DISCLAIMER: The story is mine, characters are not. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: There must be something very wicked about this pairing when my Muse volunteers for smut all by herself. That never happens. Usually, I have to beat it out of her. But obviously, these two ignite the naughty spark in her. Well, in me too. This one is for Race, because I love her.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Breaking into Pieces
By Kristina K


Abbie tilts her head back against the cushions and then exhales in – what could only be interpreted as a relieved gasp – when Olivia decides that she had enough pleasantries for one evening and gets down to business of being rough. From the look of her, Abbie never would have thought that the detective could be so gentle and attentive like she usually was. The first time it happened she thought Olivia would swoop over her and then forget their encounter ever happened, and with that she was wrong. Whenever the ADA's evening ended up in the company of a certain special victim's detective, and with reasonable amount of privacy, regardless of if it was an obscured booth in the back of a restaurant or a club, dark alleyway just off of Abbie's building or the cramped interior of Olivia's car, the tenderness at which Abbie's face got cradled in Olivia's hands was remarkable. That would then lead to a kiss, although regularly deep and possessive on the detective's part, but not any less gentle than the caress that preceded it. The sex, however, carried a whole other set of rules.

So when Olivia's arm hooked under Abbie's knee and then with half an effort pulled her lower on the couch, first Abbie chuckled at the detective's eagerness and then groaned agreeably at the sight of fire in Olivia's eyes.

Olivia doesn't waste time with taking her clothes off, she never does. Abbie could count on the fingers of one hand how many times she actually saw Olivia fully naked, and at first she thought the detective was being shy until she discovered how this denial of skin visible and available to her lovers equaled a power trip for the detective. On the other hand, having Abbie spread out in all her glory never seemed to be a problem to Olivia. Quite the contrary, it was mandatory.

It could be counted in thousands of dollars, the amount of clothes Olivia ruined by tearing at the seams and ripping of the buttons. And when Olivia once again reaches for Abbie's shirt and then travels with her fingers from Abbie's throat, down to her breasts, Abbie knows this is the last time she'll be wearing this particular shirt and then silently – and only for a brief moment – scolds herself for wearing it tonight. The ripping sound makes Abbie's chest heave with delicious apprehension while the sight of Olivia's tightened jaw and dark eyes makes her wet in a second. She had many lovers before but none of them were so intense and driven like this one is. None of them seemed to be so cool and uninterested at one moment only to devour her like a raging flame the very next. The last time she and Olivia spent an evening like this together, Abbie's boss asked her the next morning if she caught a cold or something, that's how coarse her voice was, and it was all Olivia's doing.

Abbie tries to steal a moment and reaches for Olivia's belt to undo it while the other woman's tongue leaves a hot and wet trail down the side of her neck. Abbie smiles in triumph when the belt buckle clinks loosely and then six buttons make a muffled pop sound every time each of them comes undone. Nothing sounds quite so thrilling – Abbie notices – like when Olivia groans appreciatively into her hair after Abbie's hand slides past the waistband of the detective's underwear and then two fingers dip into the wetness between Olivia's legs. She's not sure who is enjoying the sensation more; Olivia, whose hips start a slow and steady rhythm or she, who for once managed to exceed the eager detective and gets to run the show for a while.

Abbie's shirt is tugged off of her and then her bra follows right behind. Olivia's smile is feral and her hips press Abbie's deep into the couch one. Fierce. Thrust. At. The. Time. With her one hand busy between Olivia's thighs, Abbie buries fingers of her other into the detective's shaggy hair. Holding a fistful, Abbie tugs on the cropped tresses firmly but gently until Olivia's eyes get so dark and narrow Abbie can see the release building up in them.

When Olivia's eyes finally completely close, and one last powerful thrust morphs into a gasping shudder, Abbie pulls her closer so Olivia's face nuzzles the crook of her neck as hot and labored breaths start to slow down against her skin.

