The squad wasn't the same since she had returned since the suspension, Elliot was gone, new faces around, Munch had retired and so was Cragen, leaving Liv to take over that role.
One thing that had been boiling up was the tension against Liv, similar to the first day she joined SVU but also so different. She came in the first day thinking she knew it all and now came back from being suspended for three years lacking a little, Casey didn't dare to go over the limit like she used to.
Today was another day with an investigation, the detectives going around because they were missing just one more evidence to convince the jury. A tennis racket that the perp used, they didn't have DNA and that's all they need. It's all that Casey needed, to take to trial. She was pushing a little but it was necessary.
Normally by now it's rare she was part of SVU cases with now there being a primary who was Babra, but in this case she was both there as the ADA but also senior advisor.
Stopping by the precinct, Casey walked through to the bullpen. Glancing around the evidence board then around where the others were.
warnings: semi-public sex (office), jealousy, possessive!Alex, boobs. fingering, scratching, hickeys, hair pulling, pet names (angel, baby), swearing, praise, Alex says 'sexy' 😭😭, oral sex (r!receiving)
𝓣hinking of jealous! Alex Cabot who can usually keep her composure through anything, but the second an unsuspecting officer asks for your number a switch inside her brain seems to flip and she's dragging you to her office.
she sat down at her desk, pulling you into her lap, still seething with jealousy and a need to prove herself as yours, but you stopped her, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, your hair falling down around the both of you, framing her gorgeous face beneath you. Alex melted into your kiss, her free hand tangling in your hair to hold you closer. She parted her lips against yours, her tongue pushing into your mouth, claiming you, marking you as hers. Her other hand slipped down to the button of your jeans, undoing it with practiced ease. She tugged on your waistband, her breath hitching when her fingers met bare skin. She moaned softly into your mouth. "Oh baby," she murmured. "God, I need you so bad."
The desperation in Alex's voice set your heart racing and heated your blood. You pressed closer to her, your fingers finding the buttons of her shirt. Slowly, you popped each one, revealing more and more smooth, alabaster skin for your fingertips to explore, however, alex's hands were less restrained.
She pushed your shirt up, exposing your cleavage to her hungry gaze. Cursing softly under her breath, she unhooked your bra with a quick flick, her hands immediately cupping your bared breasts. She took their weight in her palms, massaging and squeezing them as her thumbs rolled over your nipples. "Fuck angel.." she moaned against your neck, her fingers squeezing harder. She shifted on the chair, spreading her legs slightly and pulling you forward into the new space. You could feel the heat radiating from her through her trousers. She was already wet, and the knowledge only intensified your own need.
With one hand still on your breast, Alex's other hand fumbled with the clasp of your jeans, pulling them down as best she could in the confining space. Her fingers glided through your wet folds, finding your clit and circling it slowly. Her touch was light, teasing, intentionally avoiding where you wanted her most. Meanwhile, her mouth was occupied with your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys down to your collarbone. She nipped at the skin, her tongue soothed the bites, and her teeth left marks which would take weeks to fade. "You're already so wet for me," she murmured, her fingers dipping lower, just barely breaching your entrance. "Such a good girl." Her words, her touch, her possessiveness, it was all too intense, yet not enough. You could feel the heat building, coiling low in your stomach, begging for release. You reached down, your fingers delving into her hair. The movement caused your nipple to disappear into her mouth, and she sucked, hard, making you gasp. You used your grip on her hair to pull her even closer, grinding against her hand with a renewed vigour.
Alex moaned against your chest, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. Her touch turned rougher, her fingers pressed deeper, finding that spot inside you that made sparks dance behind your eyes. She pumped her fingers fast, hard, the sound of her hand against your wetness filling the room. She curled her fingers, finding that spot again, then repeated the motion, her mouth still busy with your nipple. "You taste so fucking good, baby," she murmured. Her thumb replaced her mouth on your nipple, rolling and pinching it while her tongue flicked against the other. You could feel her smirk against your skin as you writhed in her lap, your grip on her hair tightening almost painfully.
She loved this. She loved the way you moaned, how you arched into her touch, how you ground down against her fingers, desperately seeking pressure and heat and pleasure.She added a third finger and the stretch made your eyes roll back, your brain short-circuiting for a moment. Alex's name slipped from your lips, a prayer, a plea, a curse. "Alex.. please, God, Alex." Hearing you say her name, seeing you come undone under her touch, did something to her. She couldn't get enough you, couldn't get close enough. She slid her fingers back out, the loss of them making you whimper.
she had one arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight, she stood, lifting you with her. In a few quick steps, she had you propped on the edge of her desk, her hands tugging off your jeans the rest of the way. She leaned in, her hands under your thighs, spreading your legs further apart. The sudden exposure made you shiver, but she was there, her body crowding you, her hands warm against the coolness of your skin.
"So beautiful," she murmured, more to herself than to you, her eyes raking over your body with a possessiveness that set your nerves on fire. She slid her hands up your inner thighs, her thumb skimming over your clit, her fingers dipping back inside. You moaned, arching off the desk, your hands finding purchase on her shoulders, her arms, anything to hold onto.
Alex didn't let up, her fingers working you with precision, curling and pressing against that spot inside you that made stars dance behind your eyes. She leaned forward, her mouth finding your neck, her teeth grazing your skin, adding to the symphony of sensations. "You're so close angel," she murmured against your throat, her free hand moving to grip your hip. "I can feel it." She slid a third finger back in, the stretch delicious, the edge of pain and pleasure sending shivers rippling through your body. You writhed under her, one hand tangled in her hair, the other digging into her shoulder. Your gasps and moans filled the room, punctuated by the wet slap of her hand against your clit. "Al, please," you begged, but you didn't even know what you were begging for. More, less, something else altogether.
"Please what, sweetheart?" Alex murmured, her tone both teasing and taunting. But under the façade, you could hear the hitch in her breath, the rough edge to her voice. She was just as affected as you, holding onto her control by a thread.
Her fingers pumped faster, harder, her thumb pressed against your clit. Her lips found yours, her tongue pushed into your mouth, silencing the moans that threatened to escape. She was everywhere, her taste, her scent, that possessive, feral edge to her touch. "Come for me," she growled against your mouth, her fingers never ceasing their relentless pace. "I want to see come for me baby."
Her words sent a jolt of heat straight to your core, and your body obeyed. Your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of pleasure that left you shuddering and boneless.
Through your haze, you felt Alex's hands shift to your hips, supporting you as your body tensed and released. Her mouth found your neck again, leaving a trail of soft, feather light kisses up to your ear. "Good girl," she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. Her fingers moved, bringing your hips closer to the edge of the desk. "You're so beautiful like this." You could hear the rasp in her voice, the roughness that betrayed her own arousal. But she wasn't done with you yet.
With a firm grip on your hips, she slid you forward, shifting your weight so that your legs rested on her shoulders. Your breath hitched, your body still sensitive from your orgasm. But before you hada moment to recover, she was there, her mouth on you, her tongue tasting you. She moaned against your clit, sending vibrations through your core, her hands holding you in place as she devoured you. "You taste.." she murmured, her voice low and rough, "fucking amazing." She wasn’t gentle. Her mouth and tongue worked tirelessly, pressing against your clit, flicking it, then lapping at you in languid strokes. Your moans were loud and unabashed, echoing around the quiet room. Your fingers tangled in her hair, holding her close, trying to find some purchase as she kept up her relentless assault.
"shh baby," She dipped her tongue inside you, swirling it around before returning to your clit. "..so loud." Her hands were everywhere - your thighs, your waist, your hips, holding you where she wanted you, taking what she needed.She moved one hand, her fingers sliding back inside you, finding that same spot, and you lost all semblance of control. Your back arched off the desk, your legs wrapping around her head, trying to pull her closer. All you could think about was her mouth on you, her fingers inside you, and the growing tension in your core.
"Alex," was all you could manage to say, her name a plea, a prayer, a curse. "Oh God, Alex.. please." In response, she added a third finger, the stretch making stars dance behind your eyes. She hooked her fingers, hitting that spot that made your brain short-circuit, and your hips bucked involuntarily against her mouth. She moaned against your clit, the vibration sending shivers through you. "You're so hot," she murmured, her mouth barely leaving you long enough to form the words. "..and so fucking perfect."
"It's so good," you managed to rasp out. "So good, Alex, don’t stop, please don’t stop." Your fingers tightened in her hair, your legs trembling around her head. Her free hand dug into the flesh of your thigh, holding you steady as you writhed and moaned beneath her. The sounds of her mouth and fingers working you filled the room, punctuated by your gasping moans and cries of her name. "You’re mine," she murmured against you, her voice rough but possessive. "All mine, angel."
Her words sent heat coursing through you, fueling the fire in your belly. You could feel the buildup, the tension coiled tightly, ready to snap. "Alex, I'm-" But before you could even finish your sentence your orgasm crashed over you. It was intense, unlike anything you've felt before. Your legs quivered, your toes curled, your fingers tugged at Alex's hair as you let out a guttural moan that echoed around the room. Alex continued her relentless assault, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed back onto the desk, boneless and spent. She finally pulled back, her hands still holding you tightly, keeping you in place as she looked down at you with a smug expression. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her gaze dark and possessive. "You look.." she started, her voice a low rumble. "Wrecked." She ran her fingers up your thigh, her touch soft against your oversensitive skin. Even the slightest caress sent shivers down your spine.
warnings: explicit sexual content / smut, srong language, mild teasing / dirty talk ,dom!casey, oral sex (reader receiving), pining, mentions of alcohol
summary: casey novak has been flirting with you for months — compliments, lingering glances, coffee runs from across town. everyone can see it. everyone except you.
(someone requested this!! hope you like!! <333)
You were good in court. You knew the law backward, forward, and sideways. Judges respected you, juries liked you, and even the most grizzled detectives grudgingly admitted you could hold your own.
But apparently, when it came to flirting?
You were an idiot.
“Are you sure she didn’t mean anything by it?” Olivia asked, sipping her coffee like she already knew the answer.
You shrugged, slumped on the precinct bench with your case file still clutched in one hand. “She brought me coffee. That’s not flirting, that’s being polite.”
Olivia gave you a look.
“She brought you your exact coffee order from that place across town that’s not even on her way to work.”
“She probably had a meeting near there.”
“She didn’t,” Olivia said flatly.
You frowned. “She’s just… really nice.”
Olivia snorted into her cup. “You sure she’s just being nice?”
You blinked. “What?”
“Forget it,” she said, pushing off the wall.
⸻
You’d known Casey Novak for two years. She was brilliant, sharp-tongued, borderline terrifying in court, and for some reason — she liked spending time with you. Not that you thought much of it. She was friendly. She was blunt. She liked a good debate and could match you shot-for-shot when the department needed letting off steam. You chalked the attention up to camaraderie.
You’d missed a lot of signs.
Like last month, when she “accidentally” grabbed your hand under the table during drinks and didn’t move it for an entire minute.
Or when she had called you “gorgeous” under her breath and then pretended she said something else.
Or when she had shown up at your apartment with takeout and wine after a shitty case — and insisted she didn’t want to leave “just yet.”
You thought she was just being a good friend.
⸻
Tonight was more of the same. A case closed, a win on the books, and Casey sliding into the bar booth across from you with a low smile and her red hair swept over one shoulder.
“You didn’t tell me you owned a dress like that,” she said by way of greeting.
You blinked, glancing down at the simple black wrap dress you’d thrown on after work. “Didn’t know it was relevant to the case.”
“It’s not,” she said, eyes warm and dark. “But it’s relevant to me.”
You felt your cheeks heat. “You look good too.”
“Thank you,” she said.
You laughed — because Casey was always cocky. It was part of her charm. You thought that was just… her way. Not a signal. Not a flirt.
Even when she let her leg press against yours under the table.
Even when she leaned forward and said, “So, you ever plan on letting someone buy you a proper dinner, or do I have to keep pretending these bar snacks count as dates?”
You paused mid-sip. “Are you offering to take me to dinner?”
Casey blinked slowly. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said, though her lips twitched like she wanted to say everything.
⸻
You walked home together because she insisted. Said it wasn’t safe that late. You protested. She ignored you.
And as the two of you reached your building’s stoop, you hesitated, key in hand, and turned toward her. She looked annoyingly beautiful in the warm glow of the streetlamp — collar popped slightly, hair a little wind-tousled, a hint of pink on her cheeks from the wine.
“This was nice,” you said awkwardly.
Casey stepped in a little closer. “Yeah,” she said, voice low. “It was.”
