A/N: But I have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and I choose both. I want to share every single one of your sunshines and save them for later. - Sarah Kaye
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters as written on the TV show, but this version of them? All mine.
The walk back to Hanlin was quiet, Elliot held Olivia's hand the whole way, they took their time stopping to look at the stars and kiss in the moonlight. Not a word between them except his whispers of how proud he was of her, how she amazed him, how much he loved her.
They were both nervous, shaking as they walked into their building, up the stairs. Trembling laughs passed between them as they made their way down the hall toward their door. He opened it on his third try, his sweaty and uncooperative palms made the first two unsuccessful.
Once they made it through the door, Olivia turned and for the first time since they'd moved into the place, she locked it. The click seemed to snap them both into some sort of mutual realization that this was happening. She looked over his shoulder, met his bright eyes, and she licked her lips as she stepped over stacks of books to get to him.
He dropped his helmet and pads and then reached for her, grabbed both of her shoulders, leaned closer to her, and just before he touched her lips with his, he whispered, "We don't have to…" m
She moved the last millimeter, silencing him with a kiss that held more meaning in its existence than simply love. She moaned against his lips as she kicked her sneakers off, knowing he was digging his own feet out of his cleats. Her hands, quivering and tentative, rolled under his thin football jersey, crept upward, splayed open over his chest.
He took the cue and, still kissing her, pulled the maroon and grey fabric off over his head. He threw it, not looking or caring where it landed, and he held her gaze as his heart raced, his breath quickened, and his nerves finally gave out on him. He swallowed hard, finally letting his tremoring fingers slip under her sweatshirt. He waited, bare hands against the skin of her stomach, for her to either stop him or give him permission to move on, and when she kissed him again, he moaned and took the chance.
She pulled away from him only long enough to yank the hoodie and her lanyard over her head, letting it fall wherever fate dictated. He exhaled, then moved with her backward toward the bed. Biting his lip, he watched helplessly as she tugged on the strings of his nylon pants, pushing them along with his thin briefs over his thick, powerful thighs.
His heart pounded faster, harder, both spurring him on and begging him to stop, and his hands worked their way to the clasp of her bra. Holding his breath, he snapped his fingers, unhooking it, letting it drop away from her shoulders and chest, rolling off of her like snow off cedar branches. Once it dropped, he sat on the bed and pulled her close to him. He closed his eyes and nuzzled her stomach as his hands dragged the zipper of her jeans down and open. He felt his entire body freeze, it took every bit of conscious encouragement to get his hands to move again to roll the denim and cotton over her hips. He squeezed his eyes shut again and kissed her stomach, just above her navel, as he tugged on her pants, the last remaining barrier between them and going too far.
She trembled, too, as he sweetly kissed her skin, dragged his nose and chin along the valleys of her muscles, and she raked her hands through his hair while she kicked the jeans off of her feet. "El," she whispered, and her breath hitched when he looked up at her.
His eyes burned with the beginning of tears as he took in the sight of her, naked before him, and he didn't see a sixteen-year-old girl, he didn't see a broken child, he didn't see her as anything but the love of his life and he defied anyone to convince him he wasn't ready to do what he was about to do. He pulled her down to him, took a deep breath, and kissed her slowly as he worked his twitching body over hers.
Her hands cupped his face as they kissed, she felt him moving over her, knew that his right hand was fumbling for something lost and forgotten in their sidetable drawer. She pushed him away slightly, and turned her head to see if she was right.
He watched, stunned, as she reached out a delicate hand, wrapped her fingers around the foil packet he was holding, and tore into it with her teeth. His temperature rose, then, he knew his body was reacting more than it should be so soon, and he gulped as she pushed him up slightly. His eyes followed her hands, and he let out a long, low moan as she rolled the condom down onto his dick, all the way. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he mumbled, and he gasped when her nails grazed his shaft lightly on their way back up and off of him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, scraped her teeth over her lip, and looked up into his eyes with a thousand silent questions dancing in hers.
He kissed the end of her nose, brushed his lips against hers and shifted over, feeling the way his tip slipped between her folds the slightest bit. "I don't…" he exhaled, his breath trembling. He dropped his forehead to hers, kissed her again, and whispered, "I promised you that I would never hurt you."
"Make an exception," she whispered back, and she closed her eyes, craned her neck up, and kissed him again. She gripped his shoulders, nipped at his lips and tongue, and whispered, "I love you."
He moaned and sank into her, slowly and carefully eased his hips forward, and his growling curse was caught by her mouth as he kissed her again. He felt her surround him, the most indescribable feeling in the world, and he whispered, "I love you," over and over against her lips. He stopped when he met the resistance he knew was coming, and he popped his eyes open. "Baby, I…"
"Please," she said softly to him. "Don't think about it, just...please, El," she bit his lower lip, tugged it back, suckled on it, and whispered one more time, "Please."
"Close your eyes," he told her, and he watched her lid flutter closed. He shut his, then, too, and pressed his lips to her forehead, her nose, and then kissed her fully as he slid out slightly and thrust into her, hard. He felt the give, the break, and immediately he deepened the kiss, brought his hands up to her face, swiped her tears away with his thumbs. "Liv," he called softly, a waver in his voice as he fought back tears of his own.
She nodded and sniffled, kissing him back eagerly. "Move," she whimpered. "El, baby, please move." She wiggled her hips a bit, the pain settling into her lower back. She looped her arms under his, lightly scratched up and down his shoulder blades, and slowly she moved her legs to wrap them around his hips. "I'm okay," she told him, knowing that's why he wasn't budging.
