Chapter Text
Olivia Benson’s blazer stretches tight and uncomfortable across her shoulders as she slumps onto the velvet cushions. She’d snapped at him. Again. And she knows its only a matter of minutes before he comes careening into her trailer to either continue the argument or distract her from it entirely.
Her head falls back against the join of the couch to the wall, eyes fluttering shut, and she pulls her legs under herself, without the energy to remove Olivia’s heeled boots. Her ankle throbs and her stomach cramps, and she tries and fails to remember the last time she ate.
She doesn’t open her eyes when his heavy footfall rattles the steel steps, when he turns the lock and clicks it back into place behind him, or when his rubber soles scuff against the edge of her couch. She doesn’t need to see him to know he isn’t angry anymore, isn’t looking to incite or spar with her, but shedding Olivia’s anxiety isn’t as easy as shedding her ill-fitting blazers. And sometimes it’s easier to be mad.
His voice is croaky, his limbs heavy as he drops down next to her, slipping his Elliot Stabler sneakers from his feet. Her lungs deflate with the relief of his presence, but the acid-ball in her gut is stubborn and rigid. “What do you need, ‘Rish?”
She can’t answer that yet, her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth and she swallows hard against the friction of it. He takes her hand, entwining their fingers, and she feels the tingle of his energy bubbling beneath the surface of their joined skin. She pulls her hand back from his, and he sighs; she can hear him about to speak again but he pauses when she slides her fingers up the inside of his hand and presses her fingertips into his.
He understands what she’s asking for and flips her hand under his, trapping it against his denim thigh to increase the pressure he can apply to the tips of her fingers.
She moans softly at the weight of his hand against hers, letting his energy seep into her, allowing the prickle of the five points of connection to permeate her. It’s warm as it enters her bloodstream, starts to flow down the veins of her wrist and up her arms, seeking the heavy pulse of her heart, slowing it and steadying it to match the beat of his.
“Open your eyes,” he whispers, his breath hot against her cheek as he leans into her, and she presses into his side instinctively.
Her lips open and close. She wants to obey.
The hot wet pressure of his tongue on her turns her lips upward, she blinks through the blur, “that’s better. There’s that smile.” As he speaks, his free hand slips around the back of the couch and presses gently against the back of her neck, pushing her hair aside to make direct contact.
“I brought you something, pet”
She blinks up at him, winces as he breaks the contact of their fingers to reach over and pull a rectangle box out of nowhere. Her hand rests limp against his thigh as he slides the shiny pink cardboard onto her lap.
The pressure on the back of her neck straightens her spine and she pulls her legs in to keep the box steady on her lap.
“I saw that Insta post, and it’s been a little while since we - ”
She nods, and with both hands starts to trace the thick canary-yellow ribbon that lays taught across the middle of the box, “what is it, Daddy?”
He presses a kiss to the side of her head, “why don’t you open it and find out?”
The last of Olivia’s anxiety drains from her as she pulls the ribbon, and lifts the top of the box, a Mariska giggle bubbles at the back of her throat as she fingers the soft lace under layers of tissue paper. He helps her pull sheer fabric from the box and holds it up for her to inspect. The shape is similar to the babydoll lingerie he’s bought for her in the past. Two lace triangles joined at the center with a silk bow, a delicate curtain of netted fabric spilling from their base. She fingers the soft yellow lace, tracing up the strip that will wind around her neck like a halter, and realisation dawns, “Belle…”
His fingers on her chin pull her face to his, and he kisses her softly, “yes, pet. Daddy needs some time with his babygirl, and you looked so beautiful in that pantsuit. Then seeing your Insta post, I thought you might like to have a movie night.”
She nods again, giggles. He pushes the box back towards her, “keep going.”
“More?” she pushes the last of the tissue paper away, uncovering a thin glossy colouring book with the words DISNEY PRINCESSES, and the exact picture she’d posted on Instagram gracing its cover. She pulls the book out and flips through it, her eyes widening as each page reveals a new, intricate pattern of black ink. She thumbs to the middle of the book, where it bends open for her, and runs her finger over the black and white image of Belle and the Beast, the weight of him looming over her tiny frame, his hands inches from her waist and hers reaching up to touch his thick beard.
