DISCLAIMER: sadly we cannot have everything-- therefore, I don't own the ladies or other characters, I merely use them as I wish and get a great deal of enjoyment out of it.
SPOILERS: This is all post-loss. Occaisionally flashbacks will involve details from various episodes (ex. Abuse, and a few others)
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

The Return
By Sarie

Chapter Twenty-Six: Suicide


By the time we reach the station I'm working on a plan to show you how sorry I am. Mostly I think I just need to get you alone so we can talk again, because I think I can explain my reaction. Part of it is because of everything we've done this weekend. Huang always says that even good stress is still stress, and I have to believe he's right this time. That, combined with the trouble I'm having personally and professionally on the Patterson case made me blow up irrationally. Maybe I'm letting Sophie Patterson's fear infect me. Maybe I'm just stupid. Right now, I really don't know.

Right away we get called out to a scene, but Cragen pulls me aside quickly to tell me Hammond is going to want to talk to all of us when we get back, something about the Valez case. I wonder if you'll be with him. I already know what he has to tell the squad.

When we roll up to the scene, I realize the building is familiar. Elliot and I come to the same conclusion at the same time as we charge up the steps and towards Sophie's apartment. The scene is grisly, Sophie lies in the tub, up to her nose in now-cold water, tinged a dirty red. Her left wrist hangs over the edge of the tub, a razor blade on the floor beneath her lifeless hand. Sophie's girlfriend Julia sits in the living room, not moving, the shock of seeing her lover dead leaving her statuesque. The taller girl stares away from the open bathroom door, not willing to see the slightly rounded form of her dead girlfriend. Attacked, raped, killed. All for a little three letter word. That's what you called it right?

Elliot puts a hand on my arm, and I realize I've been staring at Sophie's body longer than necessary, not willing to believe she's gone. I meet his eyes, but don't speak, turning to Julie to ask the questions I really don't want the answers to.

"Julie, I'm Detective Benson, with the Special Victim's Unit. My partner and I were working on So-- Miss Patterson's case." It's hard to do my job right now. Hard to fight the urge to gather up Sophie's body and try to bring her back. I keep having to remind myself that there's a living vic to look after. Julie was just as much a victim of the rape as Sophie was, even if only by extension.

"Julie, I'm going to need to ask you some questions. And I understand that you may not remember everything right now, but with Sophie…. with Miss Patterson…"

"You want to know if I know anything about the men that raped her. Because she can't tell you anything when she's dead." Julie's eyes are cold as ice, unblinking against the tear that rolls down her cheek.

God Alex, I wish you were here for this. I have no idea how to talk to this girl. What do I tell her? What would I tell you?

"I understand how hard this must be for you," I flinch as the scene photographer snaps a shot of the bathroom. "But you're the only one left who might be able to help punish the people that hurt Sophie." I reach out to put my hand on top of Julie's two clenched together fists. She doesn't pull away and I take that as a sign of encouragement. "Julie, please… if we can't make these charges stick those three little bastards will go free. And if you don't help us stop them, someone else is going to have to find their girlfriend dead in the bathroom."

"Liv." Elliot's voice is terse and I know I've crossed a line. I pat Julie's hand and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be right back ok?"

"Cool it down Benson. She can't talk if you terrify her."

"Elliot we can get these guys. The last time I talked to her, Sophie said Julie was there that night, that she shoved her out of the way behind the dumpsters when she saw those creeps coming towards them, she told her to stay put and not to say a word no matter what. Julie was hiding behind the dumpster the whole time and she never said a word. If she talks, the case is made, even without Sophie's testimony."

"Is it worth her sanity Liv? Don't you think she's lost enough right now?"

"I can't let this one go Elliot. And you know why."


By the time we finish the paperwork, I've actually almost forgiven you. We're in Cragen's office, waiting for you and Elliot to get back from a call, and giving Don a chance to adjust before he helps me re-meet you and Elliot and Munch and Fin. He knows most of the story, but not all of it. Hammond is still calling me Regis, but I feel like he's at least trying to remember that it's not who I am anymore. I convinced him to call my mother and he tells her he's coming by later to talk about my case. I want to be there when she finds out, just in case something goes wrong. The people that keep me informed about my old life mentioned that her heart isn't what it used to be.

