Part Seven

It took a moment, but when his eyes adjusted to the low light, he realized he could just make out her features with the light from the living room. He met her eyes, wishing he could see them better, giving her a moment to realize she could see him as well. "You're the boss."

She reached for his waist, pulling his badge and gun from his belt. "Don't think we'll be needing these."

He grinned. "Might want to hold onto the handcuffs for later."

He didn't need to be able to see her face clearly to feel the way she tensed. He tensed himself, realizing a moment too late just how insensitive his words had been. "I'm sorry, Liv, I'm so sorry."

She nodded, her movements still jerky and stilted when she laid their weapons and badges on her night stand. "I know. It's ok." Her tone was laced with anger, but Elliot was sure it was at the situation rather than at him.

"It's not ok. I wasn't thinking and I should be." He waited for her to turn back toward him before he stepped closer, resting his hands on her waist. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for saying that. If you want to stop, if you want to change your mind, say the word."

"I will," she said with a nod.

His hands moved to her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Not just now. Any time. You say stop and I'll stop, ok?"

There was a long, silent stare as she seemed to fully comprehend what he was saying. Then she nodded again, firmly this time. "Ok."

Her hands found his chest, pressing lightly, slowly sliding down toward his waist, redirecting them from the conversation with a steadfast determination he truly hoped she felt. "So where were we?"

He leaned in to kiss her, stopping a hair short. "I might need you to pinch me at some point so I know I'm not dreaming."

She laughed softly as her arms snaked around his waist. "I doubt I was a nervous basket case in these dreams of yours."

As close as he was, he could see her, could see the anxiety in her expression, could feel the fear in her body. He wanted to reassure her and only one thing came to mind. "I lo-" Somehow he managed to stop the word before it fell the rest of the way out.

Good god that was the last thing she needed to hear.

He was there to be her friend, her partner. Not her lover. She didn't need the added stress of finding out he was in love with her. She was scared enough as it was. Finding out that he'd want more from her than she was able to give would only increase the pressure she was feeling.

He swallowed hard and hoped she was too anxious to have figured out what he'd almost said. "You're sure about this?"

Rather than answer, she reached for his tie, loosening the knot and pulling the material from his collar. Then she moved onto the buttons of his shirt, unfastening the top two before she moved forward and pressed her mouth against his neck.

So much for never getting another erection. At the feel of her tongue on his throat, he was as hard as he'd ever been. The rest of his body quickly followed suit, his hands moving to her shirt, tugging on the hem. He hesitated, waiting for some indication that she was ready to be so exposed. Her arms lifted overhead, giving him all the permission he needed to pull her shirt off.

Free of the shirt, her hands fell back down to his waist, her fingers gripping him a little too tightly as he looked at her. Her slim waist, her full breasts, the dark lace of her bra curling patterns against her skin. His hands moved carefully, starting at her shoulders, tracing down her arms, his thumbs just barely brushing the side of her breasts.

"My god, you're beautiful."

"Good thing the light's out, right," she joked, her shaky voice revealing the fear that was still present.

His eyes snapped to hers. "I'll turn the light on and say it again if you like."

Her fingers moved back to his shirt, finishing the buttons and sliding the shirt down his arms. Then her hands splayed across his chest. "Talk about beautiful. You been working out, Stabler?"

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her nearly bare chest against his. "Been waiting for this for fifteen years, you think I'd risk not being ready?"

She moved her hands between them, tracing the curves of his muscles on his chest and stomach. "I've been waiting for this too." Her hands snaked up, curling around his head and pulling him down to kiss her. "Fifteen years is too long."

He couldn't respond, not only was his tongue busy mapping her mouth once again, but his thought process was entirely derailed by the fact that Olivia was pushing him backwards onto the bed and climbing on top of him. He doubted she really cared for more conversation, not with the way she was kissing him. Her hands were feather light as they danced over his skin and he almost wished her touch was heavier, except that the goosebumps her touch produced proved she knew exactly what she was doing. She broke the kiss, trailing her lips and tongue along his chin and throat, chasing the path of her hands down his chest.

He couldn't resist the groan that fell out of his mouth. The thought alone of Olivia touching him was enough to make him groan; the actual touch, well, shit, that might just kill him. He reached up, wanting to share some of the ecstasy with the woman who was causing it. His hands found the front clasp of her bra, but he paused, looking up at her face, waiting for permission. She nodded at him, letting him free her breasts of the lace, moving her hands away from him to toss the fabric behind her.

And then it was her turn to groan as his hands moved to cup her breasts, his thumbs swiftly flicking over their peaks. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop himself, didn't even realize he'd intended to do it. He was just leaning up, his mouth closing around one of her nipples, sucking on it. He felt her nails digging into his skin and, though recognized that it hurt, he really didn't give a fuck.

But it seeped into his hormone-hazed brain that she might be trying to tell him something, that she might have spoken when he was too addled with lust to hear her, that his actions might be frightening to her.

