Broken
Road
By
sHaYcH
Disclaimer:
Don’t Own ‘Em. Just
borrowing for a bit of fluff. Dick
Wolf, NBC, et al. – these are your creations, I’m just taking them to
places TV won’t go.
Shippyness Ahoy!
Slashy, slushy and more than a heavy dose of HoYaY! Aboard. Casey.
Olivia. You
have been warned. If
you’re not interested, I’m sure there’s a ship of your choice leaving
some other port.
Wanna comment?
Razz the writer: shaych3@yahoo.com
It’s purty because: DiNovia did it. She be the master of the
purty sex scenes. I’m
just trying a little emulation. For
a taste of her masterfulness, see 20/20.
(Oh yes, do see this… much with the yummy.)
Harold Wilson wasn’t a bad guy. Not like his daddy. After all, Daddy had
enjoyed hurting people with a fierceness that still haunted the
Harry-the-adult’s dreams. No,
Harry Wilson wasn’t bad – he just liked to love.
He shared his love with all children, because kids always
need love.
It never occurred to him that
those children had no want or desire for his love.
In Harry’s world, his love was perfect and sharing it
allowed him to expiate the sins of his father.
At first, Harry let his beloved
children return home to carry the seeds of his love through their own
life. Then one of
his little angels told some bad lies about him, and Harry had to run
before the crazy men in blue locked him away from children forever.
He was in New York now, and had
been for quite some time. Here,
it was easy to find children who thrived on his generous nature. Why just yesterday, he had
filled three beautiful boys with his love.
There was a knock at his door. Perhaps that was one now. Getting up, Harry’s face
broke into a welcoming smile as he undid the eight locks – you could
never be too safe, there were monsters out there – on his front door.
“Yes, how can I help you?” he
asked pleasantly as the door swung open.
Nightmare come to breathing life
waited for him.
“That’s him!
That’s the bastard that hurt my Jonny!” wailed a sobbing
woman. “You son of
a bitch, I’m going to kill you!” she shouted, barging toward him.
Taken aback, Harry staggered
into his apartment. How
could this be happening? Little
Jonny couldn’t have broken their trust – the boy had so enjoyed his
loving.
“I – I… this is a mistake!”
Harry said brokenly. “I
don’t know what she’s talking about!”
A dour faced man in a
bulletproof vest that had an NYPD badge clipped to the upper chest only
sighed aggrievedly. “Right,
and I’m a monkey’s uncle. Harold
Wilson, you’re under arrest for the aggravated assault and molestation
of Jonathan Corliss, Andrew Easton and Kyle Laugherty.
You have the right to remain silent…”
As the detective droned the Miranda rights, a woman in a
similar uniform moved to cuff the suspect.
“No!
You can’t make me go with you!” Harry shouted. Leaping away from the
advancing detectives, the skel ran through his apartment, knocking
furniture this way and that, creating an obstacle course for the
pursing detectives.
“Elliot!
He’s headed for the window!”
Detective Olivia Benson dropped back, letting her partner
take the lead. This
was his case and she was more than willing to let him take the bruises
with the glory. Behind
her she could hear assistant district attorney, Casey Novak as she
argued with the building super and the mother of Jonny Corliss. The younger woman had
tagged along for the pick up because she wanted to make sure that
nothing untoward happened to the suspect en route to the station house.
“Liv, the fire escape leads to
an alley in the back,” Casey said softly.
“Got it,” Olivia replied. “Stay here,” she said, as
she watched her partner duck out through a window.
“Call for back up.”
Casey was already taking out her
cell and dialing when Olivia disappeared downstairs.
Once she had phoned in the request, the ADA headed
downstairs.
Outside, she spotted Benson and
Stabler. They had
the suspect cornered and were trying to calm him down enough to cuff
him. Casey inched
closer. She rarely
got a chance to see her detectives at work and it fascinated her to no
end. The shades of
emotion that flickered across Olivia’s face as she alternately
commanded and cajoled the perp sent tiny bolts of electricity through
the young attorney’s body.
Her feet carried her to hearing
distance, and then closer. Suddenly,
without warning, Harold Wilson struck.
“Casey!” the two cops had time
to shout.
Whipping a box cutter out of his
pocket, he grabbed hold of ADA Novak and held her against him. His grip was like iron. One hand was cupped around
her throat, slowly choking her while the other pressed the very sharp
blade of the box cutter into her ribs.
