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Rafael knew Rollins was undercover at an escort agency that specialized in classy women for high-powered men; SVU was targeting a serial rapist who used the service. He just hadn’t expected to see her perched on a barstool in his favorite bar, leaning towards some asshole in designer slacks and what looked like a $400 t-shirt. Her eyelashes fluttered and he heard her high-pitched giggle as he reached the bar.
“Scotch, neat. The good stuff,” he told the bartender, loud enough to get Amanda’s attention. He watched her from the corner of his eye. He saw her freeze for just a moment when she heard his voice, but no one else would have seen her small start if they hadn’t been watching for it. It took her almost a minute to turn her head from her prospective “client” (soon to be “arrested john”), but finally she brushed her hair over her shoulder and glanced over at him, presumably to make sure she’d heard right. The bartender put his drink down in front of him, and he tossed back half of it in one gulp. She straightened up on her stool as he pulled out his wallet.
“I gotta go freshen up, sugar, you just wait right here for me, y’hear?” She drawled at the mark, putting her hand on the man’s shoulder and smiling sweet as honey. Rafael tossed back the rest of his drink and left money on the bar. He counted twenty beats in his head, and then followed her to the bathrooms. She was waiting outside the ladies, eyes narrowed.
“Counselor, what the hell-”
“Are you wearing a wire?” He asked, voice expressionless. She nodded, biting her lip and shifting her gaze away from him. “Who’s on the other end? Olivia?” His phone started buzzing in his pocket and he reached for it.
“Hey,” Amanda said, her voice soft. “I didn’t know you come here.”
“Well, now you do,” he said, answering the phone. “Lieutenant? Yeah, no, I’m leaving. Right now. Goddammit, Liv, this place has good scotch. Couldn’t you run your operation out of someplace, I don’t know, someplace else?” But he throws Rollins a quick, dark look before he turns to go. She waited a minute, shaking her head after him, and then went back to the man she was about to arrest.
It happened again two nights later. A different bar, and this time she made him. She put a hand on his shoulder from behind, sliding onto the stool next to her. A sarcastic comment is at the end of his tongue, but he sees her big smile before he can get it out, and he takes a bigger swallow of scotch than he intended.
“Buy a girl a drink?” She asks, leaning close.
“Are you-” But she leans closer so she can whisper in his ear.
“What the fuck,” she hisses, “are you actively trying to blow my cover?” He turns his head, a dark coil in the pit of his stomach.
“It’s not my fault this escort service is run out of all my favorite places,” he retorts.
“Isn’t it?” She flashes at him, her breath warm on his ear. Her hand trails from his shoulder across his back, slow and exaggerated. For show. He swallows more scotch.
“What’re you having?” He asks in a more normal tone, and she gives a vapid smile, not her usual almost sarcastic, sort of sweet smile.
“I think... a bellini,” she says, her drawl heavy. “Didja know it’s made from peaches, an’ ‘m from Georgia?” Her eyes widen as she says the name of the state, and he smirks.
“I’d’ve never guessed as much,” he deadpans. The phone in his pocket starts buzzing, and he gets it out, glancing at the display. “Sorry, Georgia, raincheck on that drink. My wife is calling.” He takes the call, turning away from Amanda. “”Liv? Yes, I’m leaving.”
The third bar in a week. Fuck.
“Amanda-” She turns to him, hair falling over her shoulder and a teasing, provocative smile on her lips.
“Sorry, sugar. M’name’s Crystal.”
“Crystal.” He repeats it, incredulous. Crystal. “What’s your last name, Chandelier?” He’s jeering at her, but she gives one of her bright, genuine smiles. She’s laughing. His face flushes hot.
“You gonna buy me a drink this time?”
“Are you wearing a wire?” He leans close, his hand at her waist; if anyone is watching, it’ll look like he’s interested in her services. He waits for his phone to ring, but this time it doesn’t.
“No.” she answers, turning to him. Her breath is hot on his cheek. “We broke the case a couple hours ago. Liv an’ the rest of the squad is in processing. She told me to take the rest of the night off. M’havin a celebratory drink.”
