A/N: Thank you for reading! This chapter is *very much* rated M. Do with that what you will.
If I wake you, you wake me.
Olivia gave Elliot clear instructions before she drifted off. She hasn't woken him though, because he can't sleep. He's exhausted, physically, but mentally he's wired. His brain is working overtime trying to absorb at least some of the new information he's learned. It's a lot—more than he can possibly process in one night—but still, he's restless; guilt creeping through him like a parasite until it's all consuming. He dozes a few times but is so hyper aware of Liv next to him, so sensitive to her every movement, that he can't fully relax. He wants, more than anything, to protect her now. To protect her like he didn't then, even if only from her subconscious.
Elliot drifts when she starts to move against him, her breaths sharp. She doesn't cry out but he recognizes that she's having a nightmare. He debates leaving her be, hating the thought of waking her when she needs rest.
"Liv." He says evenly when her movements progress from restless to fitful. He lightly nudges her shoulder, hoping it will be enough to stir her, but she doesn't react. "Olivia," he repeats with a bit more force, slowly tracing his fingers over her forearm. "Come on, honey. Wake up." He grimaces, realizing he called her honey again, knowing she doesn't like it.
Olivia's eyes flutter open as she instinctively jerks out of his grasp. She blinks rapidly, searching for her breath and processing her surroundings. She sits up and clutches her chest, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
"Look at me." He encourages but is careful to keep some distance between them. He doesn't like being touched when he wakes from a nightmare, so he gives her the same courtesy.
"Elliot." She acknowledges the familiar voice and reaches for his hand.
"Yeah, Liv." He says. "I'm right here."
"Just give me—" she clutches his palm and uses her free hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I need a minute." Her eyes squeeze shut while she works to steady her breath.
"Take your time." He traces small circles along her wrist with his thumb.
"I'm okay." She assures him, slowly opening her eyes after a short time.
"Give yourself another minute?" He coaxes her to lay back down and she complies, resting her head on his chest.
Olivia runs her fingers over his bare shoulders, finding comfort in his presence. She's calmed considerably, but her heart still beats too quickly as the adrenaline courses through her veins. She angles her chin upward so their lips align and kisses him softly.
"You okay?" He breaks away to ask.
"Yeah, I'm—I will be." Her lips part and their tongues meet.
"You wanna," he questions in between kisses. "Talk about it?" He hopes she doesn't because he sincerely doubts he can handle any more talking right now.
"No," her tongue circles his as her pulse races. "I really don't."
"Tell me what you need." Elliot murmurs, his lips only an inch from hers.
Wordlessly she takes his hand, which is settled on her hip, and guides it lower.
"Liv." He breathes, letting his fingers rest on her abdomen while he kisses her again. "This what you want?" He dips his hand between her thighs and brushes his palm over her panties. "Yeah?" He's encouraged by her obvious signs of arousal and starts moving his fingers in a circular motion. "Tell me, then." He says, his voice husky and thick with lust. "How bad do you want it?"
When she doesn't answer, he moves his hand away.
"Elliot." She groans in frustration, eyes closed and lips parted.
"Tell me." He grins, hardening at the sight of her. "How bad," he pauses for impact. "Do you want it?" He whispers into her neck, his palm resting on her inner thigh.
"So fucking bad." Olivia pants and feels his fingers slip below the thin fabric of her underwear. She gasps at the contact and grips his shoulder, her heart beating impossibly fast.
"God," He says. "So wet already."
Their lips crash together while his fingers explore her. She feels him rubbing against her thigh and maneuvers her hand into his boxers.
"Fuck, Liv." He reacts to her touch.
"How bad do you want it?" She mocks, chewing his lip while she works her palm up and down in slow strokes.
Elliot doesn't offer a response. Instead, he plunges one finger deep inside of her, satisfied as she clenches against him. She cries out, burying her head against his shoulder. He takes this as a sign to keep going, so he slowly, very slowly, moves his finger in and out, his thumb rubbing her clit. He's tempted to use his free hand to feel the swell of her breasts and tease her visibly hard nipples. It almost pains him how much he wants to touch them—to taste them—but he resists, not willing to run the risk of triggering her. She's so turned on she might actually like it, he thinks, but he won't chance it.
"El." She mutters breathlessly, licking her lips. "Faster." He obeys, and she reacts by increasing her speed with him, too.
They're both quiet now. Focused, literally, on the tasks at hand. Their breath is heavy, hips writhing. Olivia can tell she's getting close and grips his wrist. "Wait." She breathes.
"Huh?" He's surprised, but slows his movement. "You want to—?" Stop. He doesn't want to suggest it if it's not what she's thinking.
