I'm sorry but there is a good chance this entire fic will be frustrating as fuck.
Your words are my world and so is my beta.
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Her nerve endings were on fire.
But the heat that had ignited her body was contradicting the fact that she was frozen.
She lay still, motionless, completely paralyzed and she wasn't sure if it was derived from fear or shock - or both.
The swarm of heat in her lower belly was a deep throb and the moisture between her legs was a damp pool. Her arms were still locked in their position, and it wasn't until his weight had lifted off hers that she'd become aware of how stiff and rigid her arm muscles were.
It had hit her then - he still hadn't fucking broken her free.
Her eyes were pressed so tightly together that she felt the pin pricks budding and the moisture starting to seep from the corners, but it was due to the pressure from squinting that she attributed this to – because she wasn't crying. Fuck she wouldn't cry.
Elliot was still.
He had been from the moment he'd rolled off of her body and they only existed in silence now.
She had somehow managed to keep her breathing at bay, but with each subtle rise and fall of her chest, her lungs became desperate for a deeper fill.
She should be thinking about the message, the possibilities, the anger that she'd seen radiating down at her from those blue eyes. She was well aware that she should be scraping the shit off the walls and cleaning the blades of the fan right now. Instead, she was picturing his mouth, that tongue, those hands, the groaning, his erection pressing into her, the fact that she nearly came – twice – but that the prick had slowed down and prevented her release, on purpose.
Fuck.
She knew she needed to be talking, defending, eradicating, troubleshooting, but she didn't want to explain the message, or the night, or the fuck up, or her failure. She didn't want to face any of the music - all she goddamn wanted was some relief south of the boarder.
She could feel the anger pulsating beside her and she should be worried, in fact that was an understatement - she should be terrified. He was furious with her, to the point where she thought it was possible that he might get up and leave her tied to the bed. She should fearhis reaction, yet it was riling her up because she wanted that heat, that fire, that anger she saw within his eyes - between her legs.
His anger was fucking turning her on.
It was when she heard his breathing alter that she knew that something was about to happen. He was either going to say or do something and she only had seconds to prepare herself. Her heart began to thump in her chest and all she wanted in the world was for him to throw the fucking phone at the wall and sink down on top of her again.
Her eyes were still pinched closed and before she knew it, the mattress beside her began to bow as he started to inch closer. Her body involuntarily sunk into the crevice he'd created and she dug her teeth into her lower lip in anticipation. She sensed a flash of movement above her and without thinking, she flinched, unable to control her body from jolting beneath him as if anticipating his impending anger.
She felt him pause, hovering above her and she knew then what he'd be thinking - she'd just reacted as if he were going to physically strike her. When she finally became game enough to open her eyes they locked immediately with his and he was staring down at her with a look of dismay, as if he couldn't believe she'd think he'd do something like that. She felt horrible, awful because she knew it never would have come to that but nothing about either of their actions tonight could have been anticipated. The reality she was now facing was that from this point onward, she had no idea what to expect from him.
His hands began to reach out and she couldn't help it, she was shaking, because this had all become too real and the consequences pummeled into her like a freight train. He was looking down at her with a strange sense of confusion and she didn't want to be reacting like this but any control she had over her feelings tonight had been futile. He moved slowly, hesitantly until his grip wrapped around the wooden pole and she sucked in a breath. She counted three beats of silence before he wretched it once, snapping it completely out the headboard.
She felt the tug on the cuffs and winced as the jagged end of the pole scraped down her wrist in pursuit. She dug her teeth into her lip to prevent herself from calling out as she heard the piece of wood hurtle into the contents on her dresser. Her eyes were clamped tightly shut as the cool sting of air aggravated the fresh scrape. She pulled it down to her chest to shield the wound and simultaneously covered her breasts. She knew it was redundant, he'd already seen and touched her tonight but it was knee jerk reaction to the vulnerability she was suddenly feeling.
She wasn't bleeding, she knew this, it was just a sting but it was deep enough to raise the swollen flesh so she pressed it into her chest for relief. When she opened her eyes again he was staring down at her, still sporting the confusion only now it was mixed with overwhelming concern. He reached out and it was slow but she could tell he knew now that he'd hurt her, or at least that he suspected he had. His fingers closed around her palm and he attempted to pull her bound hands downward to expose her wrist. She immediately resisted, holding her arms tightly against her breasts until his hand softened within hers.
"Liv," he whispered and it wasn't a warning, it was either a plea or an apology, she wasn't sure. She didn't want to make a big deal out of it, she knew it was an accident but the more hesitant she was to show him, the more concern arose in his expression. She let him extend her bound arms slowly downward and his eyes glossed over the raised red line. She watched his features crumble and she knew that it probably looked a lot worse than it was. It was just a line, it wouldn't bleed or scar or bruise. It was just a swollen scrape that would probably fade over night. She tried to pull her arms back, take the visual away from him but he held her wrist steady and continued to rake his eyes over it.
