Hi, all! *smiles sheepishly* I know it's been, umm, a long time since I updated this but I was feeling in a really Christmasy mood, no a REALLY good Christmasmy mood so yeah, you'll find that out by the end of this chapter, and so I decided to update this one. I actually know what I'm writing next so I HOPE TO GOD, have the next part up soon.

Oh, and I've never had a beta for this, so I apologize wholeheartedly for any typos, etc. I missed. Thanks for the wonderful reviews and MERRY Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone. :)

If Walls Could Talk

Chapter 12

The air is tight and the night is silent all but for the lazy moans and shrill cries of apartment doors closing and opening up and down the hallway.

The taxis outside on the streets still chime past and send swishing noises through the cracks and crevices of the building window's even though it's broaching on the early morning hours.

Down the hall, a faint buzzing cascades though the open slit of the occupant's door and it makes him feel chilled and he's not exactly sure if it's the cool night air or his nerves.

He takes a cigarette out of his flannel shirt pocket and lights it as it dangles from his pursed lips.

The faint orange glow from the tip burns his eyes as he takes a puff and swallows thickly into the dim hallway.

Across the hall, he watches the door. It stands closed but he sees right through it. Sees what isn't his anymore.

But he realizes that it's useless for him to deny that he really doesn't care. What's behind that door used to be his and the thought that it isn't anymore and that he's been thrown away, doesn't anger him.

It fuels him.

He takes a deep puff of his cigarette and puts it out on the thin carpeting. A dark brown circle singes the material just like what he's about to do is going to singe a hole in what's happening behind that door.

He may have been a fuck up and and he may have some problems, but he doesn't get "thrown away."

That's what he does. But she's different.

If she wants to play this game and use her shield to disway him, she's got another thing coming.

Straightening his back, he runs a sweaty palm down the back of his newly shaved head. He had made quick work of the growing shag as soon as he could after his friend had been questioned by her and that colored man.

He scoffs.

She's got all kind of men scurrying around her, waiting on her. Well he'll show her and they'll all see what she really is.

Especially him.

The him he knows is in there right now, breathing in the air he had breathed the nights he'd been the one in there with her, touching her, having her.

Cracking his neck to the right, he opens his brown leather jacket and pulls out a small yellow envelope and skims his fingers down the rough paper, feeling the outline of the rectangular object inside.

Oh he had her. Often.

He licks his lips slowly and closes his eyes remembering all the encounters they had and lets his body drop back against the wall in the hallway filled with muffled sounds from end to end. His mind wanders to the moment when he didn't care about finding out what she knew about him but caring about who she was.

He's a fucker, but he wants her now. Probably more than ever. He'd been blinded by trying to woo her and find out what the NYPD had on him through her to "really" care. But he has eyes and she had been in his grasp and now she's not.

But it's okay. A little rummaging around the internet had him finding out exactly what he needed to know ontop of what he had known already about her.

If things go to plan, she'll be coming his way in no time he thinks as he clutches the yellow envelope in both hands while slowly moving his feet toward her apartment door.

The air relaxes around him a bit as he bends down and places the package against the door, the noiseless room on the other side prompting him.

But it won't be for long.

As he stands back up and starts to walk away, a trace of a smile forms on his lips. He glances down feeling absolutely stricken with victory as he reads his own writing on the top of the envelope:

To: Elliot Stabler

She's a wild one.

...

He feels her shift against him and in a few tries, he pries his eyes open, looking down at her sprawled form across his chest. Her wavy brown hair cascades across his clothed torso and her right hand rests next to her cheek.

Reaching down, he brushes a few strands away from her face and immediately sees she's still sound asleep.

They must've moved around in their sleep because her legs are now intertwined with his when her back and body had been pressed against the couch to start off with.

He cranes his neck and checks the clock next to her couch and it glares back at him in green neon numbers 6:10 a.m.

Dropping his head back down onto the couch pillow, he looks back down at her.

It's been months since he's seen her. Really seen her. And right now, so many emotions are coursing through him.

They had kissed last night. He kissed his former partner. The thought of the act alone and then the feeling of her warmth and softness against his body sends him into realization.

He shifts slightly and as he does so, her head pops up slightly and all thoughts of the situation at hand go out the window when she speaks in a low, husky voice still filled with sleep.

"Am I too heavy?"

He laughs at the sound of her voice and the fact he may be a little more than turned on from their position so he hooks a finger through her hair, to distract her and himself.

"Nah, I was just... stretching."

"Ok," she smiles as he watches her eyes close but he knows she's not going to go back to sleep anymore than he is. "I have to get up in a few minutes anyways. It's just so comfy right here," she continues and her voice slowly fades out.

He swallows thickly as she nuzzles her nose into his chest before placing her forehead on his chest and pushing herself up with arms on each side of his torso.

"You ever think about using one of those things called vacation days?" he jokes with a groggy smile.

As she sits up on her knees, stopping mid motion to get off the couch, he can't help but notice the position it leaves her in as she straddles him.

She yawns and hesitantly locks eyes with him with a small smile of her own.