You waited. You thought maybe she’d say something else. But she just looked at you — eyes sweeping over your face like she was memorizing it.
And then she turned. “Night, Detective,” she said, walking away with her hands shoved in her coat pocket.
You stood there a full minute, heart thudding stupidly.
Then you muttered to yourself, “She’s so confusing.”
Behind you, Olivia’s voice rang from where she was getting out of a squad car across the street: “You’re confusing.”
Casey had decided, somewhere around your fifth accidental brush of her arm, that she was going to lose her mind.
It wasn’t that you weren’t interested. At least, she didn’t think you weren’t. You were warm, and sweet, and responsive. You smiled when she touched your arm. You lingered when she walked close. You accepted every invitation — drinks, dinner, casework over wine in your living room. But for all the energy humming under your skin when she was near, for all the long looks and late nights and close quarters…
You hadn’t made a move. Not even a hint. You hadn’t flirted back.
And Casey was starting to think you were either the cruelest tease alive… or just really, really oblivious.
⸻
She tried everything short of writing “I want you” on a Post-It and slapping it on your ass.
She’d made comments about your legs, your eyes, your voice. She brought you coffee every Monday — even though she hated that pretentious little place you liked — and once, she even tucked a stupid note inside the sleeve that said:
Just in case no one tells you today: you’re unfairly hot when you’re pissed off. xo—C.
You’d responded by showing her crime scene photos over lunch like nothing happened.
Casey was going to scream.
⸻
It all came to a head the next Friday night, post-case, when she found herself once again at your apartment. There was beer in the fridge, a file open between you on the coffee table, and your bare knees were tucked under you on the couch, the hem of your shorts inching higher each time you shifted.
Casey couldn’t concentrate for shit.
“I think we can drop count two if we hammer motive in closing,” you were saying, voice low and thoughtful.
“Uh-huh,” Casey murmured, staring at your mouth.
You didn’t notice.
You kept talking, lips brushing the rim of your beer bottle like you were doing it on purpose — except you weren’t, because you were too damn focused on case law to notice Casey was practically vibrating.
She shifted closer. “You always do that?” she asked.
You blinked. “Do what?”
“You always bite your lip when you’re thinking.”
You frowned, confused. “I don’t…”
“You do,” she said, voice dropping. “You also hum when you’re nervous.”
You stared at her.
You blinked again. “ I—”
Casey sat back hard, tossing her pen onto the coffee table with a clatter. “Unbelievable.”
“What?”
She pointed at you. “You. Are so—God.” She ran both hands through her hair. “You really don’t get it.”
“Get what?” you demanded, starting to feel weirdly defensive.
Casey stood. Pacing. Breathing hard. “Do you think I buy coffee for anyone else in that office?”
“I didn’t—”
“Do you think I sit on anyone else’s couch, on a Friday night, not touching them, when they’re dressed like that and looking at me like that?”
“I didn’t know I was—”
“You never noticed the way I look at you?” she snapped. “The way I flirt? The way I touch you and wait, every single time, for you to do something back?”
Your mouth opened. But nothing came out.
Casey finally stopped pacing. She stepped up to you — close, way too close, her eyes sharp and wild and shining. Her voice dropped again, softer this time, but edged in something hot and frustrated.
“I’ve been flirting with you for six months,” she said. “I have made it painfully obvious. And if I have to spell it out one more time—”
She didn’t finish. She stepped in and grabbed your face and kissed you.
Hard.
⸻
You gasped.
It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t slow. Casey kissed you like she was starving. Her fingers threaded into your hair, her body pressing you back against the couch cushions, her mouth claiming yours like she was owed it, like she’d earned it, and you just—
Melted.
You made a sound — some soft noise of shock and arousal and oh-god-finally — and Casey groaned against your lips like that was all the confirmation she needed.
When she pulled back a breath later, her face was flushed and her mouth slightly parted. “Finally,” she whispered, forehead resting against yours.
You blinked up at her, dazed. “I—I didn’t know.”
Casey let out a half-laugh, half-growl. “Yeah. I noticed.”
Then she kissed you again — slower this time, but deeper. She slipped a hand up under your shirt, across the curve of your waist, pulling you up and over her lap as your legs straddled her, the heat of her frustration turning into something darker, sharper, needier.
“I’ve waited too long for this,” she murmured into your throat. “I’m not stopping ‘til I’ve made my point.”
You weren’t sure how you ended up in your bedroom.
One second Casey had you on the couch, her hands under your shirt and her tongue in your mouth like she wanted to taste every breath you’d ever taken — and the next, she had your back pressed against your bedroom door, her hands flat on your hips, eyes burning.
You reached for her again, but she caught your wrists and pinned them lightly to the wall above your head.
“Let me show you,” she murmured, eyes locked on yours. “Let me finally show you what I’ve been thinking about every time I had to walk away from you.”
You nodded, breathless.
That was all she needed.
She dropped to her knees in front of you like she’d been waiting to do it since the moment she met you. Her fingers curled around your thighs and pulled you close, your shorts tugged down with quick precision, then your underwear. You gasped as the cool air hit your skin, and Casey smiled — not her courtroom smile, not her polite one — but something darker. Hungrier.
“God,” she murmured. “You’re soaked.”
“I didn’t— I didn’t even realize—”
“Of course you didn’t.” She leaned in and pressed her mouth to the inside of your thigh, biting softly. “You never notice what you do to me.”
You whimpered.
Her mouth moved higher, tongue flicking against your skin as her fingers dug into your hips. Then — without any more teasing — she licked a long, slow stripe up the center of your cunt, groaning like she’d been dreaming about this exact moment for months.
You cried out, your knees buckling slightly, and Casey just chuckled darkly against you.
“I’ve had to watch you eat fruit in the break room like you weren’t trying to kill me,” she said, voice muffled as her mouth returned to your clit. “Had to watch you stretch in my office — wear those tight-ass jeans — call me ‘Novak’ like it wasn’t driving me insane.”
You moaned, back arching, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Casey grabbed your thighs and pressed you harder against the door.
“Hold still,” she murmured. “You’re gonna take everything I give you.”
And then she devoured you.
Her tongue flicked expertly over your clit, then lower, then back again — purposeful, relentless, so fucking thorough. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think. You pressed your wrists back against the door as your legs trembled and your eyes rolled back, every nerve in your body tightening under her mouth.
“Casey—” you gasped.
“Say it again,” she demanded, lifting her head briefly, her lips slick.
“Casey.”
“Again.”
You moaned it this time. Louder. Shameless.
She grinned. “Good girl.”
That was what did it — the voice, the praise, the rough hold of her hands as she pushed you over the edge. You came hard, hips jerking against her mouth, your cries echoing off the bedroom walls.
She didn’t stop until your legs shook and you were pulling away, breathless and wrecked. She stood slowly, licking her lips, eyes still dark with want.
⸻
Later, you lay in tangled sheets, your head tucked against Casey’s shoulder, your thigh over hers as her fingers traced light circles on your bare back.
You were still floating. Still warm.
“You really thought I was just… nice?” she asked, her voice soft now, amused.
“I did,” you admitted, burying your face in her skin. “I thought you were just unusually friendly.“
Casey laughed — a real, head-tipped-back, breathless sound — and it made you grin.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said, pulling you closer. “Otherwise I might’ve just given up.”
You tilted your head to meet her eyes. “So… you like me?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re literally naked in my arms right now. What do you think?”
“I think I was an idiot,” you whispered.
Casey leaned in, kissed you again — slow, deep, sweet. “Yeah,” she murmured. “But you’re my idiot now.”
Casey was still lightly trailing her fingers across your bare shoulder, her other hand tucked behind her head on your pillow like she owned the place — and now, maybe she did.
You were still trying to believe that happened.
She’d kissed you like she wanted to own you, then dropped to her knees like she was meant to. And then somehow, impossibly, held you through the aftershocks like she’d been doing it forever.
Now the two of you were tangled up under your sheets, lazy with afterglow. The bedroom smelled like sweat and skin and Casey’s perfume.
“I still can’t believe I didn’t see it,” you murmured.
Casey hummed. “Believe it. Olivia certainly did.”
You groaned. “Oh, God. Olivia.”
“She tried to give me a pep talk last week. Told me I had to ‘flirt louder.’ As if I hadn’t practically sent up a flare.”
You laughed and buried your face in the crook of her neck. “You’re never going to let me live this down.”
“Not a chance.”
Her hand slid lower, resting on your hip. “I should’ve kissed you a long time ago.”
You tilted your face toward her, still flushed, still feeling the ghost of her mouth between your thighs. “Why didn’t you?”
Casey exhaled slowly. “Because I thought maybe… if I pushed, you’d pull away. I didn’t want to lose you.”
That quiet admission made something twist in your chest.
You reached up and brushed her hair behind her ear. “You never would’ve lost me.”
“You say that now.”
“I mean it.”
She met your eyes, and you saw it — all that sharp confidence tempered by something softer, deeper. Longing. Relief. Hope.
“Say it again,” she whispered.
You kissed her — slow this time, a promise more than a demand.
“I want you,” you said against her mouth. “I’ve wanted you for a long time. I just didn’t know how to see it until you made me.”
Casey smirked, eyes half-lidded. “I did say I was a good litigator.”
You laughed again, then nestled closer, leg sliding between hers, your arm over her stomach.
“I was serious earlier,” she said after a beat. “If you ever make me flirt that hard again without catching on, I will pin you to my desk.”
“Noted,” you said.
She grinned. “There’s that word again.”
You groaned. “Don’t start—”
But she was already flipping you gently onto your back, one hand sliding over your stomach, eyes dancing.
“You’re not going to sleep yet,” she murmured.
You blinked. “I’m not?”
She leaned in, kissed the corner of your mouth. “No, sweetheart. I’ve still got six months of frustration to work through.”
And then she kissed you again, and everything went soft and breathless all over again.
— [ 🫧 ] but i thought we’d have really good bed chem ; casey novak
after a long day in court, casey still carries that controlled intensity home with her — all sharp edges softened only slightly when the door closes behind you both. she doesn’t need to raise her voice to take control; it’s in the way she guides you closer, the steady hand at your waist, the quiet confidence in her touch.
explicit sexual content • oral sex • fingering • overstimulation • consensual power play • emotional and physical intimacy [1.4k]
— for: @kennedyyyyy <3
The soft hum of the city filtered through the slightly open window of your shared apartment, a cozy two-bedroom haven you'd both carved out over the past year. It was one of those rare evenings where Casey's caseload had lightened just enough for her to come home before the clock struck nine. You heard the front door click open, the familiar jingle of her keys hitting the bowl on the entry table, followed by the thud of her heels being kicked off.
"Baby?" Casey's voice called out, warm but edged with that authoritative lilt that always sent a shiver down your spine. She was in prosecutor mode all day, commanding courtrooms and grilling witnesses, but with you, it softened into something possessive, protective.
"In the kitchen," you replied, stirring the pasta sauce on the stove. You'd decided to cook tonight—a simple spaghetti carbonara, her favorite after a long day. The aroma of garlic and pancetta filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of her perfume as she approached.
She appeared in the doorway, still in her tailored blouse and pencil skirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, tie loosened. Her blonde hair was slightly tousled from the wind outside, and those sharp blue eyes locked onto you immediately, scanning you from head to toe. You were in comfortable lounge pants and a tank top, barefoot, feeling a little underdressed in comparison.
Smells incredible," she said, stepping closer. Her hand found your waist, pulling you gently against her side as she peered into the pot. “You didn't have to do this. I could've grabbed takeout on the way.” But the way her fingers lingered, tracing the hem of your tank top, told you she appreciated it more than words could say.
You leaned into her touch, smiling. “I wanted to. You sounded exhausted on the phone earlier.” It was true—her last call from the office had been clipped, frustration lacing her words about a witness who kept changing their story. In your established rhythm, you knew how to unwind her, just as she knew how to unravel you.
Casey hummed in agreement, her lips brushing your temple. “It was a mess. But seeing you... that fixes everything.” She turned you slightly, her hand sliding up your back to cup the nape of your neck. The kiss she gave you was slow, deliberate, her mouth claiming yours with that subtle dominance she wielded so effortlessly. Her tongue teased the seam of your lips, and you parted for her without hesitation, a soft sigh escaping as she deepened it.
By the time she pulled back, the sauce was bubbling a bit too vigorously, and you had to step away to turn down the heat. Casey watched you with a predatory gleam, leaning against the counter. “How was your day?”she asked, but her eyes were already darkening, roaming over the curve of your hips as you moved.