She struggled and felt the hand on her throat tighten and
heard the rending of parting fabric as Wilson sliced into her garments.
“Keep moving, girlie, and I’ll
cut you,” he hissed. “Bad,
bad girlie. No love
for you. Only pain,
girlie. Move and
I’ll cut you, I will.”
Casey nearly fainted. Then a round of endorphins
came charging in on the heels of fear.
“Let her go, Wilson!” Elliot’s words echoed like
a Drill Sergeant calling cadence.
“Gonna cut her, cop! Don’t come any closer!” The perpetrator throttled
Casey again, forcing a pained gasp to trickle from the ADA’s ravaged
throat.
Olivia Benson was seeing
patterns and shapes coated by a red haze.
It was happening all over again and there was nothing that
she could do. Casey
was about to be beaten by another piece of dirt and all she could do
was stand and watch.
Distant sirens crept closer. The skel’s eyes twitched. He could hear them. Looking around nervously,
he never noticed when Olivia whispered something to Elliot and vanished.
“Come on, Harry, let’s talk this
out,” Stabler said gently. “We’re
both a couple of guys here – let’s go sit down, have a cup of coffee
and work things out like gentlemen.”
Mesmerized by Stabler’s voice,
Wilson’s grip on Casey loosened. The
ADA drew in great sobbing breaths of air.
The box cutter was still pressed into her side. In fact, as she took
another breath, she felt the last layer of clothing give way. A warm trickle of blood
suddenly coated her abdomen.
“Cut you, girlie,” Wilson
whispered. His tone
was almost aghast. “So
sorry.”
“Yeah.
If you’re so sorry why don’t you let me go?” Casey felt emboldened by
the suspect’s seeming contrition.
She was also trying to cover for Olivia.
Obviously, the detective was attempting to take the man by
surprise.
“Hush!”
Wilson hammered the ADA in the head with one solid blow
from his fist. “Girlie
no talk. Only men
talk.” He looked at
Stabler, who pasted an insincerely sincere smile on his face.
“That’s right, Harry. Men talk.
So talk to me.” Stabler’s
hold on his gun never wavered, and his gaze never broke from Casey’s. With his eyes, he tried to
tell the impulsive ADA to shut up.
She blinked slowly. Message received, but not
liked. Oh well, he
would apologize later, when she walked away from this with a few minor
bruises and a cut or two.
“I – I love them,” Harold said
suddenly.
“Of course you do,” Stabler
replied. He even
smiled. “That’s why
you’re going to let Miss Novak go.”
“No!” Wilson shrieked, pulling
Casey tight against his body.
Sirens blared into life around
them as several cars containing the rest of the SVU, Captain Cragen and
a S.W.A.T unit arrived. Chaos
whirled as orders were shouted, guns were cocked and suddenly, the
situation was upgraded from a Problem to a Crisis.
Casey wanted to roll her eyes. If she didn’t have that
damn box cutter gouging into her side, she’d kick the fucker in his
shins, pull away and box his nuts into oblivion.
As it was, she was growing mighty impatient with Olivia.
Where are you, Liv? I hope you didn’t decide
to stop and get your nails done on the way to rescuing me.
The fact that Detective Benson wasn’t the type to have her
nails done didn’t bother Casey’s ruminations in the least.
“Wilson, let her go… you don’t
need her.” Stabler
tried one more time before the negotiator took over.
“Let her go, Wilson, or I’ll
splatter your brains all over the wall.”
Casey heard the cocking of a gun. Oh thank God. Casting a glance over her
shoulder, she flashed a grateful grin at a rather dour faced Olivia. The detective looked like
death, so grim was her countenance.
“Bitch!” Wilson shouted. Throwing Casey away from
him, he dropped, rolled and ran into the darkness of the alley.
Torn between following him and
seeing to Casey, Olivia cast a glance toward the ADA.
Sprawled among rotting garbage and debris, the younger
woman caught Liv’s look and made shooing motions.
She staggered to her feet and said, “Go, I’m fine. Don’t let the bastard get
away.” Spewing a
stream of random obscenities, Casey dusted herself off.
A uniformed officer appeared at
her side and led her toward the waiting EMTs.