While we wait, Don fills me in on the case you've been working on. The more I hear the better I understand this morning's outburst. I was right in the car… you were scared. Shit. Now I feel like I owe you an apology. A big one. When I see you pitch my coat in the seat of your chair I know wherever you and Elliot were, it didn't go well. You look like you're about to cry, but I don't think anyone but Elliot and I would know it. I have a feeling I'm going to be "escaping" from Herr Federal Agent tonight so I can talk to you.

Don steps out of the office to talk to his three detectives, and my only detective, trying to prepare them for … well… me. When the four of you step into the confines of his office Elliot looks tired, Fin and Munch share conspiratorial glances, and you look sheepish… and exhausted. I know you're as sorry about this morning as I feel after hearing about the new case. Munch recovers first,

"Cabot! I knew it was all a ruse. So you've been what, working undercover? Helping the CIA? Come on, fill me in." He babbles in typical John fashion as he leans forward to hug me, and I'm surprised as always by his height, and the bony feel of his arms.

"Good to see ya Alex, glad to hear the man didn't get'cha down." Fin is sweet, in his own way. You and Elliot are playing along, and I wonder when you'll tell the guys that you both already knew the big secret. Elliot leans in for a brotherly hug, and whispers about your state of mind. He didn't have to tell me you were upset… I can read your face like a dismissal motion.

When you hug me I can feel your arms start to latch around me, I know how badly you want to collapse into me, and I feel you fighting to keep your cool. "I'm sorry about this morning," you whisper in my ear, then pull away. "Good to see you Alex. Glad to have you back. We missed you."

I lean back to look at my detectives, as if I could ever think of you and the goons as anything else. "So, how does it feel to see a ghost?"

"It's great Cabot. Maybe we can make a habit of it, huh?" Cragen is ever the father figure, tough and sensitive all balled up in one. I'm glad to see the squad, but all I can really think about is getting you alone so we can talk about this case. I know what happens when you hold this stuff inside, and I can only imagine how much you want a drink right now. I want to be your replacement.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sophie


I know it's not enough, but after seeing Sophie's lifeless body in a tub, all I can do is whisper an apology as I pretend to be seeing you for the first time. I hug you, like everyone else but unlike the guys, I just want to fall in your arms, and for a moment I think I might actually faint. I'm overcome by it all, and I force myself to pull away, trying to regain my cool. Elliot touches the butt of my gun sticking up from my belt holster, I know what he's trying to say, "cool down." I take a breath and try to make my face look surprised instead of devastated and needy.

You're gone too soon, whisked away by Hammond and all I can do is stare after you, watching you walk away, wanting to collapse, instead settling in my chair and leaning my head in my hands, elbows on my desk. Before long Cragen calls us into his office to hear about the call. I let Elliot do all the talking, and like a true partner, he doesn't mention my push on Julie.

"You have a problem with this case Detective?" Don's voice snaps me back to the present, away from the vision of Sophie's softly plump body floating in a sea of red.

"No Capt'n. Just, thinking about the rape. I think if we can get Julie to talk we might still be able to get the three mousketeers on the rape charge."

"Do you think she will talk?"

Ah, the real crux of the issue. "I don't know. Without her testimony, Novak has no case, and you already know how she feels about that."

"Yeah, and so do you. Elliot, talk to Novak, see what kind of evidence she needs to make the hate crimes stick. Then the two of you, find me something she can work with. Legitimately." Elliot turns to leave, and as I move to follow, Don calls me back,

"I need to chat with you detective. Close the door and have a seat."

Elliot gives me a sympathetic look, then heads off to find Casey.

"Look, Captain, I know I'm taking this a little… personally, but I think I can get Julie to talk."

"Olivia, don't you think maybe you should back off on this one? Before you end up facing more time with Huang."

"I can do this Captain. I need to do this."

"Why? Elliot's not the only once who's noticed you taking this one too personally. Even before he came to me with his concerns..."

"Elliot talked to you?" I can't stop my anger.

"Olivia he was worried about you. And frankly so am I. With Alex back, and this case clearly having an affect on you, maybe you should take a little time…"

"I don't need time Don, I need to close this file. Don't make me do this off-duty."

