Author: VTerrice

The First Date

Chapter One

Detective John Munch stood outside Alex Cabot's apartment, still in his work clothes, holding flowers and wine. He had called the ADA just that morning from the precinct to see if they could arrange a date. He had left a message at her office, then she left one at his.

He smiled remembering his captain's confused look as he gave John a slip of paper, the words Tonight at nine written in Cregan's sloppy haphazard script. The captain of the SVU would have never guessed what had happened between his detective and the counselor three nights ago in the interrogation room.

John cleared his throat, and knocked on the door. He was determined not only to get to know Alex, but to make their next sexual encounter... well, not so brief.

And anywhere but on a cold and merciless steel table.

Alex opened her door and leaned against the frame, incredibly gorgeous in black slacks and a short-sleeved, white cotton shirt. His breath quickened imperceptibly and he was surprised to find that she was almost four inches shorter than him in her bare feet. Of course, she had always worn heels around him, and the last time they were together she hadn't actually gotten around to taking them off.

"You're early."

He nodded and held up the bottle.

"Hmmm... That's better than mine." She took it. "I should really leave you out here until I finish cooking, though."

"How long is that?"

She bit her lower lip. "Ten minutes."

"I'm only five minutes early."

"Six."

He held up the flowers. "Sorry."

She opened the door for him and stepped aside.

John walked in noting that the majority of the apartment was visible, minus the bathroom and the bedroom. He was surprised at how small it was, but even more at the sparseness, noting the one area that looked actually livable was the office suite. That was Cabot. Work was her life.

He could empathize.

"Lived here long?"

She nodded. "About four years."

"Ahhh. I could tell, what from all the furniture, and memorabilia and what not."

She laughed lightly at his sarcasm. "I'm not much of a packrat."

He decided not to remark on the understatement and followed her to the kitchenette, watching as she put the wine on the island and bent to grab a vase from one of it's cupboards below.

She took flowers from him and smiled. "They're beautiful, John."

"Not compared to what I'm looking at."

She moved the flowers to the hand with the vase, and used her free hand to pull gently on his tie, bringing him down the four inches to her lips. As they kissed he couldn't help but be reminded of the passion they had shared, albeit abrupt. He could still feel the heat between them, and was disappointed when they pulled away.

He saw the same disappointment on Alex's face, and strengthened his resolve to get to know her personally, before they got really intimate again.

"Take your hat and coat off." She said as she walked to the sink and turned on the faucet. "You can put them in the corner there. Your shoes, too."

John turned to find a hat stand next to her desk. "I don't even have a hat stand." He took off his jacket, hat, and his shoes, feeling ridiculously self-conscious about his feet.

"What are you cooking? Smells terrific."

"Pasta. Wanna help?"

He walked over to the kitchenette, leaning on the counter next to the stove, and looked up at her. "I'm no good at cooking. The whole adding and mixing, changing foods into something that tastes good." He shook his head.

"How about stirring?"

"I don't know. I think I can handle it. Under your supervision, of course."

She handed him the slotted spoon, smiling. "Be good and stir this, detective?"

"Sure." He stirred the pasta on and off as she sliced the tomatoes, added sauce, garlic and a variety of spices.

"Hope, I'm not allergic to any of that."

"Me, too. How was your day?" She immediately looked up at him. "Dumb question, huh?"

He gave her a small smile. "You know the drill. Same as always. No day's a great one when you're working sex crimes."

She nodded and finished the sauce. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's just that I'm trying to take my mind off things right now."

She took the spoon from him, grazing his hand, and turned off the stove. He used his fingers to move a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Work?"

She nodded, then picked the pot up, pouring the contents into the colander and straining the pasta. "I lost a case today. Big one. State vs. Mitchell."

He nodded, remembering the case. "Stalker raped three woman leaving a crucifix behind with each?"

"Yeah. That's why I was at the precinct... Tuesday."

He smiled at her shyness to even mention that day.

"Only the judge ruled out the sightings, and Mitchell's rambling to Benson and Stabler, then slammed me for having insufficient evidence."

"But he'd been Mirandized."

"Yeah, but according to the defense his quote 'drunken ramblings' were insufficient proof of his guilt. And the judge bought it. All because the bastard was a clergyman. If I had been even just one step behind, I would have won the damn case. But I just wasn't good enough."

John frowned at the tone in her voice. He was upset that the New York legal system had just let another rapist go, a man that he and his team spent up to four and a half months catching. Hell, this was one of his favorite subjects to rant on and on about, but Alex was close to tears. And he'd never seen her cry. She was usually so strong, so brave, so composed. He'd seen her take defeat with defiant acceptance, so he never would have guessed she took things so personally.

