AN: Well, I know it's been a long time since I've updated this and I do apologize. To be totally honest, I lost interest in writing this because I was reading such amazing post Smoked, pre Scorched Earth fics that I felt this was sub par. But, with that being said, I found my niche while starting "Cruz." I don't know if any of you are reading that as well, but if not, please feel free to check it out on svufiction and let me know what you think. I'm going to try and finish that one up before I continue this or Embers, which is on svufiction too. There's only going to be a few more chapters left of this, so, thanks for the amazing reviews thus far. I appreciate the support and hope all is well. Thanks for reading :)


If Walls Could Talk

Chapter 11

She's frozen in place.

He hasn't noticed she's watching him yet and that's good. It gives her time to turn around and flee back into the elevator if she so pleases. Just as she's about to do just that, she watches as his head pops up sensing her presence in that odd way they know one is around without having to see or hear them first. She trembles.

His back is pressed into the wall directly in front of her apartment door. His eyes are drooped low like he's been thinking about something long and hard. Her heart skips a beat. Swallowing against the dryness of her throat, she clears it and then raises her head, walking towards him slowly, hesitantly. Without saying a word, she looks him in the eye as she passes him and walks toward her door, pulling the keys out of her pocket while maneuvering her bag in her other hand.

Facing toward the door, she thanks him internally for coming to her because she's the one with problems now. Despite the feeling shock she had felt by seeing him for the first time in weeks a few moments ago, she quickly comes to realize that that initial loss of words will slowly dissolve into questions soon, she assumes because she knows she has some for him.

He's the one who left after shooting that girl, but she's the one suffering without him. He's here and her chest swells with overwhelming pressure.

She turns around abruptly and when she does, he's only inches from her face. "What are you doing here?" Her voice is low, thick with unshed emotion.

"Olivia..." he pleads but then he stops and looks off to the side. After a moment of hesitation he looks back to her with his hands in his own jacket pockets, glancing down at his shoes. "I don't know what I did exactly, but I'm sorry. I know I left, Liv. I know I've done things that I shouldn't have..." he trails off in a rapid succession of apologies. Something else is going on in his head too because she can read it in the pupils of his icy blue eyes. She's always been able to read him in ways no one else could.

Taken back by this line of conversation and not him asking her reasons for her actions in the recent past, she clears her throat to stop him. Everything is so fucked up. She's thinking about how she could have pissed him off that day in the car when he took her home, when suddenly the reason she was mad at him in the first place comes rushing back into her mind.

He had left her.

Suddenly, she's angry. But, it doesn't show because she's more relieved he's standing mere inches from her face. She can feel his heat radiate from beneath his clothes and she shivers.

"Elliot, don't..."

"No, Liv. I can't do this anymore..."

"Do what?" she pleads because really this whole time without him has been a learning experience. She's been learning to live without him finally. He needs to understand that he hurt her and now he needs to let her lick her wounds. "Do what, Elliot?"

"Live like this. I'm tired of waiting, I'm tired of watching, I'm tired of hurting too, Olivia!"

She swallows again and suddenly her heart is in her throat. Maybe he is talking about that day, she can't be sure, she needs things to be back like they were before between them. She needs to be on the same page as him.

She worries for a second that he might be drunk and she can't have that again, with anyone. A few seconds pass and she wonders if he's done talking, done sulking and ready to actually say something relevant and not all these vague sentiments she wishes like hell she understood because her heart is hammering against her chest right now.

Slowly, tentatively, she lowers her keys and bag, letting the weight of the purse fall to the ground. "Elliot, you're not making sense."

He's looking at the ground again and he shifts on his feet. "I don't know what I'm doin'-, " he trails off as he rubs the back of his head frustratingly.

"Elliot," she blurts out softly. There's no way around this now. She's just going to say it. They've never been good at this communication thing so what the hell. "You left me," she whispers as tears lace her voice. "You left me, Elliot. What the hell was I supposed to think when you didn't even answer my phone calls? Not even a text to let me know you were goddamn LEAVING for good!" she seethes. "So yea, I'm mad. I'm angry, but I can let it go if you just explain something to me."

He glances up quickly, his eyes downcast and red rimmed as if this is killing him as much as her. He sucks in his bottom lip and pulls out his hands from his pockets. With her back pressed against her apartment door, he can lean in and whisper to her in a hushed voice so she can't move and it makes her breath catch. His right hand lands on the wood surface of the door right next to her head as he leans in. His focus is set on her hands clasped against her chest as he speaks.