“Boring without you,” you admitted, plating the pasta. The truth was, your freelance graphic design work kept you busy, but nothing compared to the spark she ignited. You'd been together long enough—six months of dating turning into this committed life—for the little things to build anticipation. Like the way she'd text you mid-afternoon with a teasing “Thinking about you” or how she'd pin you against the wall the second she got home on lighter days.
Dinner passed in comfortable conversation, the two of you at the small dining table, feet tangled under it. She told you about the case, her animated gestures making you laugh, but underneath it all was that simmering tension. Every time her foot nudged yours, or her hand brushed your thigh while reaching for the wine, heat pooled low in your belly. Casey noticed, of course—she always did. Her smile turned knowing, a little wicked.
Afterward, you cleared the dishes together, her body pressing close as you loaded the dishwasher. “Leave it,”she murmured against your ear when you reached for the last plate, her arms wrapping around you from behind. “I want you now.” Her voice was low, commanding, and you felt your pulse quicken.
“Casey...” you breathed, but there was no real protest. The plate clattered into place, forgotten, as she spun you around and backed you against the counter. Her kiss this time was hungrier, her hands firm on your hips, pulling you flush against her. You could feel the heat of her through her skirt, her thigh slipping between your legs to press just right.
She broke the kiss to trail her mouth down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. “You've been teasing me all evening, haven't you? In those pants that hug your ass just so.” Her words were a growl, one hand sliding down to squeeze your backside possessively. You gasped, arching into her, already aching for more.
“I wasn't—“ you started, but she silenced you with a finger to your lips, her eyes locking onto yours.
“Shh. Let me take care of you.” It wasn't a request. Casey's dominance was never forceful in a harsh way; it was assured, like she knew exactly what you needed before you did. She took your hand, leading you out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bedroom, her grip firm but gentle.
The room was dimly lit by the bedside lamp, the king-sized bed with its rumpled sheets inviting. She guided you to sit on the edge, standing between your legs as she unbuttoned her blouse slowly, revealing the lace bra underneath. Your mouth went dry, hands itching to touch, but she caught your wrists, pinning them lightly to your sides.
“Not yet,” she said, voice husky. “Watch me.” She shrugged off the blouse, letting it pool on the floor, then unzipped her skirt, stepping out of it with deliberate grace. In just her underwear, she looked powerful, her body toned from yoga and those late-night runs. She knelt slightly, her hands on your thighs, pushing them apart. “Lie back for me.”
You obeyed, heart pounding as you scooted back onto the bed, propping yourself on your elbows. Casey crawled over you, her weight settling just enough to pin you without crushing. Her lips found yours again, then moved lower, kissing along your collarbone, down to the neckline of your tank top. She tugged it up and over your head, exposing your breasts to the cool air. Her mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking hard, her tongue flicking over the peak until you moaned, fingers threading into her hair.
"Good girl," she murmured against your skin, switching to the other side. Her hand trailed down your stomach, dipping under the waistband of your pants. She palmed you through your panties, feeling the dampness already there. “So wet for me already. You love when I take control, don't you?”
“Yes,” you whispered, hips bucking up into her touch. She chuckled softly, sliding your pants and underwear off in one smooth motion, leaving you bare beneath her. Casey settled between your legs, her shoulders nudging your thighs wider. She kissed the inside of one, then the other, her breath hot against your core.
When her tongue finally touched you, it was a slow, deliberate lick along your folds, tasting you. You whimpered, the sensation electric. She didn't rush; instead, she built it methodically, circling your clit with the tip of her tongue, then sucking gently. Her fingers joined in, one sliding inside you, curling to hit that spot that made your toes curl.
“Casey... oh god,” you gasped, the pleasure coiling tight. She added a second finger, thrusting steadily, her mouth never leaving your clit. It didn't take long—the buildup from dinner, the anticipation—pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm hit hard, walls clenching around her fingers, a cry tearing from your throat as you came.
But she didn't stop. Casey's eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark with intent. “We're not done,” she said, voice muffled against you. She kept pumping her fingers, slower now, but insistent, her tongue lapping at your oversensitive clit. The aftershocks made you twitch, a whine escaping as the pleasure bordered on too much.
“Too sensitive—please,” you begged, but your hands pushed her head closer instead of away. She knew you, knew the line between discomfort and ecstasy.
“You can take it,” she commanded, her free hand gripping your hip to hold you still. “For me.” Her fingers sped up again, thumb now rubbing firm circles over your clit while she sucked on your folds. The overstimulation built quickly, your body trembling, nerves firing wildly. You felt another climax approaching, sharper this time, and when it crashed over you, it was with a sob, your back arching off the bed.
Casey finally eased back, licking her lips as she crawled up your body. She kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. “Look at you,” she praised, her hand cupping your face. "So beautiful when you come undone." But she wasn't finished. Her fingers, still slick, trailed back down, teasing your entrance.
“One more,” she whispered, sliding three fingers inside you now, stretching you deliciously. You were soaked, sensitive, every thrust sending sparks through you. She fucked you with her hand, slow and deep at first, then faster, her thumb pressing your clit in relentless circles. Her mouth was on your neck, biting lightly, marking you as hers.
The third orgasm built like a storm, your body overwhelmed, muscles tensing. “Casey—I can't—“ you panted, but she shushed you, her pace unyielding.
“Yes, you can. Come for me again.” Her voice was a low order, and it tipped you over. You shattered, screaming her name, vision blurring as waves of pleasure ripped through you. Your pussy clenched hard around her fingers, gushing slightly, the intensity leaving you boneless.
Only then did she withdraw, gathering you into her arms. She held you close, stroking your hair as you trembled in the aftermath. “That's my girl,” she murmured, kissing your forehead. “You did so well.” Her body was warm against yours, her skin still flushed, and she shifted slightly to pull the covers over both of you, cocooning you in the soft fabric. The room felt even quieter now, the distant city sounds fading into a soothing backdrop.
You nestled deeper into her embrace, your head resting on her chest, listening to the steady thump of her heartbeat. It grounded you, pulling you back from the hazy edges of overstimulation. Casey's fingers continued their gentle path through your hair, occasionally dipping to trace lazy patterns on your shoulder. “How are you feeling?” she asked softly, her voice stripped of its earlier command, now laced with genuine concern.
“Amazing,” you managed, your words muffled against her skin. A lazy smile tugged at your lips as the last tremors faded. “But exhausted. You really know how to wear me out.” There was no complaint in your tone—only affection, the kind that had deepened over months of shared mornings, late nights, and everything in between.
She chuckled, the sound vibrating through you. “Good. That's the point.” Her hand slid down your back, rubbing soothing circles over the curve of your spine. She pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then tilted your chin up to meet her gaze. Those blue eyes, so intense during your play, now held a tenderness that made your heart swell. “I love seeing you like that—trusting me completely, letting go. It means everything.”
You reached up, cupping her cheek, your thumb brushing over the faint freckles there. “I love you,” you whispered, the words simple but profound in the intimacy of the moment. Leaning in, you kissed her softly, a contrast to the fervor from before—slow, exploratory, tasting the salt of sweat on her lips.
“I love you too,” she replied, her arms tightening around you. For a while, you just lay there, bodies entwined, breaths syncing in the quiet. Casey hummed a soft tune under her breath, an old lullaby she sometimes sang when you couldn't sleep after tough cases. It lulled you further, your eyelids growing heavy.
Eventually, she eased out of bed, careful not to jostle you too much. “Stay put,” he instructed gently, slipping into her robe. You watched through half-lidded eyes as she padded to the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm, damp cloth. She cleaned you up with tender strokes, wiping away the evidence of your release, her touch reverent.
“Better?” she asked, discarding the cloth and sliding back under the covers.
“Much,” you sighed, curling into her side once more. The ache between your legs was a pleasant reminder, a badge of your connection. As sleep began to claim you, Casey's hand found yours, lacing your fingers together. “Sweet dreams, baby,” she whispered, her lips grazing your temple one last time.
In the quiet of your home, wrapped in each other, it was perfect—just the two of you, in your established world of love and lust, the night stretching out in peaceful contentment.
(haven’t written for casey in a long ass time lmfaoo i almost forgot how to, anyways hope you all liked this <3)
summary — it’s not always easy balancing your life between being a decorated nyc detective and devoted wife. sometimes, it takes all hell breaking lose for the sun to start shining again.
warning(s) — established relationship, marriage, detective work, suspension, canon-compliant, mention of murder and sexual assault, gun mention, arrest, slight police brutality (its warranted), arguments, bickering, angst themes, workaholic tendencies, olivia benson and fin tutuola appearances, pet names, heated makeout, hair pulling, angry sex turned makeup sex, kitchen sex, oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), scratching/marking, casey novak doesn’t know how to relax, porn with plot, men/minors dni
authors note — was inspired by this prompt list! 14 and 19 were used! more casey fics were requested! so, first casey smut in the books. enjoy :)
You | Not coming home tonight. Overtime with Fin.
You | Please don’t forget to take the laundry out of the dryer.
You | I love you.
The precinct was quiet for a change, voices replaced with the shuffling and rustling of paper. Every couple of seconds Fin drops his ballpoint pen to turn the page in his packet, the blue ink in the tube splattered against the translucent package, further affirming that he’d been tethered to his desk for unrelenting hours as the ink dried out. The white board across the room is still adored in pictures, some for identification purposes only, others to remind you all of the nature of these crimes; the absolutely heinous triple murder and sexual assault you were looking into with no conclusive lead.
It had been three days of little leads and dead ends, three days of collecting bodies that should’ve had a chance to flourish before they fell. Women aged eighteen to twenty three seem to be in the wheelhouse age range, no specific hair type, no personal ties to the victims or their families, but second hand parties aren’t always the most accurate account. You’re running out of leads to jump on. There’s two suspects left on the board before you’re back to the drawing board entirely, but there’s little hope on the horizon that a witch hunt through ViCap will bring to light any leads. The victims you know were bludgeoned, beaten over the head with something heavy but not eye catching. Not a bat that would catch eyes being lugged around Manhattan blocks from the batting cages. Not a crowbar that was easy enough to identify on the streets as a weapon of deadly potential when the wrong man was holding onto it. Melinda Warner hasn’t been able to conclusively rule what the murder weapon was, and the clues she’d given you to help complete the puzzle were as hopeless as the DNA evidence your suspect left behind. Not enough to run a full profile, if his DNA was even in the system at all, and somehow not enough to run a partial familiar recognition. You had a fraction of what you needed in a world full of bustling technology, and it was slowly driving you, along with everyone else in the precinct, crazy.
Casey hadn’t worked in months, nothing legal at least, so it was like she hadn’t been working at all. She’d offered a hand to a few people she knew, all behind the scenes, all with inches of space between her and the case to maximize the discreteness of her transgressions, but it wasn’t enough to disperse her restless energy. She was going crazy at home. living with the repercussions of her actions that she’d once so fearlessly pushed towards, but there was nothing you could do to make the next however many weeks or months easier for her.
It didn’t surprise you when your phone didn’t ping with her response right away, lying face up on the corner of your desk beside a mug of pens that have all seen better days. Your signature is wonky as you scratch it along the solid line at the bottom of the document form IAB, finally shoving all of the papers away from you once it was dried and set in place forever that you’d o given your attention and promise to the clause they were implementing.
Fin was still tangled up in paperwork, but he’d also been involved in a shootout where you hadn’t been. Things have been lively lately. Your partner changed like the wind depending on who Benson had on hand to delegate, your cases picked up like a California wildfire, and your home life was deteriorating the longer Casey was forced out of her livelihood.
“I need a snack.” You declare after a moment, the rumbling in your belly something unavoidable now. Fin glanced up from his desk, puppy dog brown eyes narrowing in on you. “You want anything?” You laughed softly, craning your head to psych out his stare.
“Yeah, get me some chips!” He called out, and you shook your head in amusement at the excitement in his tone. Odafin Tutuola was an oddly satisfying character to know. His finesse was amusing at times, when he played the role of the of the grown up hoodrat you couldn’t help but crack a smile, because that was so far from who Fin had turned out to be. He claims that this job hasn’t changed him, that he’s the same Narcotics detective he was over thirteen years ago, but you know better than that.
“Chips.” You nodded agreeingly at his request, stalking away from your desk with a relieved exhale. Tension gathered in your shoulders, weighing you down in a way that it never had when you’d first started this job, but years of surgery, recovery, and injury on the job paired with the natural progression of age and deterioration, well it was no shock that you walked with a hand on the center of your back, trying to work out so knot that had formed tight along your lower back.
