Where the Light Is
Rated R
Written for: LJ user lowbatterie
Her Request: 'Need you now' sex, right after Liv comes back from Oregon,
circa season 8 ("Choreographed").
AN: This isn't fluffy and lemony. Not by a long shot. It's gritty, angry, and visceral, and what popped into my head when I read the request prompt. So in fair warning, this is heady, angsty stuff. Oh, and my apologies to all the blondes out there I may offend. Nothing personal. I just didn't like Dani.
Disclaimer: SVU = Dick Wolf me, because if El & Liv were mine, we'd be looking at Chris Meloni's naked ass on HBO instead of NBC :)
Well, it's too late.
Tonight to
drag the past out
into the light.
We're one, but
we're not the same.
Well we
carry each other.Carry each other.
One.
~ One, U2
"I'm his partner."
Uh huh. Looked more like his new toy to her; a brand new blonde haired, blue eyed, long legged perfect little Barbie. Could've at least been a brunette. Yes, seeing a young, perky brunette laughing with him, and trading little touches with him with their heads inches apart wouldn't have burned nearly as bad. But a blonde? Now that fucking hurt. Bastard.
Olivia Benson sat in an ugly ass plaid armchair of the dark little hotel room she had rented for the week because she wasn't quite ready to deal with this new reality just yet, and sipped at her third Amaretto Sour. They had succeeded in making her world fuzzy and muted and just the slightest bit off kilter. Numb, thankfully, were the ever constant why's and what if's and fuck up's of leaving and returning, of Elliot and Gitano, and of Oregon and Porter that she kept on autopilot these days. What the alcohol failed to do however, was quail the tailspin of emotions inside her. Those, they managed to magnify so much so that she just sat there in that ugly ass chair and drank and fed the bitter anger Dani Beck lit inside her with that one simple phrase that turned Olivia's world ass backwards.
"…his partner."
Somewhere, in the back of the small, cheap room, she heard the soft beginnings of the rain the foreboding thunder and lightening storm had been promising for the last half hour or so, and sighed.
"... partner."
Yes, she and Elliot were complicated, FUBAR even, but she never expected to be replaced quite so easily. Not by him. And not with a blonde. Fucking low blow there.
She expected more of him. She expected to mean more to him then that. Fuck that, he told her she meant more to him then that. And then he told her that she couldn't anymore, that he couldn't choose her, wouldn't anymore, and that she had to choose the job or get another partner. And she was pissed. So she left, ran to Computer Crimes, hoping he'd eat his words and choke on them. And when he did, and she watched him slowly and violently self destruct, that hurt even more then his words had. And so she ate it, and came back. Only this time, she was the one who choked and couldn't breathe, so she ran again. Further this time. To the other side of the country. To another life as another person. To Porter. Yea, fucked up couldn't even begin to describe their relationship.
A reverberating pounding sounded through the little room, jarring her from her self pity, and she winced. Thunder? It sounded again, louder with more conviction and she jumped a little. No, definitely not thunder. The door then? Another pounding. Right, the door.
She reluctantly uncurled herself from the armchair, ready to hand whoever had had balls enough to disturb her despite the clear warning dangling off the doorknob, their ass, and threw open the door with a scowl.
Elliot's warm blue eyes were icy as he squinted to make her out in the dark.
"Olivia."
He grunted her name in accusation and she wanted to reply to the venom in his growl, but her words felt too harsh and her tongue too heavy so she just stood there letting her hand drop from the door. His gaze fell with the movement, following her slow hand in blatant hunger as it wrapped protectively around her waist.
Elliot took a single, wide step into the room, forcing her to retreat back a step. The door silently pulled to a close behind him, washing them in darkness.
She wanted to say something, to throw her arms around him and tell him how much she had missed him, and how she called for him and for once he wasn't there, how she went looking for him and instead, found her. And she wanted to hurt him for that. She wanted to strike at him over and over for the longing, and the jealousy, and overwhelming sense of emptiness at seeing him so comfortable and effortless with Dani Beck when they were so strained and disconnected and so… lost. She managed a subtle stunned shock instead.
"You left," Elliot accused, grabbing her by the waist and pivoting them so that she was flush against the door. He held her in place and dropped his head so that his mouth was a whisper from her ear. "You left me." He nuzzled her neck with his nose and her libido jumped into her stomach.
