A/N: The space between the tears we cry is the laughter keeps us coming back for more (Dave Matthews Band)
DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and its characters. TStabler© owns the narrative, dialogue, and plot of this story.
As Olivia roused from a peaceful nap, the events of the morning replayed in her half-conscious mind; caught somewhere between a dream and reality. She could still feel his hands on her body, reliving her brief moments of inhibition with him. She hadn't flinched once at the way he'd taken off her clothes so carefully, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin. Her hands had run through his short hair, her nails scratching lightly, and when she'd become fully bared to him, she'd simply returned the favor. She let out a satisfied sound, shifting in her bed, the image of his naked body in all its glory in vivid technicolor behind her eyelids. She moaned, remembering how every muscle in his body twitched at her touch, and how proud she'd been of her self-control, because she had never wanted to devour someone whole quite so badly and kept herself from doing it.
They hadn't made a single move further, other than kissing and caressing. She moaned his name softly into the pillow, still reeling from his hot touch in the shower, the feel of his rough hands smoothing over every curve and rubbing into every muscle. She marveled at how he'd washed and rinsed every inch of her, stopping when the need to kiss her became too strong. She'd done the same to him, her trembling hands and pounding heart reveling in his size, his girth, the fuel for every fantasy she'd ever have again.
She moaned and rolled onto her side, thinking back to how delicate he'd been when he'd washed her hair and how quickly he'd turned into something else when he finally laid eyes on the tattoo she once swore he'd never see.
A smirk played at her lips as she pulled her pillow tighter to her chest, recalling how he'd traced it first with the bar of soap, and then his fingers, and then he'd lowered himself enough to trace it with his lips and tongue. Another moan escaped as she let herself remember how determined he'd been not to take things too far, too fast, how he'd been adamant about making their shower together more intimate than sex could ever be, and nothing short of a profession of love.
Unaware her hand was moving, she moaned again, brushing her palm over her stomach. She shivered, remembering how he'd kissed her so deeply, up against the tiles. She rubbed her thighs together, in her mind still feeling his hard, thick length pressing into her, knowing how powerfully they had both wanted to make more, so much more of it, but how they'd resisted for lack of time. After rinsing away the suds and grime, they'd simply kissed, grazing each other's arms and sides with water-wrinkled fingertips. Their bodies had moved so rhythmically, slowly, rubbing together but never once meaning for it to become more than they could handle. It hadn't mattered, and thank God they were in the shower, because though neither had intended, both had cum.
Their moans and grunts had been swallowed by their kiss, the lukewarm water had washed away the traces of their sexless climaxes, and he'd chuckled as he'd pulled away from her and shut off the water, slapped her ass playfully, and whispered words she felt she hadn't deserved to hear.
It had been an hour since then; she'd gone back to bed, worn out from the most exhilarating and fulfilling experience she'd ever had with a man, while he kept his promise to pick up his kids and take them to church. Giving up the hope of falling back into any sort of sleep, she pushed herself up and tossed off her covers. She rubbed her eyes as she sat up and let her legs fall over the side of the bed. Yawning, she reached for her purple cotton robe, wrapped herself up in it, and grabbed her phone off of the nightstand. She groggily walked out of her bedroom and ran her hand through her hair as she looked around the apartment, sighing in some sort of surrender.
She walked toward the coffee table first, dropping her phone down before picking up empty coffee mugs and wadded up napkins. Humming to herself, she set them all on the counter, and then tossed the napkins in the trash. She set off to wash the dishes, the few mugs, as well as the frying pan Elliot had used that morning, and her smile widened. But as she watched the bits of pepper and egg swirl and rush toward the drain and disposal, that smile became somber, disappearing into a half-moon pout.
It was symbolic, she thought. Things just being washed down the drain, tossed away. Elliot's marriage, his life with a woman whose name she still had a hard time remembering, ten years of dedication. And then, of course, her barely-even-begun relationship with a guy who, though he had faults, was willing to put up with her. She shook her head, fast as she dropped the soapy sponge into the sink. "No," she scolded herself.
