AN: Thank you for your kind words! Here is the final instalment to Sex, Lies & Videotape (a Wildlife journey).
I'm just as surprised as you that I finished something!
SEX, LIES, AND VIDEOTAPE - PART 2
The sun had well and truly set when he pulls up outside her apartment.
She never would have accepted the lift home, but it was in direct route between the witness they'd just interviewed and his house so it would have looked more suspect had she refused.
She is seconds from clicking off her seatbelt when she notices he's shut the engine off completely. It's not idling in park like it usually is, the ignition is purposefully off and her stomach constricts because she realises he's not quite done with their prior conversation.
She glances over at him in warning, praying he doesn't start back up again.
His eyes lock purposefully with hers.
"I want to sort this out now Liv," he tells her slowly.
No such luck.
By some miracle they had managed to put their grievances aside that day and let work rightfully take priority, it seemed however that he'd been waiting for the night to fall to bring this back into the light.
"I don't want this to flare up in the middle of interrogation or the bullpen," he tells her quietly. "We don't need anything else to come between us Olivia."
Anything else.
She feels like she's just been sucker punched, waves of apprehension crash around her when she realises he's talking about much more than just today. Her mind flits back to Gitano and the explosive fight that had erupted many years ago and how far she'd thought they had come since then.
She has no idea what to say in response to that – part of her feels like she's just been hit with a brutal accusation, the other part makes her wonder if he'd been consciously tallying up all the ways in which they'd fucked up over the years and now he's deeming them at capacity.
He doesn't need another excuse to walk away from this partnership.
That's what she was hearing.
She watches him scratch the 5 o'clock stubble on his jaw line and that's when it becomes apparent that he is waiting for her to speak. But she doesn't, her eyebrows simply lift in challenge, because if he wants to talk – then he can talk.
She'd said enough for one day.
"Is this going to be a problem?" He whispers.
Her pulse thrums beneath his stare because the subtle warning had not been missed.
She blinks back at him with her token pokerface that she's become exceptionally good at sporting, unwilling to rise to whatever the hell he seems to think he is doing.
Is this going to be a problem?
It feels like he was speaking to her like one of his daughters, not his equal partner of 10 years.
"No," she gives him resolutely.
Because she cannot – will not, let this unravel, not tonight, not after they just lucked out on their second witness this week, not after years of holding herself back from any conversations that even came close to this one.
A few moments of silence pass between them, the mood far more intense in the shadowy confines of the car.
"You wanna make that more convincing," he gives her and she thinks he's being far more brash now without the buffer of being on duty.
Her lips turn upward at that and she glances away, running a hand over her face trying to erase the tiredness she feels from all this. He is gearing up for a fight, he is actually baiting her and she wonders how long he's been holding onto all this. She'd thought he'd wanted to clear the air with her, but it seems he'd rather drag her through the mud first.
"Elliot," she whispers absently out the window, knowing that if she doesn't keep this light they're just going run in circles, or worse it's going to escalate exponentially. "It's fine."
"It is?" He repeats. "Olivia you can barely even look at me."
She rakes her teeth across her lower lip as waves of emotion suddenly crash into her. She manages to somehow swallow it back down before she turns and gives him what he wants - direct, unhindered eye contact.
Their eyes lock and the tension between them heightens.
"Do you think I was out of line Elliot.." she asks him deadpan. "Is that what this is about?"
Because that's what this had all boiled down to at the end of the day.
This all seemed to be on her and she doesn't know why.
She watches him carefully debating his next choice of words, the silence beginning to percolate. He doesn't answer fast enough and when he finally drags his eyes away from hers that tells her everything she needs to know.
"That a yes?" she rasps to his profile in astonishment, no part of her able to comprehend that she's the one suddenly on blast here.
"I don't know Liv," he whispers. "I don't even know where the line is with us anymore."
The truth of his statement jars her in ways she hadn't expected. It wasn't particularly accusatory, it hadn't been directed at her - it had just been the truth, and it pretty much summed up the entire underlying problem of their partnership.
They'd spent a decade toeing an invisible line that neither of them dared to touch.
She doesn't know what she is supposed to do with that comment and the last thing she wants is to dissect it. She presses her lips together, unable to grasp just how willing he seems to be setting up the pins tonight, just daring her to bowl them all down.
She blinks down the quiet street.
"I'm going to get some sleep."
