This was written in spits and spurts between … well, if I told you what I was doing at the time, you probably wouldn't believe me, but it wasn't nearly as much fun as what Liv and Alex were doing.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, Dick Wolf does. If I did, they'd be a lot kissier.
Beta: the amazing Dev0347, who also owns the patent on "near fatal man flu syndrome".
Under the Weather
My girlfriend is the most amazing woman I've ever met.
She's the smartest person I know. She's by far the most beautiful person I know. She's strong and proud and, in the courtroom, she's an absolute dynamo. There is nothing that Alex Cabot cannot handle and cannot do.
Ever since we've started dating, I've felt like my head is in an absolute spin. The sex is amazing; the dates are amazing; she's amazing.
So, I have to confess that the last few days have been vaguely amusing to me; they shouldn't be, but they have been. Frustrating, but vaguely amusing. Because Alex Cabot can deal with anything that the justice system threw at her, she can deal with the basest scum on the earth and any hard-assed judge who stands in her way.
Apparently, though, she's completely lost when it came to dealing with what I like to term 'near-fatal man flu syndrome'.
Alex Cabot is no good at being sick.
It started with some sniffles which she ignored. I would have, too; I'm no better at taking time off work than she is. When her voice got a bit gravelly, she ignored that, too. I didn't so much because it was incredibly sexy.
I find her sexy at the worst of times. I find her more than sexy at the best of times. Alex Cabot with a gravelly voice makes me go weak at the knees.
Alex Cabot with no voice at all, however, turns out to be the one thing that Alex Cabot cannot handle. When she completely lost her voice, Alex fell to pieces. For starters, it's impossible to prosecute people in court when your voice is a tiny squeak at its best.
So, Donnelly pulled her off active duty and sent her home.
Second, when your entire raison d'etre is words, it's incredibly frustrating not to be able to get those out.
When I come through the door on Friday night, I'm not surprised to see her sitting at the table by the window, doing paper work. She's wearing a pair of sweats and one of my NYPD t-shirts. I don't know if she's done that on purpose because she knows it makes me want to lift her up against the wall and fuck her senseless.
Hell, given that she's been sick and we haven't had sex in four days, I want to do that as a matter of course. Four days is by far the longest that we've ever gone without sex. Alex hardly feels up to it, though, so I don't push. And, as tempted as I've been to take care of it myself, I haven't.
So, there she sits in her sweats and my t-shirt, hair pulled up in a ponytail with her perfect alabaster cheeks showing. There's a slight flush to them and I don't know if it's because she's still a little under the weather or if she's just warm.
She's chewing the end of her pen, which is adorable, although I find anything Alex does adorable, except when she yells at me; that, I don't find adorable so much.
When I click the door closed behind me, she looks up, her black-rimmed glasses shining in the light.
"Hey," she husks at me. Damn sexy.
"Hey," I smile back, dropping my bag by the door and shuffling out of my coat. I've had a long day and it's the end of a long week. I was called out four out of five nights and I finally have a weekend off. For tonight and the next two days, I am all hers, body and soul.
She puts her pen down and stretches, allowing my NYPD shirt to ride up and reveal even more white skin, over what I know are pretty spectacular abs. I try not to watch, knowing the effect it will have on me. I'm so tense right now, I think I could be used as a trampoline.
It's the combination of the week I've had and the fact that I'm frankly horny as hell.
She still looks like she's not feeling quite her normal self, though, so I'll soldier on like the chivalrous woman I am. I walk over to where she's sitting and drop a kiss on the top of her head. I love the smell of her shampoo, raspberries and cream.
My stomach tightens.
It flips when she leans her head into my stomach and I feel her hand on the back of my knee.
"Mmm, just glad to see you. This place is empty without you."
I look around Alex's cavernous apartment and smile. It's been a month since it officially became 'our' apartment. I know Alex's family have money, I know she didn't want any of it, and I know that the only reason she bought this apartment is because rent in New York can be obscene and it made sense to do so.
I know the only reason I agreed to move in was that I was spending nearly every night here anyway; I was sick of going home to get clothes and the idea of not holding her every night was simply unthinkable. So, I agreed.
She calls it 'our' apartment: I still think of it as hers.
I stroke her head companionably till my legs start to ache. I was on my feet most of today.
"Just gonna get changed."
"No, don't move," she whispers and turns her head into my stomach. It does some somersaults and I feel more than a twinge between my legs. My head, doing me no justice, pictures her sliding down, her tongue sliding down my abs and I take a deep breath.
