Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.
"Undercover stint last year," Olivia said, curling paper lunch bags over top and handing one to each kid. "I was faking a pregnancy to catch a...bad guy," she blinked and looked at Maureen. "The man took us to an italian restaurant and, playing the part, I ordered…"
"Chicken piccata with hot sauce and fried zucchini," Kathleen said with a triumphant air of realization. "That's why Dad said…"
"Yes," Olivia said, interrupting with a laugh. She smoothed a hand over Maureen's head, kissing the girl's cheek. "There's the reason. Your father and I haven't been having kids without your knowledge. This one..." she pointed to her belly. "The first one. Just, uh, don't tell your father that." She made a wide-eyed face and shook her head, rubbing noses with the eleven- year-old.
The kids gave a chuckle and Dickie shrugged. "Bye, Mom." He climbed up on a chair to kiss Olivia on the cheek and grabbed his bookbag, heading out the door to meet his uncle by the truck.
"Uh, well, thanks, Mom," Kathleen lifted her lunch bag and shook it a bit. "It's official now, right? You're married?" She looked on as Olivia nodded and then did as her brother had done and kissed her cheek. Before she moved away, though, she asked, "You're taking him to the doctor, right?"
Olivia closed her eyes and bit her lip, nodding again at the girl who was now, as she stated, officially her daughter. "If I can get him out of bed."
Kathleen looked up the stairs, her eyes glowing with worry for her father and the headache that wouldn't go away. Sighing, she walked out of the kitchen and through the living room, making it out the door just as Nathan honked the horn.
Olivia turned her attention toward Lizzie and Maureen, then, and tapped her fingers on the counter. "Are you two going to school? If you're not, there's a mountain of laundry in there that I'm certainly not going to touch."
"We're going," Maureen said with a light laugh, clutching her binder a bit closer to her chest. "I just...there's something that's been bugging me. Us," she jerked her head to the side, in Lizzie's direction.
"You're both too young to wear makeup," Olivia told them in a manner betraying that the conversation had been had more than once.
"Not that," Lizzie said, rolling her eyes to showcase her seven-year-old dramatics. "You haven't named the baby!"
Olivia looked down at the sweet little girl and she cupped her chin gently. "Sweetie, we don't know if it's a boy or a girl, yet. I guess, uh, we'll pick a name when we find out."
Maureen whined and stomped her foot. "Not fair!" She whipped her braid a bit as she huffed. "We're just so excited, and it seems rude to just keep calling it 'the baby,!"
Olivia laughed over the sound of Nathan's impatient horn-honk and kissed Maureen's nose. "Why don't the two of you think of a nickname, then? Something you could call the baby, no matter what it is."
Maureen and Lizzie shared an intrigued gasp and then ran through the house before their uncle could honk the horn again.
Laughing to herself, Olivia walked over to the door, closed and locked it, and then turned to lean back against it. As she looked around the living room, she realized how much it had changed since Elliot's accident. Not just wiping any trace of Kathy from existence, but the furniture itself. Elliot had spent Sundays after church painting and fixing wobbly legs. What couldn't be repaired or refinished was simply replaced. The couch was reupholstered, and the ratty armchair that followed Elliot into the house from his childhood bedroom was finally laid to rest, giving way to a leather chaise lounger.
She took a few steps toward the large, comfortable cushion, loving how it had become "their" spot. Whenever the family spent any time in the room, Elliot would wrap himself around her, flatten them out on the chaise, and hide them under a huge, soft blanket. It didn't matter if they were watching a movie or simply keeping the kids company while they finished homework, it had become habit, one she hoped would never be broken.
"Hey, beautiful," Elliot's groggy voice called to her from the bottom of the stairs. He walked over to her, his bare feet sinking into the carpet, and pulled her into his arms. He moved with her, rocking her and trickling his hands down her body until he was cuping her ass with both palms. He started humming, then, making it clear he was dancing with her. He let his lips press into whatever skin they landed on, her neck, her chin, her shoulder, her ears. "What time's our meeting with Novak?" he sang to her, not willing to let the moment go.
A soft moan eked out of her as he kissed her neck again. "Eleven-thirty," she groaned. He was biting at her neck now, driving her mad with need. "Thought you had a headache."
"Went away," he mumbled with a bit of her flesh in his mouth. He licked a trail up to a spot behind her ear while his hands grabbed the cotton of her black pants and yanked down hard, but he whined against her lips when they didn't fall away as he'd hoped. "Fucking zipper," he garbled, slipping one hand to the front of her pants.
Chuckling, she staved him off and looked at him. "You made me call Cragen and tell him you had a horrible headache, we're an hour late to work already. You want to give him more of a reason to…"
"He doesn't know my headache went away," he interrupted with a maniacal smirk, walking his fingers back to the zip of her pants. He slowly slid it down, staring at her with darkened narrow eyes. He licked his lips salaciously, arcing his hand forward and down between her pants and her underwear. He moaned, it sounded guttural and feral, twisting his wrist and stroking her through the silk. "Hot," he whispered, pressing harder against her. "Wet."
The heated breath from him landed on her lips and made her shiver as she moaned louder, feeling his fingers curl under her silk underwear. She gripped his shoulders and jerked her body upward when he pushed two fingers into her, his other hand still on her ass, supporting her. "Elliot," she keened, arching her back.
"Mmm, right here," he said as he nipped at her lips. He moved his fingers, twisted and crooked them, and slammed his mouth into hers as he guided them back to the chaise. He fell, pulling her with him, and let out a victorious growl when he felt her hands working rather quickly to unbuckle his belt. He worked his fingers faster and when she pulled herself up to shove his pants down, he fell into a trance. Watching her rock and buck against his thigh as his hand worked her to climax made every nerve in his body spark and crackle. With a thrash, he kicked off his pants wildly and dropped his head back. Her hand felt like Heaven wrapped around his dick, and when she stroked, he popped his head up and bit his bottom lip hard, staring into her eyes.
