A/N: A .44 full of bullets. Face full of pale. Eyes full of empty. A stare full of nails. (Rage Against the Machine)
DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story, words, and dialogue are mine. © TStabler
"What the hell did she say to you?" Olivia asks, running through the crib after him as he marches through it and into the gym. "Stop it! Talk to me!"
"I'm tired of fucking talking!" he yells, and he gives the hanging punching bag a hard hit. He does it again before heading toward the water cooler. "And this fucking isn't about Kathy!"
"Then what is it about because…" she gasps when she sees him turn and start wailing on the sparring machine, punching so hard that every error message it has signals at once. "Elliot!" she yells, but he's too far gone.
He nearly breaks the pads on the machine, then turns and punches the wall beside it. He hears the bones in his hand crack but it doesn't phase him at all. "This isn't about Kathy," he says again as he tries to breathe. He feels her hands on his back and shakes his head. "This is...fucking about…" he grunts and turns from her again, kicking at the rack of mats to his left until they all roll off the shelves and onto the floor. "My entire fucking life being burned to the damned ground in one fucking shot!" He grunts as he spins once more and hits the punching bag over and over. The words flying from his mouth are confessions wrapped in guilt and spite, laced with regret, but none of it makes any sense.
She pulls him off the bag and wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer until he's still, until he's silent, until he's calm. "Breathe," she whispers, and she feels him shaking in her arms. "El, baby, breathe."
"You," he whispers, his breath shaking as he wraps his trembling arms around her. "You're the only thing keeping me from losing it," he tells her softly, and he buries his head in her neck.
She holds him, closes her eyes, rubs his back. "Talk to me," she tries again, and she hopes this time it'll take. "What the hell happened down there?"
With a grunt, he pushes out of her hold and storms back into the crib. He knows she's hot on his heels, so he gives up and falls into the mattress by the far wall and drops his head into his hands, ignoring the blood from one of them that's dripping down his arm.
"Damn it, Elliot," she hisses as she moves, reaching up into a cabinet on the wall for the first aid kit. She lays it on the nearest surface, shaking her head, and fishes around in it for gauze and ointment. "You were fine in the box with Salazar, in fact…" she turns to him and grabs his left hand in her right, "That was the smoothest interrogation we've had in a long time." She picks up a cotton ball in her right hand, seals it over an open bottle of peroxide, spins it to soak the cotton, then swipes it up the path of blood on his arm and dabs it at his bleeding knuckles.
He winces and seethes, but doesn't pull away from her. "I was fine, I was fucking fine...until...fucking…" he clenches his jaw, both in anger and pain, "Talking to Salazar...having to say all the right things to put the pressure on him...made me feel like the bastards who went after my father, and then...shit...that fucker Falsone. He had his greasy hands all over you, and you just fucking stood there."
She rolls her eyes as she squeezes the antibiotic gel on his cuts and says, "Really? Him again? You know he's not gonna get anything from me, you know I…"
"He isn't exactly taking no for an answer," he interrupts, and he shakes his head. "And there's...nothing really keeping you from…" his eyes widen. "Ow! What the fuck?"
She pulls her nail out of his open wound, nodding once. "That was for even thinking what you were just gonna say, because it's bullshit. There's a lot keeping me from hopping into bed with the next guy who comes along, Stabler, and fuck you for thinking that just because I don't have any legal claim to…"
"I'm sorry," he whispers, and a short-lived silence falls on them as she wraps the gauze around his knuckles.
"I know Hurricane Stabler didn't strike because some pushy bastard hit on me," she says as he tends his wounds. "What's this really about?" She sighs and looks at him, scraping her teeth over her lip, then drops away when it becomes clear he isn't talking.
The tension is thick between them, and he remembers the look on her face when Kathy walked into the squadroom. The dark heat in her eyes as she stared at them, silently watching. Remembering his ex-wife's words and veiled threats makes his temperature rise again, and he tries to crack his knuckles but she's wrapping them too tightly. The vile things Kathy had said about Olivia, about his job, the desperate question she had asked just before leaving with the keys to their storage unit, it all replays in his mind like a bad movie. He chokes back the urge to punch something else, when suddenly he's hit with a thought that makes him grin. "You were getting even, weren't you?"
