Latest Posts by indiefrans - Page 2

resolve

“Limes?” Casey looked amused, like she knew she’d caught her.

calex. explicit. ao3. 2.3k words.

Alex knew that this would eventually have to stop, that there was a deadline looming. That being said-- she was not trying to do anything to accelerate that eventuality. Casey was under her, rolling her hips up into hers. Her hands gripped Alex’s waist as she threw herself into their kissing, eager, yielding, responsive. She liked this part of Casey, her informal submission. She never demanded Alex’s dominance, but rather requested her guidance, like they were dancing. Casey made an mmph noise that helped Alex’s pulse as it was already starting to race. Alex took that opportunity to explore Casey’s soft mouth further, to slip a hand from where it rested on her shoulder under her sweatshirt.

It was going to have to stop because Alex knew that a) neither of them had time for this, and b) they were going to be sharing a bureau chiefship in about a week. McCoy had begged for them both back, said he had a vision to “revamp” Sex Crimes (whatever that meant) and that he wanted two heads. The offer had been interesting, appealing, and they were both willing to try. But, they both knew that they shouldn’t keep sleeping with each other if they were going to be working that closely together. It just didn’t make any sense.

Something about making the most with the time they had left had them fucking like they really meant it. Every day for the last three had seen them in one of their apartments, much like this. Alex had always liked having someone who let her have her way with them, who encouraged her to make the plan and see it through. It satisfied her urge for control without her ever having to take over. Casey, for her part, always seemed to enjoy the ride as much as Alex liked driving. She hissed and then moaned when Alex nipped, then kissed at her neck.

Alex hummed in satisfaction. Casey was so demonstrative, so clear. Alex thought that might make working together easier, once they couldn’t do this anymore. ‘This,’ now was Alex’s hand reaching up from where it rested on Casey’s ribs to catch a nipple gently between two of her fingers, and Casey sighing. Alex kissed her lips again, and wondered how much more teasing Casey would take from her tonight. She had never quite found a limit. That patience of hers worried Alex sometimes. She knew it translated into stubbornness. Alex would be crossing that bridge when she came to it. Besides, patience was not particularly among her virtues.

The unlikeliness of their circumstances occasionally would strike Alex, surprise her. She had slept with so many women she went to law school with, she had slept with plenty of colleagues, and many friends, some of them often-- none of them so consistently yet so casually as Casey. She was undemanding and enthusiastic at once.

“I wish we didn’t have to go into work tomorrow,” Casey said

“Why are you looking at the clock?” Alex replied. “Focus.”

Casey exhaled. “I know, it’s just,” she started. She was interrupted by a moan when Alex flattened her palm and squeezed, “less time for this.”

“It is a shame,” Alex said, “we really have been doing a lot of ‘this,’ haven’t we?”

“It feels like we’ve been fucking for seventy-two hours straight, yeah.” Alex grinned. She kissed Casey, then spoke.

“A little less than that.” Alex sat back, beckoning Casey to follow her. “We didn’t see each other until noon on Friday.” Casey laughed. That had been a long lunch indeed. Alex had vowed to come in early Monday to make up for that and the early evening they’d called. Looking at the clock now, that was seeming less and less likely. She begun taking Casey’s crewneck off and let her finish that job. Alex stretched her neck. She ran her hand along Casey’s collarbone and smiled when that got her a twitch.

“One more week…” Casey trailed off. Alex felt herself pout. “We’re going to be so busy.”

“I know,” Alex said. “Too busy for ‘this,’” she grazed the skin of Casey’s pale breast with her lips. Casey let out an exaggerated sigh. “Not to mention…”

“I know,” said Casey.

“It’s too bad,” said Alex. “Why did we take the job again?”

“Make a difference,” Casey said, unconvinced. Alex laughed, nothing more than an exhale.

“Yeah,” said Alex, “I guess.” The two of them knew how important this opportunity could be for them, to say nothing of how good they would be at it. Right now, though, with her friend of many years half-nude in front of her, Alex questioned her sanity. Casey idly slid a hand through Alex’s hair. She arched and hummed when Alex circled her tongue around, like she always did. She saw the clock against her will, and resolved to hurry up a little. She ghosted her hand over Casey’s shorts, at her hip, then between her legs.

It wasn’t that Jack McCoy would care that they were having sex, and it wasn’t that Alex thought it was inherently wrong to sleep with your coworkers. They were just going to be completely enmeshed in each others’ work lives. And she could acknowledge that when they weren’t in the same bed. Casey’s body responded to the gentle pressure. Alex removed her own shirt. Casey reached a hand up and took one of Alex’s in it. She kissed her knuckles. Alex appreciated the sweetness of the gesture.

It was chilly. It had almost hit 70 today, but the night was reminding her that it was still only March. Her open window had been their only exposure to the beautiful day, having only left the rumpled bed for coffee, breakfast (Casey had insisted on at least some food), and breakfast for dinner. The newspaper was on the floor, as well as several rounds of clothes, a detective novel that Casey was reading (weird choice in Alex’s opinion), and a few errant work files. There were two glasses of ice water on the side table, and Alex took a sip from one, which could have originally been hers or not.

Casey made an eep noise when Alex’s cold lips touched her stomach, then lower. She slipped two fingers on each hand under the waistband of Casey’s shorts and pulled. They had easily discarded the need for undergarments days ago, and Alex sat up to take in a favorite, familiar sight of hers, Casey nude on her back in the moonlight, the curls of her ample red bush, her hard nipples. Casey smiled up at her, and Alex went back to where she was. She took in the scent she knew so well.

“You know,” she said, resting her head against Casey’s right thigh for a moment.

“Hm,” said Casey, who never seemed to mind Alex’s propensity for having full on conversations during sex.

“I am going to miss getting to do this with you.”

“Me too,” said Casey. She wiggled a bit, getting comfortable. When Alex finally touched her, tasted her wetness, her tongue ever-so-light against Casey’s clit, her sounds of pleasure filled the room like fragrant smoke. “I’m going to miss it too.”

---

Their three-day marathon turned out to have been a smart move, because they saw almost none of each other during their last week in separate bureaus. Alex got swept up into her last case in Homicide, Casey had to put out several of the bureaucratic fires she was eager to leave behind in Appeals (she had expressed to Alex on more than one occasion just how ready she was to get out of there). The most they managed was happy hour on Thursday, and that hardly counted— Rubirosa and Cutter had been there too.

What’s more, Alex had come down with a (mid-spring? It was unfair) cold the next day, which had spoiled their plans for one last hurrah. Casey, germaphobe that she was, had dropped off a quart of chicken soup with rice (the kind she made when someone really needed it, that turned to jello in the fridge) on Alex’s stoop with a note that read get better before Monday, or else. It had made Alex laugh. She sent Casey an angry text in response, blaming her for a coughing fit that sent her back to bed.

She did feel better Monday morning, and came in energized and ready to take on their new challenge. From the moment she walked in, Casey projected that hard-won, unshaken confidence that Alex knew she had in her. Casey knocked on her open door, box in hand, just a minute or two after Alex started unpacking.

“You look good,” Casey said.

“Good morning to you too, Casey,” said Alex, putting down a paperweight.

“No, I mean,” Casey said with a smile, “you don’t look sick.”

“That’s very nice of you to say,” said Alex.

“Good morning, Alex.” Casey said, grinning now, starting over. Nobody else had arrived yet. Alex wasn’t surprised that they’d had the same idea. She look a deep breath.

“You ready?” Alex asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” Casey shrugged and nodded towards her office across the hallway.

---

Casey leaned back in her office chair, hands above her head. She puffed out her cheeks and closed her eyes. Their eyes met when she opened them, and Casey raised her hand in a half-wave, holding her fountain pen. Alex put down the journal she was reading and walked across the hall. She perched on the arm of the blue couch against the other wall.

They had never really worked together before. It really felt like they were collaboratively building the department from the ground up to their specifications. They’d been brought even closer in a matter of weeks. They were usually the first ones in and the last ones out.

“Do I need to kick you out?” Asked Alex.

“You do not have that authority,” said Casey.

“Sorry,” said Alex, “do I need to encourage you to leave?”

Casey took a deep breath. “That depends,” she said.

“On?” Said Alex, slipping into the banter they’d always saved for private places.

“On what I get if I do,” Casey replied, “because I really need to finish this opening statement.”

“You have a couple days still,” said Alex, “I’m the one who has court tomorrow.” She checked her watch. It was almost ten o’clock.

“And I know for a fact you finished yours three days ago.” Casey set down her pen. Alex bit her lip and saw Casey’s eyes dart there. Alex thought for a split second about slowing this down.

“Maybe,” she said instead. “What you get… do you want whisky or wine? Because I have both.”

Casey raised her eyebrows. “Shame,” she said. “I’ve been daydreaming about a gin and tonic.”

“I’m sure that could be arranged,” Alex said.

---

“You know, I thought you would take me somewhere a little classier,” said Casey as they walked in to the brightly lit store. Alex looked back at her. She cocked her head to the side.

“They have the actual good stuff,” she said.

“I see,” said Casey. She brushed her hand against Alex’s. “Always looking out for me.”

“You know me,” said Alex, locating the Botanist. She got the shop attendant to unlock it.