"Are you telling me that if I send you on vacation you would continue to pursue this without departmental approval? You and Elliot did everything you could to get Sophie to prosecute the rape, and then did everything you could to get her to testify for the hate crimes charge when she wouldn't pursue it independently. Why are you willing to risk your job for this?"

I can't answer. The silence fills the office, and I start to feel like I'm suffocating. I lean back in the chair and close my eyes, unable to fight off the truth, and my tears.


I hate having to leave you like this, but even as Hammond whisks me away to my mother's I'm trying to figure out how to get away from the hotel tonight and get back to you. There's nothing I can do for you now, and I need to be prepared to see my mom.

"Seems like your girlfriend's having a little trouble, Miss Cabot. Can I expect you to try and slip away from me tonight?"

The sound of Hammond's uncharacteristic softness jolts me. I give him a questioning look as he drives towards the richest part of Long Island, taking me home. He catches my eye with the corner of his and shrugs.

"My daughter's gay. Lost her girlfriend last year when some guys decided she wasn't allowed to date women. We've… seen our share of phobia and hatred."

I'm surprised at this revelation, especially since after two years I know nothing about Hammond and his life. Maybe he's not so bad after all.

"You know I'm not really a fascist." I can't help but blush, feeling slightly ashamed for the first time. "But you're right, I don't like having to be your personal bodyguard. I'd rather have been in New York last year watching my daughter graduate from college. When you and your detectives ruined our case, Donovan and I were incensed. The night he died…"

Hammond's voice breaks, and he coughs to try and cover this sensitivity. "Donovan was my partner. A good one. He and Lydia and I worked closely together, and when your hotshot girlfriend wouldn't drop the investigation we both got worked up. I said some things that night. I should have cooled down before I came at you."

I don't respond, partly because I don't know what to say, and partly because the night of the explosion is still a blur for me in a lot of ways.

"Anyway. I don't like the idea of you being out of my range, but if I have to give you over to anyone, I suppose a hard-working SVU Detective is better than nothing. Just don't let it get back to the department. I've already lost two partners, I'd like to at least keep my job."

I nod, knowing he's looking at the road again, while I try to find my voice. "Thanks. She'd never let anything happen to me." Not this time.


I wonder what you'll think when I tell you that I told the captain about us. Will you be angry? frustrated? scared? Proud? I always thought that if I was going to have a dad-type person in my life, Don'd make a pretty good one. He took my revelation, like everything else, in stride.

"Look, Liv-- I could care less who you're sleeping with, as long is it makes you happy and doesn't interfere with the job. I'm glad Alex is back, for your sake especially, but I need your guarantee that you're not going to get out of control about this case. Don't make me take one of my best detectives off of this. Because I will if I have to."

I nodded, unable to speak.

"And Detective, talk to your girlfriend. She might be able to help you get some perspective on this one. I think you need it. Take the rest of the day off."

Before I can protest, he adds, "that's not a suggestion. You're still lucky I don't make a mandatory vacation. Take the day."

I leave the office feeling both chastised and relieved. I just hope I get to see you again tonight, or tomorrow, or sometime before they pull you away to settle things on the Oregon end of the process. My mind flashes to the sight of Julie on the couch, of Sophie in the bath for the millionth time since we found them. I try to replace their faces with yours, trying to erase the sight of Sophie dead in my mind with the sight of you alive in my apartment. But all I accomplish is a grisly mix of the two… my face on Sophie's body in the tub, your face on Julie's in the living room. I need to be in your arms. I need to forget this, and forget how much I want to find a shot of vodka anywhere in the world.


Seeing my mother was… difficult. Proper and genteel as always, I was surprised to see tears rolling down her carefully made up cheeks. It was the first time I've ever seen her really cry. She's lost weight since I left, and I can see that she's grown weaker in my absence. I can't help feeling responsible as she sits delicately in the fancy living room armchair, one hand held to her heart, the other grasping mine. She didn't have much to say, mostly filled me in on the family investments, talked about the extended family, about new servants, trying to fill the space where our real relationship would have been, if we'd had one.

