Sound and Fury
It's been two years since his divorce was finalized. A year and a half since Kathy started dating, and six months since he started sleeping with his partner.
He fell in love with her years ago. He doesn't remember exactly when, as he doesn't care to think about the timing of it all. He was happily married at the time. That much he knows. It's probably why he's felt so guilty all these years; thinking about her while making love to his wife. Sometimes he'd even think of her while he was stroking himself—a palm curled around his rigid cock as he imagined what it would be like to find his release while pulsing deep within her. Oddly enough, those were the times that were harder to reconcile in his mind. He couldn't help his thoughts wandering off while he pumped his hips; laying sweaty and somewhat sated underneath the woman he'd shared a bed and 20 years with. These things happen. But the times when he's by himself, he thinks, these are what make him realize, this life he's created for himself, this marriage—it's a façade at best. Yes, Elliot Stabler had begun to feel as if everything was, as Shakespeare put it, "All sound and fury, signifying nothing."
Yet despite all the time he'd spent fantasizing about her, nothing could have prepared him for that balmy Thursday evening in late-September. They were on a stakeout. The week had been unseasonably warm-an Indian summer hovering in the beginning hues of an early evening sunset. Tired, somewhat defeated and packing it in for the evening, the conversation was mild and mindless. All he really remembers is her smile.
She so rarely smiles, he thinks. But when she does, it lights up her whole face and changes the air around her. When she smiles-really smiles-he feels it in his soul. It's what made him fall for her so many years ago. And this very play of light across her face was no exception on that autumn evening: activating the launch sequence that led him claim her in the final way he'd yet to.
He reached across the expanse of the tan bench seat in the old sedan, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, stopping to caress her cheek with his fingertips.
Her eyes closed for a moment, but her smile lingered in the dwindling space between them as he slid towards her to run his palm over her thigh and capture her lips with a gentle, tentative kiss.
She had wanted this—wanted him—for so long, never knowing if he felt the same way. But the with his lips pressed softly to hers, her questioning mind was eased, and she parted her lips and allowed him to explore her mouth with his.
She turned her body into his and deepened the kiss. His right hand tangled effortlessly in the caramel-colored strands of her hair as his left slid carefully under the back of her white cotton shirt to rest on the warm flesh of her lower back. The kiss grew heated as they passionately explored the new terrain with each other. Removing his hand from beneath her shirt, he reached around and laced his fingers between hers, a gesture that wordlessly conveyed the depths of his love for her. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to run his hands along her bare skin, but he knew that he stood to lose so much more than his partner if he didn't take his time with her.
She runs her hand over the bulge in his pants and his breath hitches as his lips trail a path of kisses down her neck while she continues to massage him.
He speaks, his voice a low growl in the crook of her neck, "If you keep doin' that, I'm not gonna be able to—"
She smiles then, moving her lips to his ear, "Who says I want you to?"
She raises an eyebrow and keeps her gaze fixed on him as she quickly undoes her pants with one hand, using the other to guide his down her panties.
"I'm ready, El" she whispers, as his fingers find their way past the neatly manicured strip of curls to discover just that.
"I'm ready."
The words alone are enough to make him cum in his pants; her warm hands stroking the strained fabric at the crotch of his work slacks doesn't help matters much, either.
"Too close," he grunts in her ear.
Her hand stills on his hardened cock. "So take me with you," she moans seductively, trying to wiggle out of her pants, in the cramped expanse of the passenger seat.
His hand reaches across her, lifting the lever on the side of the seat until it reclines.
She scoots her ass up and shimmies out of her black cotton panties as he lifts the handle below the seat sliding the base as far back as it will go. He unzips his fly then, to relieve some of the mounting pressure against his growing groin. A smirk creeps across his face as he kneels in front of her and eyes her waiting sex, licking his lips.
He closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head in elated disbelief. He's always wondered what Olivia tasted like. When he was alone and needed to take the edge off, he'd work his palm around his hardened shaft, imagining himself squarely in this position, kneeling between her legs, her nether regions on display in front of his face. His wife was never really into foreplay, he thinks, as he places a palm on either of his partner's thighs and parts her with his thumbs. He loses his focus for a moment, wondering how he got to be so lucky. The gentle pressure of her hand on the back of his head brings him back to reality and he places a gentle kiss along her core before wiggling his tongue between her lips and fitting his mouth on her
He glances up at her and notices her other hand had gathered the material of her shirt, leaving it to rest atop her full breasts, a single white lacy bra cup tucked hastily underneath one of them as she tugs on her taut pink nipple.