She would be lying if she said she hadn’t found certain aspects of her new position challenging, frustrating even. Casey’s emerald green sweater was on the list, as was her silver necklace.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t gone long periods of time without sleeping together before. Even without Alex’s time away or the monogamous relationships they’d both been in, they had gone months before, because of circumstances (once, because Casey had taken a temporary vow of celibacy). It had never taken a great amount of willpower before, but she was having a little trouble not kissing Casey in the fluorescent light of this liquor store.

“Alex,” said Casey. “Did you want something else?”

“Hm,” she said, “no, no. I have some tonic.”

“Limes?” Casey looked amused, like she knew she’d caught her.

“They have them at the register.” Alex double checked she’d gotten the right bottle. Casey placed her hand between Alex’s shoulder blades and turned Alex that way. Alex’s skin tingled.

---

“I promise I tried,” Casey said. She leaned forward and put her glass down on Alex’s counter, having only had a couple sips.

“Oh?” said Alex. “Tried what?”

“Not to do this,” she said, and took Alex’s hand, pulling her towards her, then touching her cheek with the other hand, kissed her.

“Yeah,” said Alex, inches away from Casey’s lips, “me too.” The hand that was on Alex’s cheek laced into her hair. The kiss grew deep and hungry.

“It’s hard when you’re across the hallway,” Casey said. “My resolve wears thin.” Alex’s chest rose and fell with a deep breath.

“Tell me again why we thought this was a good idea,” said Alex, playing with Casey’s necklace.

“I don’t remember,” said Casey. “We’re the best people for the job,” she revised.

“Ugh,” said Alex. “The curse of the competent.” Casey laughed.

“You do know what you’re doing,” she said. Alex raised her eyebrows.

“I do,” she said, “don’t I?” Casey rolled her eyes. Alex dropped the necklace and playfully pushed away from her. “You’re not so clueless yourself.” Casey pulled her back.

“Yeah,” she said. Alex kissed her this time and felt Casey smiling into it, parting her lips. “Not my fault you look at me like that.”

“Guess so,” said Alex. “My apologies.” Casey smirked.

“You sound very apologetic.” She said.

“Deeply,” said Alex. “I missed you, Casey,” she said, honesty winning over sarcasm.

“I missed you, too,” said Casey quietly, warmly, and kissed her again.

---

It was different in the morning. Alex made them coffee like she always did, early riser she was. The air smelled like spring, the morning sun shone through her window, birds cheeped.

Casey emerged from her bedroom in a pair of her sweats and a tank top. Alex looked at her and saw her friend, her colleague; and when she wished her a good morning, smiling at her fondly, something entirely new.

Aweee I miss seeing this

Hehehee

She’s a good listener 🙂‍↕️

wife reveal

Fuckckck somebody need to talk me into some sense

i remember crying on christmas day, it was so good but i am telling my therapist about this.

A love to live for: Alexandra Cabot core.

Grrrrrhhrhrhr

(Jane’s request: )

Alex hugs Casey from behind while she’s cooking🫠

same wardrobe…..I see

hmm… mhm…

polly when she’s overreacting:

Grgrggrerrr the giver of my life 🩷

woof

yes mommy 🫡

her tts told me to look but i **stare**

“Alex loved how Casey’s hair looked when it was messy— in the mornings, right after her softball games, every practice on the batting cages— she loved how frizzy it could get. Above all, she loved its hue. It was one of Alex’s favourite things—autumn; Casey’s hair colour.”

therapist: during a stressful time, what do you do to help you calm down?

casey: i squeeze my stress balls

therapist: very good. that’s a good coping mechanism.

casey, later that night: *squeezing alex’s tits as she rants to her about how stressful her day was*

Oh god and not me searching up ‘Custom oil painting’ the day you mentioned it.

I want it so bad, it’s not funny.

What are you looking at, Alexandra?

have nothing to say except THEY ARE SO IN LOVE.

not stephanie calling diane a pretty lady 🙂‍↔️

Holy!? im going feral you better share this

not stephanie calling diane a pretty lady 🙂‍↔️

not stephanie calling diane a pretty lady 🙂‍↔️

rip alex cabot with bangs. no one ever understood how cunty and iconic you were. you will always be missed and appreciated by me

holy i want this treatment so bad

And they happened to be married 🫦

so this is casey’s view? interesting

screaming already. I just know that it is going to be amazing 🫦

Blood & Boundaries ➫ calex

VAMPIRE AU - this started out as a one shot but i got carried away. anyway thanks to @iwoulddieforher for listening to me ramble + advice & @indiefrans for supporting my delusions.

PREVIEW BELOW THE CUT - LMK IF YOU WANNA READ THIS?!

Casey Novak sat at her desk, combing through the file for what seemed like the hundredth time. Her brow furrowed as she connected the dots, a trail of irregularities surrounding the case she'd been assigned. The high-profile client, a powerful conglomerate, was involved in far more than a few questionable dealings. As she continued to uncover hints of illegal activities, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more sinister lurking beneath the surface.

The deeper she went, the more she realized that some lines in the case pointed to things that couldn’t possibly be real — ancient myths, legends, whispers of immortals — too absurd to be anything but fiction. But the inconsistencies gnawed at her. This wasn’t just about corporate crime. This was something else entirely, something darker.

Unbeknownst to Casey, her investigation had caught the attention of someone who had no interest in being discovered. Alex, a centuries-old vampire, had kept a careful distance from the world of human affairs. She'd long since learned to play the game, existing in the shadows of society, invisible but always in control. But Casey’s relentless pursuit was threatening the delicate balance Alex had cultivated for hundreds of years.

When Alex Cabot first discovered that a human attorney was beginning to piece together truths that had been buried for centuries, she was amused. No one had ever come so close to the heart of her world. But that amusement quickly shifted to something darker, more dangerous, as Casey’s investigation grew bolder.

She watched Casey from the shadows, intrigued by her intellect and her unwavering determination. She was unlike anyone Alex had encountered - too human, too vulnerable but there was something about her that stirred something long buried in Alex. It wasn’t just the case she was working on. It was Casey. Her presence, her strength, her fiery curiosity.

Alex stood at the window of her private penthouse, overlooking the city that never slept. Casey was too close now. She had to be dealt with. Alex could make her disappear, erase her memories, silence her investigation. But as she stared into the darkness, her mind lingered on a darker choice, one that threatened to shatter the carefully constructed walls she had built around herself.

To kill her would be the logical decision. After all, it was what Alex had done for centuries - silencing threats with ruthless efficiency. But there was a part of her, something old and restless, that wondered if there could be more. What if she claimed Casey, kept her by her side, made her part of her world? The thought made her heart race, something far more dangerous than thirst or hunger coursing through her.

Casey : and for what kind of woman gets to love Alex? oh it’s me Casey Novak-Cabot

I just drew ton of calex kids but I haven’t thought about their name yet💀

Amelia Chase's first interaction with Munch and Fin is what I'd call MLM/WLW hostility

The Art of Planning (and How Love Ruins It). calex one shot.

SUMMARY: In which Alex overthinks gifts, Casey burns dinner, and love happens anyway.

Alex Cabot had built her career on being three steps ahead. In the courtroom, her reputation for meticulous preparation was legendary – defense attorneys visibly deflated when they saw her striding in, armed with perfectly organized files and arguments sharp enough to slice through even the most carefully constructed alibis. Her colleagues joked that she probably planned her grocery shopping with the same tactical precision she applied to cross-examinations.

They weren't entirely wrong.

But now, on a grey February afternoon that couldn't seem to decide between rain and snow, Manhattan's most formidable ADA sat in her corner office on the tenth floor, surrounded by the fruits of what could only be described as a gift-buying panic spiral.

The evidence of her unraveling was spread across her usually pristine desk: six presents – no, seven, if you counted the small box of artisanal chocolates she'd impulse-bought on her lunch break. Each item had seemed perfect in isolation, chosen with the kind of thoughtful consideration that spoke of hours spent analyzing casual conversations, filing away small details, noting the way Casey's eyes would linger on certain things in store windows during their weekend walks.

A leather-bound journal, smooth and elegant, because Casey once mentioned during a late-night conversation over take out and case files that she preferred writing things down by hand rather than typing them into her phone. "There's something about pen on paper," she'd said, absently twirling lo mein around her fork. "Like you're really connecting with your thoughts."

Next to it sat the first-edition copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, sourced from a rare bookstore in the Village that Alex had visited four times before committing to the purchase. She'd watched Casey's face light up whenever she referenced the book, had seen the worn paperback copy on her office shelf, its spine cracked from countless readings.

The cashmere throw blanket was folded into a perfect square, its soft grey material catching the winter light. That one had been easy – Casey was always stealing Alex's blanket during their movie nights, wrapping herself in it like a cocoon and claiming squatter's rights with a grin that made argument impossible. An adorable but exasperating habit.

A silver necklace, understated yet sophisticated, something that would look effortlessly perfect against the curve of Casey’s collarbone. Alex had spent an entire Saturday afternoon in Tiffany's, driving the sales associate slightly mad with her determination to find something that would suit Casey's understated style. Nothing flashy enough to draw attention in court, but beautiful enough to make her eyes sparkle when she caught her reflection.

The bottle of small-batch bourbon stood sentinel among the softer gifts, its amber contents promising warmth. Alex was ninety percent certain it was Casey's preferred brand – she'd seen her order it once at Forlini's after a particularly brutal case, but now doubt crept in. What if she'd remembered wrong?

