FF: Hostage
Title: Hostage
Fandom: CSI/SVU crossover
Pairing: Sofia/Olivia
Rating: I’d say, mature
Disclaimer: The story is mine, characters are not.
In short: She felt herself being pulled in closer, into the fire.
AN: This is a direct consequence of CSI’s omnipresence and marathon watching of SVU’s early seasons reruns on cable TV. After my Muse realized I haven’t written a single piece of fanfiction in over a month, she suggested this outrageously delicious idea of writing two of my favorite fictional detectives together. Here, my mouth is watering up just by thinking about it.
You could feel yourself shattering in a million tiny pieces when she pinned you to the wall with her steel gaze. The wall felt cold and hard against your back and it made the breath in your lungs stop short. You don't scare easily. Tougher and far scarier people tried to intimidate you and they failed. You’ve been on the other end of intense gazes before and you returned them just as ferociously. You were taunted, manipulated, threatened and mocked by the eyes of the people you came in contact every day. But her eyes, they were the first and only ones who held you hostage.
Dark as the night itself. Smooth like the finest dark chocolate melted. Blazing like Rome burning and disappearing in a thousand flames. Two endless pools, drawing you in and then holding you under until you were breathless and spent. All you could do was to surrender.
She hardly said a word to you and when she did, the breath you were holding escaped your lips in one long, shaky gasp. It felt like every single cell in your body sensed the vibration of her voice and decided to respond to its sound. Low and sultry. Not necessarily commanding, but it made you want to submit instantly. To forget who you are and everything you ever settled on as your boundaries. If she could break you like this with her eyes and just a tiny five-letter word that is your name, you couldn’t even begin to imagine what her touch would do to you.
And her touch didn’t burn; it scorched your skin, searing right through the flesh, the screaming cells, the rushing blood and so incredibly aware nerves, making your body feel boneless, an useless pile of human flesh on the floor.
Her fingers brushed against the base of your neck, moving your hair out of the way, allowing her breath to warm up the newly uncovered skin. She leaned in and your eyes closed shut on contact. She traced her tongue slowly, from the collarbone to the tip of your chin, across the conveniently exposed throat so she could feel the wild pounding of your pulse on her way up. Her arms found their place on each side of your frame, for balance or to make sure you don’t escape; it didn’t matter. You heard the soft squeak of leather when she moved closer, pushing herself against you, silently allowing the access to her body for your starving hands.
Usually you would go straight for the jacket, pushing it off of her shoulders and then clawing at her shirt, sending the buttons flying, just so you could finally feel the touch of that olive skin. Instead, your fingers buried themselves in that russet mess of her hair, tugging on it until she got the hint and moved in for a kiss. You wanted her to devour you, to reassign all that passion she had in her eyes into her lips and tongue and break you again.
The gentle stroke of warm hands first appeared against the side of your ribs snaking over your hips, circling, then stopping at the small of your back. You felt yourself being pulled in closer, into the fire.
She had her way of keeping the control; holding herself vaguely out of reach and you only slightly unsatisfied, was her cruelest and most efficient of ways. You wanted to cry how good she felt against you. When all that strength and power she possessed in her posture melted into zeal of her kisses you wanted to die, right then and there, in her arms.
You parted your lips and felt a new pair closing over them, hot and soft and wet against your own. The jolt of electricity spread all throughout your body, flooding over and crashing against every cell inside you. Every thought in your head became white noise, unable to process anything besides the feeling of another body pressed against you, just as limber, soft and feminine as yours. It fit perfectly.
Your fingers untangled from her hair, and then arms moved down and wrapped around her steady shoulders, the feel of the leather cool and smooth under your fingers. You inhaled and her scent filled your senses.
A loud thud brought your head out of the floating sensation. When her hands tugged on your shirt to untuck it from your slacks, you realized she freed you from your holster belt and in the next second the hope she wouldn’t take hers off appeared in your mind. This was a power game and for the first time you willingly abandoned your constant need to be in control. You wanted her to be the one to deprive you of all influence and will, to hold you captive through your need and craving of her presence.
She slowly pealed off your clothes, never detaching her lips from yours. Farthest you got in getting her naked was popping a few buttons on her shirt before you realized how exciting it was having her fully clothed against your bare skin. Her fingers blindly searched for the new paths on your skin to follow and every so often she would find a spot that made you gasp against her mouth and grab her shoulders in a firmer grasp as you started to lose ground under your feet.
The first time you felt her melt against you, dropping some of that force she so proudly displayed, was when both of you gasped at the feel of her hand sliding under the waistband of your slacks and realizing just how incredibly aroused she has made you. She moved away from you just far enough so she could see your face, demanding that you return her gaze and lock your eyes with hers when all you wanted to do was to close them and lose yourself in the feeling of her amazingly thrilling touch.
“Detective?”
You blinked to focus in, and when you did, she was looking at you intently, the dark chocolate orbs scanning your features with a hint of confusion evident in them. You realized she was waiting on your reply to whatever it was she asked you before you lost yourself in a daydream.
“I’m sorry,” you smiled, “You were saying?”
Her lips curved in a smirk, and her eyes squinted slightly as if she guessed where your mind had just been.
The end.