her handiwork. Alex is a stunningly beautiful sight with her dress bunched around her middle, breasts hanging out, the swollen pink lips of her pussy exposed, puffy and parted for Olivia’s fingers. Her lipstick is smudged, and her sharp blue eyes are unusually glassy. But she’s alert enough to start fumbling with Olivia’s fly, and moments later, her fingers are hard at work.
To her credit, Olivia manages to last about twenty seconds. It’s more than she’d hoped for, honestly, after spending the night staring longingly at Alex from across the room, and then being given the honor of making her come in the back seat of her car—something she’s sure many people at the DA’s office and the NYPD have dreamed of, but will never get to experience for themselves.
“Fuck, Alex,” she grunts as two knowing fingers form a ‘v’ on either side of her clit, milking it with swift, sure strokes. “How do you even—” But then she forgets her words, and all she can do is cry out as she hits her peak, shuddering every bit as hard as Alex did mere moments before.
By the time it’s over, Olivia is dizzy and overstimulated, but nowhere near finished. The mischievous glint has returned to Alex’s eyes, and Olivia reaches up to straighten her glasses with the hand that isn’t wet. That one, she slides into her mouth, making a show of licking her fingers clean while Alex’s smeared lips fall part-way open.
“So, Detective,” Alex asks, her voice a half-octave lower than usual, “how do I taste?”
Rather than answer, Olivia releases her fingers and slides them into Alex’s mouth. There isn’t anything left to clean, but Alex does a thorough job anyway, closing her eyes and moaning in a way that makes Olivia think of the strap-on she keeps in her nightstand. Maybe, when she and Alex finally make it back to her place, they can find some use for it.
Alex seems to be of a similar mind. She withdraws her fingers from Olivia, leaving her uncomfortably empty in a pair of boxer-briefs that are now thoroughly soaked, and fixes the straps of her dress, smoothing down its skirt so she can exit the car. Olivia mourns the loss, but hurries to button her shirt and make herself presentable enough for the few steps it will take to move into the passenger’s seat.
“No speeding, leadfoot,” she jokes as she slides into the front, doing up her buckle while Alex starts the car, “or I’ll have to give you a ticket.”
Instead of rolling her eyes, Alex smirks. “Oh? But I’m a dangerous-looking sort. You always say so.”
That much is true. The dress she’s wearing now certainly makes her look dangerous, in Olivia’s opinion. “So?”
“So wouldn’t you have to search me?”
Olivia shakes her head. With previous lovers, the cop sex jokes always got old, but for some reason, with Alex, she doesn’t mind. Maybe it’s because Alex actually understands the full scope of what her job entails. She’s in it, too. And so, Olivia plays along. “If you’re really that dangerous, I’ll have to cuff you first.”
She doesn’t miss the light gasp Alex makes as she backs out of the parking space. Olivia leans back in her seat, content to watch the rising blush on Alex’s neck, admiring the marks she’s already left there. The handcuffs are in the same drawer as the strap-on, and although they’re padded and a lot more expensive than her NYPD-issued work cuffs, she knows exactly how to use them.