And then there was the plush golden retriever, sitting there like a furry manifestation of Alex's complete loss of perspective. She blamed that one on the late-night conversation they'd had months ago, when Casey had joked about wanting a dog. It had been an offhand comment, something small, something inconsequential. And yet, somehow that had translated into Alex buying a stuffed animal like they were teenagers exchanging Valentine's gifts in high school.

But now? Now she was sitting here, staring at this ridiculous assortment of gifts, and none of it felt like the gift. The one that would say what she wanted it to say, what she hadn't quite figured out how to put into words yet.

She ran both hands through her hair, disheveling the perfect blonde waves she'd spent twenty minutes styling that morning. "What am I doing?"

Because Valentine’s Day was tonight, and for the first time in her life, Alex had no plan

The question hung in the air, unanswered. The gifts stared back at her, each one suddenly seeming inadequate, too much, or completely wrong for their first Valentine's Day together.

Their first Valentine's Day.

The thought sent another wave of anxiety through her chest. Because this wasn't just about gifts – this was about what they meant. About the way Casey had slowly but surely dismantled every careful wall Alex had built around her heart, not with battering rams or siege engines, but with crooked smiles and terrible puns and a kindness that seemed as natural as breathing.

She was so lost in her spiral of overthinking that the knock on her office door barely registered before it swung open.

"Alex—"

She jumped, her head snapping up to find Olivia Benson standing in her doorway, dark eyes taking in the gift shop display with growing amusement.

The silence stretched for one beat, two.

Then—

"Wow." Olivia's eyebrow arched with the precision of a master interrogator. "Are you—are you starting a side business I should know about?"

Alex let her head fall forward with a groan. "Go away."

"Let me guess," Olivia continued, ignoring the dismissal as she stepped fully into the office, closing the door behind her. "You have no idea what to give Casey?"

Alex straightened, crossing her arms. "I do have an idea. Several, actually."

Olivia gestured toward the overwhelming collection. "Clearly."

"It has to be perfect," Alex insisted, the words carrying more weight than she'd intended.

Olivia snorted, stepping further inside. "Alex, it’s Valentine’s Day, not a Supreme Court case."

"You don’t understand," Alex muttered, leaning back in her chair. "It has to be the gift. The one that shows her how much I—" She cut herself off, pressing her lips together.

Olivia’s smirk softened into something more knowing.

"Oh," she said, voice lighter. "I see what this is about."

Alex looked away, fixing her gaze on the bourbon bottle as if it held the answers.

"You know she's going to love whatever you give her, right? The woman looks at you like you hung the moon."

Alex sighed, removing her glasses to rub at her temples. "It doesn't feel right yet. None of it feels... enough."

"You do realize," Olivia said, perching on the edge of Alex's desk with familiar ease, "that Casey is probably driving herself just as crazy right now?"

Alex scoffed. "Casey? Freaking out? Olivia, she's the most laid-back person I've ever met. She wore Converse to court last week."

"Those were her backup shoes and you know it," Olivia countered. "Her heel broke on the courthouse steps. But trust me," her grin turned knowing, "when it comes to you? That woman is anything but laid-back."

Meanwhile, across town...

Casey Novak was indeed proving Olivia's point by pacing the length of her apartment, stress-eating her way through a heart-shaped box of chocolates that she'd bought for Alex but opened in a moment of weakness.

"I'm screwed," she announced to her audience of one, running her free hand through already-disheveled red hair. "Completely and utterly screwed."

John Munch, resident conspiracy theorist and unlikely relationship counselor, watched her from his spot on her worn leather couch. He'd shown up twenty minutes ago with case files that could have easily waited until tomorrow, fooling exactly no one about his real reasons for visiting.

"This is wildly entertaining," he commented, helping himself to one of the rapidly diminishing chocolates. "Like watching a rom-com in real time, but with more pacing and fewer musical montages."

"Munch," Casey groaned, flopping onto the couch beside him. "I had everything planned. The perfect reservation at that little Italian place she loves – the one where the owner still makes everything from his grandmother's recipes. And now? Now I have nothing. The pipe burst in their kitchen this morning, they're closed for at least a week, and every other decent restaurant in Manhattan has been booked solid for months."

"You could always cook something," Munch suggested, examining a chocolate before popping it into his mouth.

Casey turned to stare at him, green eyes wide with horror. "Have you met me? I burned instant ramen last week. Instant. Ramen."

"Ah," Munch nodded sagely. "Fair point."

Casey slumped further into the couch, staring at her ceiling as if it might offer solutions. "What do you get someone who color-codes their legal briefs and probably has a spreadsheet for organizing her sock drawer?"

"Something she doesn't know she wants yet," Munch offered, his voice carrying the kind of wisdom that came from decades of observing human nature – and several failed marriages of his own.

Casey sat up slowly, something shifting in her expression. "That's... actually helpful."

"Don't sound so surprised," Munch smirked. "I have my moments."

The ceiling fan spun lazily above them, stirring the winter-cold air. Casey's apartment was smaller than Alex's, cozier, with mismatched furniture and law books stacked on every available surface. Photos covered one wall – her family, her softball team, candid shots of the squad at various gatherings. And there, right in the center, a picture from the summer: Alex laughing at something off-camera, the setting sun turning her hair to gold, her guard completely down in a way few people ever got to see.

Casey's eyes fixed on that photo, and something settled in her chest. "Right," she said, standing up with sudden determination. "I need to go shopping."

Munch raised an eyebrow. "Now? It's almost five."

"Exactly," Casey grabbed her coat. "I have two hours before I'm supposed to be at Alex's. Plenty of time."

"For what?"

Casey grinned, an idea taking shape. "Something she doesn't know she wants yet."

By the time they met at Alex’s apartment, both of them were still very convinced they had somehow managed to ruin Valentine’s Day.

Alex's apartment occupied the corner of a pre-war building in the West Village, all high ceilings and hardwood floors and windows that caught the last rays of sunset. Usually, the space felt like a reflection of its owner – elegant, organized, everything in its proper place. But tonight, the familiar rooms held a different energy, charged with anticipation and the faint scent of... something burning.

Alex had eventually settled on giving Casey the book—plus the necklace, because she couldn’t decide—and Casey, in a moment of pure panic, had decided to cook.

As soon as Alex stepped into her apartment, an unusual noise pulled her toward the kitchen. The sight that met her stopped her cold.

Her immaculate kitchen – where she usually prepared nothing more complicated than coffee – had been transformed into what looked like the aftermath of a culinary war zone. Flour dusted the granite countertops like fresh snow. A pot of something that might have once been pasta sat abandoned in the sink. And in the middle of it all stood Casey Novak, wearing jeans and Alex's borrowed apron, staring at a slightly charred attempt at... something... with the same expression she usually reserved for particularly challenging cross-examinations.

"Casey?"

Casey jumped, nearly dropping the wooden spoon she was clutching like a lifeline. "Alex! Hi! You're early!"

Alex glanced at the antique wall clock – a gift from her grandmother – that hung between her windows. "It's seven."

"Exactly!" Casey nodded with the kind of desperate enthusiasm that suggested she was clinging to the last threads of a plan rapidly unraveling. "Early!"

Alex bit back a smile, taking in the complete picture: Casey's hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, a smudge of flour decorated her left cheek, and she had somehow managed to get tomato sauce on her forehead. She looked absolutely nothing like the polished ADA who could reduce defense attorneys to stammering messes, and absolutely everything like someone Alex wanted to kiss senseless.

"Casey," she said softly, stepping into the disaster zone that was her kitchen.

Casey's shoulders slumped. She ran a flour-dusted hand through her hair, adding to the general chaos. "Okay, so I had this really amazing dinner planned at Vincenzo's – you know, that little place where you always get the linguine with clams? But then their kitchen flooded, which, by the way, is definitely a conspiracy because who has a pipe burst on Valentine's Day? So I thought – how hard can cooking be? People do it every day. Children do it. I have multiple degrees. I once got a conviction with nothing but circumstantial evidence and a half-decent witness."

She gestured at the pot in the sink. "Turns out? Very hard. Cooking is very hard. And pasta is apparently a lot more complicated than 'boil water, add noodles.' Who knew?"

Alex stepped closer, examining the remnants of what appeared to be an attempt at marinara sauce. "You cooked for me?"

"Attempted to cook," Casey corrected, her voice carrying that particular mix of frustration and self-deprecating humor that Alex had fallen in love with months ago, even if she hadn't admitted it to herself at the time. "What you're looking at is less 'cooking' and more 'crime against Italian cuisine.'"

Alex's heart did something complicated in her chest. Because this was Casey – brilliant, passionate Casey who could argue constitutional law for hours but couldn't make coffee without detailed instructions – standing in her kitchen on Valentine's Day, having tried to cook dinner just because she knew Alex loved Italian food.

She reached out, brushing the flour from Casey's cheek with gentle fingers. "I love it."

Casey groaned. "You haven't even tasted it yet. Which, by the way, you're not going to, because I refuse to be responsible for giving you food poisoning on Valentine's Day."

Alex smirked. "Doesn't matter."

"You're just saying that because you brought me a present," Casey narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "and now you feel bad that I ruined dinner."

Alex hesitated, thinking of the collection of gifts she'd finally narrowed down to two. "...maybe."

Casey sighed dramatically, but her eyes were sparkling. "Fine. Let's see it. But first—" She reached for a dishtowel, attempting to clean some of the flour off her hands. "I should probably try to look less like I got into a fight with a bag of flour."