"I didn't mean it," his voice is low, melancholy. "I didn't want to hurt you too. I was a miserable bastard and I was only going to hurt you more if I stayed. If I had to call you Olivia, I would have hurt you. It's not an excuse I know... but I was trying to do something right. I've done it all wrong so far. I'm losing everything! I can't do that anymore. I need to let you know that before it's too late." He takes a deep breath and chances a glance up at her.

"Yea, I understand that. But why? I don't understand that. Why couldn't you talk to me? I was there!"

"Dammit, Olivia. It's not that simple. I'm sorry. You don't put what was going on in my mind on other people. I know you were there, I know that you understand things that I go through more than anyone else, but Liv. I'm telling you, I had no choice. I thought I was doing you a favor."

"And you know what, Elliot?"

He sighs and stands up straight, shifting his hand higher on the door. "What?"

"DON'T do me any favors! I felt like I had done something wrong. THAT was what hurt most."

She watches him deflate in front of her, like he's at a loss of what to do. This is the first conversation regarding it all and it's in the damn hallway of her apartment. He shakes his head sadly and wipes his mouth with the palm of his hand. "I'm sorry, I need you to forgive me, to understand. I know it's going to take awhile for you to understand my reasoning but I NEED you to not hate me. I couldn't take it," he trails off.

She feels her own eyes well up with tears but she can't feel anything from the way his voice numbs her. Very few times had she thought of what he might possibly be going through with everything that had happened. In the back of her mind she had know he could be suffering, hurting because of what he did. But now she knows and she can see in his eyes that he's lost something else. "I know, Elliot. I'm sorry too. It's hard you know?"

He nods. "Yea, I do," he says in a harsh whisper.

Silence overtakes the hallway and down the hall a door opens and an older woman with a can walks past them nodding. They both nod in turn as if nothing out of the ordinary is taking place instead of a life altering conversation that both so desperately need right now. When the older woman disappears into the elevator, Olivia swallows and huffs out a breath of air. Finally, she decides to clear the air.

"Elliot, I didn't mean to do that to you in the car. I shouldn't have... I wasn't thinking," she stops because really she was in to no capacity to think straight with the concussion and all that day. Also, she can't be mad at him. There's this deep feeling within for him, that connection that allows her to grasp what's going on inside of him. She'd lost that connection but it's slowly coming back as she feels his body heat shift in front of her again.

Yea, it hurt. He left her, but Jesus, this is Elliot. The man is a bastard sometimes but he does things for others. He's done it repeatedly over the years, for the victims, for the job, for his kids, his wife and for her. He's given so much of himself that he wants to make sure he's protecting everyone else too even if it hurts him in the process.

Suddenly that thought sears through her and she looks up and his head is turned away from her. His chest his trembling and her heart aches for him.

He turns back to her and shakes his head sadly. "I know I pushed you the other day too. I don't think, Liv. I'm sorry. I'm sorry,... " he says solemnly.

Despite the evening she'd had with Eric, the elation she'd finally felt again with him after what they'd been through, her heart aches longingly for the man in front of her. She drops her hands to her side and lets the purse handle go, allowing it drop to the ground.

She takes a deep breath and places the key in her pocket for now. Reaching for him, she hesitates before letting her hand drift toward his cheek. Her palm grazes the stubble on his skin and then her palm lands on his shoulder.

"Elliot," she breathes into him as she leans forward, her breath hitting the side of his face. He turns from her and her breath catches. A pang of hurt pulses through her chest and she can feel the tears well up behind her eyes from the rejection. "Elliot..." she pleads soflty.

Gripping his shoulder in her fingers, she tries to turn him toward her but he's shaking his head. "Don't... don't do that, Liv."

She's confused. "I don't understand."

"Don't confuse this as something when you're already involved." His voice is low and persistent in his own rejection she realizes.

"What?" It hits her square in the chest, his words are filtering into her mind but it's not registering.

"I left that a few days ago," he nods to her bag, the yellow envelope visible at the top.

She looks down, nodding. "Yea, I've been busy. I haven't had a chance to check my mail."

He nods as well. "I can tell."

She shakes her head in confusion. He's not making sense and she takes a deep, shuddery breath as she watches him run a hand across the back of his cropped hair cut.

"You can tell what?" she asks softly, worriedly.

