A/N:As long as I got you by my side, I know what I wanna do in this life (Soldier - James TW)
DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story is allllllllllllllll mine. © TStabler
Olivia takes a moment to look around the living room of the new house. The plush cream colored carpet, mahogany wood chair rails with mint green painted walls, the full picture window taking up the entire space behind the couch, and the furniture placed perfectly to emulate the house that changed her life.
The house in Syracuse.
The house that propelled suppressed feelings to the surface, the house that forced a confrontation with emotions she was prepared to never face.
She folds her arms over herself, letting out a heavy breath and with it, the tension from Elliot's hearing and Cragen's phone call and the knowledge that everything she owns is trapped behind crime scene tape. The house seems to calm her, and as her gaze roams around the room again, she smiles. It's safe. It's sanctuary. It's home.
It's been hours since they got here, she's checked on the kids three times and she's still shaking. She sighs and leans back, somehow knowing he's right behind her. "Kids asleep?" she asks, because she's still fucking worried about them.
He nods, kisses the back of her head, and he presses into her, moaning right into her ear. "They were exhausted after moving everything over here, they conked out as soon as their heads hit their pillows." He thrusts his hips once, bucking against her ass. He moans again, sliding his hands down to her hips. When she doesn't move, he stiffens. "You, uh...you okay?" He kisses her neck and then her cheek, he sways with her to a song no one else can hear. "If you're upset about your apartment, Tucker said we'll be able to go in and get your stuff…"
"It's just stuff," she says as she turns around. She takes one look at him and she's instantly flooded by how much she fucking needs him. "As long as you and the kids are okay...I'm okay. I don't really care about the apartment."
"So what's the matter?" he asks, still moving with her to the music in his head.
She wraps her arms around him and she takes a breath, inhaling the scent of his cologne and his musk and moaning at the way it makes her entire body tingle. "I just...can't stop thinking about what would have happened if…" she paused and scrapes her teeth along her lip. "If the kids were there."
He shakes his head and kisses her lips. "Don't do that," he whispers. "They weren't there. They're here, upstairs, sound asleep." His eyes twitch and then narrow, and as he breathes his nostrils flare. "If I ever get my hands on Porter, I will break every fucking bone in his body and then…"
She kisses him to silence his threats. Not threats, no. Fuck, she knows that he's serious. She nods to tell him she knows, she agrees, and she drops her head to his chest and takes a deep but shaky breath. When her eyes land on the hardwood floor, her heart stops and she freezes, her mind flying back to Syracuse.
She remembers the way he'd pulled her down to an identical floor, the way he'd whispered "He's watching us" just before sliding his hands between her skin and her shirt, teasing, testing. The way he'd rolled them over and looked into her eyes and promised that he'd never let anyone hurt her. The way he'd kissed her and it had felt so real, so perfect, so right. The way he'd promised it wasn't just because they were being watched. The thought lights a fire in the back of her mind.
"Baby," he spoke, pulling her face up with one of his hands, snapping her out of her memory. "What are you…"
"How did he know?" Her voice is soft but stern, her hands clutch at the fabric of his shirt. "El, how did Dean know that the kids were at my apartment? That you were staying with me?"
He squints and pokes at the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "He's been watching…" he blinks, and it's as if a switch has been flicked. "How?" He narrows his eyes and he thinks, and he gasps. "The same way…"
"The whole time," she interrupts. "Upstate, here... I don't think we were only being watched by that psychopath. The whole fucking time, it was Dean." She tries to push away from him, her anger getting the best of her, but his hold on her is firm and tight, and she swats at him fruitlessly as she grunts a harsh, "Let go!"
"Liv, baby, calm down," he says as he struggles to keep her pressed to him. "Honey, we...look at me, look at me," he cups her face and bends a bit, staring directly into her eyes. "We'll get him, baby, I promise you we will. I swear, but...I had the guys check this place from stem to stern, there's no hidden cameras or bugs, and you know our windows are tinted. No one can see in, baby, we're completely safe here."
"I know," she sighs, falling into him again. "I know. I'm just…" she shrugs away whatever word is hanging on her tongue. "I'm sorry."
"So am I," he says, and he presses his lips to hers again. "We're okay, the kids are fine, that asshole didn't do anything. We both just have to...breathe." He kisses her and tugs lightly on her hair. He knows she knows what it means, and how she reacts to it always surprises him. He tells her pull at his shirt and he chuckles against her lips. "Forget about him," he whispers, and his hands slide lower on her body, down her back, until he's cupping her ass. "Focus on us. This. Here. Now." He squeezes her and kisses her again.
