Disclaimer: I do not own Law & Order: SVU or it's characters.
A/N: The poem below is something I found that reminded me so much of E/O in this fic. Enjoy this chapter, folks!
Frost webs on our windowpane;
Your skin on my skin;
Warm beneath the sheets—
Lie with me, lover.
Lie a while longer.
Our house lies sleeping too.
Listen.
Hear that?
Barely audible, or
another sense altogether,
Just beneath
our breathing,
the humming fridge,
morning traffic—
The dead, they whisper:
No work that will not wait
'til tomorrow.
- Heather Grace Stewart
She had so many plans. They had breakfast at the hotel and ventured into town, exploring the culture and shops around the secluded place. She couldn't get enough of it. The laid back nature of everyone hit her hard, but not in a bad way. In a sense, she pictured Elliot and herself visiting again someday.
At lunch, they had stopped at a small cafe and through all the chatter of other customers, he managed to catch her attention from across the booth with the brush of his fingers on her thigh, over the floor-length summer dress she was wearing. They had drank two bottles of wine, she remembers, and even how they got home is a little hazy. Two bottles of wine usually only has a bit of an effect on them, but after they finished their second bottle, they knew they were in trouble.
But instead of Elliot getting in the waiter's face about it, he pulled her into his side of the booth and kissed her. The way he had ran his fingers through her hair drove her to move her hands over his chest, covered in a light button up shirt. He'd whispered in her ear that he wanted to take her then, and they couldn't get out of the restaurant fast enough.
Which brings her back to their current moment. Her earlier plans to give him a massage and do absolutely anything he wanted after that were thrown out the window, and instead, she's naked on the couch, pulling Elliot's underwear fully off of his body. He chuckles as she awkwardly straddles him, her weight swaying far too wildly with the alcohol in her system. Maybe they shouldn't be doing this now, but he's hard beneath her and she's too turned on to stop her actions now.
She guides him into her, sinking down slowly to rest her thighs on his. They both moan, and Olivia let's a shiver run down her spine. She loves when he's deep, deep inside of her like this. Resting her hands on his chest, she moves her hips up, then down. She's trying so desperately to not lose control and ride him hard and fast. But fuck, he's got his hands on her hips and as she rises on him again, she catches his eye. His gaze is so heated, so full of every emotion she had been praying he would feel, prior to them getting together. Maybe it's just the wine. She laughs at the thought. She's all fuzzy around the edges. It feels good to be spontaneous.
His cheeks are a little pink, and she sees a flash of that fucking smile she loves so much. Usually, he doesn't smile with his teeth. But she guesses he's in such a euphoria, he's got no choice but to be happy. She winks at him and rises again, this time squeezing her innermost muscles around him.
"Olivia," He grates out, his fingers biting into the skin of her hips. "Fuck, I love you."
Her heart flutters and pounds at his words, and she leans down, kissing just below his ear, missing his face completely in her tipsiness. "I love you too," She smirks, licking a trail down his neck. "Stop distracting me." They both chuckle as she leans up, a smile gracing her face. Her body moves in waves while she rocks on him, making him grunt, making him harder. They haven't gotten drunk in a long time, and although they'll pay for it in the morning, she's aware they both have a soft spot for getting a good buzz and just feeling each other.
His left hand caresses upwards from her hip to her breast, tweaking and teasing her nipple before going higher, onto her face. As she bounces on him, his hand attempts to keep steady but fails, his middle finger landing between her teeth. Her laughter is loud in his ear when she flops back down on him, and just rest. At least, she plans to.
Elliot thrusts hard up into her, and at the same time, he pulls her hips down. She cries out in pleasure, and he moans in her ear, "I can't stop, baby..." with another thrust of his hips. Her eyes roll back and she slowly rises on him again, this time using his chest as major leverage for her intoxicated body. She lets her head fall back as she gets lost in the feeling of rising and falling while he thrusts into her in between. Unconsciously, her nails scrape his skin while she bites her lip as the signs of her approaching climax appear.
Heat. She feels it in his stare, and it only increases with each thrust, each moan that passes their lips. He had looked at her like this in the restaurant and she became powerless to him. When his eyes get that dark, she can't help the wetness that forms between her legs. Their relationship these days is nothing if not powerful, breathtaking. He looks at her like she's worth everything and tries his hardest to make her feel that way as well. But she's not sure if she'll ever be able to shake the feeling she got when he was still married. Like she was worthless.
He sits up, wrapping his arms around her. Comfort. "You think too much when you've been drinking." His voice is so soft in her ear, so gentle. She folds her arms around his neck and grasps his neck, leaning her head on his shoulder. One of his hands is firm on her spine, moving her forward and back again. The friction it causes on Olivia's sensitive bundle of nerves causes her legs to begin shaking. She knows when he drinks, he gets a filthy mouth on him, and it sends a rush of wetness between her thighs that he loves so much. "C'mon, Liv... Come for me."