She's moaning. Not just moaning, but moaning his name as he works his mouth over every crease and valley of her warm, tangy center, sucking and running his tongue along her. Christ.
He mumbles something filthy into her; the erotic reverberations send a shockwave of pleasure throughout her body. The sounds of her sudden erratic panting drown out the noise of her sweaty back lifting off the leather seat as he runs his hands up, gently groping and pressing his fingertips into her perfect ass.
His lips and tongue trail a delicious path from her tight opening to her throbbing bundle, and he widens his mouth over the sweet spot and gently begins to suck.
Her fingers trace lazy circles over his shaved head as he sucks and laps at her while she sighs.
Her pleasure begins to bloom, warm and intoxicating, and he moves his lips up and over the gentle curve of her belly. His breathing is hot and unrestricted now, but she misses his mouth on her, in her, tasting and teasing. He must know this, she realizes when he dips a finger inside her, rubs the moisture into the pad of his thumb and applies a gentle, maddening pressure to her clit. His mouth continues its slow ascent and lands squarely on her puckered nipple. She searches frantically for something to hold onto, wrapping her fingers around the seat belt and gripping it for dear life.
"Oh f-fuuuuck!" She can't help but scream, throwing her head back as she feels his smile forming around her nipple.
Her breath hitches when he sinks two fingers inside her, and she redirects her focus, then, locking eyes with him as she reaches an arm around to unhook her bra.
The fingers on his right hand continued to slide in and out of her with ease, while his left tugged her impeding shirt, up and over her head. She shrugged and rid herself of the final scrap of lace and watched her partner's jaw drop, as his hand stilled its frantic movements.
Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment, and she could feel his gaze meandering over the supple curves of her bare body.
After a long moment, she opened her eyes, and found her partner, still fully clothed and on his knees gaping at her with his hand down his pants.
She was so beautiful, so perfectly put together, he thought as he stroked himself. He was afraid to touch her.
"The hell are you doing, Stabler?" A look of bemused confusion contorted her face.
Suddenly, he was very aware of his surroundings, and of the fact that he'd made some sort of unconscious decision to forego fucking the lithe love of his life, sitting nude in the passenger seat, waiting, wanting him to put his hands on her. Embarrassed, he removed his hand from his pants, placing it on her thigh and moving towards her.
"Now what?" She chuckled.
He studied her carefully before speaking. "Don't you want me to touch you?" He asked tentatively.
"Well yes, but you seemed to be enjoying yourself. I don't want to interrupt." She looked him with a modicum of unwavering seriousness that made him nervous.
"Very funny," he replied after a beat of the slightest hesitation, moving in for a kiss.
She pulled away from his touch. "No, I'm serious," she said coolly. The tone of her voice led him to believe she was, but he didn't quite grasp what she was asking of him. He watched her carefully, cocking his head to the side to express his confusion.
"Touch yourself."
"Liv, I..." He felt himself grow inexplicably hard at her command.
"For me," she smiled, then, kissing his fingertips and guiding them toward his stiffening shaft. She reached forward to undo the buttons on his plaid dress shirt as he lowered his pants and boxers, getting up on his knees to give her a peek.
She doesn't know how on earth she'd gone a decade without seeing him naked, but with any luck, this wouldn't be the last time. He's so thick, his hand doesn't stand a chance of wrapping all the way around him. She licks her lips and eyes the fat vein and pinked head of his thick cock. She imagines the noises he'd make when she took him in her mouth, swirling her tongue over the tip, sucking and licking. A slight twinge of panic overcomes her when she remembers just how long it's been since she'd been with someone.
He seemed to pick up on her anxiety, because he moved his free hand to her side and laced his fingers between hers, locking eyes with her as he stroked himself. "It's okay," he reassured. "We can go slow. Take as much time as we need. No rush."
She wondered how on earth she got to be so lucky. Not only did this man quiet the uneasiness within her, he assumed it as his own. "...As much time as we need," she repeated, smiling and continuing to unbutton his shirt.
"We," she thought to herself. They were in this together.
