DISCLAIMER: Law & Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters are the property of NBC and Dick Wolf.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is set in my "Shortstop" universe, but is fine as a stand-alone.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

By Scribe's Quill


"Casey, what are we doing? We've searched for 20 minutes and I never even saw a fly ball go out here! I'll BUY Hennessey a new damned ball," I grouse. I'm tired and I just want a beer after that long practice.

For some reason, you smirk, and then look all around the softball field before finally answering.

"Alright, Liv. We can give it up. Come on." You grab my hand and take off running. I am too shocked to argue and just try to keep up. Running after my long-legged girlfriend as she very happily sprints back toward the diamond is not something I was prepared for at this moment.

You stop near third base and drop my hand. You disappear behind the solid backstop, and re-emerge on the first base side a moment later, beaming.

"Casey, what the hell?"

Without a word you come up and take my hand again. You lead me down into the dugout on the third base side, where our whole team had been joking after practice not a half hour before. Now, it is deserted, as is the field, except for three sports bags.


"Look Casey, someone left their bag." I start toward it to check for an ID.

"Nope, that would be mine," you say, stopping me.

"Oh," I say, perplexed.

"Do you remember a certain conversation after a certain 'special meeting' late at night at the court house?" You unzip the bag and look up at me.

I am not someone who blushes. But the memory of that night has the heat creeping up my neck toward my cheeks. You grin at me. I know you love seeing me blush.

I clear my throat which is suddenly scratchy.

"Uh, what conversation was that?" Apparently, I have post-orgasm memory loss. I zone out briefly, enjoying what I DO remember about that night.

"Olivia." Your velvety voice brings me back to the present. It is then that I notice several yoga mats lying side by side on the ground. You have a blanket in your hands and begin spreading it over them.

"Case, what…?" Then my brain supplies what I could not consciously recall before now.

We both lay panting on the couch in Judge Petrovsky's chambers.

"I can't believe we just did that." I manage.

"I can't believe you wanted to do that here!" You laugh.

"What can I say? Knowing that she'll never know that I fucked your brains out in her office is totally hot. It's like holding something over her, without the retribution."

You laugh again as you reach for your clothes. "Just remember that you owe me. No matter what my fantasy is…"

I grab you around the waist and pull you back on top of me. You are giggling.

"Whatever you want," I promise.

"THIS is your fantasy?" I really can't believe it. My arms are actually akimbo and flailing around, indicating the dugout and field.

You take no offense.

"Mmmhmm." You saunter toward me. "Ever since you agreed to join the team." You trace your fingers across my shoulders and down my arms, eventually interlacing our fingers. "I've just been waiting for Elliot to not want to go out for beer afterwards. That man can be such a cockblock."

I throw back my head and laugh at the prospect of telling him that, but stop as your mouth finds my throat. I am soon humming with pleasure as your lips whisper across my pulse.

"What about…" I start to ask, worried about getting collared for public indecency.

"Don't worry. This is private land. I checked," you say into my skin. "We're blocked from view down here. " A few more kisses. "And nobody ever comes here unless there's a game." My resistance is stolen by your lips and I sigh.

Your tall frame presses into mine as you make your way up to my mouth, knowing I have relented.

Every time you kiss me, I am amazed at how soft your lips are. Not just in texture, though they are smooth. No, what stuns me is the amount of quiet passion you can put into the lightest contact of your lips on mine. With barely any pressure at all, I am reeling. I could kiss you for hours.

As my thoughts briefly wandered – though definitely not far – you slowly deepened that kiss into something that promises even greater things to come. I move my hands up and around your trim waste, holding you close. We stand there for long minutes, exploring mouths tangled in a familiar dance. I soon feel your hands at my back, sneaking under my t-shirt to glide across flesh.

I groan softly at the contact. Your lips wander to my jaw briefly before you gather the fabric in your hands and begin to lift it. My stomach is revealed and you place a soft kiss there. You raise my shirt higher and higher, slowly following its trail with your lips: my ribs, the top of my breast, my collarbone, my tricep. Once my face has reappeared from under the cotton, you return to my mouth, kissing hungrily. The skin of your arms is burning into my torso.

Impatient to taste your beautiful skin, I pull back from the kiss and tug your shirt off quickly. I am stopped in my tracks by what lies underneath. Instead of a sports bra like the one I am currently clad in, you are wearing a forest green cotton bra that may as well have been silk and lace in this setting.

