A/N: It happened. The reunion of the decade happened & I spiraled. Did you? & this is finally happening. We are officially M rated & I think the end is near.

The lock flips over slowly and her moist fist turns at the doorknob. Her hands have broken out into a nervous sweat, her breath is hitched in her throat and she doesn't breathe as she swings the door open. He's standing there leaning against the doorjamb, wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans. It never matters what he's wearing, she's always just as attracted to him. His face is sporting two-day-old stubble and she hasn't seen this tortured look on his face in a full year. When he finally looks up at her, she fully sees the red tinge to his cheeks and his eyes, and the thought, it comes barreling right back. It's a joke, a mockery, a dare at this point.

She just wants to kiss him and make it better.

Olivia thinks of all the times she's wanted to kiss this man and all of the reasons she's had not to. She tries to count them. He was married. They were partners. He was her best friend. Twenty-three years later, after death, after the fight of his life, after a full year of makeshift remedies for heartbreak, none of those reasons mean a damn thing anymore.

She's fought it for so long and the reality of it is, she is spent. She's exhausted and maybe the time has come to just accept this for what it is. Sometimes you meet people and they're yours.

They'd both fought it. He'd told her that he didn't know what to do with his love for her and that he'd ultimately tried to let it go. He had said that.

Tried.

He'd tried and failed, just like her. The thought alone gives her the courage to step forward. Her fingers wrap around his crossed forearms and she forces them down so that when she wraps her arms around his neck, she's able to pull him in as close as possible. She presses her body into him, her core against his, her breasts against his chest and she knows that he must feel how aroused she already is.

She finds herself savoring the moment as her hands slip down his neck, across his shoulders, and then back up again, settling at his jaw. She lets her thumb run across his bottom lip, over his stubble, and finally, she drags her eyes from her previous focus, his mouth, up the length of his nose and into the crystal blue of his glassy eyes. She breathes finally, right into his mouth before she tips herself up on her toes and she captures his lips in a kiss. Finally.

The moment her lips touch his, it feels like history. It feels like they've done this before, in another life, or in too many fantasies they're both too ashamed to admit to. She sips gently, opening her mouth against his, tasting him for the first time, and everything stops. Nothing else exists and behind her eyes, she just sees them in a field of new possibilities, in a field of flowers, on rooftop gardens.

As the stupor wears, his hands find a home on her hips and he pushes forward, walking her into the apartment, the door closing behind them. His body presses against hers, cramming their bodies up against the nearest wall. He breaks the kiss and stands less than an inch taller and he looks down at her. Their eyes dance for a moment before his mouth drops open. "Sorry," he whispers. Her hands have slipped down his chest and she grips at his t-shirt, fisting it, holding him in place.

"I kissed you," Olivia responds, tilting her head farther back, pushing up on her toes again. Her nose brushes his and this time she invites him and she waits. Only a few seconds pass before his lips seize hers, wet lips melding, tongues whirling amongst each other for the first time. He sucks her bottom lip and she moans into his mouth. His hands keep a respectful clutch at her hips, but she's tired of being respectful. She's tired of the limitations surrounding them, so her hands slip around his waist and they land on his plump ass, the tips of her fingers slipping into his back pockets. She pulls him into her, fitting his hips against hers as their tongues familiarize themselves with each other.

"Liv," he mumbles against her lips. He attempts to ask her if she's sure, but it's the way she looks up at him at the very moment she slinks her leg around his hip. He has no choice but to grab a handful of her thigh and rake her infinitely closer. His mouth chases hers and when he tastes her this time, his erection is right between her legs. He groans as he feels the scorch of her there.

"Mommy?" Elliot snatches his mouth away from her, immediately stepping backward.

Olivia steps around him and standing in the hallway, just outside of the kitchen is Noah. She makes it over to him in three strides. "Sweetheart, what are you doing out of bed?"

"Heard something," he says sleepily before he yawns.

She threads her fingers in his hair and she dips down to kiss the top of his head. "It's just Uncle Elliot," she whispers. She steals a glance back at him and she holds up one finger. "One minute," she mouths.

Elliot laughs quietly and he shrugs a shoulder. He doesn't mind waiting for her. He's waited this long after all.

