A/N: you should thank humanwhip & puffpuffpuff718 for this.
The morning after Fin's wedding, well after 10 AM, Olivia finds herself still resting on Elliot's chest. His fingers are softly gripped in her hair and the first thing she feels is his chest rising and falling, followed by his snoring, his breath on her face, and the hair on his chest tickling her cheek. The bright sunlight burns the back of her eyelids and it is only seconds later that they are fully woken by hotel staff, kindly reminding them it is time for checkout.
For some reason she expects them to fall into awkward territory, but after he walks back from answering the door, he towers over her and presses a searing kiss to her lips. "Wake up, honey," he whispers. "Time for a walk of shame." When her eyes finally flutter completely open, she finds him smiling down at her. "Morning."
"Good morning, my love."
"My love?" he asks grinning. "I like that." He'd never pictured her to be the type to have pet names and he never figured he'd be the type to enjoy it. "I haven't slept like that in so long." It was actually a little jarring, getting that amount of rest in one session. "Honestly, I gave up on ever getting real sleep again," he says as they both dress on opposite sides of the bed.
"Do you see my shoes?" Olivia asks, pulling her zipper up as high as she can. She walks around the bed, spinning just as approaches him and without words, he zips her dress up.
"I'll find them," he promises, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. He doesn't bother re-tying his tie, just shoves it into his pocket with his keys and his wallet. When he finds her shoes, he kneels before her, lining them up at her feet. Her hands use his shoulders for balance and she shivers when his hands run along her bare calves.
They barely make it out in time and as Elliot checks them out at the front desk, Olivia quietly reminds him of the last thing he'd said to her last night. "Thought you were only taking a nap," she whispers seductively in his ear. His arm slings around her waist and he pulls her against him, dipping his head down to run his nose against her cheek. It sends a chill down her spine and her eyes slip closed in anticipation.
"Come home with me and I'll give—"
"Captain Benson? Detective Stabler?" Olivia's eyes widen immediately and a gasp expels from her mouth at the familiar sound of her Sergeant's voice. Luck is not on their side and she hears Fin's laughter growing louder and louder the closer he gets to them.
"Just ignore him," Olivia whispers.
"He's right there," Elliot laughs. He quickly signs their receipt and smiles at the front desk receptionist before he has to physically spin Olivia around to greet Fin. "Good morning, Fin." They clap hands and embrace in a hug, while Olivia fights to hide her burning face, burying it behind her handbag.
"Looks like it is a wonderful morning," Fin teases, grinning. He's wearing a matching short set, no doubt prepared for his tropical honeymoon with his new wife.
Elliot, calm as ever, changes the subject, "you guys headed to the airport?"
"Just waiting on Phoebe. The taxi is outside," Fin explains, his eyes glued to Olivia. "Captain," he says again.
Finally, she looks up, and even through the embarrassment, she clears her throat and nods her head as an acknowledgment of his greeting. "Fin, be safe. Send Phoebe my love. If you know what's good for you, you'll take this week off and learn how to keep your mouth shut."
"Is that an order, Captain?"
"It is." Olivia gives him a tightlipped smile before she grabs a hold of Elliot's hand, pulling him toward the exit.
"Catch you later!" Elliot says over his shoulder, and both men share a knowing laugh.
"We're not talking about that," Olivia says sternly, the mortification eating at her. He walks her to her car and after skimming the parking lot for prying eyes, he kisses her right up against it, gently grinding into her before reluctantly pulling himself away.
"I could spend all day with you and it wouldn't be enough."
Olivia kisses him one last time and he watches her drive away. He texts her the moment he gets home. They make it through the rest of Sunday without any promises, but on Monday morning he makes her agree to spend Friday night with him.
—
As she walks to his building, she's shocked to find him standing there with a welcoming smile on his face. "We need to get dinner," he says as an explanation. "I don't think if you come up we'll ever leave," he admits, as she closes the space between them.
