Disclaimer: I do not own Law & Order: SVU or it's characters.
A/N: I am stunned by the amazing reviews everyone has left. I hope the word spreads about this fic and more and more read this.
One thing he loves about Olivia, is that she's always honest. Even in silence, like they are tonight.
Her fingers dig into his back and he can almost hear her murmuring in his ear, telling him she wants more. As he walks, the heels of her feet press on the curve between his lower back and his ass.
He had been thoughtful in his decision to carry her the half-dozen steps to the water's edge. There are two reasons he's now lowering her onto the wet sand; one of them being, he's aware that as much as Olivia tries to hide it, she's a romantic. He'll see the look in her eyes when he does something simple, like kissing her neck while she brushes her teeth. His second reasoning is the sand. Although they've both fallen in love with this cheap escape, the dry sand would be a hell of a lot messier than making love to Olivia at the water's edge.
With his thoughts pushing to the back of his mind, he refocuses his efforts on her. He sits on his knees between her legs, one hand tangled in her now knotted hair, the other on her left breast. The warm Fiji water comes and goes in waves beneath them, and he likes that it adds a bit of saltiness to her skin.
"El," She pants, arching her neck as he licks and sucks a particularly sensitive spot. He could spend all day with his lips on her neck, because he's fascinated with the way she squirms and writhes. His hard length presses on her abdomen, and he can't let himself ruin this moment by pushing her bottoms aside and thrusting into her hard and fast like a part of him desperately wants to.
Yet, the other, larger portion of his conscience is completely at ease. She arches up into him when her shoulders jerk, he looks down and notices she's taking off her bikini top. His smirk is wicked as he dips his head, and he uses his left hand to pull the material up enough to get his mouth on her nipples.
The water flows in and out beneath them, occasionally splashing high enough to leave water droplets on their bodies.
She's bare but for her bottoms, and he nearly groans when his eyes work down her torso. Her nipples are hard and he's almost gasping to breathe, to relieve some tension in his crotch. They're silent, but she touches his face and brings him out of his revere, and back to her. He loves when she smiles like this, when he knows she's so fucking happy. His eyes are glued to hers as she moves that hand, and the other, down his chest, to the strings on his blue swimming trunks.
When she frees him from the constraints of the waterproof material and begins stroking him, his right hand comes down hard onto the wet sand beside her head. He hovers above her face, watching her while she focuses on the task at hand- literally and figuratively. His other hand tugs at her bikini bottoms, urging her to let go of him so he can pull them off, but they both know he doesn't want her to stop.
It's a magnificent catch-22.
He sees the fire in her eyes, however, and gently pushes her hand away from his length. When he sits back on his knees and works her bottoms over the hips that his eyes have been drawn to for way too long, he thinks back on how they got here. Not just the long plane rides, but the first time they kissed. The thought alone makes his heart pound a little quicker.
They hadn't been drinking, but rather having a very serious and intense conversation that even when he was living in that moment, he could wrap his head around it. Her hands had shook because she was so frightened, so terrified that he was going to be angry with her. But he had done the opposite. He agreed with her statement, so much so that he was planning on doing this same thing that she was.
Quitting.
"I'm burnt out," Olivia had whispered through her trembling lips, taking sharp intakes of breath until he rested his hand on her thigh. She stopped her panic then, and leaned her head against the back of the couch. They had chosen to sit facing each other and he was glad in that moment, because he could see her entire face as he desperately tried to read her emotions. "I'm sorry, El. So sorry..." Her tears had spilled then and he knew that she was crying for the twelve years they spent together as partners, and for the future that she wasn't sure of.
He had looked at her long and hard and in a low, nearly in inaudible voice, he replied, "I'm glad we're leaving together." His then partner had gasped, her eyes searching his. They had worked a particularly hard, soul-sucking case together, and he knew in his heart and mind that him and Olivia just couldn't do it anymore.