It's not long until the breaths develop into nips and then open-mouthed kisses, and Abbie can feel Olivia squirming against her, bidding her hand out of her underwear which Abbie, albeit reluctantly, complies with. Both of her arms then get caught in a firm hold above her head and all Abbie can hope for is that Olivia is preparing for yet another display of power, something the ADA craved for pretty much since the first time the gentle kisses goodnight evolved into bumping against the walls, walking blindly through the darkened apartment in an urgent embrace and then ending up on a big leather couch in Abbie's living room.

She's not going to be left disappointed, if she was to judge by the way Olivia effortlessly kept her both arms restrained with one hand while the other one kneaded on her exposed breasts, and with such dexterity, too. Olivia's lips are, at that point, impossible to follow. She leaves a trail of hot kisses wherever there is even an inch of exposed skin, and soon there is even more of it because her pants are now undone, pulled off and tossed aside in one quick motion. With her arms now free, Abbie reaches for Olivia who slides down the length of her body and nestles herself cozily at the foot of the couch, conveniently enough, between the ADA's legs.

The mere sight of the detective's eyes and the flare in them make Abbie's breath catch in her lungs and when Olivia's head actually ducks down, granting herself access to a slow and generous swipe of tongue over burning wet flesh, Abbie's back lifts above the cushions in one taut and high arch while her fingers claw for something, anything to keep her grounded.

"Jesus." Abbie hisses in that low and rich way Olivia always thrived on, flexing her fingers against the back of the couch and deeply lacing them with Olivia's hair. That woman will one day tear her into pieces, Abbie thought, luscious, sated pieces, by the way her tongue and fingers easily manipulated her body into a ravaging daze.

Neither one of them was much for the dirty talk, but there was certainly something very gratifying in the fact that the usually well-mannered, Southern-bred, lady-like assistant district attorney of Abbie's repute felt the need to line up a pretty impressive string of profanities just when two nimble fingers come to join a very busy tongue between the ADA's legs driving her to the point of madness with their force and talent.

Feeling as if her chest is about to explode, Abbie gulps for air and just when she thinks she's safe, the clench of muscles claims her entire body and all that air gets expelled right out from her lungs in one long and very unexpectedly loud scream. She usually voices Olivia's name when she comes. It sounds like a mantra that starts in slow appreciative moans, then the name strings together only to be broken down by occasional gasp, until it peaks in a groaning, almost wolf-like voice, accentuated with a sporadic affirmative and a hissed fuck! This time she calls out to god as well, more times than she calls out to Olivia herself, and those affirmatives never seem to stop even after the orgasm washes over her and then dissipates in a glorious feeling of exhaustion.

"What time is it?" When Abbie manages to open her eyes, Olivia is face to face with her, her eyes as dark and breathtaking as ever.

"Who cares?" Abbie breathes out.

Shuffling to her feet, Olivia searches the room for a clock. When she finds it, the red glowing digits tell her that it is quarter after three in the morning. "Shit."

"I'm the one who needs to be in court early in the morning, not you, Detective." Abbie watches as Olivia tucks her shirt into her jeans and then does up the buttons and refastens the belt. Still, she has no ability nor will to move a muscle.

"I have a case file to go over and then I made plans with Elliot to go for a run before work." She states simply. "I'll stay over next time."

Abbie smiles, trying not to show how she really feels, "You always say that."

With a cocky grin, Olivia looks down at her lover's exposed body, and takes in the sight of the still hot, heaving and shiny from sweat assistant district attorney. "And you always believe me." She says and then leans down to plant a chaste kiss against Abbie's lips.

When the door closes behind Olivia's back and only the sound of her feet tumbling down the stairs disturbs the silence of the early morning, Abbie realizes it's not the obscured encounters, not the forcefulness of their lovemaking is what's going to tear her into pieces, it's the fact that Olivia never stays and the fact that Abbie never stops believing, one day, Olivia would give in.

The End

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