Casey “you Deserve More Than A Maybe” Novak And Alexandra “you’re The One Thing I Will Always

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.

woah there March

neon joe werewolf hunter: 1.01 - made ya look

now if you’ll excuse me, i have to go prepare a delicious dinner for my current lover.

holy i want this treatment so bad

hopefully i don’t have work, i just want my wife☹️

how am I supposed to live my life after reading this?

You are my Sunshine | Alex Cabot x Casey Novak

Casey and Alex are married and trying to hold onto a sense of normal. But when Alex begins to withdraw, Casey’s world begins to crack at the edges. What starts as subtle changes spirals into something irreversible: a devastating diagnosis Alex has kept secret for months.

Hurt/ Comfort, angst without a happy ending major character death... 9k wc

AO3 link !

Please take care while reading. Contains themes of love, loss, and terminal illness that may be triggering for some.

The mornings were always the quietest part of their day. Before court filings and legal memos, before the clang of the city found its way through their windows, before the world asked too much of either of them. Casey woke first, as usual, padding barefoot across the kitchen floor in the faded yellow hoodie Alex always threatened to steal. The coffee machine gurgled to life as she pulled two mugs from the cabinet, setting one in its place on the counter without looking. She didn’t need to. Alex always used the dark blue one with the chip in the handle.

Alex appeared a few minutes later, wrapped in her robe, hair damp from the shower. There was a small hitch in her step as she crossed the room, subtle enough that someone else might have missed it. But Casey noticed. She always noticed. 

“You okay?” she asked, pouring coffee into the chipped mug. Alex nodded and smiled, brushing a kiss to Casey’s cheek. 

“Just slept funny,” she said, reaching for the sugar like she always did, three teaspoons even though she swore she liked it black.

It wasn’t the first time Alex had brushed something off lately. Two weeks ago, she’d come home late from arraignment and winced when she bent to take off her heels. Last weekend, she sat through an entire dinner with their friends gripping the edge of her chair like she was in pain. It was subtle at first, missed steps on the stairs, the way she rubbed her knee absently, how she started favoring her right leg when she thought no one was looking. She hadn’t complained, hadn’t said a word about it, but Casey could feel something was off.

Later that morning, as Casey prepped her opening statement for the day’s trial, she heard Alex moving around upstairs. Closet doors opened, drawers shut, footsteps muffled on the carpet. Then, silence. When Casey went to check on her, Alex was sitting on the edge of their bed, fully dressed, staring down at the floor like she’d forgotten what she’d come into the room to do. She looked up, smiled like nothing was wrong, and said she had a meeting uptown. Casey didn’t press her. She never wanted to be the person who pushed too hard.

Days passed, and the pain seemed to worsen. Alex began carrying icy hot packets in her purse and started taking ibuprofen with her coffee in the mornings. Casey offered to call her friend, a sports medicine doctor, just to rule out a nerve issue. Alex brushed her off with a laugh, saying it was probably from sitting too long at the office. “I’m not twenty-five anymore,” she said, trying to make it sound like a joke. Casey just smiled.

Alex started working later, coming home exhausted and quiet. She curled into bed without changing out of her suit. She stopped reading at night and started canceling plans. Casey took over groceries, errands, and the cat’s vet appointments. Small things, but they added up. And when she asked if something was wrong, Alex always gave the same answer. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s nothing.”

She started coughing. Dry at first, occasional, barely more than a throat clear at night that Alex dismissed as seasonal allergies. The windows were open, and the city air was never kind to her. Casey offered to grab some Claritin from the pharmacy, but Alex said she already had some at work. She smiled when she said it, then turned her head to cough again.

The cough didn’t go away. It deepened, hollow and sharp, like it came from somewhere deeper than her lungs. Then came the night sweats—first once, then twice, then almost every night. Casey would wake to find Alex’s side of the bed soaked through, her body twisted in damp sheets, hair clinging to her temples. The first time it happened, Casey reached for her in a panic, only for Alex to murmur something unintelligible and roll away, too exhausted to care. The second time, Alex got up in the middle of the night and changed into dry clothes without saying anything. She barely opened her eyes. The third time, Casey woke to find Alex sitting on the edge of the bed in silence, wrapped in a towel, staring at nothing. Her hands were shaking. She said she was cold, but her skin was burning.

Alex stopped eating breakfast. Then lunch. Then dinner. Food lost its appeal, she said. She felt bloated, nauseous, just not hungry. But her clothes started hanging differently, and the shadows under her eyes deepened. She took to drinking protein shakes in the morning, which she left half-finished on the counter. Casey noticed, of course, but Alex was always a little forgetful when she was under stress, and stress came with the job. That’s what Casey told herself as she rinsed out another barely touched glass and watched Alex sleep through an entire Saturday afternoon.

The stomach aches came next. Dull, low, always brushed off with a wince and a hand wave. “I ate too fast” became her new catchphrase, even when she hadn’t eaten at all. She started avoiding the stairs when she could. Casey once found her doubled over in the bathroom, her face pale and her arms gripping the tub so hard her knuckles were white. “It’s just a stomach bug,” she’d said breathlessly, swallowing back. She smiled through it like it didn’t feel like her body was turning traitor beneath her skin.