She pushes the box off her lap and turns to him in one motion, reaching out for him and he pulls her into his body. “It’s perfect, Daddy. Thank you.”
The plastic buttons on his Elliot Stabler shirt are fiddly and she gives an impatient whine that makes him chuckle. She needs to be closer to him, needs to feel his skin on hers. “You need some help baby?”
She whines again, managing to slip a few buttons through their holes, giving her enough space to slide three fingers against the skin of his upper chest. The hair is soft, and she brings her legs up to straddle him as she plays with it. He shifts his hips to give her more room, sliding one hand up her spine to rest once again against the back of her neck.
He squeezes and she groans. His free hand pulls her hips into him, and she grinds down, the scent of her readiness bubbling up between them. “What do you want, Rish?”
This time she doesn’t hesitate to answer, her need for him tingles the back of her throat, and she opens her mouth wide sticking our tongue out as far as she can, and he laughs. “You want a little taste of Daddy?”
He slides his hand down between them, and she whimpers when the back of his knuckles brushes against her hot core, “so greedy,” he mumbles into her hair, his fingers finding the buttons on her pants and pulling them open. She shakes her head, pushes her own fingers between them in an effort to unbuckle his belt, but he grips her wrists, hard. “Be good,” he growls, his teeth sinking into the flesh beneath her ear, her pulse thrumming against his tongue.
“Want to taste you.” She leans back and bats her eyes at him expectantly, but he’s always been more patient than her, and he just laughs, releasing one of her wrists to bring his hand up to her hair. He grabs a handful and pulls. Hard. Sinks his teeth into the exposed flesh again, and her eyes flutter. “Not yet,” he mouths against her throat.
He releases her hair and slides his hands back down to her front, grabbing her wrists and twisting her arms behind her back. She yelps, and he bites her again.
“Keep them there or I’ll send you straight home tonight, and you can see if Pete can fill that greedy little cunt.” She shakes her head and whines, pushing her tits into his chest. “Please, Daddy.”
His tongue is wet against her cheek as he brings his hands back down to her pants. “Be a good girl, and I’ll give you what you need.”
The groan he releases against her throat when his fingers finally trace the lace edge of her underwear sends a shiver down her spine and she grinds into him, her thoughts fogging with need. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, little one.”
She nods again, it’s all she can seem to do in this moment.
“Have you been like this all day?” Her hips move up and down, as if to communicate their own need separate to the rest of her body.
“Such a greedy little girl.” Her eyes widen as he pushes a single finger into her and she collapses against his chest, mouth open on the bare skin of his collarbone. She needs more, needs him to fill her, can feel the bulge of him against her inner thighs, hot and hard.
He reads her mind, slips two more fingers inside her and starts to twist them, his movements restricted by the angle and the pressure of her Olivia Benson trousers still tight around her hips. But she’s close already, has been all day, and she shifts her breasts against his chest trying to gain some friction for her aching nipples.
“So tight for Daddy, aren’t you baby?” He pants heavily against her throat, and she can hear the desperation in his voice, knows that underneath this role he’s just as desperate for her as she is for him, and it drives her to clench down on his fingers, pulling him further into her, needing more of him, all of him.
Her hips start to roll in a new rhythm, and his free hand twists between them once again, this time taking her stiff nipple between his fingers. He could always find them, no matter how thick her shirt was, and she yelps as he pinches hard. She’s so close, she just needs him to touch her clit, needs him to press his thumb down against her and thrust his fingers into her.
He alternates the pinch of her nipple with the thrust of his fingers inside her and it sends her careening towards the edge, her back arching against him, her chest collapsing into him. She can’t speak, can’t think, just needs more. She’ll never be full enough, never be satiated. A desperate mewl lingers between them, and if they weren’t the only ones here she’d swear it didn’t come from her.