Olivia didn’t need to be told
twice. Her partner
was already hot on Wilson’s trail and it wasn’t long before she was on
his heels. The perp
led them on a rambling, dangerous trail through alley after alley. Over walls, through torn
fencing and through an abandoned building they went in pursuit of the
suspect.
It ended in another alley. Wilson turned left when he
should have gone straight and ran smack into the back wall of a
building. There was
nowhere to run. Olivia
and Elliot dove for him. They
rolled in a tangle of struggling, fighting bodies, and it almost seemed
as if Harold’s desperate strength would be enough to free him, but then
Stabler landed a solid punch to the skel’s jaw and knocked him
senseless.
The aftermath was not nearly so
exhilarating. Hours
at the precinct spent talking to the guy, with and without a lawyer
until a deal could be hammered out – he would plead guilty to the
molestation charges, but get off on holding Casey hostage. It was a deal that sat
like a leaden lump in Olivia’s stomach, but Casey had agreed to it.
It wasn’t even her deal, Olivia thought as she exited
the box. They
had to call Kibre in again. Doesn’t
Branch trust Casey’s objectivity yet?
Liv rubbed the bridge of her nose. There was a headache
forming that promised to be a five alarm rumbler.
Tracey Kibre’s petite form
exited behind the detective. She
went immediately to Casey’s side.
The young ADA was sprawled at Liv’s desk, holding an ice
pack to her throat. Speaking
softly, she said, “You did good, calling me in Casey.
The defense will have a hard time appealing this one.”
Casey smiled foggily. The EMTs had given her a
pain killer that was making her woozy.
“Wasn’t in any condition to deal with him, Tracey.” Her side was bandaged and
her throat would ache for weeks, but she was alive and Harold Wilson
would never again harm another child.
She would see to that.
In her desk, alongside hundreds of others, there was a
folder bearing the photographs of the children the pervert had “loved”. Joining those images would
be several rather unflattering Polaroids of her own mangled throat and
battered body.
Asking Don Cragen to take those
had been nothing short of sheer embarrassment, but if there was one
thing that Casey Novak had learned working SVU, it was that skels never
changed. Harold
Wilson would be up for parole one day, and when he was, she would be
there to withhold the keys to his freedom.
The only way he would leave prison would be in a pine box.
Spotting Olivia, Casey raised a
hand to catch the detective’s eye.
She’d already thanked Elliot and sent him home. He needed to hug his kids. Olivia meandered over to
her desk and hitched one hip up on the edge.
“Casey you look like shit. Go home.”
The younger woman laughed
hoarsely. “You’ve
just spent the last two hours swimming in filth and you’re telling me
I look crappy? Detective,
you have a wicked sense of irony.”
Kibre watched the verbal and
physical interplay between the detective and the ADA and smirked. She recognized this dance. Caught on the edge of it,
Tracey decided to do what she did best – meddle.
“Detective Benson, since you’re
through with Wilson, why don’t you see that Novak gets home safe? I think the EMTs spiked
her Demerol.” The
Executive ADA’s tone was anything but suggestive.
The crack of a command threaded each word, sewing up a
little package of an order.
Casey balked.
“I can take the subway.”
Liv snorted.
“Not looking like you’ve just come off a three day bender. Come on, you’re not far
off my usual route home anyway.” Olivia
offered her hand to the redhead. Smiling
gently she added, “Let me help you, Casey.
I promise not to bite.”
“That’s not the problem,
Detective –“
“Oh Casey, I’m sure she’s
housetrained. Just
let her take you home. No
one will retract your butch card for it.”
Tracey Kibre was not going to stand around and watch her
meddling come to naught. Casey
would take the good detective home with her, tonight.
And if she’s lucky, she’ll wake up with her,
tomorrow.
“Tracey –“
“Casey has a butch card?” Olivia’s tone of interest
was not feigned. “Why
didn’t I know this?” She
smiled at Casey’s aggravated groan.
“Oh, we all have them, Detective. It’s a perk of being one
of Branch’s Bitches. Right
up there with the long hours and the crappy pay – can’t have a female
ADA looking too weak, you know.” Tracey
smiled mockingly and it was hard for Olivia to discern whether or not
the EADA was being completely facetious or if there was some truth to
her words.
“Casey, if you really don’t want
me to take you, it’s okay,” Olivia said softly.
