A/N: A .44 full of bullets. Face full of pale. Eyes full of empty. A stare full of nails. (Rage Against the Machine) For the sake of this story, the timelines of some cases and details have been altered.
DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story, words, and dialogue are mine. © TStabler
As he looks around the room, he can't help but smirk. He runs his gaze along the dark walls, the silver sconces brightening it just enough to make it feel less like a dungeon and more like an erotic escape. The new bench is in the middle, where a couch would be, two steamer trunks sit against the wall under the window, each filled with an array of things that, two months ago, he would have been too embarrassed to purchase, afraid that his wife would see the receipts or the boxes and flip. He chuckles at the thought, because he didn't even want to buy any of them two months ago. It wasn't his wife that inspired the need, the want, or the impetus to purchase them.
He bites his lip and tilts his head, then, and walks toward the window. He moves aside one panel of the deep red blackout curtains, peeks out to look at the city below, and he takes pride in the fact that no one out there knows what secrets this tiny fifth-floor walk-up holds. Letting the curtain flap closed again, he turns, and the framed artwork lining the deep grey walls brings him a sense of peace that he's never felt before, and for a moment, he wonders if it's the art or the fact that he is standing in a sanctuary, a place he didn't know he needed until Olivia came along, a place he'd fantasized about but had been afraid to manifest...until he'd had Olivia right where he'd wanted her. Where he's always fucking wanted her.
He hears the key in the lock, his eyes zoom to the turning knob, and he's in front of her before she steps over the threshold. "Close your eyes," he spits out before he even says hello.
She stares at him, her mouth caught halfway between a disbelieving smirk and a full-blown smile. She takes a long look at his bare chest and then rolls her eyes before she closes them, and as she slips her hands into his, she says, "Oh, my morning was great, thanks for asking."
He chuckles and tells her, "You only get an hour for lunch, I'm not wasting it by asking questions I already know the answers to, baby." He kisses the back of her head as he pushes her through the door of what used to be her bedroom. "Open 'em," he whispers.
She gasps, her wide eyes roam over the place, and she asks, "What the hell did you do?" It's not an angry question at all, and she knows he can feel her shaking in his arms. Excitement and anticipation course through her veins as she takes in the fresh coat of cream-colored paint, the new black and gold bedding on the bed, and the fact that her closet doors are gone. In the space once occupied by her clothes and shoes, she sees the newly installed hanging swing, it's silver bars and black elastic seem to wink at her. She licks her lips, curiously nervous, and then she notices that he's also installed the pole, floor to ceiling, and she tilts her head. "You were a busy boy, this morning, huh?"
"Yeah, after I dropped the kids off at Kathy's, I came here." He kisses a spot behind her ear as he peels her coat off of her body. "They're with her tonight," he whispers, and he tosses her jacket over a chair beside him. He turns her around, looks down into her eyes, and he says, "Almost fucking killed myself drilling that pole into the beams." He kisses her nose, then her lips. "But, uh, watching you...dance for me...will make it all so fucking worth it." He gives her a shove and says, "I know you got moves, Benson." He plops onto the bed, checks his watch, and makes a playfully bothered face. "Better get moving, we're down to forty-six minutes."
"You are out of your mind," she says flatly, but she shrugs off her blue blazer anyway and throws it at him. "I have to go back to work, you want me to spin around on this thing and give myself a concussion? Explain that to Cragen, I dare you."
He laughs, a full hearty head-thrown-back belly laugh. "God," he says on a sigh, and he beckons her to him. When she falls into his open arms, he says, "I don't...I don't remember ever being this...happy." He works his hands up her shirt, flattens his rough palms on the bare skin of her back, and slowly he lays back, taking her with him.
She kisses him, her hair falls into his eyes, there's something different in the way he's looking at her and it strikes her like lightning. "You've never been this happy," she surmises, and she tilts her head, bends one leg to work her knee between his thighs. "For the first time in your life, you're living…"
"On my terms," he nods, his nose brushes against hers. "I know." He exhales slowly. "Kiss me." He stares into her eyes and waits, his hands creep up higher and toy with the clasp of her bra.
She bends her head and does as he wishes, kisses him while she raises her arms, and she only pulls away from him long enough for him to pull her shirt and bra off completely. She returns to his lips again, moving her hips as he shoves her pants down and she laughs as she kicks them off, her bare legs rub against his thick cotton sweats.
He grunts as he rolls them over and he refuses to stop kissing her as he pushes the pants off of his hips. He chuckles into their kiss when she uses her feet to finish rolling them away from him, and once he hears them plop to the floor, he rolls them over again. He moans as she works her way between his legs, he can feel how fucking wet she is as she rolls her body against him. "Fuck," he hisses, "Running out of time."
She throws her head back as he thrusts forward slowly, she can feel him slipping into her inch by inch, setting her nerves on fire. "Elliot," she breathes.
He hums as he reaches a hand up, wraps it around the back of her neck, and pulls her down to him. He finds a way to nestle her close, kisses her deeply, and starts to slowly move. Every pass is deep, every thrust is slow and hard. "Baby," he moans, and he wraps his free hand around her right thigh.
She whimpers as she meets his thrusts, takes him into her deeper and deeper every time, and her right hand moves to the side of his face. She pulls back to look at him, his eyes are dark and smoky, they bore their way through her heart and into her soul.