He never remembers feeling with anyone else the way he feels with Olivia. He has never loved so deeply, never wanted so desperately. With her, he wants to fuck her, make love to her, dominate her, submit to her, promise her the moon and deliver it, protect her, defend her, give her the world and held her conquer it all at once. It's the kind of love he'd read about once in a high school English class that he scoffed at, thought was only fantasy, but here it is, in the flesh, in his hands. "I love you," he tells her, and he pulls her white shirt out of her pants, starts to pick apart the buttons as he attacks her with another kiss.
She knows what he's doing, what he wants, and it's the same thing her body is now begging for. She whimpers once as her hands tug on his belt, snapping open the buckle and pulling roughly. "I love you," she finally returns, and she manages to shove his pants down over his hips. She hears him laugh, a low and gravelly sound, and she slides her hands up to his neck. She grabs his tie and with a single flick of her wrist, she has the green silk on the floor beneath her.
He works her shirt and blazer off with little difficulty, his tongue wrestling with hers as he moves, forcing her backward, and when he has her up against the wall, he pulls away. Breathless and panting, he searches her eyes. "Do you?" He asks the question with such sincerity, as if he truly isn't sure.
She struggles to breathe, feeling her nipples graze his bare chest. She's unsure of when exactly he'd taken her bra off, but she doesn't really care. "El," she says softly, part of her heart breaking with his doubt, and she realizes how quickly tables turn and that this is what he feels like when she asks the same questions. "God, yes," she breathes, her hands cupping his face and her thumbs rubbing the thin skin under his eyes.
He kisses her hard, the force shoving her back against the wall again, and he shoves her pants down with one hand, the other clutches both of her wrists above her head. "Be quiet," he warns, unsure of how sound carries in the new house and unwilling to have this be the way his kids find out about birds and bees and babies. He kisses her again, his right hand finding a home between her thighs, fingers teasing her wet heat. He moans her name as he inches two of them into her, twists and crooks and thrusts, and his heart hammers against his chest because it's bringing back so many fucking memories.
"Bedroom," she mumbles against his kiss, her hips rocking with the thrusting of his hand. "El, please," she whimpers.
"Doing this," he exhales as he moves his fingers faster, "Without anyone fucking watching us." He rotated his wrist and swipes his thumb over her clit rapidly. He leans closer to her, his hot breath lands on her neck, hits her ear and makes her shiver. "I love watching you like this," he tells her, and he bites at her pulse once. Her moan makes his dick throb, and he moves his fingers deeper and faster. "The look in your eyes, right before you cum…" he grits out with a grunting breath. "Fuck, baby. Cum for me." He struggles to keep his eyes open and on her face.
She feels it happening and her eyes roll back as her muscles start to give out. "Oh, my God, Elliot," she trembles, and she stares into his blue eyes as she lets go.
"Fuck," he spits, feeling her clamp around his fingers. "So fucking incredible," he says to her before he kisses her hard, his hand still moving torturously. His kiss moves from her lips to her neck, her chest, and he travels downward, kissing a trail from her stomach to her thighs as he sinks to his knees. He grins smugly as he peers up at her and reminds her, "Quiet," before leaning forward and licking up her slick slit.
Her hands drop to his head as her neck bends back and her jaw drops. "Oh, God," she moans softly, trying to keep her promise to stay quiet. Her fingers rake through his hair as her body bucks into his working mouth. She presses her lips together and her head falls to the side. She opens her eyes and gasps; the paint and panels on the walls, the layout of the furniture, it's all so fucking perfect and for a moment she's in Syracuse and there's nothing but her and him and this miraculous moment. "Elliot," she warns, her body starting to tremble again.
He knows, and he wants it more than anything. He hooks his arms under her in case her legs give out and he wraps his lips around her swollen, aggravated clit. He suckles for a moment and closes his eyes, losing himself in her taste, all thoughts of his broken past and their current situation blurring as she cums on his tongue. He moans in pleasure, lapping at her, taking everything she's giving him.
She whimpers as her legs cave and she moans when he catches her and kisses her. She knows he's lifting her into his arms and carrying him into their new bedroom, though they have yet to buy a bed.
Still kissing her, he lays her on the pile of blankets on the floor, smooths his body over hers, and enters her with one swift thrust.
They let out simultaneous cries of satisfied relief, and they work to prove how much stamina they have, how much desire they possess for each other.
But someone on the other side of the city is working just as hard, trying to use them strategically, treating them like pawns in the chess game from Hell. Playing with them as if they were his own unique set of toy soldiers.
Little does he know, they expect him to try, they've already marked a defense, and his next move will be his last.
A/N: whuuuuut!?