She hears and pulls back, her blue eyes boring into mine as she looks up. I see her irises darken ever so slightly and know that I haven't fooled her. She knows what I'm feeling. For a second, I think a small smile is playing on her lips but it's so fleeting I may be mistaken.
"I want to get out of my street clothes," I say, keeping up the pretence and taking a step back.
She's no longer febrile but, when she says 'fine', it sounds just a bit like 'fide' and I know she's still feeling it, poor baby.
I pad off to the bedroom - our ridiculously large bedroom with a freaking walk-in closet - and change into jeans and a t-shirt. I don't know if it's subconscious when the t-shirt I pull on is a fairly tight one or that my jeans are low riders.
By the time I get back to the living room, Alex has moved to the couch and flicked on the television. She's curled up in one corner, feet tucked under her. They're bare. She hates shoes, hates socks, which is not something I'd expect from a woman with her shoe collection. Turns out, she just likes them to look good when she has to wear them but barefoot is her preference. I frown. She's sick. She shouldn't be letting her feet get cold.
She's turned on the news. I investigate a lot of the news, so I don't really like watching it, but she needs to keep up on events, especially political events. After all, her father is a Senator.
I'm fairly sure he doesn't like me, but Alex doesn't seem to care.
I sit down on the couch, not quite touching her, and lean back.
"What do you want for dinner?"
In my mind, she replies 'You' and my body tightens again. What she actually says is, "I already ordered Chinese, I figured you were home so late that you probably didn't feel like cooking. And I really didn't feel like cooking."
She's so right about me not feeling like cooking and I love Chinese. Good choice.
I grin at her, so she knows I'm happy, and stretch again. I settle on the opposite side of the couch. I can't help but grin again when she scrambles across to my side and proceeds to arrange us so that I'm holding her.
Suddenly my left leg is up on the couch, I'm sitting sideways against the arm, and she's cuddled down in between my legs, head leaning on my chest. If I wasn't so aroused, I'd be thrilled. Despite myself, my arms tighten around her and I kiss the top of her head again. I lay my cheek sideways on it and close my eyes, drowning out the noise of the television while I concentrate on my girl.
About ten seconds later, I stifle a groan. Her hip is pushing into me as she wriggles a little to get comfortable.
My Alex is not a needy person. She's independent, forthright, speaks her mind and, frankly, if anything, I'm the needier of the two of us. I'm actually enjoying her wanting me like this. I'm a sucker for cuddles, even though my hard-ass detective self would never admit it out loud.
I hear her content little sigh as she settles in and I smile, kissing the top of her head again. I close my eyes, enjoying her warmth and feeling weary. Whatever is droning on the television becomes just that, a drone, and for a few seconds I feel myself drifting off.
Until Alex wriggles again.
Her hip pushes straight into my centre and it takes everything I have not to moan. Suddenly, I'm anything but sleepy. I'm wet and my nipples are now hard as rocks. Her soft body is pushing against them and how she can't feel it I have no idea, but she seems completely oblivious to the effect she's having on me.
Damnation, I am such a horn-dog.
I feel bad. She's sick. She wants affection and warmth, cuddles and love, not me lusting over her like this. I should be able to go four days without sex. God knows that before Alex it was more like four years at one point.
It's just that she's so beautiful and, when she's close to me, I just can't help it, especially when she's pressing into me so delightfully. I tighten my arms, hugging her to me, and bring my second leg up on the couch, using my limbs to envelope her. It relieves the pressure just enough, while stopping her from wriggling.
"Love you," I murmur into her hair.
"Mmm," is her reply, as she cuddles further in, undoing all my good work at relieving the pressure.
I manage to maintain a dignified kind of poise, reminding myself that I really am a very chivalrous girl, for all of about ten minutes.
Then, her hand drops down to my thigh. It's safe touching, under the Universal Rules of Touching Someone Charter. She just gently runs her fingers up and down my thigh, near my knee. She's just being sweet.
It's fucking torture.
After five minutes of it, I'm practically holding my breath. I'm almost worried that some of my wetness will start seeping through the juncture of my jeans and she'll notice.
Christ, why does she have to be so sexy? Why does the mere act of her touching me have to make me so very, very hot?
Just when I think I can't take it any more she stops moving her fingers. Instead her hand flattens out on my thigh and by small degrees, I relax. Then her thumb starts up, just a gentle brushing, and I close my eyes.
It's nice. It feels really nice. It's relaxing. But it's also damn arousing and if she wasn't so cuddled in, and still snuffling, I'd have carried her to the bedroom by now.