"I…" Olivia wrapped her hands around his arms and tried to push away. She was angry with him, pissed really, yes, fucking pissed actually, but he only tightened his embrace and she trembled. If only she could get a word out, or his damn biceps to budge…but damn if the man wasn't a wall of muscle, a wall which was currently crushing her deliciously in all the right places against the door. And then she felt his tongue lap gently at her pulse point and she shivered. What was she going to say? What did he ask? Damn nuzzling.
"But…" she gasped, futilely trying to argue her point while desperately trying to remember what that point was, as the licking and kissing progressed to sucking and biting.
"Shut up Olivia," he all but growled in her ear before taking the lobe between his lips and teeth.
She closed her eyes and moved her hands beneath his denim jacket and t-shirt, to the taut skin at his hips just below the waistband of his jeans, as he tortured the column of her neck with his teeth and tongue.
He pulled his hands around to her belly and then made a slow path up to her breasts where the zipper of her hooded sweatshirt taunted him. She arched into his grip earning an acerbic chuckle from him. She turned to glare at him and instead caught his tunneled, concentrated gaze as he ripped the zipper down the teeth of sweatshirt exposing the flimsy black gauze of an ancient, well worn bra. His lips slid into a satisfying, cocky grin at the sight of her barely concealed breasts with their eager, welcoming nipples. Her insides contracted in reaction. "Stop that!"
His thumbs stroked maddeningly at the peaks beneath the lacy fabric, pearling them to an absolute torturing ache. "What are you willing to give me Liv?"
"A black eye?"
He stopped midway in shoving the sweatshirt from her body and tilted his head in a scowl. "You don't think you've done enough to me already Liv?"
Yes. "No," she objected as forcefully as she could but swore it came out as a desperate moan despite her best efforts.
He seized her wrists from his hips and held them tight between their bodies, his eyes alternating between passion, pain, and pissed off.
Her breath caught somewhere between an objection and a plea and she closed her eyes tight, dropping her head against his chest. "I can't."
"I want you beneath me Liv," she felt him hiss against her ear.
Oh, she wanted that too. Damn, but oh God, did she want what he was offering her. But… "Why?"
"You don't know, God Liv, you don't know what… how much I…" he trailed off in his explanation and pulled back a bit to catch her hooded gaze. "I need this Liv," he whispered, as he slid his fingers beneath the barrier of her jeans and cotton panties. She pulled away and he pulled her back in place, only unzipping her jeans this time before dipping his fingers back inside.
"Fuck. Elliot."
And that seemed to be all the permission he needed, because in the next instant she was bare ass naked against the hotel door with a leg hitched over his hip while he was still fully dressed, only jeans unzipped and cock out, ramrod stiff, and plunged unceremoniously inside her. She tossed her head back with a satisfied sigh.
He was thick and she was tight, and when he took that first thrust that drove him in deeper, she whimpered from the fevered ache it ignited inside her.
Elliot wasted no time with words or finesse and dove deeper and harder and faster with each stroke, racing to the finish line with absolutely no objection from Olivia as to who should arrive first.
He needed this. She got that. He needed it now and he needed it on his terms. When she left, she took away the last sense of stability in his life and he felt out of control of it. She supposed fucking her senseless in a maddening frenzy against the door was one step in getting it back from her, but, at the moment, didn't really give a shit about his intentions. She needed it too, and needed it now. Pretense be damned.
He pulled her head forward from where she'd thrown it back against the door to meet his lips and she eagerly wrapped her arms around his neck while his found solace around her waist. It was about damn time!
His kisses were bruising and fiery all at once and tasted of a heady mix of Jack Daniels, Coke, and Elliot. Kissing Elliot felt like drowning in every sense of the word. Her head was soggy and spinning with lack of oxygen and an undertone of life threatening danger. He devoured her, and it was all she could do to stay upright for the ride.
"Liv," he groaned, digging fingers into the smooth muscle of her backside for a tighter fit. She was slipping from his grasp.
"I know. I know," she panted, bracing her arms against the door frame while hooking her other leg around his hip for support. "Don't stop."
His answer was lost against her breasts as they were now eye level and he couldn't resist lavishing each perky nipple with a slow, scorching kiss. She came first.