You smile. "One of the advantages of not being quite as well-endowed as you are: I can wear regular bras when playing sports, if I feel like it. I usually don't, but tonight was special."

"Gorgeous," I breathe, quickly wrapping you in my arms and descending on the creamy skin of your chest. You don't let me have the upper hand for long, though, as you are soon sliding your hands under my waistband, dragging your hands deliberately across my backside until loose shorts fall to the ground.

"Mmmm," you purr as I nibble at your collarbone. "Let's get you out of those sliders."

This could be awkward. The compression shorts are hard enough to get on without falling over.

It seems you've thought of this particular dilemma. You turn me around and back me toward the little improvised bed you've made on the floor of the dugout. I take the hint and sit, and you drop slowly to your knees in front of me.

You kiss me again and lower me down so that I'm lying on my back. You straddle me so our pelvises touch, briefly pressing down and drawing a long moan from me. Your hands trail down my sides and fingers hook the snug elastic at my waist. You lock eyes with me as you slowly peel the shorts off of my legs, scooting backwards as necessary to get them all the way off. When you turn to disentangle them from my feet, I take the opportunity to divest myself of my sports bra.

Pleasure floods your eyes as you discover that I'm already nearly naked when you turn back around. You practically pounce on me, kissing me fiercely until I am once again lying down with you atop me. I try to get your shorts off, but our position makes it impossible. I groan in frustration and settle for plunging my hands beneath the offending garment and gripping your ass.

You break away from my lips. "Problem, Detective?" You say saucily.

I give another squeeze and thrust my hips upward. Your eyes roll back at the sensation. "Good point," you deadpan. You extricate my hands and pull us both up to our feet. I quickly attack your shorts, giving you a wink as I hold you around the waist with one arm and tug downward with my other hand. You laugh as you try and stay on your feet through my less-than-gentle maneuver. Eventually victorious, I stand and twirl the difficult garment on my finger.

"Liv," you chuckle. "I wish I had a camera."

I look down at myself. I am wearing nothing but my underwear and my cleats. I look up, and notice you are in the same predicament, but you have your bra and your sliding kneepads on, too. We catch each others' eyes and start to laugh.

"Fuck, we're hot," I guffaw, plunking myself down on the bench and untying a shoelace. Still laughing, you nod and join me. We soon have our footwear off and you're tugging on one of the kneepads to get it over your ankle.

"Allow me," I say and kneel in front of you. I slowly pull the kneepad off, chuckling a little when it inevitably puts up a struggle. "These things like being on your legs too much," I joke and kiss your knee as my hands work. Finally finished, I pull you to your feet without rising to mine. "Can't say I blame them." A gentle pull brings your thigh in range, and my mouth descends upon it. My hands are each holding the back of one thigh just firm enough to let you know that I want you to stay where you are. You lovingly card your fingers through my hair and smile down at me when our gazes unite.

When my journey brings me to your panties, I nuzzle along their edges with my nose. I grip one side of the green cloth with my teeth and begin to drag them downward.

"Damn, Liv," you rasp out. I grin to myself, knowing how much you love it when I do things with my teeth. I continue at my task and know what's coming as soon as I'm done. I enjoy making you the impatient one every once in a while. I am ready for the soft shove you give to cause me to tumble back onto the blanket, your underwear clenched in my teeth.

You confiscate them and toss them behind you before crushing your lips to mine and placing my hands on your breasts. I don't complain. Nor do I stop you when you hurriedly strip me of my underwear. Your tongue duels mine all the while. When your palms have safely planted themselves on my cheeks, I take the opportunity to undo the clasp of your bra. You quickly get rid of that, too.

Knowing exactly what you want at this point, I lay back and hold you to me. You stretch your lithe form out on mine and release a whimper into my mouth at the total skin contact. My hands trail down your smooth back and once again stop on your ass, rubbing suggestively. You grin into our kiss and slip one thigh between mine.

"Uh uh, Detective. I get to start us off here." You speak from low in your throat because you know the timbre turns me on like nothing else. "You're going to have to be happy with being on deck." You emphasize your point by bringing your hand down and massaging my curls. One finger grazes a very sensitive spot and a tremor wracks my entire frame.

In an attempt to hold it together for at least a few more minutes, I manage to utter a few words. "Tell me why this is your fantasy."

You look at me as you think on it a little, your lips slightly pursed in a way that coaxes out the dimple in your left cheek. Your hand stays right where it is, leisurely teasing me higher and higher. I'm not going to last five minutes at this rate.