"No work and all play makes Jack a dull boy, Elliot. You know that," she grins as she bends down to maneuver her leg over his upper thighs.

Before she gets far, he doesn't know why he does it, but he does and pulls her by her arm until her ass is planted squarely on his lap. Pulling her toward him with all joking aside, he takes in the startled expression on her face as he moves his inches from hers.

"That's not how the saying goes, Liv."

Her eyes narrow and he can see her grin slowly appear just as his does and this flirtatious thing their doing is so new yet so subtle at the same time like they have been doing it forever.

He gently lets her go and she sits back up on her knees, still straddling his lap.

"Elliot, you know I can't function unless I'm working. Let alone trying to function when I leave the precinct."

"Yea, I know," he smiles up at her as she places a strand of her own hair behind her ear. He takes a deep breath and instantly he feels her shift on top of him and a slight awkwardness bombards them because of their position.

Olivia places her hands on her bents knees as she bites the inside of her lower lip.

"I know this is kind of an awkward topic of discussion but I need to know, El," she starts.

He shifts once again until she moves off of him and to the cushion his legs vacate as he sits next to her on the couch.

"What exactly?"

"I need to know what this is," she continues. "What last night and ... right now, is about."

She chances a glance at him from the corner of her eye and he catches her eyes for a split second before she lets her body fall against the back of the couch. He watches her fiddle with her fingers as he tries to come up with why things had happened the way they had in the last twelve hours.

He needed to see her. He needed to let her know what was going on in his life and to know what was going on in hers. And things just happened. It's as simple as that. He felt free for the first time and he took an opening.

She was there and he'd never felt more free than he did last night, finally letting it all out and having her there for him as she normally would.

How can he put that into accurate words for her so she understands?

"Olivia, I don't mean to spring anything on you. I just, there was nowhere else I could do this."

Immediately, she sits back next to him and searches his eyes for what he suspects is a more in depth meaning.

"Nowhere to ... do... what exactly? I waited for you to let me know how everything was going and well, you never did."

"Wait, a second. Olivia that's not what I meant. I know you were there. I don't want to get into that again. I fucked up alright. I fucked up by not letting you in. I didn't let anyone in remember?"

He's half shouting and he recognizes immediately how she recoils back into the sofa, biting her bottom lip and staring down at her crossed arms.

"I know. I'm sorry. I know..." she repeats.

With a heavy sigh, he continues. "I mean, I needed you, only you last night. You're the reason I'm sitting here 'functioning' right now. I'm sorry it took so long, but I tried to explain it last night. I guess I failed."

She takes a deep breath behind him and moments later he feels her thimble fingers grasp onto his shoulder as she pulls herself level with him again.

Without saying a word, and slightly startling him, she places her palms on each of his cheeks and turns him to face her, locking eyes with his and taking shallow breaths. They stare at each other for a few moments, the air thickening with tension as they breath in synchronized breaths within their close proximity.

It takes the refrigerator buzzing to life to break their trance and that's when Olivia drops one hand to her lap while the other still grasps softly at his cheek that is delicately lined with his new 4 o'clock shadow.

He hears her swallow thickly and then watches as her eyes slowly rise to meet his again. "What are we going to do now?" she asks softly.

"I think you said you needed to get ready for work," he offers impishly.

Her eyes narrow. "You know what I mean."

Puffing out a breath of air, he reaches hesitantly for her hand in her lap. He's never done this before. In twenty plus years of marriage, not once did he think he'd ever have the chance to start over fresh and be with someone new yet familiar all in the same. He never gave himself second thoughts on what to do if he ever had that chance with anyone, especially Olivia.

Often than not, he was cold towards her to ward off any thoughts in that direction. It was his mechanism. He knew they were too close and that if he just let down his guard for even a split second with her, he'd find himself lost within her.

So to prevent it, he vowed to never let it happen. He was married. He had married at a young age because of a horny teenage tryst, but he had vowed then as a teenager and later on a as a grown man to make up for his fuck ups by doing at least one thing right. And though he'd fucked up most things in his life, he hadn't totaled his marriage completely and that was his salvation for everything else.

For being a shitty father, for being a shitty son, for knocking up his high school girlfriend, for disappointing his father, for failing to do everything he had imagined doing as a young man.

But once he had met Olivia, he felt that he had a chance to be something again even if he was failing miserably everywhere else. He felt that he was something again. He could feel that he was something to her and that brought new life into his disposition.

His marriage had failed anyways because of he and his wife. It was never Olivia. If he's honest with himself, he let Kathy down because he began falling apart before he even met Olivia.

It was involuntary but it happened.

So as he squeezes her hand, all that he can say escapes.

"This is hard for me you know. Liv. I don't say the right things, I find myself on the losing end of conversations more times than not because I don't know what I'm doing. I have five kids who I love with all my heart and an ex-wife I loved for twenty-five years, but in all this, this... this here is the only thing I know what I'm doing. I just don't know..."

She cuts him off.

"Elliot..." she breathes out with a catch in her breath. "You don't know what..." she trails off.

"I just don't know how to not mess this up. With, with you."

