AN: Hi everyone! I know everyone is busy writing OC or SVUxOC crossover fics, but I'm not there yet. I'm still firmly in 1.0 when it comes to writing these two. I hope that's okay. This is very short, but something I had to get out. Thank you for your support.

EOEOEO

Her lips are practically on mine. We're breathing the same air. I can feel her fingers digging into my upper arms, but it's the way her breasts are pressing against my chest that have my attention. It's taking all of my strength not to reach for her and pull her fully against me. It would be so easy. She has made her intent clear; she wants me to take her. The idea of it makes my body tremble with want. I know it would be visceral, with an intensity borne of the frustration and anger over the way this case has ended.

She knows that I am barely holding on to any semblance of control. She is waiting for me to lean in and capture her lips with mine, forcing me to take the decision out of her hands. She will not push us over into the abyss without my complicity.

This is not the first time we've been here. It wasn't more than six months ago when I showed up outside her apartment door. I hadn't given her any opportunity to argue as I had pushed my way into her apartment purposefully, caging her body against the wall. I had one arm braced on either side of her head, openly daring her to challenge me. A surge of adrenaline and ample amounts of anger and frustration had driven me here, and as I had stared deeply into her eyes and looked at her full lips, the only thing on my mind had been burying myself deeply inside of her until the images in my head were obliterated. There had been a few tense moments, where I expected her to push me away, to ask me what the hell I thought I was doing. But instead of some fiery response, she had taken in a deep breath and let it out slowly, placing the palms of both hands on my chest. She did not deny me…did not say no…but the simple utterance of my name on her lips had grounded me. I had let out a growl, coming from the deepest part of me, before I had pushed myself off the wall and turned my back to her. She hadn't touched me, and I hadn't looked at her, until the pent-up tension left my body. I had mumbled an apology and left, slamming the door behind me.

We had never talked about it.

We never talked about any of the nights that had ended like this.

And we won't talk about this night either.

"Liv." I hear the thickness in my own voice, belying the strength I'm trying to project. My eyes search hers, but she isn't ready to hear my denial yet. I won't actually say the word, and she knows that I won't. It makes me wonder what I'll do if she makes the decision on her own and kisses me.

I can't say that I'll stop her.

There haven't been a lot of nights like this, but there's been more than a few, and sooner or later, we'll break. Our emotions simmer too close to the surface much of the time now and each time we end up here, the possibility is there.

I know I have to be the strong one, just like she was in those moments when I stormed into her apartment. We can't give in to our carnal desires when our hearts and minds aren't involved.

It'll ruin us.

I love her too much to let that happen.

When this happens for us…if this happens for us…I want it to be borne of love and hope, desire and respect. Not out of anger and frustration over some case we couldn't solve or some perp we couldn't put away.

I reach for her, grasping her lightly at the waist, and push back slightly. She resists at first, but when I whisper her name…Liv…I sense a change, and she takes two steps backward. With her body no longer pressed so intimately against me, I feel like I can take a breath for the first time since she walked through the door, and I drop my arms. Still, I wonder if she thinks I may change my mind, because while she has loosened her grip on me, her hands still linger on my biceps.

"Elliot."

Her voice is laced with want and full of promises, and when she runs her tongue across her lower lip, I feel myself weakening. I want to break eye contact with her, but I can't seem to find the strength. It's then that I see a slow, lazy smile grace her lips. She thinks she has won, that I will bend to her will, and for a brief moment, I wonder if one night with her would be worth the cost.

I realize that I'm shaking my head slightly. I see her brows knit together and her smile fade, and I know her well enough to see the beginnings of anger and embarrassment, fueled by my perceived rejection. I need her to know that this isn't what it seems. It's not a denial of my desire for her; it's an expression of something much bigger than that. "Not like this." I whisper.

Before I can say anything else, she slides her hands to my shoulders and pushes against them. It catches my off balance, and my hip connects with the edge of the dining room table. She leans in, digging her fingers into muscle.

"Yes, like this."

There is a vehemence in her voice that surprises me. I keep my eyes trained on hers, watching her warily. This is something new…this continued pursuit. The challenge on her face is undeniable; a rechanneling of whatever frustration and embarrassment she is feeling.

Maybe it's something more. Something I don't know about. Because I choose to believe that ultimately, she wants the same things that I do. She has to see that this isn't the path we need to take to get there. It leaves me wondering what I'm missing; why this time feels different.

I whisper her name again, hoping the sound of my voice breaks through, and for a moment, neither one of us moves. I can see the rise and fall of her chest, hear each labored breath, but my eyes are still trained on hers. I see the indecision and confusion and want and fear…too many emotions to name and suddenly I know that these next few moments will determine which way this falls. I feel my heart hammering in my chest, and I swallow hard before I reach up and frame her face with my hands. "I love you."

I can hear the reverence in my own voice as she pulls back slightly. It wasn't what she'd been expecting and yet, I see tears in her eyes, threatening to spill over her lower lashes. "I love you." I see it more vehemently now, the rush of my emotions making my voice stronger. Inside, I feel anything but. Timing has never been my strong suit and I'm so damned terrified that she'll walk away and leave me standing there, my heart bleeding out on the floor. I say a silent prayer, knowing I don't deserve a goddamn thing, but I can't imagine my life without her. She had to know.

I feel a shift then. Whatever was fueling her anger and frustration, her fear and embarrassment, is gone. The fight has left her, and she is openly crying now. I see only the woman I love standing in front of me, allowing herself to be vulnerable in a way I've never seen her before. Her hands fall away as I pull her gently towards me, and I wrap her in my arms as she buries her face against my chest. I whisper words of love into her ear as she lets me hold her, and I know that we're right where we're supposed to be.