A/N: Sex and intimacy are vastly different, and the difference matters.
What about love? Don't you want someone to care about you? - Heart
DISCLAIMER: Characters and background information are the sole property of DICK WOLF. The content of this story is the sole property of Tstabler©
It's not the way he's looking at her that makes her uncomfortable, it's what he's saying to her. The words leaving his lips, the way his gravelly voice seems to make the entire room rattle. "Are we done?" Her question comes out with disdain and she isn't sorry about it at all.
Ed Tucker sighs, realizing his lecture has fallen on deaf ears and she will make the same mistakes again without considering them mistakes at all. "Apparently, we are, Benson," he spits, but then he points a finger at her. "You'd better be damn sure that partner of yours is worth risking your badge for," he adds with as much threat as he can muster.
"He's worth a hell of a lot more than my badge," she snaps with a fire in her eyes that makes Tucker sit up straighter. She nods at him, turns on her heeled boots, and leaves the office, slamming the door behind her.
"What'd he say?" Elliot asks quickly, eyes wide, as he jumps to his feet and rushes in a limp over to her.
She shakes her head, looking away from Elliot and toward the wall, and she scrapes her teeth over her lower lip. "Same shit he always says," she tells him, "Excessive force, blah, blah, blah, risking everything for my partner is stupid, blah, blah, blah," she laughs dismissively and then looks at him. "He'll never say that to me again, by the way," she winks.
He narrows his eyes but he grins. "I'll bet," he says to her. "Did he give you…"
"Necessary shot," she interrupts, moving the tails of her blazer to the side to reveal her gun and badge at her hip, where they belong. "We can get out of here," she breathes. She starts to move, but Elliot grabs her hand and pulls her into him. She raises an eyebrow and asks him a silent question.
He swallows hard, licks his lips, and his face takes on an emotion he rarely lets the world know he's capable of feeling. He whispers, "I don't know what I would...I'm sorry you had to…" he sniffles and says, "Thank you," as his eyes sting and redden with the prohibited need to cry.
Something inside of her snaps like a dry twig. She's never seen him like this before, and he's certainly never held her hand for this long, this tightly, where other people could clearly see them. "What are you…" and then her words are swallowed by his slow, gentle yet eager kiss. She doesn't pull away, and she doesn't flinch, but it surprises her nonetheless. She feels his hands press against her cheeks, his thumbs brushing gingerly over her skin, and she inhales sharply. They've kissed a million times before, but this is different.
He eases backward and whispers, "I love you," and in an instant, he's pulling her through the crowded halls of One Police Plaza and toward the glass doors that will lead them onto an even more crowded street. He grips her hand even tighter, moves faster, and veers left down a street they never usually set foot on.
"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice bouncing as she runs in her boots to keep up with Elliot's stride.
He doesn't reply, he pulls her along faster and aims for a building that he'd never imagined needing to walk into at this time of day, if ever. He turns and leads her through the revolving doors while pulling his clip off of his belt. He holds up his badge knowing it will be enough to avoid answering questions, and he rushes with her up the steps.
She watches in stunned silence as he flashes his badge to the nearest cleaning lady. He whispers something she can't hear clearly, and her eyes widen when the maid immediately moves and unlocks the first available unoccupied room. "El?" she questions again, but again the question is ignored.
He turns, smiles at her, and he pulls her closer. He wraps her in his arms, kisses her with the same profound emotion as before, only this time it came with a long, soft moan. He keeps his eyes closed, his lips against hers, as his fingers pull and twist at the buttons of her shirt.
She shivers, the frigidity of the hotel room hitting her bare skin as it's exposed. She feels his palms smooth her shirt and blazer off of her body, she gasps slightly when it becomes clear he's aiming for her pants next. "What are you…" she starts, but his insistent kiss keeps the rest of the words from being born.
He slips her pants over her hips, hearing the thunk of her gun and badge as they hit the floor, and he chuckles as his fingertips toy with the elastic waist of her silk underwear. "You," he whispers, and he begins to roll the silk down, "You have no idea." He takes a breath and kneels as he lowers the fabric, his hands grazing her thighs, legs, calves, and he takes off her shoes and socks one by one before tugging her underwear off and tossing it behind him. He places soft kisses on every reachable inch of her skin as he ascends, working his own clothes off at the same time. Whenever he comes to a scar, he lingers, letting his tongue trace the outlines and jagged edges of each battle wound marring her otherwise flawless skin.