"I don't know," Alex mused, "I think it's a good look on you. Very... domestic."

Casey snorted. "Yeah, that's me. Domestic goddess." She gave up on the flour and turned to face Alex fully. "Okay, hit me with it. What perfectly thoughtful, absolutely perfect gift did Alexandra Cabot choose?"

Alex's confidence wavered slightly as she retrieved the carefully wrapped packages from where she'd left them in the living room. What if she'd overthought this? What if—

No. She was Alexandra Cabot. She did not second-guess herself.

(Except, apparently, when it came to Casey Novak.)

She handed over the first box, wrapped in simple silver paper. "This one first."

Casey took it carefully, as if it might explode. Her fingers traced the edges before finding the seam and unwrapping it with surprising delicacy for someone who usually attacked packaging like it had personally offended her.

The book's leather binding caught the light as she lifted it from its wrapping. Casey's breath caught audibly as she read the title, fingers hovering over the gilt lettering as if afraid to touch it.

"Alex..." Her voice was barely a whisper. "This is... is this..."

"First edition," Alex confirmed softly. "I remembered you saying it was your favorite."

Casey swallowed hard, still staring at the book. "My dad used to read it to me. Every summer when we visited my grandparents in Georgia. He'd do all the voices..." She trailed off, blinking rapidly.

"And this," Alex added quickly, not wanting Casey to cry (because if Casey cried, she would cry, and she'd spent far too long on her makeup for that), holding out the second box.

Casey opened it with slightly shaky hands, revealing the delicate silver necklace nestled against black velvet. A small pendant caught the light – a simple design that somehow managed to be both classic and modern, exactly like the woman it was meant for.

She stared at it for a long moment, then looked up at Alex with an expression that made Alex's heart skip several beats.

"Okay," Casey whispered, "now I feel worse about the pasta."

Alex laughed softly. "Don't. I love my gift."

"I burned pasta."

"You tried."

"And failed. Spectacularly."

"And I still love you."

The words fell into the space between them like stones into still water, ripples of meaning expanding outward. Alex felt her breath catch as she realized what she'd said – what she'd been feeling for months but hadn't dared to voice.

Casey went very still, her eyes wide and startlingly green in the kitchen's warm light.

Because they hadn't said that yet. Hadn't put words to this thing that had grown between them, starting with late-night strategy sessions over Chinese food and growing into something that made Alex's carefully ordered world tilt on its axis in the best possible way.

But now that the words were out there, Alex knew with absolute certainty that they were true. She loved Casey Novak, with her terrible puns and her passion for justice and her complete inability to cook pasta. She loved her in a way that made all her careful plans and strategies irrelevant, in a way that scared her and thrilled her in equal measure.

Casey's smile bloomed slowly, like sunrise breaking over the city. "You love me?" she whispered, and there was wonder in her voice, as if she couldn't quite believe it.

Alex exhaled, her fingers finding Casey's cheek again, thumb brushing over that stubborn smudge of flour. "Yeah," she said simply. "I do."

Casey swallowed, then whispered back, "I love you too." A pause, then: "Even though you're definitely going to hold this pasta thing over my head forever."

Alex laughed, soft and real. "Only until you learn to cook."

"So, forever then."

And then Alex kissed her, tasting flour and chocolate and something that might have been marinara sauce. Casey's hands came up to tangle in her hair, probably getting flour everywhere, but Alex couldn't bring herself to care.

Because this – this moment in her disaster of a kitchen, with the smell of burnt pasta in the air and Casey's heartbeat under her palms – this was perfect.

Later, they ordered takeout from the Thai place around the corner. They ate on Alex's couch, Casey wearing Alex's necklace and reading aloud from her new book, doing all the voices just like her father used to. The pasta pot sat soaking in the sink, a reminder that sometimes the best gifts aren't the ones we plan, but the ones that come from trying and failing and loving anyway.

And that made it the best Valentine's Day either of them had ever had.

Burnt pasta and all.

meow meow is sad :(

Riding the Line — calex

"THE LAW was all about control — measured words, calculated moves, carefully drawn lines. But watching Casey straddle that motorcycle, all raw power and reckless confidence, Alex realized some lines were meant to be crossed."

SUMMARY: Alex Cabot tries to keep things professional, but Casey Novak and her damn motorcycle make that impossible. Flirty banter turns into undeniable tension, and before Alex knows it, she’s gripping Casey’s waist on the back of that bike PAIRING: alex cabot & casey novak CAUTION: slight mention of legal and courtroom discussions, seduction, heavy teasing and flirting, recklessness, kissing, oral, scissoring , slight dom!sub!dynamics - 18+ WORD COUNT: 8.4K AUTHOR'S NOTE: i hope i've done your idea justice! @mafri00

THE FIRST TIME Alex Cabot saw Casey Novak straddling a motorcycle, she damn near forgot how to breathe. The low growl of the engine sent vibrations through the pavement beneath her heels, a sharp contrast to the crisp morning air that curled around her. The scent of leather, gasoline, and something undeniably Casey filled the space between them, and for a moment, Alex could do nothing but stare.

The smooth movement of Casey’s legs as she dismounted, the way the sunlight caught in the loose strands of her tousled auburn hair - every little detail conspired against Alex’s composure. Heat pooled at the base of her spine, and she swallowed hard, willing herself to maintain the polished indifference she was known for. But damn, it was a challenge.

It was an early morning in late September, the crisp autumn air carrying the scent of coffee and the faintest traces of rain from the night before. Alex had arrived at the DA’s office on schedule, coffee in hand, clad in her usual impeccable attire — pressed suit, understated heels, not a hair out of place. She’d barely taken two steps toward the entrance when the unmistakable growl of a powerful engine caught her attention. The sound rumbled through the air, drawing her gaze toward the street like a magnet.

There, clad in black leather and exuding an effortless, almost infuriating kind of cool, was Casey, dismounting a Harley Davidson like she had been born on one. The prosecutor’s auburn hair, usually tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail or bun, was slightly tousled from the ride, the loose strands brushing against the sleek collar of her jacket as she tugged off her helmet.

The leather fit her like a second skin, emphasizing her lean, athletic frame in a way that made Alex’s throat dry and her heart beat in places it had no business stirring at this hour. The fitted jacket, the snug jeans, the heavy boots — it was so far removed from the image of the Casey she was used to, the woman who spent hours buried in paperwork, who paced courtrooms with impassioned arguments and fiery determination.

And yet, it made so much sense.

Alex didn’t realize she was staring until Casey caught her eye from across the lot, a smirk ghosting the edges of her lips as she secured the helmet to the bike.

“Morning, Cabot,” Casey greeted, voice lower than usual, still carrying the remnants of sleep or maybe just the natural huskiness of someone who had spent the last twenty minutes riding something with raw, unfiltered power beneath her.

Alex barely managed a nod, fingers tightening slightly around the handle of her coffee cup. Her grip betrayed her, knuckles whitening as she fought to steady her breath, to suppress the unwelcome warmth crawling up her spine. It was just Casey — Casey, who had always been reckless, always pushed boundaries. And yet, seeing her like this, exuding raw confidence with that damn smirk, did something to her.

For a split second, Alex considered responding — something sharp, something dismissive — but her throat felt too tight, her mind too preoccupied with thoughts she had no business entertaining. So instead, she forced herself to look away, as if that alone could break whatever hold Casey had on her in that moment.

“Novak,” she returned, voice carefully schooled into neutral territory, but she felt the betrayal of her own body in the way her stomach twisted, heat pooling in places that had no business warming at the sight of a colleague.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? Casey wasn’t just some attractive stranger on a bike. She was Casey, her colleague, her equal, the woman with whom she had clashed and collaborated in equal measure, who drove her up the walls with her idealism but who also, infuriatingly, made Alex respect her all the more for it.

Alex turned briskly on her heel, heading into the building with a practiced indifference she did not feel. The second her office door clicked shut behind her, she exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her forehead.

This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. It was just Casey. Just Casey on a motorcycle. No big deal. No reason at all for the way her pulse was racing or the way her mind betrayed her with unprofessional, inappropriate, downright dangerous thoughts.

She sat down at her desk, staring blankly at the paperwork in front of her.

She was absolutely, utterly screwed.

For Casey, the motorcycle had started as a whim — a reckless decision made in the wake of her suspension, when frustration, anger, and a profound sense of loss had left her grasping for anything that felt like control. She still remembered the exact moment she made the decision.

It had been one of those suffocating nights, the ones where sleep refused to come, where her apartment felt too small, too quiet. She had been walking aimlessly through the city when she passed by a motorcycle dealership, the gleaming rows of machines catching the glow of the streetlights.

On impulse, she had stepped inside, running her fingers over the sleek metal, feeling the weight of something tangible, something powerful. The salesman had asked if she was looking to buy, and before she even thought it through, she had nodded. Yes. She was.

It wasn’t just about the machine — it was about reclaiming a part of herself, about finding a new way forward when her old path had crumbled beneath her feet. At first, it had been a distraction — something to focus on other than the crushing weight of disappointment and self-loathing. Something that wasn’t the echo of slammed doors or the voices of her colleagues offering pity-laced condolences.

She had taken lessons, spending hours on the open road, learning how to handle the beast beneath her. She learned to love the thrill of it, the way the wind whipped against her skin, the vibration of the engine beneath her, the sheer freedom of it all. It was different from anything else in her life — unpredictable, exhilarating, completely hers.

