Authors' Notes: The parallels of Dani and Angela have revived the following scene. You will regret reading this.
Content Warnings: M-rated for consensual sexual content
Frustration pulses through his fist as it closes around Dani's hand, urging her with purpose toward the elevator. As soon as the metal doors meet, he lets go of her and crosses his arms over his chest, staring forcefully at the numbers above the door, as if he can pressure them into climbing more quickly. He can feel Dani just behind him; she hasn't stepped away into the extra space of the empty elevator. When he flicks his eyes momentarily in her direction, he sees that her face is turned boldly toward him. He can feel her allegations coming, so he is distancing himself from whatever comfort they've grown into — he doesn't want to explain Olivia; he doesn't want to explain himself.
She is too close to his back as he opens the hotel room door just enough to get himself through before letting it fall back on her palm. He sets his jaw and makes his way past the couches and into the bedroom area of the suite, finally turning around to face her when his path ends at the far wall. He is ready to put her in her place, to shut her down and make certain she knows that none of this is her business, but as he watches her follow him past the living room, she turns into the bathroom with an unbothered expression and closes the door gently behind her. When he hears the shower water running, he is more aggravated than relieved at the extra time he has before the onslaught. He sits on the bottom of the bed, his hands pressed above his knees as the white noise of the water fills the quiet minutes.
She emerges with a towel wrapped tight around her body, her towel-dried hair draped over one shoulder, and a curious, almost-sympathetic look directed at his tense figure.
"You okay?" she asks with a glance in his direction, before turning toward a mirror next to the empty bed. She runs her fingers through her long blonde hair as she stands with her back to him, and the sight is too familiar; it strikes a nerve of resentment, but another of comfort, of ease. It would be easy, he knows. Dani is available for the taking, but his body is pulsing with all of the heat and hate and hunger that Olivia's presence has awoken, and he doesn't want something comfortable to be careful with.
"El?" she asks, turning to catch him closely observing her, and he bristles at the nickname he hasn't heard Olivia call him in months. He nods 'yes' to her, realizing he'd left her question unanswered. She wraps a hairband around the bottom of her braid as she approaches him, stopping just inches from his knee. "No, you're not," she coos, boldly reaching down to grasp his arm, sliding her hand down to his as she lifts it to her towel. She closes his fingers around the fabric at her hip, and he understands the permission she is giving him, but he doesn't pull.
"Dani," he says under his breath, not meeting her eager gaze.
"Sh. You don't have to explain. I know she hurt you," she interrupts, stepping between his open knees. "Let me make you feel better," she whispers, and he knows that she will. The towel comes down with his surrendering hand, and before it hits the floor, her palms are pressing against his shoulders, easing him back onto his elbows as her fingers undo his pants. "Lay back on the pillow," she coaxes him, and he appeases her, scooting back onto the bed fully and letting his hands rest at his sides. As familiar as the body climbing over him looks, the rest of this is a new experience. His wife had never presented herself to him, never sat on his thighs as she reached into his pants and rubbed him over his briefs until he hardened. She had definitely never nudged his clothing down only enough to let his shaft free before dangling over him as she closed her mouth around his tip.
He groans out the smallest bit of all the pent-up tension inside him, wanting to thrust up into her throat and hold her head in place. Flashes of dark, pinned-up hair run through his mind as he closes his eyes and lets himself tangle his fingers into Dani's strands, pulling them free of her loose braid. The moans he hears from the mouth on his erection are not Olivia's, and he wants to shut her up so he can imagine they are. He lifts his hips up, encouraging her lips to reach the base of his length, but she raises her head, letting his erection fall against his stomach. As she looks up at him, she places her hands on his thighs, admonishing him back down.
"Just rest," she breathes, and he exhales through gritted teeth. He needs to be on top — but not of her. He needs Olivia underneath him, his teeth around her nipple as his fingers drive into her heat, his other arm tucking under her back and around the soft skin of her hip, where his fingers would sink in as he held her in place.