"No." She answers emphatically, taking a second to catch her breath. One hand still firmly holds his wrist while she moves the other to his chest. "I want you."
"Liv, you—" He's still confused and painfully hard, but he glides his hand away and lets it rest on her upper thigh. "Have me."
"No, I want," she lowers her hand, wrapping her fingers around his full length. "You."
"Shit." It dawns on him, pretty quickly, what she's implying. "You're sure?" He sobers, losing only the slightest bit of confidence. "We can just—" he traces circles along her thigh. "Keep doing this. It's okay."
"Elliot," she exhales. "I'm only going to say this once."
"Okay." He scrunches his brow.
"Shut up." She grins, kissing him deep—so deep. "And fuck me."
She didn't expect this: to recount her trauma and then, only a few hours later, be so turned that she has to feel him inside of her. That she can't possibly wait even one more minute. Maybe she's relieved that finally, finally, he knows the truth. Maybe Elliot knowing her past unlocked something inside of her—whatever it was that was holding her back. Or maybe she's just filled with adrenaline and needs an outlet. It doesn't really matter why, she thinks. She's just glad to feel the lust she's been missing. To let go of her fear, and let him—let them—finally have each other.
"Copy that, captain." He smirks and positions himself on top of her, his hands framing her shoulders to support his weight.
He takes a moment, albeit a very brief moment, to let it sink in that they're actually here: together. In bed. About to make love—not to fuck, as she so delicately put it—for the first time. After two decades of knowing each other and a partnership that may have ended in reality, but never really did inwardly, they'll finally be lovers. It's profound, honestly. Maybe, if he wasn't already so damn close he'd take a little more time to reflect on it.
"You're sure." He confirms once more. Not because she's delicate. Not because what she shared with him tonight makes her any less capable of making decisions about her own body. He asks only because he needs to know, one-hundred-percent, that she wants this as much as he does.
"Yes." She curls her fingers around his neck, pulling his mouth against hers. "I love you."
He hears her words and pushes himself inside of her, slowly, inch by inch. Her eyes widen and her breath hitches while she adjusts to his size.
"You good?" He narrows his eyes.
"Uh huh." She reaches around and rests her hands on his low back, willing him to move.
He obliges, starting off gently but gaining momentum with each thrust. He won't last long, and it's a shame because he never wants this moment to end: the way her back arches and her hips move in rhythm with his. The look on her face as he slides in and out of her. If he could stay right here, for the rest of his life, he would.
She widens her legs, allowing him to get even deeper, somehow. She calls out his name, which isn't something she typically does. It's different, though, with Elliot. It's so much more than just sex that she needs to remind herself that it's him—really him—so she repeats his name. He, on the other hand, is quiet aside from his heavy breaths. All talk during foreplay, but now he's focused; finding his pace while sweat beads along his brow.
He's so close, she can tell. She can also tell that he's trying to hold back—trying to wait for her, she assumes. It would be romantic to orgasm together their first time, she thinks, but they'll have plenty more opportunities for that in the future.
"Let go, El." She encourages and it's only seconds before he releases. His eyes roll back, then close. He jerks forward, muscles twitching, then goes still. He barely breathes through his climax, then gasps for air when he's done.
He stays inside of her, knowing that she hasn't finished yet. He props himself up on his forearm and moves his free hand between her legs. The gentle circles he was rubbing earlier are a distant memory as he works her clit, deliberately but quickly. He rocks himself in and out of her before he softens, taking cues from her body language.
"Don't stop." She whimpers when his fingers find a particularly good rhythm.
"Come for me." He breathes into her throat, careful—always careful—that he doesn't venture lower and accidentally expose or kiss the scars on her chest.
"Close." She gasps, grinding against his fingers.
"Fuck." He keeps pace, moving with her.
"So close." Olivia pants. She's on the edge, now. Close—so close, until, "Fuck," she cries out, unraveling against him as the waves of her climax wash over her. She surrenders to pleasure and it feels good to let go; to relieve the tension that's been building inside of her since the very first day they became romantically involved. When she's done she grabs his wrist, effectively stopping his touch while she's so sensitive.
He smiles, kissing her forehead before he moves off of her, settling along her side and snaking his hand up her spine. She shudders against him, her breath erratic while she desperately tries to get some oxygen back into her lungs.
"Okay?" He mouths against her shoulder.
"Yeah, just—" She nods into his chest. "Need to breathe."
"That a good thing?" He smirks, his finger lazily tracing up and down her back.
"A very good thing." She confirms.
"It make you feel better?" He dips his chin, finding her lips and kissing her. It's passionate but controlled, not nearly as urgent as the others leading up to it had been.
"Mhm." She hums. "We'll have to try it," she exhales, steadying her palm against his bicep. "For your nightmares."