A/N: Final bit of advice. Hope it's...good.

DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf own SVU and the characters; TStabler© owns the story you're about to read.

She smiled, looking up at him from her desk. She noticed he had a goofy grin on his face, and he hid a chuckle as he brought one hand up to his head and tugged lightly on his left ear.

She raised an eyebrow at their silent signal, the one that would tell the other when they were feeling a little playful. How, she wondered, could he be ready for her again? They'd been up since five in the morning, devouring each other in every way possible, making them late for work. It was only seven thirty, they'd only finished their romping an hour ago, and here he was, telling her he wanted her again.

He nodded once, telling her she read the signal right, and he leaned forward a bit as he picked up a pen and pretended to get to work.

She shook her head, wondering what she could do for him, but they were at work, men from IAB were in Cragen's office discussing policies and regulations, and most certainly talking about them, there was no way they could sneak off together.

Stilling behind her desk, she sighed. She needed to talk to someone who might be able to give her a few ideas. Slowly, she got up and dropped the file in her hands back onto her desk. "I'll be back in a few," she said out loud to the squad room.

He looked at her, wondering where she was going, and his eyes followed her out through the doors. Confused and concerned, he stared after her for a full minute. His mind was on her, but thoughts were interrupted as his desk phone rang.

He cleared his throat and picked up the receiver. "Special Victims, Detective Stabler," he said mechanically, readying himself to take notes about a new case. "Hello?" he prodded after being met with just heavy breathing.

Then, he heard a soft moan, which a rookie would have taken as painful. He knew better. He knew what kind of sound that was. He couldn't help the twitching of his dick as it stirred to life, growing hard with each sound the caller made. He was in a bit of trouble.

"I'm a very busy guy, lady," he said, trying to put an end to this before it went too far. His eyes narrowed when the voice on the other end spoke in barely a whisper. "Excuse me?" he said, an eyebrow arched.

He looked around, then scooted his chair closer to his desk. His eyes darkened a bit, and narrowed more as his voice dropped. "You want to do what with my what now?"

Pulling his chair tighter under the desk, he gasped. He tugged on his tie and cleared his throat again, knowing that he shouldn't be letting this woman get to him, what she was saying, though, was making him crazy. "I'm, um, I'm just a detective, Ma'am," he choked. "I...I don't think I can help you with..."

He was cut off as she said something vulgar, something wicked. "Jesus Christ," he mumbled. "Where are you?" he whispered. He nodded and moved, but stopped suddenly, the wonton voice told him to. "Okay," he said, easing back into his chair.

His eyes closed, small beads of sweat formed on his forehead and neck, his heart was pounding. The woman on the phone was moaning, harder and louder, and she was telling him exactly what was making her make those noises. "You are..." he couldn't get the words out, his air supply was limited as he was trying not to moan or curse, sitting in his chair at work.

The throbbing in his pants was intense, the sweat was pooling under his collar, and he was hearing things he'd never thought he'd ever hear from anyone, let alone...her. He tugged on his belt, tugged on his jacket, and gritted his teeth. "Where are you?" he asked, his jaw clenched and his tone slightly angry.

He slammed the phone down, and without saying a word, he rose from his seat and bolted out of the bullpen. He raced down the hall and up the steps to his left, taking them two by two until he reached the eighth floor. He kicked open the landing door and looked around, his heart racing and blood near boiling.

Heading down a hallway, he ripped off his tie, tore away his shirt, loosened his belt. He left a trail of clothes in his wake as he moved, trying to find her. Closing his eyes, he moved as he concentrated on listening for her breathing, following the scent of her shampoo, her perfume, her arousal.

He blindly reached a hand around a corner, and grabbed the smooth round shoulder of the woman he was seeking. "You," he growled, tearing at her clothes, "Are in so much trouble."

Gasping softly, she turned, the phone was on the floor at her feet, her eyes were glassy, she was flushed and obviously waiting for him. "Am I?" she asked coyly.

He nodded as he threw her against the wall and shoved her black pants around her hips. "You are," he mumbled, nipping at her neck as he pressed into her, his chest against hers, his hips pinning hers to the wall behind her.

"You took longer than I thought," she teased, running a long finger down his chest. "Why?"

"You kept telling me not to come find you," he garbled, his lips teasing the flesh just above her right nipple. "Why?" She moaned, in person this time, sending shivers up his spine. "God, that noise."

She chuckled, then, and spread her legs a bit, knowing what he was readying to do. "You like that?"

He nodded, his forehead rubbing against her skin as he inched into her slowly. "You told me...Jesus, Liv, you feel amazing. You told me this was one you wouldn't do. That it was too risky. Phone sex at work? The gym, where anyone could...fuck!" He'd sunk into her completely, his pelvis meeting hers.

She seethed at his intrusion, but smiled. "You needed it," she said. "I think we both did. We don't know what's going on in that office, what they're saying, what they're deciding...I thought getting out, getting away and being together would..."

He shut her up, covering her mouth with his, kissing her madly as he began thrusting hard and deep. Running his hands down her arms, he linked their fingers and he brushed his thumb over her ring. He said something.

It was silent, barely audible, but she returned his sentiment and curled a leg around his waist.

Grabbing her, he pulled her tighter, and buried his head in her neck as he moved slowly. "This could be so danger..."

"It won't be," she interrupted with a soft moan. "Here. Now. It won't be."

He smiled and let out a light laugh. "My girl," he whispered, then kissed her tenderly as he picked up his pace. He knew their professional future together was uncertain now, but their personal life was solid and heading steadily toward happily ever after.

They'd taken a lot of advice, from everyone they knew and a magazine that was more fodder and fun than helpful. It had all led to this stolen moment, the pair of them making the most of the precinct gym while no one was there, all while their jobs hung in the balance, careers lying in someone else's hands.

He moaned a bit louder and kissed her a bit deeper, proving to her that none of it mattered. He was taking his own advice now and preparing to bow out gracefully, choosing her over the job as he always has. He knew if it came down to it, he could and would do it again.

As if reading his mind, she shook her head. "We'll be fine," she whispered, kissing him as she clenched around him. "We will always be just fine."

He laughed again, moving faster and harder, letting go of the seriousness he tried to bring into the moment. "Yeah?"

She bit her lip, her head dropped back. "Yeah," she moaned. "God, yeah."

"Okay," he grunted. "I believe you." He held his body rigid and hooked her legs with his arms, lifting her up as he kept up his thrusting, recalling the final suggestion from the magazine they'd somehow lost. It occurred to him, then, that they didn't really need it. They were so in tune with each others wants, needs, desires, and fantasies, that the advice they'd been given was simply to have the courage to do what they'd wanted and go after what they needed. Each other.

And that, small as it was, was the best advice anyone could have given them.

A/N: So...do they remain partners? Is one of them transferred? Are they both? I'm leaving this story a bit open ended, I want each of you to be happy with the professional outcome, as it was not the focus of the story. I have given them their personal finale, and I'm pretty happy with it. The choice for the rest of it, large as it is, is yours. Remember: whatever ending you choose, it is the ending that the author intended. Thanks for reading.