She takes in a long, deep breath and then purses her lips. He turns around and simultaneously places his elbows on his knees with is head in his palms. He probably just fucked up again but insinuating what he had. It's been months of not talking to her and now he wants to move to the next level with her.

He's so stupid he realizes as he slaps his palms against the side of his head a few times. He feels her smaller, softer hands grasp his and he turns into it as she pulls him into a hug, her only way of calming him down in this moment he realizes.

"God, Elliot," she seethes but without anger. "I've needed you so much these past months you asshole. But I got by, don't you know that?," she whispers as she lets go of him so her hands trail down his arms. "God, Elliot. I got by but I still... just needed..." she rambles on as a chill slices through him from just her touch. "So you actually being here, I don't know how you're messing anything up... It never..."

He doesn't know where it comes from or why exactly why he does it, but he's tired of letting things boil inside of him, stay trapped inside of him, so he plunges forward and grasps the back of her neck, pressing his mouth against hers to quiet her.

Her body instantly tenses beneath his grasp but eventually loosens as moves his lips against hers. His mind is racing with thoughts of what they're doing again. Of what this all means. He's needed her too. He's needed her so much over the years that all in all, he realizes they are the perfect cliche.

This is Olivia. He kissed her last night. They kissed each other. It was simple then but right now, it's feels like so much more when he feels her fall back against the sofa, her hands simultaneously tugging at his shoulders.

This is Olivia. The woman who was off-limits for so long. This is Olivia the woman who was his partner. This is Olivia, the woman who had taken his heart along time ago and sealed it away with lock and key while he had been desperately searching all over hell and earth for it while still having her back as just her partner.

Now as he bends down over her, lips still tangled with hers, he knows that this was supposed to happen. They're two people in their forties who have found that person who they thought never existed. He can feel the truth of the matter in the way her fingers skim his neck and jaw and then the back of his head as he starts to trail his lips down her neck and down her throat.

He barely registers her soft voice as he skims his palms down her sides and over her hips. His lips skim her upper chest as her low, husky voice makes her skin reverberate against his mouth.

"I can't lose you anymore," she softly whimpers as his hands push her shirt up her abdomen.

Leaning down, his eyes catch hers before his lips latch onto her navel, licking and laving the delicate indentation in her skin. She cries out softly as his hand reaches under her shirt and delicately grasps her right breast in his hand.

She makes him feel out of control. In control. She makes him feel like he's out of his body, out of his mind and still makes him feel in desperate need for more.

She's freeing him and containing everything in him at the same time. She's all intoxicating smells, tastes and touches and as her hands trail down his back grasping at his shirt tucked inside his pants, he knows, he knows this has been what life had been made for.

His abdomen quivers at the thought and as the cool air of the apartment washes against his heated skin, he reaches down and pulls at her pants until he has her sprawled before him with only her shirt on which is hiked up beneath her breasts. He watches as she bites her lower lip while he tugs on his own pants.

Her chest heaves up and down, pupils dilated as she watches him move above her. He can see the relief in her eyes just as much as their reflection shows his.

They're moving fast but the whole process of getting here has been the longest fucking revolution through time and space he thinks any human being has ever gone through.

They've waited and now they've arrived.

He bends down and whispers in her ear as sensually as he can.

"All work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy."

As he leans back up to kiss her on the lips, he watches at her dark brown deepen and fill with desire.

"Fuck work," she whispers as he presses his body down onto hers and slowly grinds down capturing her answering whimper with his lips and mouth.

He pushes his arms beneath her back and instinctively her legs rise and latch around his hips as he nuzzles his face against her neck.

Slowly, he nudges her opening with his erection, not pushing the boundary quite yet and he can feel her patience with him just by the soft skimming of her nails down his neck and upper back, the lazy circles tingling his skin causing his eyes to droop low.

Quietly, he looks down and she's staring at him with lazy eyes and a dream like trance gracing her features as she mouths something and just as he's about to ask her what it is, he sees the syllables as plain as day.

Elliot. El-liot.

He then places his forehead against hers and closes his eyes as her hands fall from his back to his waist. The warmth of her palms sends pleasure signals throughout his whole body causing him to react.

He slides home then. Her fingers leave traces of fire on his skin and he can't help but roll his hip backwards slowly and plunge forward with pure desire, gliding so effortlessly, sheathed inside her heat. He watches her head drop back, mouth agape and thinks he could die from the picture she paints below him.

She was designed for this, designed for him, he'd like to believe. She pulls so much out of him only making him want her to put even more back into him.

He wraps himself around her and whispers soft reassurances in her ear as he moves his lower body in a gentle cadence with hers. She meets him halfway each time, swaying with him, panting against his shoulder and running her palms over every inch of skin she can reach and that alone almost sends him over the edge.

He hears a breathy whimper escape from her lips as he digs his knees into the cushions and roll his hips forward and back, forward and back, again and again, causing the moist friction to drift through the air with each slap of their skin. "Never stop," she moans as her nails dig into the skin of his back.

The pleasure in her voice, the relief, triggers his need as well.

So he doesn't.

...

tbc