She turned from him, moving the pasta as her cover, but he saw through it. Stepping up to her, he took the pasta and set it on the island, taking her into his arms.

"Hey," he whispered rubbing her back. "It's not your fault."

She whimpered quietly, startling him, then pushed him away firmly. "Oh, John. I wish I could tell myself that. I really do. It's just-"

"A stupid judge's idiotic mistake. Not a comment on your talent as a prosecutor." He cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Why else would you be an assistant district attorney?"

Alex's face crumpled and he wrapped his arms around her. She tried weakly to escape his embrace, but he would not let her move. "Go ahead. Let this out, Alex."

"Sometimes I just..."

"Just what?" he probed softly.

"Wish I was something else." she said into his neck. "Or someone else. I have these cases that look like real winners, easy, in the bag, you know? Then I get too cocky, and slam, right in the face, I loose something. But it's not like I'm playing poker here. Once you guys catch the criminals, I have to make sure they stay that way. That's my job, and when I fail, it's not just a loss. It's another potential rape, murder, or molestation of a child."

"Sometimes, there's nothing you can do." he whispered into her hair. "Sometimes they just get away. There's nothing you can do."

She was quiet for a moment. "And the other times?"

"Everyone makes mistakes, Alex. Sometimes there's something that you just can't see. I've been there. You have to live with them and move on. You do better and better in the future chances that are given to you."

"But it hurts. It hurts so bad to know that-"

"That you could be responsible for a woman's rape, or another person's death."

"Yes." she said simply.

"You had the courage to take the job in the first place. And you're one of the best in the field. That's why you are what you are. Never doubt that."

She sobbed heavily, then shook her head against his neck. "Oh, I don't want you to see me like this. I'm ruining our date."

He laughed. It was a genuine laugh and it felt wonderful. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had anyone in my arms? With the exception of the other night at the station. I'll bet this is doing me more good than you, Cabot. And this way I don't have to scheme a way to get you here."

He felt her laughing against his body, and relished in it. He held her for a few minutes, moving his hand soothingly up and down her back.

She finally raised her eyes to meet his, and gave him and small smile. "Thank you, detective."

"Anytime."

Raising up on her toes to meet his height, she kissed him. It held more meaning and emotion than their previous kisses could try to compare with, and he tightened his grip on Alex. He explored her mouth with his tongue, deepening the kiss and savoring her taste.

His stomach was unknotting, ridding itself of the tension that the day had built, and replacing it with a new, more desirable tension. A tension he had been desperately longing for since their last goodbye.

She brought her hands slowly up his chest. He could feel her body pressing against his, lightly but eagerly, and could sense his own body responding to hers.

He moved slowly backwards until he could lean up against the wall. Then pulling her into him, he let one hand travel up to entangle itself in her hair while he slowly led the other down her back to cup her bottom.

Alex made a sound deep in her throat. She pulled her lips from his and kissed his jaw, then his throat, moving her hands down his chest. He knew where those hands were headed, and closed his eyes.

The thought of getting to know her better suddenly popped up, urgent in the back of his mind. He tried to beat the thought down hard, tried to concentrate on her ever lowering hands, but it wouldn't die.

He reluctantly pulled away, stopping her hands at his lower abdomen. If he didn't now, he'd never get his mind off of what she could do to him. Was doing to him.

Truthfully, that that didn't sound so bad.

She looked up with questioning eyes. "What?"

He needed to take a small break, needed control over himself.

He smiled, giving her a small kiss her on the lips. "Let's eat."

"Hungry?"

"Starved."

"Wow."

He smiled and nodded, noting the usual look he got from everyone that heard a detailed explanation of his many failed marriages. He spoke in the detached way a person would after so many years saying the same things.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "I'm not."

"I meant that I asked. It doesn't look to be something you like to talk about."

"I bitch about it plenty at work, but otherwise not really. You wanted to know, though." He leaned forward on the table. "Just like I wanted to know about your wild and crazy college years."

She smirked at him and stood grabbing the empty plates. "Your sarcasm reigns supreme. I don't believe I've got a wild bone in me."

He thought of the other night and stood, helping her clean the table and take the dishes to the sink. "Oh, you've got one or two in there, counselor."

Alex must have caught the implication because she put her plates on the counter and turned to look at him. "I wanted to explain something about that night, John."

He shook his head at her and placed his dishes with hers. "I don't want to know."

"No, please, I-"

He put two fingers to her lips and walked up to her, closing the distance between the two. He kissed her briefly then asked where the dishwasher was.

"I don't have one."