It became an erotic contest, who could force whom over the edge first. It was a game she was losing, she determined. Her back curved and her throat let loose a long incantation. His name, a Latin prayer, and something vulgar in a language she wasn't even sure she knew. With a frenzied shake of her head she clenched her thighs together and pulled herself up, away from his hand, and then lowered herself back down as she guided him into her. The noise that came out of her mouth was a house-blend of relief and intense satisfaction, with only the slightest bit of pain. She hurled herself forward and kissed him hard, her hips starting to roll.
He filtered his hands through her hair, moaning into her mouth every time he felt her pussy slide off of him, seething when she engulfed him again. He was stunned into near paralysis, only bucking his hips slightly to get deeper every time she lowered herself to him. She took the reins and he submitted, giving her control.
Intense and unexpected, yes, but never unwelcome. She could feel him pushing further into her with every thrust. Her body adjusting to his full size and girth sent electric currents through her, in all directions. Her hypersensitivity and escalated hormones magnified every sensation tenfold. "Elliot," she whimpered, "God, baby."
As the word 'baby' left her lips, he streamed his hands from her head to her belly, one hand protectively shelling it, the other running lower to thumb at her clit. "Baby," he whispered, kissing her. He worked harder, then, more desperate for her to cum because the thought of her glowing and growing with their child turned him on in more ways than he knew there to be and it made his dick throb. "Honey," he coaxed, flicking his thumb rapidly and slamming his hips up against her opposite thrusts.
Her body fell to his, tensing and burning as the power of what was taking over worked its way from the tips of her toes to the pit of her stomach. She clenched, tremors ripping through her, and she screamed his name loudly, almost violently into their kiss.
"Oh, fuck, fuck, baby," he spat on harsh gasps, the way her body clamped and convulsed around him triggered him and he came with such ferocity that he was certain the neighbors heard his roar. He held her down, keeping her pressed against him. He could feel himself pulsating, her vibrations and the way each spasm sucked him in a bit deeper, and he couldn't help the crass curse that flew out of his mouth and into hers.
She quaked against him, bringing her frantic kiss down to a simmering languidity. Her hands cupped his face and her hips rocked one final time as a sort of curtain call. "If I wasn't already pregnant," she respired, caressing him, "That would have done it."
He grunted and thrust again, making them both moan, and then he slowly eased her up a bit. "Jesus, baby," he combed her hair back with his fingers and gazed into her eyes, "We are the fucking luckiest couple in the world because no one...no one else has a fucking love like this."
She agreed and kissed him again, and then slowly peeled herself off of him. "Damn right," she breathed. She slipped off of the chaise and on wobbly legs, she moved and picked up their clothes. She turned back and saw him, leaning up on his elbows, already fully erect again, staring at her with hungry eyes. She winked at him and held his gaze as she slowly pulled on each bit of her outfit that he had torn off.
"So fucking beautiful," he said to her, licking his lips. He scooted off of the cushion, stood up, and walked toward her. He cupped her face, looked deeply into her eyes, and asked, "Do you ever wonder?"
"What?" She handed him his pants and shirt, but noticed he made no move to put them on. She ran a hand down his chest slowly, and then kissed his lips. "Wonder what?"
He grabbed her hands and stilled them. "What our lives would be like if we weren't together?"
She pressed her lips together. The truth was she didn't have to wonder. She knew what life was like when he wasn't hers, when he was just a fantasy. She couldn't tell him that. "I've had nightmares about it," she said honestly, because she did have terrible dreams where he remembered his old life and wanted it all back.
He chuckled and brought her hands up to his lips, kissing her knuckles. "Nightmares, huh? So you don't ever feel like...like somehow being with me is keeping you from…" he paused and took a deep breath. "Keeping you from something better?"
She shook her head, leaned into him, and kissed him softly. "It doesn't get any better than this," she whispered. "You are all I have ever wanted, and this...this house, our family," she brought their joined hands down to rest on her belly, "Is everything I have ever dreamed of, you have to know that." She rubbed her belly, making his hand do the same. "You know everything about me, you remember every detail about me...so you...you have to know that."
He nodded and kissed her again. "I love you," he said to her. He smiled and kissed her once more. "I need to go upstairs and change, or we're going to be late."
"Whose fault is that?" she teased. She watched him shrug playfully and run up the stairs, and then she closed her eyes. "The night we hunted down Brooks. You brought the bastard to his knees, made him beg for his life...and then you cradled that little boy in your arms and made him feel so safe," a tear rolled down her cheek. "We got back to the house and instead of running the interrogation, you stayed in the squad room and played checkers with him until his mother came to pick him up, and then you...you took me up to the bunks, made me get in bed, and you...you thought I was asleep but I wasn't. You kissed my cheek and told me...you didn't know why but…"
"I love you," he whispered, behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, both hands on her tiny almost-bump, and he buried his head in the bend of her neck. "I've always loved you."
She smiled, leaned back into him, and nodded. "You ready?" She sniffled and wiped away the few tears that had fallen in her reminiscence.
He made an affirmative noise, pulled her with him toward the coat rack, and grabbed his and hers off the hooks. "What even made you think about that?" He had heard her talking to herself.
"It was…" to lie or tell the truth. "I fell in love with you that night." She smiled at him. "All over again."
He smiled, kissed her, and said, "I intend to make you fall in love with me, baby, at least once a day." He cupped her chin and held her steady. "I promise, I'm never going to give you a reason to regret me. Us."
As he led her out of the house, she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that something had shifted, and that his headaches meant more than they realized.
Peace and Love
Jo