She wasn't going to let the fear and doubt creep in this time and rip her away from the one thing in her life that made any God damn sense. She yanked the towel off of the stove handle, and as she dried out the cups and pan, she heard voices just outside her front door. Setting the pan in the rack beside the sink, she stared at the knob, watching with widening eyes as it turned.
"Hey," his voice met her ears before his face registered clearly. When it did, she smiled at him. She waved and then let her eyes land on the four little bodies that were rushing in her direction. She made a face and braced herself for impact, and then laughed when Elliot's four children leaped at her, each finding a part of her to hug and hold. "Hello, hello, hello," she laughed as she tried to return each eager embrace.
Elliot watched, and he brought one hand to his face, cupping his mouth as he chuckled. He was in absolute awe of how quickly she had bonded with his kids, how instantly they took a liking to her. "You don't mind," he said, stepping closer to the pile of blurry bodies before him. "Do you?"
"Of course not," Olivia said on a laugh, taking a breath as the kids let her go. She crouched down and said, "Mo, why don't you find a movie on TV? One you can all agree on," she tapped the almost-eleven-year-old on the nose.
Maureen giggled and ran toward the couch, dropping into it as she shrugged off her coat and grabbed the remote. Kathleen, Lizzie, and Dickie hopped up on the sofa, too, and took turns pushing the buttons and arguing over channels.
Elliot moved closer to Olivia as he laughed at his kids, and without even thinking, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her. He let out a soft moan, a whispered confession, and he pulled away. He saw the question in her eyes, and he smirked and shook her head, telling her not to worry about it. He scraped his teeth over his lower lip, then, letting his left hand move down to her right hip. He toyed with the elastic of her pajama pants, and then he moaned again, slipping the fabric down a bit. "This," he whispered, letting his knuckles graze her tattoo. He tilted his head, fingering the angular rays of the sun, his trimmed fingernails tracing the outline of the moon. "I was right, ya know, when you told me about this...it's you."
She couldn't tear her eyes away from his face, the look of pure intrigue and ecstasy was clear. "I guess it is," she whispered back. "What are you doing back here?"
"They all thought you would be coming to church with us," he told her. He was now looking into her eyes, but his hand was still playing with the ink at her hip. He inched closer, slipping one of his legs between hers, and he leaned them up against the side wall of the kitchen. "When they realized you weren't with me, they got upset," he shrugged. "As soon as the final prayer was through, they asked if they could see you." He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. When he didn't get the immediate response he'd anticipated, he let his tongue swipe over the seam of her closed mouth, moved his knee further between her legs, and scratched just a bit harder at her tattoo.
Her gasp made her mouth fall open and she moaned when he took his shot and deepened the kiss. She couldn't fight it, now, and clutched his arms with her hands. "Your kids," she whispered as soon as she got the chance.
He shook his head and kissed her again. "Can't see us," he whispered back, and he pressed his body into hers, hiking his thigh up a bit further. He could feel her, hot and throbbing, right through the denim of his jeans, and he whispered, "You want me, huh?"
She nodded, her kiss just as eager and desperate as his, but she pushed him away just enough to give her space to breathe. "Not in the kitchen, remember?" she joked, her head pressed against his, "And definitely not with all four of your children half a wall away." Her hands ran up his arms, over his shoulders, and she cupped his face. "But God, yes, I want you."
His laugh was breathy, hot puffs of air landed on her lips, and he kissed her again, softer and slower. "I want you, too, baby," he panted, peeling himself away from her. He bit his lip as he pulled her out of their hiding place and tugged her into the living room. He sat on the smaller couch, taking her with him, and jutted a chin toward the television. "What are you guys watching?"
"Wreck It Ralph," Dickie answered, his little legs swinging, too short to touch the floor.
Kathleen twirled a piece of her blonde hair with her fingers as she said, "We all like this movie. Ralph kind of reminds us of Daddy."
Elliot scoffed and feigned offense. "How?" he asked, his hands running down Olivia's back.
She gave in and snuggled closer to him, but kept her hands to herself.
Maureen spoke up with a giggle and said, "He's this big, strong, scary guy," she began. "All the Nicelanders think he's got a bad temper and he hits and breaks things."