"El, what are you doing?" she whispers, her nails scraping along his scalp as she caresses him.
He looks into her eyes when he finally straightens, and he kicks off his left sock which leaves him fully naked. "I am in love with every single part of you...everything you are, everything you'll ever be…" he swallows and leans in, brushing his nose against hers, "I could have lost you, today," he says as though the words taste like battery acid.
She shakes her head as she feels him moving to unhook her bra. "I'm the one that…" her voice breaks. "I could have lost you," she breathes. "That's why I pulled the trigger. As soon as he lunged at you with that knife...I knew I should have aimed for his arm, but I…" and she loses volume. Her bra straps slip off of her shoulders, the garment falls to the floor.
He grazes her lips with the pad of his thumb and goads her backward. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress she stumbles onto the bed with a soft laugh. He grins and crawls on top of her, looming over her like a calm panther, gazing at her with adoration in his eyes and something unreadable on his face. Slowly, his hands move, caressing her arms, her elbows, her stomach. His index finger follows the definition lines of her muscles, connecting invisible dots.
The silence is stark, ragged breaths fill the noiseless air. Her body jerks as he touches the parts of her that are seldom noticed, like the undersides of her wrists and the soft v-cut of her hips, and as he grazes the soft skin at the juncture of her inner thighs, he stares down into her eyes, unblinking.
It's the most intimate moment that has ever passed between them.
"Liv," he whispers, "It's Valentine's Day." He blinks once. He bends his head and shifts his weight, taking aim and thrusting only the slightest bit, the tip of his dick pressing forward into her. "I love you."
Her eyes close, her head drops backward, and she exhales on a tremble as he fills her completely. "God, I love you, too," she tells him.
It wasn't the first time she's killed a man to save him, it won't be the last. It isn't the first case that's taken a near-fatal turn, and there will certainly be others. It's not the only time in his life he's been suspended for rushing to protect her, and he'll do it again the next time it's necessary. Their job is just a job, but it's one that brought them together, one that gifted them with the kind of love that only exists in Nicholas Sparks' novels and Spielberg movies, and Prime-Time Detective shows on network television, the kind of love that comes once in a lifetime and only if you're lucky.
He pulls out and presses his forehead to hers, thrusts back into her and sobs once. His emotions are finally bubbling to the surface and there's nothing else he can do to keep them at bay. His tears fall from open eyes as he kisses her and starts to pick up a deep and powerful pace.
As she clutches his shoulders and wraps her legs around his waist, fleeting thoughts patter through her mind like tap-dancing specks of fairy dust. Each one reminds her that this is and always has been more than just sex, from the first time they gave in to the carnal desire for each other to this emotional moment. She can't remember life before him and she can't imagine life after him, because she knows that there is no 'after him' at all. "I love you," she moans, and she means it with every single fiber of her being, every cell in her body. "Elliot, my God, I love you."
He kisses her again, nodding, moaning her name into her mouth, and he promises himself that once they get home, he will make it more impossible for her to walk away from him than it already is, because he can't live without her, either. If their actions speak louder than words ever could, then it's perfectly clear neither of them has any intention of living without the other at all. They'd give their lives for each other with no hesitation,
The only sounds between them are their quick panting breaths, wet smacking sounds from their kiss, and slapping skin. Translated, it's a promise. A pledge. The most intimate and emotional vow, and pure commitment to each other. It's different this time, as if this is the moment where what's between them surpasses a relationship and becomes something without a name.
He moves faster. Deeper. Harder.
Moans and grunts begin to filter through the room, cries of each other's name, murmurs of love and prayers to God, vulgar curses and guttural groans. Louder and harsher, reaching a crescendo just as he begins to move even faster, even deeper. He crashes his mouth over hers to catch her scream as she tightens and clamps, trapping him, keeping him from moving anymore.
She feels him tense as she convulses and she whimpers when he shudders and gives in. He fires like a hot cannon, shooting into her with the aim of a precision archer and even though he isn't really trying, he hits a bullseye. He knows it. He welcomes it.
She clings to him as she tries to slow what has become labored breathing, and she twitches with aftershocks, trembling in his arms.
He jerks and whispers, "God, I fucking love you," and he grabs her tightly and rolls them over. Panting, he brushes her hair back and laughs at the situation they've gotten themselves into. "Baby?"
She hums, resting her chin on his chest as she peers into his eyes.
He winks once. "Happy Valentine's Day."
A/N: Next...cookies, chocolate, flowers, champagne...and an apology?