You hadn’t even fed your dollar to the vending machine before Fin was calling your name, surprise lacing his tone when he projected through the precinct that ViCap had found a hit to a middle-aged Jonah Thompson, currently living in Queens, but working out of Manhattan with an auto body shop.
You didn’t hear your phone ping when you grabbed it off the desk and shoved it into your back pocket, racing after Fin who already had the keys to the cruiser in his palm. You slid your vests on before you got in the car, knowing that your suspect had lifted a gun from his latest victim who’d fearlessly sought to defend herself before she was taken by surprise and ambushed. A pediatric doctor. Emily Hartness. She was only twenty-six.
You called Benson on your way to Jonah’s job, traffic cameras picking up the last four digits of his license plate pulling into the body shop an hour ago. So far, he’d never moved a victim any farther than the hallway outside of their bedroom, so detaining him in the act didn’t even cross your mind as the door closed heavily on the cruiser and you and Fin stalked carefully into the building, radios at the ready to call for backup if things went south.
Fin trailed behind you, covering your six, the soles of his boots heavy as they crunched on dirty concrete. The entire shop was in disarray as you crept through it. Car parts were scattered on the ground, different tools were hooked up and looking half broken as they hung off of rusted hooks or just flat on the ground. There was no care, no passion. It was becoming clearer and clearer that this man wasn’t just fueled by anger, he was entirely controlled by it in every aspect of his life. The cars were treated with less respect than he promised the drivers, and the bodies of his victims were degraded and treated with as much carelessness.
The entire lower level was cleared, but when you took the stairs, Fin at your nine o’clock, a shadow of a fleeing individual caught your attention, and you raised your gun with intention, willing to shoot if it came down to it, willing to put your life before his if it promised Casey wouldn't’ have to grieve anybody else.
“Drop it! Drop it!” You shouted when it became evident that your suspect was gripping something in his hands, never turning to face you directly to give insight as to what kind of weapon he was holding. “Drop it!” The reverberations of your tone were haunting, and the guy, potentially Jonah Thompson, seemed to bristle beneath the force, whatever he held clattering to the ground. It was light. Definitely made of metal, but light. That was Warner's biggest stipulation when she’d first performed the autopsy. The murder weapon was definitely metal, some kind of steel, Warner had said steele, but she’d adamantly denied a crowbar being your weapon when you’d first insisted they were made of the same hard metal.
”Get on the ground!” Fin yelled, his shoulder brushing yours as he stalked in front of you to apprehend the suspect who sank into the concrete like all of his fight had left the room, disintegrated into the open air and never touched him at all. It was pathetic. You wouldn’t have preferred to chase him out into the street, wouldn’t have wanted to use your gun even if scum like him deserved a bullet to the heart, but it felt almost anticlimactic to catch one of the cities most dangerous killers and have him just crumble because you raised your voice. It truly gave the perfect image for the kind of people who do these unspeakable things at all.
“Would you look at that.” You reached down, picking up the tool that had been dropped and slid beneath a tool box. The sleek metal in your hands was cool to the touch, slightly rusted, but perfectly coated in droplets of blood that would stand up in court. “I’d say we just found our murder weapon, wouldn’t you, Detective Tutuola?”
“Hell yeah.” Fin scoffed, lugging the guy up to his feet and dragging him down the stairs and back toward the cruiser where red and blue lights paint the night sky with color. He’s shoved into the back of a squad car, two uniforms taking him in with pride. You pretended not to notice when Rhettley jammed his head against the top of the car, apologizing through a shit eating smile, before he slammed the door shut and gave you a nod.
Only once the other officers had cleared the scene did you and Fin load up, more than ready to call it a night and crawl home to your respective beds and wives as the sun rose over Manhattan with strokes of pink and practically white blue hues.
You fished your phone out of your back pocket at a red light, sighing when your eyes skimmed the text messages from four hours ago, Casey’s name and contact picture the only visible notification on your screen.
Casey | Eventually you’re going to have to come home.
“Trouble in paradise?” Fin asked, sensing your reluctance to crawl home and face the music.
“I’ve been here since Tuesday night. I’ll be surprised if there’s paradise to be found when I get home.” You shook your head, glancing down at the timestamp on your screen that mentioned it was nearing six in the morning on Friday. Three days since you’d seen Casey. Three days of devoting your every waking minute to getting justice for the women who were lost.
Fin whistled, shaking his head as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Man, this whole happy wives happy lives thing is bullshit. Who came up with that anyway?”
“A man who knew how important it was to keep his woman happy.” You settled him with a deadpan glare, because as often as Fin gave exceptional advice when you least expected him to have a single clue about the situation at hand, he was equally as spacey as any other men, and often forgot that you were one of those ‘women’ he was speaking of in frustration.
“Listen, I’m just saying, somebody has to draw the short stick sometimes. Can’t always be me.” Fin rolled his eyes, and you smirked at you let the unsettling feelings of Caesy’s frustration evade you for the time being.
“It amazes me that Phoebe hasn’t left your ass yet.” You hum, climbing out of the car when Fin pulled up to the precinct, parking next to Olivia’s sparkling black car that she’d inevitably taken through the car wash sometime after picking Noah up yesterday.
Benson was on you and Fin the second you entered the precinct, wanting to know every detail about the detention and arrest. You’d tastefully avoided the part where Thompson's head had been shoved against the squad car, but you think Olivia already has the picture in her head as a smirk falls onto her lips. It shouldn’t be there. Neither of you should be satisfied with the treatment of your suspect, but what goes around comes around, and you still don’t think it measures up in any way to the heinous acts he’d committed. His actions had irreparable consequences, the headache could be curd with tylenol and a couple quality hours of sleep; not that you figured it was your problem if somebody gave him tylenol or not.
“I’m gonna head out. That okay?” You asked Olivia once Fin had cleared out, always the first to leave when he had the chance. You couldn’t blame him, but it would never be you.
“Yeah. Get out of here. Go home.” Benson nodded, waving her hand around before she circled her desk and claimed a spot at the rolling chair she’d grown attached to since the last remodeling had occurred. It was no different from yours, but even you would agree that whenever you found yourself behind the Captains desk, her chair superseded the comfort and lower back support yours provided. “Detective!” Benson called when you turned away, heading toward the door with a hand on your back pocket, itching to text Casey and hope that she was already awake and making her morning coffee in the kitchen, some jazz music playing through the speakers, a song neither of you know, but don’t mind to listen to together silently. ”Good work.”
“Thanks, Captain. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m gonna take the day?” You knew Benson would be okay with it, she’d probably sing your praise for actually taking a break, her most effective and punctual Detective. She saw the sacrifices you made, the way you poured your heart into these victims and shamelessly allowed them to keep that tender part in their hands even after you parted ways. She saw how you let your home life go up in flames because whenever you gave into the desire to just hide away with Casey, somebody died. Somebody is always dying, but the guilt an officer feels when one happens when they’re off the clock is harrowing. She sees your pain, your sacrifices, your strength, and she can see that if your rope stretches any farther, it's going to snap.
“Of course.” Benson nods, and you smile when your eyes catch a picture of Noah on her desk, looking so big as he stood outside the elementary school with a broad grin and fearless blue eyes.
You didn’t drive to work. You never did. It gave you clarity to trek the blocks home after a shift, alone with nothing but your thoughts and fellow pedestrians as you mulled over cases and the bickering that fills the walls of your apartment when you do return home. You’re not avoiding her. Even with the fighting and the restlessness, she’s still your favorite person, your reprieve from the harsh world, but maybe you’re avoiding her a little bit. You’re avoiding the fear that she’s going to leave you over this; that you’ve finally done the one thing to push her away after years of knocking heads and making it work out of determination.
It’s quiet when you step inside, almost eight in the morning now, the sun fully risen overtop of Manhattan. Kids are flocking to school, parents are flocking to work, businessmen are hustling the streets down below with briefcases and leather loafers. But Casey remains wrapped up in a bubble of protective silence, standing out the counter with her shoulders squared, evidence of her frustration painting her stiff.
“I’m home.” You tell her softly, dropping your bag by the island, letting it clatter to the floor without even a second glance. The contents don’t matter, a broken screen can be replaced, a notebook splashed with water can dry or be repurchased. There’s no second Casey Novak on the streets of Manhattan though. A teenager behind a clerks counter can’t fix this if you let it break.
Casey hums, swirling a spoon around her mug of lightened coffee. The granulated sugar is pulled to the edge of the counter, the glass bowl refracting sunlight that splashes across it from the window where curtains are pulled to the side permanently by thin elastic bands.
You bought this apartment for the light that spills in consistently throughout the day. The large window behind the sink is the only one in this room, but as your eyestrail to the living room, they count six windows, and then they trail to the hallway, the setup memorized in the back of your head, you know that there are another eight concealed by bathroom doors nad bedroom walls. It bright, filled with sunshine and warm light, but it’s so cold in the kitchen that you shiver, passing weight between the balls of your feet ass you burn holes into Casey’s back.
“About time.” She hums, her tone dismissive, and it makes your heart stutter in your chest as you consider that its not frustration she’s overwhelmed with, it’s sadness, perhaps even jealousy. That hollow anxiety you’d forced yourself to deal with for hours settles into anger, your head tilting on an axis as you try to make sense of her short answer.
“We had an open triple murder, Casey. It’s not like I blew you off for drinks.” You argued weakly, not wanting to raise your voice at her; make this any bigger than it already is, but it's killing you that she won't even glance at you, or see your side of this in the slightest.
“This time. You had a triple murder case, this time. Last month it was the prostitution ring. The month before that it was pedophile going after previously abused children. How many passes do you think I can give before I stop counting on you coming home at all?! It’s been three days. Three days since you’ve come home!” It dawns on you how desensitized you’ve both become to the nature of these cases in conversation when she screams the world pedophile at you from across the kitchen, turning to face you with a burning heat in her cheeks. You don’t take the cases lightly, not you, not Casey when they reach the DA’s office, not Olivia while those transitions are happening, but in conversation, when the only things left to discuss are your work life, you hardly blink before using the world's worst terms so naturally.
“I gave you a pass — a million passes! — when the roles were reversed. When it was you spending every waking hour at the DA’s office, bargaining for favors and sacrificing your job. The one that provides for us! That helps me pay for this apartment! So yeah, a little understanding would be nice every once in a while, Casey.” You exploded initially, unable to keep yourself together in the face of her shameless hypocrisy, but your tone tapered off toward the end, soft and defeated as it washed against Casey who wasn’t ready to let her own emotions go, pulling you right back into the fire when her hands slammed on the counter and she stalked closer to you with a finger jutted out toward your chest. Without the vest, you feel vulnerable, and when her finger drives into your chest, it’s a sensation as sharp as a bullet wound that shoots through you.
“Do you have any idea what it feels like to be lonely in your own home? Of course you don’t, you’re never here!” Casey bubbled with rage, and your eyes darkened enough to sober her slightly, her lips wobbling when she took in your straight edge jaw and clenched fists.
“Do I have any idea how it feels to be lonely in your own home? Do I?! When you were working, how many nights did I wait up for you on the couch? How many nights did you come in after midnight and wake me up with some bullshit apology? It’s okay for you to get busy, for you to get caught up in a case, but not me? Casey, I invented being lonely at home while you were at work, doing what you love, offering somebody who just lost everything they had a slice of hope for the future. I dealt with it, because I knew that if I made it a problem, somebody out there who deserves the best gets less than for my own selfish benefit. That’s not who I am. That’s not something I would ever ask a victim to sacrifice. I’m sorry you’re bored. But you laid these stones to step on yourself. You abused the system. You went above people's heads for a favor. You let yourself get caught up on the taste of a conviction and you sealed your fate. I picked up the late shift because I couldn’t be here alone anymore. I work the overtime because what the fuck else was I going to do besides sit here and go crazy. I’m sorry that you can’t do what you love right now, baby, but this is not my fault, and I would really appreciate it if you stopped treating me like it is.”
If Casey had anything to say, it got caught on her tongue before it could make its way to your ears. She fumbled over words, her lips moving, jaw twitching, but nothing came out. Her eyes, how they held a million emotions all at the same time, were still alight with ebbing anger, but they glimmered with tears that she’d let fall too many times since she’d first been suspended. You scoffed, amazed at her silence, feeling your heart break in your chest as she offered no ounce of consolation or apology.