He moved his other hand until he was cradling her wrist and she involuntarily shivered as his thumb ran the length of the raised flesh. He slid it up and down the mark as if he were trying to will the irritated skin to retreat, soften, smooth out.
"I'm sorry," he told her softly, his voice was shaky and the fact that he was the one apologizing right now seemed unjust. She wondered if the heat and the anger from mere seconds ago had dissipated completely or if it was just lying dormant. It was a selfish realization but she was almost glad for the incident if it meant the darkness she'd seen in his eyes had lifted. She didn't want to startle him out of his daze but she needed to wipe the concern from his eyes because the guilt was almost stifling her now.
"It's fine El," she told him quietly and her voice was horse so she cleared it before she continued. "Really." Her arm remained in his hold and she didn't attempt to move it, instead she let her hand slowly twist around, chancing more intimate contact as her fingers curled around his wrist.
They locked eyes and it was an agonizing few seconds before she let her thumb smooth over his pulse point and his reaction was palpable. His mouth opened and his eyes moved slowly back and forth between hers. He was going to say something she thought, or do something and it was when she caught the desire still evident in those irises that her thumb stopped swiping, the breath she was taking lodged in her throat and in one impulsive moment she tugged on his wrist.
He fell unavoidably downward before his other hand flew out, bracing himself beside her head. He hovered above her and their eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity before she saw the haze suddenly lift. He pulled his hand immediately from hers and her bound arms thumped against her stomach.
A few beats of silence passed between them before he spoke.
"Get dressed," he told her and just like that the mood had immediately reverted and the anger she thought she'd quenched was now back with full force. She could see now that her futile attempt at reconciliation wasn't going to work and there was little patience left in the man above her.
She didn't take her eyes off him and wondered if he realized that getting dressed with bound hands was going to be next to impossible.
He started to make motions to get off her bed and she assumed he would head out to her living room but instead he walked into her connected bathroom and closed the door a little too she was enveloped in silence she chose that moment to expel the breath she had been holding. She waited a few moments before she moved her hands up to observe thick raised line and she blew on it softly. The sting was more of nuisance than a pain but she continued to blow on it for a few seconds before she dropped her hands against her stomach.
Fuck.
She knew she needed to get up, grab some clothes and do her best to cover up the undeniable mess she'd caused tonight. She wondered how much longer she had until he'd come out of her bathroom. She pulled her body upward and it was a struggle with the cuffs but she managed to plant her feet on the floor and walk over to her dresser. She grabbed a pair of jeans and all she could find was tank tops and t-shirts but she wanted something more substantial.
She located a grey hoodie and tossed it quickly onto the bed while she attempted to slide her legs into the jeans. It was a trying process with the cuffs but she pulled the material up her thighs and managed to fasten them without stumbling. She reached for the hoodie and quickly made her way into the living room intent on finding these god-forsaken keys.
As she rounded into her kitchen she scanned the bench top and quickly moved items that could potentially be obstructing their view. She pulled out the toaster, the kettle, the empty fruit bowl and was praying she would find the reflective metal shining back at her. She moved frantically because she knew she was on a time limit and wanted to get the hoodie on before he reappeared. When nothing came of her search she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to think.
They had come through the door, she had the keys in her hands, then he grasped her around the waist and walked her into the kitchen. She remembered he lifted her up onto the counter, she ran her hands through his hair, his body wedged between her legs and he kissed her. Her hands. Through his hair. Meaning she didn't have the keys in her hands. Her line of sight flew to the doorway to where she'd flung them haphazardly on the wooden entry table scattered amongst other items but still in plain view.
Son of a bitch.
She scraped her hands down her face and the anger coursed through her veins. She wanted to scream. She was pissed at herself for not remembering but she was livid at Elliot for missing the most obvious place in his so-called search.
She stalked towards them, grasped them and twisted her hands accordingly so she could insert the small metal key into the cuffs. Her fingers shook because she wanted this done before he came out and she'd already heard the taps in her bathroom switch off.
She twisted the key, the hinge swung open and she slipped her wrists quickly out of the cuffs, dropping them on the entry table along with the keys. She grabbed the hoodie from the kitchen and slid both arms in before she zipped it up the front. It was an afterthought but she was kicking herself for not grabbing a tank or a t-shirt for underneath.
The anger of the situation now practically consuming her because she realized the entire course of events could have been avoided if he'd just opened his god-forsaken eyes.
The door to her bedroom opened and her heart thumped wildly when she saw him step into her living room. It was seconds before she realized she was going to lose it. She took the two steps towards the entry table, grasped the keys in the palm of her hand and pegged them directly at him. He turned towards her but didn't have enough time to avoid the flying object before it hit him square in the neck. His hand came up to quench the blow but she didn't process the guilt because the anger was too palpable.
"Are you fucking kidding me Elliot?" she yelled and in the heat of the moment she didn't think she was overreacting. He glared at her in response and rubbed the skin of his neck where the keys had connected. She knew it would have hurt, she hadn't held back and the force behind her shot coupled with the jagged ends of the keys would have been extremely painful. It didn't matter she told herself, because he fucking deserved it. She removed the steps between them because she was too angry to have this argument from across her apartment. "The keys were on the entry table the entire time!" she shouted.