They stopped going out. No more Sunday brunches or wine on the balcony or long walks through Prospect Park. Casey chalked it up to work fatigue. Trials were draining and Alex had never been great about balancing rest with ambition. But it was more than that. Alex was fading, and Casey could feel it like a draft slipping through the walls of their home. She tried to tell herself she was imagining it. She tried to remember that Alex had always been tough, private, a little closed off when things got overwhelming. But some mornings, when Casey rolled over and looked at her wife’s sleeping face, drenched in sweat, hair limp against her forehead, arms curled protectively around herself, she felt an unshakable fear rising in her throat.

Still, Alex smiled. She kissed Casey goodbye in the mornings, still said “I love you” before bed. She still made coffee, even if she didn’t drink it. She still wore lipstick when she went to court, even if her skin was grayer than usual beneath the blush. Whatever was wrong, she wasn’t ready to admit it. 

Not to Casey. Not even to herself.

It was the missed appointment that finally tipped the balance. Insignificant on its own, but jarring in its inconsistency. Alex never missed doctor’s appointments. She kept her calendar obsessively organized, color-coded down to court dates, press briefings, and annual checkups. So when Casey came home early one afternoon to find the reminder card from Alex’s pcp still pinned to the fridge with the old magnet from their London trip untouched, something inside her tightened. The date had already passed.

She didn’t bring it up right away. Instead, she moved quietly, watching. It was easier than she wanted to admit. Alex seemed to live in half-light lately, shadows under her eyes, shoulders always tight. Her suits hung more loosely on her frame than they had just a month before. The tailored lines that once hugged her body now hung limp, and Casey noticed the way she avoided mirrors, changing in the bathroom with the door shut instead of pulling on her pajamas while chatting about her day.

One night, while Alex was in the shower, Casey went looking for toothpaste in the downstairs guest bathroom and found the drawer stuck. When she finally got it open, her eyes caught on a small zippered pouch tucked beneath a pile of travel-size shampoo bottles. Inside were three orange pill bottles. Two for anti-nausea medication, one for painkillers. All were recent. None had been mentioned. All were prescribed under the same reduced initials. A.C.

Casey stood there for a long time, one hand still gripping the edge of the drawer, her breath catching. The sound of the shower running upstairs felt impossibly far away. She closed the drawer slowly, gently, as if being too loud might set something irreversible in motion.

That night, they ate takeout on the couch. Pad Thai and spring rolls. Alex pushed her food around for a while before declaring she wasn’t hungry. Casey leaned in just enough to brush a hand over her arm. 

“You’ve barely touched anything this week,” she said softly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Alex looked at her like she had rehearsed the answer a hundred times. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine, Case. Really. Work’s just been… a lot lately. I’m not sleeping well. But I’ll catch up this weekend. Promise.”

She leaned over and kissed Casey’s temple before setting her plate down, untouched. She curled up under the blanket like her bones ached. Casey let it go for the moment. But as she sat in the kitchen rinsing off two mostly full plates of food, she stared down at the sink and felt the kind of quiet that had nothing to do with peace settle around her chest like a weight.

That night, Alex kissed her longer than usual before falling asleep, like she was apologizing for something she hadn’t said yet.

***

They were supposed to meet Olivia and Elliot for brunch downtown, something casual and long overdue. Alex had seemed more alert that morning. Less pale. more herself. She even smiled when Casey handed her coffee, a real one this time, not the protein shake she barely touched anymore. 

“Maybe I’ll even order pancakes,” she giggled, tugging her hair into a low ponytail. Her eyes still looked tired, but her voice had that dry lilt Casey had always loved. For a moment, it was easy to believe they were fine.

They never made it out the door.

Casey had gone to grab her coat from the closet when she heard a crash. It wasn’t loud, just a muffled thud, the sound of something soft hitting wood. She turned on instinct, heart hammering, and sprinted back into the bedroom.

Alex was on the floor, crumpled beside the dresser, one hand braced against the hardwood, the other clutching her side. Her breathing was shallow, rapid. Her face had gone ghostly white, and sweat clung to her forehead.

“Alex—Jesus—Alex.” Casey was on the floor in seconds, hands on her, trying to lift her upright, trying to make sense of what was happening. Alex winced and shook her head, mouthing something Casey couldn’t make out. 

“You’re burning up,” Casey whispered, reaching to touch her cheek, and Alex flinched.

“I’m fine,” Alex murmured hoarsely, barely above a whisper.

“No, you’re not. You’re not fine.” Her voice cracked. “You just collapsed, Alex.”

Alex wouldn’t meet her eyes. She tried to sit up, limbs trembling with the effort, and Casey steadied her, heart pounding. “Let me call an ambulance—please—”

“No,” Alex said, stronger this time. “Not… not yet. Just help me up.”

Casey wanted to fight her. She wanted to scream, to shake her and demand answers right there on the floor. But something about the way Alex gripped her arm like it was the only thing tethering her to the room made her swallow the panic rising in her throat.

She helped Alex to bed and got her water. Turned off the bedroom light even though it was barely noon. Sat on the edge of the mattress while Alex curled in on herself, one arm still cradling her side like something inside her was splintering.

She didn’t go to brunch. She texted Olivia a vague excuse, “Alex’s not feeling well, sorry, next weekend?” and then sat alone in the kitchen with the lights off and her untouched coffee cooling in her hands.

When Alex finally fell asleep, Casey slipped into the home office. She didn’t have a plan. Just a sick feeling that there was more to find.