—

Olivia backs out of Noah's bedroom, smiling to herself. Noah, who is such a big boy now, climbed right back into his bed and drifted to sleep without any resistance at all. She has a moment and tears spring, and this is all that she's been wanting. Her Noah safely tucked into his warm bed at night, and Elliot standing a couple of feet away, waiting for her.

When she turns around, she's surprised to find him standing there with both of his hands shoved into his pockets. He smiles and lifts both of his eyebrows. Did that really happen, his eyes ask.

She doesn't have a verbal answer for him. She walks up to him, invading his space, but not touching him. She hesitates for a moment before she slides her hands up his chest, gathering the fabric of his t-shirt. She's waited for this. She's earned this.

Olivia tugs him down to her height and she plants a quick kiss on his lips before she sighs softly. She seeks his eyes before she speaks. "I wanted to give you the year," she whispers, her lips brushing his as they move.

Elliot pulls back, standing at his full height so that he is able to get a complete read of her face. "What?"

"I needed to give you the space to heal and grieve, Elliot. I didn't want to overstep my boundaries because I respect you. I love you. I only want what is best for you—" Her sentence ends when both of his hands reach up and they cradle her jaw. His eyes flit quickly between her brown eyes and her pink lips before he bends down to kiss her. His mouth is gentle against hers and it's not what she has expected of him. She imagined he'd be so overwrought with sexual frustration that he'd take her up against the closest surface again. One of his hands grip at her waist and the other settles behind her head, tangling in her hair as his tongue tastes hers again. This feels passionate, intimate, a slight shift from the kiss they'd shared against the wall in the entrance of her apartment. Perhaps it was because she had taken the lead then and she's been wanting this from day one, and how could he possibly expect her to take her time? And maybe Elliot, under all that bravado, was actually a big ass romantic.

Her hands slip lower on his chest, over his hard abdomen to his leather belt. She rests them there, patiently waiting for an indication that this is okay. She just needs a hint, even the smallest one would suffice. He's been kissing her softly, sucking at her bottom lip, offering his to her. Her fingertips slip slightly past his waistband as she presses forward, biting gently at his bottom lip. "Elliot," she moans. It's quickly followed up with his tongue thrusting urgently into her mouth. This is it, she thinks. Touching him, kissing him after all that they've been through, this is it. This kiss wraps up the conclusion of their lives before. There's no backpedaling from here.

She'll never leave him alone now, she thinks. Not when he has the capacity to make her literally quiver under his touch.

She's earned this. All of the self-berating she has done. The guilt she'd felt a year ago standing in his wife's kitchen, and the restraint she's continued to uphold. She abruptly steps backward, breaking the kiss. Her hand blindly reaches for the door to her bedroom as she keeps her eyes trained on him until she has to step inside. Standing there, just over the threshold, she turns to look at him, inviting him with her eyes.

Elliot's hands drop to his belt and he begins unbuckling it as he walks toward her. Her face splits into a smile that she tries to hide as he walks past her. She locks the door before she turns around to look at him. For the first time, she realizes she's wearing corny Christmas pajamas that Noah had picked out months prior. They have little Santas plastered on them and she's sure her hair is a frizzy mess and damn, a heads up would've been appreciated. Maybe she would've put in some effort here.

When he turns around to look at her, his pants are open and resting at his hips, exposing the top of his underwear. He pulls his shirt up and over his head, letting it fall to the floor. She's seen his chest before, but never like this, never as an offering. As her eyes drift over the mountains and valleys of his chest, over the muscles covering his pecs and his shoulders, down the solid framework of his abdomen, he waits. He waits for as long as he possibly can before his eyebrow arches at her. His head dips and he gains her eye contact before he smiles. "Your turn," he says softly.

Oh God, no. Not only is she standing there in unseasonable pajamas, but he also wants to see her strip out of them. 365 days, she thinks. Her face softens as she accepts her fate. She knows how ridiculous this looks. She hooks her fingers into her pants at her hips, making sure to gather her underwear when she pushes them to the floor. She chuckles as she kicks them away before she resets, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. It's her turn to arch her eyebrow and she watches as he rids himself of his jeans and boots. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as her eyes rake up his muscular legs, appreciating the bulges there, along with the bulge in his boxer briefs. Her eyes focus there and she shamelessly tries to size him up. He jerks under her stare and when she figures it out, that he's not even all the way solid yet, her eye dart to his.

"You approve?" he asks cockily, reading the desire on her face, watching as she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth again.