She's so taken by this moment. He's filling her so deeply that it takes the breath right out of her lungs. His movements, although she moves as well, are slow and deliberate. Even in his drunken state, he takes his time, and it's what she loves about him. He sees no rush in their relationship, in the love and commitment they share.
Her hips demand contact, demand that little bit more physicality to send her hurling over the edge. The hotel's couch squeaks with their efforts, and it brings her back to where they really are. Married. In a tropical republic; more specifically, in a hotel room having drunken sex with her husband.
Hell yes, she deserves this.
Olivia's thighs are open to him, sheen with a thin layer of sweat, as is the rest of her body, and Elliot's. He licks a trail up the crux of her neck, to the shell of her ear. She shatters then, clinging to his slick, sticky back. Her cries and moans are reduced to just murmurs in his shoulder, in his skin that smells of the soap they shared in the shower, and a musk she can only describe as him.
She hears him choke on his breath, and feels the unmistakable sensation of him releasing deep inside of her. They fall back onto the couch, and almost immediately, they both begin to relax into such a state she knows sleep is just a matter of minutes or even seconds away, but she won't have it.
"El-" Olivia begins to protest, but with her head against his upper chest, it's easy for his finger to fall against her cheek, it's intention her lips. She laughs softly.
"Too tired to move, baby." His voice is rough, and indeed tired sounding.
She smiles and kisses his cheek, thanking the warm weather for their ability to stay like this without freezing. There's a throw on the back of the couch, but even she is too tired, too drunk, too lazy to grab it. "You'll regret staying like this in the morning."
"So will you."
Sometime in the night, Elliot had woken up and without a second thought, picked her up and carted her the twenty feet from the couch to the bed. She hadn't opened her eyes, but when he laid down beside her, she lifted her head onto his chest and fell back asleep to the soft snoring of her husband.
But this time when he awakens and pushes up from the bed, she opens her eyes. She watches his bare, muscled ass flex as he walks away from her, and she assumes in the kitchen. Her laughter bubbles up and she quickly buries her face in his pillow, letting her chuckling calm down before she brings her face back up.
The ever familiar sound of Elliot taking out cups from the kitchen cupboards echoes throughout their hotel room. She rises to her feet and pads silently to the door, feeling her nipples pebble while the small amount of wind caused by her movement hits her naked body.
"Torna a letto, El." "Come back to bed, El." She whispers, closing the space between them. Her arms wrap around him from behind, and her mouth presses against the back of his neck.
Elliot breathes deeply, his chest expanding and making her arms tighter around him."Volevo solo un caffè." "Just wanted some coffee." He turns in her arms, holding her face in his strong hands. She can't manage to breathe properly when he looks at her and a smile spreads across his gorgeous face.
It seems like another life when she thought being this close to him would cause her to erupt. Now, when he tugs her up slightly and takes possession of her mouth, she's comfortable. He'll always manage to take her breath away. She laughs against his mouth again, so taken by the situation and how mundane they've become. Through her laughter, she spots the coffee brewing to her right and reaches, switching it off.
He lifts her onto the counter, the sudden movement making her dizzy in her hung over state. They both moan in pain, leaning on each other for support. "I'm too old for this," Elliot chastistes into her hair, his fingers gripping her hips while he lifts her back into his arms. Her legs wrap around his waist on their own violation along with her arms grabbing onto him as they were last night.
Last night.
She tries to hide the arousal that rips through her. The way he moved inside of her was incredible and the most recent memory of them together. Both of those factors are making her ache, but she's so tired. She needs sleep, her husband's arms, the warm and inviting bed they've been sleeping in for the past four nights.
That reminds her, they've only got a week and a bit left until they go home. Even though New York is where home truly is, she can't help but want to stay here and just be selfish. She wants it to just be her and Elliot for a while longer. They don't have to worry about waking Eli, or one of the twins walking in.
He sets her down on the bed, slyly letting his right hand drag between her thighs. "Jesus, Liv..." She closes her thighs, however. His eyes dart to hers just as she covers a yawn with her hand. His laughter is a hard, singular chuckle. Olivia lets him get comfortable beside her. He pulls the blanket up their shoulders, although they'll probably end up throwing the covers off within the next hour or two when the sun is at it's highest. Her head and arm are draped over him while he kisses her head.
Before she slips into her slumber, his fingers work through her hair. It reminds her just how human they are. They're mundane in their marriage because they're both emotionally exhausted from playing everyday heroes.
Her last thought before she falls asleep is, Let me wake up and not have this all be a dream.
A/N: Next chapter; Elliot and Olivia have a conversation about their honeymoon and when making breakfast, someone breaks something.
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