He swallows and shifts on his feet again and places his palm lower on the door next to her head until it's mere inches from her shoulder. "You love him?" he whispers, barely audible in the hallway only accompanied by the slight buzzing of the over head light. The question isn't angry, hurt, accusatory or even territorial. It's friendly and it hurts a little and she's not sure why.

She takes another stealthy breath and runs a hand through her longer hair, and steps forward slightly. She's confused. Is he talking about Eric? Shaking her head, a little bit of nervousness overtakes her. "You following me?"

Her own question isn't angry, or annoyed, just curious and a little worried. She does NOT want Elliot to know about what has happened the past few months with Eric. She cannot handle Elliot's reaction to real reason behind the welp on her forehead the last time she saw him.

He lets out a small laugh and then catches her eyes as he peers down at her. Taking a deep breath, he adjusts his stance, placing his weight against the door. "No," he breathes into her space. "I saw you one day. Sounded like it was serious..." he trails off in a low voice, void of emotion. That's until his next words come out louder, stronger. "You didn't answer me..." he says matter of factly.

"Elliot, just now... you know I didn't mean to... You know I wouldn't jeopardize your..." she trails off as he places his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"Hey, hey... I know, Liv. I know. It's instinctual. I know you," he drawls out with a smile and it makes her feel better but not completely with the line of questioning this conversation has taken. After a few silent moments that have become the normal thing between them, she swallows and watches him look her in the eye and whisper almost sadly. "So?" he huffs as he places his palm back on the door and the other in his jean pocket.

Gulping for air she hadn't realized she was missing in her lungs, she looks off to her right and shuts her eyes tightly. In a low hum against the back of her throat, the words come. "Yea." It's a simple answer and she watches Elliot silently release a long rush of air from his lungs. "I did love him." She braces herself mentally for the words about to come out of her mouth, because she's now realizing they're true. "And no. It's not serious. It could've been though..." her voice trails off with a tinge of hurt and she purses her lips, looking away from Elliot's face not wanting to see his obvious joy at having her to himself again, if at all, she wonders.

It hurts sometimes thinking about how sure she'd been about Eric and how she thought she could marry him one day. But, after their ordeal, she just wants to be friends with him again. He's earned that much. Sleeping with again, that's pretty much out of the question.

Elliot's head bows in front of her and he scoffs a litte. She has a nagging worry in her stomach of what exactly that action means.

Is he happy she said that in past tense? Or is he telling her in no certain terms that he doesn't like it, like usual? She's not sure and it's making her uneasy.

She sees him look up then from the corner of her eye and when she turns her head to look back at him, his eyes aren't full of sorrow and anguish anymore as they had been a few moments ago, but filled with a relief? She can see him swallow and then he drops his arm from the door. Standing up straighter, he whispers. "What happened?"

She looks him in the eye and shakes her head. "Nothing... long story."

"Well, I have all night..." he offers half-heartedly. She's not sure what to make of that until she sees the briefest yet very apparent smile on his face. "Can we talk..." he nods toward her door. "In there?"

She hesitates slightly and sighs looking down at her hands. Nodding, she motions with her head and he steps to her side as she grabs her bag and reaches for her keys. "Yea, come in. It's getting late. I don't want the neighbors calling me to come talk to the people talking too loudly in the hallway," she jokes.

His smile is brighter this time and she can't rememeber the last time she saw him do that. It's endearing and she can't help but want to drop her bags again and wrap her arms around him tightly if only to keep that look on his face for a long time. If not forever. She's missed that with them. The easy banter, the jokes, them.

Realizing she's staring at him when he looks up and she hasn't turned around to unlock her door yet, she clears her throat and looks down to her pocket. Noticing that he hasn't budged either as his intense stare lingers on her face, she swallows hard as she searches her pocket for the key. "Sorry, I had the locks changed," she says using it as an excuse for her lack of mobility and simple action of putting her key in the key hole. Immediately, she sees the concern and edginess in his stance.

He smiles and nods a little before leaning against the wall as she inserts the key, opening the door. He follows her inside as she holds the door for him, simultaenously placing her belongings on the table just inside. Remembering her romp with Eric against the very same wall the table is against, she sighs. Her time with Eric is still fresh in her mind and she can't help worry that Elliot will see that stain on the carpet next to the couch where he's sitting.

She's not sure she can handle those kinds of questions tonight.

But he's her partner, it doesn't matter to her if they aren't physically working together anymore. They'll always be partners, best friends as long as she knows him. She can trust him. She trusts that he will know when and what to ask when they have this inevitable conversation that will elaborate on the one they were having outside. She makes a mental note to keep all conversation on him and not her problems. She just needs him.