The file drawer was unlocked. Inside, behind the tax folders and old case summaries, was a manila envelope marked insurance . Casey pulled it out, hands trembling. Inside were medical receipts. Imaging center bills. Oncology appointment summaries. There were names of specialists she didn’t recognize and diagnostic codes she didn’t understand. One word kept repeating: sarcoma .

Beneath it, she found more pill bottles. Stronger ones. Not hidden this time, just filed away like facts in a case she hadn’t been allowed to read. The paperwork wasn’t complete, no diagnosis letter, no treatment plan, but there was enough to shift the ground under her feet.

The paperwork was meticulous, of course. It always was with Alex. Everything labeled, tabbed, arranged by date. If Casey hadn’t been sick with fear, she might’ve found it impressive—might’ve made some dry comment about her wife’s compulsive organization habits. But now, as she sat cross-legged on the floor, documents spread around her like broken glass, it felt like sifting through a stranger’s life. Cold. Distant. Prepared.The receipts blurred together, dates and numbers meaningless against the thudding drumbeat of cancer cancer cancer .

She pulled out another folder—no markings at first glance. Just plain cream paper, thicker than the rest. She almost passed it over. Almost didn’t open it. But something stopped her. Maybe it was the weight of it, heavier than it should’ve been. Or maybe it was instinct.

Her thumb slipped under the flap. Inside, everything was neatly stacked. A manila envelope with Casey written across the front in familiar, looping cursive. Another labeled Mom and Dad . Both were sealed, untouched. Beneath them, clipped between two notarized forms, was a third document, printed, dated, signed.

Her eyes caught the words immediately. Do Not Resuscitate Order. She didn’t need to read the fine print. The name Alexandra Cabot leapt off the page in black ink, sharp and deliberate. The signature dated three weeks ago. Notarized. Witnessed. No room for doubt. No room for hope.

She read it once, then again, slower, her eyes refusing to blink as if keeping them open might stop the floor from disintegrating beneath her. The paper was cold in her hands.

Casey didn’t open the letters. She couldn’t. Her hands were already trembling, her stomach twisting violently, bile rising in her throat. She pressed a palm to her chest, trying to breathe, trying to ground herself in something, anything , other than the fact that Alex had already written her goodbye. Had done it in secret. Had made the choice to die quietly, alone, without giving Casey the chance to fight for her, with her, next to her.

A quiet moan tore itself from her mouth, somewhere between a sob and a gasp, and she folded forward, her arms hugging the envelopes to her chest like she could will them into nonexistence. Her knees drew up instinctively. She was no longer a prosecutor. No longer composed. No longer anything but a wife who had just learned the person she loved most had chosen not to tell her she was dying.

Casey pressed her palm against her mouth, trying to keep the sob down. The air in the room was thin. The shadows felt deeper, heavier. Every detail—the soft hum of the radiator, the smell of old paper, the faint city noise outside the window—taunted her with the knowledge that the world was still turning when hers had just stopped.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to shake Alex awake and demand the truth, force it out of her with trembling hands and all the grief she’d just been handed. But she didn’t. The weight of what she knew was too massive to move with anger alone.

She put everything back exactly as she found it, down to the creased flap and the placement of the folders. Her hands moved on autopilot. If Alex saw any disturbance, she would retreat deeper. And Casey, God , Casey wasn’t ready to confront her. Not yet. She couldn’t face that calm, practiced voice lying to her again. Not when she knew now what it was hiding.

She walked out of the office in silence. The world tilted. The hallway felt longer than usual.

In the bedroom, Alex was still asleep. Her face looked peaceful in a way that felt cruel now. Her hand lay over her stomach, twitching faintly with every shallow breath. Her face was pale, gaunt. Her wedding band glinted faintly in the afternoon light.

Casey stood in the doorway and watched her.

The apartment was still. Alex was propped up in bed with a book on her lap, glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of her nose. She looked up when Casey entered the room, offered a faint smile. “You didn’t have to do the dishes. I was going to—”

“Don’t,” Casey said.

The word came out too quiet. Not angry. Not even sharp. Just… hollow.

Alex blinked. “Case?”

Casey stepped forward slowly, hands at her sides. They were still trembling. She hadn’t stopped shaking since the office. Her pulse was a dull roar in her ears, and her throat burned with something unspeakable.

“You signed a DNR,” she said flatly. “And wrote me a goodbye letter.”

Alex froze.

“I found it. In the office.” Casey took a breath, shallow and uneven. “Were you planning to just die and leave me a goddamn note?” Her voice cracked at the end, high and raw and unforgiving.

Alex stared at her, color draining from her already pale face. She closed the book slowly, set it on the nightstand like she needed a shield. “You weren’t supposed to find that.”

Casey let out a laugh, bitter and sharp. “Well, I did. Between the painkillers you shoved in a drawer and the oncology bills you buried under tax returns, it was really just a matter of time, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t hiding it to hurt you—”

“Then what were you doing?” Casey’s voice rose again, sharp and desperate. “What is this, Alex? What the hell is this? You were just going to wither away in silence and leave me with a folded piece of paper and a funeral to plan?”

Alex opened her mouth. Closed it. Her hands twisted in the blanket, knuckles white.