When her hand starts scratching up and down my leg, I can't take it any more.
"You want something to drink?" I shift a little, scrambling for an excuse to get up, get some space, before I flip her over and make my desires very obvious. "I'm gonna grab some water."
"No, don't," she says, almost pathetically. "Stay here. I like you here." Her hand slides up my thigh to my waist and her other arm comes around, holding me, and effectively pinning me to the couch.
And by doing so, she pushes her whole body into me.
Holy. Mother. Of. Mackerel.
"Alex," I whisper.
I cup my hand around her head, sliding my fingers into her hair and hugging her close. I close my eyes, placing kiss after kiss on the top of her head and wishing to hell I didn't feel like I feel.
She pushes her body up into mine, burying her face in the crook of my neck and inhaling. Her warm breath on my skin does absolutely nothing to help me and I want to cry. I couldn't let her go now if I tried but, if I don't soon, I think I may literally explode.
It would be messy.
"Liv…" I hear her whisper.
It tickles my throat and, when I try to reply, my voice comes out choked. I clear and retry.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
There's another moment of blissful silence and painful arousal.
"When are you gonna give in and fuck me?"
I nearly fall off the couch. My arms tighten around her instinctively as I choke out, "What?"
She sits up and I see the glint in her eye and the knowing smile on her lips. "I can feel it, you know. It's practically radiating off you."
I'm breathing hard now, not even trying to hide it.
She leans in, pressing her lips to my ear. "It's okay…" Her hand grabs my wrist and guides it until it's pressed against her breast, straight over my NYPD t-shirt.
Her nipple is already hard.
"It's entirely mutual," she says huskily.
"Fuuuuuuuck," I groan. "You're still sick, baby."
She grins. "Yeah, but I'm not dead. And it's been four days. Do you know what that's like?"
Yes. Yes, I really, really do.
I pull her to me and kiss her, keeping it short but hard. My tongue sweeps against her mouth, brushing her lower lip until she opens hungrily. I suck that lip into my mouth before tangling my tongue with hers and then pulling back.
She stares at me, eyes darkened, cheeks flushed and panting. She grabs my hand and takes it straight down, pressing it into the junction of her thighs over her track pants.
There's an urgency in her voice that makes me quiver.
"Baby," I moan, and I know I'm lost. I roll us over so that she's pressed between the back of the couch and me, and I'm grateful that she owns the deepest couch I've ever seen. Grabbing her thigh, I drag it up over my body and press my knee up against her centre. When she bucks and cries out, I grin against her neck.
Her breathing is harsher than normal, reminding me that, despite her protestations and clear wishes, she's still not one-hundred-percent. Kissing her is gonna be a problem, though, because she can't breathe through her nose.
That's okay. I can get around that.
Instead, I kiss her everywhere else - her nose, her cheeks, her ear, her neck - while my hand shimmies up under her t-shirt.
She's not wearing a bra.
My hand cups her breast, thumbing across an already hard nipple and making her cry out. She bucks her hips against my thigh and cries out again. Her hands are on my hips, pulling me into her, and I feel her teeth on my shoulder.
I thumb a few more times, loving the way it makes her shake, and shift my mouth to next to her ear.
Cradling her head in the crook of my shoulder, I rake my teeth across the outside of her ear and then suck the lobe into my mouth.
I worry it with my tongue, matching the rhythm of my thumb and she makes encouraging noises.
Releasing it, I grin.
She's so easy. I know exactly how to turn her on and, although I'm not boasting, I can get her off in seconds if I need to; normally, the challenge is how to prolong it so that she doesn't come straight away.
Alex Cabot is putty in my hands.
I want her hot for me. I want her to be aching, wet and begging. Then, I want to make her scream.
"God I want you," I moan in her ear.
She pants into my shoulder, her body pushing against mine in a rhythm that's entirely primitive and I know is working wonders for her. In fact, I take my hand off her breast to grab her hips, stopping her from getting so much contact and making her give a little frustrated whine.
So. Damn. Cute.
I have better ideas than her grinding herself out on my thigh.
Words. Alex Cabot is a woman of words. And I know how to use them to my advantage when I want to.
"Are you wet for me, baby?" It drives her crazy when I talk to her in bed. And I love that my buttoned-down, Senator's daughter, slick-and-polished ADA of a girlfriend gets off on me talking dirty. "I want you wet for me. I want you so wet that, when I slide down and taste you, it's all I can feel."
She moans, bucking, but I'm still holding her hips and that frustrates her even more.
