Welcome to SVU Snippets, a place where little fragments of story can exist when I'm not up to writing a fully-fledged one. It may not be everyone's cup of tea but on a positive note they're short enough to read while you wait for the kettle to boil.

Stormy Mondays

The kiss was hard and punctuated.

His large hands grasped the ridge of her waist as he held her up against the precinct lockers.

She breathed through her nose as his lips clung to hers but her chest was pounding, her mind swarming. He could feel her hesitation ticking over, her mind chattering with all the reasons why they shouldn't.

She opened her mouth in rebuttal but his lips clamped over her lower lip until he was moaning against her mouth. The lockers rattled beneath their weight, the thin cotton t-shirt he was sporting was a pitiful barrier from the planes of his chest.

'I'm done fighting this,' he had rasped just before his mouth had crashed across hers and her heart had thrummed in response. This was a dream, it had to be. There was no way she was feeling the hard planes of Elliot's chest against hers post a heated bullpen blow up.

It had been their third one this week, though none had ended like this.

She knew the case had gotten to him, he was getting rusty, they were getting rusty. He'd been off his game for weeks and he had been taking it out on their partnership. They were supposed to come out here to 'cool off' under Cragen's orders but he'd taken one look at her, cheeks flushed from their brawl, a searing look in her eyes.

She'd expected anger when they found themselves alone, but he shocked her tenfold when he grasped her intently and backed her up against the lockers.

He bites down gently on her lower lip, his firm hand trailing up the side of her torso, skimming the side of her breast under her jacket and she wants to melt.

They shouldn't be doing this, not when they know full well there is an entire precinct outside of the locker room doors with a risk at getting caught at any moment.

He presses her harder against metal, his hand closing fully over her breast and she hums against his mouth. It feels instinctive, natural, like they had done this many times before - stolen precinct kisses, early morning escapades, late evening romps. Their bodies, hands, lips knowing intuitively where to go. She melds with him, against him, into him, her hands encircling the back of his neck as his tongue slides between her lips, swiping across the tip of hers.

"This your idea of making nice Elliot," she murmers against slick sounds of his kisses. Her words are light but there is confusion, unresolved anger and a bout of uncertainty in her tone. This is new territory for them. His ring had been off since September, but he'd spent the better part of those eight months, avoiding eye contact with her and doing his best to keep the peace.

Today it seemed, their denial was up.

He pulls back, staring at her intently, not answering her question, just letting his hand slide beneath the lip of her shirt until he is teasing the back of her bra. She moans quietly in response. She can feel it in the depths of her chest, she needs this explosive tension-fuelled moment just as much as he does.

She's lightheaded, her lower half throbbing with want and when he moves in his mouth finds the column of her throat, pressing into her most sensitive places. Her eyes draw to a close but she knows there is only one way this can go.

"We've gotta stop," she whispers reluctantly but her words are contradictory because she's still pressing her denim glad hip into his crotch while he struggles with the clasp of her bra. She knows they don't have long, their phones will ring, they'll be called back by their captain, the damn locker room door will open. They're on borrowed time.

They always have been.

Not here, she thinks.

But she'd said it out loud. She feels him react, her words promising another time, another place, a continuation - not the breaks.

She feels him soften with that knowledge, easing up on her neck, her body, giving them both space to breathe, to find their bearings. He pulls himself off completely, his hand slipping out from her shirt until it's just his palms resting against metal as his flushed, desire-filled eyes latch onto hers.

Not here, her eyes twinkle back at him.

But soon.

End.