Casey stepped closer, eyes burning, lips trembling. “You’re my wife. You don’t get to shut me out of this—of you —because it’s easier than watching me grieve in real time. You don’t get to take that choice from me.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Bullshit.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Casey could feel her heartbeat in her teeth. Her breath caught again, and when she spoke, her voice cracked open completely.

“Do you know what it felt like? Seeing my name on that envelope? Knowing you sat down and wrote out your last words to me without saying a single one out loud?”

Alex’s eyes were glassy now too, but she didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

Casey shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks unchecked. “You were planning to die without me, Alex. You were planning to go through this alone like I’m some—some stranger you used to know.”

“I couldn’t let you watch me disappear.” Alex finally spoke. Her voice was fragile, cracking with every syllable. Her face was buried in her hands, and her body shook as though it was fighting a war it couldn’t win. “I’ve seen what this does to people, Casey. How they break watching someone they love fade away. I couldn’t let you... see me wasting away —see me become a ghost.”

Casey stood there, frozen, her breath coming in ragged bursts. She reached for her, instinctively, but stopped herself just short, as if she feared the touch would burn her. And it would. Everything burned.

Alex’s words continued, trembling, barely more than whispers between sobs.

“I wanted you to remember me before. Before all of this…” Her voice broke entirely. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you watching me go, piece by piece, until there was nothing left. You deserve more than that.”

Casey’s chest heaved with each breath, struggling to keep it together. But Alex’s words shattered her composure completely. She let the tears fall now, no more holding them back. Her heart was breaking, cracking open in ways she hadn’t known were possible.

Alex’s body convulsed with the weight of her sobs. It was ugly, desperate crying, the kind that seemed to come from somewhere deep and unreachable, a place where you couldn’t breathe until you let it all out. Alex’s shoulders shook violently, and she curled into herself as if she could disappear into the mattress.

The sight of her so small and broken pulled something loose in Casey. She moved forward in a rush, desperate, grabbing Alex’s shoulders with both hands, her grip tight enough to anchor them both in the storm of grief.

“No,” Casey choked out. “ No. ” Her voice was fierce, raw, almost unrecognizable. “I married you. I chose this, Alex. Don’t take that away from me.”

Alex flinched at the force of Casey’s words, looking up at her with eyes so full of pain, of guilt, of something far too heavy to hold. And then, she collapsed into Casey’s arms, her sobs coming in violent bursts that shook both of them.

Casey held her tightly, her own body trembling with the weight of everything she hadn’t known—everything Alex had kept hidden from her. “You don’t get to choose for me,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I chose you, and I will stand by you. I will fight for you. But you have to let me, Alex. You have to let me in. ”

Alex’s arms wrapped around Casey’s waist, pulling her in closer as if trying to hold on to the last sliver of herself, of them. Her voice was barely a rasp as she spoke, thick with tears. “I didn’t want to make you suffer.”

“I would have suffered with you, Alex. ” Casey’s words were fierce now, desperate in the quiet room. “I would have stayed. Always. I’m not going anywhere.”

The following morning, she marched into the kitchen with purpose. Alex was sitting at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, her face pale but still holding the calm, composed mask she wore so well. She didn’t look up when Casey entered. She hadn’t looked at her much since the argument, and Casey felt a knot of frustration tighten in her chest.

“You’re going to every treatment from now on,” Casey said, her voice firm, unyielding. “No more hiding this from me. No more pretending.”

Alex blinked, her gaze flickering up at Casey, but there was no response. Just that same tired look: the one that said she was done, the one that said she didn’t want to argue anymore. The one that said she was already bracing for the inevitable.

“I’m coming with you,” Casey repeated, taking a step closer, her words relentless. 

“Every appointment. Every round of chemo. I’m not staying home pretending this isn’t happening. You don’t get to make that choice for me anymore.”

Alex opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, Casey pulled a folder from the counter. The one she had found the night before. Her fingers trembled with a mix of anger and heartbreak, but she didn’t hesitate.

She ripped the paper in half, then in half again, the sound sharp in the quiet room.

The DNR fell to the floor, pieces scattered like the fragile hope she had left. She didn’t look at it. Didn’t need to. Her eyes were fixed on Alex, who had gone completely still, her face frozen in a mixture of shock and helplessness.

Casey’s breath was ragged as she knelt down to gather the torn fragments. She shoved them into a trash can, too forcefully, her hands shaking with rage. “I can’t make you fight this, Alex. But I can be right there beside you while you do. And I won’t let you give up.”

“I signed it because I didn’t want to hurt you,” Alex said, her voice small, quiet. She didn’t raise her eyes, her hands still holding the mug in front of her like some kind of shield.

“You’re not hurting me, Alex,” Casey responded fiercely, her voice breaking at the end, emotion thick in her throat. “You’re making me watch you die while you push me away. You’re making the decision for me before I even have a chance to be there.”

Alex’s eyes closed slowly, and she let out a ragged sigh. “You don’t know what it’s like to—”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.” Casey’s voice was sharp as she cut Alex off. She moved closer, standing right in front of her now. 

“You’re not doing this alone, no matter how hard you try to push me away. I’m not leaving. I’m not giving up on you. And I’m not going to stand by and watch you make decisions about our life like it’s yours to handle on your own.”

The air between them crackled with tension. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Alex finally looked up at her, eyes filled with an exhaustion Casey had never seen before. The weight of what was happening pressed down on her, and for the first time, Casey could see the bone-deep weariness in Alex’s expression. The way the fight had slowly drained from her over the past few weeks. The way she was slowly fading.