...

An hour later, they're both sitting on the couch, the living room dim and the television on mute like she usually has it. He's relaxed on one corner of the couch, she on the other as they sip their drinks. She's drinking wine and he's got one of her left over beers from her fridge door. The mood is complacent and she wonders how all this time had passed with it feeling like this with him again.

It's a comfortable silence and the televsion flashes bright light across the surfaces of the room, causing dancing shadows over their perched forms on the couch.

She's the one to break the silence.

"How come you have all night? Is there something I should know?" she whispers, her voice slightly cracking at the notion he has some things he needs to tell her.

Gulping and setting his beer bottle down on the coffee table, he adjusts his position and then turns to face her, his eyes weary from what he's about to tell her.

"I don't have anywhere to be tonight."

She purses her lips expecting more and tilting her head to to the side. "That's not an answer," she says, her voice thick with moisture.

He sighs and leans his left elbow on the back of the couch as he stares down at her bent knee resting on the couch. His eyes then make their way to hers and he swallows thickly. Rubbing his forehead with his palm, he elaborates.

"I uh... it gets lonely."

Not understanding, she moves her back against the corner of the couch and then sets her glass of wine on the table next to his bottle. Shaking her head, she tries not to let it get to her that he's telling her what she thinks he is. So she lets him continue.

"My apartment is quiet. Not many neighbors and the ones I do have are all older folks," he pushes out all at once in a hurried explanation like the one earlier.

She takes deep breath and tries to regulate her breathing as he slowly explains that he's not living at home with his wife and kids but in an apartment. That can mean one of two things. His voice yet again interrupts her thoughts.

"It's better when the kids come by, it's not as quiet."

That's when she stands up, pushing her way to the kitchen to get some more wine. She can't believe it. He's not at home anymore and a part of her wants to drag his ass out of her apartment and take him to his wife so they can work it out, another part of her wants to run to him and squeeze his face in between her palms and tell him he doesn't have to be by himself. But, they've never been able to tell each other what they mean so she goes to the kitchen and comes back as he's raising the half empty beer bottle to his lips in concentration.

She's not going feel guilty for his failed marriage, she's not. She feels sad for him of course but she she's not going to feel guilty. He's had chances to save it, and if it hasn't worked... god she doesn't want to think about that right now. She wants to know when this all happened and if the shooting caused it. Jesus, he has been going through alot.

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long have you been living at your apartment?"

He thinks for a few seconds and then turns to look her in the eye. "I moved in about three months before the divorce was finalized." He stops and looks at her gauging her reaction as her breath catches.

Divorce? Assuming by the tone of his voice, it's real this time. Shaking hear head she turns toward the television and takes a sip of her wine. "How long ago was that?"

"Eight months ago."

She turns her gaze to him quickly. "What? Eight months ago? That was ..."

"I know."

"You moved out before the shooting?"

"Yea," he breathes out in a soft whisper.

"What happened?" she asks just as softly.

He shakes his head and leans back against the corner of her couch with a sad, forlorn look on his face.

"It was... after a fight we had, I realized I couldn't take it. I'm tired of the back and forth game. I'm getting too, old. My kids are getting to tired of this. I needed to do something..."

"A fight?"

"Yea, Liv. It was after that case where that little prick accused me of molesting him at booking and when Kathy found out about it, she went on a rant that day about how I was keeping things from her again. And to tell you the truth, I didn't care. I just... the way she talked to you on the phone, and knowing you understood me better than she did, it hit me. I needed out. I needed to make myself better to make everyone else better. You know I hadn't seen Eli in close to two weeks before that day. I felt like I didn't know my own son and I still felt like that when I was with him, I wasn't doing something right. It was the job, but it was somthing else too," his voice falters and dips low with emotion.

"Is that why after the few months of phone calls you started ignoring mine? You would have been only two months away from a full divorce the first time you called..." she trails off thinking about that time last year.

Sighing, he wraps his arm around the back of his head and drops his chin against this chest. "Yea, I was in the process when I called. I didn't want to worry you or tell you my problems. Liv, I know what this job does to people. I had to take care of things and I'm hoping it was for the best..."

Listening to him talk makes her chest swell with sadness yet elation that he's sitting with her, talking to her finally. "You did what you thought was right," she tries to console him from her corner of the couch.

