A/N: The cross, the capital, the pale families, the fear and the mouthpieces (Rage Against the Machine)
DISCLAIMER: SVU and all related plot/characters originally belong to Dick Wolf. This story, words, and dialogue are mine. © TStabler
He knows he shouldn't have slammed the door as hard as he'd done it; he knows the people beyond the walls are confused and one of them is more worried than the others. He's trying to take deep breaths, he loosens his tie and unbuttons his collar to help the process, but it doesn't seem to be getting any easier. Rolling up his sleeves, he hears the door open, he knows who it is because she's the only one who wouldn't knock.
"What the fuck is the matter with with you?" Her voice is cold, her hands are wrapped around the sleeves of her long-sleeved red cotton shirt, it matches the tinge of her lips and cheeks now.
He doesn't look up at her. His eyes are glued to the tattoo on his forearm. The globe, the world he'd sworn to protect, the world he'd promised to make a safer place for his children. He runs a finger along the curves of the anchor, Naval commitment and the promise to keep firm in the grounded roots of his training, stay strong, stay dedicated. The eagle, its talons digging into the Earth, carrying it, holding it, its broadly spread wings declaring patriotism and love and honor. The tip of his finger glides along the ribbon in the eagle's beak. The words semper fidelis clearly etched into the run, and Into his skin. "Always faithful," he whispers, and he realizes now that it's missing something. Someone. He decides then and there that he's going to pay a visit to a local shop as soon as time allows.
Staring at him, flummoxed, Olivia turns and locks the door, then crosses her arms again. "Okay." She moves and plops on the corner of Cragen's desk. "What's wrong?"
He sighs and raises both brows for a moment. "CompStat," he huffs. He shakes his head and then finally looks up, into her brown eyes for the briefest of moments before the undeniably angry low growl of his voice fills the room. "Commissioner fucking railed into me because Cragen didn't prioritize some case we've never even fucking heard of, now it's in my lap, and it's my ass on the line." He rubs his eyes and moves, then drops his head and points to the door. "I need you to get outta here, I came in here to cool off, because I can't really control what's coming out of my mouth…" he balls his fists, cracks his knuckles, and says, "I'm not gonna snap at the one person in this fucking building who doesn't deserve it."
She watches the way his nostrils flare, the way his shoulders rise and fall as he tries to take deep, even breaths. Her eyes fall to the clenching of his jaw, the vein on the side of his neck that's throbbing and turning bright blue. Before she knows it, she's on her feet, in front of him, grabbing both of his hot hands. "So don't say anything." Her eyes find his, and as she stares at him, she moves his hands to her hips, making good on her promise to be his release, his solace, whenever he needed it.
One blink and it hits him, what she's offering, and in his mood he can't refuse. He doesn't have the strength, the desire, or the control to do it. He smirks at her as he grips her hips and turns her around, pushes her hard until she's bent over the side of the desk. One of his hands slides down her spine to the band of her pants and he tugs once. "Down," he spits out, and he chuckles when her hands fly to the front clasp to loosen her belt, unzip her slacks, and roll them low on her hips. His other hand winds itself into her hair and he pulls hard, curling her back and bringing her ear to his lips.
Her lashes flutter at his words and she bites her lip. She hears the jingle of keys, the cling of his belt buckle, and he knows he;s working himself out of his pants. The way he inhales her, the tip of his nose grazing her skin, sends chills down her spine, and she scrapes her teeth over her lip as she feels him reclaim her hip with his left hand.
He yanks on her hair again, knowing she loves it as much as he does, and he thrusts hard, fully sheathing himself inside of her. He falls forward when he bottoms out, buries his head in her hair before a groan of her name leaves his lips. The relief that comes with sliding home is one of the most intense feelings he's ever known, and he refuses to ever live without it. Without her. He lets himself stay for a moment, his fingers run through her hair and he mumbles something he knows she can hear.
Her body is already shivering, not just because of the feeling of him, his depth, his size, the way she still has to stretch and adjust the slightest bit every single time. No. It's anticipation. Her arms stretch out over the desk, and she' only now realizing it's completely bare, no files, no phone, nothing. Her fingers curl around the sides of the polished oak and she moans softly when she feels him starting to move.
He balls his right hand into a fist, latching onto her hair and pulling hard, his left hand grips her hip and keeps her pressed against the desk, holding her firmly while he moves. His skin slaps against hers loudly, sof grunts punctuating every one of his thrusts like erotic exclamation points.
It's fast, hard, his wrath extolling itself in heavy hits of his hips and powerful thrusts that seem to build up from his strong shins and follow through his powerful thighs. The way he slams into her so roughly forces the soft cries out of her, her voice wavers on each one, the smile never leaves her face.