The rare times when Olivia and him aren't together, he'll let his mind wander. What would his life turned out to be like if they kept working at SVU? But other times, he just couldn't bear the thought.
She had hugged him, when she defrosted from her shock. They'd clung to one another, his digits probably stretching the back of her shirt when he gripped it for dear life. He still remembers the way her hair and skin smelt, and how she shook in his arms, even when he pulled back but still had his arms around her. How he didn't even notice his eyes were shut until he felt her breath on his lips.
In that moment, he couldn't pull away.
Elliot was gravitated to her, and still is. He fought tooth and nail not to ravish her the way he wished, to take his time, because they were both scared. Come to think of it, they're still scared.
She pulls him back to reality, back to the beach that he still can't believe he's on with his new wife, naked as the day she was born. "El," Olivia's voice is a rumble from deep inside of her. He knows she only talks like this when she feels as though the teasing has gone on long enough. "What were you thinking about?"
He doesn't give her a direct answer, but pulls her bare legs around his waist. "I'll tell you later..." His voice is the same rumble as hers was, because even though they love to take their time, he doesn't want to beat around the bush until it's too late. On his elbows now, he kisses her without thinking as he pushes himself inside of Olivia.
It's all too much. But it's never enough.
Her body is nothing like any other woman's. Kathy's was too fragile, although he would never had said a word to her about it. When he got divorced the first time, the women he slept with were just a blur. They didn't mean anything to him because he was trying to wipe away the thought that even though his marriage was done, he wanted to jump into another one. Except this time, with Olivia. He'll never forgive himself for leading her on, making her believe that they were going to become more than partners before he slept with Kathy again, resulting in Eli. His latest offspring was one of the few reasons he stayed sane during his second divorce, another being his partner.
He's not a fucking thing without the woman beneath him. She almost whines when he pulls back and thrusts into her again, keeping his slow and deliberate pace. Her fingers are up and down his spine, moving over the muscles that contract and release with each powerful movement. He holds her right breast in his hand, squeezing it and tugging at the sensitive nipple.
It's the way she moves. One of her sandy hands caresses his face while her hips are circling. The scar on her neck isn't protruding, but when the sun hits it as her neck arches, his eyes are drawn to it.
Guilt.
She always tell him not to feel it. That it doesn't matter anymore, because they're together. But he still feels it occasionally. She kisses him deeply then, and his worries are temporarily restored by the mindset that he's inside of the woman that's been inside of him for thirteen years. Sometimes he doesn't know why she fell in love with him.
But when she looks up at him and smiles, there's a content part of him that's fine with not knowing. "I love you."
They're both so overtaken by the sensations and emotions that still flow. It makes it difficult for her to speak, but she manages. "I love you too." His lips press hard against hers when she finishes, but he pulls back to watch her eyes; widening and dilating. The fingers on Olivia's right hand grip the back of his neck don't pull, but she clings as she slowly loses a hold on herself.
He's a starving man when it comes to her. The feeling of her beginning to tighten around him in unexplainable. They don't count the seconds, minutes, or hours they spend making love. But he cherishes every experience with her. She's the kind of woman that makes him realize things about himself during sex.
She's also the kind of woman that scratches. He loves that she'll mark him and he's very aware of the possessiveness they both hold over one another. She's trying to thrust back against him, desperately. His lips twitch upwards when she moans loudly as his tongue moves over her nipples.
He's seen her age in the past six months. The lines in her face becoming deeper. But more importantly, how relaxed she's become. Six months ago she was tense and he wasn't sure if they would survive together. She's even more gorgeous when at ease.
Olivia cries out. He tries not to be affected by the rippling of her slick vice, but the love they make is almost painful in it's emotion. Her mouth is agape, sucking in as much air as possible before her approval sounds again. When he feels her fingernails scrape agonizingly down his back, he let's loose deep inside of her.
If this is what the rest of his life is going to be like, he's plenty fucking happy.
A/N: Let me know what you think, loves.