"Even for what?" she huffs, and she ties the ends of the gauze into a knot, but keeps his hand in hers.
"You saw me with Kathy," he shrugs, "So you purposely had a tete-a-tete with Falsone? Like it's some kind of…"
She practically throws his hand back at him. "Seeing as how she's your wife…" she holds up a hand and rolls her eyes. "Ex-wife, I know, okay? The mother of your children, I assume you'll need to talk to her every once in a while, so no, I was not purposely giving myself a fucking migraine to make you jealous." She takes a deep breath. "You're damn fucking lucky Cragen wasn't around to see this, and you're even luckier you punched a fucking brick wall this time, no evidence of your little temper tantrum other than a mess in the gym that he's never gonna see."
He smirks, and he rolls his head from side to side, hearing his neck crack as he chuckles. "Lucky, huh?" he says.
"Yeah," she spits. She packs up the kit and closes the box, then shoves it back into the cabinet. "He doesn't fucking trust you anymore, Elliot, and it's bad enough I had to be the one cracking the whip down there with those rookie bastards from the Two-Seven, now I have to come up here and deal with you flying off the handle over something so…"
"So what?" he interrupts, and he rises off of the stale mattress and grabs both of her hands. "Something so what, Olivia? Stupid? Crazy?"
She swallows hard and she wriggles her fingers enough to cup his face as he holds her hands. "Terrifying," she whispers. She lest out a soft breath. "I told you, when you get worked up like this…" she shrugs, "I don't know how to make it stop."
He wraps one of his thick palms around both of her wrists and twists her around fast. He pushes her forward, into the cement wall of the bunkroom, and he presses into her. He leans closer, runs his tongue along the conch of her ear, and he whispers, "Yes, you do."
She moans when she feels him tugging at the waistband of her pants and yanking on her duty belt. "What are you…"
"Shh," he hushes her, works her pants off of her hips, and when they fall around her ankles, he grabs a fistful of her hair and turns her around. "I told you," he growls as he bends her over the closest bunk, slips his uninjured hand between her parted thighs, swipes up and through her wet folds. "You're not allowed to fucking flirt with him." He pulls at his own belt, rips it out of the loops, shakes down his blue pants, wraps his bandaged hand around his cock, and strokes.
He hears her moan, feels her body move as he pulls harder on her hair, and he leans over her. "You locked the door," he hisses into her ear. He slides his cock between her legs, feels the way she coats him in her slickness, and he moans as he asks, "You knew this was gonna happen?"
She gives him a wicked smirk. "What do you think?" She throws her head back as he thrusts forward, sheathing himself so deeply, pulling her hair hard.
He works one hand under her shirt and presses her up, until her back is against his chest. "You think he'd make you cum fast, hard? The way I'm going to right, the fuck, now?" he asks, and he yanks on her hair to make her moan and look at him. He starts a punishing pace, his body slamming into hers, and the hand wound in her hair falls just a bit and wraps around her mouth. "Can't fucking scream." He feels her clench around him and he smirks again. He grabs his belt off of the top bunk, and as he thrusts hard he wraps the leather around her wrists. "Turn around," he demands, and she moans into his palm as she tries to swivel in his grasp.
He chuckles as he flattens her out and he hooks the leather strap through one of the bars on the shaky bed. He pulls it tight and buckles it, then peers down at her. "I know," he grumbles, and he wraps both of his hands around her hips, pushes up, and hits into her harder. "We're breaking your silly, little rule." He watches her eyes roll back, he knows he's hitting all the right spots. He bends forward, brings her legs up as he moves, and when he feels her hook her ankles around his back, he chuckles. "We only have one rule, now, you fucking know that."
She nods, kissing him back hungrily when he slants his mouth over hers. She moans into his mouth when he slaps her ass hard. He does it again and her back arches. "Elliot," she cries, muffled by his kiss. She knows why he's doing this, she knows why he needs this right now, and she knows what he wants from her at this moment.