She was only a step away from him when he grabbed her by the bicep and pulled her until the step between them disappeared. She was up against his chest and the tension in her body was too wild to lie dormant. She pulled back in an attempt to wrench herself out of his grasp but he didn't let up. She used her free hand to slam forcibly into the solid wall of his chest, but he barely flinched, just seized her free wrist and yanked her even closer. Her face was now millimeters from his and noises of exertion escaped her as she twisted in his hold, struggling to control her breathing.
"Calm down Olivia," he told her and she felt the grip around her loosen but she didn't want to calm down. She wanted to fight him, fight this, whatever the hell it was between them, she had been restrained for so long and right now she wanted to explode.
His hands began to release her and she used it to her advantage by pushing her entire body into him. He stumbled unexpectedly backward and grabbed onto her arm for stability in the process. She took it as retaliation and connected her elbow directly into his ribs. He stumbled further backward until the backs of his knees bumped the arm of her sofa and he started to lose his balance. His hand was still latched onto her arm when he fell against the edge of the couch and she knew they wouldn't be upright for much longer. The couch broke his fall before he crashed onto the floor but she had enough forewarning to brace herself with her hands.
A palm landed either side of his head and she immediately leaned back on her heels in an effort to retreat. He was too quick and reached up and grasped the first thing he could secure. Her breath caught when his fingers curled around the material of her hoodie and the tips tingled the skin of her chest as he yanked her downward. She fell into his chest and her palms immediately resisted against the solid wall but his grip on her hoodie wasn't budging. She yanked backward but he was holding her tight and if she pulled any harder the material would rip. She slid a leg either side of his body, braced herself on her knees and grasped the hand that was holding her. She pulled in a futile attempt to wrench his fingers off her and suddenly she snapped.
"Let go!" she yelled and he released her immediately. The motion sent her flying backwards until she crashed onto her side. She could sense she had pissed him off enough to fight her back now and if she didn't move soon he was about to have the advantage. She attempted to scramble backwards but when he climbed over her she panicked and took a swing at his face. He caught her wrist before her palm connected with his cheek and his expression was shock and bemusement as he looked down at her.
The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins as she lifted her free hand and tried again. Her palm connected with his jaw and the open fisted slug echoed through her apartment. She hadn't held back and it had caught him off guard, his grip left her wrist and suddenly she was free. She twisted around in an attempt to move up onto her hands and knees but he grasped her leg and before she knew it he had flipped her over. He moved a leg either side of her body, seized her wrists and in one blindsiding moment dropped his entire weight onto her. His chest crushed hers, his lower half slammed into her stomach and he pinned her arms at shoulder height.
The breath in her lungs was expelled from the pressure of his body weight and she felt every inch of him as he pressed her into the ground.
"The fuck?" he rasped into her and she felt his lips scrape down the shell of her ear. Her legs were wedged between his and that familiar pang in her lower belly thumped from the pressure of his lower half. It was different from the bed; there was no softness to account for his weight, no graces, just the firm hard bulk of his body that pummeled her into the floor. She could barely breathe because he crushed her but it didn't matter. She would gladly forgo oxygen if it meant she got to feel every inch of him like this.
He breathed heavily against her and it was only when his chest expelled a breath that she could inhale one of her own. His grip around her wrists wasn't letting up as if he thought she had a hope of moving right now.
"The hell Olivia?" he was in her ear again and his throaty voice sent a rush of heat between her legs. She didn't want questions, she couldn't explain this, she couldn't explain that she just needed to feel him on her again - damn the cost. She still wanted him; the layers of clothing she'd piled on had done nothing to eliminate the growing need between her legs.
The heat from his mouth warmed her neck and she started to feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. Her hipbones were crushed beneath him and she knew he would have to relieve some of his weight off her soon or she was going to pass out. She couldn't seem to manage a shallow breath now but admitting this would acknowledge weakness.
So instead –
"Get-" she choked out before she could manage the rest. "-off me."
She was a bitch, she knew this, because everything about her actions tonight had implied she wanted otherwise and she knew what a demand like that would do to him. He was going to question himself now, wonder if he'd crossed a line with her when it was all her doing - her pushing - her forcing him to annihilate boundaries.
He exhaled heavily into her neck before he released her wrists and slipped off her body. As he rolled onto his back she sucked in the air she'd forgone. She felt the color return to her cheeks and the relief of oxygen washed over her. As he lay beside her she closed her eyes against the brightness of her living room and all she wanted was to sleep now. The exhaustion of the night had finally caught up to her and she knew there was only a few hours before the sun would rise.
She wondered what would happen if she asked him to leave. Would he lose his shit completely or just comply? Maybe even he'd agree that things would be easier if they didn't talk. As her heart rate began to taper and her muscles began to sink into the carpet, it was his voice that washed over her.
"Olivia," he whispered and she felt the strain hidden within her name. "Start talking."
TBC