You were about to clap back at her, demand that she at least have the balls to respond when she’s the one that wanted to fight in the first place, but instead, her hands grab your cheeks and they pull you into her with an urgency that has you stumbling. Her lips are chapped. She stopped putting on chapstick so frequently after she got laid off. It’s a small thing, something you hadn’t noticed right away, but when you'd finally asked one night after passionately rolling around, she’d admitted that it was just something she forgot about now. She only ever rubbed her lips together with vanilla scented oil when she had someone to go up against, when there wasn’t time for her thoughts to be consumed with rough skin when she spoke.
Her tongue was soft, wet and warm as it licked across your bottom lip, begging for entrance that you weren’t ready to allow. You weren’t so easily moved from strong emotions, but Casey was unpredictable. One minute she’s on a rampage making her problems everyone else’s grief, and the next she’s acting like her claws never came out and scratched at the eyes of anyone in her path of terror. That’s what drew you to her in the first place; that fire. Its ever burning even now, her fingers pulling at baby hairs on the nape of your neck until you gasp in startled paint that jumpstarts the arousal gone dormant in your bones. It takes a second, one single second for Casey to reframe your way of thinking, for her to get you to let it all go and live in the fairytale that exists when the outside world falls away. It's gone entirely, there’s still an annoying anger in your belly that churns when you remember she’d overlooked your own suffering for years.
Her tongue assaults yours, lapping at taste buds that haven’t had anything outside of water wash over them in hours. You’re sure it’s a dull taste, one that winds her up and lets her down, but she never stops chasing the texture of your tongue rubbing against hers, advancing in her lust as she chooses to hollow her lips and create a suction around your own wet muscle, sucking until your eyes flutter closed and your breath is stolen from your lungs and she pulls away because she has to, not because she wants to.
“I’m sorry.” She pants, smashing her forehead against hers. The wide tip of her nose has always bumped yours when she gets close like this, and now is no different. She inclined her head just slightly to trace the slope of your nose with hers, her eyes a shade of yellowing-green peering into the depth of your emotional stare becoming corrupt with lust. Her breath is heavy, hot and twinged with faint spearmint as it fans across your upper lip, peach fuzz tingling beneath the sensation.
Your eyes flicker between her lips, plush and wet and just slightly swollen from your make-out, and back to her eyes that are blown with passionate desire admiration can’t spark. Weeks of silently treading waves have led to this moment, and a subsequent reckoning force is the only way the dust will come to settle. ”Just make it up to me.” You pant before you lean in again, stealing a kiss that she leans into with vigor.
She makes light work of the buttons on your pants while she kisses you, her nimble fingers unlatching the button that had dug into your belly all day. It hadn’t phased you at the time, for the last three days that you’ve recycled the same pants in favor of saying room in your locker for spare blouses, but when the pressure finally breaks, you melt into Casey’s touch, desperate for it to wander farther down until there’s no anger left to quench.
“No, I’m not done.” You pant when she begins to break the kiss, her hands wandering down your sides now as the waistband of your pants sags around your hips, one small movement away from falling and revealing the rather unflattering black underwear you’d carted with you in a bag the day you’d transferred into the precinct. It didn’t need to be sexy to save your ass in times like these — quite literally.
Casey wasn’t listening to you, and that brought every spark of passion back to the surface as you huffed through your nose, grabbing a handful of her until she complied with the guiding motions of your hand. “I said I’m not done.” You repeated breathlessly, leaning in to capture her in a bruising kiss that you dominated for only a second before she took initiative, backing you up into the island until the knot in your lower back met the sharp edge of the countertop.
When you pulled away, cheeks flush, a sheen coating your skin as the heat of the exchange caught up to you, Casey nipped at your bottom lip, trailing her sharp bites along your jaw until her teeth settled around your earlobe. The diamond flat back earrings she’d gotten you for your birthday were cold against her tongue as she teasingly flicked the muscle against your earlobe. “Are you gonna let me keep going now?” She husked, her voice thick with arousal, vibrato low and resonating within your ear as it bounced and tumbled and tickled every nerve you didn’t know you had until right now.
“God damn it, Casey.” You groaned, head tilting, lulling to the side to give her ample room to destroy your skin with everything she has. It’s a learned dance, a practiced action. She avoids the visible areas, the ones that stick out from the collar of your uniform or the neckline of your blouse. The same tender inches of your shoulder have been marked with her bite time and time again, you know the next move of her lips without having to think about it, but when she sinks her teeth into the side of your neck, a spot she’s only ever touched before on the rare extended vacation you take yearly, everything goes black for a minute as you surrender to the sparks of vibrant euphoria. “Keep going.” You pant, not really a plea, but the breathless steals your confidence and Casey’s taunting dulls your senses too much to realize the anger is melting, fading and ebbing.
As Casey sinks to her knees, she drags her fingers down your sides, her touch light, faint and delicate. You shudder, and the twinge in your spine as you twist remains you of the knot in your back. She must notice the way you tense for only a second, because she digs her fingers into your hips in just the right way to quell the spasming in your muscles for a while. It’s a wordless exchange, but one that reminds you she knows your body inside and out even in bouts of blinding frustration.
She makes a soft sound when she sees your underwear, but nothing comes to follow it. Nothing matters to her right now outside of finding pleasure in your release at her control. The need to constantly control everything is inevitably going to break Casey apart entirely, but for right now, this silent moment in the kitchen, you lean into the promise that you don’t have to think about anything when she’s around.
“Open your legs.” She whispers, but without any other sound happening in the apartment, there’s no reason for her to be any louder. A wanting moan falling off of your lips when you comply with the request and she doesn’t waste a second with further teasing. She has no care for teasing right now, that’s been clear from the very start, but you can’t say you mind her ambition when it becomes a tongue licking a broad stripe up your core, flat and hard enough to shock you with pressure that does exactly what it needs to.
”Fucking hell.” You moan, reaching down to grab handfuls of her hair, uncaring if it hurt her scalp that you knew very well to be incredibly sensitive. You couldn't think of anything outside of the fireworks of white sparks that shot up through your core until they somehow landed in your fingertips and toes.
Her tongue flicks at your clit with strong strokes, and just when you think she’s giving you her all, two fingers probe your weeping entrance that pulses around nothing, begging to be filled and used and touched in any capacity at all right now. Casey groans when she finds stringy evidence of your arousal painted along your labia, tangy and delusionally sweet in her mind as she plunged her knuckles farther into your core and let her tongue meet where they met slick skin.
It’s frivolous, messy, harsh, uncoordinated motions that become your inevitable undoing. Casey’s fingers scissors your walls open despite the protest from your body, wanting to squeeze her tight and never relinquish its grip. She curled her fingers into that spongy part, the one that was right beneath your clit that her teeth nipped at and her tongue soothed dutifully. There was no warning leading up to your explosion, your release that had been needed for days on end as you’d found it impossible to relax with a suspect at large and seemingly anyone on his radar.
“Oh fuck.” You moaned, head lulling backwards as your forearms dropped to the counter, supporting your weight as she continued to work her fingers into you, easing the edges of your climax away with tenderness. “Damnit.” You muttered when you attempted to straighten your posture, but that knot in your back kept you hunched uncomfortable. Somewhere in the pursuit of the suspect, you’d stumbled into the railing of a staircase bent to shit and definately a safety hazard — as you were now an example — but it hadn’t fully dawned on you until now when everything had gone tense and loose again in seconds.
Casey sighed fondly, not needing to ask what was wrong because she knew, she always knew when she wasn’t so clouded with her own frustration and envy like a fool. “You hurt your back again?”
“Ran right into a damn gate.” You said softly, still panting, still flush, but less wound tight with anger, more willing to be the compassionate girlfriend you’ve prided yourself on being. “If it gets hard being here alone, I need you to tell me that, not give me the cold shoulder and expect me to read your mind. Okay?”
“It was easier to be mad at you than to accept that I’m the only reason my life is falling apart. Every time I think I’ve come to terms with it, made peace with what I felt I had to do… I remember how much I’m missing out on because one bad guy got under my skin.” Casey sighed, finally maintaining enough mental clarity to find a reason for her hot and cold emotions, and once it was in the air, spoken between the both of you, any problem faded away. “I’m sorry.”
“All is already forgiven.” You whisper as you lean in close, humming softly against her lips when she kisses you sweetly.
The woman looking up at you from the low sofa was not the one you were expecting. Strawberry blonde hair shining in the overhead light, fierce green eyes, full pink lips, she was the kind of woman that would devastate your heart with so little effort. Leaning your hip on the doorway, you checked the door again, certain you were in the right place. It was just like you remembered from all the hours you’d spent staying out of trouble under the watchful gaze of your aunt during your more rebellious years as a teenager.
“Not last time I checked,” the mystery woman said.
Her eyes swept over you, assessing in a way that made your nerves vibrate. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, letting her look her fill, hoping you’d pass muster. You didn’t even know her name, and yet you wanted this woman’s approval.
“I didn’t realise Judge Donnelly had a niece,” she said, her voice a low timbre.
“I have two, and don’t even think about it.”
You whirled, finding your aunt standing behind you, the kind of look that once had you quaking in your boots on her face. Instead, your face split into a huge grin. Her face softened upon seeing you, not in a way most people would notice, but she’d been your favourite person by the time you’d graduated high school and moved away for college. She was the only reason you’d managed to get in somewhere decent. Somehow, despite all your raging against The Man, she’d kept you on track. Your sister had never understood your relationship with her, being one of the people who quaked under her gaze.
“Guess who’s back,” you said, giving her some nice jazz hands to drive your point home.
“No wonder the amount of the trouble in the city has increased,” she said.
“You missed me. Just admit it,” you said, knowing you were being the kind of cheeky that could get you told off.
She sighed but her embrace was tight. You closed your eyes, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume. You’d missed it more than you could possibly put into words.
“So you finally finished grad school,” she said once you’d drawn away.
“I’m a bonafide doctor now. No way you can go around telling everyone I’m your wayward niece. You can just admit I’m your favourite without shame,” you said.
“And you’re a doctor in what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Something very interesting and not at all practical, just like God intended,” you said.
She shook her head but you saw the way her lips curled up into a smile. She finally entered her office, you trailing after her. The woman, still an unknown, had been watching with a rapt attention that kept making your skin prickle. Your eyes darted down to her, teeth sinking into your lower lip again.
“Please tell me you haven’t returned to the city looking for a hand out,” your aunt said as she sat in her chair behind her imposing desk.
“I’ll have you know I have actual employment like a productive member of society,” you said.
She scoffed but it was the fond kind, not the kind that said you were in danger. You were achingly familiar with both.
“No, seriously. My supervisor knew a guy in the English department at NYU and put in a good word for me,” you said, “I’m teaching intro to the Romantics this year.”
“A worthwhile endeavour I’m sure,” she said.
“Hey, critical thinking is an important skill. Plus, reciting poetry always goes down well when trying to score a date,” you said, falling back on the couch. Only as your arm brushed hers did you remember someone was already occupying it.
“Tell me you didn’t spend all those years at college just to pick up women,” she said with an eye roll.
“That wasn’t the only reason. It was just an added benefit.” You winked at the woman sitting next to you, lips pulling up into a smirk.
“Get out,” your aunt said.
Your eyes shot back over to her but she was looking at the woman beside you.
“You asked me to come see you,” she said.
“Later,” she said.
She stared at your aunt for a moment before she collected up her papers back into the file they’d originally come from. You watched her leave, appreciating the pencil skirt she was in.
“Who was that?” you asked once the door was closed and you knew she wouldn’t hear you.
“ADA Casey Novak and if she knows what’s good for her she’ll stay away from you,” she replied.
“Aw, are you getting all protective, Aunty Liz? You’ll be putting Dad out of a job,” you said.
“Oh, I’m trying to protect her. You’re a hurricane of trouble,” she said.
“Maybe I’ve grown up. It has been a while since I’ve lived here,” you said.
“Stay away from my ADA,” she said, using her commanding voice.
She should have known better. You’d always wanted what you weren’t allowed. And you wanted Casey Novak.
Over the next few weeks you were around your aunt’s office a lot more, traversing the halls as you reacquainted yourself with the building. Keeping your eye out for a certain strawberry blonde, you’d wander around as you waited for your new job to start. Your aunt, doing her best to ignore what you were doing, put up with your impromptu visits with grace.
Sitting in on one of her trials, you found yourself coming face to face with Casey Novak again. Or rather, you could lean back and watch her dominate in the court room. It sent a flutter through your body and an itch in your fingers to sink into her. She was magnificent, a sight to behold, a lion taking down her prey with a precision that was breathtaking.
And from her pursed lips, your aunt was not happy about your presence there to see such a display.
“What are you doing here?” she asked after calling a five minute recess.