Olivia smirks and for the second time, she reminds him, "I'm not spending the night." She steps directly into his arms, pushing herself up on her toes to plant a chaste kiss on the corner of her mouth. It is new, this part of whatever they are. Kissing, touching, hugging, but it doesn't feel like it. His fingers thread into her hair and he holds her there for a moment to look at her face.
"I missed you," he says, his blue eyes gleaming at her.
"And I missed you," she whispers. He pats her ass before he turns her in the direction of his car, hooking his arm around her shoulders. Her fingers thread through his and he kisses the side of her head. It's so loving already. It feels like they've skipped ten steps ahead and they easily fall into whatever it is that they are.
"Where are we going?"
"There's a restaurant not too far from here. They have really great Latin food."
She cocks her head at him. "Since when do you eat Latin food?"
"I've had to venture out," he answers.
"Finally got tired of Chinese?" she asks smirking. He opens the door for her and he stands there, his eyes glued to her body as she turns in the space between him and the car. She has on a low-cut t-shirt, jeans, and a flowing cardigan that catches every time the wind blows. "What are you looking at?"
"You," he says with a cheeky smile. She chuckles at his forwardness and she slips into the car without another word. Her eyes are glued to him as he walks around and gets in on the driver's side. "Mamajuana is the restaurant. Look up the menu so you can decide what you want." Elliot buckles his seat belt and starts the car before he looks at her again.
"You going to keep staring at me all night?"
"Why is this not shocking to you?"
"Who says it's not?" Olivia asks turning her attention to her phone. "I am exceptionally shocked," she says before she lowers her voice to a whisper, "I've seen your penis."
"My penis?" he chuckles. "That's the shocking part?"
"The sex," she mutters, smiling down at her phone. She feels him bending over, attempting to catch her eyes, but she doesn't give in.
"I never knew you were shy."
"I'm not."
"You won't even look at me, Liv." He reaches out and he grasps her chin in his hand. He pulls her face in his direction, angling it until her eyes finally meet his. "I've been thinking about you all week."
"Me too."
"About how..." he blows a breath through his lips and he shakes his head, his eyebrows extended into his forehead. Disbelief flashes across his features before finally his head pauses and he holds her focus for a beat. His eyes drop down to her crotch, lingering for only a moment before his eyes meet hers again. "Liv—"
"It was great, wasn't it?" Her cheeks are probably red, she thinks. She feels the burn and the flutter in her chest that comes with her sudden modesty.
"I see why all those idiots were falling for you." He lets her chin go and his hand drops to grasp her hand, giving it a squeeze before putting the car into drive.
"I bet," she says.
"I'm never leaving you alone now," he says.
"Oh, that's all I needed to do back then? Get you to sleep with me?" Then you never would've left? She doesn't finish the sentence but the implication is obvious and it thickens the air between them.
Next to her Elliot shakes his head, but he doesn't look at her. He's already driving, so they fall into a bout of awkward tension before he clears his throat. "This is more than sex."
"I know. I didn't mean that," she mumbles. She goes for his hand again and she brings it to her mouth, planting a kiss over his knuckles. "Sorry."
"I get it." They've talked about it to death. Him leaving, the break in communication, the lingering feelings of abandonment. All that withstanding, she still feels the desire to be with him, to touch him. They sit in silence the rest of the way to the restaurant, only breaking the silence when Olivia orders for them on the phone. When he runs inside their food isn't ready, so he comes back to sit in the double-parked car with her. "Ten minutes," he says softly.
It's not how she wants it to be between them. Awkward or tense. "I want to be here with you," Olivia blurts. "I know things get weird and you're probably thinking I'm still so angry, but I'm not."
"Liv, it's okay. I don't expect us to go back to what we were before—"
"Because we won't," she says softly. "What we were before was great but we're not those people anymore."
"We're not?" he asks and she nods.
"No. No more interrogation, no more stakeouts. But I'll let you take me on a couple of dates and—"
"Lots and lots of sex?"
"Lots is ambitious. You only gave me one round," she teases. "I thought this wasn't about sex."
"Olivia, the core of it isn't, but a good portion of it is." He reaches across the console, his hand grazing her chin. "I feel like you've been holding some secret treasure all this time."