He moves his lips across her face, down her chin, along her jawline, and he sinks his teeth into the patch of skin at the spot where her perfect neck meets her smooth shoulder. He feels her clamp around him hard, so tightly, and he knows she's cumming. "Fuck, yeah, baby," he pants, "God, I fucking love you." He thrusts through her pulsing convulsions and he sinks his teeth into her again as his hands find homes, one around her body to pull her closer to him, the other pressing over her mouth to keep her from screaming. "Again," he says firmly, and he's driving into her with enough force to shake the bed. "Fucking...cum...for me," he growls, and he feels his body tighten. He knows he's going to blow.
She twists and tugs at the belt wrapped around her wrists, her body arching, and she knows he's leaving marks with his teeth, with his strong hands, with his powerful thrusts. He doesn't need to demand it, but she knows why he does, and she rolls her hips up to meet his downward hits and closes her eyes as she feels the intensity roll through her one more time.
He keeps moving, thrusting, feeling her throb around him, and he cums with a guttural cry of her name as his entire body seizes. He fires into her, over and over, and he can't fight it back anymore. He growls her name as he moves again, thrusting hard and fast to get where he needs to be, until he feels the painful burn that he loves so fucking much. He reaches up and unstraps her wrists, hears the belt fall to the floor, and he rolls them over and pulls her down as he finally lets it all go.
Breathless, she pants as her hands stroke the sides of his face, wiping away hot tears and beads of sweat. "Baby," she whispers, "What's going on?"
Sniffling, he shakes his head and he shifts their bodies into a more comfortable spot. He chuckles at the way their shirts stick together, hot and wet, as their naked lower halves still pulse and thrust into each other of their own volition. He combs his fingers through her hair and he says, "I never meant fucking shit to him."
"Your father?" she asks, but she already knows. She curls around him, her body clenches again as she moves because he's still buried in her. She rests her head on his shoulder as her left hand slips up his shirt and she traces abstract patterns onto his chest.
He moans softly, turns and kisses her forehead, and then he speaks. "I was only his priority when he needed someone to blame, something to yell at." He licks his lips. "I tried so damn hard, so many times, he never approved of anything I did, ever. So why do I fucking care so much? The man got what he deserved, he was a fucking crooked bastard just like his friends, and I…" he shrugs and blinks. "Why am I still trying to protect the son of a bitch?"
She kisses his chin. "Because he's your father," she whispers. "You're nothing like him, your family is your priority, your entire family, and that includes him." She runs her right hand over his head, through his short hair. "He's not around to defend himself, you feel like it falls on you, but you can't change what happened to him, you can't change the legacy he left behind, but what you can do is make sure your legacy outshines and outlasts his."
He presses his head against hers. "It's all I could think about, when we went after Salazar's credibility and brought up his duty record. I felt like I was interrogating my dad. That's why I didn't get too rough in there, I sympathized with the son of a bitch, and I promised myself once that happened…"
"You sympathized with him for a valid reason," she cuts him off as she scratches at his scalp. "You don't condone what he did to those girls, that's the promise you made. And you will never sympathize with these bastards for that, Elliot. Ever."
He blinks at her again. "Liv, you don't think…" he stops, he looks at her. He sees the purple mark on her neck, his handprints on her hips and her ass, the bruising on her inner thighs. "Oh, my God," he intones sadly. "What the hell kind of monster am I?"
She raises her eyebrows and she shakes her head firmly at him. "No, I am not letting you confuse yourself, here. What we do in bed...is entirely different. Consensual, safe, eroticism and violence are two separate animals, and you are never violent. Not with me. Not with the kids." She smirks at him. "Now, ask that poor boxing machine in there, he'll say something slightly different." She watches him smile, hears him laugh, and she says, "El, we have a few...preferences that some people consider a little kinky, but it's not deviant, and it is not painful. Not in a way that anyone would arrest you for, anyway." She props herself up on her elbow and says, "You think I would still be here if you hurt me?" Her eyes narrow and she leans into him. "You think you'd still be walking upright if you did?"
He chuckles as he shakes his head, and he loves the way their noses rub together as he does. "You, uh, you're right. I know you're right." He kisses her softly, slowly, and then moves to find their pants and equipment. "We should, uh, get back down there before someone comes looking…"
"What did she say to you?" she asks, her words breaking into Elliot's.