"Well, there is the semi-public setting that adds to the excitement," you begin. "Then there's the outdoors aspect, which I've always enjoyed, though that is usually only advisable in the wilderness." You blessedly remove your hand - and allow me to calm down a little bit – when you stretch your hands behind your head and pull your hair out of its ponytail. Your torso elongates, your breasts point skyward, and the muscles in your arms work before your hair tumbles down around your shoulders.

Damn. And you seem completely unaware. Double damn.

Your task done, you continue, "But to be honest, the first time I saw you field a ball, I knew I had to have you here." Maybe I should have thought my question through a little better. Your low husk combined with this subject matter is not soothing my desire at all. Oh God, now you've bent over me again.

"I love to watch your eyes calculate. I love the way your muscles stand out as you move. I only wish I played left field so that I could stare at your ass the whole game, too." Between words, your goal seems to be to drive me insane. You are roaming all over my torso, kissing with your lips, tantalizing with your tongue, teasing with your nose, and tickling with your hair.

Satisfied with your explanation, you occupy your mouth by surrounding my nipple with it, sucking softly as you stroke it with your tongue. I gasp and arch into you, clutching at your shoulders. As you move to my other breast, your hand slips down once again.

"Fuck, Liv," I twitch. I love it when you curse. "You're so wet." I lift the thigh that is between your legs, pressing against your center in answer. It was supposed to be retaliatory, but I realize a moment too late that I opened myself further to you. You counter by entering me.

"Ah, Case," I moan. You begin a languid tempo, working a slow dance in me as you enmesh our mouths again. I stroke any skin that I can reach, wanting to show my appreciation. But as you gradually accelerate your thrusting, I resign myself to vocal adoration.

"Yes, Casey. Oh, yes. Oh. Oh." Soon I am just panting and whimpering, no longer able to really recognize any words that I may be forming. You seem to know exactly where to touch to keep me at the highest precipice without sending me over. You don't always use that knowledge, saving the sweet torture for very special occasions. Tonight, you have me pleading incoherently.

"Case…plea…oh fuck…oh fuck…please…I can't… Case…Case…Case." Each syllable is punctuated by a whine or moan or shudder. My whole body is screaming, unable to bear any longer being coiled so tight. You cover my mouth with yours and relent, stroking the spot that causes me to cry out into your depths.

The next thing I am aware of, you are stroking my face and whispering my name.

"Olivia, baby, come on," I open my eyes to see concern in yours. My body is still trembling.

"There you are. As incredibly flattered as I am, you had me worried for a second."


"Huh?" I will my arms to move to embrace you but they don't.

You chuckle softly, "You passed out."

"Damn. That's never happened before." I finally get my arms to obey my commands. I bring my hand to your cheek. "You. Are. Good."

You blush a little, but smirk brashly. "I can honestly say I've never had that happen either. But what an ego boost. I made the illustrious Olivia Benson, hard-ass cop, faint like a Victorian woman with the vapors." Your laughter bubbles up and turns my objection into a confident leer.

"Oh really? Well, I guess I need to earn my reputation back then, don't I?" I flip us over so I am astride you and grin mischievously.

Your face darkens with lust as you look up at me and say, "I'll certainly enjoy the effort."

"Damn straight," I say with a grin and kiss you hard.

Just then, the lights for the softball field shut off with a loud kachuck. "Shit!" I exclaim.

"Don't worry, they're on a timer," You say. You roll beneath me and grab the bag that once held our current bed. "I got kind of distracted before setting these out." You pull out a few three-wick candles and hand them to me. I realize that you can't reach the bench in your current position and chuckle a little. I place them on the metal bench and light them with the Bic you give me. Their soft glow provides plenty of light to see by, surprisingly enough.

You shove the bag away and grab my hips. "Where were we? Ah, yes. Reputations."

"Reputations," I concur.

I lean down for another kiss and tease the underside of your breasts with my thumbs, my hands curled around your ribs. I move to your earlobe, softly biting and soothing with teeth and tongue. Your happy groans encourage me as I make my way along your magnificent jaw line with my tongue. I playfully nip at your chin before moving down along your jugular and dipping into your clavicle.

Your hands weave into my hair as my mouth finds your breasts. I take my time here, loving the taste of your skin, the feel of it on my cheek, the little mewls you make when I switch between fingers and lips. I make my way down to your belly button and dip my tongue in. It makes you giggle, as it always does, and I smile.