"Anybody ever tell you that you're corny?" Olivia meets him at the console and she grasps at his t-shirt, tugging him into a kiss. "It's cute."
"You like it?"
Her eyes drift from his lips to his eyes and she pauses for a healthy beat. "Oh, I love it," she whispers, her voice smoldering with sexual innuendo.
He laughs nervously. "Stop doing that."
"Stop doing what?" she grins innocently, her face less than an inch away from his.
"You know exactly what you're doing, Olivia." His head tilts, but he doesn't make the move to kiss her again. "If you don't want our jobs to be at risk, you'd better stop it."
"Or else?"
"I know you think I wouldn't, but I will fuck you in this car."
Olivia laughs and she presses her lips against his. Before she can slip her tongue into his mouth, his phone rings and he pulls away regretfully. "Go get the food," she instructs and he curses before he gets out of the car.
How had they gone all week? How did they survive an entire partnership?
Being a single mother and a captain doesn't give her as much free time as she wishes and even tonight she is running on Cinderella time. Watching him through the window of the restaurant, all she is able to think of is how bad she wants him, how much she's missed him, how she is unable to wait to get him inside of her again.
He places the food in the back seat and he starts the car quickly before making a u-turn to go back in the direction of his apartment. Olivia turns the radio on and she slips her hand into his right hand, pulling it into her lap. His fingers instinctively wrap around the inside of her thigh, sliding up until his pinky touches right between her legs. Olivia jerks her hips in response and his hand squeezes.
"El," she whimpers.
He pulls in a sharp breath of air and he glances at her. "Pull your pants down," he says softly, stopping at a red light, his eyes dancing over her body.
When she looks up she finds that his face is completely serious. She thinks about it for a second before she unbuckles her seat belt. He swallows thickly as she lifts her hips up and she shimmies her jeans down just below her hips.
He doesn't wait. As soon as her ass is back into the seat, his hand is tugging at her underwear, pulling them to the side. She moans the second his fingers touch her clitoris. He lets his fingers dip down lower, grazing her entrance, collecting her moisture on his fingertips before he lifts his hand to his mouth and he gives it a taste.
He oozes eroticism and it is remarkable for her. Of course, she's attracted to him, but sometimes sex doesn't always include connection beyond physicality. Watching him lick her arousal off of his fingers is almost enough to make her come right there and he's barely even touched her.
Her eyes follow his hand as they dip between her legs again, playing with her. He easily has her reeling with his right hand as he drives with his left, and he laughs smugly when she grasps at his wrist. "Elliot!" His pointer finger dips into her and they gasp together. The feeling of her pliable, hot and squishy against his finger, dries his mouth. The deeper he goes the more she moans, the heavier she breathes.
If he thought she was reeling with one finger, the additional finger rips a drawn out groan from her mouth. Her hands plant themselves on either side of her, attempting to ground herself. The fingers of her right hand hooks around the handle on the roof of the car and her left hand tangles itself in his shirt as she shudders under his touch.
The traffic lights passing as he drives down the streets of Astoria, Queens all become a blur. The air conditioning blowing softly, the music playing, his chuckle every time she gets close to coming, it all morphs together as one dreamlike experience. His fingers massage her clitoris and at the last second, just as her breath hitches, he backs off, finding her opening again. Her thighs are sweating against his leather seats and she feels moisture beginning to accumulate on her upper lip, on her forehead.
He loves the control, having her at his mercy, her hips thrusting against his hand as he drives them back to his home. When he turns down his block, finally he gives her exactly what she wants. Release. She moans his name, shuddering, panting and when her breathing is back to normal again, she laughs incredulously. He slides her underwear back over but before he takes his hand away, she grabs it. She reaches into her bag and used a hand wipe to clean off his fingers.
He laughs at the absurdity of this, Olivia Benson cleaning his fingers off after she's just orgasmed around them.
—
When they step onto the elevator together, Olivia purposely stands in the opposite corner. When he lifts his eyebrow at her she shakes her head. "Stay away from me," she says with a smile on her lips. "Not having sex with you on an elevator."