"You mean you actually have to work to clean these? Oh, no, no, no. Let's just take them over to my place."

She smiled and turned, started running water, then added soap. "Wash, or dry?"

He sighed melodramatically. "Dry, I guess."

She threw the dishtowel at him then grabbed a rubber band from the counter top, pulling her hair into a ponytail. He'd never seen her with her hair up and, though he liked it better down, it revealed her delicious neck.

He cleared his throat and shook his head.

They talked fleetingly about his college years, but while Alex was interested in hearing about his reckless and unruly years, it bored him. He usually loved to talk about himself, but with Alex, he felt different. He didn't know how exactly, but he did.

More to the point, talking to her about his younger years, when he was closer to her age, made him feel old. And the age difference between the two was a pretty lengthy one. The issue hadn't even entered his mind, but it nagged now. He pushed it out of his mind, sure to brood over it later.

While they finished the dishes together in compatible silence, he watched her absently thinking over the things he had learned about her family and her past. Things that had molded her into this strong heroine, this brave believer in order.

And this incredibly sexy woman in front of him.

He thought about their tangle in the kitchen earlier and felt his stomach perform a not entirely unpleasant vertiginous flip. He pondered whether he felt that he had gotten to know her well enough and whether she felt the same. He could say nothing for her, but he felt almost impossibly more attracted the woman knowing a little bit about her, and that was what he had been shooting for.

He watched Alex, who was oblivious to his attentions, and slowly took her in, inch for inch. She was a glorious sight, both strong and fragile, simple and exotic. There was nothing hidden about her; if he asked he felt she'd tell. And yet there was a mystery about her. Something foreign to him.

His body was telling him to go to her, and his mind had pretty much shut down, full in the 'collecting information' area. John could wait no longer. He just hoped this was the right time for her as well.

Judging from before dinner, he didn't think the timing would be a problem.

He put the plate and dishrag aside, and walked behind her, his front to her backside. As he pulled the rubber band out of her hair, she stopped washing the pot.

Slowly, his hands traveled down her bare arms, loving the feel of her soft skin in his rough palms. He took her scent in, nuzzling behind her ear, a spot he knew she was tender in. Gently, he pushed up with his hips and grabbed her hands in his, as she laid her head back onto his shoulder. Kissing her throat, he dragged his hands back up her arms, resting his hands on her shoulders for a moment.

"John?"

"Yes?"

She hesitantly turned around to face him in the close quarters. He peered down at her, her face so close to his, he felt that if he tried he could hear her thoughts, sense her dreams. He brought his hands to her arms and moved to kiss her, his sight hazy.

She looked down.

"What is it?"

"I need to ask something, and I don't know that I'll like the answer."

"Uh, oh."

Alex met his eyes. "This is serious."

He nodded.

"How long have you... felt anything for me? I mean-"

He sighed, knowing what this was about. "For much too long, Cabot. Much too long. And I'm sorry that our first time was so-" he gave it a moment of thought. "Crude, I guess."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Don't be sorry. It wasn't crude, at all."

He raised his eyebrows and she laughed. "Okay well, maybe just a little. But- you had feelings for me before, well, before then?"

He laughed. "I certainly did. I wouldn't have done that with just anyone. Believe me."

"Neither would I."

They stood there for a moment, just looking into each others eyes, and John nodded slowly, hoping what she said meant what he wanted it to. That she had a real desire and actual emotions for him.

He felt her hands moving up his chest and felt his stomach quiver. The slightest touch from her, and he was unstable and unable to think clearly.

He looked down at her hands to find them unbuttoning his shirt. He caught one in his and kissed each finger, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Did you bring..."

He nodded, dizzy, the moment suddenly so surreal.

She grasped his hand and walked with him, leading him to the bedroom. As she opened the door, he was surprised to find a very cozy atmosphere with books of fiction instead of law books, and a comfortable looking loveseat in the corner. A queen sized bed in plush tan comforters was situated in the middle of the small room.

He saw a couple of teddy bears on a nightstand by the bed. "I would have never guessed you one for stuffed animals, counselor."

She blushed, embarrassed, and walked over to the window closing the drapes. Sensing she got the wrong impression about his comment he added, "I have my own."

Frowning, she turned to him. "You have stuffed animals?"

"No plural. Just one." He looked at hers, using them as an excuse not to meet her eyes. It made this very unmanly confession a little easier. "Everyone needs a little company. Someone in their life. I'm not much of a cat person, and I have no time for a dog, so-"

Lips cut John off, surprising him. He had never been so happy about being interrupted. She pulled him to her adamantly, and he could tell he must have hit a familiar chord.

