Disclaimer: I do not own Law & Order: SVU or it's characters.
A/N: A new one.
There's something about Olivia in a bathing suit, that does crazy things to him. He turns, two martini's in hand, and watches her shift her legs, rubbing them together against the towel she lays on, as she raises her hands over her head. Her long, tanned fingers dig into the sand, pushing the warm grains into her palms.
In the midst of her actions, he catches a glimpse of the gold and diamond ring on her finger. The one he put there, just days ago. Olivia arches her neck back and smiles back at him, taking her hands out from beneath the sand. He wishes she would have stayed like that, so he could lay down beside her and run his fingers over the edges of her bikini top. Her skin is the softest thing he's felt. Her body on his is indescribable.
It's funny, he used to say to himself, "I'll marry her one day." But now, he finds himself saying, "I can marry her over and over again, every day for the rest of our lives."
She moves, sitting up and crossing her legs. Her breasts are contained by the deep purple material, and he loves how her figure has been gently marked by age. It makes her all the more beautiful, to him. The white scar along her elbow attracts his eyes when she reaches for her drink, but he dismisses it and looks at the way she bites her lip to keep from smiling, although she fails. Olivia sips her drink while he settles behind her, spreading his legs in order for her to scoot back and lay against him.
It's perfect, like this. It's getting late and the air around them is still warm enough that Elliot doesn't require a shirt, and his wife doesn't require much of anything on either. His free hand rests on her hip, while the other brings the martini he finished making just minutes ago to his lips. When the liquid settles in his stomach, he thinks about the way her head lies on his chest now, and has almost every night for the past six months.
Now that he really thinks about it, he doesn't know if he could sleep without the weight of her head on him, or the feeling of her left arm draped over his torso.
Sometimes he finds himself wanting to tell her these inanimate thoughts, but it comes out as something different. Tonight, on this beach, his words release in Italian. "Tu sei la donna più bella che abbia mai visto." "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
He expects her to turn around and give him a warning look, because she has always hated compliments. Before their wedding, however, he had told her she was stunning. Elliot had automatically prepared for her to roll her eyes and tell him to stop doing that, but instead she smiled at him, a blush creeping up her cheeks. At that moment, he knew he was one step closer to making her believe she truly is beautiful. She has every right to know the truth. "Grazie, bambino." "Thank you, baby."
It's the way they laugh together, the sound coming out slow and gradual, just like this trip has proceeded so far.
A real honeymoon, he ponders. Throughout the now thirteen years they've known each other, he's not really sure when he started seeing her as more of a wife, and less of just a partner. He welcomes that feeling, however. When she sets her drink down in the sand, a few long sips missing from it, he pulls the hair on the left side of her head back and over her shoulder. He revels in the softness of her, that even after six months of being close to her, having the permission to freely touch her. Somehow, she gave him this ability and he gladly took it. In return, Elliot gave her the same thing.
She touches him, now. Her fingers dance along the marred skin of his knee caps, scraped from the time he was a boy to about two weeks ago, when they hit the floorboards of the house they bought together. He hadn't been paying attention at the time, too busy pulling Olivia's legs onto his shoulders, too busy burying his face between her muscled thighs.
The corners of his mouth twitch at the thought. He brushes his mouth over the material of her bikini strap, and onto the skin of her right shoulder. Somewhere in the middle of their movements, she leans her head back on his shoulder, and moves her hand up to his thigh, over the material of his swimming trunks.
There's something beautiful about taking it slow, in his mind. He's all for fast and hard, especially if Olivia's legs are around his waist while he pushes into her, but he likes the idea of wasting time in a damn good way. Through every touch and caress, he loves to take care of her. He realizes now, that his main goal in having sex is to make Olivia feel good. His own pleasure doesn't matter, to him at least. Maybe it's a sign he's getting older. But as he'll get older with his new wife, he doesn't really care about aging, either.
His nearly full drink sits in the sand now, and both of his hands are on her, gliding along the expansions of her waist, her belly, her ribcage. Her mouth presses against the stubbly skin of his jaw, and he can't help the smile that stretches across his face.
Because he's happy.
Before his relationship with Olivia began, he doesn't know if he was truly happy in life. He's got five wonderful children who have brought him great joy over the years, along with sorrow, but there was just a piece he was missing. When he kissed Olivia for the first time, he knew that void was slowly starting to fill.
She shifts, turning around to face him in his lap. His legs close together as her legs spread and settle on the outsides of his thighs. The gentle swaying of her hips sobers him, fixes him on her. She's a vision, on top of him. He closes his eyes and let's his lips find hers. She chuckles and it comes out partially as a moan, because she no longer holds back on letting him know what she likes, as she used to.
Before.
He thinks of their life prior to him getting down on one knee as almost another life.
Olivia's tongue dips into his mouth and he knows now that she can feel his hardness pressing into her inner thigh. With her rocking in his lap, writhing almost, he's glad they picked a room on the water, with lots of privacy.
It's gorgeous in the Republic of Fiji. The water is warm, the days are hot. In his mind, it's exactly what they needed. He pulls away, planting his lips on her neck. His fingers flex as he holds her back, bringing her impossibly closer. When he whispers into her skin, she breathes a heavy, shaky sigh. "I want you..." It's all it takes for her to tip all of her weight onto him, urging him to fall back onto the towel.
When he does, her lips are on him, all over neck, and he believes he's the luckiest man alive. Maybe it's cliche of him to think so, but he can't really see anyone being more content than he is in this moment. She moves slow, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth as she runs her fingers over his thick arms, down to his hands. Their fingers move and twine together, and she rises up, her body moving with his. She sits up straight, the thin material of his shorts and her bottoms separating what he doesn't really see as a race to get to. He's fine, lying here, raising his hips languidly, pressing his erection against her heated core.
He's not blinded by love. If he's anything, he's more awakened by their new marriage.
Three days ago, Olivia Benson became Olivia Stabler. She wore a white summer dress that blew in the small amount of wind that occurred, and he wore a button down white t-shirt and slacks he eventually rolled up to avoid wet sand ruining them. He was happy with their decision to elope, because when the priest gave him permission, he ravaged her mouth with abandon and momentarily forgot that they had company. They had been breathless, and headed straight back to the hotel to consummate their marriage.
Even then, they had taken their time with each other. At least they had tried. The marriage wasn't about fucking and fighting, but rather about the companionship that he's sworn was there from the minute they met. No one person is dominant over the other, although if she asked him of anything, he would do it. She hasn't asked for much over the years. He understands her independence. He always has.
He smiles because three days and thirteen years ago, he was partnered with Olivia. All those years ago, she had been a rookie and he'd been in that seat not too long before. She had used her wit to break the ice between them, and he'll be forever thankful that his then partner, now wife, has an amazing sense of humor.
Although they'd had many downs along the way, he can only think of one word when he thinks of their relationship.
Bliss.
A/N: Just a one shot, or would you like more Bliss?