The redheaded ADA sighed. “No, I’ll take the ride,
Detective.” She
stood slowly, using the edge of the desk to get her balance. Smiling when Olivia
offered her a steadying hand, she said, “I’d rather not be on Tracey’s
bad side this week.”
The EADA chuckled. “That’s right, Novak, suck
it up while you can.” Tracey’s
gaze missed nothing, not even the fact that Casey was clinging to
Detective Benson like a barnacle to a schooner.
It looked like she might win the bet with Kelly after all. Kelly Gaffney, her
assistant and partner in crime had openly doubted that the dour
detective would be open to a relationship beyond work with the scarlet
haired ADA. By the
way that her eyes gentled whenever Casey wasn’t looking, Tracey knew
that Kelly was wrong.
Captain Donald Cragen poked his
head out into the squad room. Spotting
Novak and Benson gabbing with EADA Kibre, he grunted and said, “Go home
guys. Day’s over. Get some sleep. Olivia, make sure that
Casey takes those antibiotics the doctor gave her.”
Kibre smiled.
“You heard the man. Go
home, people.” She
put action to words and strode out of the room.
Olivia looked at Casey, who was
still a little wobbly. “You
going to be okay?”
Casey nodded, touched by the
detective’s obvious concern. “Yeah. Tracey was right, I think
they spiked the Demerol. Either
that, or my blood sugar’s bottoming out.”
“When was the last time you
ate?” Olivia said as they made their way to her locker.
Casey picked up her briefcase
and jacket while Liv gathered her things.
Shrugging, the ADA said, “I don’t remember.” Frowning, she said, “I
think I had lunch today.”
The detective made a tsking
noise. “First stop,
food. What’s your
preference?”
“Chinese,” the redhead said
promptly. “We can
just go to my place… I have a 24 hour take out on speed dial.”
The door to Casey Novak’s tiny
apartment had barely closed before Detective Olivia Benson was peeling
her jacket off and throwing it over the edge of the couch. A deep sigh of exhaustion
followed. Her
hellish day was nearly over.
There was more than one bruise
patterning the flesh of Olivia’s hide and she knew that if she
mentioned it, Casey would be solicitous enough to allow a hot shower. She might even have a tube
of muscle rub. What
she really wanted, more than anything, was to pass out on the pretty
ADA’s couch, but she wouldn’t do that.
Not with Casey still shaken by her experiences.
The ride to Casey’s place had
been filled with a pregnant silence.
Olivia wanted to talk, Casey needed to talk and neither
could find the soft place where tense conversation began. Instead, Casey had dozed,
sleeping off some of the wooziness of the pain killers the EMTs had
given her.
“Coffee or beer?” came the ADA’s
tired voice from the postage stamp kitchen.
“Food’ll be here in twenty.”
“Beer, please.
I’ll call a cab later.”
Liv flopped onto the couch and kicked her feet onto the
glass topped coffee table. Her
right flank ached where she’d scraped the skin raw climbing over a
broken brick wall. Wilson
was lucky he was in lock up because right about now she felt like
breaking every bone in his body.
“Shoes,” Casey said as she
handed the detective a dark brown bottle.
“Oh I don’t know about that,
Case. You really
don’t want to smell my feet right now.”
Liv smiled, took the bottle and pitched the cap into a
nearby wastebasket.
“That may very well be,
Detective. I’d
rather not have um, whatever that is clinging to the bottom of your
boots smeared all over my table. Please. Take off your shoes. I’ll deal with the smell.” She sniffed at her clothes. “Couldn’t be worse than
three day old vomit, two week old urine and whatever this orangish-pink
stain is.” The face
the ADA made nearly sent Olivia into paroxysms of laughter.
Instead, she kicked off her
shoes, peeled off her socks and set her bare feet back on the table.
“Better?”
Olivia took a long pull at her beer.
“Oh God, Casey. You
really need to never buy this shit again.
Do you even like beer?”
Liv turned the bottle to peer at the label. Whatever brand it had been
was long gone. All
that was left was a vaguely shiny label and some pale peach toned ink
stains.
“Um, not really – one of my exes
left these behind. Guess
I need to clean out my fridge, huh?”
“Yeah, you do.”