She hadn’t expected to keep it, hadn’t expected it to become a part of her, but when she got reinstated, the bike stayed. It became her morning routine, her escape, her moment of control before stepping back into the battlefield of the legal system.

And maybe, just maybe, it had its perks.

Casey had seen the way Alex reacted — stiff posture, sharp inhale, the way her fingers clenched just slightly around that coffee cup. It was subtle, but Casey was nothing if not observant.

She smirked to herself, running a gloved hand over the smooth surface of the gas tank. Maybe she was imagining it. Or maybe, just maybe, Alex Cabot had a weakness she wasn’t quite ready to admit.

This was going to be fun.

The relentless tick of the clock on her office wall did nothing to quiet the restless, burning heat inside her. Alex had spent years perfecting the art of discipline, of control — an iron-clad restraint that had been honed in the courtroom, sharpened over countless battles against opposing counsel, judges, and criminals alike.

And yet, here she was, barely able to focus on the neatly stacked files in front of her, her body betraying her with every slow throb of want curling deep in her belly.

The legal brief she had been attempting to review blurred before her eyes, the carefully constructed sentences dissolving into meaningless ink on paper as her mind betrayed her, dragging her back — over and over again — to her.

To Casey.

To the image of toned thighs flexing beneath black denim, of strong, capable hands gripping the handlebars of that damn motorcycle with effortless control, of the way Casey’s smirk had tilted just so, as if she knew exactly what she was doing to Alex. And maybe she did. Maybe she had seen the way Alex’s breath had caught, the way her fingers had tightened around the handle of her coffee cup, the way her carefully crafted poise had fractured in that single moment.

The worst part — the most frustrating, humiliating part — was that it wasn’t just the damn bike. No, the motorcycle was merely an accessory, an extension of Casey’s raw, unshaken confidence, of the kind of unrestrained freedom Alex had never allowed herself.

The real problem, the real disaster, was the woman who rode it. The way the leather hugged Casey’s body, emphasizing every line, every curve, the way her hair, wind-tossed and untamed, framed her face with an effortless sensuality that no courtroom or fluorescent-lit office could ever contain.

And God, the way she had looked at Alex — eyes dark with something unspoken, something challenging. It was a look that had followed Alex all day, haunting the spaces between her thoughts, creeping into places she had no business letting it go.

She shifted in her chair, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, but it was futile. She was aware—painfully, maddeningly aware — of the way her panties clung damply to her skin, of the slow, insistent ache pulsing between her thighs. It was unbearable, the way her own body conspired against her, betraying her under the weight of thoughts that were entirely inappropriate for the setting she was in. This was her office, for God’s sake.

A place of law, of order, of reason. Not the place where she should be biting the inside of her cheek to keep from moaning at the memory of how Casey’s body had looked astride that bike, her thighs spread just enough, her hips rolling forward slightly as she adjusted her balance, a teasing preview of something much filthier.

Alex sucked in a sharp breath, pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead, as if the force of it might somehow wipe the images from her mind. But it was impossible. The fantasy had already taken hold, spreading through her like wildfire, consuming every rational thought until she was no longer picturing Casey straddling the machine beneath her — but her.

She could see it, clear as day. The way Casey would move, confident and deliberate, pressing Alex back into the cool leather of her office chair, trapping her there with the weight of her body alone. The way her hands — rougher than Alex’s own, calloused in ways that spoke of strength and experience — would slide down her sides, teasing, possessive, knowing. The way her mouth, sinful and smirking, would ghost over Alex’s skin, hovering just long enough to make her beg.

Would she tease? Draw it out, just to watch Alex crumble? Or would she take what she wanted, as recklessly as she argued in court, as fearlessly as she rode that bike?

A shiver rolled down Alex’s spine, her breath coming faster now, her thighs clenching involuntarily beneath her desk as the wetness between them grew unbearable. She shouldn’t be thinking about this. Not here, not now, not when Casey was just a few floors below, close enough that if Alex wanted — if she really wanted — she could go find her. Could let the tension break, let the control slip, let Casey see exactly how deep this ran, how badly she needed.

But no. That wasn’t how this worked. That wasn’t who Alex was.

So instead, she forced her eyes open, forced herself to stare blankly at the stack of papers before her, hands curling into fists against the polished surface of her desk as she struggled to steady her breath.

This was ridiculous. This was unacceptable. This was dangerous.

And yet, beneath the weight of her own self-reproach, one single, undeniable truth remained.

She had never wanted anything more in her entire life.

Casey leaned back in her chair, the stiff leather creaking slightly beneath her as she stared blankly at the stack of case files on her desk. The words blurred together, an indecipherable mess of legal jargon that should have commanded her full attention, but her mind was elsewhere, hopelessly and utterly preoccupied. She absently twirled a pen between her fingers, the repetitive motion doing little to keep her grounded, her thoughts steadily unraveling into something far more indulgent. Alex.

God, she couldn’t shake the image of her. The way she had looked at Casey that morning — really looked at her. It had been a fleeting moment, over in the span of a heartbeat, but Casey had caught it, had seen the precise second Alex’s carefully constructed composure wavered. That sharp inhale, that subtle clench of her jaw, the way her grip on that coffee cup had tightened ever so slightly, as if it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

And beneath all that?

Heat. A raw, unfiltered hunger that Alex had desperately tried to suppress but had betrayed her in the flush that crept up the elegant column of her neck, disappearing beneath the pristine fabric of her blouse.

Casey smirked to herself, shifting in her chair as she let the moment replay in her head, stretching it out, savoring it. Did Alex know how obvious she was? How her body betrayed her before her mind could slam the walls back into place? She could practically feel it — the tension radiating off Alex in waves, thick and suffocating, simmering just beneath the surface. And fuck, it made Casey ache.

Because it wasn’t just about Alex staring at her. It was about why she had stared. What she had been thinking as she stood there, frozen, her pulse visibly ticking at her throat, her pupils dilating just enough for Casey to know.

She bet Alex was sitting at her desk right now, pretending to work, probably failing at it just as miserably as Casey was. Fighting it. Denying it. But feeling it all the same. That heat, that distraction, that unbearable, throbbing awareness. Was she fidgeting in her chair, shifting in some vain attempt to relieve the tension coiled so tightly between her thighs? Was she squeezing them together beneath her desk, frustrated, annoyed, wet? Fuck, she had to be wet.

Casey’s breath came just a little shallower as the thought took root, dark and insistent, unfurling inside her like a slow burn. Was she ruining those prim, lace-trimmed panties of hers? Was she biting her lip, frustrated with herself for even letting the thought cross her mind? Did she hate how easily Casey had gotten under her skin? How easily she had infiltrated that meticulously guarded space in Alex’s mind that she so rarely let anyone into?

Casey could picture it so clearly, and the image was deliciously sinful. Alex, usually so refined, so put-together, now shifting uncomfortably in her seat, her jaw locked in defiance, hating the way her body responded despite her best efforts to ignore it. Hating the way her thighs pressed together, the way her breath came just a fraction too quick when she thought about Casey straddling that bike.

Or better yet — straddling her.

Casey’s fingers tightened around the pen in her grasp, heat licking at her spine as the fantasy played out in stunning, vivid detail. Alex beneath her, spread out, wrecked, desperate, those perfect fucking hands clutching at Casey’s leather jacket, trying to hold onto something — anything — as Casey ground down against her, slow and torturous, just enough friction to drive her insane but not enough to let her fall apart. Alex gasping, whimpering, all that control slipping through her fingers, reduced to nothing but a trembling, writhing mess under Casey’s touch.

Casey swallowed hard, pressing her thighs together as the ache between them became impossible to ignore. She let her head tip back against the chair, exhaling sharply, a wicked smirk curling at her lips.

Alex had no idea what she was in for.

And the best part? Casey had all the time in the world to make her break.

Hours had passed, but Alex was still feeling the aftershocks of her own distraction. No amount of cold water, deep breaths, or mindless paperwork had rid her of the heat that had settled in her bones, nor the way her body still felt on edge, humming with frustration. She had spent the better part of the day burying herself in casework, but every so often, her mind betrayed her — drifting back to her, to Casey, to the way she looked that morning, to the scent of leather and warm skin and the unmistakable gleam in her eye when she caught Alex staring.

It was infuriating.

And it was so damn arousing.

Which was why, when a sharp knock echoed through her office, Alex inhaled deeply before speaking, forcing her voice into something steady. “Come in.”

The door swung open, and there she was.

Casey strode in like she owned the room, confidence rolling off her in waves, her leather jacket slung casually over her arm now, leaving her in just a crisp button-down and those obnoxiously tight jeans. The faintest trace of the morning’s ride still clung to her — that scent, subtle yet potent, lingering in the air as she shut the door behind her.

Alex schooled her face into its usual unreadable mask, straightening in her chair as she eyed the file in Casey’s hand. “I assume you’re here about the Carter deposition.”

Casey smirked. “Among other things.”

Alex’s jaw tightened. She hated how easily Casey could get under her skin, how she managed to make even the most mundane conversations feel like a game.

Casey took her time crossing the room, flipping open the file as she approached Alex’s desk, but instead of standing across from her like a normal, respectable colleague, she leaned in, placing her palms flat against the polished wood as she hovered just a little too close. Close enough that Alex could see the fine details of her freckles, the way her lashes framed her sharp, knowing gaze. Close enough that the warmth of her body felt like a phantom touch against Alex’s skin.