He moves, then, kissing her softly, and he brings the hand around her neck to the side of her face to swipe her tears away with his thumb. He says nothing as he grips her thigh a bit harder and pulls, spreading her just slightly wider. He hits into her harder, moves faster, because he knows they don't have time and he knows what's coming is intense.
She presses her head against his, kisses him, tastes the salt of his tears on her lips as she moves her tongue against his. Her hand is still clutching his face, she rolls in waves trying to get closer to him, get him deeper.
"Close," he whispers. He rubs his nose against hers, kisses her softly, and he says, "Cum, baby." He latches his teeth onto her lower lip, tugs, growls slightly, and whispers, "Fucking cum for me."
She curls herself into him, takes him deeper still, and as his words she loses the control that was not hers to begin with, falling at his feet. "Oh, my God," she cries, and the last of her tears fall at the same moment her body burns and tightens.
"Oh, fuck, yes, baby," he hisses, and he powers through her pulsing vice, slams into her hard, slow but powerful strokes, until he follows her over the edge and goes temporarily blind. He holds her tight, one hand wound around her back the other softly caressing her knee. His lips find hers to catch the scream of her second sharp release, and he lets her ride it out at her own pace, moaning with the searing pain and pure bliss it brings with it.
When she calms, the only thing still moving is her hand. She blinks away the fog and suddenly sees everything so clearly. With a soft sniffle, she says, "I love you," and then on a chuckle, she says, "I can't feel my legs."
"Good," he whispers, smirking at her, and he pulls her closer, lets his fingers dance on her thigh as his unblinking eyes hold hers. "I love you," he says quietly, and he prays for more time, prays that he doesn't have to move from this spot, ever again.
She's never felt safer, more secure, more comfortable, or more completely satisfied in her entire life, and if any part of her had doubted this man and his intentions, that part of her is now dead and buried, because nothing can be denied now.
He closes his eyes and kisses her forehead, and he finds his voice again. "I had no idea it could be like this," he whispers to her.
She blinks up at him, her heart still pounding too fast for her liking. "What?"
When he looks into her eyes, he smiles. "Love," he tells her, and then he slaps her ass hard, watches her face contort into the most profound expression of ecstasy next to the face she makes when she cums. "Go," he says, and he sounds both sad and totalitarian.
She kisses him as she moves, instantly missing his warmth, the way his arms feel around her, the way he feels inside of her. She runs a hand over her navel and grimaces; she's never needed anyone like this, she's never imagined how incredible it would be to do so.
He watches her move, licking his lips, and as she collects her clothes, he rises off the bed. He struts over to her, taking her pants out of her hands, and he winks at her as he bends low to put them on over her legs. He licks his way up her body while dressing her, and when he's upright again, he zips her pants and looms closer to her. "This has never been just a way to get my rocks off," he tells her, and his voice has that arrogant dominance lacing it, the one he knows now makes her weak. "This is it, done, for the rest of my life," he intones, and he hasn't yet blinked or swallowed. He slips her bra straps up her arms as he says, "There'll be nights like...like this...where it's the most incredible, powerful love in the world. Yeah, there'll be days at work where we take a twenty-minute break in the bunkroom and I make you cum so hard your head spins, though you'll fight me on it." He smirks as he drags the cotton of her shirt over her head and when he sees her arms peek through the sleeves he tells her, "And, God damn it, there'll be nights where we fuck, baby. Fuck. All night long, when we both feel it the next day, when you can't walk straight and I can't fucking breathe without smelling you on my skin. Do you understand what I am saying to you?"
All she can do is tilt her head, and she raises an eyebrow as she takes her coat from him, hooks her badge and cuffs on her belt, reattaches her holster and gun.
He smirks wickedly at her. "I am saying," he holds her gaze steadily as he bends to pull up his sweatpants. "That if you want to just lay on the couch and cuddle, if you want to crawl into bed and forget about life beyond the room for a while, I'm here." He hooks a finger under her chin. "If you want to be fucked into oblivion," he chuckles, "I'm here for that, too. My goal, Benson, is to make sure you never want for anything, that you never need anyone but me, I need you to understand that I am the only man who will ever…" he narrows his eyes. "Ever...fill your needs, make you cum, love you...ever...again."
"Fin told you that Falsone askes me to dinner," she guesses, and she sees the way his face morphs into a near-snarl as the words leave her lips. "Did he also tell you I turned him down? I told him that if he asked me out again, my boyfriend, the Marine, would tear him to pieces." She slips her feet into her shoes and then wraps her arms around his neck. She kisses him slowly, deeply, and then she says, "You are the only man I need, the only one I have needed...and wanted...for so fucking long. And I'm sure you know by now, I'm the only woman who does all of that shit for you, for the rest of your fucking life, Stabler."
He kisses her hard and pulls back with a wet pop. "We're on the same page," he says, and he gives her ass a hard slap. He knows she felt it through her pants, and he says, "Kids are with Kathy, tonight, remember?"
"Yeah," she nods as she walks out of the bedroom, "What are you planning?" she asks as she pulls her keys out of her pocket.
He walks her to the door, opens it, and just before she walks out into the hall to head back to work without him for the last time, he points a finger and says, "No safe words."
She gulps, sees the look in his eyes, and she kisses him softly as she whispers, "Don't need them." She backs away a bit, says, "I love you," and walks on shaking legs down the hall, wondering what the hell he has up his sleeve, and hoping to God she closes her current case in time to find out.
A/N: Next: A wrench in the plan, and Falsone? Seems to want to be torn to pieces. Review? Meep?