His head pops up and he glares over at her. "Don't give me that," he throws out solemnly. He then bows his head and shakes it just as quickly. "I'm sorry, Liv. I didn't mean it, you're right" he softly says and it sounds like he's crying.

She doesn't say anything but put her glass down again and then move slightly to the middle of the couch. Once situated closer, she gently, wearily, places her hand on his jean covered thigh. She always loved when he wore jeans. Even now, she can't help but notice how much easier it is to touch him with that semblance of the past with him. "It's ok," she says softly as she rubs her palms upward a hair of an inch and then back down on his thick, muscular thigh.

"No, it's not. But you are right. I did the right thing. The more I think about it, I can finally say it. It's just ... I did it too late. About five years too late. I love my son, but I still mess up with him."

She doesn't say anything but look up to him as he scratches his upper lip with his thumbnail. She watches as he suddenly realizes she's touching him, staring at her hand running small up and down patterns on his thigh.

He shifts nervously and then stills as he realizes that he's content with her right now. He needs her to listen and that's what she's doing. They need each other right now. They'd needed this months ago, only just now getting it.

Long silence permeates the darkened living room as late evening sets upon them. Only the bright glow of the television lights up the air around them. She glances at him and his eyes are half closed with his head turned half way toward the television just relaxing.

Her hand continues it's soothing pattern on his leg and she's not sure why she hasn't stopped but she can't stop touching him. It feels too good to do so. Suddenly, she remembers the yellow package in her bag and feels a wave of affection for him wash over her like never before.

She stops her ministrations on his thigh and wipes a tear she hadn't realized had escaped. "Thank you for the package. I love it, Elliot."

He looks to her and his eyes are round pools of moisture as well. He nods and his mouth contorts into a sad smile as he reaches for her hand on her own thigh. He places his palm under hers and squeezes tightly at first then eases up and squeezes it gently, never taking his eyes off of their conjoined hands. "You're welcome, Liv. It's true."

She watches thier hands in awe and tilts her head in wonderment at how far they've come in a few short hours after absolutely not understanding how they could treat each other the way they had. Now, here they are holding hands. She, Olivia, is holding Elliot's hand in her darkened apartment. It's surreal yet right in her mind. It feels good, really good to touch him.

"What's true?" she asks quietly.

He laughs softly then turns serious. "You're not usually like this," he says slowly, his voice low a drum. "I can tell I've hurt you, you've never questioned me as much as you have tonight. I'm sorry I damaged your trust," he says in a shuddery breath.

She tightens her grip on his hand. "No, you haven't. I just can't think straight right now, but that's good. It means I'm not feeling like I was. It's because we're talking." she says with a tearful smile.

He nods, "Yea, I think so."

The silence lingers between them again for long moments until then he breaks it this time. "Forever faithful, that's what I meant," he whispers. "It's true, Liv. I'll always be faithful to what we have, whatever it is," he softly laughs into the darkness.

She closes her eyes and when she opens them, she looks at him and he's staring back, the neon lights of the television flowing across the stubble of his face, reflecting a deep, intense stare toward her. His eyes are strong, slightly narrowed and dark with heavy emotion.

The feeling the look in his eyes elicits from her, frightens her. A sudden urge to cry hits her. She wants to cry but another emotion pulls at her as she stares back at him with the light of the television flickering over his face. Subconciously, she lets go of his hand only briefly as she scoots closer to him from her position on the center cushion. Once her thigh bumps his knee, she stops and looks at him. "Me too," she purses her lips and stares at him from only a few inches away.

Her breath catches as his right hand raises from his side and sweeps her hair from her face as his other hand braces his weight against the back of the couch. "I mean it," he whispers next to her ear as he leans toward her. His hands sweeps across her forehead and pushes the hair from her face as she looks up to him with only what she assumes are glossy eyes. She wants to put her hand ontop of his, but she's frozen from his touch.

She's always wanted him touch her for different reasons, just to know he cared or to just feel another human touch.

At that thought, at the rememberance of what they've said and revealed to each other, she gives in. She places her hand over his hand that's plastered to her temple and holds it there, watching his eyes close from the contact. Her eyes follow suit as she revels in the touch of his hand against her skin and the way his thumb rubs her index finger. She can't help it as another tear escapes and runs down her cheek. "I missed you," she whispers almost inaudbily.

She thinks he may have not heard her when he doesn't say anything for long moments. That's until, she feels the warmth of his hand leave her skin. She's disappointed for a brief second until she feels him tugging her arm and pulling her body toward his.