As Hammond pulled me away for my meeting with Novak, mother gripped my hand tighter and stood, lifting her right hand to my cheek,

"I've missed you Alexandra. You and your detective friend. Bring her by when you get back all right? I'd like to see you two at dinner some evening. I'll even have Marcella cook some of that rabbit food she eats. She must have been so glad to see you back again."

I don't tell her that you knew I wasn't dead. I'm hoping to start fresh with my mother this time around, and I know she wouldn't understand why I chose to fight to tell you, and not her.

"I'll call, mother. Take care all right? Tell everyone I said… I don't know… boo?" It's a lame joke, but mother laughs politely anyway. Always diplomatic, even with her own daughter.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Restless Nights


When I hear a knock on my door at 7, I'm not expecting it to be you. I'm not even hoping it will be you. The sight of you on my doorstep, and of Hammond's stocky frame retreating down the stairs breaks my stoicism. You catch me as I collapse towards the floor, crying and shaking, unable to find my breath. You help me huddle to the bedroom, and lay me on my side on the bed, kneeling on the floor beside the bed, running your hand over my forehead, stroking back wisps of my hair.

When I finally feel like I can breathe normally again, you walk to the bathroom and come back with a wet washcloth, which you smooth over my face, wiping off my tears and, cleaning my running my nose. You return to the bathroom and I hear water running as you return with another clean washcloth to replace the first. You crawl into bed with me, and turn me to face you, smoothing over my forehead and cheeks, hot from crying, with the soft coolness of the terrycloth. You hold me to you with one hand in the small of my back, the way I like to hold you, while your other hand continues to chill the tears from my cheeks.

"About this morning," You cut me off before I can really begin,

"It's ok Olivia. Don told me a little about the case while we were waiting. I should have realized it wasn't about how you felt about me. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions."


Your shoulders start to shake again, and I wish I could crawl inside your head so you don't have to try tell me how you're feeling. "God Alex. She was just… dead. And it's my fault. I pushed her to hard."

"Don said Novak was all over you two to make that case. You did what you had to do."

"I should have seen it coming. The last two weeks she nearly slammed the door in my face a hundred times. Then all of a sudden, right before you got back she started talking about Julie being there, about how she was hiding behind a dumpster. I thought I was finally getting through to her, that maybe her giving up her girlfriend as a witness was a sign.

"It was a sign all-right. I should have known."

"How Livvy? How could possibly known she was going to kill herself over this?" You don't meet my eyes, drawing tighter into yourself, and as a consequence, tucking yourself into my body too, and I feel the tension of you against me, quivering.

"Because it's what I would have done."

I'm speechless, unable to retaliate, unable to argue against you. I know you're stronger than that, but I'm amazed that you don't. I shouldn't have made you talk this weekend, I should have just been satisfied to be back, been satisfied with the difference of you. And now I can't help but feel as if I have a hand in this terrific and unstoppable pain.

"You wouldn't have Liv. I know you. You couldn't… not ever."

You turn your eyes up to meet me, the corners of your twin chocolate oceans caked with tear-salt. "Really? You think I couldn't have? Do you know what I did when I thought you were dead Alex? Before I saw you with my own two eyes, saw that you were still alive? I came back here and I pulled out a bottle of vodka and I stared at it. Then I got the Tylenol from the bathroom and stared at that next to vodka. I stayed that way all night. And the only thing that kept me alive was knowing that Elliot would be the one who'd have to call it in when he came to get me in the morning. I'm no stronger than Sophie was. And If I'd been in her shoes… I don't know.

"They raped her because she was gay Alex. Because of that silly little three letter word you were so angry about this morning. She died in a tub of water and blood because she was gay. Because she couldn't change who she was, and because I pushed her to tell the world about something that had already almost killed her once."

You've stopped crying and I can't help but think you've used up your supply of tears for awhile. You shiver in my arms and I put the washcloth aside, gathering you up and rubbing my hands up and down your back to warm you up.

"You're not Sophie Liv. And I'm not Julie. I wouldn't let you shove me away and watch someone hurt you. And if, god forbid, something like that did happen, which it wouldn't, I know you'd be strong enough to do what needed to be done, even if you felt like it was ripping you apart. I can't protect you from your job, and the truth is I can't protect you from yourself either, only you can do that. All I can do is hold you and tell you that I know you better than that.