Dani moves up his body, her lips trailing from the muscular lines of his abdomen all the way up to his neck, and he swallows hard under her kiss, keeping his face angled away from hers. Finally, she sits up, her legs on either side of his as she grinds slowly along his penis before easing herself up enough to place his tip at her entrance. He groans in momentary relief as she sinks down onto him, letting his length hit her depths as her palms flatten against the hard planes of his chest. She bounces gently on him, but he can't take her moderation any longer and reaches out to grip her lean waist. His fingers mark her skin as he pulls and pushes her body, grinding deeply into her. When she leans forward, lowering her chest to his, he takes the opportunity to roll them over, but before he can lift himself onto his hands, her arms are under his shoulders and around his back, holding their bodies flush as her legs wrap around him. He extends his arms to grab the top edge of the mattress and uses the leverage to pump into her, but she clings so tightly that their bodies move together with his thrusts.
Suddenly he pulls himself out of her and holds himself up away from her skin, his weight on his hands and feet. "Turn over," he growls, and she looks up at him for a beat, her fingers still attached to his sides before she slowly lets her hands drop to the mattress and turns onto her stomach. He sets his knees down on either side of her thighs, pressing them together beneath him, then lowers himself to his thighs and forearms and plunges into her, easily sliding past her wet lips.
He fucks her hard while the sounds of her moans raise in pitch and volume, destroying any ability he has to imagine he's inside a different partner. His body is ready for relief, but his mind won't cooperate with all of the evidence of Dani beneath him. He sinks lower and slides one hand along the mattress to her mouth, covering it and muffling her sounds of pleasure. He moves harder, deeper, and she gasps against his fingers as he gets closer to release. Then her hand is reaching back, wedging between them, pushing him up, and he knows she's telling him to go slower, softer. He shuffles quickly up to his knees in a huff, his cock slipping out of her body and into his ready palm. He pumps his fist, wrapped tightly around his shaft, as she lies unmoving on her stomach, their only skin contact along this inside of his knees. His head falls back as his climax becomes inevitable, and he grunts as he spills his seed onto her skin with his final strokes.
The relief is immediate as he inhales deeply above her before reaching over to the side table to grab a handful of tissues. She is still and quiet below him as he wipes the cum from the dip of her spine, then climbs off of her and makes his way to the shower without a word, locking the bathroom door behind him.
The next morning
Olivia takes passive notice of the way Dani's hands travel from the spot between Elliot's shoulder blades to the middle of his back, pausing with a possessive pressure, her nails sinking into him. They stand at the bar, ordering drinks to kickstart the Saturday night social hour. Dean sits beside Olivia on a velour sofa; she can feel his eyes on the other pair, his mind knowing what she knows. Elliot fucked Dani last night.
She can see it written all over him. The way his stance is more lank, his limbs less tight, the strides of his steps gloating and boastful — she has seen this same shift in him before, on those rare occasions when "things were going well" with his marriage. She'd seen it in the way he'd smiled more often, sensed it in the way he'd walked more lightly on the earth, heard it in the way his voice had held a hint of hope. And Olivia knows he'd seen some of her own tells too: the urgency with which her paperwork was written, the lipstick that had lingered in her locker, the subtle popping of a birth control pill. He'd always pretended not to watch her as she'd slid the evidence of her sex life onto the tip of her tongue, while he'd listed the leads to whichever case hadn't allowed her to swallow the pill in the privacy of her apartment. Over the course of their nine-year partnership, neither of them had ever made mention of the strange intimacy they'd developed, the details they'd memorized, the hints they'd taken notice of. She wonders now what signs he can still sense in her.
Though he needs no signs today — he's seen. Seen it all. But she sees too, and she envies the woman on the receiving end of Elliot Stabler. She hates herself for wondering why his new partner isn't as unfuckable as his last.
Authors' notes: We humbly ask your forgiveness for our sins. :*