"Of course not. There are cameras in here."
"For some reason, I don't think that would stop you."
He chuckles, his eyes remaining forward. Maybe she is right. Maybe he can't be trusted being alone with her. When they get to his floor Olivia leads the way to his apartment and he has to bite his tongue as her hips sway in front of him. She stops at his door, turning around to look at him and the shift is striking. She's never looked at him in the way she's looking at him now. She looks at him like she thirsts for him, like he's the only person on Earth that can fulfill her needs.
Closing the door behind them she expects to be attacked, but he kisses the back of her head and asks her to clear the table. He stands in the kitchen as she stacks paperwork and files and places them neatly on the corner of the table. It's good to see that Richard Wheatley is no longer plastered on his walls and even though he still brings work home, it isn't nearly as consuming as before.
"Wine?" Elliot asks from the kitchen.
"Yes, please."
A moment later, he comes to deliver her a glass of wine, but the second she's within arms reach, it's forgotten. The glass is abandoned on the table, red spilling onto the surface, but neither of them cares.
He realizes that this is the second time they're doing this and the second time they are barely out of their clothes. She only has one leg free and her jeans dangle from the leg she still has planted beneath her. Her back is against the barred divider and her fingers loop around the wooden beams as he pushes himself inside of her. The preparation in the car has left her soaked and ready for him.
It isn't the most comfortable, being fucked against the beams, but he feels so good. His mouth drags down her jaw, down her neck, taking a gentle bite at her shoulder. He hooks her leg into the crux of his arm and he grips the beams at hip level, plunging his hips forward, his erection hitting deep inside of her.
The wood begins to give with his force and Olivia taps him desperately on his shoulders. "You're going to break the fucking wall!"
Elliot grabs her ass and he turns them around, planting her on the table. It doesn't seem like a smart option either, but she isn't going to tell him that. Not when he's locked in and focused on drawing another orgasm from her.
This time the wine glass topples over, shattering onto the table, and neither of them pause to take care of it. His eyes are persistent on hers and the words are on the top of her tongue again. She doesn't want to say it, not during sex, not like him. She can't blurt it out accidentally, in ecstasy. When the moment happens, she'd like to have some control over it.
Her hands grasp at his chin and she pulls his mouth down on hers, muffling her cries as she shatters around him again. He sighs a breath of relief and he comes right behind her. "You made me work for it," he says against her cheek.
Her laugh is breathy and she is spent. "If you want them in succession like last time, you've gotta get me drunk first." Her hands slide down his chest and he dips down and kisses her again.
"Now that we've got that out of the way," he mumbles against her skin. "Let's eat!"
—
He has to blink every ten minutes or so, because he is unable to believe this is really happening. Olivia sits above him, her long tanned legs bent underneath her as she pops another chicharrone de pollo into her mouth. She smiles around her chewing, her eyes glimmering at him and he feels his heart thunder. She's beautiful, with her hair balled onto the top of her head, held by a butterfly clip. She's wearing her t-shirt and his underwear, with the hem rolled over twice to keep them on her hips. "You've gotta stop staring at me," she tells him.
"I can't," he admits. "I don't want you to go home tonight."
Olivia looks down at her watch. "I've still got a few hours."
"Won't be enough."
She snickers, placing her tin plate down onto the white plastic bag she's stretched over the fabric of his couch. She climbs down onto the floor with him, throwing one leg over him, straddling him. His hands grasp at her hips before sliding underneath her ass, pulling her down against him. "I'll make it enough," she promises before kissing him. Her tongue glides against his as her arms lock around his head. She grinds down, rubbing herself intimately against him. He'd changed into gym shorts and the thin material of his underwear immediately dampens with her need for him. Across the room her phone rings and they both groan. "Sorry." She pecks his lips one last time before she goes for her phone.
He watches from where he sits on the carpet as she goes into cop mode, firing off questions in quick succession. She sees him watching her and she bites down on her bottom lip, wanting so badly to just walk back over to him. She thinks better of it and she turns away from him and finishes her conversation. When she finally returns, she appears pensive, but she doesn't make a move to redress.