He sighs and his head falls forward. He tosses her pants over his shoulder to her as he slips into his own, and he pulls them up as he stands. He beckons her to him, and he pulls her off the bed. As he helps her into her slacks, he sighs again. "After she reamed into me for being the worst husband in the world, she told me she was keeping the kids for the rest of the weekend because…" He pauses as he tucks her shirt in for her. The judge canceled the hearing," he tells her, and when she's zipped up he wraps his arms around her waist. "Said there was no need for it, uh, since...since he'd already made his decision."
She stills in his arms, looks into his eyes, raises both brows. "And?"
"And," he licks his lips and then bites at them, "Whatever you said in that statement fucking pissed Kathy off to no end." He kisses her, it's the softest, most delicate kiss he's ever laid upon her. "But it was enough to prove to the judge that the kids belong with me, and he doubled down on that when he found out they'd get to stay in their house…" he furrows his brow. "Which is why you fucking bought the place, isn't it?"
She drags her hands through her hair and bends to pick up his belt. She shoves it through the loops of his pants as she says, "I know child custody cases, and I know the odds would be in your favor if you had a way to assure that their lives wouldn't be disrupted." She looks up into his as she blindly buckles his belt for him. "So, yeah. It is."
His eyes narrow again, his lips curl, and he kisses her again. He lets her go and moves to the door, unlocks it, and he rests his hand on the knob as he says, "I don't really have anything to worry about with you, do I?"
"Only when you're the one strapped to the fucking bed," she snaps her badge onto her belt and winks at him.
He pulls the door open and holds it for her, and as they walk down the stairs, they both roll their eyes. "Falsone," Elliot spits as he steps up to the younger detective, "We got the guy, our ADA is scheduling his arraignment, you don't need to stick around for…"
"I asked around," Falsone says, and he is staring at Olivia. He moves, grinning smugly, and he brings a hand to her cheek. "No one here knows anything about this fiance of yours. You don't have to play hard-to-get, girl. I'm already set on you." His hand moves, drops to her shoulder, her waist, and it's about to move toward her ass.
"Don't fucking touch her," Elliot snarls as he grabs Falsone's other arm and bends it back behind him. "She told you, more than once, and in case you didn't realize what unit you're in, take a look around, pal. You just fucked up, big time."
"Let him go," Olivia offers softly, trying to keep him calm.
Elliot growls as he pulls harder on Falsone's arm. He lowers his voice, speaks through gritted teeth, "You go anywhere near her again, and I will snap you in half, you hear me?"
"Yeah," Falsone whimpers, and he stumbles as Elliot pushes him away and lets him go. He lets out a hard breath as he brushes himself off, and then he looks at Olivia. "If you change your mind…"
"She won't," Elliot shouts, and he jerks his head toward the door, telling Falsone to leave.
Cragen moves toward them, two cups of hot coffee in his hands. He gives one to Elliot and one to Olivia. "Do I wanna know what that was about?"
Elliot swallows his mouthful and then says, "Guy got handsy with Liv. She already told him to back off, so it was…"
"Okay," Cragen says, and then he hits Elliot on the shoulder. "Then that one is going in your file as a commendation." The three share a laugh and then he says, "You handled Salazar impeccably, you two. That's why I left. I had to tell the chief, uh, you're officially off administrative watch. I gave him my professional recommendation." He looks into Elliot's eyes. "Don't make me out to be wrong."
"No, Cap," Elliot nods once. "Thank you."
Cragen gives him a half-smile. "I didn't do it for you," he shoots Olivia a short glance and turns to head back into his office.
"You gonna tell me what the hell he meant by that?" Elliot asks in a harsh whisper, but the grin on his face tells her he isn't upset.
She sips her coffee and gives him an innocent look. "Depends," she says, and then she checks her watch. "I'll tell you in an hour." Her eyes meet his. "On the swing."
He watches her walk toward her desk, brows knit together in confusion. "On the…" his eyes shoot open wide. Suddenly, he's no longer pissed at Kathy for keeping the kids for the weekend. In fact, he's tempted to call and thank her.
A/N: Next: A night at the apartment? A new case takes a personal turn, which tests Elliot's control. It may be the last of this story. Review? Meep?