"Exceedingly so," she whispers. Before she's able to go for her shirt, he's stalking toward her. Her eyes close as his fingers thread into her hair. He tilts her head backward and he looks at her. Her parted lips, the blush in her cheeks, how her eyelashes flutter as she waits patiently for him to kiss her again.

"You're so goddamn beautiful," he cries before sealing his lips against hers. He spins them, walking them toward her bed, his hands clutching the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head. She's wearing a thin sports bra and he is able to see the outline of her nipples through it. It isn't even nearly close to the sexiest bra she owns, but it makes his head spin. He nudges her until she falls backward on the bed. He slides between her legs, fitting his shoulders between her thighs.

She melts underneath him as his hot tongue delves through her folds. She arches off of the bed, her own hands flying to her mouth to contain the moan. She shakes her head from side to side because this is just unbelievable. It's the warmth, she thinks. She feels it everywhere as his lips suck her clitoris into his mouth. Over her face, deep down in her chest, between her clenching legs, it's all fire. He slips two fingers inside of her, confident at her readiness. She's coated his entire mouth, he feels her dripping from his chin, so he knows of her readiness firsthand.

"Oh my God," she blurts against her hand. "Harder," she instructs in a whisper. He rams fingers in and out of her as his tongue drives vertically against her clitoris and she suddenly jolts upward, pushing him away as she orgasms. He laughs at the strength of her nudge, climbing up her body. He plants his fists on either side of her head and he looks down at her as she clamps her legs together, squeezes her eyes shut. When her eyes finally open, she meets his for a moment before she reaches for him, forcing him to buckle and land on top of her. Her thighs split open, cradling him between them as their lips meet again. He lines himself up with her, grinding against her as his kiss becomes desperate. He is licking his way from her jaw to her mouth as her right hand slips into his underwear. Her hand wraps around the tip of his erection, tugging softly before tightening her grip on him. Her smooth hand glides up and down and he snatches his mouth away from hers. He drags her bra down and he wraps his lips around her hard nipple, flicking his tongue against it, before sucking again.

Her feet push his underwear down off of his hips and she guides him to her, pressing him against her entrance. He looks up at her face from his position at her breast and his eyes focus on hers as he sinks forward. She gasps and he inhales and they both just hold it, pausing their breathing in unison as he falls deeper into her, stretching her, fitting himself there for the first time. "Liv," he growls her name as he drags his nose up the side of her breast, up her sternum, over her jaw until his face is lined with hers. Her hands go for his jaw as his mouth touches hers, his tongue slicing past her moist lips. He drags his hips back, almost leaving her body before he drives forward again, filling her again.

It feels like she's having a heart attack. Like her heart is physically exploding in her chest as he builds a lethargic rhythm inside of her. His lips are still insistent on hers, sucking at her mouth as he fucks her slowly. She chides herself internally. She has no real imagination, she decides. Because this? This isn't what she thought it'd be. She's imagined every quick, hot fuck scenario at the station house. She's imagined arguing with him and being so angry, so emotional that she accidentally pulls him into a heated kiss. She's imagined all of the back-breaking sex they could have, but never this. Never the way his mouth never leaves her body. And even when he's not kissing her, when he finally draws his mouth away, his forehead presses against hers, searching out her brown irises. She's almost paralyzed, so she just bores her eyes into his. Their eyes, they've always said so much more than they've ever been able to verbalize.

"Elliot," she breathes, pulling his face to hers. Her breath hitches as his pace quickens. He pulls it out of her, expertly. Maybe they've both thought about this enough that it had to be this good, this fulfilling. She quakes around him, squeezing him, prompting him to join her.

"So fucking good," he grumbles into her ear. He thrusts one last time before he collapses on top of her. "That was…"

"I know," she whispers. As her eyes close she makes up her mind. She'll never leave him. She'll never allow him to leave her. Not after that.

—

She is momentarily stunned that after all this time there are things about him that she hasn't noticed about him until today. She's been watching him closely over the last year, and it's only now that she notices a tinge of redness to his hair. He even has grey wisps in his eyebrows and around his hairline. He's got new lines around his eyes and maybe it's the new pain he's had to endure. He's old, she quietly chuckles to herself.