Liv stood and padded into the ADA’s kitchen. “Let’s see what we have
here.” She poked
around in the fridge. “Oh
yum, green bread. Casey…
do you ever eat at home?”
She held up a plastic wrapped loaf of penicillin.
“About as often as you do,
Detective. Didn’t
you once say that your pots and pans were either rusty or dusty and you
didn’t care which because they would never come off the wall anyway?” Casey toasted the older
woman with her bottle, drank and made a really sour face. “You’re right. This is god awful. Listen, I think I have
some wine somewhere in a cupboard.
I’ll look for them. They’re
probably on the top shelf.”
Liv stuck her tongue out at
Casey. “Is that a
comment about my size, Casey? Are
you calling me short?” Her
voice dropped an octave.
“Oh by no means, Liv. I’m just saying that
you’re vertically challenged.” Casey
smirked, slid past the detective and reached up to open the cupboard
above the refrigerator. The
amount of dust covering the door bespoke of how often this was done.
A variety of grime coated
objects dotted the cabinet. Swiping
two glasses and a bottle of wine, Casey proffered the dark green
container to Liv and said, “Does this meet with your approval,
Detective?”
Olivia took the bottle. Swiping a thumb through
the dust, she read the label: 1997
King Estate Pinot Noir. One
expressive eyebrow rose. “Very
nice, Counselor. I
might be inclined to admit that you have taste after all.”
“Just open the wine, Detective. I don’t need a lesson on
how to Vogue from SVU’s resident butch queen.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who was
given a butch card the day she started her job,” Olivia retorted.
Casey rolled her eyes. “Please, they took one
look at you and figured it was a complete waste of paper.” She bumped her hip into
Liv’s and grinned. “Why
give you license to practice what is so clearly your natural state?”
Shooting a mock glare at the
younger woman, Olivia said, “I’ve half a mind to make you eat those
words, Counselor.”
With a twinkle in her eyes,
Casey smirked and said, “Any time, any place, you name it, my mouth is
there.”
Olivia’s jaw clenched even
though she felt like mopping the floor with her chin.
Her stomach alternately tightened and burned. If she doesn’t
stop flirting with me, I’m gonna rip her clothes off.
If I don’t stop flirting with
her, she’s gonna realize that I want her to rip my clothes off.
“I’ll pour the wine –“
“I’m going to get cleaned up –“
They spoke simultaneously. Laughing, Casey said, “You
pour the wine, I’ll get cleaned up and then you can borrow my shower. I’ll find you something
that won’t fall off your ass. I
promise.”
Olivia sighed.
“Casey, you’re taller than me.
That’s all. In
fact, I think I might be just a little heavier.
But a gentlewoman never inquires after a lady’s weight,
and I’m no lady.”
Casey tilted her head and gave
the detective a long once over. “Oh,
I don’t know. You
fit the description well enough in my book, Detective.”
The doorbell chose that moment
to ring.
“I’ll get it, you go clean up.” Olivia waved off Casey’s
offer of money. The
attorney vanished into her bedroom for all of twenty minutes. When she returned she was
showered and carrying a pile of clean clothes.
“I found a few more things left
by my ex, including some underthings.
Brand new, never worn,” she said as she handed over the
garments. Dark grey
sweats, navy blue t-shirt and white cotton briefs were gratefully
accepted by the detective.
“Thanks.
I um, set the food on the table.
You don’t have to wait,” she murmured.
“I won’t be long.”
Casey smiled and wandered over
to her entertainment center. Rifling
through a stack of CDs she said, “No, that’s okay.
I’ll wait. The
food’ll keep.” Choosing
one, Casey slipped on a pair of headphones and settled into a chair to
listen. Her eyes
closed and her head began to nod to an unknown beat.
Watching, Olivia fought a
momentary urge to flee before she did something crazy, like kiss the
ADA. On the mouth,
with tongue, and hands roaming everywhere… Shaking her head to clear
the all too familiar, erotic imaginings, Olivia retreated to the
bathroom.
Clean, fed and very relaxed,
Casey and Olivia were sprawled on the couch.
The wine was half gone.
Unlike the nameless beer, age had only improved the
vintage of the grape.
Liv shifted and groaned when a
particularly sensitive area scraped the fabric of her shirt.
“You all right?”