He rolls his eyes when he feels her starting to clench, the speed with which he's brought it all to the surface surprises him. He presses his lips together and moves the hand on her hip, raising it high and bringing it down on the bare skin of her ass. He growls at the noise she makes. He smirks and slaps her again, harder, watching the way her skin reddens in response. Slowly, he soothes the welts, gently running his palm over the hot imprint of his fingers, and in this moment he thinks about how fucking lucky he is, how much he loves her, and how much she must love him.
Her back arches again and she clutches the desk harder, and the only thing she says is a question she knows she has to ask, "Am I asking or telling?"
He pulls her hair again, watches her lips curl into the most licentious smirk he's ever seen, and he whispers, "Tell me, baby."
"Fuck," she hisses, throwing her head back, "I'm cumming." Her body goes rigid beneath his, she feels him pummelling through her tightness, the way he drags himself through as she pulses sets off another hard climax. She clutches his wrist and yanks it hard, cupping his hand over her mouth. She presses his fingers against her tightly closed lips as she screams and she hopes it's not as loud as it feels.
It's his undoing, and he slams into her one last time before shooting like a cannon, slow and deliberate hot fireballs, aiming, praying for a bullseye. His muscles tighten so tensely that they tremble and he ekes out a low, vibratory growl as he gives one more thrust, as if to say I win before he kisses the back of her neck. "Jesus...fucking…"
"Christ," she nods, breathing heavily. She straightens up when he pulls her, they spend a few quiet moments readjusting each other's pants and shirts, and she cocks an eyebrow at him as she turns his arm over in her hands, two fingers drag down his Marine tattoo. "You were staring at this," she pants. After licking her lips, she whispers, "Why?"
He kisses her slowly, and just after he pulls away, he whispers something into her ear. The flicker in her eyes at what he's told her makes him smile and he gives her a soft swat on her ass. "Let's go, we have more work than necessary thanks to Commissioner Fuckwad, but, uh, thanks to you...my head is clear enough to get it done."
"Commissioner Fuckwad," she nods with a slight pout. "Is he new?" She follows him out of the office, ignoring his chiding remarks, "Did Morris retire? DOes it actually say Fuckwad on his tag?"
Elliot turns to her mid-laugh. "I love you," he whispers with a wink, and as soon as he turns again and faces the rest of the unit, his game face is on, his guard is up, and his focus is on the job.
It's after ten when they open the door, and they know the kids are in bed. She shuts the door and rubs her eyes as she peels away her leather jacket. "Remind me to give Cragen absolute hell for this when he gets back." She tugs off her blazer. "We had to have set some kind of record, tonight."
"Jesus, it's good to be home," he groans, pulling his coat and his suit jacket off at the same time He hangs them on the rack, laughing when he sees that he's covering Olivia's hands with the fabric. After he helps her finish hanging her jackets up, he kisses her forehead, then her lips. Then, he realizes they're not alone, and with wide eyes, he swivels around to face the young man standing in front of the sofa. "Kenny," he grins sheepishly.
Ken Tutuola chuckles. "I hang around here enough to know, but I'm not…" he scratches his head and shrugs. "I'm guessing my dad doesn't know about you two, right? He won't hear it from me." He licks his lips and hikes the strap of his bookbag a little higher over his shoulder. "I don't, uh, really talk to him about...anything."
"I know how that goes," Elliot sighs with a longful look in his eyes, a deep seated pain making itself known. He has his wallet out, flipping through bills to pay the teenager. "Never really talked to my father about anything, either." He tries to smile as he hands Kenny five crisp twenty-dollar bills. "You want me to give you a ride home?"
"No, Sir, I got the car, tonight." Kenny takes the money, but he holds Elliot's stare. "Could I, uh…" he looks at Olivia. "Liv, I kinda need to ask him something, ya know, um…" he makes an odd face at her. "Man to man? If that's okay?"
Olivia smiles warmly, squeezes his shoulder, and says, "Sure, sweetheart," and glances knowingly at Elliot. "I'll go check on the kids."
Elliot narrows his eyes, though, worried, and looks at Kenny with concern. "You're not about to tell me you need me to take some kind of statement, are you?"
"No, no, no," Kenny babbles, shaking his head quickly. "I just…" he lets a hard breath out through rounded lips and then inhales sharply again. "I feel closer to you than I do my own father, and I need to ask you for some advice." He runs a hand over his closely shaved head, leans back on his heels, and then shuffles his feet nervously. "Wow, uh, I had this all planned out in my head."