He pulls away a little, eyeing her. “Are you drunk?”
“Not yet. Nobody around t’buy me a drink.” The bar is busy, low music and the buzz of dozens of conversations suddenly loud in his ears. His hand is still at her waist.
“Don’t you need to freshen up, sugar?” He says. She gives him one of her looks, slow and hot, and then hops off her barstool with a small smile. She goes towards the bathrooms and he counts to fifteen this time before he follows her.
“Rafi-” She’s standing outside the bathroom. Waiting for him. She moves towards him, hands already up and reaching for him.
“You know I hate it when you tease me,” he growls, backing her to the wall. Her hands are on the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer.
“S’why I do it,” she murmurs. He moves close enough to kiss her but hold out, stopping a mere hair’s breadth from her. Her fists tighten on him but he stays put.
“So you like to tease, querida?” He murmurs. One leg hooks around his and she smiles. She’s still wearing her ridiculous undercover clothes: a skirt that’s too short and too tight, heels that make her taller than him, and a black, frilly shirt. His hands slides up her thigh. “I’ll show you teasing.”
“Oh,” she breathes when his fingers graze her underwear. “Oh.” His hand moves against her, and she bites her lip.
“You knew I liked those bars. I’ve told you i have drinks there sometimes hoping you’d join me.” he breathes against her mouth. She moves to kiss him but he backs away, hand still moving against her.
“Kiss me, come on, just-”
“Admit you knew. Admit you chose those bars because you hoped you’d see me.” He’s whispering; they’re in a dark corner, but anyone could come by at any time. He doesn’t care. He quickens his hand, touching her in exactly the way she likes, and she lets out a small gasp. “Come on, detective, tell me the truth. It won’t be held against you.”
“Jesus fuck, are you cross examining me?” She whispers. He doesn’t answer. “Rafael-”
“Admit it.” he turns his wrist slightly, thumb rubbing across her clit. She clutches at his shoulder, breathing heavily against him.
“Yes, okay? Yes, I chose those bars because-” He slips a finger inside her and she closes her eyes.
“Doesn’t telling the truth feel good?” He asks. She hits his shoulder with one fist, tightening around him.
“Fuck you,” she pants. He chuckles.
“That’s the plan. Eventually.” But his hand stops moving against her, and she opens her eyes. She pulls at the knot of his tie, trying to bring him closer. He smirks at her, his free hand catching her wrist. “Don’t. I’m going to show you what you get when you tease me like this.”
“What, this isn’t enough?” she asks, glancing down at his hand up her skirt. He shakes his head, eyes dark on her.
“I don’t like seeing you with other men.” he whispers, holding her gaze. Her lips part and she moves to speak, but no words come out. When he looks at her like that, she goes weak inside, stomach fluttering. “Putting your hands on other men, flirting with them. I can’t have it.”
“It’s my job,” she murmurs, arching her back and trying to get him to move his hand again. “I was undercover, I had to-”
“I know. But i don’t like it, Amanda.” He finally kisses her, desperate and hot. She rolls her head back against the wall, letting him have his way.
“M’sorry,” she purrs, leg sliding up to his hip. His breath catches, and she enjoys the feeling of his suit against her skin.
“Are you?” He asks, tone suddenly sharp and speculative. “I wonder.” He moves away from her and she has to drop her leg to keep her balance. She looks at him, frowning slightly, but before she can ask what he’s doing, he drops to his knees in front of her. He pushes her skirt up, and now her breath catches in her throat, eyes widening in the dark.
“Rafael, no. Not here, God, are you crazy?” But her voice is high, breathy, and he can feel her thighs actually quivering under his palms.
“No? You don’t want me to? Say it, then.” He says, looking up at her. She sighs.
“We’ll get caught. All I need is t’get arrested for public indecency with SVU’s favorite A.D.A.” his fingers find the elastic of her underwear and pull them down. He’s still watching her and she sucks in a breath.
“Then say no. I’ll stop if you say no,” he answers, but he knows she’s not going to. Her fingers rake through his hair and he grins at her. She chuckles.
