So... I'm not one for TV shows, but Law and Order: Special Victims Unit has managed to ensnare my very soul. Brilliant show, brilliant cast, and I have a HUGE crush on both Casey Novak and Olivia Benson. This is an alternative path for the beginning of the episode "Blinded."

Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: Special Victims Unit, nor the characters portrayed herein.

Thanks go to GrimGrave for beta-ing this :3

-Eyes Open-

Detective Olivia Benson was pouring a drink, her back to the doorway, in one of the private offices meant for discussing legal matters when the Assistant D.A., Casey Novak, came sweeping in, her pretty features twisted into an annoyed scowl.

"Why'd you rat me out to the D.A.?"

The guilt on the brunette's face was nearly tangible, her lips parting and closing as she tried to put her words in order. "Because you threw the case."

A surge of rage. What right did the other woman have to judge her competence?

"You were right. I wanted revenge," she continued.

Deep breath. Don't let your emotions get the best of you.

"For Elliot." The partners' relationship was as complex as it was deep. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be back to work next week." She lowered her gaze briefly before looking back up at Casey. "How about Picard?"

"The judge ruled him incompetent." A small smile curved full lips. Justice had been served after all. "Louisiana can't touch him now."

A silence passed between them—a moment of uncertainty resulting from a quick retreat into their own thoughts.

Then, Benson said softly, "Do you think he'll ever get better?"

A lump rose in the prosecutor's throat, a memory bleeding out into her mind like an open wound. "I don't know." Her voice was husky with sadness, eyes unusually shiny, lips thinned into a line. She was barely holding it together. "I thought Charlie would get better."

The detective reached out and rested a hand on the blonde's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. Without another word, she offered her glass to the beautiful A.D.A. with her free hand. "Here. Drink this."

"What is it?" She accepted the vessel nonetheless.

"Scotch." Olivia smiled sheepishly when her coworker gave her a look. "After a few nights without sleep, you have to find a way to take the edge off."

"I never took you for a drinker." Casey tilted her head back, draining the golden liquid and relishing the way it burned her throat.

"Mm... I'm not, really." She rose and crossed the room, pushing the door shut to give them privacy. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"..."

Talking about the past lead to more drinks and, by the end of it, Casey had removed those chic Jimmy Choo's and her dainty feet were resting in the detective's lap as she slumped against the arm of the leather sofa they shared.

"Memories hurt."

"Yup."

"It would be so much easier if I could just... Forget."

Olivia heaved a sigh. "Yup."

The strawberry blonde tossed her hair over her shoulder, squinting suspiciously at the other law enforcer. "Are you listening to me?"

Dark eyes were slightly unfocused. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Something on your mind, Detective Benson?"

"'Olivia' is fine."

"Olivia."

There was something about the way teeth and tongue and full, pouty lips worked together to form those four simple syllables that made the brunette's pleasantly swimming mind falter. "I, uh..."

A chuckle. "... clearly can't handle your alcohol." She reached out, neatly apprehending the half-way full glass and plunking it on the side table behind her.

"Told you I'm not a drinker."

"I believed you." Amusement shone in piercing blue eyes, softening what was normally a gaze sharp enough to curb the most horrendous of criminals.

"Hmph."

"So where did you go just now?"

"Nowhere." But her tone and expression said otherwise.

"Lying to a prosecutor? When did you become a defense attorney?"

"Don't be a wiseass."

"Make me."

For a heartbeat they stared each other down, both parties attempting to intimidate the other—strong, fiercely independent personalities doing what they did best.

When icy blue orbs didn't waver, an unspoken challenge burning within them, Olivia did the only thing she could do: she reached out and tickled the unprotected arch of Casey's foot.

The resulting snort of laughter was both unexpected and rewarding (not to mention adorable) and the brunette grinned. She had accepted the fact that Casey Novak was a defense attorney's worst nightmare and therefore had no real weaknesses to speak of.

She had never been more glad to be wrong about something while still in the workplace.

...

Somehow, Casey ended up pinned against the leather sofa, squirming and howling with laughter as the slim, deft fingers of the woman crouching over her scurried along her sides.

"S-stop! Hahaha! Damnit, Benson!"

She wasn't used to feeling so powerless... Her entire career revolved around knowing all and being able to use that knowledge to her advantage. Quite frankly, this situation made her panic a bit—harmless though it was.

Which was why it was to her complete surprise that the other woman actually listened, her assault desisting, and the prosecutor was allowed to catch her breath.