But Casey refused to look away. She couldn’t.

“I love you,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, but firm with everything that she had. “I choose you. Let me be there for you, Alex. Let me help carry this with you.”

Alex’s shoulders sagged, her head dropping as if the world had suddenly become too much. “I don’t want you to watch me die.”

“I already am, ” Casey said softly. She knelt in front of Alex, cupping her face with both hands, making Alex meet her eyes. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex closed her eyes, letting out a breath that trembled. The fight had gone out of her for the moment. The DNR was gone. The decision had been made, even if Casey couldn’t override the legal document. The choice had been taken from her, but she knew one thing for sure: she was not letting Alex go through this alone.

***

Alex’s fall had come out of nowhere. One moment, she was standing in the hallway of their apartment, reaching for a book on the top shelf, the next, she was crumpling to the ground, her body slamming against the floor with an awful crack.

Casey had been in the kitchen when it happened, rushing to Alex’s side the moment she heard the sound of her name gasped through labored breaths. She had rushed her to the hospital, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break free from her chest.

But now, a week later, Alex was still in the hospital, her condition only worsening. They had found more complications. The fall had broken her wrist, but the pain in her ribs had grown unbearable as the days wore on. She was coughing more now, and every breath seemed harder than the last. The doctors were working tirelessly to manage her pain and administer the treatments, but the fear that she might not make it through this remained thick in the air.

And Casey? Casey hadn’t left her side. Not for a single moment.

It was late, well past midnight, and the hospital room was quiet, save for the faint beeping of the monitors and the occasional sound of footsteps in the hallway. Alex lay in the hospital bed, her face pale and drawn, eyes closed but clearly awake. Casey sat beside her, her fingers gently tracing the back of Alex’s hand, her thumb brushing over the pulse point in her wrist. The touch was tender, almost reverent. She had learned in these past few weeks how much she took for granted. The little things. The way Alex would make her coffee in the mornings. The way she smiled when she saw Casey walk into the room. The way she would reach for her hand without thinking, just because.

Now, there was only the stillness of the hospital room. Casey’s fingers didn’t leave Alex’s skin. She wouldn’t let them. She couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Alex’s voice broke the silence, rough and weak. Her eyes fluttered open, and she turned her head slowly toward Casey, her expression a mix of exhaustion and vulnerability. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Casey squeezed her hand, her heart aching. “You didn’t scare me. You woke me up, Alex.”

Alex’s eyes softened for a moment, but she quickly turned her face away, trying to hide the tears that threatened to spill. Casey noticed everything, every little shift in her posture, the way Alex’s body clenched when the pain hit, the way she struggled to keep it together, as though it was her responsibility to protect Casey from the inevitable.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Alex whispered, her voice cracking as she spoke. “I don’t know how to ask you to stay... through all of this. It’s too much. I’m too much.”

Casey shook her head, brushing the hair from Alex’s face with the gentleness that had become second nature. “You’re not too much, Alex. You never have been.”

“I’m all broken,” Alex continued, her voice almost a whisper now, as though she was afraid the words would be too heavy to say aloud. “You deserve someone whole.”

“No,” Casey said firmly, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I always have. And I’m not leaving you, not through any of this.”

Alex closed her eyes, the tears slipping free now, hot and silent, slipping down her face. Casey reached up, cupping Alex’s face in both hands, lifting her chin gently. Her heart broke with every tear she saw, but she refused to look away.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Alex whispered, barely audible. “I’m scared, Casey. I’m so scared.”

“I know,” Casey replied, her voice soft but steady. “I’m scared too, but I’m right here. Every second. You don’t have to be scared alone. Not anymore.”

For a long time, they stayed like that. The machines beeped softly, the room bathed in the soft glow of the nightlights. Casey didn’t let go of Alex’s hand. She didn’t dare. She stayed there for every painful moment through the quiet nights and the tests and the treatments, through the quiet moments of terror when Alex’s body seemed to fight back against the disease. But Casey stayed, unwavering, her love for Alex only deepening with each passing second.

The improvement in Alex’s condition was marginal at best. The chemo had begun to show a flicker of progress. Her pain was more manageable, her fever finally broke, but her body still seemed fragile. Fighting. The doctors had said it might be a remission, but everyone in the room knew that even the faintest glimmer of hope was just that. Faint.

Casey had been by Alex’s side through it all, and the weight of the endless days in the hospital, the slow march of time where progress came in incremental steps, had begun to take its toll on her. The quiet hours spent in the sterile, monotonous environment had started to wear down her usual tough exterior. She could feel the cracks beginning to form, the mask of calm she wore starting to fracture.

One night, as she watched Alex sleep, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath, her face pale but softened by the faintest hint of relief, Casey felt a wave of exhaustion crash over her. Her shoulders slumped, the burden of everything pressing down on her, and before she could stop it, a sob broke free from her throat, too sharp and raw to be ignored.

She hadn’t realized she was crying until the tears started to fall, hot and uncontrollable. She had kept so much inside. So much fear, helplessness, the desperation to fix things, to make Alex better, to take away the pain. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything. And it was that realization that shattered her. She curled up on the chair beside Alex’s bed, her body trembling. She wasn’t supposed to break like this. Not in front of Alex. She had been the strong one, the one who had promised Alex she wouldn’t leave, that she would be there through every dark moment. But now, in the quiet of the hospital room, Casey found herself utterly undone.