“That’s it, baby, come for Daddy”
It’s almost too much. His voice, his fingers, her eyes flutter open just as he presses his thumb down on her clit and releases her nipple to snake his hands through her hair, pulling her head back and shoving his hips up against her, and she sees the open colouring book and yellow babydoll teddy, and clenches down on him as she crests desperately, “Daddddyyyy”
She slumps forward, trapping his fingers inside her as he presses her skull into his shoulder, “shh baby, that’s it. What a good girl, coming so hard for me.” He reaches around to bring her wrists out of their position behind her back, placing sloppy open mouthed kisses on the inside of each wrist.
And they sit there, pressed into eachother, for five slow minutes until her breathing evens out and he exhales three soft kisses into her hair. As she comes too the heat starts to overwhelm her, and she realises she’s still fully clothed. He seems to have the same thought, and pushes the blazer from her shoulders, her arms sliding through it from behind, and she can feel him still hard underneath her. He groans as she grinds her hips into him. “I think you deserve a little treat for being such a good girl,” he murmurs, bitting down on her earlobe. She nods and brings her fingers to his belt buckle. He lets her this time, shifting back to give her more room. But as she moves to stand, to shimmy out of her trousers, he grips her hip, “we don’t have time for that, baby. Take off your blouse, leave your pants on and get on your knees.”
She licks her lips and clenches against the ghost of his thick fingers. Her black chiffon shirt falls to the floor, and the hunger in his eyes shoots straight to her groin as she unclips her bra and lets it fall onto the heap. The carpet is soft on her knees, and she wishes that it weren’t, needs to feel the cold punishing sting of a hard floor. He must be able to read her thoughts, because he chuckles at the sight of her, reaches forward and pinches her sensitive nipples until she yelps.
“Better?” She nods, eyes cast down, and places her hands palms up against her clothed thighs. He strokes her hair, cheek, jaw, collarbone, before circling his large hand around her throat and squeezing. “You were a good girl, Rish, so I’m going to let you have a little taste of Daddy.”
She reaches out for him, her mouth watering in anticipation, but he places a hand on her forehead, and continues, “but you started an argument today, in public, instead of just telling me what you really needed. So we’re going to do this my way, understand?”
She doesn’t move, just pouts her lips and squeezes her eyes shut.
“I said, do you understand.”
But she still can’t move, her need to wrap her lips around him coiling in her chest like molten lava. His hand comes down hard on her cheek, the force of the slap pushing her back onto her ankles, and she yelps, winces, blinks up at him. “Understand?”
Her voice cracks as she exhales, “yes, Daddy.” But he doesn’t smile down at her like she expects, just pulls his fly the rest of the way down and pushes his jeans to his ankles.
She sits up, reaching for him again, trying to pull his hips towards her mouth. He shoves her back, wrapping his hand around her throat and squeezing until the edges of her sight blacken, his voice a low growl, “one more move like that and I’ll send you out there like this, with your tits out, looking like you’ve just been fucked, and everyone will know what a filthy little slut the venerable Mariska really is.”
Her pussy clenches at the thought, at the sound of her name from his lips, and an involuntary moan escapes her, but she sits back on her ankles and casts her eyes down.
“Better” he spits, “now open your fucking mouth.”
She complies, her hips starting to grind against air, grasping helplessly for friction with gravity. He tightens his hands around her throat again, “stay still.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She whispers, willing her body to obey.
She hears the rustle of his hand pulling his thick cock out of his briefs, and she wonders for a moment why he wore briefs today. He usually doesn’t, usually says he wants to be able to fuck her whenever he likes, without the hassle of underwear.
“Open your eyes, little girl, look how hard I am for you”
His hand is wrapped around the base of his cock, his balls look heavy and tight, and she wishes she could slip her mouth over them, massage them with her tongue. “You know what I want?”