They've done this once before, so there's no pretense when she slips her hand beyond the comforter and around his penis. He moans in his sleep and she smiles at how adorable he looks. He looks younger despite the grey, peaceful, and finally, finally content. He's slept enough, she decides. She is up on her knees, the comforter is discarded at the foot of the bed as she positions herself between his thighs. He stirs, blindly reaching for her. His hands find her face and when his eyes finally open, she stares up at him with a smile. "Liv?" he throatily chuckles, arching an eyebrow.

"You mind?" she asks sweetly. His hands fall to his sides and she bends down, taking him into her mouth. She gives him a taste, wrapping her lips around him and sucking gently before she chuckles to herself. This is happening, she thinks. She bobs her head slowly as he grows in her mouth, moaning when he hits the back of her throat. Jesus. She relaxes her throat as she takes him deeper, sucking harder. She swirls her tongue around him, slurping at him before his hands drop down to her shoulders, pulling her up. She laughs as he scoots down, positioning himself at her core.

"Sorry," he mumbles before he goes for her lips, thrusting up, sliding into her effortlessly.

"You apologize a lot now," she whispers, grinding down, taking him as far as her body will allow.

"This is heaven," he grumbles and he thrusts upward, as if for emphasis. He allows her the moment to take control. She rides him, her nails searing the skin of his shoulders, then his chest as she sits up. She bounces, throwing her hair to the side and he groans, feeling himself begin to throb, to pump inside of her. "Sonofabitch," he moans. He sits up, his arms looping underneath hers, rolling them around until she is beneath him.

"Control freak," she accuses, as he begins driving into her.

"Shut up," he whispers back playfully, capturing her bottom lip between his. His hands are tangled in her hair as he strokes her slowly, regaining some of the control he'd almost lost a moment ago. "You feel so good, Olivia. So good."

"Don't stop," she cries.

"I love you."

"Me too," she whispers.

He stills inside of her, his eyebrows furrowing. "Say it back," he demands.

She laughs. "I love you, Elliot."

—

She doesn't understand the learning curve, how he already knows what it does to her when she is held the way he's holding her. His hand has her head cradled as his thumb strokes softly at her cheek. His other hand is fitted around her waist and it explores her back for a moment before settling lower, just above her ass. His hold feels tight and protective as she thrusts her tongue into his mouth. A year ago, she had no idea it'd feel this good. He expertly sucks at her tongue, before he goes for her lips. She's on top of him, but he is subtly leading this in every way. They're both fully clothed and making out on top of the covers like they're sophomores in high school.

They'd consummated a relationship twenty-three years in the making, and the night had been wonderful, but life does go on. They'd shared the morning together, had two cups of coffee, and said goodbye only fifteen minutes before Noah came barreling out of his bedroom. They both returned to work and she wasn't even settled, it was barely even 9 AM before he sent his first text, followed by another, then another.

I can still taste you.

I'll never look at you the same ever again.

How early do you think you can leave the office tonight?

She rests her chin on her hand as she looks down at him. She strokes at his eyebrow, then the apple of his cheek. She's doing her best to take him in and ignore the way she's throbbing between her legs. She knows he's gotta feel the heat there at minimum and if there weren't layers of clothes between them, he'd feel how ready she is. His eyes follow her hand as it runs down his neck, across his shoulder, and down his strong arm. She loops her fingers into his and she brings his hand down, curving it around her ass. He leans up and grasps her lips in another kiss, groaning as she bites down on his bottom lip. She moans huskily into his mouth as his hand squeezes at her, as his hips thrust up into her.

Her hand seeks his skin and she fits it around his bicep, even with her eyes closed she knows that her fingertips are grazing his tattoo of Christ on his arm. She's always found it sexy, knowing that this devout Catholic has always been a bit of a rebel.

His hand drops and he grabs at her thigh, pulling her weight on top of him completely. Her knees plant themselves on either side of his hips, straddling him, but careful not to touch him intimately. She hovers, pushing herself up on her hands. Her hair falls around her face and she breathes heavily above him. Their eyes connect as she sits up and she pulls her shirt over her head. She watches as his hands slowly snake up her body, up her thighs, the sides of her torso before he palms both breasts in his hands. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth before he swears barely audibly.

"The first time I saw you in a bra like this," he inhales, shaking his head, "what were you thinking?"

"About living," she answers.