Casey asked. The
alcohol, food and remnants of pain medication had combined to leave her
in a state of dreamy bliss. Or
maybe that had something to do with the close proximity of a certain
sorrel-haired, steel-eyed detective.
“Just a little bruised. Bastard ran us through the
wringer. I think
there are parts of me scraped on half of Manhattan.”
“You were hurt?
No one said anything…”
Casey sat up and was starting to rise when Olivia pulled
her back into the couch.
“I’m fine, Casey. Just some scrapes and
bruises. Not like
your throat.” Olivia’s
gaze was fixed on the dark impressions patterning the younger woman’s
pale flesh. Harold
Wilson’s fingers had left deep marks that would take days, even weeks
to fully heal.
Unconsciously, Casey touched her
neck. Closing her
eyes she said, “It’s not as bad as it could be.”
She bit her lip. “Been
worse.” A smile
that never quite reached her eyes appeared.
“I’ll heal.”
“Casey, if I could go back and –“
“Liv, I know.
Please,” Casey said, wiping away the tears that were
suddenly wetting her cheeks. “Just
please…” She sighed. “Is it always so hard? After a day like today,
does it always feel like you’re standing on a knife’s edge where
laughter or tears are a distinct possibility and you’re not really sure
which you’d prefer?”
“Oh honey, it’s different for
everyone. Some
people laugh and joke, others drink until they can’t see, and still
others find unique methods of dealing with what we see everyday.”
Shifting shadows on her face
illuminated the dark circles forming the hollows under Casey’s eyes. “I thought he was going to
kill me,” she whispered.
“Never,” Olivia growled softly. “I would have ripped his
head off first.”
The ADA’s eyes opened. “Liv?”
Layers of questions filled the word until it echoed about
the tiny apartment.
Olivia could not meet Casey’s
gaze.
“Olivia – you wouldn’t kill for
me, would you?”
There was a long heartbeat’s
worth of silence.
“God help me.
Yes.”
Casey licked her lips. “Detective Benson, as an
officer of the court, it is my duty to report someone if I think they
are a danger to themselves or others.
Is this the case?” The
wine was forgotten. All
that mattered was the thin bridge that was forming between their eyes. Casey could feel it
building, brick by brick, girder by girder.
They were so close to something…
Olivia abruptly stood. “I’d better call that cab
now.” She reached
for her coat and was stopped by a hand covering hers.
“Stay.
Stay with me, Olivia.”
Tarnished copper eyes glinted in the dim light. “I need you tonight, and I
think you need me too.”
Olivia shook her head. “No, Casey… I can’t. It wouldn’t be… you’re
just scared and want someone to take the taste of Harold Wilson out of
your mouth.” She
pulled her hand from Casey’s and grabbed her jacket.
“Liv, no, please… we can just
talk, I didn’t mean to offend you-“
Casey could have sworn that they were flirting, but if she
was wrong, and Detective Benson was straight…
A thin smile pressed Olivia’s
lips into a sad line. “I’m
not offended, Casey. Any
other time and I’d stay, and we wouldn’t be talking.”
Slipping her feet into her shoes, she headed for the door.
Casey felt like she’d been
sucker punched. She
couldn’t breathe. She
couldn’t speak. Everything
she had dreamt about had almost come true and in the space of a
heartbeat, it was gone. It
was as if someone had cut her and then poured acid into the wound. She felt like she should
be bleeding, even though the injury had been cauterized.
As her fingers touched the
doorknob, Olivia stopped. The
silence in the apartment was so total she could hear the hum of the
refrigerator. She
could hear her own breathing, but she could not hear Casey. Worried, she looked back. What she saw was such a
snapshot of devastation that her resolve crumbled away like rotten
mortar.
Casey’s face was drawn and pale. The color in her eyes had
been bled away, bleached by the pain that shrouded her like a cloak. She met Olivia’s
questioning stare and turned away.
“Go,” she rasped. “Get out.
Leave me, Detective.
Forget about tonight.
It will all fade by morning.”
One tear broke past the locks of Casey’s will and slipped
free, scalding a glistening path down her cheek.
“Casey…”
Olivia couldn’t move.
Her heart hammered in her chest.
Her stomach burned. “Oh
God, Casey.” Two
steps, three, four steps and Casey was in her arms.
“I can’t… this can’t be just once, Case.”
She whispered raggedly.
