geonncannon
in
mmom
Day 16 Fic: "Dinner," Alex/Olivia, SVU
Title: Dinner
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Law & Order SVU
Pairing: Alex/Olivia
Words: 1,141
We meet at the restaurant, as usual, and wait for a table. I can see how exhausted she is and I can tell how she'd rather be anywhere else but here. When the hostess leaves, I put a hand on Olivia's shoulder and whisper, "We can leave if you want. I have some things at my apartment, if you'd rather..."
"No," she interrupts, reaching up to cover my hand with hers. She smiles and says, "It's just been a long day. I'm starving. But I wish I'd gotten off a little earlier so we could have..."
The hostess returns at this inopportune moment, letting us know that a table is ready. We follow her to an isolated table against the far wall, underneath a golden sconce. We give our drink orders and open our menus. As soon as the hostess is gone again, I lean forward. "We could have..."
Olivia looks up at me. "Oh. Nothing."
I smirk and sit back. "You wanted some alone time."
She shrugs and looks at her menu, smiling with guilt.
"Well, there's stuff we could do here..."
Olivia looks up at me, as if I'd just suggested we get on top of the table and make love right there. "Sure, Alex," she says, going back to her menu.
I'm torn between amusement and anger. On the one hand, she's right to mock the idea. She once wanted to take me into the restroom of a museum that was showing some rather explicit lesbian art. I'd refused, red-faced, assuring her that it would somehow get out and my career would be over.
On the other hand... why was it so implausible?
I slipped my foot from my high heel, flexing the toes inside of my flesh-colored pantyhose. I watched her face, sticking my tongue out slightly as I looked innocently down at the menu.
Olivia's first indication of what I'm doing is the appearance of my foot between her knees. She looks up at me, eyebrows arcing, and sits up straighter. "Move your chair forward," I say without looking from my menu. Her chair scrapes across the floor and my foot slips higher between her legs. Her stomach is pressed against the edge of the table and I slide myself forward on the seat of my chair, slouching so the sole of my foot is pressed between her legs.
"What are you trying to accomplish?" she asks, looking back at her menu.
"Excitement," I say. I flex my toes again, pressing the heel against her. I look up to gauge her reaction and see her sucking her bottom lip. She's concentrating extremely hard on the pasta choices, her brow furrowed. I signal the waiter and Olivia's eyes widen in horror.
"Alex," she hisses.
The waiter approaches, bringing our drinks, and I smile up at him. "Hello, I was wondering if you have any specials tonight." I ask as I press my foot against Olivia.
"Tonight's special is the timballo." I move my foot down slightly and press my toes against her. "It's a skillet of spaghetti, marinated onions and peppers, mushrooms, black olives and pepperoni." Bending four of my toes, I use the biggest to draw circles over the material of Olivia's pants. "It comes with your choice of..."
"Mm, yes..." Olivia gasps, eyes snapping open when she realizes she spoke aloud.
"Me, too," I say, closing my menu and handing it to the waiter. "Timballo for both of us."
Olivia is covering her face.
"Would you like that with grilled chicken or Italian sausage?"
"Chicken on both," I say for both of us.
The waiter tells us it will be just a moment and heads away. Olivia glances over her shoulder and leans forward. "Okay. You've made your point."
"Have I?" I ask, slipping my hand under the table.
"Yes. You're adventurous. Now..." she closed her eyes and licks her lips. "Stop it before I get too excited."
"I can't stop it. I'm just getting started."
She notices where my hand is and her eyes widen slightly. "You're not."
I have my skirt pushed up nearly to my hips, my forearm holding my slip out of the way. "This is why you should wear skirts to dinner, Olivia." I'm using two fingers to draw circles on my panties, slowly mimicking the moves my toes are making on Olivia's crotch.
"Do you want me to scream?" she asks. She's gripping the edge of the table now.
"You're not a screamer," I say, completely sure of myself.
"I can be."
"Meg Ryan having an orgasm in the middle of a diner," I say with a smile.
"I'll have what she's having," Olivia says, her voice catching. She looks up at me with an evil glint in her eye. "Are you having what I'm having?"
I close my eyes and tilt my head back. When I look again, Olivia is copying me. We're looking at the ceiling with our eyes closed, my fingers and toes working in concert with each other, working us both towards orgasm. Olivia is closer than I am and I open my eyes, watching her, pressing harder with my foot as her fingers tighten on the edge of the table.
"All righty..."
"Fuck," Olivia groans, startling the waiter as he put her plate in front of her.
He looks between us and says, "I-I'm sorry..."
"Nothing. No. I'm sorry," Olivia says, flushed, pushing her hair out of her face and straightening in her seat. She suddenly squeezes her thighs together, pinning my foot between them.
The waiter places my plate and says, "Will there be anything else?"
"No," Olivia manages to say. The water scurries off and she looks at me, raising an eyebrow. "Well?"
"Well what? Give me back my foot."
"Finish," Olivia says.
I smirk at her and look around, self-conscious all of a sudden. I'm sitting her, my skirt pushed up, touching myself in the middle of a restaurant. I feel like everyone is watching me out of the corner of their eye, like everyone knows what I'm doing.
It's a little thrilling.
I look at Olivia, who is staring at me. I smile back at her and touch myself again. I close my eyes when I feel myself getting close. I lift my hips and grip the edge of the table for balance as I thrust against my hand. "Oh," I breathe when I come, my body going rigid, my foot still trapped between Olivia's powerful thighs.
I sag in my chair again and she frees me. I let my foot drop to the floor, slipping it back into my shoe. "Well," I say, picking up my fork and clearing my throat. We look at our food and then at each other. After a moment, I gingerly put my fork down and said, "Bathroom?"