“I went through the witness transcripts,” Casey murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “You really went for the jugular in that cross-examination, didn’t you?”

Alex arched a brow, keeping her hands neatly folded in front of her despite the way her fingers itched to fidget. “I was thorough.”

Casey hummed, tilting her head slightly. “You were ruthless.” A slow smirk curled her lips. “It was hot.”

Alex’s breath caught for half a second, but she masked it expertly, narrowing her eyes in warning. “Novak.”

“What?” Casey shrugged, feigning innocence as she straightened just slightly — but not before she let her fingers trail along the edge of Alex’s desk, slow and deliberate. “I’m just saying, I’d hate to be on the receiving end of your cross-examination. I’d fold like a house of cards under that sharp tongue of yours.”

Alex’s stomach clenched. Jesus Christ.

She was going to kill her.

Instead, she exhaled slowly, reaching for the file Casey had conveniently neglected to actually hand over. But just as her fingers grazed the edge of it, Casey pulled it back, a teasing glint in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Casey mused, flipping a page absentmindedly, as if she wasn’t actively torturing Alex. “I think I’d enjoy watching you try to break me.”

Alex clenched her jaw so tightly it ached.

“Give me the file, Casey.”

Casey grinned, but rather than obeying, she finally placed it on the desk, only to follow it with the slow, deliberate brush of her fingertips against Alex’s wrist as she withdrew her hand.

Alex’s entire body tensed.

The touch was fleeting, barely there, but it left a trail of heat in its wake, a ghost of contact that burned like a brand. Casey knew exactly what she was doing.

Alex prided herself on control — on her ability to maintain composure even in the most high-pressure situations. But Casey loved testing that control, loved poking and prodding at the cracks just to see how far she could push before Alex snapped.

And right now, she was dangerously close.

Alex inhaled sharply, willing her voice to remain even. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

Casey chuckled, sliding her hands into the front pockets of her jeans as she rocked back on her heels. “I take plenty of things seriously. I just happen to enjoy watching you squirm.”

“I’m not squirming,” Alex said flatly.

Casey’s gaze flickered down to her hands, which were definitely gripping the arms of her chair just a little too tightly.

“Mmm.” Casey’s lips twitched. “Sure.”

Alex wanted to wipe that smirk off her face.

But she also wanted to kiss it off her face.

And that was the real problem.

For a long, unbearable moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt thick, charged, something unspoken crackling between them like static electricity.

Then, Casey exhaled, slow and deliberate, as she took a step back. “Anyway,” she said breezily, as if she hadn’t just spent the last five minutes thoroughly unraveling Alex’s composure. “I should let you get back to work.”

Alex should have felt relief at that.

She didn’t.

She felt deprived.

As Casey turned toward the door, Alex forced herself to straighten, grasping for some semblance of normalcy. “Novak.”

Casey glanced back over her shoulder, eyebrow arched.

Alex hesitated for half a second too long, then cleared her throat. “Don’t forget to update the witness list before tomorrow’s meeting.”

Casey grinned, knowing — just fucking knowing — that wasn’t what Alex had really wanted to say.

“Of course, Counselor.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving Alex to sit in the aftermath of her own frustration, pulse hammering, legs pressed a little too tightly together beneath her desk.

She was going to lose her goddamn mind.

Alex stepped out of the District Attorney’s office. The air had cooled slightly, carrying with it the crisp scent of autumn, though it did little to ease the heat still simmering beneath her skin. The weight of the day lingered on her shoulders, an undercurrent of tension woven between the relentless hours of legal battles, yet none of it compared to the throbbing awareness that had been pulsing through her body ever since her encounter with Casey earlier that afternoon.

No amount of logic, no carefully structured argument in her mind, had been able to erase the memory of the way Casey had leaned into her, the way her voice had dripped with that infuriating, teasing confidence, nor the way Alex’s own body had betrayed her with every glance, every fleeting touch.

She should have just gone home.

She intended to go home — had been telling herself that with each purposeful stride toward the parking lot, her heels clicking against the pavement in an even, decisive rhythm. But then she saw her.

Casey stood by her motorcycle, the sleek black machine humming softly beneath her as she swung one long, toned leg over the seat, settling into place with effortless ease. A leather jacket hung casually over her frame, sleeves pushed up just enough to expose the sinewy strength of her forearms, while a helmet dangled loosely from her fingers.

She radiated a kind of unruly confidence that was both reckless and irresistible, the kind that made Alex’s stomach tighten involuntarily, made her breath hitch before she could remind herself to stay unaffected.

And then Casey turned her head, locking eyes with her across the lot, and smirked.

Alex should have ignored it.

Should have kept walking, pretended not to notice the way Casey’s lips curled just so, the way her green eyes glowed with amusement and something darker or something undeniable. She should have known better than to give Casey the satisfaction of a reaction.

But she didn’t.

Instead, as if pulled by some invisible force, she found herself moving forward, the distance between them closing with each step.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Alex muttered as she came to a stop just in front of her, one brow arched in a perfect display of controlled irritation.

Casey grinned, leaning forward slightly against the handlebars, elbows resting in an infuriatingly casual manner as she drank Alex in with slow, deliberate appreciation. “I hear that a lot. Usually right before someone kisses me.”

Alex scoffed, rolling her eyes even as heat prickled beneath her skin. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I don’t have to,” Casey said smoothly, voice rich with confidence. She shifted slightly, fingers drumming against the leather of her seat. “Not when it’s so obvious you want me.”

Alex’s breath caught for half a second — barely perceptible, but Casey noticed. Of course she noticed.

The smirk widened.

Before Alex could formulate a sharp retort, before she could remind Casey exactly who wasn’t in control here, she felt fingers wrap around her wrist — firm, unyielding — and then she was being pulled forward, the space between them disappearing in an instant.

Her breath barely had time to leave her lips before Casey’s mouth was on hers.

Heat exploded through her body.

The kiss was searing, all-consuming, the kind that stripped away any pretense of restraint. It was a battle and a surrender all at once, and god help her, she didn’t know which one she was losing.

Casey kissed her like she’d been waiting all day. Like she’d been starving for it, and the hunger was infectious, igniting something molten inside Alex’s veins. There was nothing careful about it, nothing hesitant or uncertain. It was firm, deliberate, a declaration in itself.

Alex knew she should stop.

Should put a hand against Casey’s chest and push her away, remind them both where the line was. But her body refused to obey. Instead, her fingers curled into Casey’s leather jacket, gripping tightly as a low, pleased sound rumbled from the back of Casey’s throat. The vibration of it sent a sharp pulse of arousal straight between Alex’s thighs, making her knees feel dangerously weak.

When Casey finally pulled back, their lips still brushed together, warm and parted, breaths mingling in the cool evening air.

“You gonna keep pretending you don’t want this?” Casey murmured, voice rough, teasing.

Alex swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her throat, in her wrists, in the space between them where her body still ached for more.

She didn’t answer.

Didn’t trust herself to.

Casey’s fingers brushed against her hip, a featherlight touch that burned straight through the layers of her resolve. “Come back to mine.”

Alex exhaled, slow and measured, still trying to reassemble the shattered pieces of her self-control. “Casey…”

“You want to,” Casey murmured, voice lower now, rich and coaxing. “You know you do.” She let her fingers trail just slightly along the fabric of Alex’s blouse, a ghost of a touch that sent another wave of heat curling through her. “So stop fighting it.”

Alex squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, inhaling deeply, willing herself to make the rational choice.

But her body already knew the answer.

“…Fine.”

Casey’s smirk was victorious, but Alex barely had time to process it before she was turning, reaching into her bag for her car keys. “I’ll meet you th—”

“Oh, no, no.”

A firm grip on her wrist stopped her in her tracks.

Alex blinked, turning back with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me?”

Casey tilted her head toward the motorcycle, the damn smirk never leaving her lips. “You’re not taking your car.”

Alex let out a dry laugh, incredulous. “That’s not happening.”

Casey arched a brow. “Why not?”

“Because I value my life.”

Casey rolled her eyes. “You really think I’d let anything happen to you?”

The sincerity in her tone made something flicker inside Alex’s chest, but she ignored it, standing firm. “I don’t do motorcycles.”

Casey stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Come on, Counselor. Live a little.”

Alex’s breath hitched, her resolve crumbling by the second.

Casey smirked knowingly. “Unless you like the idea of driving yourself home while still tasting me on your lips. While thinking about how I’ll be waiting for you when you get there…” She let her fingers graze Alex’s wrist, barely there but enough to send a full-body shiver racing down her spine. “Wondering what I’ll do to you the second you walk through my door.”

A fresh, unbearable ache pulsed between Alex’s thighs, her body betraying her with humiliating ease.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered.

“And yet,” Casey leaned in, lips grazing her ear, “you’re still standing here.”

Alex let out a frustrated exhale, grabbed the helmet from Casey’s outstretched hand, and jammed it onto her head.

Casey grinned. “Atta girl.”

She swung onto the bike with a practiced ease, and Alex hesitated for only a second before following suit.

Then Casey revved the engine.

Alex instinctively clung to her, arms wrapping tightly around her waist as the bike rumbled beneath them, powerful and unforgiving.

Casey laughed. “See? Not so bad.”

