She drove this time. Elliot was handsy most of the way, but they managed to behave long enough to make it back to Olivia's apartment.
"Beer's in the fridge," she offered, taking off her coat.
"I don't want the damn beer, Liv," Elliott said, stalking slowly toward her with a predatory look in his eyes. He pressed her into the wall beside the door and moved in to kiss her. Then he stopped suddenly.
"Wait. Give me your phone," he demanded.
"What? Why?"
"Just give it to me," he insisted.
Olivia fished her phone out of her back pocket and relinquished it to him. He glanced quickly around her apartment.
"What are you doing?"
He didn't answer her. Instead he went straight for the fridge and put both their phones inside on the shelf next to the beer he had no intentions of drinking.
She laughed at him. "The fridge? Seriously?"
"Cragen promised he wouldn't call tonight, but I'm not taking any chances. I don't even want to see the damn things."
Then he resumed his earlier position, pressing her into the wall with his hips as he kissed her. She responded immediately, lacing her fingers behind his neck and giving in to the kiss.
"It's time, Liv."
"God I hope so."
He kissed her harder, and she moaned as he ran his hands over her body outside of her clothes. He slid his fingers down the back of her left thigh and drew her leg up on his hip, pressing further into her and grinding against her.
"El?"
"Mmmm."
"Elliot."
"Yeah?" he pulled back breathing hard.
"Bedroom."
He pulled himself off of her so she could step away from the wall. He ran his hands over his face. They were only minutes in and he was already out of control. He needed to slow down and give this the time it deserved.
She walked a pace ahead of him down the short hallway into her dark bedroom. She flipped on a small bedside lamp and watched him tentatively approach the doorway. He'd waited years to get here and she was welcoming him in, but he took each step with care. She was amused by the look on his face, like he was trying not to step on a crack in the sidewalk.
She approached him, linking two fingers over his belt buckle and pulling him toward her. "Suddenly shy now, Stabler?"
"Just pinching myself."
"You're here," she whispered. "I'm here. This is gonna happen."
"Let me look at you, Liv," he said running his palm over her cheek and locking eyes. "In case I forget to say it, you know ..."
"I know. Now show me."
He pulled her against him and channeled all the anticipation he was feeling into a kiss. She ran her hands up his shoulders and around his neck, sweeping her tongue into his mouth. He undid his tie and tossed it on the floor.
Then he ran his hands up her back, nearly lifting her. He pulled her leg up around him again and lowered her down on the bed, carefully placing his weight on her. Her hair spread out around her head, her earrings glinting in the low light of the lamp and her eyes filled with want. He pulled his right hand from behind her thigh - which was still high on his waist – and ran it along her hip and over her breast, softly squeezing through her blouse. She writhed underneath him, wanting to feel more of his hardness against her, wanting him to keep going, just wanting him.
She fingered the top buttons on his shirt and started to undo them. He raised up on his hands then to give her better access to his torso. She didn't waste time, sweeping her hands over his shoulders and taking his shirt with them. He slipped his arms free, revealing his chiseled shoulders. She traced his upper arms with her fingertips, slipping them into the dips and curves of his muscles. But it was his forearms that had always driven her secretly mad. He usually worked with his sleeves rolled up, so she'd spent 14 years watching his moods reflected in the twitching flexes of his forearms. As she rolled her head around underneath him, giving him access to kiss the pulse points on her neck, her eyes dragged over the Marine Corps tattoo on the inside of his right forearm.
His lips traced her jaw as his left hand swept over her breast. "God Liv, I've got to touch you. Now."
He pulled up on his knees and hovered over her. She stared into his eyes as he unbuttoned her blouse. He took his time, in part because this first rendezvous required care, but mostly because his hands were shaking. Finally her blouse was open to reveal a maroon bra with silk trimmed cups. The wine-colored garment set off her olive skin and the shimmering gold of her necklaces. The clasp was in the back.
"You're gonna have to work a little harder on this one," she teased.
He smiled and ran his tongue along her skin where the cups met her breasts. He drew his mouth down across her stomach and reached around her back as she arched up into him. If anyone asked, he might say he was slick, but he knew he'd just been lucky when her bra clasp gave way on his first try. He raised her up toward him, tearing away her blouse and tossing her bra to the side.
They were almost back where they'd left off the first time, skin on skin, her nipples pressed to his pecks.
"God Baby, you feel good," he breathed at her.
She must have caught him off guard because it didn't take much for her to turn the tables and roll him onto his back. She threw her left leg over him and mounted her man, her hair falling forward and brushing over his face. She wiggled herself down his thighs to give her hands room to work, unbuckling his belt in torturously slow fashion. He smiled up at her, caressing her cheek with one hand and tweaking her nipple with the other.
While her fingers worked, her eyes melded over his abdomen, across his navel and down along the hair-lined happy trail to his zipper. She'd seen him shirtless so many times before, but now she was really allowed to look and - dear God - touch. She lowered his zipper in time with her tongue, which she dragged down the center of his chest. She knew it felt good for him but she'd be lying if she said she'd done it for anyone but herself. She opened his pants and slid her tongue south until it reached the band of his boxers. She swung herself back up and off of him so she could rid him of his trousers. Then she climbed back on. He didn't allow her time to settle in her saddle though before rolling her back over and devouring her nipples with his warmth mouth. She palmed his head and voiced her pleasure.
"Mmmm. So good."