It's a cop out.
A big one.
She knows it.
He knows it.
But she doesn't care, she is going to defuse this bomb before it detonates on her side street. He doesn't respond to that and she figures she only has moments to follow through.
She clicks off her seatbelt, grasping the door handle and she somehow manages to open it without any dispute from him. She slips out of her seat, her heart beat hammering as she closes the door behind her with a thud. She sucks in a deep breath, not quite believing that she'd actually managed to leave.
She knows she needs to start walking away but she just needs a minute, her feet feel heavy - rooted to the sidewalk, as if her boots had suddenly filled with thick cement.
But she hesitates too long.
The blinding awareness of that coming to head when she hears his car door open. She presses her eyes closed in defeat, because she had her chance to leave and now she has blown it.
He moves out of his car and it's slow and methodical when he shuts his door, not brash and heated. She turns around expecting to see him rounding the vehicle to her side but he is simply standing there, looking over the top of the sedan at her.
There is no challenge in his eyes, no anger - but she catches it clear as day, an unwillingness to let this rest.
Her street is unbearably quiet for a Friday night, and although there is a car separating them it doesn't mask the fact that he is clearly setting those pins back up for her, daring her to bowl them down once more.
But she's done playing.
"Go home Elliot," her voice cracks, it's scratchy against the night air.
It's not a demand, it's a plea.
She is begging him not to do this.
She gives him a few moments to respond and when he doesn't comply she decides she isn't going to wait around to see if he does. She somehow manages to turn towards her stoop and once her legs are moving she kicks into autopilot.
She makes her way through the security door that's been purposefully left ajar by a stack of newspapers and heads up the first light of stairs. She doesn't want to think about the possibility of him following her but if ever there was a night he would do it, it would be tonight.
She makes it to the second floor when she hears the metal clang of the security door and she shakes her head. She knows it can only be one of two things - he has closed it in an effort to keep her building safe, or he was following her up here.
Her chest pounds at the idea of the latter, she tries to inhale as much oxygen as she can with each step but the air is thick and her lungs aren't quite filling like they usually do. She doesn't quicken her pace but she isn't dawdling either, if he follows her up here, she can handle it.
She will just tell him to go.
She has a way of making him listen to her when she needs him to.
She rounds the final flight of stairs when she sees her door in sight she eyes it like it's her refuge. She digs into her pocket grasping her keys in preparation and she is moments from inserting them when she hears footsteps approaching from behind.
She swings around just in time.
"Elliot I told you to go," she warns, giving him a look like he needs to take a hint.
He stops a few paces away and just stares, those piercing blue eyes giving her no indication that he's going to adhere to her demand.
She turns back around, intent on ignoring him but he steps forward, the heat radiating from his sudden proximity becoming blindly apparent. She tries not to falter, she simply inserts her key, twisting it, her shoulder blades knocking the wall of his chest behind her in the process.
"You know, for someone who thinks I crossed a line," she swings around. "You're doing a pretty good job of that yoursel-."
But her words dissipate as his lips smother hers and he's backed her up against the firm wood of her door before she knows what's hit her.
A sound leaves the back of her throat, her breath catching in shock as she tries to find her bearings. All she feels is his strength, his body is hard, firm and his hands are immediately roaming, they're in her hair, one framing her cheek as the other tilts her head as his lips slide across hers. She is blindsided, completely thrown, and for a second she thinks she must be dreaming as his mouth parts her lips and his tongue swipes across hers.
A sound escapes from the back of her throat, vibrating against his lips and she doesn't know whether to push him off her or drag his body closer. Her heart is hammering in her chest at his 180, words of refusal are pummelling through with each breath because he shouldn't be rewarded for this kind of blatant recklessness.
His lips slip off hers suddenly and for a second she thinks he has come to his senses, any minute now he is going to stop, move off her and apologise but his mouth is merely skimming across her cheek until it reaches the base of her ear. She feels every muscle of his chest against hers in that moment and she's completely thrown by his sheer lack of hesitation to officially obliterate their partnership.
"Invite me in Liv." His tone is throaty, his body weight is restricting her from taking deep breaths, it feels like a demand but at the same time it's very much apparent that the decision is hers.
He needs an invitation.