“It was never just once, Olivia. I want you – have wanted
you for what seems like forever.”
She cupped a hand over the detective’s face and sifted her
fingers through burnt umber hair.
“My Olivia… kiss me… kiss me and make me forget what it is
to fear death.”
Olivia crushed her lips to
Casey’s. Kissing
her was intoxicating. The
wine had been like satin, all smooth colors and textures. Casey was silk. Fluid and moving under her
touch like the flickering flame of a roaring fire.
Heat blossomed, filling her with an inferno of emotion.
“More… I need more,” Casey
growled, reaching into Olivia’s pants and pulling the detective’s shirt
free. Brailing her
fingers over the solid plain of her lover’s abs, she painted a trail of
kisses from Olivia’s lips to her throat, only stopping to suckle at a
throbbing pulse point.
Liv groaned.
Wildfire seared her nerves.
She had to touch the woman in her arms.
Letting her fingers drift to the V of Casey’s shirt, she
grasped the fabric roughly.
“Hold still,” she murmured
roughly.
Casey paused.
“Olivia?” She
glanced down in time to see the detective shred the front of her t
shirt, exposing her to her lover’s hungry gaze.
Desire had pebbled Casey’s nipples to painful stiffness. Now they tightened even
more and the ADA shuddered as a bolt of raw need sparked from her groin
to her throat. She
staggered back, hitting the wall next to the door.
With one hand on Olivia and the other on the door, she
hung on for dear life.
“Beautiful,” Olivia whispered
and then dove in to capture a nipple between her teeth. Sucking,
nipping and licking at the sensitive flesh, she paid homage to the
liquid flame that burned in her arms.
Breathless, it was all Casey
could to remain upright as Olivia’s mouth traced waterfalls of desire
over her flesh. She
twined her fingers in the detective’s umber hair, alternately gripping
and sifting the strands as Olivia loved her.
“Want… so much, Casey… so much,”
Olivia whispered as she feathered kisses over the younger woman’s
collar bone.
“Everything, Olivia … it’s yours. Take it, love… take me.”
Olivia’s strong arms wrapped
around Casey, lifted her up and carried her to the bedroom. Gently, she laid the
attorney onto her bed and then settled beside her.
Nerves made a mockery of her need, leaving her to lie
nearly still, only able to run light fingers over Casey’s alabaster
skin. Gooseflesh
followed her touch, and Casey shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“No,” she replied. There was a smile in her
voice. “How could I
be cold, Olivia? I’m
on fire wherever you touch me.”
The timbre of Casey’s voice sent
echoing rivulets of desire threading through the detective’s body. Gathering Casey to her,
Olivia pressed her forehead into the younger woman’s.
Closing her eyes, she whispered, “If this is a dream, it’s
the best one I’ve had in months.”
Casey laughed softly. Scratching her nails over
Liv’s belly, she said, “This is no dream, Detective.
I am here, you are here and this is really happening.” One tug freed the knots
that held Olivia’s borrowed sweats to her hips.
Sliding her fingers under the waistband, Casey continued
her slow, tortuous scratches, eliciting a ragged gasp from her lover.
“Good, because-“
Liv’s breath hitched as Casey’s fingers slipped further
down to stroke and swirl against her underwear.
“I don’t want you to stop,” she whispered brokenly.
“Oh, I’m not stopping now,
Detective.” Casey’s
voice was a lascivious promise. She
rose up above the older woman, shaking her head to clear the hair from
her face. The
amber-gold strands tumbled over her shoulders, highlighting how creamy
pale her flesh was in the weak light streaming in from the windows. The torn ends of her shirt
hung down, just hiding the soft swells of her breasts.
Olivia licked her lips. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“Patience, Liv.
I’m not going far.” Standing,
Casey disrobed quickly, shedding her clothes with a careless intensity
that left Olivia breathless. Without
speaking, the attorney reached down, grasped the edges of the
detective’s borrowed sweats and tugged them free.
Liv sat and divested herself of
the t shirt. Naked,
bared to each other’s gaze, Olivia and Casey indulged in long moments
of mutual staring. Casey
returned to the bed, kneeling behind Olivia.
The detective made as if to turn and Casey stopped her.