“Casey?” Alex’s voice was soft but filled with concern. She had woken, her eyes blinking open slowly, her hand reaching out to touch Casey’s shoulder. “Casey, what’s wrong?”

Casey shook her head, the tears falling faster now, her face hidden in her hands as if she could somehow stop the flood. 

“I can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she couldn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t find the words to say what had been pressing on her chest for so long. “I can’t watch you… I can’t watch you die, Alex.”

Alex’s eyes softened, and she slowly shifted in the bed, wincing at the pain, but she pushed through it to sit up, her arms reaching for Casey. “Hey, come here,” she said gently, her voice still hoarse from the illness but steady enough to offer comfort. “Come here, baby.”

Casey hesitated for a moment, the weight of everything keeping her rooted in place, but then she let go of the chair and crawled onto the bed beside Alex. She curled into Alex’s arms like she had so many times before, letting the older woman’s warmth and presence surround her.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Casey clung to her, her face buried in the crook of Alex’s neck, trying to put herself back together. The air between them was thick with unsaid words and unspoken fears. But there was something about the way Alex held her that made everything feel just a little more bearable.

Alex’s hand ran through Casey’s hair, the motion slow and soothing. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Casey,” she whispered, her voice low and comforting. “I’m right here. I promise.”

Casey’s sobs started to quiet, and she pulled back just enough to look at Alex, her red-rimmed eyes filled with an aching sadness. “How can you say that? How can you promise something like that when—”

Alex silenced her with a soft finger to her lips, the smile that appeared on her face only faint but sincere. “Because I know you, and I know we’re not done yet.” She took a deep breath, her eyes locking with Casey’s. “I know it’s not going to be easy. I know I’m sick. But I’m still here. And I’m still fighting. And I’m not doing it without you.”

Casey’s heart twisted in her chest, the weight of Alex’s words both a relief and a fresh wound. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to steady her breathing.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Alex,” Casey whispered. “I don’t know how to keep watching you go through this.”

Alex’s fingers gently caressed the side of Casey’s face, a tender touch that made Casey’s chest tighten. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’re doing this together.”

And then, in a moment that felt almost surreal, Alex began to sing. Her voice was soft, raspy, but there was a warmth in it that made Casey’s breath catch. It was a lullaby from a different time, something simple, something pure. 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” 

Alex’s voice cracked slightly, but she continued, the words slow and steady as she rocked Casey gently in her arms.

Casey closed her eyes, allowing herself to be swept up in the simplicity of the song. The pain didn’t go away, the uncertainty didn’t disappear, but in that moment, all she knew was that they were together.

“You make me happy when skies are gray…” 

Alex continued, her voice a little stronger now, and Casey pressed closer, resting her head against Alex’s chest, letting the warmth of the moment fill her. 

“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you…”

Casey breathed in the words, letting them settle in her heart. There was so much they didn’t know, so much they couldn’t control, but they had this. They had each other.

“And please don’t take my sunshine away…”

When the song ended, there was a long silence between them, but it was different this time. There were no more tears, no more fear—just love.

“I won’t take your sunshine away,” Casey whispered, finally finding her voice again. “I’ll hold on to it for both of us.”

***

Alex’s condition had plateaued. There were moments of progress where her pain was slightly more manageable, the cough less frequent, but there were also the inevitable dips, the days where the weight of the cancer seemed to crush her all over again. The nights were the worst. The pain would surge at odd hours, and she would be left shivering, drenched in sweat, gasping for air, while the machines beeped in the background, relentless and cold.

But through it all, Casey was there. 

Tonight, as the sterile lights of the hospital room flickered dimly in the distance, Alex found herself unable to sleep. Her body was aching, her limbs heavy, and yet there was something more pressing, something beyond the physical pain that gnawed at her.

Casey had fallen asleep in the chair next to the bed, her head resting against the side of Alex’s. The stillness of the room was punctuated only by the quiet hum of the machines and the soft rise and fall of Casey’s breath. Alex watched her, the woman who had been her rock, her everything. She was so still, her face relaxed in sleep, but Alex could see the dark circles under her eyes, the weight of the constant worry that never left her.

Alex felt a pang in her chest. A deep ache that threatened to consume her. She couldn’t stand the thought of Casey carrying this burden, of watching her break under the weight of everything. Slowly, cautiously, Alex reached out, her fingers brushing against Casey’s hand. The touch was enough to stir Casey, who blinked her eyes open slowly, still half-asleep, her face scrunching as she adjusted to the dim light.

“Hey,” Alex murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Casey’s eyes flickered open completely at the sound of Alex’s voice, and she immediately shifted, her hand finding Alex’s. “Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Alex took a moment before answering, unsure how to put it into words. She wasn’t sure if she could explain it, even to herself. There was a weight pressing down on her, an unshakable sense of dread, and yet there was something else that she couldn’t name. She could feel Casey’s presence beside her, and it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

“I’m okay,” Alex finally said, though the words felt hollow in her mouth. She wasn’t okay. She was far from it, but she wasn’t ready to face that just yet.

Casey didn’t press her. Instead, she squeezed Alex’s hand gently and shifted closer, her head now resting on the edge of the bed. The warmth of her body, the closeness of her presence, seemed to calm Alex in a way nothing else could.