"I know the woman I love, and she wouldn't let herself be done in by three morons with an eighth grade vocabulary."

I can feel your body relaxing against me, worn out from the force of your sobbing, worn out from the force of this day, of this week, of these years. During the night I take up my old role, soothing away your nightmares as you toss and shudder in my arms. Each time, I watch your eyelids flutter, your mouth skewed by terror or revulsion or pain… and I stroke your hair and whisper something you said to me not so very long ago… "i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you, i love you,"

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Preparations


When I wake in the morning, my whole body aches. I remember collapsing at the sight of you at my door, and I turn my head to the side to find you watching me.

"Don called, he said to come in late. You and Elliot have an appointment to talk to Julie at 2pm. Elliot will be by to pick you up at one."

I nod, still too wrung out from yesterday to respond. I sigh and scoot closer to you, wanting to feel your warmth around me. I feel numb, and tired, and the only thing I can think of besides alcohol is being as close to you as possible.

"I called Hammond and asked him to push back my meeting with Casey, Branch and Donnelly."

I raise my eyebrows, "Hammond just let you do that?"

"He's not really as bad as we thought. I'll tell you about it later." You lean forward to kiss me gently, and I can't help feeling like your skating around something we need to talk about. I'm not really sure I have the energy for it, whatever it is.

"Liv, about yesterday."

"Alex…. please. I… can't talk about this right now." Anger brews behind your eyes, but you're quick to cover it up. "Just give me a bit to wake up first ok, and then… and then I'll be ready. I promise."

"It's ok. Just don't go back…" you're still tiptoeing around something and I remember what I did between the station-house and here.

"Lexi, I didn't buy anything to open it with. It was a reflex. I'm not used to having you here yet.

"Three of them Olivia. You bought three."

I shake my head… that can't be right. I know I must look confused, because I am. One bottle of Vodka I remember. But the other two?? I can't help the next question,

"Did I … did I …" the look on your face stops me. "Oh god. Alex, baby I didn't know. I mean, I didn't mean to do it. Oh god. Why are you still here?"

"Olivia. Slow down. You opened one, even poured it in a glass. But I looked, and I don't think you actually drank it. Glass and bottle are still sitting on the counter. Looks like whatever amount is missing from the bottle is still in the glass."

I can't help choking back a sob, I'm relieved and terrified, what else did I do that I don't remember? My worries unstick my tongue,

"Jesus Alex. How did I let this happen? I should have told Casey I was done. This girl was walking the edge from the moment she reported the rape. No, it wasn't even her report… the girlfriend called the cops and the hospital filed the evidentiary report. Do you know what she said when I interviewed her in the hospital room?

'I wasn't raped. It's a mistake.'

"A mistake Alex. Her girlfriend called to report the rape and Sophie still wouldn't admit it."

"Sounds me like she couldn't admit it. Didn't Don mention something about her family being like, fundamentalist Catholics or something?"

"Yeah, some bizarre branch-off from Catholicism. The Pope's all well and good to these folks but he doesn't bear the same standing in their eyes as he does in the typical Catholic Church. To them, the Bible is the end all be all. You should have heard her talking about them, she was terrified. There were times during this thing when I thought Sophie would rather be raped again then have her folks find out she was gay. And this was a grown woman! She was living with her girlfriend for Christ's sake!"

"What about the girlfriend though, didn't you say she was there during the attack? Will she testify?"

"I don't know. I didn't get much of a chance to talk to her yesterday. I'm not sure I'm the best one to do it either. Maybe Cragen's right, Elliot too. Maybe I'm just too invested in this one." I turn my head away from you again, staring at the lilac-colored walls and feeling the smoothness of your body cradling me in a spoon. You run your fingers through my hair, longer too since you've been gone. When you speak your voice is barely above a whisper,

"I think you're the perfect person for this case Liv. You're the only person for this one. Elliot's great, and he has a great ability to maintain sensitivity no matter what, but you have to admit you have a unique… perspective to add to this. And I know you don't like it, and if I was Novak, I'd probably be trying to convince you to drop it, just like everyone else. But I'm not Novak, and I'm not Cragen, and I'm not Elliot. I know you can do this in a way that no-one else on that squad can."