"It was a bold move, Benson. I almost cracked under pressure," he admits, his thumbs stroking over her nipples. They harden even further under his touch and her breathing hitches slightly, so he does it again and again. "If I didn't get shot that night, I would've found you. I would've ravaged you. The bullet wounds, they gave me a second to think better of it."

"When you…came back…after Sonya was…" Olivia whispers, closing her eyes. "I wanted you so bad."

"After Eli was born." Her eyes pop open and their eyes connect and they both silently read each other. She knows he won't say anything further, won't supply her with a story of how he'd wanted to commit adultery. After he'd almost lost his wife the first time, he had wanted her then. She swallows.

This is so much more than just physical attraction. She wants to tell him that she's in love with him, after only twenty-four hours, it sits at the tip of her tongue. But that's crazy and she won't go there, not quite now. Besides, according to him, he knows already.

"After Simon," Olivia says, slipping her fingers under the hem of his shirt. "And in the backseat of that Jersey squad car," she pauses to smile. "We could've had matching mugshots."

"Any time I ever got to call you my wife." His tongue darts out and it runs along his bottom lip quickly before he sits up. His hands are on her hips and he pulls her down against him, tipping her hips back and forth against his erection. He pulls the cups of her bra down, bunching her breasts in his hands. His lips wrap around her nipple and he looks up at her to find her eyes rolling in ecstasy. "I still remember the dress," he says against her breast before he switches to the other one. His tongue swirls around her other nipple before he sucks it into his mouth and she finally lets a whimper escape. "One more undercover case, Liv. And it would've broken me. I was aching to touch you."

"I wish you would've." She claws at his shirt, pulling it upward and over his head. "This whole year, Elliot. The entire year, I had to stop myself. Even… when I first saw you." Even at the funeral. Fuck this is sick, she thinks. She'd really thought about this on the day he buried his wife and now that she's thinking of Kathy, she realizes that there is still a conversation they haven't had. Her hands race to cup his face and she presses her forehead against his. She can't move forward without telling him. "Elliot," she whispers. "I know."

"You know what?"

"I know why you and Kathy were separated and I—"

He pulls his face away from her to get a better look at her. "Who told you?" Elliot demands softly.

"Maureen," she answers honestly.

"I… don't want you to think of her like that."

"I mean…" Olivia's shoulders shrug and she tries to crack a smile. "I'd like to say I get it."

"She… damn it, Liv." He lifts her by her hips and she takes the hint and climbs off of him. She adjusts her bra as he stands up and he paces for a moment before he turns to look at her. "Be mad at me, Liv."

Her eyes roll dismissively. "I'm not angry with you."

"I know now that it was my fault. She wouldn't have held it from me if she'd been confident in the relationship. She didn't trust me with you and I… I shouldn't have been trusted. Clearly," he looks at her, sitting there half-dressed in her bed. "I used it as an excuse to fight with her and I mean, I was angry. I was fucking livid. She didn't tell me because she knew… and she was right."

"You feel guilty," Olivia says and it's been the most obvious thing in the world. She's surprised that it's taken so much time for it to click for her. Even if she gave him the year, he was always going to be devoted to his wife. "I can't be with you in her shadow."

"Olivia."

"If Kathy was alive, would you have gone back to her?"

"Yes," he answers quickly before he shakes his head. "No. I don't know. We were talking again. It was her idea to go to your ceremony, Liv. She was...trying." Elliot sighs and he watches as Olivia's face falls. "I don't know, Olivia. That is an impossible question. I'd like to think this would've happened anyway."

Even if my wife hadn't died, she fills in for him in her brain. She calls bullshit. "I don't believe you," Olivia blurts. She feels the heat again from last night, but it's different. This time her hands fly to her gut and she feels her stomach unsettle at the idea that this has been a mistake.

"Since when do I lie? I can't play this game with you."

"I can't compete with a dead woman." Fuck. She hadn't meant for it to sound so harsh. "Your wife disliked me enough that when I was at my worst, she kept it from you. I… that first year, I couldn't sleep. I still can't sleep sometimes. I have nightmares. I wake up in a panic. My life has been monumentally changed and I think if I had you, if I had my best fucking friend, then it could've been easier. Even if it was just a modicum, Elliot. An iota. I could've used the fucking relief. Elliot, she was selfish and—"

"Please don't do this."

"Don't do what?"

"You're talking about my wife, Liv."