Elliot grins, the awkwardness of trying to talk to his brothers about certain things when he couldn't go to his father comes back to him in technicolor. "Why don't we sit down, huh? Relax." He leads Kenny toward the couch and sits, and then he says, "You know you can tell me anything."
"Yeah," Kenny nods, "That's why I feel like I can come to you with this." He scratches at his neck, pulls at the collar of his red polo shirt, and then he takes another deep breath. "You know my dad, you're one of his best friends, so I need to ask you...how you think he's gonna react when I tell him…" he chews on the inside of his lip and he closes his eyes for a moment. He swallows the obvious fear that has built in his throat, and he looks over at Elliot as he slowly breathes out. "When I tell him I'm gay." The disgust and shock he expects doesn't come, and he's met with a firm hand on his shoulder and the kind of look he's never gotten from his own father. He relaxes.
Elliot smiles and says, "He's your father. I can't speak for him, kid, but I do know how much he loves you. He regrets not having the best relationship with you, in the worst way, and he wants more than anything to fix that. If you're asking if this is gonna make him love you any less, the answer is absolutely not." He lets his hand fall away from Kenny's shoulder and he folds it into the other as he leans his elbows on his knees. "He talks about you a lot, how proud he is of you, and ya know...he's your father, I'm pretty sure he already knows. Just take him out someplace for burgers, tell him the way you told me, he might surprise you."
Kenny smiles and lets out a relieved laugh. "Thank you," he says, and he stands again, "Thank you, for everything. He shakes Elliot's hand and doesn't object when it turns into a manly, fatherly hug. "Dickie was right," he says, backing away. "You really are the coolest dad ever," he nods once, then heads for the door, not looking back.
Elliot narrows his eyes, a soft almost disbelieving laugh leaves him, and he tilts his head as he stands. He'd always hoped his children loved him, looked up to him, that he was, in fact, the kind of father he'd always wanted, yearned for, and that he was truly nothing at all like Joe Stabler. Now, he has the validation and it fills his heart with something it had been missing, makes part of the angry machine living in him self-destruct. With another breath, he turns to head up the stairs, but he sees her standing there. He knows what the look she's giving him means. "You're wearing your proud face, what'd I do?" He walks toward her, his arms automatically looping around her.
"Just when I think I love you as much as I possibly can," she says, shaking her head, "You prove me wrong." She leans into him, her lips seal over his.
He pulls her tighter, lifting her off the ground slightly, as his tongue dives deeper and their soft moans mix and blend together behind their teeth. His hands slip low into her back pockets and he squeezes the perfect rounds of her ass through the thin layer of cotton, chuckling as she moans a bit louder. He walks forward, practically carrying her, and starts to climb the stairs, eager to show her that he's fully capable of rocking her world when he's happy, too.
They're halfway up when his phone rings, and he whines and stomps his feet like a toddler. He's forced to pull one of his hands out of her pocket to answer the call, and the annoyance is clear in his voice when he does it. "Stabler," he spits. "Yeah, you are interrupting...what? Who?" He checks his watch. "Yeah, patch him through, thanks." He holds up a finger at the inquisitive face Olivia is making at him, and he furrows his brows when a new voice speaks. "Oh, thank God, when? Because this is...what? Uh...how did...yeah." He looks at Olivia, his face breaks into a smile. "I think I can make that happen. See ya soon, Cap."
"Cragen," she assumes, and she watches him hang up and shove his phone back into his pocket. "He's coming home?"
"Three days," he nods, and he tugs her toward their bedroom. His eyes flit down the hall and land on the door of the guest room for a moment, the nights they'd spent in that bed seem like a lifetime ago, they're different people, they've grown, changed, shifted, evolved. He moves with her and like a perfectly rehearsed play, pockets are emptied, phones are plugged into chargers, and clothes are peeled off between kisses and sweet whispers. They crawl into the canopy bed, wrap their naked bodies together, and he reaches over to turn off the lamp.
As they're settling, she props her head up on his chest. "What did he say to you? You said you could make something happen?"
He laughs, kisses her, and says, "He wanted to know if we were still together, and if we were...he told me to do something before he got back, because if I did it now, he couldn't stop me, and technically since he's not the captain at the moment, he couldn't fire us for it."
She raises an eyebrow, her lips turn up on one side, she drums her fingers on his chest. "Well? Do it."
He cranes his neck to kiss her and his hand drags down to her neck. He slips a finger under her gold chain, tugs on it until the gold pendant falls into his hand, and he whispers, "I already did."
A/N: Next: Cragen comes home to some unexpected news, which also brings an end to all the rage.