Later he might regret not taking nearly as much time removing her pants as she'd done with his. But he was moving to the rhythm of her moans. She wanted to reach inside his boxers and stroke him but he pushed her hand away. "Not yet," he told her. He had things to do, and he didn't need her speeding him along.
He was one pair of silk panties away from having her naked and under him. He shifted his weight off to the right so he was half on her and half beside her. He ran his hand across her right breast again before slipping it along her hip into her panties and starting to drag them down her right hip. She lifted up a little so he could lower them on the other side too. Her smooth skin and trimmed curls came into view as he kept his mouth linked to hers while slipping her panties off her ankles. With a single fingertip he traced the inside of her thigh, slowly, torturously. He intentionally avoided touching her where she so wanted to be touched, prolonging the painful pleasure by running that finger up her hip, across her abdomen and down along the inside of her other thigh.
"God Elliott," she whispered, almost whimpered. "Please touch me."
Finally he lowered his finger through her folds, touching her lightly as he'd done the previous night on his sofa. He passed gently over her sensitive bud then used the same hand to push her right leg open and reveal her to him. His cock throbbed between his belly and her hip.
He kissed her as softly as he touched her, ever so slightly slipping his tongue into her mouth at the same moment he slipped his fingertip inside her. She arched under him, pulling his finger further in.
"Oh God, yes. Like that."
She was slick and smooth inside, and his cock begged to be where his finger was. He worked her slowly, sliding his middle finger in and out of her gently as he mouthed her nipples. She ran her hand along the forearm of the hand that was on her, in her. As he turned his hand to twist his finger, she could feel his forearm flex the same way she watched it contract when he'd grip the table and get in a perp's face. That Elliot and this Elliot collided as she slipped over the edge, a powerful wave of pleasure rolling through her belly and softly clenching his finger. She writhed and cried out with its power. He kept his finger moving and his mouth working throughout, forcing himself not to come.
She trembled and breathed hard as the waves subsided. He gently withdrew his finger, retracing his path along her inner thighs, easing her down.
He smiled at her. "That was so hot," he said.
"You have no idea."
He kissed her then as he used one hand to shimmy his briefs off of each hip. She drew her foot up and hooked them with her toes to get them the rest of the way off. His warm hardness was on her hip now, and she craved it. She wanted every part of him inside her.
"Liv," he whispered, "I don't have anything. You know … a condom." He was like an altar boy saying a naughty word.
"You don't need one."
"But ..."
"We're good. I want to feel everything," she told him, never breaking eye contact. "Remember ... you promised."
He laughed a little. "Yeah I guess I did. You're sure?"
"So sure."
Her opened her legs further with his knees and settled between them. She reached down and stroked him. She'd been waiting so long for this very thing, this particular moment of impact.
He steadied his cock with his left hand - the same one he'd pleasured her with moments ago - and pressed the head between her folds. She inhaled and held the breath, her senses completely focused on the slightest movement of his hips as he slowly entered her. She dug her heels into the mattress and lifted her hips toward him to pull him deeper. She was drenched with desire for him, but his ample size and her considerable run of self-inflicted celibacy made for a snug fit.
Her head was spinning and her body was on fire. He was inside her. She had to say it to herself a few times for it to register. She could feel his hips flex and then – Jesus Christ - he was all the way in. He didn't move at first, his eyes dancing over her face with wonder of his own.
"Good?"
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. "So good."
He braced himself on his elbows and took his first slow stroke. She exhaled as he withdrew almost all the way, then carefully pushed back in, thumbing her hair away from her face. Then he did it again. And again. And now her hips were moving, colliding with his as he filled her.
There were so many reasons to go slow. So he did. She approved. "Yeah El, like that. Let me feel it."
"Tell me what you want."
"I want it slow," she told him. "I don't want this to end."
She was only the second woman he'd ever been inside. Even if she hadn't been the one he'd been waiting for, this would have been a novelty on the most primal of levels. So while he wanted to freeze frame every look on her face and every sound that she made, he had to battle his mind to keep his body under control. She deserved a long ride.
She wrapped her hands under his arms and gripped his shoulders, using her grasp on him as leverage to thrust her hips up to his and pull him deliciously deeper into her. She was sure she was coming apart at the seams. He was everywhere. She could smell him, taste him. He was on her, inside her. She fought to keep her eyes open so she could see him. She didn't want to miss a thing.
He lifted himself off his elbows and onto his hands, separating his upper body from hers but giving himself room to swing and roll his hips. He wanted to hit every spot inside her. He watched her breasts sway under him and, if he looked down far enough, he could see himself sliding into her.
He pulled up onto his knees then and, gripping her hips, he wedged her knees into his armpits and delivered long strokes into her.
"Oh my God, harder," she said, louder now.
He sped up so his forward motions had more force. He rolled his hips, aiming the head of his cock inside her up toward her belly. She came undone, grasped for his arms and pulling her upper body flush against him so he could hold her through her orgasm. She pressed her face into his shoulder and rode out the waves, collapsing back on the bed as they subsided.
He lowered himself over her again and whispered in her ear as his hips moved. "I love you, Olivia."
He'd managed to get the words out before he was overcome with the force of his own release. He pushed one more time before his warmth filled her. He wanted to hold that last thrust forever, stay as deeply buried in her as possible. He stayed inside her, lifting his head off her shoulder to meet her eyes. They could only smile then.
"You know, I think that just may have been worth the wait," she said. "And it was a long wait."
"Yeah, Liv," he breathed. "Yeah it was."