“I hate you sometimes,” she says. He chuckles right back at her, sliding her underwear down her legs and making her step out of them. He slipped them into his pocket and she let out a strangled sound.“Oh my god, Rafi.”
“Shh, querida, don’t make a sound,” he admonishes. His hands slip up her thighs again, and her fingers tighten in his hair. “We don’t want to draw attention, do we?” She hates it, fucking loves it, when he talks to her like that. There’s something deeply wrong with her that that scolding-teasing tone of his makes her hot, but that’s not the issue right now, because he moves towards her and she sucks in a breath when she feels his tongue on her. She can feel him smiling against her, and she drops her hands from him, clenching them at her side. She takes two quick breaths, shutting her eyes again.
He moves his mouth against her, trying to find the right angle. Her scent drives him crazy, fills up the world, and he groans against her. She bucks against him, but he pins her hips with his hands, thumb stroking her skin. She gets the message- don’t talk, don’t move- and tries to hold still, pressing her hand to her mouth to smother whatever noise she wants to make. She’s breathing fast, almost panting, and her other hand rakes through his hair again. He quickens his pace; he loves how she tastes, how she can’t help moving to meet him even though he’s trying to hold her still, loves the way she still makes small sounds against her hand. He glances up, sees her biting the edge of her hand in desperation, and the sight of her own teeth marking her hand sends a jolt of lust through him. His hands slide down over her hips, over her thighs, restless because now he wants to do more than tease her like this. He wants to take her apart with hands and mouth and body, but he can’t here and now and he is absolutely going to to go mad from her.
He didn’t notice that he was quickening his mouth against her with his own desperation, but he hears her breath hitch, feels her hips stutter against him the moment he lets her move, and she’s riding him against this wall with complete abandon, and she is the most magnificent, beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“Come for me, Amanda,” he orders- begs- her. “So we can get out of here.” She doesn’t open her eyes, but her hands are in his hair again, pulling him where she wants him. She’s making the least noise she can manage, still swallowing her moans and trying to the keep the sounds that escape low, only for him, and if she doesn’t come he’s going to get up and fuck her right here until she does.
“Oh,” she says finally, and he knows that tone. Her fingers are still tight in his hair, tugging enough to hurt and feel good at the same time, and she moves her hips just right, setting the pace she wants. He tries to keep up. He mouths at her, tongue and lips hot and desperate, and she’s not even trying to control herself anymore, moaning loudly, head going back against the wall again. “Rafi-”
He doesn’t stop to encourage her, just lets her go, grunting against her warmth. She makes a sound in her throat, hands clenching painfully in his hair, and then she’s gasping his name and he feels her come, a flood of warmth on his mouth and chin. She’s panting, knees shaky, as he moves to stand up. He takes an immaculate white handkerchief- linen, of course, and monogramed- and wipes his mouth. He leans against her, smoothing her skirt back down, hands gentle as he soothes her back to being presentable.
“Holy shit,” she says. She can smell herself on him and it makes her weak, hot desire flashing through her veins. He kisses her lips and she sighs, arm going around his neck to hold him close as she forces herself to calmness. Her other hand smoothes his hair back, and she’s smiling.
“Take me home now,” she says. “Because I want more’n that.” He smirks, already pulling himself back together.
“No. Not yet. I owe you a drink first. A bellini, I believe?” She laughs, breathless and already edging towards lust again. “Come on. Go freshen up and i’ll order our drinks. And then we can go, if you want.” She nods, conceding. She takes a breath, and they hear someone approaching. Her face flushes, but he can’t see it in the gloom of the hallway.
“Rafi,” she whispers. “My underwear?” He gives one of those maddening grins.
“What underwear, Detective?” but he slips his hand into his pocket, fingering the delicate fabric of her panties, but doesn’t give them to her. A man glances at them, chuckles knowingly at how close they are to each other, and goes into the bathroom. Rafael moves away from her.
“Rafael-”
“I told you not to tease me, querida.” She sucks in a breath, laughing and angry and wanting.
“Fuck you, Rafi."
“After your bellini. If you’re good.”
End