She hadn't laughed like that in a long, long time and she felt... lighter somehow.

Olivia couldn't help but stare at the normally well put together blonde: her cheeks were flushed, the top button of her neatly pressed dress shirt had come undone to reveal a teasing hint of pale cleavage, and her smile was genuine—not the forced, false one she gave to the press when they stormed the front of the courthouse.

If possible, she was more beautiful than usual.

"Olivia?" She sat up, but misjudged the distance between them and ended up knocking heads. "Ow..."

"I stopped. You didn't have to hit me." The brunette was smiling as she lifted a hand to rub her temple. She looked down at the prosecutor who had collapsed onto her back, strawberry blonde tresses a halo around her head, and suddenly found that she couldn't breathe properly. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

Something playful—crafty, sexy, dangerous—flashed across her face. "Am I in trouble, Detective?"

She had always been a fan of that husky, serious voice Casey used to glean information. It made her insides quiver and this time was no exception. Whatever game the A.D.A. was playing, the SVU detective was very much on board.

"That depends..."

There was something in ice blue orbs as they wandered over her features—something absolutely wicked. "On?"

"How good you are at your job, Prosecutor."

A scoff. "I'm one of, if not the best in New York."

Yes, she had seen the rather intimidating woman in action before and that had been an eye-opener to say the least. Novak was like a shark in the water that had just scented blood.

That being said, such a display of power and self-confidence...

Olivia hooked a finger under the younger woman's chin, angling her face so that their eyes met.

... was incredibly sexy.

"Your story seems to check out, but I'll need a tighter alibi than that."

She sat up, slowly this time, and their faces were inches apart. "You haven't even told me what I'm being charged for."

"Obstruction of justice." She wet her lips. "Assault of an officer."

"Obstruction of justice, Detective?"

"Mm... I can't focus on work when you're around."

"And why's that?"

Olivia smirked, her hand slipping down to the front of Casey's shirt. "These cute little tops..." She continued downwards, sliding the flat of her palm over the silken fabric of the woman's pencil skirt and chuckling when the blonde's nostrils flared, thighs parting slightly. "These tight little skirts..."

"That sounds like a personal problem, Detective." Her voice was a shade too breathy.

"Perhaps." She leaned in, that roaming hand hitched the cloth upwards, her fingers touching soft, warm flesh, only to be stopped by an iron grip around her wrist.

The distance between them was mere centimeters now.

"And just what do you think you're doing, Officer?"

"Frisking you for any concealed weapons you may be carrying on your person." The pressure slackened and the prosecutor rested her hand over the other woman's, sliding it the rest of the way upwards so that Olivia was touching the silken fabric of her underwear. They were damp.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"In that case..." That dangerous something had heated to the point that she could feel it like a physical touch, raking down her form. "I'll cooperate completely."

...

It was a darned good thing that the work room outside was in a rare state of vacancy (the two people to usually pull all-nighters were occupied (one with the confusing shambles of his marriage and one with, well, this) because Casey Novak proved to be unafraid of voicing her opinion-both during an investigation and in bed.

"More..." she purred, hips pumping, and Olivia found that that silken tone was even more effective in getting her to do what the prosecutor desired than that sharp, steel tone she utilized in court.

As an added bonus, it sent wet heat pooling between her thighs and she shifted, pressing the length of her body against the Prosecutor's as she murmured, "Ask nicely, Miss Novak."

"Please, Detective?"

"Good girl."

Casey's haughty expression melted into rapture as a third finger was added to silken heat and they wriggled at the tips, setting her pleasure receptors ablaze.

"Mm... So good...!"

Something tickled at the back of Olivia's mind—a memory:

/ "I don't answer to you," Casey scoffed as she pushed past the other woman.

"We'll see about that..." /

Her fingers stilled and the prosecutor made a frustrated sound, icy blue orbs wild, unfocused. "Why are you—"

"You're not getting off until I say so."

She needed this—needed to see that her title didn't make her head of the whole damn precinct.

The strawberry blonde scowled. "Excuse me?"

"You have a right to remain silent." The detective leaned in, sealing their lips together and slipping her tongue between pale pink lips as they parted with a breathy, pleased sound. When she pulled away, Casey pouted and a trickle of wet heat zipped straight to her sex. "Anything you say can..." She raised her thumb to rub against the hypersensitive bundle of nerves at the top if her slit and the younger woman yelped. "... and will be used against you in a court of law."

"I have the right to an attorney." Her eyes rolled back as the brunette tapped against her clit and she squirmed, simultaneously trying to prolong the contact and end it.

