Disclaimer: I do not own Law & Order SVU, Oz, or its characters.

A/N: A Chris Keller/Olivia Benson/Elliot Stabler fic, that all started from a suggestion from IRANT, or Lauren. Or perv, as I call her. Okay, so I know Chris died. Yeah, yeah. In my world, he still lives, and him and Elliot are the same age.

She is his butterfly.

That's the exact reason he has a tattoo of one on his thigh, dangerously close to the length of his penis that is already starting to bulge at the thought of her.

Thoughts that lead back to earlier today, when she was sliced with a knife. It wasn't the first time it had happened, but it still made his heart beat at a pace that should be considered a health hazard. The suspect cut her arm, requiring her to strip off the fleece turtleneck she had adorned that day. He'd smiled when she took off it off, then stopped breathing. Her skin was flawless except for the angry, possessive hickey's she adorned on her neck and chest.

His grin spread, knowing who's mouth had caused them.

Letting his eyes drift down to her stomach, he set his eyes on reason number two why she is his butterfly. Along her hip is a butterfly, the twin to his tattoo is etched into her beautiful olive skin. His cock had twitched then, knowing she had endured the pain for the pride. A beautiful, little butterfly that represented their love. He was still married when he received the tattoo, and lied to Kathy, telling him he felt like something new. But really, he felt like making something permanent because she was already permanently in his heart. So why not permanently mark her into his skin?

They love each other. It's no secret. That's the exact reason she was bleeding and not him. She has jumped on the perp before he could do anything to Elliot. He had flailed his arms, cutting Olivia's bicep. She had punched him repeatedly until Elliot pulled her off and told her it was okay.

And in the irony of it all, she had received butterfly stitches.

But now they sit together in a local bar close to the apartment they now share. An apartment that has been bought from the money they earned with their blood, sweat and tears. More hers than his, because of his departure from SVU. An apartment they bought after he showed up at her door and begged her to end his misery, because he couldn't deal with not seeing her anymore, so much that he had fought with Kathy for the last time, moved out and drown his sorrows in a bottle for what felt like months. He couldn't keep himself together without seeing her.

She had been distraught, too caught up in her own pain to really even notice he was there. But she snapped out of it when he placed his gun in her hands and told her to end his life. No Catholic guilt, just her placing the gun to his head and ending his life quickly and painlessly. She had dropped the gun and ran into his arms, crying harder then she had ever let herself over him.

"If I ended your life, I'd have to end mine. Do you want that?" Olivia had told him, pulling back to look at him. He hadn't shaved in days, maybe even a few weeks. The rough texture of his face was sexy to her, but it wasn't him. He was clean-cut, all american, Elliot Stabler. He got angry, telling her if they had really been best friends for all of these years, she'd do it and never look back. She yelled and screamed at him, telling him that his family was there for him and love him unconditionally.

She had fought him, trying to deny her feelings for him once again.

He fought harder, which only pissed her off more. She had tackled him to the ground, but he flipped them over and pinned her hands above her head. She thrashed, screaming for him to let go of her. He then kissed her, hard and possessively, taking ownership of her lips and face like he had wanted to do for so long. It was useless for her to fight back, no matter how much she wanted to, she wanted to kiss him more.

She gave him her body that night, and he had gladly taken it, kissing every inch of skin, loving every part of her.

Today he had been on his way to their shared apartment to surprise her. He had a dozen roses in his hand and completely absorbed himself in thoughts of her, when he heard her growl and it was all a blur from there.

A hand on his thigh brings him back to reality. He looks at the hand, then let's his eyes trail up the arm and body attached to it. He looks into her gleaming brown eyes and smiles. She makes him happier then he's been in a long time. Maybe even forever. He loves her so much. He'll do anything for her. Including tonight. A fantasy they've both had. Something that on a daily basis they see ruins lives, but they're stronger. They love each other unconditionally, and are adrenaline junkies. They don't know what they're looking for. Just someone. Just someone to test their love to see if it's really true. Truthfully, they know it is. So they just really want to show it off.

He crashes his lips onto hers, loving that she almost automatically deepens the kiss as she pulls him closer by his shirt. His right hand knots in her silky hair, the other wrapping around her slim waist, tugging her body out of her spot in the booth they sit in and into his lap. She grinds her hips into his, feeling him almost instantly hard for her. Only her.

They don't care so much that they're in a bar, but they do care about their lung capacity. Olivia pulls back, resting her cheek against his. He watches as she grabs her beer from the table, downing the remainders before kissing him again.

"Damn," Elliot whispers in her ear, chuckling breathlessly.