"Oh, thanks," Elliot chuckled. "I'm not…"
"But then," Lizzie interrupted, "You find out that all he really wants to do is be a hero. So he leaves his game...his home...and he meets Venelope, who's really a princess but she doesn't know it, and she brings out his good side. He finally has someone who treats him kindly and who lets him be himself and likes him just the way he is. She makes him realize he was a hero all along, he just needed someone to believe in him."
"Wow, Eliot breathed, suddenly overcome with a mix of emotions he was sure he'd never felt before, and he looked at his kids. "That's...wow, you guys think that...I'm like that? You mean that?"
Kathleen nodded and said, "Uh-huh!"
Maureen smiled at her father and said, "We also think that Liv is like Venelope."
Olivia let out a soft gasp; she felt Elliot pull her even closer to him. "Me?"
"You're the one who pulled all the good out of him," Dickie shrugged. "As soon as he met you, he wasn't afraid to be himself anymore. He figured out he didn't have to change or hide to please anyone, even if it made other people upset." His face fell. "Like Mom." He kicked his feet a bit harder against the couch. "But us...we all...like, we like him better now." He looked up. "And we like you, Liv."
"Oh, sweetheart," Olivia said softly, knowing her emotions now matched Elliot's exactly.
Elliot, biting his lip and trying to keep the threatening tears from falling, stared at his son. "How old are you?"
"I'm almost seven, Daddy!" he squealed with a hard and happy laugh, still kicking his feet.
Once Elliot saw all of his kids focus on the movie, he reached out for Olivia's cheek, brushing away a tear. When she turned to look at him, he kissed her quickly. "They see it," he whispered to her. "My kids see it. How can we deny it, now?" He shook his head and shrugged. He leaned in, slowly, carefully reading the look in her eyes. "This morning…"
"Yeah," she said to him, her lip caught between her teeth. "I've been thinking about since…" she was stopped by his lips.
Pulling away with a wet, smacking sound, he smiled. "God, I can't stop playing it over and over in my head. Nothing like that has ever…"
His words were stopped, too, but not by a kiss. He rolled his eyes and groaned, dropping his head back to hers as he felt her shift forward, grabbing her ringing cell phone off the coffee table.
"Benson," she said, answering the call, and as she spoke, Elliot's phone rang. "Uh, flannel pajamas and a...no, um, long. Why are you...what? No, look, is there something you need me to...yeah, great. Thanks." She hung up and poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue, staring in amazed offense at Elliot.
"No, I got it, Cap. I have to take the kids home, and go get Benson, so...fifteen? Right. Bye." He shoved his phone back in his pocket and looked at her. "What's with that look?"
"Jeffries," she said, wiggling her phone. "Wanted to know if I needed help getting dressed. Or undressed," she raised one eyebrow.
"Oh, well, you do," he told her, standing up. He held out a hand and whispered, "But the only one helping you do either of those things is me." He winked when she slipped her hand into his. He turned and said, "Uh, guys, I need help Liv with something, when we're done...we have to go, okay? We gotta go to work."
"But it's Sunday," Kathleen whined.
"I know, pumpkin," he smiled sadly at his daughter. "I'm sorry." He sighed when Kathleen turned back toward the television and he urged Olivia in the direction of her bedroom. He ran a hand down his face as they walked into the room and he grinned when she started to literally disrobe.
She laughed when he moved, doing as promised and helping her take off her clothes, and just as he'd done before, he kissed each new patch of skin as it came into view. She closed her eyes and ran her hands through his hair as she silently prayed that their time at work would go quickly. She had something she needed to do, things she needed to say. She moaned his name as she felt his tongue sweep along her tattoo again.
When he got to his feet, he kissed her lips. "Do you, uh, think you trust me enough now?" He blinked. "To tell me...how you got that scar...why you really got that gorgeous tattoo that I just can't stop touching?" He ran a finger along the rim of the moon to prove his point.
She looked into his eyes, kissed him softly, and nodded. "When we get…"
"Home?" He finished for her. He smirked as she pulled clothes out of her closet, anticipating how she'd move under his touch as he helped her dress. "Liv?"
She turned to look over her shoulder at him, at the same time slipping her arms into the straps of a bra.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to control himself. When he could, he smiled at her. "I love you.
A/N: Jeffries, Fin, Kathy, and a secret revealed. Next.