Of course, loneliness was no surprise on any job of their nature, but he would have never guessed Alex Cabot could have spent solitary nights that would have compared with the nights of hell he'd been through. But with the passion and fierceness in her kisses, and her reactions that didn't differ far from his, he supposed anything was possible. Even if it was as unbelievable as Alex not having someone in her life.

He pulled her away from him and looked in her eyes. "You, too?"

Swallowing hard, she nodded then grabbed the bottom of her shirt. Placing his hands on hers, he shook his head. "Let me." She held her arms in the air as he brought the shirt up, but stopped and encircled the it around her wrists, then kissed her, backing her up to the bed.

Grabbing her waist and pulling her arms down, but not letting them out of their cotton cuffs, he gently lowered her to the bed, then pulled himself on top of her.

He sat up, making sure not to put his full weight on her and traced a finger from her face to her throat to her breasts. He released the shirt for a moment, and, noticing that she didn't free herself from the constraint, unhooked her bra from the front. He slowly peeled the cups away from her breasts, the buds already hardening. He ran his eyes hungrily over her already familiar body, and she squirmed, a little self-conscious. He bent down to whisper in her ear. "You're beautiful." He ran his tongue lightly over the back of her ear, and she shuddered.

"Can you, um, turn off the light?" she asked, her voice cracking.

He nuzzled her in the same place, causing a smaller quiver. "Depends. Where is it?"

"The nightstand."

He sat up running his hand through her hair, then stretched over and flipped off the lamp.

The room was still lit from the filtered light from outside, the flimsy drapes only translucent and not opaque.

He leaned back to her, saw her smile, and kissed her throat, working his way tantalizingly down to her breasts. He grabbed her wrists still in her shirt and pushed them over her head.

She groaned softly in the dark as he took her left nipple in his mouth, sucking and moving his tongue in circles. She rose up as he gently tugged on the tip with his lips. He ran his tongue down into the valley between her breasts, then up over the slope of her right breast. He licked her, then gently nibbled.

She gasped, loudly calling his name. He smiled, aware of what he was doing to her body and loved it.

He moved his hand down inside her pants, above her underwear and kneaded. She rocked up against his hand, and tried weakly to free her arms from his grasp. He didn't let her go immediately, teasing her instead, his growing satisfaction at her whimpers of pleasure more evident.

He sat up and she quickly swung her arms around his neck. Before he could protest she plopped him over on his back, and pulled her arms back to her. She yanked her wrists free and bent over him to whisper in his ear. "My turn."

He held no objection to her taking over the lead.

Her hands ran over his chest, deftly unbuttoning the shirt. As she pulled it off of him, throwing it to the side, she ran her tongue up his chest and to his own sensitive areolas.

She ground her hips into him, his groin to hers, and he squeezed his eyes shut, clenching the comforter. Sparks flew in front of his closed eyes, and she pressed to him a second time, and a throaty growl escaped his lips. She laughed sensually at his reaction.

He felt her hand travel downwards for the second time that night. This time there was no reason to stop her.

Looking up at the ceiling, he heard his zipper opening, and felt the pressure against his throbbing arousal diminish. Alex tugged at his pants and boxers, taking them off, and he heard his clothes hit wall.

She massaged her hands around his inner thighs, making him squirm against the bed, closing his eyes once more. He tried to grab and pull her on top of him, but she pushed him roughly back to the bed.

She wasn't done.

He was hot and sweat formed on his forehead as she teased him with her tongue. Over and around, on his inner thighs, just teasing him.

He shivered, murmuring her name. As if this was the sign she was waiting for, she stopped. He was about to open his eyes when an explosion of sensation blasted through his body. He felt the wet silk of her mouth on his erection and moaned loudly, calling her name. He moved his hand down to lightly touch her head, pulling gently on her hair. She was slowly succeeding in driving him mad, or at least to his breaking point.

When he felt the suction of her mouth begin again, her lips around him tightening, he knew it was time.

"Alex?" he called gruffly, not recognizing his own voice.

Understood, he felt her mouth leave him and was relieved but heavily disappointed.

He heard her searching through his pants. After a moment he heard something rip, and he opened his eyes as Alex put the condom on him, her fingers gentle.

Forcing himself to sit up, he pulled her to sit on top of him, her slacks rubbing against his skin creating friction. He kissed her hard, almost vehemently, then pushed her onto the bed. He stood, yanking off her pants, her underwear sliding down in junction.

She pulled him roughly to her, and they kissed again, this time more fiercely. Their mouths were still pressed firmly together when he entered her, and she cried into him.