His hands skim her sides and run down the expanse of her back until his arms enclose around her torso. Before she realizes it, she's being pulled halfway into his lap. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his neck and breathes against the skin found there. Closing her eyes, she just revels in the smooth texture of his skin, of his scent. He smells like Old Spice and it makes her grin. She loves the way he smells no matter what he wears.

As she rests there, kneeling on the couch in front of Elliot, wrapped in his arms, she silently cries as he rubs small patterns across her back with his fingertips. Eyes closed tight, she revels in his touch and the sound of his voice as he whispers in a soothing tone. "I missed you too. More than you know."

Breathing into his neck, she adjusts her stance on her knees after long moments pass. Elliot notices her position and leans back against the arm of the couch. "Sorry, I'll let you back over to your side."

But she doesn't let go. "I don't want to let go," she mumbles into his neck.

"Then don't," he mumbles back with his mouth pressed against her hair. She then feels him move beneath her, his arms pulling her body flush against the hard planes of his chest as he scoots them both to a laying position. She feels his heart beat against hers as she stares at him. "What're you doin'?" she asks with partially raised eyebrows.

"Just getting comfortable," he says raising his brows in turn.

She laughs softly and adjusts herself atop of him. "You know," she sniffles, "I wasn't expecting this."

He smiles down at her as she looks up. "What?"

"Cuddling."

He shakes his head with a devious smile. "This isn't cuddling, Liv. Cops do not cuddle."

Shaking her head with a smile, she rests her head on his chest and shifts her back against the back of the couch so she's not laying completely on him but resting comfortably against his side. "I don't cuddle, El. But, I think this is pretty close to cuddling we'll ever get."

His chest rumbles under her head as he laughs into the night. He reaches for the remote and points to the television. "You watching that?"

Shaking her head no, she feels him raise the remote and turn the television off, the room basking in a soft glow from the streetlamps outside. The gold and silver streaks splay across their legs and she yawns at the sight, "You staying?"

"Mmm," he mumurs as adjusts beneath her. "Like I said, I don't have anywhere else to be. You mind?"

She shakes her head no again as she feels his hand creep up her back and splay palm first against the back of her neck, just under her hairline. It makes her shiver and her eyes droop low from the warmth seeping from his rough hand tickling her nape.

Slowly, lazily, she raises her hand against his chest and runs it up to his neck and back down. Rubbing half circles against his clothes chest, she whispers. "I don't mind at all. You can sleep right here. I'll go get you some blankets," she starts to move not wanting to remove her hand from him because of the new found ability to touch him so freely, easily.

As she starts to get up, he grips her neck more firmly, keeping her from moving. "Stay," he breathes soflty.

She does.

Her eyes lock with his as his head raises off the arm of the couch and his free arm placing one of the small pillow behind him at the same time. With a more elevated position for his head, he stares her in the eyes as she lays against his side.

Nodding, she grabs the throw and places it over their bodies. Checking one last time that he's sure about this, she glances at him and her her chest constricts once again. The pressure in her chest this time feels like ball of energy filled with electric intensity she's never felt before.

He's staring at her in the barely lit room, only able to find his gaze in the darkness because of the lone street lamp right outside her apartment window. His hand stills on her neck and raises higher to the back of her head as he leans his down. Her breath stops coming all together when he leans his head closer and closer til his lips are inches from hers. "G'night."

"G'night," she chokes out.

With that, he gently rubs his lips across hers in a feather light touch as her eyes roll back in her head from the sensation. He gently swipes his lips left to right and vice versa, sending chills down her spine. She wants to cooperate but she can't function with the feel of his lips brushing hers so intimately. He then puts slight pressure against her lips with his own, letting the kiss linger for a few seconds. After a few moments pass, his lips let up and he lays back down against the pillow.

She reaches up and runs her hands over his left cheek quickly before resting it by her side. Jesus Christ. Her breaths are silent pants into the darkness. She's surprised she can breathe at all.

They don't say anything for the rest of the night as the silence of the night overpowers them both, only the traffic of New York City playing in the background on constant repeat.

She lets her head rest against his heart as the soft beat lulls her into the dark abyss of near sleep. She feels him fall asleep first as his breaths even out and all she can think about before she succumbs as well, is the feeling of his mouth pressed against hers and the way he'd done it, so nonchalantly, dreamily, fulfillingly. She smiles in the dark for a split second before closing her eyes.

There's nowhere else she'd rather be at this moment.