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered suddenly, her voice heavy with the weight of things unsaid. “For making you go through all this. For… for putting you in this position.”

Casey’s hand tightened around hers, a firm reassurance that she was there. “Don’t say that,” she murmured softly. “Don’t apologize for being sick, Alex. You didn’t choose this. But I’m choosing to be here with you. Every step of the way.”

“I never wanted to be a burden,” Alex continued, her voice wavering. “I never wanted you to have to watch me fall apart. I don’t want to be the reason you—”

“Don’t,” Casey interrupted, her voice a little rough, but filled with an unwavering strength. “You’re not a burden. And I’m not going anywhere. Do you hear me? I love you, Alex. And I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

Alex’s chest tightened at the words. She didn’t know how to respond. There was nothing she could say that would make the situation better, that would ease the weight of what they were going through. But Casey had a way of making her feel seen, making her feel like she wasn’t alone in the dark.

Casey sat up slightly, her eyes scanning Alex’s face with a tenderness that made Alex’s heart ache. “You’re my sunshine, you know that? Even on the days when it’s hard to find the light. You’re my sunshine.”

Alex let out a soft laugh, the sound weak but genuine. “You’re not supposed to steal my line.”

Casey smiled, brushing her thumb over Alex’s hand in a slow, soothing motion. “I’m allowed to steal it if it’s for you.”

There was a pause before Alex spoke again, her voice quieter now. “I’m so scared, Casey. I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending like everything's okay.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Casey said, her voice unwavering. “You don’t ever have to pretend with me. It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared too. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex’s eyes softened as she looked at Casey, her heart full of gratitude and sorrow all at once. She reached up, brushing the back of her hand against Casey’s cheek, the touch tender, full of emotion.

“Stay with me tonight,” Alex whispered, her voice small, fragile.

Casey’s heart clenched. “Always,” she said, her voice thick with emotion as she climbed into the bed beside Alex. She pulled the covers over them both, holding Alex close, as the two of them lay in the quiet of the night, letting the silence wrap around them like a blanket, offering comfort in its stillness.

The transformation was so sudden, so striking, that neither Alex nor Casey could fully process it at first. One day, Alex had been frail, drained, and sick, her body a shell of what it once was, the weight of her illness taking its toll on her every minute. But the next morning, she woke up feeling different. Stronger. The fog of exhaustion seemed to lift, if only slightly, and with it came a flicker of energy, of hope.

It wasn’t a dramatic shift. There was no miraculous recovery, no sudden return of perfect health. But for the first time in months, Alex could breathe without struggling, could sit up without wincing in pain. The ache in her bones wasn’t gone, but it was less intense. And it was enough.

Casey was the first to notice how Alex seemed to be able to sit up straighter in bed, how her eyes were clearer, less clouded with the constant fatigue. She was still pale, still fragile, but there was a spark in her that had been absent for too long.

“Good morning,” Casey said, her voice soft but full of cautious hope. She leaned down, kissing Alex’s forehead gently. “How do you feel?”

Alex took a moment, feeling the difference in her body. It wasn’t normal, not by any means. But it was better. 

“Better,” she whispered, her voice hushed as though saying it out loud would make it disappear.

Casey’s heart soared at the word, a flutter of hope filling the pit of her stomach. She had been so used to the daily battles, the constant worry, that this sudden shift, albeit small, felt like a gift.

“We’ll take it slow,” Casey said, her voice tender, though she couldn’t completely hide the excitement that was creeping in. “Let’s get you some breakfast. Maybe go outside for a little while. Just a walk, okay?”

Alex nodded slowly, her eyes brightening with something that felt almost like excitement. “I think I can handle that.”

Casey stood up, quickly retrieving a blanket and draping it over Alex’s legs, covering the cold air that still clung to her body. She moved around with a newfound energy as she prepared for what had once seemed like a distant, impossible possibility—a day outside. A day where Alex could feel like herself again, if only for a moment.

It had become a routine in their lives to cling to small joys and moments of light in the midst of the darkness. But today, as Casey wheeled Alex through the park, it felt different. The air was crisp, the sky a pale blue, with the sun shining down just enough to warm their faces. The park was quiet, almost peaceful, with only a few joggers and dog walkers scattered across the walking path.

Alex, who had spent so many days confined to a hospital bed or the apartment they shared, now found herself taking in the world again. The scent of fresh grass, the sound of birds overhead, the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. It was all so alive, so vibrant, and she drank it in as if it was her first taste of life in months. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed the outside world until now.

Casey pushed her wheelchair gently along the winding path, her hands warm on the handles, her gaze occasionally flickering to Alex with a soft smile. It was a smile that Alex had missed, the one that carried warmth and relief instead of worry.

“I missed this,” Alex said softly, her voice barely audible as she looked around at the park, her eyes wide and almost childlike in wonder.

“I missed you like this,” Casey replied, her tone teasing but full of love. “You know, not falling asleep after two bites of food.”

Alex laughed softly, the sound light and true, something that had been absent for far too long. The laughter felt like a promise, a small piece of normalcy returning to their fractured lives. “I don’t think I’ve ever had the energy to complain about breakfast before.”

Casey smiled warmly, leaning down to brush a lock of hair away from Alex’s face. “Well, it’s your turn now. I’m giving you a full breakfast. No more of that hospital food crap.”