"Ellll-iot" She whimpered through her first blinding orgasm, while raking her nails down his scalp and back. "Sonovabitch."
His response was that infamous cocky grin she adored so much, the one that told the world he was in charge and to fuck the hell off. "Sweetheart, I'm nowhere near finished with you," he growled before pulling out of the confines of her body, then picking her up and moving across the room to the bed. He ripped the comforter from it and draped her long body down the center of the soft white sheets luminous with the rain filtered light of the moon.
Olivia splayed her legs over each side of the narrow, full sized bed and sat up grabbing for the waistband of his jeans. He stepped back into the darkness of the room, just out of her reach. "Lie back Olivia."
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and did as he instructed only failing to draw her legs back with the rest of her. He sucked in a sharp, pained breath. "Damn woman."
She grinned like the Cheshire cat as he made quick work of removing all his clothes and crawling up the mattress to the wide v of her splayed legs, tasting every inch of her skin along the way. "Please…"
He laughed and gave her core one long, solid tasting before continuing sucking and kissing his way up her body, taking pause at her breasts to suck and nip at one nipple while gently thumbing the other. The sensation was piercingly sweet.
"My turn."
Olivia fought a grin as he hooked his elbow under her left knee. She brought the heel of her left foot up and drove it hard against the defined contours of his back urging him back inside her. He obliged and she rose to meet his mouth capturing his reply between her lips. He could take whatever he pleased from her body so long as he conceded her his kisses.
The inky dark of the room and white-washed glow of the night met with them and blended, taking on a whole new dimension as she seared his mouth with deep, hungry kisses that left him panting. Elliot pulled away from her mouth and dropped his forehead against her shoulder. She swallowed a moan as he bit the skin he found there and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him for anchorage.
Desperation heightened to an unbearable arc between them. His need for a release was tangible. She could feel it, feel him, building inside her. "Liv…"
She understood his tentative warning and only tightened her calf around his lower back giving him nowhere to go but further inside her. "Fuck El, just come already."
He did. And when he surged above her and inside her, and reached his free hand between them to toy with the sensitive flesh at the junction of her thighs, she had no choice but to follow, clenching him tight and carving up whatever skin that happened to find its way beneath her nails in the process.
Elliot sought her lips as he slowed and pulled from the warm, wet vise of her body for a slow, probing kiss that managed to melt whatever solid, functioning parts of it she had left.
"Thank you." The words were satisfied and sleepy as he fell beside her and pulled her across his chest in a final bid for dominance. She wrapped her arms around his torso and sighed against his chest. Did this mean they were even now? What really changed then? This was just one more act in an ever increasing battle for control over their partnership, only the scenery had changed from the field to the bedroom. But then, she knew what this was before she even consented to sex with him didn't she?
It was her own fault she supposed. She changed the dynamics of the game when she left with no warning and returned just as suddenly. Elliot was angry, unstable, and on the jumping off point to begin with, she knew better then to expect tender, passionate embraces and professions of undying love from him. No, while leaving opened her eyes and clarified her feelings, it broke him. She had to change the dynamics again.
She traced lazy circles across his hips with her hands, and listened patiently for his heart to calm to a slow, steady, comforting rhythm that indicated deep sleep. She sighed wistfully before extracting herself from his embrace in order to dress and grab the small carry on bag she hadn't bothered unpacking when she checked in.
She dressed swiftly and silently, stopping just shy of zipping up her jeans and sweatshirt, and turned back to the bed where Elliot lay washed in the soft white light of the night. Just one more look.
He was serene and tender and her heart ached at her loss. The tranquility and contentment of his face in post sex slumber made her wish she could stay there. That they could stay there, where the light is, where they were easy and resilient, and not forced and strained, and always on the defense, and where he held her because she was his whole world instead of punishing her because she somehow became so without his consent.
Olivia kissed the tips of her fingers and traced the air inches above his lips. "El."
His hand shot out, encircling her wrist and pulling her back toward the bed.
"Don't even think about it Sweetheart," he growled, never opening his eyes while hers widen in shock and glisten with moisture and the gentle light from the dying storm.
His grip loosens, his pulling softening to a gentle tug, and her mouth twists into a delighted smirk. He always did have the better reflexes.