"I love that you do that," I say softly. I continue to kiss all over your abdomen: soft little breaths of kisses.

"Mmm, do what?"

"Laugh, all the time," I reply and lay my cheek on your belly. "It makes me happy."

You rise up on one elbow and stroke my hair. "And you don't know how happy it makes me that I can do that for you."

You pull my head up for a soft kiss, full of love and desire. After a few moments, I lay you back down and enter you gently.

Your long, low moan into my mouth parts our lips and I murmur, "Now, about the whole passing out thing: how did you do that?"

You grin, but I see you struggling to form words. "Wouldn't you like…oh…to know?"

"Hmm. I'll just have to conduct my own experiments, then." I continue to stroke inside you and add the pressure of my thumb on your clit.

"Ah, fuck," You hiss.

"Hmm, very interesting," I say, smirking. You have your eyes slammed shut and don't notice.

I move down your body, not stopping my fingers in their ministrations. Your hips are starting to move in time with them. I resume my "scientific" endeavor.

I raise one of your knees up into an angle. You moan at the change in position. "I wonder what would happen if I…" I open my mouth and place it high on your calf, scraping my teeth on your flesh until they meet with a soft click.

"Mmm." I hear your smile in the sound somehow.

"Maybe…" I perform the same action on your inner thigh.

Your leg twitches, drawing a grin from me.

"Almost, but not quite was I was going for." I repeat the maneuver one more time, this time on the skin where your leg meets your hip. You moan and buck.

"There we go," I growl, making sure you can hear me. I wait for you to laugh, and I drag my tongue over the place my thumb was previously occupying. The sound you make is unbelievable, and I hope I can cause it again.

I finally begin to increase the movement of my fingers while I maintain a slow rhythm with my tongue. You are now arching your back, your long arms allowing your hands to reach my head so your fingers can tangle in my hair. Constant entreaties pour from you.

I slow my fingers until they are stopped. In time with one last long lick, I slide them out of you. Your whimper plays across my ears and I almost rethink my plan.


I crawl my way back up so that our mouths are level. Your eyes are closed and you are breathing heavy in frustration. I drag my tongue across your lips, and then plunge it between them, sweeping it across your soft palette. In the meantime, I straddle one of your strong thighs and press down, my moist heat there causing you to moan.

"This is how happy you make me," I say, slowly moving. You open your eyes and the hunger there catches me off guard. You bring your hands up to my breasts, caressing them gently. I lean over you to look into your eyes, supporting myself on my elbows, fully encompassing you with my body.

I keep moving, the pleasure of the friction and your hands combining to nearly bring me to the edge again. I reach my hand down to slowly stroke your clit again, holding your gaze all the while. I feel myself get very close. I close my eyes and say simply, "Watch."

This climax is not nearly as intense as the last. I am able to hold myself up as I imagine your eyes on me, watching me shudder. I regain my faculties quickly and before you know what I am going to do, I thrust into you once again. You cry out in pleasure and surprise.

I whisper words of love in your ear as I stroke you into a frenzy once more. This time, I don't stop or change a thing. I keep thrusting, working hard to hit every spot that makes you say my name. I feel you begin to clamp down around me, and I use my thumb to press down hard on your clit as I curl my fingers inside you.

"Liv! Ah!" You are screaming, and I put my mouth over yours to muffle the sound. You continue to writhe and buck. I draw out your ecstasy as long as I can, until you are panting and sweating beneath me.

"Fuck me!" you say, flinging your hand over your eyes.

I move my thumb over you lightly and say, "If you're ready to go again…" with amusement in my voice.

"No," you cry as your hips surge at my light touch. "Give a girl a break, would you?"

I gently extricate myself from you and lay down, chuckling. "You said something about fainting and vapors earlier?"

"After that, you could faint a hundred times and not have to prove a thing," you sigh and turn into my arms. "You are officially hard-ass Olivia Benson again."

I give you a cocky grin. "Good. And don't you forget it."

"Oh, there's no chance of that happening." You give me a squeeze. "As soon as my legs are working properly, we should get up. I don't want to fall asleep here. I don't think that 'hard-ass' title will do you any good if we get thrown in the pokey naked."

I laugh. "Would you call it 'the pokey' next time you threaten a perp? Please?"

You expel a bark of laughter as you roll over and sit up. "Not a chance."

The End

Return to Law & Order: SVU Fiction

Return to Main Page