A/N: Thank you everyone for taking this wild ride with me, I'm so happy with how it turned out! Thanks again to cataphile and alrightabigail for assisting me whenever I was lost. Sorry this took so long but whenever I sat down to write it I got... well... you know. Enjoy!
"I love the way you look at me. Like you are about to talk to me or devour me and I am fine with either." - n.r. hart
PART 4
ONE MONTH LATER
She is winding down after a long workday the evening he visits her.
That night in the park with him and Lenski had been one of absolution. Tonight is destruction.
He knocks and a few moments later she answers. It's simple, weightless. He's here because he's finally free to be — and as he crosses the threshold of her apartment, he confirms what she already knows.
The case is officially cold.
No suspicions are arising anymore.
What he wants, he takes.
Elliot steps towards her and she backs up half a step, momentarily jarred by him invading her space so quickly. She doesn't recognize the look in his eyes at first; his dark expression makes her pulse quicken.
After another second, it hits her.
He wants her.
The heat of his gaze isn't a new concept. She's felt his desire and actively resisted her own. The rules of their game have been altered, if not entirely shattered by his return and everything that came with it.
It's too soon - too quick after the bombing, and all at the same time, it's decades too late.
When he first touches her, it's his rough, calloused hand spearing through her hair. He tugs her against him and she finds herself completely fluid and nimble in his arms. Elliot's eyes are wilder than they had been the night they took Lenski into the park. She doesn't push him away. They fall together, willingly destroying themselves in the process.
She watches him staring at her mouth, his teeth scraping over his bottom lip as if he's daring her to make the first move. Her hands fist his shirt before moving to his dark blue tie, tugging until his forehead bumps against hers. Elliot's mouth curls into that cocky smile she's known for all too long. They breathe each other's air, knowing this is the last bits of life they have before the dam breaks.
His lips slant over hers. Just the briefest taste and he pulls back.
She can't breathe.
And he kisses her again. This time he doesn't stop. She can taste the coffee on his mouth that he was drinking far too late at night, she can smell his aftershave. Elliot's been close to her plenty of times but never like this. His hand closes in her hair, uses it to tilt her head so he can deepen the kiss.
In all her time knowing Elliot, she hadn't allowed herself much time to think about the way he would kiss. The thought would overload her senses, not letting her dwell on the details for years. Sometimes late at night, her hand would fall beneath the waistband of her underwear, and even when she would be drawing quick circles over the slippery skin between her thighs, she couldn't think of his mouth. Only the thought of his body driving into hers would push her over the edge - her teeth sinking into her lip to stop herself from whispering the name that had been on the tip of her tongue for over twenty years.
His wet mouth trails down her cheek to her neck, and she can sense from how he thumbs the collar of her shirt that he's planning on escalating this. "Noah's asleep," she confirms in a breathy whisper.
"You'll have to be quiet then."
He states it so simply as if the proposition of her needing to be quiet while he fucks her didn't just knock her off balance.
Elliot is a man of gentle declarations. When his voice is low and even and he's dangerously sure of himself - that's when he is his scariest.
Is he making it back to the precinct?
No.
They stumble towards her bedroom together in a clash of lips and teeth. As soon as Elliot closes the door behind them, her hands work at his tie and shirt. He blindly pushes her until her thighs connect with her dresser while he pulls her top over her head. She's seen him without a shirt hundreds of times over the years but tonight holds a different weight. Their intentions have completely changed.
Olivia scans his chest. There are old scars and new ones too - and despite the marks of survival she sees on her own body, her throat closes thinking of the close calls he has faced while overseas without her.
Beside the faded dent in his skin from where he had taken a bullet from Bushido all those years ago lies a thin white line. Her fingers run over the scar before she presses her mouth to his shoulder. She tastes him, consumes him in a way she's never done with anyone else.
Elliot isn't one to stand by idly either. Her fingertips memorize his skin while he works her leggings down and off her body. She gasps in surprise when he effortlessly lifts her a few inches onto the dresser, his hands exploring the soft skin of her thighs. "Shhh," he chastises, and she has a feeling this won't be the last time he says it tonight.
The thought alone makes her stomach drop with arousal.
Elliot stands between her legs, coming and going with kisses. He learns new curves and skin and then returns to her mouth, biting and sucking and owning. She expects nothing less from him. Not after all these years knowing him.
She wants him so badly she can feel her heartbeat at the juncture of her thighs.
"We shouldn't," she whispers, tilting her head back to allow his mouth to graze down the hollow of her neck.
"Yeah," he agrees, catching the unconvincing tone she speaks in. "Probably for the best."
But neither of them stop.
He drags the straps of her bra from her shoulders individually, as if he's admiring each new inch of skin he is granted with seeing.
"Fantasies didn't do you justice," he murmurs.
His words confuse her for a moment. She sees her scars in the mirror every day, she knows the puckered skin that reminds her that she survived. Elliot singularly sees her as beautiful - and it stuns her that it's really him, after all this time.