"Mhmm... If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you."

"I-Ah...!" Her spine arched sharply as the fingers inside of her stretched, filling her to the brim.

"Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?"

"Please..."

"Answer the question, Miss Novak."

"I *gasp* understand."

"Good." She slid her fingers inside—a shallow, teasing thrust that made the other woman whine. "Will you invoke that right?"

"N-no..." Her hips bucked.

Let the "interrogation" begin.

Casey Novak had been handcuffed only once in her life as a part of a demonstration for one of her law studies classes and she had never in a million years thought it would happen again.

... Especially not in a situation like this.

The young woman shifted, goosebumps rising on pale skin as it came into contact with the hold, hard surface of the folding chair beneath her.

Why Olivia had seen it fit to remove her underwear, she wasn't sure. What she did know was that the detective had better get in here and satisfy the steady, aching throb between her legs before—The door to interrogation room one opened and in strode the aforementioned law enforcer, dressed all in royal blue, her pistol in plain view at her side.

Casey shifted, instinctively straining against the metal cuffs that bound her arms behind her.

She very desperately wanted to touch.

The woman was oddly quiet, her expression unreadable as she crossed the room. It was only when she was out of the prosecutor's line of view that she spoke: "I only have one question for you, Miss Novak, and I want you to answer honestly."

That hard, no-nonsense tone made her inner muscles clench hopefully. At this point, she'd say anything to get the brunette to finish what she had started.

After a deep, steadying breath, assistant district attorney Casey Novak responded, "Okay."

Olivia leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of the bound woman's ear as she husked, "What do you want me to do to you?"

Heat—damp, smoldering, knee-weakening heat—pooled between the blonde's thighs and she moaned eagerly, her head falling back.

Good God... She had never been this wet before.

"Detective Benson... Please... Touch me."

"Where?"

Casey arched her back as best she could, presenting her chest, and her partner didn't hesitate to rip the front of her shirt open, scattering little black buttons on the tiles. The little thrill that resulted from the rather rough interaction was tucked away for later examination.

The young woman squirmed as fingers reached into the black lace cups that covered pale breasts, kneading firmly and rolling rosy nipples that stood so sweetly at attention. Lips brushed against the shell of the A.D.A's ear once again and Olivia muzzled against the side of her throat, a long lingering tongue making the former whimper and tilt her head to the side.

"Lower..."

The detective complied immediately, her breasts pillowing Novak's head as she leaned in to trace her fingertips gently—teasingly—over the prosecutor's ribcage and down to her hip bones before progress was impeded by the black cloth of her pencil skirt.

Casey was going to explode.

"Olivia...!"

All at once, the brunette was pressing her thighs open and kneeling between them, the sharp, predatory light that she usually only got when she was sacrificing her nights to track down a perp burning in dark eyes.

Quite frankly, the look made the younger women's inner muscles clench eagerly.

Olivia paused for a brief moment and, in that instant, Casey was afraid that she would be left there in the interrogation room, sitting in a pool of her own excitement for an officer from the morning shift to find. She knew it was a ridiculous worry, but she hadn't become the best A.D.A in the county by blindly trusting in others—especially those who could back her into a corner.

Frustrated, bound, and halfway naked in the NYPD precinct was the prime example of a "corner."

The draft created by the hitching up of her skirt shook the blonde from her rumination and Casey whimpered as a warm, wet tongue ran the length of her slit, collecting the uniquely flavoured evidence of her arousal. That eager sound became a strangled scream as four fingers were thrust unceremoniously into wet heat, plumbing the depths of her sex and stretching velvet walls as they pounded the far wall.

It—the teasing, the mind games, the mind-blowing ecstasy—all proved to be too much for the young woman and her vision dimmed at the edges as her muscles tensed, pleasure razing her senses in a maelstrom of bliss and electric heat.

When she finally came down from her high, the prosecutor found herself in Olivia's lap, her head nestled in the crook of the brunette's neck. A gentle, apologetic kiss was pressed to her wrist and she chuckled.

"Wow..."

"Sorry. I got a little carried away." Casey looked up at her and bit her lip: a red hue coloured the gentle-hearted women's cheeks. "I'm not usually... Like that."

"I loved it."

Her cheeks darkened further, though her gaze heated substantially and she rested her hand on a pale thigh. "Yeah?"

"Mm..." The contact and the promise it carried made her shiver. She shifted positions so that she was straddling the other women's lap. "Are you done with me already, Detective? I think I may have more information that will interest you..."