Olivia laughs humorlessly as she wets her bottom lip with her tongue. She grabs her shirt and she pulls it back on. This is obviously done. They're not recovering from this tonight. "I'm not trying to be disrespectful. I understand that she had her reasons, but I wouldn't have ever—"

"You don't know that. You don't know what it's like to be married."

"I know what it's like to be decent."

"So Kathy isn't decent? That's what you're saying to me?"

"In this instance?" Olivia asks incredulously. They look at each other for a moment before he begins looking for his own shirt. "I'm not going to pretend that what she did was okay."

"I'm not saying it was okay, Olivia. I'm saying that after a year of reflecting on it, after being married over thirty years, I know my wife and I know her heart. I know that this one thing doesn't mean she's written off—"

"I'm not saying that," she whispers. "Your loyalty is commendable. But you cannot ask me not to be upset, not about this." She slides to the edge of the bed and when her feet touch the floor, she reaches for him. "El," she whispers. "Come here." He steps further away and she sighs.

"You're right. I do feel guilty," he confesses softly, his voice breaking. He stands there idle a couple of feet away from her bed. "The last year of my marriage I spent drifting away from her because I couldn't believe she would… do that to you, do that to me. I'd spent all that time away from you proving to her, showing her that I loved her and she still felt the need…" he shakes his head, "I didn't look at her the same and we suffered because of it… I know she fucked up, Liv, but I shouldn't have done that. I owed her. I should've been there for her. We were talking about working on it." He folds his hands in front of him, his stance guarded as tears freely fall. "I hated that I fell for you."

"That's not my fault."

"It's mine."

"This guilt you feel for loving me… the guilt you feel for being upset with your wife for betraying you… you have to let it go. Why do you like torturing yourself so much?"

"You know better than anybody…" He doesn't even bother to finish his sentence, he doesn't need to. "Olivia, I love you. I hated that I wasn't there for you. I hate that I couldn't hold you when you needed it. I hate it and I promise you, Kathy doesn't need any more of the blame. She got enough of it from me."

She bends forward and she grabs his shirt out of his hand and she tosses it on the floor. "Come here." Her fingers loop into his belt holes, tugging him forward until he's standing between her legs. "Can we stop talking, El?" The button of his pants give away quickly and her fingers quickly move to his zipper. "I don't want to talk anymore." She places a wet, tentative kiss on his abdomen as she pushes his pants just past his hips. "We can just go to bed. We can sleep."

"Liv," he whispers, grabbing her face in his hands. He bends down and he kisses her lips gently. "Everything that happened between all of us, it's on me. I deserve the brunt of that anger. Please."

"Okay," she says, but he knows it's to placate him.

"You think it was easy for her? Knowing that I was still in love with you?"

She softens. "I'm sure it wasn't."

"It wasn't," he assures her.

Olivia nods her head. They stare at each other for a moment before he backs away from the bed, pulling her up with him. "I'm hungry," he laments. "Think you can feed me again?"

—

"I think about it sometimes," Elliot begins, allowing his spoon to rest on his bottom lip. "What would've happened if this happened back then. When I was separated when we were partners. You think we would've lasted?"

Olivia doesn't hesitate when she answers. "Absolutely not."

He laughs at her honesty. "Why?"

"We weren't ready." But we're ready now. "We would've fought. We would've killed each other. One of us would've had to leave. It would've had to have been you."

"I hate to break it to you, Liv, but we're probably going to be fighting for the rest of our lives." She knows that one argument between them will never trump what they have together and she almost feels silly for ever doubting him, doubting them.

"I think you made the right choice. You had a great life with Kathy."

"We did," he concedes. "Remember I told you I had a hidden album in my phone?"

"Photos of me?" Olivia asks.

"Yeah. Of us. She found them once."

"She did?"

"Yeah we got into a big fight," he says, chuckling at the memory. "Said she knew I was still in love with you, Liv and she was right."

His declarations of love are sweet and she savors them each time, but she has to ask. "If you missed me so much, why'd you never call?"

"I wanted to… I couldn't." Because of his wife.

"You were an ocean away. We couldn't have… ruined anything if you were in Rome and I was in New York City."

"You think if we would've spoken I wouldn't have been on a plane? You think I wouldn't have shown up on your doorstep? I'd have found any reason to come back here." She wonders if it hurts him to be this honest. "If I had known you still loved me, an ocean wouldn't have stopped me."