He cups her breasts, toying with her nipples while he grinds his jean-clad length against her core.
Olivia manages to lift herself for a split second in order to allow him to pull her underwear off of her body. When he returns to his spot between her legs, he wraps an arm around her lower back to bring her closer to the edge of the dresser. She blinks slowly, trying to regulate her breathing while she grips the wood and his lips drift over her skin.
He's lowering himself slowly then - his eyes dark and alluring.
"Elliot."
His mouth parts, his tongue strokes, and the satisfaction is nearly instantaneous. He's warm and wet between her thighs, and she forgets all the reasons why she doesn't let men do this as often as she'd like. Every hang up that has made her push men away suddenly disappears and is replaced with the sensation of Elliot's lips closing over her clit.
She wants to make Elliot work for it, pay homage with his mouth to the years that they burned by not speaking to each other. But every move she makes only encourages him more. Her hand settles on the back of his head, holding him between her strong thighs.
"El," she whimpers, she fucking whimpers his name and she hates herself for it. Only this man could break her down this fast and build her back up with the same friction. She curses his name and his tongue speeds up just a little bit. The stimulation almost borders on painful because it overwhelms her.
Even when she looks down and sees his heavy, lustful gaze peering back up at her, her mind can't seem to comprehend it.
Elliot Stabler. On his knees.
This night will stay with her forever.
A long, thick finger slides inside of her, and she frantically searches for something to grab onto with her free hand. She knocks some folded clothes to the floor in her haste, grateful it wasn't something that was loud enough to cause a commotion.
Olivia pleads with him. "Don't stop."
His free hand tightens around her thigh, holding her in place. Soft pants and subdued moans turn harsh and needy - soon she is writhing and digging her nails into the wooden edge of the dresser. It's leaving marks, she's sure of it, but she can't stop, and neither can Elliot.
When her orgasm crests, her thighs squeeze around his head, locking him in as she shudders and quakes with every wave that flows through her. The last thing she sees before her eyes close is his hungry eyes closely watching her reactions.
After a few moments, her body relaxes enough that Elliot can stand between her legs again. His chest is a deep red and his mouth is wet with her arousal. She tastes herself on him as she possessively kisses him, taking what is rightfully hers for tonight.
It's a colossal, irrevocable mistake they're making.
Yet unavoidable in every way.
Elliot lifts her from the dresser without a hint of a struggle. He carries her a few feet back towards the bed and tosses her down easily. It's just another thing she doesn't let men do with her that he does innately. He doesn't need permission. It's automatic.
Her uneven breathing stops altogether when he crawls up her naked body. She's known his power for decades, though she's never been on the receiving end of it. Passion drives his mouth over hers again, and with shaking fingers, Olivia thumbs the button on his jeans and the last obstacle preventing him from finally, blessedly being inside of her. "Take them off," she breathes.
He drops his head but she can feel the smirk he's sporting now.
Bastard.
Elliot is quick to shed the rest of his clothing, and her heart hammers in her chest almost painfully. She arches into his body, her fingers finding the perfect grooves of him. He sinks into her, stretching her, filling her. They both groan in unison, the satisfaction of finally feeling this level of intimacy proving to be so, so good.
Just like on the streets, they work together. She's never felt so high up so quickly, especially so soon after his mouth had pushed her over the edge so recently.
Elliot drops his head to her neck, groans her name in a way that makes her throb around him. He hits into her, and it isn't gentle but it's just hard enough. It makes her back arch, and she moans until he covers her mouth with his hand to keep her from waking her son in the next room.
She digs her heels into his ass, encouraging how he fucks her with fervor. They quickly come unglued together, rising and rising until she is holding his wrist to keep his hand over her mouth to quiet the cries that threaten to breakthrough. She's breathing so quickly that Elliot watches her, searching for signs of distress but all he finds is her eyes softening for a split second before she comes.
And for an instance, it's just ringing in her ears. She hears nothing - her body crashes and shudders almost violently, her eyes are open but unseeing. It's a release they've both needed for twenty-two years.
She's floating in the abyss with him, encased in a moment, their moment, and there isn't a single other person on this planet she could share this with.
"Liv-"
I know. I know.
Over the next few hours, she doesn't sleep.
Her body doesn't allow it to happen. Neither does Elliot.
He stays, quietly working his way into her again and again.
When morning comes, she drops Noah off at school early while Elliot rides shotgun beside her where he belongs. They're quiet, though she senses that he's remembering moments of their night together, just as she is. It hits her every so often, makes the heat crawl up her chest into her cheeks.
She drives out to a spot along the Hudson River that is seldom visited and they both walk along the edge.
Just as the sun rises, Elliot drops Lenski's car key into the flowing waters in front of them. The bright orange and yellows that bathe the walkway in light signal a new beginning for both of them.
Beside her, Elliot breathes a little easier.
-finis-