Alex rolled her eyes, but there was a glint of amusement in her gaze. “You know, I really missed your over-the-top breakfasts,” she said. “You always made everything feel like a celebration, even when there wasn’t anything to celebrate.”

Casey chuckled softly, pushing the wheelchair until they reached a park bench under the shade of a large oak tree. She stopped and carefully helped Alex out of the chair, guiding her to sit beside her on the bench. Alex was still weak, but the effort of simply being outside seemed to breathe some life back into her. They sat in silence for a moment, just breathing in the tranquility of the park.

Casey unpacked the breakfast she had prepared—a basket full of fresh fruit, scrambled eggs, pancakes, and coffee in a thermos. She handed Alex a plate, watching her closely, her heart in her throat as she waited for Alex’s response.

Alex’s fingers trembled slightly as she took the plate, but she managed a small, contented smile as she looked up at Casey. “I don’t know how you do it,” she whispered. “How you keep holding me up.”

Casey looked at her, her heart swelling with a mixture of love and sorrow. “You don’t have to thank me for this,” she said softly. “You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

Alex’s eyes softened as she looked at Casey, her heart full in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. “I’ve always loved you,” Alex said, her voice breaking slightly with the weight of the words. “Even when I couldn’t say it, even when I was too afraid to let myself feel it, I always loved you.”

Casey’s breath hitched in her throat. She reached for Alex’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “I know. And I’ve always loved you, Alex. Always.”

The moment was quiet, the soft sounds of the park surrounding them, but it was enough. It was a peace they had both desperately needed—a reminder that, even in the midst of all the pain and the uncertainty, they still had each other.

They sat there for a while, eating their breakfast, the world continuing on around them. It wasn’t a perfect moment. It wasn’t the end of their journey, but for the first time in so long, Casey felt like they were on the right path again. They were together. And in that moment, that was all that mattered.

***

author's note

it's about to get really sad. leave now and pretend they live happily ever after. or don't.

***

Months had passed since Alex had shown any signs of improvement. Despite the brief moments of clarity, the hope that had once surged through both of them faded quietly as Alex’s condition worsened. It was slow at first—just a dip in her energy levels, a few more days spent in bed—but then the decline was unmistakable, relentless. The doctors had said there was nothing more they could do. Alex had chosen to stop the treatments, to spend her last days at home, surrounded by the people who loved her most.

Casey had been there through it all. There was no leaving her side, no matter how hard it got. She had kept the promise she made to Alex to stay with her until the end. And now, as the world grew quieter around them, she sat in the dimly lit room, her hand clasped around the letter Alex had written.

The letter was simple, written in Alex’s neat handwriting, the words familiar but now carrying an unbearable weight. It had been left for Casey in case she wasn’t there when Alex’s body finally gave in. Alex had known. She had always known that this day would come, that her body would give out before they could have everything they’d dreamed of. She had written about Casey’s strength, her love, her resilience, but there was one thing Alex couldn’t write: goodbye .

Casey had been waiting for the end, but it hadn’t been any easier than she’d imagined. When Alex’s body finally gave up, when her last breath left her lips, Casey had held her close, whispering the words she hadn’t had a chance to say. But now, with the letter clutched in her shaking hands, she finally let herself cry.

She read it slowly, over and over again, unable to stop the tears from falling.

Casey,

I know I won’t be able to say this to your face, so I’ll say it here. I’m sorry for all the things I didn’t do. For all the things I didn’t say. But mostly, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the person you needed me to be when you needed me the most.

I love you with everything I am. You were my home, my safe place. And I don’t want you to carry this pain for the rest of your life. I need you to go on, Casey. Live. Find peace again, even if it seems impossible right now.

I’ll always be with you. But you have to let me go.

Forever yours,Alex

P.S. don’t spoil the cat too much. 1 treat per day.  

The letter slipped from her hands, the words blurring as her tears hit the paper. Casey’s sobs were raw, uncontrollable. She pressed her face into the pillow where Alex had once laid, inhaling the last remnants of Alex’s scent, but it only made the ache in her chest grow.

Her fingers reached for the delicate chain around her neck, the one that held Alex’s wedding ring. She refused to take it off, no matter how many times people told her she needed to move on, to let go. But she couldn’t. Not when Alex had been everything.

Sobbing into the pillow, Casey couldn’t stop the memories from rushing in. The way Alex had laughed at her ridiculous attempts to cook, the way her smile had been everything, the quiet nights when they had held each other, not needing to speak. It was all gone now.

But even in her grief, even as her heart broke with every breath she took, Casey whispered the words Alex had always loved, the words she had promised Alex they would always share.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray..."

Her voice cracked with the weight of the sorrow, but she kept going, softly singing the song that had been theirs since the beginning, the melody laced with love and loss.

"You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away..."

As Casey’s sobs grew louder, the weight of the loss sinking deeper with every note, she held the ring tighter, the one thing she had left of Alex. And for a moment, just a moment, she could feel her—feel Alex in the air, in the space around her.

But when the song ended, Casey’s heart shattered all over again, the silence of the room deafening in its finality.

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.

Grrrrrhhrhrhr

(Jane’s request: )

Alex hugs Casey from behind while she’s cooking🫠

See people saying that casey novak is overrated and i get so upset. What do you mean ‘overrated’ she’s underrated as hell

wife reveal