Alex huffed against her shoulder. “Shut up and drive.”

And with that, they were gone, speeding into the night, into the inevitable.

The engine roared beneath them, a deep, throaty sound that vibrated through Alex’s body as Casey twisted the throttle, sending them surging forward into the night. The rush of air hit her immediately, sharp and unrelenting, forcing her to tighten her grip around Casey’s waist. The leather of Casey’s jacket was warm beneath her fingers, supple and well-worn, and as the bike gained speed, Alex found herself pressing closer, molding herself against Casey’s back as if it were the only thing keeping her anchored.

The city blurred around them, neon lights flashing in streaks of color, the hum of late-night traffic fading beneath the steady growl of the motorcycle. The scent of asphalt and gasoline mixed with the faint, lingering traces of Casey’s perfume — something deep and musky, tinged with just a hint of vanilla. It was intoxicating. Alex barely noticed the buildings flying past, barely registered the distant honks of impatient drivers or the occasional whistle from some passerby who had undoubtedly noticed the way she clung to Casey like her life depended on it.

Maybe it did.

Maybe it wasn’t just the speed that made her pulse race, wasn’t just the sharp wind that made her breath hitch. It was this — the heat of Casey’s body beneath her hands, the slow roll of her muscles beneath the leather, the way her hair whipped against Alex’s cheek whenever they rounded a turn. It was the fact that, despite every argument, despite every logical reason to keep her distance, she was here, on the back of Casey’s bike, pressing herself into her like she belonged there.

And God help her, it felt like she did.

Casey tilted her head slightly, her voice carrying over the rush of wind. “Hold on tight, Counselor.”

Alex barely had time to react before Casey leaned into the next curve, taking the turn with a reckless sort of grace that sent Alex’s stomach lurching and her thighs tightening around Casey’s hips.

She let out a sharp breath, her fingers digging in instinctively. “Jesus Christ, Novak—”

Casey laughed, the sound low and rich, vibrating against Alex’s chest where they were pressed together. “Relax, Alex. I’ve got you.”

Alex wanted to snap back, wanted to say something cutting and dry and unaffected, but the words tangled in her throat because the truth was — Casey did have her. Every muscle, every movement, every flick of her wrist against the clutch was controlled, effortless, like she’d been born knowing how to handle something this powerful, something dangerous.

Like she knew exactly how to handle Alex.

That thought sent a fresh, unwanted pulse of heat straight between her thighs, and she cursed herself for it. This wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place. And yet—

Every bump in the road, every shift of Casey’s weight beneath her, sent a fresh jolt of sensation through her body. The rumbling vibrations of the bike coursed through her legs, up her spine, settling low in her stomach with a slow, unbearable ache. And it wasn’t just the thrill of the ride — it was her. It was the way Casey smelled, the way her body moved with such casual dominance, the way her abs tensed beneath Alex’s fingertips as they hit a particularly sharp turn.

Fucking hell.

This was ridiculous. She was a grown woman, a professional, and yet here she was, aroused by the simple act of being close to Casey Novak on a damn motorcycle.

She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply, trying to will away the tension in her body. But it only made things worse. Because with every inhale, she breathed her in — warm skin, leather, faint traces of cigarette smoke and something undeniably Casey.

The worst part was, Casey knew.

She could feel it in the way Casey’s hand briefly left the throttle, settling over one of Alex’s where it rested against her stomach. The touch was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a shiver down Alex’s spine.

“See?” Casey called over her shoulder. “Told you you’d like it.”

Alex bit back a curse. “I never said that.”

Casey chuckled. “You didn’t have to.”

The arrogance in her tone was infuriating, and yet — God help her — it only made Alex’s grip tighten.

It wasn’t a long ride, but by the time they reached Casey’s apartment, Alex felt like she’d been wound so tight she might snap. The moment the bike rolled to a stop, she exhaled shakily, hands still gripping Casey’s waist as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go.

Casey was still for a beat, like she was waiting for something, before finally turning her head just enough to smirk.

“Admit it, counselor,” she murmured, voice low and teasing. “You loved every second of that.”

Alex swallowed hard, her fingers twitching against Casey’s jacket. She should say something sharp, something dismissive. But her body told a different story.

And Casey knew.

So instead of answering, Alex did the only thing she could — she swung off the bike, pulled off the helmet, and marched toward the entrance of Casey’s apartment without another word.

She didn’t need to look back to know Casey was grinning.

As soon as the door to Casey’s apartment clicked shut, the tension that had been simmering between them all day ignited into something undeniable. Neither of them hesitated — there was no need for words, no second-guessing, just the sheer inevitability of this moment finally unraveling.

Alex barely had time to take in her surroundings before Casey was in front of her, pressing in close, her body radiating warmth and something deeper — something raw. The leather jacket she had been wearing earlier was long gone, discarded somewhere along the way, leaving her in a fitted black top that clung to her frame. Alex reached for the hem, slipping her fingers beneath it, savoring the way Casey’s muscles tensed beneath her touch.

Casey, however, had other ideas. She smirked, pushing Alex back until the blonde’s spine met the nearest wall, her hands bracketing either side of her head. “You’ve been staring all day,” Casey murmured, her breath warm against Alex’s lips. “Was it the bike? Or was it me?”

Alex swallowed hard, her body betraying her as a delicious shiver ran down her spine. “You already know the answer,” she admitted, her voice softer than she intended.

Casey hummed in satisfaction, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against Alex’s jaw, then down the length of her throat. She didn’t stop, didn’t rush — just let her lips and tongue explore, savoring the way Alex trembled beneath her. Hands wandered, bodies pressed closer, and suddenly, there was nothing between them but heat and friction.

Clothes were shed in a slow, tantalizing dance — fingers grazing over bare skin, lips trailing over exposed curves. Alex took her time, reveling in every inch of Casey as she kissed down her collarbone, her shoulders, the swell of her breasts, and lower. When she finally dropped to her knees, Casey’s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in Alex’s blonde waves as anticipation crackled between them like a live wire.

Alex looked up, her lips brushing against the soft skin of Casey’s hip. “You look good like this,” she murmured, her voice laced with something dark and hungry.

Casey smirked, but it faltered slightly when Alex slid her hands up the back of her thighs, gripping firmly as she lifted one of Casey’s legs over her shoulder. The shift in position had Casey gasping, her balance entirely at Alex’s mercy, but she wasn’t about to protest. Not when Alex’s mouth was hovering exactly where she wanted it, teasing, promising.

Alex let her lips ghost over the sensitive skin of Casey’s inner thigh, dragging out the moment, savoring the way Casey’s breath stuttered, the way her grip in Alex’s hair tightened just slightly. “Tell me,” Alex murmured, her voice sinfully low. “Is this what you wanted?”

Casey let out a shaky breath, her head falling back against the wall as she exhaled, “Alex—”

Alex didn’t let her finish.

Her mouth met Casey’s soaked, aching cunt, any pretense of control shattered. Casey gasped, her fingers tightening in blonde waves as Alex’s tongue flicked teasingly over her clit before dragging down, tracing the slick heat of her folds. Alex hummed against her, the vibration sending a delicious jolt up Casey’s spine, her back arching involuntarily against the wall.

“Fuck, Alex,” Casey moaned, her voice breathy, desperate, her hips pressing forward in search of more.

Alex smirked against her, gripping Casey’s thigh tighter as she hooked it more securely over her shoulder, spreading her open. “You’re soaking,” she murmured, dragging her tongue up slowly, savoring the way Casey’s wetness coated her lips, her chin. “Did you get this wet just thinking about me?”

Casey let out a sharp, shuddering breath, her fingers gripping Alex’s hair with just enough force to make the blonde groan. “Shut up and—ahh—” Her words cut off as Alex’s tongue pressed flat against her clit, circling in slow, deliberate strokes that had her trembling.

Alex didn’t rush. She wanted to savor this, wanted to hear Casey come undone because of her. She licked, sucked, teased, her tongue flicking over the swollen bundle of nerves before dipping lower, gathering the dripping wetness and spreading it, making it messier, filthier. The taste of Casey was intoxicating, slick and hot on her tongue, and Alex couldn’t get enough. She moaned against her, the sound sending vibrations straight through Casey’s core, making her legs shake.

Casey’s breath hitched, her hips rolling forward, chasing more friction. Alex let her, pressing her harder against the wall, pinning her there as she buried her tongue deeper, fucking her with slow, deliberate strokes. The wet, obscene sounds filled the air, mixing with Casey’s breathless moans, her curses, the way she gasped Alex’s name like a plea.

Alex could feel it — feel the way Casey’s thighs tensed, the way her breathing turned ragged, her grip in Alex’s hair growing almost punishing. “That’s it,” Alex murmured against her, voice husky, her tongue circling Casey’s clit before closing her lips around it and sucking hard.

Casey choked out a desperate moan, her whole body tensing, her climax slamming into her with devastating force. She trembled, gasping as Alex worked her through it, her tongue lapping up every last drop of her release, not stopping until Casey was shaking from overstimulation, her juices coating Alex’s lips, her chin, her cheeks.

Alex pulled back just enough to look up at her, her mouth glistening with Casey’s wetness, her blue eyes dark with hunger. She licked her lips, deliberately slow, savoring every drop. “You taste so fucking good,” she murmured, her voice thick with arousal.