“I came to see you in action. I like watching you scare the little people,” you replied, “tell me, I’ve always wanted to know, do you practice that scowl in the mirror or does it come naturally to you?”
“You don’t care about my scowls. You couldn’t keep your eyes off a certain ADA I warned you to stay away from,” she replied.
“Aw, you do care,” you said, “you seriously think I’m going to ruin your ADA?”
Something interesting settled in her face, arms crossed over her chest. You sighed, looking away from her.
“If it means that much to you, Aunty Liz, I won’t do anything with her,” you said, knowing that giving up one gorgeous woman was the least you could do for the woman who kept you from making all the wrong decisions with your life.
She gave you a small smile, one of the fonds one that let you knew you’d made the right decision. It was the kind she gave you any time you came back with an A on a test she’d helped you study for. You sighed.
“But you owe me one. She is insanely hot,” you said, but you were smiling and the sting wasn’t so bad when it was your decision to follow the rules.
You left the courthouse, knowing you had prep work to do before the semester started. No more stalking the halls hoping to run into Casey Novak by “coincidence” and strike up a conversation that might end in her bed. She was just another gorgeous woman who would remain a ‘what if’.
It was easy to push thoughts of her to the side in the flurry of semester beginning. You couldn’t believe how much work went into teaching a college course, your sympathy going out to every professor you’d ever had. Especially those teaching your intro classes, when freshmen came in with all the confidence they hadn’t earned.
“When did becoming devil’s advocate become the cool thing for boys to do?” you asked.
Your aunt looked up at you from over the rim of her glasses, looking less than impressed with your question. You sighed, slumping back against her sofa. On one of the few days you weren’t teaching, you’d sought refuge in the only place you knew would offer you both a slap over the head and a warm hug. Using the pretence of lunch, you’d brought her food and your frustration.
“Okay, sure, they’ve always kind of been like that but now I have to hold my tongue and not go off on how stupid they are,” you complained.
“Yes, because now you’re the adult in the room,” she replied with all the judgement held in her body in her voice.
“How do you manage it?” you asked, looking at her again, “I’ve seen some of your cases. You’ve dealt with some real…”
You couldn’t find the right word.
“Assholes?”
You turned, finding the only woman in the city you were forbidden from even thinking about standing in the doorway. Your aunt’s eyes darted to yours then back to Casey Novak and you saw the warning there.
“You said it, not me,” you said with a small laugh.
The way she stepped into the room had you forcing yourself to look away. Her hips were swaying with a cockiness you’d attempted to pull off plenty of times and had never quite managed. If you kept staring you might never stop.
“Did you need something, Casey?” your aunt asked.
“The Jensen case,” she replied.
“I’ll get out of your hair,” you said, standing, collecting up your rubbish.
Your shoulder brushed Casey Novak’s as you passed her, a jolt of electricity going through you. Your gaze caught on hers as you passed and you felt your breath still.
It was a good thing you loved your aunt so much or else you’d be in trouble.
Taking yourself out for coffee was becoming one of your Saturday traditions. A worn paperback in your hands and a corner table with your caffeine fix and some kind of pastry was easily becoming your favourite part of your week. It was early enough in your weekend that you didn’t feel guilty for not having started on any of the work you still had to get done for Monday morning. You could relax, taking time for yourself.
“Is this seat taken?”
You glanced up, expecting someone looking to steal the other seat and take it to their table. Instead, green eyes were looking down at you, pretty pink lips curling up into a half smile. Casey Novak, in jeans and a t-shirt, hair pulled back, was standing before you in the morning light, looking like a dream come to life.
“Not at all,” you said.
She sat, legs spreading just enough to make you wonder if she was doing it on purpose. Leaning back in the chair, her eyes slid over you, leaving fire in their wake. You took a slow slip from your coffee, tongue dragging over your lower lip as you put the cup down.
“Is there something I can do for you, ADA Casey Novak?” you asked when her gaze darkened.
“You can start by just calling me Casey,” she said.
She thanked the waiter as he placed a coffee in front of her. You watched her take her first sip, her eyes closing in bliss. She placed the cup down again, turning that burning gaze on you.
“So what do you want, Casey?” you asked.
“Knowing your name would be a start,” she said.
The way it sounded on her lips as she repeated it made you shiver. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip again and you saw her focus on it, leaning forward slightly. The heat that went through you was searing and the throb was insistent, keeping time with your racing heart.
This was dangerous.
“Judge Donnelly is very determined to keep us from running into one another,” she said, a soft hum of a voice.
“So you thought you’d hunt me down to see what all the fuss is about?” you asked.
“Call it a happy coincidence. I was passing by, you happened to be here, no planning involved,” she said, “so your aunt can’t crucify me for taking the opportunity to say hello.”
“Do you always do what you’re told not to do?” you asked, tilting your head towards her.
“Not always. Only if it sounds fun,” she said, her smirk making your heart flutter. This felt too much like flirting.
“You’re going to get me in trouble, ADA Casey Novak,” you said, leaning away from her.
“Nothing wrong with a little trouble,” she said.
Certainly not when trouble looked like a smirking Casey Novak.
“And besides, who needs to know? I don’t see you ratting us out to Donnelly,” she said.
Her fingers brushed over the back of your hand, sending sparks up your arm. Your lips parted as your hand flipped, offering her your palm. They traced over it, the feeling of her touch burning through you. You weren’t proud of yourself for giving in so easily, but pretty women had always been your downfall.
“I promised her,” you whispered.
“We’re not doing anything. It’s just coffee,” she said, the definition of temptation.
“You’re used to getting your way, aren’t you?”
“I’m used to getting what I want,” she said and you found it intoxicating the way her eyes smouldered as they looked at you.
“I suppose she didn’t say anything about not having coffee together,” you said slowly.
Her satisfaction was obvious in the smug set of her shoulders. You laughed and something in her face brightened.
“What are you reading?” she asked, nodding down to your book as her finger continued to trace patterns into your palm.
“Frankenstein,” you said, nudging it closer to her, “I can’t read poetry every moment of every day.”
“Do you really recite it to pick up women?” she asked, picking up your old book, the spine cracked to the point it fell open in her hand.
“Thy soul was like a star and dwelt apart/thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea,” you recited to her.
You saw a flush bloom high on her cheeks, eyes sparkling as she seemed to lose whatever smart comeback she had. You grinned, hiding it behind your coffee cup, lowering your eyes in a show of false modesty. You liked seeing her a bit flustered, finding it enchanting.
“I suppose I can see the appeal,” she said eventually.
“Wordsworth has yet to fail me,” you said, fluttering your eyelashes at her.
She pushed your novel back across the table to you and then downed her coffee. Her fingers threaded through yours, palm to palm, making you feel like you were losing control of the situation already.
“Did your aunt happen to say anything about ice cream?” she asked.
You shook your head, teeth sinking into your lip again. She grinned, standing, pulling you with her.
“Then let me show you the best ice cream in the city,” she said.
Later, when she’d managed to convince you to return to her apartment with her, she tasted of danger. And trouble. And everything that could destroy you.
When you returned home early Monday morning you were buzzing. You could still feel her lips on your skin and her taste was burnt onto your tongue. Hickeys littered your body and you were deliciously sore. You still smelt like her and you wanted her perfume to linger on your skin for as long as possible.
Maybe Aunty Liz had been onto something about staying away from her.
When she called on Tuesday night you didn’t hesitate to pick up. Lying on your couch, drink in hand, you pressed the phone to your ear as her smokey voice whispered to you.
“Please tell me your day was better than mine,” she requested without even a hello.
“I suppose that depends on how your day was,” you said.
“My case got thrown out,” she said.
“That sucks. Sorry,” you said, “I had a student tell me that only men know how to write romantic poetry.”
“Do you write poetry?” she asked.
“Only of middling talent,” you replied, “nothing worth repeating.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. You are a doctor after all,” she said with a small laugh.
“That brag was for my aunt, not for you,” you replied but you were chuckling too.
“Lucky me for being in the room,” she said.
A knock sounded on your door.
“Hang on,” you said, standing up with a groan.
Pulling the door open you should have been expecting the woman on the other side of the door but you hadn’t been. Her lips pulled up into a smile and you held the door open wider for her. Her fingers brushed the back of your hand as she stepped inside.
“I’m going to have to call you back,” you said into the phone, “a devastatingly sexy woman just arrived.”
She tossed her cell phone on the couch with a laugh. Your hands landed on her hips, pushing her back until you had her pinned to the wall. Her hands cupping your cheeks dragged you up onto your toes to kiss her, long and slow and deep. She hummed into the kiss, the vibrations going through you.
“Make me forget my day,” she requested when you finally pulled away.
You dragged her to your room, more than happy to oblige. You lowered her onto the bed, crawling up her body. Your hands were seeking her skin, pushing up under the skintight turtleneck she had on. Just the sight of it was driving you crazy, remembering the feeling of her curves in her hands. You kissed her again, not able to stop yourself.
She sighed when you pulled her shirt over her head, your hands finding home on her skin. Your thumb brushed over her ribcage from your hand’s place on her waist. Your lips ghosted down her body, feeling her tremble.
“There witching beauty greets the ravished sight/more gentle than the arbitress night,” you whispered into her skin.
She made such a soft noise, one that suggested her chest was caving in. You brushed your lips over the curve of her breast, enjoying the way her breathy moan spurred you on. Wrapping your lips around one peaked nipple, you laved attention on her. She arched into your, fingers winding though your hair. As you sucked, your name fell like a curse from her lips.
Your fingers were quick as they unbuttoned her slacks. Slipping your hand into her panties, you stroked through her folds. Her hips pressed up against your hand, wordlessly begging for more. You kissed across to the other breast, finding the yellowing hickey you’d left only a few days ago. With your tongue, you circled her other hardening nipple, teeth grazing over it for a moment.
“You’re so good at that,” she groaned, fingers tightening in your hair.
You grinned against her as you finger found her clit. Her breathy sigh was gratifying in ways you couldn’t put into words. Slowly, you kissed down her chest, hand slipping from her panties as you grasped her hips. You dragged her slacks down long legs you still remembered curling around you on the weekend.
“You’re so beautiful,” you said, looking up her body.
Your mouth made contact with her throbbing cunt. Keeping a tight hold on her hips, you pressed closer, tongue sweeping through her folds. You moaned at her taste, still addicted to it, the novelty of having her like this not yet having worn off. Staring up your body, you watched as her eyes squeezed closed, fingers fisting in your comforter.
Your tongue dipped into her entrance and a shaky curse fell from her lips. She was so beautiful as her face contorted with pleasure. Wrapping your lips around her bundle of nerves, you suckled as she whimpered above you. You held her in place, refusing to let her use you the way she wanted. You were going to take care of her.
Lifting her legs over your shoulders, you pressed her into the mattress. You couldn’t get enough of her, wanting to spend hours with her doing this. When she came, it was with your name on her lips, the sound of it going right through you.
You were slow to kiss back up her body, finding her lips waiting for you. She kissed you with an enthusiasm that had you groaning. Flipping you, she gazed down at you, lips pulling up into a smirk that was growing familiar.
“You’re entirely too clothed,” she murmured.
“You’d better do something about that then,” you said.
The next morning you woke with her arm flung around your waist and her face buried in your neck. It wasn’t a conscious decision to begin running your fingers through her hair, but when she pressed closer with a soft sigh you didn’t feel the need to stop. You closed your eyes again, nose burying in her hair, breathing in the scent of her perfume again.
“I need to get up,” she mumbled, lips brushing your skin.
“Don’t,” you whispered, “stay.”
“I can’t,” she said, “I need to go fight for my case to be reinstated.”
“You can do that?” you asked.
“If the detectives have found new evidence,” she replied, slow to sit up.
Your eyes tracked over the swathes of skin on display, feeling your mouth water. Something about Casey was addictive to you, making you desperate for more even after hours spent indulging in her body the night before.
“So committed,” you murmured, fingers tracing down her spine, “that’s pretty fucking hot.”
She turned, looking over her shoulder at you. Dark eyes swept over your body, half exposed from where the covers had pooled around her hips. You arched your back, offering more to her gaze.
“And if I win and this rapist goes behind bars, I’ll come back to celebrate with you,” she said.
“Promise?” You tried to smoulder, the way she did that made you feel electric.
She smiled, leaning own to press her lips to yours.
“Promise,” she whispered against your mouth.
She called you by the end of the week. You dressed up all pretty, in a nice dress and a nice pair of heels, hoping to make her head spin the ways yours always did. Meeting her at the restaurant, your breath caught at the sight of the smile she gave you. Then it moved double time as an appreciative look came into her eye.