He kissed her again as he pulled out of her, moved back in, trying to figure out how the people in the movies he loved so much made this look so easy. He found a rhythm, and clumsy as it was, he moved when he thought he had to, shifted when it felt right, sped up, slowed down, moved softer, then harder, giving a little bit of everything because he had no clue what they liked, yet, and was trying desperately to make this special, meaningful, and wonderful.
She moved with him and took everything he gave her, figuring out the different sensations of the fasts and slows, answering him softly when he asked if she liked it that way or needed him to move. Soon the questions stopped, the hesitation faded, and all that was left was pure instinct.
"Liv, oh, Liv," he moaned as he worked slowly back into her. He couldn't come to grips with how incredible she felt, or how happy he was at this moment. "Baby, I love you," he said to her, and he kissed her as he moved faster, feeling a familiar burn build in him. Familiar, but so new.
"I love you," she moaned, her body meeting his at every awkward turn and angle. "El, oh, my God, I think…" her mouth fell open, her head dropped back, her nails dug into his skin. She knew what was happening but it had never been so intense, so sudden, so different. "Elliot," she whimpered, and she closed her eyes and let it happen.
"Holy shit," he gasped, not expecting her clenching around to him to be so extreme. He was sucked into her and locked into place, he could feel her pulsating around him, her body undulating beneath him, and he wasn't ready at all for what was hitting him so fiercely. "Liv, baby, oh, my God," he whined, and he grunted as he came, trying to thrust through it but only managing the slightest movements to give himself the friction he needed. "Oh, holy shit, baby," he breathed.
She whimpered and cried his name, feeling him moving, dragging out a series of small aftershocks that made her body twitch and tremble.
He kissed her, brushed her damp hair back, got a solid grip on her, and lifted her up as he rolled them over. "Oh, God, baby," he panted, kissing her cheeks. "I can't...I don't know…" he couldn't catch his breath, he couldn't bring himself to pull out of her, he wasn't ready for it to be over almost as quickly as it started.
She propped herself up on him, looked down into his eyes, and she smiled as she said, "Everyone we know...fucking lied." She kissed his chin and his lips. "This...that was so much better than anything they told us about." She chuckled as she kissed him again.
He exhaled and toyed with her still-wet curls. "Because, baby, they didn't have what we have. They had sex for the sake of having it...we…" he inhaled slowly, deeply, and kissed her as he let it all out. "We just made love." And he didn't feel too young to say it, he didn't feel too immature to know the difference. He was right, and he knew it. He blinked up at her, and his heart sank as he studied her face. Her beautiful brown eyes held so much in them, far too much for a sixteen-year-old girl. He saw the thin, faint scars near her left eye and on her right cheek, and he leaned up to kiss them both. "Did I...did I hurt you?"
"You?" she asks on a breath, looking down at him, and she shakes her head. "Actually, uh, you...you made me forget about any kind of pain I have ever felt."
He smiled, blinked again, and he cupped the back of her neck with his left hand as his right smoothed over her back. He kissed her lips, and then her forehead, and he whispered yet again, "I love you," as he slowly moved, taking her with him as he rolled to sit up. "We should…" he seethed when he looked down at the mess they'd made, the rumpled blankets stained with sweat, the sheets spotted with blood, the trail of crumpled clothes littering the floor. He scratched his head and laughed. "We need to get you cleaned up, huh?" he questioned, gently running his knuckles against the inside of her thigh. He winced, knowing that no matter what she said, he hurt her.
She smiled at him as she begged her sore body to obey her commands. Getting to her fett, she wobbled slightly as she held out a hand for him. "Come with me," she said, raising one eyebrow at him.
Both of his eyebrows shot up, and he flattened his hand out in hers and squeezed tightly. He mentally shot up a prayer of thanks because Hanlin House was one of the only buildings on campus where double rooms had their own bathroom. He pulled her to him, brushed back her hair with his free hand, and said, "I'd go anywhere with you."
She kissed him and pulled him toward the bathroom door, but before they got close, there was a loud thump against the door.
"Ow," Langan's voice called through the door. "Why is this fucking locked?" he yelled.
Elliot laughed, then kissed Olivia as he yelled back, "To keep you the hell out!" He chuckled and kissed Olivia again. "What do you want?"
"I got a check here," Langan said loudly, "For Miss Olivia Benson, two hundred and fifty smackers!"
"Wait, what?" Elliot grabbed the nearest pair of sweatpants, hopping into them as he stumbled toward the door. He unlocked it, whipped the door open only enough to see Langan, and he said, "She won?"
"I won?" Olivia appeared next to him, wearing a long, large tee shirt. Her dinner plate eyes zoomed in on the ribbon and envelope in Trevor's hand. "Are you shitting me?"
Elliot chuckled, shaking her head at the way fouls words flew so freely out of her mouth now, when only a few months ago they offended her. "I knew you would," he said, and he kissed her sweetly.
"So here," Langan said, handing her the envelope. "Congrats, Benson."
She took it from him, smiling, and turned to Elliot. "I won," she whispered, and she grinned as he kissed her.
Trevor rolled his eyes as the door closed in his face, and he plodded back to his room scowling. He still wasn't sure who made her more jealous or why, he couldn't put his finger on which one gave him the chills and which one he wanted to punch. He made the conscious decision to ignore it.
For now.
A/N: Next, who's the mean girl in Olivia's history class? What's up with Trevor?