She stiffens and gasps, pulling away from him with concerned eyes. He cups her face and tries to see what's wrong, when she looks over to the bar. His eyes follow hers, and he too, gasps. There sat a man, clad in a white wife beater and faded jeans, who looks exactly like Elliot. The man stares at the both of them, raising an eyebrow cockily. Olivia gasps again, seeing the arrogance Elliot carries with him, and also the hint of lust in his eyes.

It's the way Elliot looked at her in their first year of being partners.

It's sexy. Even in the shock of finding a man in New York, the same city they live in, who looks identical to the only man she truly allowed herself to love, she can feel the blood pounding and the rapid pool growing between her legs. The man turns his body towards them, staring at Elliot for a long moment. His eyes drift to Olivia, slowly looking over every inch of her body that he can see. Her hands curl into Elliot's chest as she clutches his shirt. He brushes her hair back and kisses her neck, suckling the skin in his mouth while she continues to stare at Elliot's doppleganger. His gaze turns harsh, and Olivia can feel the jealousy rolling off of him.

It's erotic.

It's sexy.

The man hops off the bar stool and slowly makes his way over to them. Elliot slips Olivia from his lap, placing her beside him. The man slides into the booth, sitting so close to Olivia their thighs touch. A hand touches her face, pulling it away from Elliot. She turns then, looking straight into the eyes of her lovers could-be twin. Her eyes drop to his lips, which are turned in an arrogant smile.

"Chris," He whispers, grabbing Olivia's hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles.

"Olivia," She says in a whisper as she tries to control her breathing. This isn't Elliot, because the real one is on the other side of her, brushing her hair back from her neck.

"Kiss him."

She looks down at the table in shock, plainly giving up on her attempts to slow her rapid breathing. Her gaze lifts up to Chris' face, then up to the serious, blue eyes that are so familiar, yet so new. She takes a shaking hand and places it on his face, mesmerized by the feel of his skin. It was completely different from Elliot's. Yet the same. She doesn't even know this Chris' last name, and yet she feels like she's known him for the twelve years she's known Elliot. So that's why she leans in and kisses him.

His kiss is different. It isn't passionate and full of feeling and love that Elliot's has. His kiss is full of lust and something else she can't quite put her finger on. But it sends chills up her spine, making her shiver as her hand drops from his face to cup his neck and bring him closer. He puts his hand on her thigh to test her boundaries, kneading the skin there. His touch was almost rough, yet gentle. She can feel Elliot watching them, and she's surprised he's actually following through with it.

Chris is so mysterious.

Maybe even mythical.

That would explain everything.

He takes his lips from hers and presses them to her neck, keeping close while she faces Elliot. There's a hint of jealousy in his eyes, but something new is filling them. Maybe it's curiosity. Maybe it's wonder. Her skin feels on fire. Elliot's lips are on hers, Chris' lips on her neck, their hands all over her body.

Possessing her. Worshipping her.

Elliot trails a hand down her thigh and squeezes the junction between her kneecap and quad. This was their code. Whenever they were somewhere public and they needed each other, they'd squeeze that spot, and leave. Only this time, he squeezes twice.

He wants Chris to come home with them.

"Chris," Olivia moans, scratching her nails down his chest. He pulls back from her, narrowing his eyes. A smile spreads and he nods at her knowingly.

Her breath catches in her throat. He can read her just like Elliot can.

They leave slowly, in no rush to get back to their apartment. They kiss in the back of a cab. Elliot kissing her softly and possessively, making sure Olivia knows who loves her. Chris makes sure she knows he doesn't feel anything real for her. It's a one time thing.

Because his heart still belongs to someone else.

"Well? You two just going to stand there?"

She sighs, her naked body sinking further into the mattress. Hearing clothes rustling and hitting the floor, she lifts her hands up and flicks her hair out from underneath her, fanning it out onto the pillow beneath her. A body pounces on her, nearly knocking the wind out of her. Panic rises. They both look the same naked. But the panic calms as she sees the tattoo on his thigh.

"Hi Butterfly," Elliot says, his nickname for her coming out in a Brooklyn accent, something that only happens when he's hot and bothered. He presses his lips to hers feverishly, taking her hands in his and placing them above her head.

Her heart squeezes.

Her heart is hammering in her ears just like it had the first night they had made love. He squeezes her hands, which also reminds her of their first night. His lips are mashing against hers just as passionately. Every time, it's like the first time. Over and over. It just gets better.

She feels lips and hands caressing her feet, and knows that this time around will be so different.

Because she has her butterfly, and his twin for tonight.

A/N: What do you think? Should this continue?