Olivia laughs, marginally surprised that only a half-hour after their argument, he's able to be this sweet, this romantic. She knows that this man's love is enduring. She has seen it first hand with his wife. In the way that he still defends her, still sacrifices for her failures.

It feels good, knowing that he's always wanted her, too. He had to completely leave her behind to be faithful to his wife, and that stings, but it's also commendable. It is who he has always tried to be from the day she met him. A good husband and father and despite the pain she still reels from, she doesn't want to fault him for it.

"Want some more?" Elliot picks up a spoon full of ice cream and he offers it to her. When she nods, he steps between her legs and feeds her a lump of her son's favorite dessert.

"What if you came back and I was married?" Her legs widen and he falls closer.

"I'd have begged you to be my friend again."

She doesn't believe him. Not for a second. "And that's it?"

"That's it," he says with a shrug of his shoulders. "And I would've supported you through your divorce."

She laughs, taking the ice cream out of his hands. "You really didn't pick up on any Italian?" she asks softly, placing the nearly empty bowl on the counter beside her. He shrugs a shoulder as he leans forward, pressing his cold lips against her neck. He kisses her gently before he drags his lips to hers. Her arms wrap around his shoulders as his tongue thrusts into her mouth, the taste of chocolate lingering between them. "A shame," she whispers against him.

"Give me your best shot. Say something."

"Voglio la tua testa fra la gambe," she whispers huskily. His eyes are zeroed in on her lips and her eyes drop momentarily when he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. "Mi fai eccitare. Voglio scopare."

"Lift up," he orders softly, attempting to pull her pants down and she laughs, pushing him away.

"Not on the counter."

"On the counter," he tells her, locking his eyes on hers.

"Noah," she reminds him of her sleeping son.

"I'll make you come quickly," he says confidently. She's never done anything like this with anyone. Not out in the open in the middle of her kitchen. Sure, she's probably had a visitor or two, but never when Noah was around. Never with him sleeping in the next room.

Except for last night. And right now.

Elliot has always been the exception to every rule. "Lift up, baby," he coaxes, tugging on her pants. Olivia smiles, leaning back on her extended arms. She'll do anything, she thinks, if he calls her baby. She lifts her hips and he slides her pants and underwear off of her legs. She's embarrassingly wet and she knows that he sees it the moment her bends between her legs, just as she's asked of him.

"Hurry," she urges, peering above him, her eyes darting to the hallway. She'll just die if Noah wakes up, she knows it.

The thought leaves her the moment his tongue licks up the length of her, gathering the sap of her on his tastebuds. She moans, for both the visual and the feeling of his head between her thighs. His tongue dips into her, inside of her, before he focuses on her clitoris. His tongue swirls and she thinks for a moment that maybe he's writing her name with it. Olivia. She's never been so fond of her name until now. His mouth moves to her thigh, biting it gently as his fingers slip inside of her. He pulls back, looks up the length of her body, appreciating the way she arches for him. She whispers his name as his mouth returns to her clitoris. His free hand slides into her shirt, cupping her breast around her bra, squeezing as he sucks on her, pumps in and out of her, over and over until she begins gripping at his fingers.

Maybe this will be their thing, she thinks. Some arguing, followed by some late-night trips to the kitchen and mind-blowing oral on the counter.

She loves it for them.

She pants softly, cognizant to keep her vocalizations at bay as he easily brings her to orgasm. "You wanted my head between your legs and you got it," he whispers, against her skin. He kisses his way up from her groin, dipping his tongue into her belly button, up the valley between her breasts, until he pulls her to a sitting position, her shirt falling back over her torso. "What else do you want, Liv?"

"I'd like to get my naked ass off of this counter, for one," she says with a chuckle. He laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck. He leans forward and his mouth covers hers, allowing her to taste herself on him. "Can we go to bed, El?" He pulls her off of the counter, pressing his erection against her. He'd only have to let his pants slide down and he could get inside of her easily. "Put me down," she commands softly, reading the mischief on his handsome face. "We're not going to make it to the room, I guarantee you we'll end up against the wall and we can't." He allows her feet to touch the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, before she hooks both of her hands around one of his wrists, pulling him behind her. "I want you to make love to me, Elliot."

Three-hundred and sixty-six days later.

She's earned it.