Olivia made a thoughtful sound as she walked her fingers along the blonde's thigh, appreciating the muscle that flexed subtly under porcelain skin. "You want to make a deal?"

In way of response, Casey leaned in a pressed her lips to the brunette's, nipping at a plump bottom lip until the detective's lips parted, her own tongue sneaking out to engage in a sensual tango that left them both breathless. The prosecutor moaned as strong hands kneaded the globes of her bottom, spreading the cheeks wide and sending a thrill down her spine.

If the woman kept man-handling her like this, the blonde was going to—

A loud, throaty cry was ripped from the A.D.A.'s throat as Olivia pressed her fingers up into velvet heat and she rode the other women's hand, gripping her shoulders for support. She bit her lip to mute the lewd mewls of pleasure that escaped her with each powerful thrust, her hips working in a frenzied pace to prolong the pleasure that zipped from neuron to neuron.

"Olivia!" She leaned in and buried her face in the tanned skin of the detective's throat, sinking her nails into Benson's shoulders and crying out, her inner muscles clamping down in a vice grip as orgasm swept over her in a tidal wave of ecstasy.

"I'm amazed we're alive."

It had been a rather harrowing drive over, what with the way Olivia was tipsy.

It didn't help that Casey couldn't seem to keep her hands to herself... And that she had a thing for breasts.

The detective moaned what might have been an agreement and writhed, her fingers clutching futilely at the bedspread beneath her. They had ended up at her place and it seemed the prosecutor intended to make her collapse from exhaustion before the night was over.

A hand swatted the firm curve of her rear and she bucked, lifting it into the air and offering herself up to the dominant woman.

Damn if the blonde wasn't just the best at finding her every sensitive spot and making her howl ecstatically. The neighbors were going to hate her.

"I don't think I'll ever get tired of fucking you," Casey mused, her fingers continuing their heavenly pace.

"Ah...!"

Oh, God, she was going insane. Every thrust made the tight coil of white hot pleasure wind even tighter, threatening to snap with an intensity that was almost frightening. She felt hot air gust over the curve of her rear before a hot, wet tongue rimmed the puckered opening of her anus, and that was enough to send her screaming over the edge.

…

A hand was stroking her hair.

Olivia purred and pressed her body up against her lover's, luxuriating in the silken slide of skin against skin. It had been far too long.

"Hey, sleepy head."

A goofy grin spread across her face and she opened dark eyes to be greeted by the glorious sight of the prosecutor's nude body stretched out on her bed.

"Hey…" Full lips pressed against her temple and the grin got bigger. "What time is it?"

"Late. Or early, depending on how you look at it." She yawned daintily. "I should head home… Trial in the morning."

Ba-bump.

Without thinking, the brunette latched onto the younger woman. "Don't go…"

She didn't want to be alone again.

Slim fingers returned to her hair, stroking soothingly. "Okay," Casey said softly, her lips quirking upwards at the edges. "I'll stay."

"Thank you…" They were quiet for a moment, just breathing and dozing in the heat of each other's bodies. Then, "I, uh…"

"Mm?"

"Earlier, when you asked me what I was thinking about…" She cleared her throat embarrassedly. "… Being alone. I know I'm married to my work, but that doesn't mean I don't want something more."

Far from it.

"What do you call this?" the blonde asked playfully.

Right… What was this? She knew from experience that nights of whirlwind passion usually resulted in an even more agonizing ache beneath her breast—an ache brought on by the victims she worked with and the loneliness that came with making your job your number one priority.

"It just feels as though I'll work until it kills me. I have no family, no friends—no one to miss me when I'm gone."

She was the end of the Benson family line and that was a terrifying thought.

"You can't be serious."

When the detective didn't respond, the prosecutor sat up to look at the woman slouched against her side: her eyes were shut tight and twin trails of moisture had leaked from them.

"Liv…" A gentle hand cupped her cheek, guiding her face so that their eyes met. "Open your eyes. You've got a partner who would die for you, a boss that cares about your well-being, coworkers that support whatever crazy plans you come up with and… Me. I'll be at your side every step of the way."

The A.D.A. was right… How could she have been so blind? People cared about her. Wonderful, loyal people who put their lives on the line every day just like she did; cared about their jobs like she did; made New York City a safer place to live like she did.

Casey intertwined her fingers with Olivia's and the older woman nodded, her heart in her throat as their lips met.

Perhaps she wouldn't be so lonely after all.

-Fin-