Olivia woke up to a gentle shake. She had fallen asleep on the couch last night. When she opened her eyes she saw it was her partner standing over her, laughing at her sleepy disorientation.

"Hey Liv. I've been paging you for an hour and I got worried, so I stopped by. Looks like someone was just getting their beauty sleep."

"It's a Saturday…" she said groggily. "What's going on?"

"We got a new lead on the Central Park murder. Cragen wants us to check it out ASAP. Get up; I'll make you some tea."

He walked over to her kitchen and put some water on the stove. When he turned around, she had sat up, revealing that she was only wearing a sexy lace bra and some loose fitting pajama pants.

"You have someone over last night or something?" He asked, only halfway laughing.

She made no motion to cover herself up—they had seen each other in much more vulnerable conditions. "Funny joke El, I haven't been able to go out in weeks! Sometimes a girl just likes to dress up."

"Yeah, or that girl hasn't done laundry in two weeks," he said, gesturing at the pile in the corner of the room.

He walked over and sat in the chair next to her, letting out a sigh. She looked at him and knew there was no lead on the Central Park case. Something was up.

"Really, El, why are you here? You should at least bring me food next time you drop by unexpectedly."

He laughed a little, but his face went serious.

"Elliot?"

"It's nothing. Just wanted to check on you."

"Elliot."

"I….I moved out. Like, two weeks ago."

"You did what? You and Kathy…?"

"Yeah, we're separated. It was just…you know."

"The job."

"It's always the job," he grunted.

"It's always the job…" she repeated, giving him a knowing shrug. She knew he didn't want to discuss the subject anymore, and frankly, she didn't either.

"It's just you and me, babe." He joked. They laughed, and the tea kettle whistled. Olivia got up to get it, and only then could Elliot really see how sexy her outfit was. Her black lace bra was a little too small, and man, that cleavage of hers. He couldn't deny he had noticed it before—who could resist that? Her pajama pants hung low around her waist so that her hipbones and muscles lead into a gentle v. He turned away from her nearly naked form, out of respect, and wondered if she was lying about having someone over last night—it wouldn't have been the first time. Keep work and pleasure separate, they both always said, but what was she supposed to do when there was no pleasure, ever? He didn't blame her for spending a little time on herself.

She read aloud to him an article in the paper about a perp they had caught. He turned back around to face her, and it all hit him—Olivia Benson. She exuded this confidence and strength that only he could match, and there was just something about her that was screaming for recognition. He did not think, he did not process, all he did was take in this woman. And then, without an emotion passing through his body except courage and love, he stood up, strode across the room, turned her head from the newspaper, and kissed her. All before she even had time to set down her tea.

Olivia was not one to be overtaken, her knees did not grow weak, instead her body grew stronger with this pure, primal passion. Neither of them thought, felt, reasoned—the physical intensity drove out every word in her mind. They didn't need to communicate through words, after being partners for so long. It was them, Elliot and Olivia: she could predict his every movement before he made it.

Their lips separated, both out of breath, and they made eye contact. It was all instinctual, all something that had been waiting to happen since the first day on the job, and she turned to stride into the bedroom, holding his hand behind her. He turned her around just as she was opening the door and kissed her again overcome with some desire he had never known. Her hands hungrily unbuttoned his shirt and damn—those abs. He lifted her onto the bed, removing the bra to set her perfectly rounded breasts free. She was not being dominated, and she was not overcome by the strength of his body, for they were perfectly matched in power both emotionally and physically. She removed her own pants, and then his, their lips never breaking contact. He was some combination of firey passion and cold brawn she had always seen but never known. And then, with their breathing escalating, he broke the kiss to stare into her eyes as he entered her, so strong and warm. Her mouth was slightly open, a face he knew she only gave at her most intense moments. The connection of the gaze was so familiar, so powerful, that they knew there was nothing else to compete, they both knew that the other person was whole. The bed rocked harder and faster but they never once broke that gaze until finally Olivia closed her eyes in a wave of pleasure. He lay down on top of her naked body, panting.

"Elliot," she moaned the first word that had been spoken the entire time. He lifted his head to look at her but did not say anything—there were no words for what both had just experienced.

He rolled onto his back, taking his weight off of her, but she wanted that body near her again. She rested her body on his chest, their skin tingling with sweat and warmth, his arm reaching around to hold her. It was then, and only then, when thoughts entered their mind, but neither person gave voice to their words. They rested in this state of power and peace for a few minutes, until Olivia pulled her body completely onto his. She kissed his lips again, the sensation of simple and complete and powerful love still lingering. He was a man, solid and commanding; she was a woman, passionate and firm. She looked in his eyes to confirm with his that they were ready for round two.