"I'm gonna kiss my way down your body, baby. And, when I get to your clit, I'm gonna make you come in my mouth."
"Liv!" It's practically a shout. Her hands are scrambling at my shirt and I can't believe we're both still fully clothed.
My words get more than just her hot. As I say these things, I imagine them and I'm so close to giving in and just doing them, but I want more. I want her to be that much needier.
"I like it when you come in my mouth. I like it when you clench around my fingers and come so hard." I nudge her ear with my nose. "Do you like that, baby?"
"Yessss," she hisses. "Oh God, yes."
I move again, startling her as I flip so that she's lying on her back and I'm over her. It takes only a few seconds for my t-shirt to be pushed up her body and then flung off her to one side.
Her perfect breasts, white with the duskiest pink rose nipples standing proud, greet me. Greedily, I drop my head and capture one in between my lips. One of Alex's hands finds my hair, gripping, pulling me into her. Her mouth makes the tiniest, most incredible noises as I suckle.
When I think she just can't take much more, I switch sides, worrying with my teeth and then soothing with my tongue. She's becoming more frantic by the second under me, so I drop my hands down to the waistband of her sweats and ease them down. They're across the room - following the t-shirt - very fast. Her long legs come up, wrapping around me and urging me down.
Her lips find mine, her kisses hungry as her hands slide under my shirt. Her nails rake at my back and I know she's so ready. My shirt has slid up, so when I press down, my stomach feels the wetness coming through her panties.
She pulls away, unable to breathe through our short kiss. I start kissing down her chin, her neck, down to her collarbone. I kiss a straight line down her sternum, kissing the edge of her ribs on the right and then smiling.
I bite down gently, suckle hard, and listen to her cry out before I pull back. She'll have a mark. She'll see it when she showers in the morning, getting dressed. She'll think of me and this moment and that makes me all the wetter.
Not that she hasn't already gotten me so far gone that I could probably orgasm from a stiff breeze.
I kiss down across her stomach. I love her stomach: flat; soft, white skin; so very sexy. When I get to the edge of her light blue underwear, I moan. She's so wet and her scent is alluring. I hook my fingers through the edges and pull them down, sweeping them along her thighs and then off.
I love it when Alex is naked. She's naked and mine and she wants it so badly.
"Baby, please!" The begging in her voice makes me grin. I kiss down along her thigh, curving around to the inside, teasing with my tongue but going nowhere near where she wants me.
I skip to her other thigh, licking, biting.
The hand in my hair tightens, trying to guide me back to exactly where she wants me. I relent and move to her centre. Spreading her lips, I moan at her wetness.
"Fuck, baby," I can't help but say. My tongue slides in to taste, just the tip, and she bucks her hips.
"Yes… Liv, yes…"
Not yet. I will, but not yet. I settle down, slipping my tongue down to her entrance and taste her. One of my arms is folded under me, supporting, and the other hand flattens on her stomach.
I like to feel her muscles contract as I lick her.
I thrust my tongue inside, loving the way she nearly screams. Her hips arch into me and I enter her. Gently, I fuck her entrance with my tongue and then I sweep it up till it hits her clitoris.
Back and forth, back and forth, in long sweeps I move from her entrance to the tight bundle of nerves she wants me to pay attention to. When I feel her tremble, shaking with need, and hear the whimpering pleas from above, I relent.
Sucking her clitoris into my mouth, I move my hand from her stomach to her entrance and without further ado, thrust two fingers deep inside her.
"Fuck!" It's so sexy when she swears. "Fuck-Liv-fuck-Liv-fuck-Liv… FUCK!"
I thrust, finding a rhythm that matches my tongue on her clitoris. My fingers curl and I can feel the tight walls around them start to contract slightly. In a few short seconds she falls, her hips bucking, her mouth yelling and her centre clenching around me as she grinds up into my face.
God, I love it when she does that.
When her tremors finally subside, I gently kiss my way back up her body, leaving my fingers buried deep inside her. My knee comes up to support my hand, as I lean over her, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose.
Her breathing is harsh, sweet against my face, and I wait for it to slow. Her blue, blue eyes open, looking at me in a way that's just so adorable.
Until I use my knee to force my fingers deeper inside her, curling up against just that spot I know she craves.
Her eyes widen, oh-so-fast, and she whimpers. I thrust - once, twice - and, after a third time, she comes again, crying out and arching into me, her lower lip quivering and her whole body quaking until if finally subsides.
I flex my fingers again and she twitches, but her hand finds my wrist.