She broke away from their kiss and shoved her face to his neck. He pushed his hips into hers, filling her, trying to take it slowly, but not having much control. She grabbed and arched to him, making his world go in and out of focus. Their hips sped up in perfect union, and he held her close to him. Her grip on his back tightened, her nails biting into his skin.

For a moment everything else was gone. As they moved together, every sense, every noise, every feeling became just the two of them, no other entity mattering more than the perfect harmony they were creating. She cried his name out loudly in his ear as she reached her pinnacle, clinging to him desperately. John felt himself climax, and held on to the moment as long as he could.

Then it was over and, shuddering, he collapsed onto her. He rolled over pulling her with him, and they stayed there for several minutes, her head on his chest, both panting.

He saw that she was beginning to grow sleepy, so he gently moved her, pulled back the covers and helped her into them. He quickly put on his boxers and went to the bathroom.

As he washed his hands he looked in the mirror and recognized a smile he hadn't seen in years.

Has it been years?, he thought absentmindedly. It felt like decades, if not centuries.

Returning to her room, he stood in the doorway for a moment, just appreciating the woman that had returned to him a part of himself he had thought missing. He was sure the smile was just a very small piece of what she had given him.

There had been a black hole in his life, something sucking any light and joy from his life. Going home to nothing was absolute agony. Pure hell.

But Alex had given him a lightheartedness, even a giddiness, though he dared not admit it to anyone, including her. Giddy was not his way. Abject self humor, and a cynical outlook were more to his liking. Admittedly being "giddy" could seriously cramp his style.

He pealed back the covers, and pulled Alex to him, encasing her in his arms, not ever intending to let her go. He drew her hair back, and kissed her neck, then her ear.

She mumbled something void to John's ears and scooted herself back into him. He didn't think they could possibly get close enough to satisfy either of them.

Alex awoke, startled and cold. She looked down to see that not only was she not wearing any clothes, which was not a surprise, but to find that the comforters and sheets were also missing.

Cover stealer, she thought affectionately and smiled.

She looked over to John and her smile vanished. He was tossing and turning in the dim light, muttering mournfully, with the last sheet desperately clenched in one hand.

She couldn't hear his words, but knew the story well enough, and hoped she could find someway to help. Nightmares were a common enough occurrence in her bedroom, though seeing what they did to a person physically was new to her. She felt a pain in her heart as John cried out. He had seen things far, far worse than she ever would, and she wondered what could possibly be haunting him tonight.

She got up quickly, grabbing the sheets and comforters, then put them back on John who was almost in the middle of the bed. She climbed in on his side, and pulled him to her. She didn't want to wake him, didn't want him to know that she had seen him so vulnerable, so she did it gently, tugging him ever so lightly.

As he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, his face pressing into her neck, she felt his hot tears on her skin and the pain in her heart deepened drastically. She never in a million years would have thought tears could have run through the seemingly dry-eyed, tough and cynical John Munch.

Then again, he had been nothing but gentle, kind, and attentive to her in ways that she had never found in other men. He'd been there for her that night emotionally, which was something she hadn't had nor asked of someone else in years. Yet, John knew it was exactly what she needed.

Maybe he knew it was what she needed because he himself lacked that kind of support in his life.

She decided it was time to change her view of the detective.

The morning light finally made it's way into John's senses. He opened his eyes, his body warm in Alex's arms. Memories of last night instantly poured into his mind and he smiled lazily.

He looked up and raised his eyebrows, surprised to see his bed partner awake. Their eyes met and his moved his lips to hers. Something in her kiss, in the way she moved her hand to run through his hair, touched him. It seemed so, affectionate, so sweet and caring.

"Hi. Weren't you over there?" he asked motioning behind him with his thumb.

She nodded, smiling, but the look in her eyes was strange. "I think so, but who can tell."

Her hand caressed his face, thumb trailing over his lips. He took her hand and kissed it, then splayed his fingers settling them between hers. He was moving to kiss her again when realization hit his face. "What time is it?"

She checked the clock on her nightstand then turned back to him, wincing. "9:15."

"Damn it. I gotta get to work. I'm over an hour late. What about you?" He slid out of bed grabbing his pants from beside the bed.

"I've got my first day off in more than a month. I have to go to trial tomorrow and Abby thought it was better if I took the day off, because of the Mitchell case."

He looked back at her, and caught her eye. She smiled at him. "I'm fine. Really. Thanks to you."

She reached over letting the sheets fall to the bed and kissed him then got up and walked over to her closet, pulling out a robe. As she closed the door, she caught John gazing at her, naked in the sunlight.

Laughing, she put her robe on. "Foot's in the wrong leg of your pants, silly."


THE END