"Livvy, you have an unparalleled insight into this case. You don't have to tell anyone why if you don't want to, but you can use this to open Julie up. Get her to talk to you, let her know that you understand. She's not going to talk to John or Fin or Elliot. And after meeting Novak yesterday I can pretty much guarantee she won't talk to Casey. But you can offer her something no one else can. Safety."

You scoff, "Safety? Safety Alex? The kind of safety I offered Sophie?"

"No Liv. The kind of safety you find in someone who understands loss. I may be back now, but I know you remember how you felt when you thought I was gone for good. Use that. Use that, and your characteristic strength, and yes, even use your fear. You can draw her out. And then we can get those bastards before they do this to someone else."

I'm taking a risk, asking you to use your fear, hoping you'll understand what I mean. I should never underestimate you… you know exactly what I'm talking about.

"I'm sorry, Alex… about this morning I mean. I've spent so many years pretending that the thought of being open about this terrifies me. I've seen what happens to gay cops, Alex. They end up raped, beaten, suddenly it's very easy to find themselves in the path of a bullet. Partners get unreliable and IAB gets interested."

"You really think you'd have a problem with those guys? Olivia those four men adore you. They would lay down their lives for you… hell, Elliot already has, probably more than once. Don and John and Fin and Elliot treat you like their sister. They'd rather die than let anyone come after you that way. Look, I'm not telling you to go yell it from the roof of the station house, but Elliot knows doesn't he? And when you told him, did the world end?"

"He seemed a little uncomfortable, but otherwise no, he was Elliot. Cragen was pretty ok with it too."

Now I'm surprised, "You told Don?" You nod in response. "What did he say?"

"That he didn't care who I slept with, as long as I was happy and it didn't affect the job."

That sounds like the Captain. Pretty much what I would have expected. "Liv they love you, we all do. Being gay is not something to be ashamed of. You don't have to hide this anymore. Look at Serena… didn't you say she came out not too long ago?

"Yeah, and she lost her job for it."

"Look, Branch can be a prick but I doubt that was it. Besides, Novak's still working for him."

"Novak? You're kidding me."

"She and Serena met when they were in law school. Evidently they've been together for years, it's the reason Novak moved to New York to take the SVU detail."

"I thought you said Novak would be the wrong person to talk to Julie?"

"She would. Novak doesn't know anything about loss. She doesn't understand what its like to be afraid to be who she is, not like you do. And let's face it… she's not the most sensitive person in the world. Quite frankly she and Serena are perfect for each other."

You turn your head and I can see a sheepish smile on your face. I'm glad to think I may have made you feel at least a little bit better.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to talk to Julie one more time. Wanna tag along? It'll be like old times?"

"No, I can't pass that meeting with Novak and Hammond. Besides, I'll be with you the whole time. You can even wear my jacket again." Thoughts of you in my jacket take me back to the morning… "In fact, wait here…"

I pop out of bed and go to the living room, pausing to check the clock. It's only seven. Hammond won't be here till noon, and you have another hour after that to wait for Elliot. Plenty of time for a little… healing.

Chapter Thirty: A Jacket and a Smile


When you walk in carrying your leather jacket I can see a refreshingly familiar twinkle in your eye.

"Time to get up Detective." I groan, not wanting to leave the warmth of the bed… wishing instead that you'd crawl back in.

"Oh, don't worry, it won't be for long. Just come over here." I pull my body out of bed and step up to you as you rest the jacket on the side table by the bed. When I get to you you reach for the bottom of my shirt and pull me in for a kiss. "I have the perfect idea for an outfit. But I don't want you to wear it for anyone but me, promise?"

I nod, speechless as you pull off my shirt, and then push down at my sweatpants. When I'm standing in my panties you kiss me again, and push absently at the hem of my underwear. I wiggle my hips and legs until I feel them fall to the floor. It never fails to amaze me how easily you can calm my mind.

I feel the cool slickness of the coat against my skin, and without breaking our kiss you reach to drape it over my shoulders, then pull away from my lips to guide my arms into the sleeves. In a matter of seconds I'm standing in nothing but your leather jacket and a smile. You step back to look at me, and I blush at the intensity with which you study me.