“If this is what I get for winning a case, I think my conviction rate will go up,” she said, gaze slow to move down your body and then up again before meeting your eye, “you look breathtaking.”
You took her in, the silk dress clinging to her curves, her hair swept up in an elegant undo. Green was certainly her colour. Reaching out, your finger ran along the chain of the necklace she was wearing, watching the way a flush rose to her cheeks.
“You shouldn’t be allowed out like this,” you murmured.
“You don’t like how I look tonight?” she asked.
“I like it entirely too much,” you said, finger stopping at the base of her throat, “the things I want to do to you…”
“There’ll be plenty of time for that later,” she chuckled, “patience, sweetheart.”
“I can be patient,” you replied.
“I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”
Seated across from her, it was hard to look away. Her foot brushed your calf, sending a jolt through you. The way she was looking at you over her menu suggested you were what she was hoping to devour. You’d let her.
Placing your order, she took you through the trail, her voice soothing where the details were traumatic. Her foot kept bumping against yours under the table and each time her lips would quirk up. You found yourself leaning towards her, not able to stop yourself. Her gravity seemed only to affect you.
“But you didn’t ask for a blow by blow of the case,” she said, shaking her head after the food was placed down in front of you.
“I like listening to you,” you said.
“You do?” she asked, a surprise look crossing her face.
“Is that really so surprising?” Your fingertips brushed the back of her hand before retracting, “you have a way with words and the kind of voice I could listen to for hours.”
Something broke over her face, cracking open into a look of wonder. Your breath caught, not sure what to do with such a lovely expression on such a beautiful face. It was baffling that you could bring that out in someone like her.
“I’m beginning to see why your aunt wanted to keep us apart,” she said.
“What do you mean?” That was not what you were expecting to say.
“She knew I’d never let you go once I had you,” she said.
Your face softened into a smile. Reaching across the table, you threaded your fingers through hers, enjoying the feel of skin against skin. Her fingers tightened around yours, squeezing for a moment before she released you, beginning to eat.
“And here I was thinking the poetry was the way to seduce you, not the compliments,” you said, picking up your own fork, “might have to switch tracks if I want to keep you around.”
“I like the poetry,” she said, eyes darting up to you.
“And if I was reciting it to someone else…?” you prompted, wondering what was going through her head.
“Are you?” she asked, her gaze sharpening.
“Would it matter if I was?” you asked in response.
“I don’t like to share,” she said, her voice lowering, making you press your thighs together.
You took a slow sip from the wine she’d ordered. Her eyes darkened, lips pursing in a way that suggested you might be in trouble.
“So tell me, sweetheart, have you been reciting your poetry to someone else?” she asked.
“Not recently,” you said.
“How long?” she asked, and you were worried you were walking a razor edge with her.
“A few months,” you replied.
“What happened a few months ago?” she asked but you saw her lips begin to curl up into a small smile.
“I met a beautiful ADA and despite trying to be good, she was very convincing in tempting me to be naughty,” you replied.
She lent forward, her hand finding yours again. Tugging it up, her lips pressed a lingering kiss to your skin, making your breath catch. Your foot bumped hers under the table.
“Do you regret it?” she asked.
“I’m not sure I could ever regret you, Casey Novak,” you replied.
“So you don’t want to stop?” she asked.
“When Aunty Liz finds out, we’ll deal with the fallout then,” you said.
“When?” She raised an eyebrow at you.
“If you’re planning on never letting me go, it’ll have to come out eventually. We can’t keep it a secret forever,” you said.
“Eventually.” Her lips pressed to the back of your hand again, “but for now I want to keep you all to myself.”
The thought was pleasing. You held her gaze for a long moment, the weight of it all crashing into you. Your heart thumped in your chest, tripping over itself. You saw possibilities sparkling in her eyes, and the potential future you could build spiralling out before you.
“Who from the cup of amorous delight/dashes the sparkling draught of brilliant delight,” you murmured before taking a sip from your glass of wine. The way she looked at you was like you were something from out of space, beautiful and wonderful and completely unknowable. It was a heady mix.
She didn’t let you return home all weekend.
You slipped back into the monotony of your work come Monday, working through what you should have done on the weekend. It had been easy to forget the stack of papers you had to mark when her mouth was on you and you were gasping her name. It should have scared you, how easy it was to lose yourself in her, but you’d known the first time you’d seen her that she could render you into nothing. You welcomed it.
On Wednesday morning, when a note was sitting on your desk, you rolled your eyes. Curt, to the point, three words that gave you all you needed to know. You put it aside, booting up your computer.
Your aunt didn’t bother standing as you slid into the chair across from her. The food in front of you was what you’d always ordered, your favourite thing on the menu. Especially when she was buying.
“You summoned?” you said, raising an eyebrow at her.
“I haven’t heard from you in a while. I was worried you’d gotten yourself into trouble,” she said.
“I don’t remember you being my parol officer,” you said, taking a bite of your lunch.
“Nothing you feel the need to tell me?” she asked.
“How about you just tell me what’s on your mind and then I can tell you. Or not, depending what it is,” you said with a wicked grin and a small shrug.
“You always go to work with a hickey on your neck?” she asked.
“Only if I had fun the night before,” you said, which you had.
“Do I want to know?” she asked.
“Are you asking for details about my sex life, Aunty Liz?” you shot back.
“Please, I’m trying to eat,” she said, indicating her soup.
“Don’t ask if you don’t want to know,” you said, “so why did you really ask me for lunch?”
“It’s my duty to check in on you. If not, who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get into,” she said.
“Don’t pretend, I know you care. You worry about me.”
She didn’t answer but you knew the truth.
“Are you going to tell me about the girl who’s giving you fun nights?” she asked after a moment of silence.
“Eventually, I’m sure,” you said with a small shrug, knowing you couldn’t tell her, “all you need to know is right now I’m very happy.”
“Clearly.” Her gaze lingered on the hickey you hadn’t bothered covering up that morning, “you know, you’re not the only one who’s coming to work looking less than presentable.”
“You got something to tell me, Aunty Liz?” you poked, trying not to grin at her like a menace. Her beleaguered sigh only made your grin grow.
“ADA Novak has worn the same outfit twice in a row more than once over the last few weeks. Right around the time you stopped calling me incessantly,” she said.
“Lucky girl,” you said.
“And you know nothing about it?” she asked.
“I made you a promise,” you said.
“So it’s just a coincidence?” Her penetrating gaze made you shift in your seat. You’d never been good at lying to her.
“Seems like it.” You looked down at your food, “it’s not a shock two hot women happen to both be getting laid.”
“Okay, you can stop.”
“Good because neither of us is enjoying this,” you said.
She was more than happy to drop the topic. You moved on to much nicer things, like work and how your mother was repainting her kitchen much to your father’s annoyance. She had strong opinions on your sister’s latest boyfriend. You did too.
It was easier when you weren’t talking about Casey.
You started being more careful. You kept the hickeys to places you couldn’t see with your clothes on. She left early enough to get home or brought a change of clothes with her. And you made sure you were never seen anywhere your aunt might be.
Mostly, you spent time in her apartment, curled up in the bubble of the whole thing. You couldn’t understand why your aunt had been so against you seeing her. Everything about her was wonderful, and you’d never felt so sure about a decision before.
“Listen to this,” you said, looking over the top of one of the essays you were marking, “‘he made nature a woman because as everyone knows women are weak and they break under the passion of a man’s love.’ Can you believe that?”
“Yes,” she said, “you should hear some of the stuff men say to justify what they do.”
“I couldn’t do your job,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“That’s why I do it, and why you talk about poetry all day,” she said.
“Is that judgement I hear?”
You placed the essay down, crawling towards her on the couch on all fours. She lent back, watching you with the kind of look in her eye that made you want to submit to her. Her legs spread, offering you the perfect place to stop. Your hands on her knees helped you to push up, drawing closer to her.
“Do you think I don’t have a real job?” you asked, “that I’m just a silly artist who contributes nothing to society?”
“You contribute plenty,” she said, one hand gently cupping your jaw, forcing you to look up at her.
“Do I?” you asked.
“Keeping me happy makes me better at my job. You do your part in putting away all the bad guys,” she said, slow to lean towards you.
“Better make sure you’re on top form tomorrow then, hadn’t I?”
Your marking could wait.
Casey let you stay at her place when your heating went out in the middle of winter break. Curled up in her bed, book in hand, half sprawled against the headboard, you let the hours pass. The door opened and closed again. Looking up, your eyes itched and you realised it had gotten later than you’d expected.
“Hey,” you said when Casey appeared in the doorway.
She looked exhausted, the slope of her shoulders, her heavy footsteps. Your heart ached for her. Her fingers weren’t careful as she unbuttoned her blouse, dropping her slacks to the floor. You still stared every time you saw her naked body, not quite believing you were allowed to see it. She was so beautiful.
She wiggled under the covers, depositing herself on top of you. Her arms curled around your waist, cold hands pressing to your skin as the buried under your sweater. Her face was buried in your neck. With your free hand you stroked a long line down her spine before curling your arm around her waist, feeling her let out a long sigh.
“Long day?” you murmured, lips brushing against her temple.
“Don’t want to talk about it,” she replied, muffled against your neck, arms tightening around you.
“Okay,” you said
In a soft voice, you began reading your book out loud to her until her breathing began to even out. It took a while, her muscles slow to relax. You would read to her all night if it would help, whatever she needed. When she finally dropped off, you gazed down at her, finding yourself enraptured. This was the kind of moment you made sure was burned into your memory.
You ignored the way she made you feel. You pushed away the thought that you were falling for this woman. Even as you knew it was true.
The wolf whistle that passed through your lips was loud. You grinned when Casey’s steps faltered, her eyes seeking you out. She sauntered towards you, an extra swing to her hips when she found you. Leaning back against the pillar you’d been waiting against, you watched her, not even bothering to hide your appreciation.
“I thought I saw you earlier,” she said, coming to a stop in front of you.
“I had to drop something off with my aunt. Thought I’d sneak a glimpse when I got the chance,” you said.
“And?” Her head tilted to the side, crowding you against the pillar without touching you.
“And I think you’re something amazing,” you replied.
Her free hand reached out, fingers tangling with yours.
“Bit risky doing this when your aunt is just inside,” she said.
“She’s stuck in court for the next little while,” you said, “plus, it’s been months and she hasn’t brought it up again. I think we’re in the clear.”
“Lucky us,” she said.
“So can I take you to lunch?” you asked.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” she asked.
“I’m not sure I care,” you replied, then decided to pull out the big guns, “a poet could not but be gay/in such jocund company.”
Your fingertips brushed over her cheekbone.
“Fine, but you’re paying,” she said.
You took it as a win.
You gasped for breath, falling forward onto your elbows. The only sound was the slap of skin and your breathless moans. Casey’s hands were tight on your hips, leaving bruises on your skin. You pressed your hips back, your whines asking for more.
“You like that, sweetheart?” Casey asked, dragging her strap out of you.
“Uh huh,” was all you managed to say.
“Perfect little toy for my cock,” she said, slamming back into you.
You cried out as she hit that place inside of you that made you see heaven. Her name was nothing but a prayer on your lips.
“You were made for this, weren’t you?” she said, “God made you just for me to fuck.”
Her thrusts became rougher, harder, making you see stars. You were so close, feeling the wave about to crash into you. Your entire body was a live wire, every thrust making your head spin.
A loud banging on your door had Casey freezing.
“Ignore it. Whoever it is will go away,” you said, breathless and desperate.
She waited a moment for the knocking to stop before she slowly retracted from you before slowly pushing back in. Your whimper was pathetic, making her chuckle as she readjusted her hold on you.
The banging started on your door again.
Casey sighed, pulling full out of you. You growled, turning, the liquid heat in your veins calling out for more. The throbbing was unbearable. You’d been so close.
“Go handle that, sweetheart,” she said, running a hand through her hair, “then I’ll take care of you.”
You grumbled as you rose onto unsteady legs. Wrapping your robe around your naked body, you did your best to stride towards the door. Pulling it open, you were brought up short at the woman on the other side.
“Don’t tell me you were still in bed,” your aunt said.
“Okay. I won’t tell you,” you replied.
You glanced back over your shoulder, clutching your robe tighter around you.
“Are you going to invite me in?” she asked, her expectant look making you freeze.
“I wasn’t expecting you, Aunty Liz. I’m not exactly set up for company,” you replied.