“No, stay, for a moment,” she
said softly. She
laid her head on Liv’s shoulder. Her
hair fell, obscuring her face and cloaking the detective’s tanned skin
in a ruddy curtain. Olivia
was warm. Her body
radiated heat that Casey drank as though she were parched.
The detective trembled with
anticipation. Ghostly
memories of wished for but never quite named fantasies skittered with
abandon through her mind. Casey
was naked, her body bared to Olivia’s gaze and touch.
Lifeblood warm and pressed against her, the younger woman
was at once a siren and a sylph, fleeing and calling to her in a voice
that mingled with passion to produce a song of need that fired every
inch of the detective’s body.
With tender care, Casey laid a
track of soft kisses over Olivia’s shoulder.
“Do you know,” she said between
each caress, “how often I have thought of this very moment?” She nuzzled Liv’s neck and
then delicately nibbled an earlobe.
“No,” Olivia breathed.
Casey rose to her knees and drew
Olivia back against her. Running
her blunted fingernails from the nape of the detective’s neck, to her
collarbones and down her chest, she stopped to cup Liv’s breasts. She squeezed them gently,
and the detective gasped as the attorney whispered, “Long enough that I
get wet whenever I see you, Detective.”
An ocean’s swell of need rolled
over Olivia at her lover’s pronouncement.
Pulling free of her gentle embrace, she turned, gathered
Casey into her arms and began mapping the curve and shape of her body
with hands and lips.
Open, raw with unfettered
desire, Olivia swam in the lake that was Casey’s lust.
Feather light touches flared to near painful bites that
were soothed almost as soon as they hurt.
Casey’s kisses were the balm
that healed the dark, angry weals of bruised flesh that decorated
Olivia’s body from neck to knee. In
return, Liv gave freely of her touch, cradling, loving, whispering,
speaking in soft, near soundless words of her need, her desire for
Casey and how the young lawyer had been the one, the only one to invade
her thoughts, waking and sleeping.
Entwined, bound deep inside of
each other, they spoke of other things.
Of tomorrow’s tomorrows and the emotions flooding their
thoughts at the moment of release.
“I don’t want to be alone when I
wake,” Casey whispered as she stroked Olivia’s sweat-rimed hair from
her face.
“You won’t be,” the detective
replied, pressing tiny kisses to the hollow of the attorney’s throat. “I’ll be here.”
“Always?”
The fear that etched the word struck Liv’s heart with
tiny, painful darts. Sitting,
she gathered Casey to her and said, “I can’t make promises like that,
Case. My job –“
“Is dangerous, I know. I’d never ask you to walk
away from that,” Casey said, laying her head on Olivia’s shoulder. She snorted. “It’s not like my job is
entirely safe, if you go by recent events.”
Held hostage, beaten – she’s
right, her life is no safer than mine.
No one is one hundred percent safe, not in this world. So if she’s not asking for
promises I can’t keep, what does she want?
“What do you want, Olivia?” Casey pulled away and
looked up at her lover. “I
know what it is that I’m looking for, but what do you want?”
Liv met her lover’s gaze. Biting her lip, she said,
“You, Casey. I want
you.”
They kissed.
It was tentative, a twining of lips and tongues that
melded and fused, becoming a heated, biting struggle for passionate
control that ended with Casey stretched out over Olivia, painting
soul-deep kisses on lips swollen by desire.
Their feet caressed each others
calves, their hips ground out a relentless pace of need that culminated
in Casey throwing her head back and letting out a long, deep groan.
“Yes,” she hissed. “Like this, Liv. Want you so much,” she
moaned.
Olivia echoed her groan. “You have me, Casey. Not…” she panted, “going anywhere.”
“You have me too, Olivia,” Casey
whispered as electric sparks started a chain reaction through her body. Blindly, she grasped Liv’s
hand, hanging on as they both strained to outdo Icarus.
At the moment of the sun’s
brightest flare, Olivia opened her eyes, looked into her lover’s face
and said, “I could fall in love with you, Casey Novak.”
Casey’s face split into a
brilliant grin. “I’ll
catch you, Liv. It’s
not a long drop.”
Olivia sighed sleepily. “No, it’s not,” she
mumbled. Weaving
her fingers through Casey’s hair, she smiled contentedly. “We’ll go together.”
The attorney pressed a kiss into
Olivia’s palm. “Okay. Together, love.”
fin
6/26/2005