A/N: A Christmas spent alone is not necessarily sad.

DISCLAIMER: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf, this story, however, belongs to TStabler

"It is really coming down out there," Olivia mutters, staring out the cabin window. She lifts her hand to the glass, and she smiles as she swipes hearts and initials in the frost.

Elliot sneaks up behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and offering her a cup of hot cocoa. "My little artist," he teases, kissing her cheek.

She drops her head to his shoulder and sips the steaming chocolate. "I never got to doodle on the windows when I was a kid," she says. "My mother would freak out about fingerprints and…it was just better not to give her a reason to yell."

He kisses her forehead. "You can doodle on anything you want," he says to her. "There's a maid, here." He laughs and sips his own cocoa, then pulls her away from the window and toward the fireplace. He eases her down onto the soft, thick carpet and gets her settled in the divot between his legs.

She sighs as she leans back against his chest, and she smiles. "That tree is adorable," she says. "Perfect for…"

"Just the two of us," he finishes for her, sipping from his mug again. "Thanks," he says, putting his hot cup down. He guides it far enough away from him to avoid knocking it over if he moves.

"For what?" she asks, tilting her head to look at him.

He shrugs and begins to rub her shoulders. "Coming up here with me," he says. "It's not easy spending Christmas without the kids. I wanted to get out of the city altogether, and you…you were packed and ready before I even told you where we were going."

She laughs. "Christmas without you isn't Christmas at all, El," she tells him, returning her gaze to the crackling fire before them. "Spending it alone, away from the craziness of the city, it sounded nice." She shrugs and says, "It's very nice." She lets her eyes wander over the two embroidered stockings hanging on the mantle, and her eyes glimmer with wonder at what might be hidden in hers.

"It is," he says. "We don't have to worry about anyone hearing us." He chuckles and kisses the back of her head, and he rubs a little harder on her shoulders. "Or seeing us," he whispers.

"That feels so good," she moans, her head dropping a bit.

He smirks, and he tilts his head. He kisses across the back of her neck, then up the side of it. He listens to her soft moans as he licks behind her ear, then catches her earlobe in his mouth, and he sucks on it.

"Oh, my God," she breathes, the empty mug in her hands dropping and rolling away. Her fingers try to grasp at the carpet, but the fibers slip through them and she's left unstable. "El, baby, you need to…"

Knowingly, he pushes her to the left a bit, and he wraps her legs around his waist as he flattens out his body. He holds her down to him as he kisses the tops of her shoulders and toys with the red sweater she's wearing.

She's growing impatient, too, and pulls at the wool, joining his hands in an effort to get the top off of her. She has to sit up, and it bothers her to pull away from his kisses. She moans, yanking the red sweater off over her head.

He growls slightly as he watches her throw it behind her, his hands running over the muscles of her stomach. His eyes dart there, then, and he groans in appreciation and arousal as his fingers trace the lines of her abs. His hands move lower, he fingers the button on her jeans.

"What are you doing?" she asks, seeing the dangerous look in his eyes. "El, you…"

He stops her words when he yanks on the denim, pulling it over her hips. He looks up at her and taps her thigh, telling her to rise up a bit. "Atta girl," he teases when she pushes herself up enough for him to pull the jeans down over her ass.

She laughs as he kisses her legs, pulling the material off of them one by one, and she shakes her head at him when he tosses them toward her discarded sweater. She sees the look on his face, and she smirks. "You're not the only one who likes to go commando every once in a while," she says to him.

"Makes my job easier," he says in return, and his hands fly to her hips again. He pulls, earning a gasp from her, and he has a firm grip on her ass. His face is mere centimeters from her sex, and he looks up at her as he lifts his head just a bit.

"Sweet Jesus," she murmurs, and she finds the irony in using such a phrase on Christmas Eve, but it fits. Her knees, one on either side of his face, tense as he licks her, and she's paralyzed by the sight she's looking down upon. It's a new angle for her, and she can't help but rock her body, her hips grinding deeper over his working lips and tongue. Her eyes watch it all happen, and her heart thuds fast and hard.