Gently, so gently, I withdraw.
Jesus, that was sexy.
After a minute or so, she opens one blue eye to chance a look at me, followed by the other one.
"Mmmmm," she purrs, very contentedly.
I grin. "Yeah, I'm good."
Her legs come up to wrap around my hips and her fingers flex on my back. "Yeah… you are."
I drop a quick kiss on her mouth and she tightens her grip.
I want her. I want her so badly I could cry. But just having made her scream is enough for me. I'll probably have to take care of it later in the shower, but she hasn't been well, so I don't expect her to reciprocate.
Sometimes it's just nice to give.
Alex's hand creeps under my shirt and comes up to cup my breast over my bra. Her thumb caresses my nipple and I moan.
"Al…ex.. baby don't…"
"Don't?" She raises an eyebrow. "There's no way you mean that."
I realise my hips are jerking entirely of their own volition.
"You're… you don't… have to…" She keeps thumbing my nipple, making speech hard.
"What if I want to?" Her husky voice is so fucking sexy.
"You… can't… breathe… nose… fuck." The last word comes when she slips her knee up against the juncture of my jeans and I nearly fall down on her. "Alex… Christ…"
Her hands go to my belt, unsnapping, then to the button and zip. One of her hands slips between us, flat against my stomach and sliding down. She's on top of my underwear but under my jeans and when she finds how wet I am she groans.
Suddenly, my jeans are around my knees, and I'm up on two elbows helping her get them down. She doesn't wait though, pushing my underwear down and her hand is between my legs.
"God, you get so wet, Liv."
I get my eyes open for a second and see her biting her lower lip in pleasure. My eyes fall closed again when she slides a little lower and her middle and ring fingers slowly push inside me.
A minute, that is all it's going to take: one damn minute. I'm so close already.
After two thrusts, she pushes the palm of her hand up against my clitoris and I cry out. I'm leaning over her, resting on one knee and my outstretched hands. She pumps into me and I shudder. It feels so good, she feels so good. The pleasure builds in my centre.
Then she slides a third finger inside me, increasing her pace as the heel of her hand hits me over and over and I come. Hard.
It's all I can do not to collapse on top of her. I make it to my elbows and hold myself there, shaking, her hand dislodged by my fall.
It becomes too much, holding myself up, so I let myself down to one side on my elbow and nearly fall off the couch. Alex grabs me and moves, so that she's lying with her back to the back of the couch and I can cuddle in front of her. My pants are still around my ankles, but I'm too beat to kick them off.
Her arms come around me as I nuzzle into her shoulder, kissing gently and sighing. When I feel one hand slide down and squeeze my ass, I hoist myself up on an elbow again to look down with a raised eyebrow.
"I like your ass."
"Mmm, it's an excellent ass."
I chuckle and she stretches, clearly very content.
"I think you just found a cure for the common cold," she informs me.
"Oh really?" I grin. "Sex is a cure for the common cold?"
"Works for me. I feel much better."
I don't point out that 'me' came out much more like 'be' and that she still sounds husky. It's too adorable. Anyway, she can sniffle away next to me for a few days.
I'm about to lie back down again when I hear the doorbell go. My eyes go wide, because she's completely naked and my bare ass is hanging out in the air.
"Chinese," Alex says. "It's dinner."
Shit! Delivery boy.
I stand up, way too fast, get my pants tangled around my feet and go ass-over-teakettle. She just bursts out laughing.
Glaring at her, I stand up, pulling my pants up, buttoning them furiously as the bell goes again. I look down at her and stare pointedly until she realises she's naked. She grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and covers herself.
Running a hand through my hair, I approach the door.
"Miss Cabot… Miss Cabot." It's Rajesh from downstairs, the doorman. "I have your take-out."
Hoping I don't look too much like someone who just got fucked on the couch, I open the door and smile.
"Ah, Miss Benton," he grins. He never gets my name right. "Dinner."
"Thanks, Rajesh." I take the proffered bag and try not to think about where the hand has been. Digging in my pocket with the other hand, I find a tip and hand it over.
"Bon Apetit!" he says, in the most ludicrously put-on Indian accent I've ever heard. I know it's fake: he was born in Queens.
I close the door and lean against it.
"Babe?" I hear from over the back of the couch.
"In my hand."
"Why isn't it here?" Aaah, there's my slightly demanding girlfriend, the one I really have missed.
"Coming, Alex… it's coming."
There's a small silence as I walk over towards the couch, and at the last minute I hear a snicker, followed by, "I think it already did."