“Or at least not company you have to be dressed for,” she said.
“What are you doing here?”
She pushed past you into your apartment. You were slow to close the door, hoping she’d leave, still feeling the slickness between your thighs begging you to go back to Casey and finish what you’d started. Her eyes slowly took in your place, lingering on the two cups of coffee on your counter.
“Am I finally going to meet your mystery woman?” she asked, turning to look at you.
“No,” you said, “did you need something or were just hoping to cock block me?”
“You’ve been dodging your mother’s calls. Call her back so she stops bugging me,” she said.
“Sorry. She just won’t shut up about redoing the living room and there’s only so long I can discuss the merits of eggshell vs seashell,” you said, running your fingers through your messy hair.
“Just call her,” she said, “I’d like not to repeat this experience.”
“That makes two of us,” you muttered.
The bedroom door was pulled open and your heart stopped in your chest. Both you and your aunt were slow to turn to the figure that had frozen in the doorway. Casey, wrapped in a sheet, cheeks still flushed and eyes wide, was staring back.
“Uh… it’s not what it looks like?” you tried when you got your voice back.
The look she gave you was withering. You shrunk under it, knowing the game was up. There was no talking your way out of this. Her jaw clenched and the tension in her body was enough to snap.
“I believe you gave me a promise,” she said, voice cold enough to give you hypothermia.
“I’m sorry,” you said, voice shrinking under her glare, “it just kind of… happened.”
“And when I asked you about it, you lied right to my face,” she said.
“What was I meant to do? You were so determined I should have nothing to do with her. An opinion I don’t understand and certainly don’t share,” you said, knowing you were sounding like the petulant teenager who had been dumped on her all those years ago.
“You don’t have to share my opinion but you gave me your word,” she said.
“Don’t blame her,” Casey said, finally stepping into the room properly, “I started this.”
“You also gave me your word,” she said, turning on her, eyes flashing dangerously.
“That’d ridiculous. You can have a say in my personal life but one of your ADAs? Seriously, Aunt Liz?” you demanded, “that’s gotta be some kind of abuse of power.”
“Don’t start,” she snapped.
“It’s fine,” Casey said to you.
“No. It’s totally an infringement on your rights. She can’t ask that of you,” you said.
“Sweetheart, she didn’t ask me as my boss,” she said.
“Fine, then I’ll be angry about it on my behalf. You can ask me but not other people,” you said, rounding on your aunt.
“Did you ever think that maybe I had good reason for telling you to stay away from her?” your aunt asked.
“So why did you?” you asked.
Her eyes flicked to Casey who was looking between the two of you like she was desperate to leave this situation. You shook your head, turning away from her.
“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done and unfortunately for you we’re happy together. I think it’s time for you to leave,” you said, gesturing back towards the door, “I’ll talk to Mom.”
You didn’t bother looking at her as she left your apartment, the door loud in the silence left in her wake. Your stomach was unsettled, a toxic mix of anxiety and anger, and all you could do was stare at Casey. The color had drained from her face and there was nothing you could do.
“Kind of a mood killer, huh?” you said, hoping to break the tension.
“I should probably go,” she said before disappearing back into your bedroom.
“What? No.” You followed her, “you don’t have to. We don’t have to let her ruin our weekend.”
She didn’t look at you as she dragged her clothes back onto her body. A chill went over you, leaving you off balance and unsure. All you could do was watch as she put herself back together.
“I’ll call you,” she said, hand gently cupping your chin as she kissed your cheek.
The door slammed shut behind her and you fell back onto your mattress, the first tear falling. You’d known it was going to be awful when Liz found out, but you hadn’t thought Casey would be sent running. You’d stupidly assumed her feelings were strong enough to take the hit of your aunt’s disappointment.
She never called.
You kept to yourself for a few weeks, waiting, hoping she’d come back. Any time you called her it went to voicemail and she never called back. You stayed home, ordering takeout you didn’t want and left mostly uneaten. You curled up on the couch, stumbling through the days, wondering what you’d done wrong. Because you must have done something wrong for her to disappear from your life like that.
It took a lot of pride for you to drag your overwrought body over to your aunt’s. It was late enough you thought she’d be at home, but your knocks went unanswered. Sinking down onto her front steps, you lent against the ice cold metal of the handrail debating letting yourself freeze to it. It would be easier than continuing on in the hole you’d found yourself in.
“You make a sad sight.”
You blinked up at the woman towering over you. With a sigh, you hauled yourself to your feet, using the handrail to hold yourself up. Your aunt considered you for a moment before pushing past you to unlock her front door.
“You’d better come in,” she said, “can’t have you freezing to death out here.”
You trudged after her, letting yourself be enveloped in the familiar home you’d spent so many hours in. Her steady hand on your shoulder pushed you down onto her couch, disappearing out the back into where you knew the kitchen was.
A warm mug was placed in you hands, painful against your frozen fingers. You sighed, staring down into the steaming tea, the same brand she’d been stocking for you since you started sleeping over when life got too much for you.
“I sense I’m going to regret this, but do you want to talk?” she asked, lowering into the leather armchair that felt synonymous with her.
“Why didn’t you want me to pursue Casey?” you asked.
You’d been wrong. Your aunt always had a reason for asking things of you and she’d yet to be wrong. This was all your fault by not listening to her. So you had to know why she’d been so adamant this time.
“What’s happened?” she asked in return.
“I haven’t heard from her since you found out. She won’t take my calls. She won’t come see me. So I guess it’s over. I should have listened to you,” you said, staring down into your mug of tea. You took a slow sip. It was the same thing that had been going through your head for days now.
“Yes, you should have.” Your head snapped up to her.
“You knew this would happen?” you asked.
“I knew Casey Novak is a heartbreaker. She’s beautiful and smart and passionate. Makes her a damn good ADA. But the moment I saw the way she was looking at you I knew she was interested. And the way you looked at her said you were too,” she said, “you’ve never been able to lie to me.”
“So why did you tell me to stay away from her?” you asked.
“I think you forget I know you. She’s the exact kind of woman you’d destroy yourself for. I didn’t want to see you get your heart broken,” she said and you were surprised by how soft she could make her voice.
“So it wasn’t because you didn’t want me to distract your best prosecutor?” you asked.
“Distract her. Break her heart. I don’t care. It’s your heart I was trying to protect,” she replied.
“So much for that.” You slumped back, staring into your mug like it held all the answers, “I really fell for her.”
“I know you did,” she said.
“When you brought her up over lunch all those months ago…?” you asked, finally looking up at her again, realising what she’d said about lying.
“I knew you were lying to me. Foolishly, I thought it would lose its charm if I stop telling you what to do. I should have known better,” she said.
“I really thought she was falling for me too.”
And then the tears came. Your Aunt Liz had never been a cuddler, but the squeeze of her arm around you and her steady shoulder beneath your head was exactly what you needed. She let you cry until there were no more tears and then sent you upstairs to bed.
By the morning you felt a smidge better. Less pathetic at least. You stayed the weekend with her, reverting back to your teenage self, letting someone else look after you for once. And so you called out sick on Monday and followed her to work.
Her sharp look was all the opinion she was going to give you. After you’d told her your plan the night before she’d made her disapproval clear. But you needed to do it. For your own peace of mind.
Slipping into Casey’s office, you shut the door with a quiet click. Your heart squeezed as she looked up at you. The expression that went over her face would be enough to bring the tears on again if you hadn’t done your best to harden yourself to her. But there were dark circles under her eyes and it looked like she hadn’t slept since you’d last seen her.
“Hi,” you said, leaning back against her door.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“You never called.”
Green eyes darted away from you, the hands clasped on her desk tightening. You’d grown used to reading her body language and this was not a good sign.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but if you wanted to end things I wish you’d just told me,” you said, leaving the safety of the door, “I mean, I got the message but it would have been nice if you could have just said something.”
“I’m sorry,” she said on a sigh.
You stared up at the ceiling, doing your best to keep from exploding your emotions all over her office. You heard the scrape of her chair pushing back. You focused on the light hanging above.
“Hope is a thing with feathers/that perches in the soul/and sings the tune without the words/and never stops at all,” you whispered.
A broken breath passed through parted lips. You inhaled sharply, turning your gaze back to her. Her eyes were swimming with an emotion you couldn’t name, tears welling, threatening to fall. You shook your head, looking down to your fingers, twisting together until you thought they might break under the strain.
“I really thought you liked me,” you said, “enough to handle my aunt’s disapproval. But I guess I was the idiot who fell for someone who didn’t feel the same.”
She stayed silent.
“She finally told me why she didn’t want us to get together. She knew you were going to break my heart. Next time I think about ignoring her advice I’ll come back to this moment,” you said.
She was still staring at you in silence. You shook your head looking away, disappointment welling in you again.
“That’s all I wanted you to know. I’ll leave you alone now.”
You turned to go, your sigh heavy. You should have expected this. She couldn’t even handle having a conversation to end things with you. As if she was going to say anything when you tried to have one. Still, at least you got it off your chest. That was really all you wanted to do. Your hand landed on the doorknob.
“Wait!”
You froze, not used to hearing such desperation in her voice. The ache in your chest only got worse. You didn’t turn around, but you didn’t turn the doorknob either, hung between one decision and the next.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, and you could just imagine the tear spilling down her cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut.
“I wanted to call. I did. But…” You heard her take a deep breath in, “I’m not good when it becomes real.”
“What does that mean?” You turned, surprised at the spike of anger you felt making your heart beat double time.
“It means the last time I let myself fall in love in went badly. He… It’s not important, but I haven’t been able to let myself get that vulnerable again,” she said, looking at you like that explained everything.
“So this was nothing but a bit of fun for you?” you asked, “you never cared about me?”
“No!” Her hands grasped your forearm, the first touch of bare skin you’d had from her in weeks making your head spin, “no. Maybe that’s how it started but no.”
“Then make it make sense, Casey. If it mattered to you then why did you disappear? Why did you do this?” you demanded.
“Because I cared.”
She thrust her fingers into the front of her hair, gripping at the roots. She turned away from you, the anguish clear on her face. It was like a punch to the gut, sending you reeling. Your shoulders slumped, staring at her as she paced. The impulse to reach out and comfort her was still strong. You hated yourself for it.
“Look, I could ignore the way I was falling for you when it was just us. I could lie to myself and say it was just sex. That I didn’t want more. But then Donnelly was there and you were trying to protect me and I knew. I knew I was in love with you,” she said and you felt your heart break right there in her office.
“You were a coward,” you said, and it wasn’t nice but it was true.
“I was,” she agreed, “I didn’t want to hurt you but I didn’t know how to handle it.”
“You said you’d never let me go,” you said.
“A good line I thought would make you smile,” she said, shaking her head, “I didn’t expect you to actually want it.”
“Do you still love me?” you asked.
“What?” Her brow furrowed.
“After all this, do you still love me?” you asked.
“Does it matter?” she asked in return.
“Just answer the damn question.” You hadn’t expected to get angry but she jumped as you raised your voice.
“Yes,” she said, her voice breathless.
“Good.”
Your hands landed on her hips, forcing her back against her desk. Her lips parted and a flush bloomed over her cheeks. Pushing up onto your toes, your lips ghosted over hers.
“That I did always love/I bring thee proof,” you murmured.
You kissed her then and her whimper was music to your ears. Her arms came up around you, hands pressing between your shoulder blades, keeping you pressed against her. Your tongue swept into her mouth, needing this more than you’d realised. You’d thought this was the end. Instead, warmth was blooming in your chest and you felt giddy as you kissed her deeper. You couldn’t get close enough to her.
She drew back, breath heaving, eyes still closed. You ran your fingertips along her lower lip. She pressed a kiss to them before her eyes slowly blinked open.
“I know you’re scared, and I know you think you’re not good at this, but I’m not letting you go without a fight. I love you, ADA Casey Novak,” you said.
“Just Casey,” she whispered, voice breaking, a tear slipping free.
You wiped it away, then the next and the one after that.
“I don’t deserve you,” she said.
“No, you don’t,” you said, sliding your fingers into her hair, “but lucky for you I’m pigheaded and I’m used to getting what I want. Sound familiar?”
Her chuckle was wet but she pinched your side until you laughed too. She lent forward, forehead pressing to yours. Your hands slid around to interlock at the small of her back.
“So will you pick up when I call you tonight?” you asked.
“I’ll do you one better.” She cupped both your cheeks, tipping your face up towards her, “I’ll give you my spare key and you can be waiting for me when I get home.”
You kissed her again, not able to help yourself. Possibilities tasted so much better when they were coming true.