"You're a mind reader, Alex Cabot."
Author: geonncannon
Fandom: Law & Order SVU
Pairing: Alex/Olivia
Words: 1,141
We meet at the restaurant, as usual, and wait for a table. I can see how exhausted she is and I can tell how she'd rather be anywhere else but here. When the hostess leaves, I put a hand on Olivia's shoulder and whisper, "We can leave if you want. I have some things at my apartment, if you'd rather..."
"No," she interrupts, reaching up to cover my hand with hers. She smiles and says, "It's just been a long day. I'm starving. But I wish I'd gotten off a little earlier so we could have..."
The hostess returns at this inopportune moment, letting us know that a table is ready. We follow her to an isolated table against the far wall, underneath a golden sconce. We give our drink orders and open our menus. As soon as the hostess is gone again, I lean forward. "We could have..."
Olivia looks up at me. "Oh. Nothing."
I smirk and sit back. "You wanted some alone time."
She shrugs and looks at her menu, smiling with guilt.
"Well, there's stuff we could do here..."
Olivia looks up at me, as if I'd just suggested we get on top of the table and make love right there. "Sure, Alex," she says, going back to her menu.
I'm torn between amusement and anger. On the one hand, she's right to mock the idea. She once wanted to take me into the restroom of a museum that was showing some rather explicit lesbian art. I'd refused, red-faced, assuring her that it would somehow get out and my career would be over.
On the other hand... why was it so implausible?
I slipped my foot from my high heel, flexing the toes inside of my flesh-colored pantyhose. I watched her face, sticking my tongue out slightly as I looked innocently down at the menu.
Olivia's first indication of what I'm doing is the appearance of my foot between her knees. She looks up at me, eyebrows arcing, and sits up straighter. "Move your chair forward," I say without looking from my menu. Her chair scrapes across the floor and my foot slips higher between her legs. Her stomach is pressed against the edge of the table and I slide myself forward on the seat of my chair, slouching so the sole of my foot is pressed between her legs.
"What are you trying to accomplish?" she asks, looking back at her menu.
"Excitement," I say. I flex my toes again, pressing the heel against her. I look up to gauge her reaction and see her sucking her bottom lip. She's concentrating extremely hard on the pasta choices, her brow furrowed. I signal the waiter and Olivia's eyes widen in horror.
"Alex," she hisses.
The waiter approaches, bringing our drinks, and I smile up at him. "Hello, I was wondering if you have any specials tonight." I ask as I press my foot against Olivia.
"Tonight's special is the timballo." I move my foot down slightly and press my toes against her. "It's a skillet of spaghetti, marinated onions and peppers, mushrooms, black olives and pepperoni." Bending four of my toes, I use the biggest to draw circles over the material of Olivia's pants. "It comes with your choice of..."
"Mm, yes..." Olivia gasps, eyes snapping open when she realizes she spoke aloud.
"Me, too," I say, closing my menu and handing it to the waiter. "Timballo for both of us."
Olivia is covering her face.
"Would you like that with grilled chicken or Italian sausage?"
"Chicken on both," I say for both of us.
The waiter tells us it will be just a moment and heads away. Olivia glances over her shoulder and leans forward. "Okay. You've made your point."
"Have I?" I ask, slipping my hand under the table.
"Yes. You're adventurous. Now..." she closed her eyes and licks her lips. "Stop it before I get too excited."
"I can't stop it. I'm just getting started."
She notices where my hand is and her eyes widen slightly. "You're not."
I have my skirt pushed up nearly to my hips, my forearm holding my slip out of the way. "This is why you should wear skirts to dinner, Olivia." I'm using two fingers to draw circles on my panties, slowly mimicking the moves my toes are making on Olivia's crotch.
"Do you want me to scream?" she asks. She's gripping the edge of the table now.
"You're not a screamer," I say, completely sure of myself.
"I can be."
"Meg Ryan having an orgasm in the middle of a diner," I say with a smile.
"I'll have what she's having," Olivia says, her voice catching. She looks up at me with an evil glint in her eye. "Are you having what I'm having?"
I close my eyes and tilt my head back. When I look again, Olivia is copying me. We're looking at the ceiling with our eyes closed, my fingers and toes working in concert with each other, working us both towards orgasm. Olivia is closer than I am and I open my eyes, watching her, pressing harder with my foot as her fingers tighten on the edge of the table.
"All righty..."
"Fuck," Olivia groans, startling the waiter as he put her plate in front of her.
He looks between us and says, "I-I'm sorry..."
"Nothing. No. I'm sorry," Olivia says, flushed, pushing her hair out of her face and straightening in her seat. She suddenly squeezes her thighs together, pinning my foot between them.
The waiter places my plate and says, "Will there be anything else?"
"No," Olivia manages to say. The water scurries off and she looks at me, raising an eyebrow. "Well?"
"Well what? Give me back my foot."
"Finish," Olivia says.
I smirk at her and look around, self-conscious all of a sudden. I'm sitting her, my skirt pushed up, touching myself in the middle of a restaurant. I feel like everyone is watching me out of the corner of their eye, like everyone knows what I'm doing.
It's a little thrilling.
I look at Olivia, who is staring at me. I smile back at her and touch myself again. I close my eyes when I feel myself getting close. I lift my hips and grip the edge of the table for balance as I thrust against my hand. "Oh," I breathe when I come, my body going rigid, my foot still trapped between Olivia's powerful thighs.
I sag in my chair again and she frees me. I let my foot drop to the floor, slipping it back into my shoe. "Well," I say, picking up my fork and clearing my throat. We look at our food and then at each other. After a moment, I gingerly put my fork down and said, "Bathroom?"
"You're a mind reader, Alex Cabot."