Casey let out a breathless laugh, still trying to catch her breath, her head spinning. “You’re—” She swallowed hard, looking down at Alex, completely wrecked. “You’re such a fucking menace.”

Alex smirked. “And you love it.”

Casey barely gave herself a moment to recover before she was tugging Alex up by the wrist, guiding her up, up, up until she was straddling Casey’s lap, her knees pressing into the couch on either side of Casey’s thighs. Their mouths crashed together, all teeth and tongue and raw, unfiltered hunger. Casey could taste herself on Alex’s lips, her own arousal smeared across the blonde’s chin, and it made her groan, deep and filthy.

But she wasn’t done yet. Not even close.

She pulled back, her grip firm as she cupped Alex’s jaw, forcing her to meet her gaze. “You were such a good little prosecutor down there,” she murmured, her lips brushing against Alex’s, teasing but not giving her another kiss just yet. “So thorough. So relentless.” Her fingers trailed down Alex’s flushed throat, over the delicate collarbone, down to her breasts. She cupped one in her palm, rolling a hardened nipple between her fingers, pinching just enough to make Alex suck in a sharp breath. “But now it’s my turn.”

Alex barely had a second to react before Casey was shifting, flipping their positions effortlessly until Alex was on her back, sprawled across the couch, her legs parted in invitation. Casey wasted no time settling between them, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the expanse of Alex’s body — over the delicate dip of her sternum, the curve of her ribs, the swell of her breasts. She took her time there, lips wrapping around one taut nipple, sucking it into her mouth, flicking her tongue over it until Alex was arching into her, moaning softly.

“I could build a whole damn case about how much you want this,” Casey murmured against her skin, kissing lower, dragging her tongue over the curve of Alex’s stomach. Her fingers ghosted over the inside of Alex’s thighs, teasing, barely there. “The evidence is overwhelming, Cabot. You’re so wet, I could make an entire opening argument about it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Alex breathed, her head falling back against the couch, her nails digging into Casey’s shoulders.

Casey smirked against her hipbone, pressing her teeth there before finally dragging her tongue down, down, down. “Oh no, sweetheart, not even He can help you now.”

And then she was there, slipping two fingers through the slick, dripping heat of Alex’s cunt, gathering the wetness, spreading it, making a mess of her. “Fuck, you’re soaking,” she whispered, her voice low, wrecked, filled with something almost reverent.

Alex whimpered, her hips rolling up, chasing more friction, but Casey pulled back just enough to deny her.

“Patience,” Casey murmured, pressing a kiss against the inside of Alex’s thigh. “All good things come to those who wait, isn’t that what they say?”

Alex let out a shaky breath, her hands twisting in the couch cushions, trying to ground herself. “Casey, I swear to—”

Before she could finish, Casey plunged her fingers inside her, deep and slow, curling just right.

Alex’s breath hitched, her back arching, a broken moan spilling from her lips.

“That’s better,” Casey said smugly, pumping her fingers in and out at an agonizing pace. “You should really let me cross-examine you more often.”

Alex barely managed a glare before Casey’s mouth joined her fingers, her tongue flicking over her clit, sucking it into her mouth with just the right amount of pressure.

Alex shattered.

Her thighs tensed around Casey’s head, her hands flying to those auburn locks, pulling, guiding, grounding herself as waves of pleasure rolled through her. Casey didn’t let up, fucking her with her fingers, her tongue working in tandem, drawing out every last bit of her pleasure until Alex was writhing beneath her, her breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps.

Casey groaned against her, licking her through it, letting Alex grind against her mouth, riding the high until she had nothing left to give.

When Alex finally came down, her body boneless, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths, Casey pulled back just enough to look up at her. Her lips were glistening, her chin coated in Alex’s arousal, and she licked it up slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving Alex’s.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” Casey murmured, pressing a final kiss against the inside of Alex’s thigh before making her way back up her body, settling between her legs.

Alex’s eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted, her entire body still humming with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “If you keep talking like that,” she rasped, voice wrecked, “I might have to hold you in contempt.”

Casey grinned, pressing a teasing kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Oh, baby,” she whispered, her breath warm against Alex’s lips, “go ahead and try.”

And then

Casey didn’t waste any time. She was still drunk on the taste of Alex, still high on the wrecked, breathless moans she had pulled from those perfect lips. But she wanted more — needed more. She wanted to feel every inch of Alex against her, skin to skin, slick against slick, until there was nothing left between them but heat and pleasure.

She shifted, her hands gripping Alex’s hips, guiding her as she aligned their bodies together, their legs tangling, their wet, throbbing cunts pressing against each other in a slow, teasing grind. The first brush of their slick folds sent a sharp jolt through both of them, a shockwave of pleasure that had Alex gasping and Casey groaning deep in her throat.

“Fuck,” Casey hissed, her fingers tightening against Alex’s waist as she rolled her hips, dragging her clit against Alex’s, feeling the slippery heat, the perfect friction that made her head spin. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Alex could only moan in response, her fingers digging into Casey’s shoulders, nails leaving faint crescent marks against flushed skin. Her body was still sensitive, every nerve ending alight, but the pleasure was too intoxicating, too overwhelming to stop. She moved with Casey, their bodies perfectly in sync, grinding together in a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent sparks of electricity shooting down her spine.

Casey’s lips hovered just above Alex’s, their breaths mingling, hot and uneven. “Look at you,” she murmured, watching the way Alex’s face contorted with pleasure, the way her mouth parted in desperate little gasps. “So goddamn beautiful like this. So messy for me.”

Alex whimpered, her head falling back against the couch, her body arching as the friction intensified. “Casey,” she breathed, her voice wrecked, her thighs trembling as the pleasure coiled tight in her belly once again.

Casey smirked, leaning down to capture Alex’s lips in a deep, consuming kiss, swallowing every little sound, every little gasp. She rolled her hips harder, faster, their swollen, aching clits rubbing together in a delicious friction that had both of them spiraling.

Their bodies were slick with sweat, their movements becoming desperate, erratic. The wet, filthy sound of their slick folds grinding together filled the room, each movement sending a fresh wave of heat crashing through them. Casey could feel it building, the pressure mounting with every roll of their hips, every delicious glide of Alex’s cunt against hers.

“Cum for me, baby,” Casey whispered against Alex’s lips, her voice low, coaxing, sinful. “Come with me.”

Alex’s breath hitched, her body tensing as the pleasure reached its peak, sharp and unbearable. Her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her thighs clenching around Casey, her back arching, her mouth falling open in a silent, shattered moan.

Casey wasn’t far behind. The moment she felt Alex come undone, the moment she felt the warm, wet slickness coat her even more, she let go, her own climax ripping through her with an intensity that left her shaking.

They rode it out together, their bodies trembling, their moans mingling in the air, until the pleasure slowly ebbed, leaving them breathless and tangled in each other’s arms.

Casey collapsed against Alex, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses against her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, her breath still uneven.

“Fuck,” Alex finally managed, her fingers threading through Casey’s damp auburn hair.

Casey chuckled, nuzzling against her. “That’s one way to put it.”

Alex let out a soft, breathless laugh, her body still buzzing, still warm and pliant. “You should really come with a warning label.”

Casey smirked, biting lightly at Alex’s jaw. “Oh, sweetheart, you knew exactly what you were getting into.”

Alex murmured something incoherent, still catching her breath, her body humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. She could feel the thin sheen of sweat clinging to her skin, cooling in the aftermath, mixing with the slick wetness between her thighs. Every inch of her felt heavy, sated, but also unbearably sensitive.

She shifted slightly beneath Casey, feeling the stickiness between them, the way their bodies had practically melted into each other. Her fingers absently traced along Casey’s spine, feeling the faint tremors still lingering there.

“Shower…?” Alex finally managed, her voice hoarse, wrecked from the way Casey had unraveled her.

Casey hummed against her skin, pressing a lazy kiss to Alex’s collarbone. “Mmm. You offering to wash my back, counselor?”

Alex let out a breathy laugh, her nails scraping lightly against Casey’s scalp as she pushed her hair back. “I think we both need it,” she said, shifting again, grimacing slightly at how damp and sticky their bodies were.

Casey lifted her head, smirking as she propped herself up on one elbow. “Can’t handle being messy with me?”

Alex arched a brow, feigning indifference even as her body betrayed her, still tingling, still aching. “I don’t mind getting messy. I just prefer to do it somewhere I won’t be stuck to the furniture afterward.”

Casey grinned, leaning in to nip at Alex’s lower lip before pulling away, sitting up with an exaggerated stretch. “Fair enough. Come on, then.” She slid off the couch, reaching down to grab Alex’s hand, tugging her up with a bit more force than necessary, making her stumble against Casey’s body.

Alex let out a soft, surprised breath, her hands landing against Casey’s bare waist, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. Their bodies pressed together, slick and warm, the moment stretching between them.

Casey’s eyes darkened slightly, her fingers tightening around Alex’s wrist. “You sure you want to clean up so soon?” she murmured, voice low, teasing. “I could think of a few more ways to get you even dirtier.”

Alex exhaled sharply, something flickering in her gaze before she forced herself to roll her eyes, stepping back even though every nerve in her body protested. “Shower. Now.”

Casey laughed, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Lead the way, Your Honor.”

Alex shot her a warning glare but turned toward the bathroom, her legs still a little unsteady as she walked. Casey followed close behind, smirking to herself, already planning exactly how long they’d actually stay clean once they were under the water.