He grunts and moans as he gears up into her, sliding his tongue through her wet folds, then he pulls his head back a bit. He stares up at her, seeing the wonton look in her eyes, and he winks as he starts flicking his tongue over her clit.

Her head flies back and she yells, "Fuck, El!" She has one hand on the carpet beside them and the other on his chest, pressing her fingertips into his muscles beneath his sweater.

He moans, his tongue working harder, his eyes glued to hers, and he can't believe how much better she tastes when he can see how much she's enjoying it.

"Shit," she spits out, moving the hand from the carpet to his forehead. Her body shudders with a small wave of electricity, but she fights it. "El, not yet," she barks, pushing him away from her, forcing his head down into the rug. She ignores the confusion and slight irritation on his face and slides down his chest. She unzips his jeans, slowly, her narrow eyes seem to challenge his.

"Oh, holy…night," he garbles, his hands now tangled in her hair.

"Cute," she scoffs, pulling him free from the silk boxers and rough denim. She holds his length in her hand, not moving up his shaft, and she slowly swirls her tongue around his tip. She knows what it does to him, and it excites her.

"Oh, you little…" he grunts, and he bucks his hips, trying to get more of him into her mouth, but she won't budge. "Fuck, baby," he moans, his eyes stuck open, watching her. He glares hard at her as she flicks her tongue lightly against the very tip of him, and he shakes his head. "Evil," he mumbles.

She chuckles, finally sliding her mouth over him, and the cry of relief and moan of pleasure that hits her ears makes her even wetter than his mouth had. She slides up, down, torturously slow and deep. She pulls herself off of him and licks him once before easing back up his body.

As she moves , he kicks off his pants and huffs. He tugs off his sweater and throws it, not caring where it lands or what it hits, his only concern is that his skin meets hers as soon as possible. He smiles up at her as she looms over his face with a menacing look in her eyes. "You still think I don't pay attention when you talk?" he asks, his fingers grazing up her back. "This is what you had in mind when you told me…"

She bends her head and kisses him, silencing him. The essence of her is on his lips and tongue and it melds with the flavor of him in her own mouth. She moans as she slides her slickness along his hardness, coating him. "You always listen to me," she whispers, her lips moving against his. "That's one of the reasons I fell in love with you."

He runs his hands down to cup her bare bottom, and he stills her motions as he pushes into her only slightly. "What are the other reasons?"

"You've got an amazing ass," she whispers as she bites at his bottom lip.

"Oh," he grins, pushing into her a bit more. "Is that all I'm good for?"

She moans, her head drops to his, and she says, a bare whisper, "Absolutely not."

And with her words, the mood shifts. His eyes soften, and he holds her tight as he flips them over. He stares down at her, watching the flickering orange glow of the fire bathe her in a soft tint.

"What?" she asks, her eyes boring into his.

He shakes his head and kisses her. "Just wondering how I got lucky enough to not only have you in my life, but to keep you."

She let silence pass between them, then she kisses him. "Keep me?"

His eyes shoot to her stocking, and he smiles. "Yeah," he nods, looking back at her. "Can I keep you?"

"You don't even have to ask," she smiles, kissing him again.

Their sex is postponed, just for a minute, as they kiss, their bodies simply pressing into one another, their hearts pounding against their chests in perfect sync.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he whispers, pushing his way into her all the way.

She moans, turning her head and pressing her lips together, feeling the pleasure ripping through her. Her eyes open, then, and she sees the window. It's fogged up again, but her doodled heart is still visible, their initials still etched into the frosted glass. She smiles, and twists her head back toward Elliot. "Merry Christmas," she responds, wrapping her arms around him.

Outside, the snow falls harder, and builds up higher, blocking the door and the driveway. Not that they plan on leaving anytime soon. Snowed in, alone, on Christmas, they are content, closer than they have ever been, and happier than they'd ever imagined they could be.

A/N: Next: A gift from a secret admirer sends Elliot into a fit of jealous rage, but why?