"It sucks being on the other side of one of those calls."
She chuckles. "I'm sure." Instead of straddling him again, she steps across his legs and sits back on the couch. "Rollins and Kat are headed to Bellevue. Fin comes home tomorrow, so it's still all on me."
"I understand."
"They'll call if they need me," she says, going for her food again.
"You seem sad."
"I don't want to go," she admits. "We've been talking about this all week."
"I know," he says. "You know," he begins, grabbing his beer, taking a long sip, stalling for a moment.
"Spit it out, Stabler."
"I know it's only been a week."
"But?"
"If you'd let me meet Noah—"
"You've met Noah," she says rolling her eyes. "Stop."
"In passing. Either he's going or he's already left. I've barely had a conversation with your kid."
"Because he's my kid. I'm his mother. It's my job to protect him."
"From me?"
"From us," she amends softly. "El, we drunkenly had sex a week ago. This isn't exactly a relationship."
"I'm not saying it is," he says quickly. "I'm saying I've known you all this time and you won't let me be in the same room as your child."
"Elliot."
"Honey," he mumbles, grabbing for her ankle. "All I'm saying is, I could've seen you this week. I could've brought you guys dinner, could've rubbed some of that tension out of your body. We could've spent time together if you'd stop keeping us away from him."
"He'll have questions."
"I'd expect him to."
Olivias eyes squint at him, assessing him for a moment before she speaks, "I haven't introduced him to a man since," her head shakes. She rolls her eyes, tries to fight the emotion there. "My ex."
Elliot turns toward the television, grabbing for the remote. "You can say his name," he tells her. He doesn't say anything further, but she sees the slight hostility settle over him in the way that he juts his chin forward. Even from the side, she sees the strained look on his face.
"We're not talking about him again," she says softly.
"I'm not asking to."
Olivia sighs and she falls back onto the couch. Ed Tucker had been a very brief discussion. He'd, of course, expressed his disdain for even the idea of her and Ed together, they'd gone back and forth for a moment before finally, he accepted it. Or at least he'd said he accepted it. But weeks later, she sees how angry it still gets him, and arguing over a man who isn't even alive seems silly.
"Are we still going to brunch on Sunday?" Olivia asks after a moment of watching the side of his face.
"I'm sure we are," Elliot answers. "I'll call Fin tomorrow. I'll let you know."
"Okay. Before brunch, come meet Noah."
Elliot turns around and she smiles when she finds that his eyes are wide with excitement. "Really?"
"As my friend," she says. "Be prepared to answer a million questions."
"I'll bring photos."
"Don't."
"He'll want to see them."
"Elliot, I can still change my mind."
"You won't." He tugs on her leg and she takes the hint, climbing back down to him. He pulls her back onto his lap, his hands inching up the back of his loose underwear, gripping handfuls of her ass. She looks down at him for a beat before she bends to kiss him but pulling away before he has the chance to deepen it. She quickly undoes his shorts and he lifts them both up as she pushes them down, freeing his erection.
The third time isn't a charm. She doesn't bother taking his underwear off of herself, just pushes them to the side and she sinks down onto him. Her head falls forward, her forehead resting on his. "So good," she whispers. She gives herself a moment to get used to him again, their romp against the wall leaving her sore. Her mouth latches onto his and he lifts her gently, just so he can pull her right back down onto him. "So deep," she cries.
He unclips her hair, smiling as it falls down to her shoulders, the smell of her shampoo wafting all around them. Her hands gently claw at his shoulders as she thrusts her hips, taking him over and over again. "Elliot," she moans.
Elliot pushes her hair to the side and his lips attach to her neck, leaving a wet trail down her cleavage. He becomes a little overzealous and when he goes to pull the front of her t-shirt down, they both hear the unmistakable sound of fabric ripping. She's too frenzied to care and his mission to get her breasts in his mouth takes precedence anyway.
Hours later when she is walking into her home, her underwear is stuffed into her purse and she's wearing an old NYPD t-shirt that smells like everything that is Elliot.