"See anything you like counselor?"

"mmmm…. I certainly do detective, and it's all wrapped up and ready to go."

I reach out for you with both hands, pulling you into me, fighting to pull you out of your tank top and pajama bottoms. It's all I can do not to tear off your underwear, and instead I slide down your body, making sure that you get a generous feel of both my skin and the cool leather against you as I reach the line of your underwear on your hips and plant tiny kisses along its hem. I can see as I draw them down that you're already wet, and the scent of your musk pulls me down. I flick your clit with my tongue and run a finger down your slit, gathering some of your wetness on its tip. You wiggle your feet free from your panties and I pull back up your body, watching your eyes as I lick your juices from my finger. I can tell you're wondering when I took over this game that you started, and I recognize the fire in your eyes.

You grab my hand away from my lips and guide it to your breasts, using your hand to make mine fondle you as you pull my head towards you with the other and crash against my mouth. Your tongue is probing, and you shove your way into my mouth, and I can taste your desire as you massage and lick at my tongue inside my mouth.

We stumble back to the bed and you kneel on the floor, pushing me back with your hands, leaving my legs hanging over the edge, the v of my legs perched on the end of the mattress. I moan as I feel you mimic my earlier motions, flicking at my clit with your tongue and using a finger to track some of the wetness between my legs up and around my swollen clitoris, moving your mouth into position, teasing me with your breath.

This is your specialty, teasing me, giving me almost what I want, waiting until I beg you to touch me, beg you to suckle me, to make me come. You roll my most tender part between your thumb and finger, and I gasp at the contact. My back arches and I open my mouth to speak, dying to feel you inside of me,

"please… Alex. Please."


"Please what? What do you want Olivia? This?"

I run the tip of my tongue down your slit, feeling you quiver beneath me, your body shuddering, trying to get closer to my mouth.

"Please… touch me. please…."

I lean my mouth closer, looking up through my eyelashes at your face, contorted with desire. I stop a hair's breadth away from you, and speak breathily against your heat, "is that all? you just want me to touch you?"

Your body bucks at my breath, "no Alex. please. fuck me. I need you. I love you. fuck. me. pleeaasse"

I acquiesce quickly, plunging my tongue beyond your folds, gripping your hip with one hand and using the other to play with your clit, sometimes substituting a finger or two for my tongue, or using my tongue and my fingers, the way I know you love. I can hear you moaning on the bed above me, and the sound of you wanting me makes me even wetter. I feel my nipples harden, and a trail begins to drip slowly down my thigh. I pause my suckling to tell you to take off my jacket, and you quickly throw it aside, then grab at me as I swing myself around without stopping my movements. I shudder inside of you as I feel you slurping hungrily at my own wetness. You don't tease the way that I did, and the intensity of your tongue's rhythm in and out, matched by fingers, and the feel of your thumb on my clit is almost enough to make me forget about you. I didn't realize I'd stopped my attentions until you moan against my skin. "please…"

I return to your slit, your clit, delving deep inside of you with my tongue and fingers, moaning as you play with me, the vibration of my moans making you shudder beneath me, and I know that neither of us can keep this up for long. I feel your walls tighten around my tongue and fingers even as I think it, and I know you're getting a similar reaction from between my legs. We explode against each other, and I take care not to let a single drop escape me, the sweetness of you too precious to waste.

As I finally shift my body back to meet your eyes, your lips, I can see a familiar glaze in your pupils. We push into each others mouths, our tongues battling for leadership, darting back and forth between us, tasting each other again as our hands explore each other's bodies, neck, shoulder, breasts, ass, hips, waist. I let my hand find its way between your legs again, and as you arch your head away from mine I kiss the nape of your neck, then trace a line with my tongue along your jaw, returning to your mouth as I pull more of your wetness away with my hand. I run my finger, slick with you, over your lips, then kiss away this natural gloss. I can never get enough of that taste, and you kiss hungrily back at me, drawing my tongue back inside your mouth to play with yours.

Sticky and tired, we fall asleep in each other's arms for a few hours, and I'm glad I remembered to set an alarm before I made you put on my coat. I'll never look at that coat the same way again.

Part 31

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