She nods, keeps her eyes trained on the slow movement of his hand up and down the veined shaft. “I want you to think about how wet that needy little cunt of yours is for me, how much you wish I would bend you over this couch and shove my cock so far into you that you can taste it.” She moans, clenches, starts to gyrate her hips.
“Stop moving baby, stay still and watch me. Keep that pretty pink tongue out for me. Good girl.”
Saliva starts to pool around the edges of her mouth, threatening to spill, and she tries to swallow it down but it’s impossible with her mouth still so wide and her tongue out. He chuckles at her attempt and moves his hand faster, thumbing droplets of pre-cum from his tip and using them to lubricate his movements.
He steps forward, and the scent of him as he presses himself against her cheek is almost overwhelming. He reaches for her hand, and moves it towards his cock, stopping at the very last second and slipping the two hair-ties from her wrist, slapping her hands back down to her thighs.
She starts to raise her hands again and he growls, “my way, or you’re out there like this and home to Pete.” He chuckles as he slaps his cock against her cheek and divides her hair into two equal sides. “I wonder what he’d say if he saw you like this, on your knees, mouth open, tight little cunt dripping for Daddy.” She winces. His possessiveness is like fire, and they’ve both been burnt too many times to count.
He wraps a hair-tie around each chunk of hair, and pulls on her new pigtails. “That’s better,” he growls as he steps back and starts to fist himself again. “Keep your mouth open.”
“Fuck, Mackie.” He grunts as his cock swells, and she can tell he’s close, wills him to let her help him finish, she looks up at him and bats her eyes. He reaches forward and grabs her pigtails again, pulling her open mouth closer to him, so close she can almost taste him, before pushing her back out, the thick sections of hair flipping around her face from the force of the movement.
The head of his cock is purple and wet, and he squeezes as he fists, his hips jerking forward towards her. She keeps her eyes open, and to her relief he doesn’t comment on the gyration of her hips.
“Been so fucking hard, all day Mack.” His words come out in pants, and she feels her own breath quicken, “You’d like that wouldn’t you? You’d love it if I just ripped those fucking blouses open in front of everyone, shoved my cock between those perfect tits and showed them all what they’re missing.” She moans, slides her hand between her thighs and presses down on her swollen clit.
His grunts deepen, and the movement of his fist is almost violent as he thrusts his hips towards her. His face contorts as he jerks, squeezes his cock, and releases, cumming in thick ropes that splash into her open mouth and against her cheek, dripping onto her breasts. She closes her eyes, savors the taste of him, continues to rub her clit until his eyes open and he brings his hand to her jaw, tilting her head up and leaning down to place a soft kiss on her lips, “perfect,” he whispers into her mouth.
Three knocks on the trailer door jars them both, sends her stumbling back onto her ankles, and he grabs her shoulders to steady her. “Call time in five, Mariska”
She coughs, trying to clear her throat, but her voice still comes out a little whiny, girly, “Thanks be there in a sec.”
He laughs, moves his hand from her shoulder back to her jaw and starts to lift her up from the ground. She curls into him as she stands, his cum still wet on her cheeks, and she licks the remnants of it from her lips. Her pussy still aches for him, but now they definitely don’t have time so she just presses into him and inhales the scent of them. His energy still pulses through her, and he picks up the discarded yellow babydoll lingerie, using it to wipe her face, and massage his cum into her chest.
‘Get yourself cleaned up, kid. And be at the apartment at seven tonight for movie night. I’ll order pizza. Want you wearing this and nothing else.”
She nods, her voice still croaky and pitched, “yes, Daddy.”
He kisses her again, his tongue slipping into her mouth as he wraps his arms around her, squeezing her into him. “Good girl.”
He breaks the kiss, and she leans down to pick up her discarded bra and blouse as he pulls his pants up, zips, and starts to re-button his shirt. As he steps away, towards her trailer door, he turns, “Pet?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Keep the pigtails.” The door clicks shut behind him, and his feet rattle the steel steps again. She clenches her thighs and brings the yellow lace to her face, inhaling the scent of him.
Tonight.