His mouth abandoned her breast immediately as his head fell back to the bed. "Are you," he stopped to breathe, wondering why he was so short of breath, and then promptly noticed the half-dressed sex god above him. That was he at all coherent was a blessing. "Ok, Liv?"

She stared down at him, her face dazed, her head bobbing slowly as she processed the words. "Yeah, yes, why'd you stop?"

He looked down, seeing where her nails were still biting into his arms. "You were - I thought I was hurting you."

"Oh, sorry." Her fingers released finally, revealing marks on his skin visible even in the dark. He wouldn't know if they were bleeding or just red until he could see, but he honestly didn't care. "No, you were, uh, no, definitely not hurting me."

He would be happy to be bleeding if it meant he was giving her that much pleasure. He smirked up at her, unable to keep the self-satisfied gleam from his eyes, hoping she could see it in the low light. "Well, then, in that case-"

And then his mouth was full once again.

And her fingers were slicing back through his skin once more.

He knew better than to let up this time though. He kept at his task, one hand massaging her breast, his fingers teasing that nipple, while his tongue teased the other. She moaned above him, her hold on his arms remaining tight, her hips pressing down onto his. She had to feel his erection, hell she was rubbing herself against it, but like she'd said, there was no indication that she felt anything other than desire with him.

He could only hope that he'd be able to remember that information later, when he had time to decipher what it meant. Was it that she truly trusted him that much? Was it that she knew he'd stop no matter how turned on he was if she asked? Was it that she wanted him so much it overrode any tendency toward fear she would normally feel in that situation? It was a long shot, ridiculously so, but still, he wanted to believe it was at least possible.

He shifted slightly, moving to lavish the same attention on her other breast, finding her every bit as receptive. Her moans were more or less constant, her arms were shaking, and her crotch was grinding onto his erection. He heard the change in her breathing, heard the way her moans died out as she began to pant. She was close. He knew normally she would never be so close so fast, but she'd already confided in him that it had been years. It wasn't a reflection on his skills; she really was that desperate, like she'd said.

In that moment, he realized he had to prove himself to her. Because she'd be satisfied with anything. Because he wasn't going to let her settle for less than the best.

He redoubled his efforts, sucking on her, rubbing her, thrusting his hips up harder against her.

It only took a second for her thighs to tighten around him, her fingers to grip even tighter, her panting to become a scream.

His head fell back, releasing the tension that had built in his neck, and he watched smugly while she rode the waves of pleasure. He shouldn't feel so proud, his ministrations had only barely helped what she'd been beyond desperate to release. But he'd fix that. They had all night.

Her upper body dropped onto his and she sighed. "Thank you."

He laughed, surprised at the polite words. "No, Liv, thank you."

She pried her relaxed body up again, coming to sit on her knees, still straddling him. "Scoot back."

He hadn't even realized his feet were hanging off the bed, but leave it to his partner to pay attention to every little detail. "Yes, ma'am." He pulled himself backwards until he felt her pillows behind his head, and then settled down against them.

Olivia's eyes moved over his chest, followed the outline of his erection straining against his pants, lingering over every inch of him. There was an unreadable expression on her face, at least with her backlit by the living room light. In fact, she looked almost angelic, a golden halo peeking around her head.

Her hands moved onto his chest, her fingers running along his muscles again. "You're really fucking strong, aren't you?"

He kept trying to make out her face despite the impossibility of it. He was strong, tried to make up for all of his emotional and mental short comings by building his muscles. He always wanted to be able to protect the people he loved, Olivia included. But watching her feeling him, the product of his intense workouts, he realized for the first time that his sheer size might be more of a threat than a comfort to her. He didn't want to scare her. Ever.

And then it occurred to him that they'd achieved her goal already.

It was disappointing, but true. She'd been able to enjoy herself with an eager, excited man. She'd gotten off with a man's help, and though Elliot knew it hadn't been the best orgasm ever, he recognized that it was enough to take that desperate edge off.

Unfortunately, he would be left all wound up and even more desperate than he'd been and with no resolution besides himself, which would undoubtedly not be the same as coming inside Olivia's unbelievable body. He groaned at the thought, aware of, but unable to prevent, his hips pushing up, seeking her warmth, her touch.

She smiled at him, her face lowering to place a wet kiss on his throat. "Relax, El, it's your turn."

He whimpered at the incredible low, throaty whisper he'd never dared imagine his partner could produce. He'd be hearing that voice in his head at all sorts of inopportune times in the future. He could just tell. He wasn't sure he'd mind either.

He reached up, his hands cradling his partner's face and made the most altruistic gesture of his life. "No, Liv, you don't have to. It's ok." He might die from the worst case of blue balls known to mankind, but he wouldn't force, wouldn't even expect, Olivia to keep going. "You've made a hell of a lot of progress tonight. You can stop if you want."

Judging from the way she froze and tensed every muscle in her body, Elliot knew he'd said the wrong thing. In fact, when she looked down, her shoulders drooping, he was pretty sure it was the most wrong thing anyone in history had ever said.