Her head falls back against the door just so she can get some much needed oxygen into her brain to comprehend what he is asking of her but he takes that as an invitation, his lips pressing against the column of her neck, nipping, softly sucking, heating her with his breath, giving her a small window of time to decide how she is going to respond to this.
Her heart is hammering– every second that his lips skim her neck and his fingertips scrape against the bare skin of her waist she continues to falter.
"Elliot what the hell?" She manages but it's just a whisper, a front, there wasn't enough gusto behind it and she knows he will read into that. Her body is already slack in his arms, like microwave putty and he's not going to take a refusal from her unless she actually uses words.
"Tell me to go," he rasps against her neck but he's not playing fair because his right hand is slipping from her cheek down to the side of her neck, the other one still holding her in place against the door by her hip and she swallows in response to the arrogant way in which he's claiming her. Tell me to go, yet his lips and hands and giving her no indication that he's going to let up on her.
She musters adequate warning in her stance, her hands pressing against his chest to back him up slightly and it's enough that he lifts himself off her, giving her enough room to breathe again. He looks down at her in question, his eyes tracing the way heat is crawling across her chest as her body continues to respond to what he's just done.
He drags his lip between his teeth as his irises trace the rosy hue of her mouth.
She can feel him committing this to memory, just in case she tells him to leave tonight. She knows this is the part where she should come to her senses and put a stop to this.
She can end it with one word.
Go.
She swallows, it's on the tip of her tongue and she can tell he is preparing for her to say it but she's struggling with the concept and he catches that too. Her restraint is dwindling by the second, pylons shifting, self control falling to the wayside, leaving only unmistakable desire and hidden truth left on display.
A few beats pass and when her eyes finally flit back up to his she knows she has just sealed her own fate. He doesn't hesitate, he moves forward pressing his mouth against hers once more, a moan slipping through her throat as he backs her up against the door. He takes the sound as added permission, opening her mouth to his before his tongue is sliding into her depths. She breathes through her nose, as he moves her ass completely up against the door and that's when she feels the outline of his arousal pressing intimately against her hip.
God she wants him - she wants this.
She know not one part of this is a good idea – or ethical – or in anyway acceptable but she is so tired of fighting him, particularly when Elliot Stabler is making it next to impossible.
He drags her lower lip between his and is sucking when her lips slip off his suddenly and their mouths part in ragged breaths. He is looking down at her in question, wondering why she'd prematurely broken their kiss.
She gives him his answer when her hand twists the door knob. He falls with the motion of the door, grabbing her at the waist, steadying them so they don't fall backwards onto their asses. She doesn't know if she's lost her mind or if he's lost his but she is officially done fighting this – fighting them.
He blinks back at her, part in shock, part in desire before he starts to back her into the open apartment. They both take clumsy, disoriented, disjointed steps through the threshold before he closes the door behind them with his foot, then it's seconds before he has her up against the first wall he can find.
His lips grasp hers intently as he presses her up against cool cement, determined to get their bodies back together. She feels a hand against her ribcage, slipping beneath her cotton sweater, dragging it upward, attempting to get his hands against the lace that had taunted him that night.
He is all heat, and muscle and confidence and it's both expected and unexpected at the same time. The wall feels far more stable than the door and she arches into him in an effort to get their bodies closer. He continues to nip at her lips, his tongue darting out to trail the rim of her lower lip and she has a panging flash of what is to come.
A guys gotta eat.
Jesus.
Her lips are already raw from his stubble and her mind is now consumed with the concept of his 5 o'clock shadow between her legs. She moans his name in anticipation and when his hand finally closes around her breast she loses her breath. He exhales into her neck as he cups her fullness, disbelief emanating from both of them that this is actually happening.
She helps him out by reaching down and dragging her sweater upward until it's completely discarded and dropping onto the floor.
She watches his eyes move down, taking in the exposed flesh of her cleavage, memories of their night undercover flitting to the forefront.
"Kiss me," she whispers to his bowed head of appraisal and he doesn't have to be asked twice, his mouth is back on hers in seconds and he is kissing her firmly.
His hands slip down then, grasping her hips, hoisting her upward until her legs have no choice but to wrap around his, he presses her back against the cool wall and they both moan as their denim clad lower halves connect.
Her body pounds in anticipation of what's to come.
'Are you ready for me Daddy?'
She could feel it loudly between her legs, that Elliot Stabler most certainly was.
END
AN: Lol I got sleepy so I ended it here.
