A/N: She's here and she's a smutty one. Enjoy, but be aware this is most definitely rated M. Also note this is the penultimate chapter, there will be one more but I've kind of reached the end on this one. Thank you so much for reading. I truly appreciate it.
Elliot can't get enough of her.
All five senses heightened and aching for more, more, more. Their eyes lock and her pupils dilate from wanting. He hears her gasp as his lips brush the nape of her neck and breathes in the scent of her shampoo when he works his fingers through her tresses. He tastes her lips, and as for touch? It may be the sharpest sense of all.
He arrived only minutes ago but already has Olivia pinned against the back of the door, relishing in the privacy of her empty apartment. Noah's gone for the weekend; upstate at a dance intensive. Apart from the possibility of an urgent case, the next two days belong to them. No kids. No work. No distractions.
Liv loops her arms around Elliot's neck, her tongue exploring his. "Bedroom." She releases a soft moan when his hand grazes her thigh.
It's an order, and he obeys.
They move to her room though their lips never part. Their kisses are so hot—so desperate—that Elliot begins to sweat. He thirsts for her in every sense, groaning when her fingers fumble with his belt buckle. She leaves his pants on for now, but lifts his shirt over his head and glides her lips across his chest, her tongue circling each nipple.
"Fuck." He manages, feeling for the hem of her shirt. His free hand finds the light and instinctively switches it off, knowing he'll kill the mood should he ask to leave it on. Olivia feels safer this way; with her scars protected and shrouded by darkness. Her shame and discomfort run deeper than Elliot can possibly understand, but she lets him touch her bare chest—enjoys it, even—and it's more than enough for him. For both of them.
"Leave it on." She breathes.
"Liv," He narrows his gaze, unsure he's hearing her correctly.
"Leave it on." She's more authoritative now, a blaze of confidence in her eyes.
He wordlessly flips the switch, knowing better than to question her. His gaze travels as he starts undoing her blouse, button-by-button. He's deliberate with his movements, taking his time to allow her every chance to change her mind; so afraid he'll trigger her but she doesn't falter. Instead, she helps him by working the remaining buttons until their fingertips meet in the center. She relaxes her shoulders as Elliot slides the material over her arms and lets it drop to the floor.
"Okay?" He asks.
She nods, letting out a deep exhale before she unclasps her bra; her eyes closing as it slips off.
Elliot's body reacts first. He was already hard, but now his erection throbs against the crotch of his jeans, begging for release. His pulse quickens and a bead of sweat drips from his brow because, God, the sight of her takes his breath away—scars and all. He's caught glimpses during sex, when the city lights reflect through the window just right and illuminate her skin, but never like this. Never because she wanted him to. Never because she showed him.
"Open your eyes." He coaxes, taking her hand and guiding them to the bed. He sits her down and traces his fingers over the scars that pepper her chest, studying her eyes for any sign of discomfort. He feels her rapid heartbeat beneath his palm and takes notice of the way her lips part when he touches her. She leans into him, craving contact.
"You're beautiful." His tone is heavy with arousal. "So fucking sexy." He runs his tongue over his lips and pinches her nipples, grinning when they harden against his fingertips. "Good?" He confirms.
"Mmm." She hums because words won't find her now.
"Yeah?" He rolls them between his thumb and pointer. "You wanna tell me how much you like it?"
Olivia arches her back, impossibly turned on but also relieved because it feels so good. Her breasts have always been sensitive, but after her trauma the anxiety made it difficult for her to derive much pleasure there. For so many years her chest has been nothing but a constant reminder of her past, so to feel this good—to feel this turned on—is far more meaningful than she can express.
His breath is hot on her neck, inching lower but stopping once he reaches her collarbone. He doesn't dare dip below. He knows better. The last time he tried it spiraled her into a panic attack so severe she nearly swore off sex entirely.
"El," her voice is strained.
He stills for a moment, sensing her hesitation. "Right here." He reaches for her hand and finds her eyes.
"No, I—I'm good." She assures him. "I want you to—"
"Want me to, what?" He simpers, resuming his movements. "Tell me."
She applies the slightest amount of pressure to the top of his head, encouraging him to move lower.
"You want—Liv, you—" He stumbles over his words because he wants this. Of course, he does. He wants to taste every inch of her, to kiss every spot on her body. Still, it's uncharted territory for both of them so he's a bit hesitant.
"Elliot, yes." She smiles because honestly, he's cute when he worries. "Don't make me change my mind."
Not missing a beat, he traces his tongue lower, lower, lower, until he reaches the swell of her breasts. He takes his time, teasing just enough to get her worked up before he swirls his tongue around one nipple while his fingers work the other.
"Fuck." Olivia gasps. She had almost forgotten how good this can be; how sensitive she is. He's being too gentle and she wouldn't mind him feeling his teeth, but she doesn't push it. Not tonight, anyway.
Elliot's lips glide down her body and she lifts her hips as he slides her pants off. He kisses her inner thighs, his tongue hitting every spot except where she needs him most. He senses how wet she is but his suspicions are confirmed when he runs his fingers over the smooth fabric of her underwear; the only remaining barrier between his fingertips and her center.
"Tease." She groans.
"Not sure what you mean, captain." He replies coyly, his index finger slowly traveling up and down her slit.
"Oh, fuck you." She grinds her hips into his finger, desperate to create friction.
"Not yet." Elliot says, continuing to tease. "Because I want," he presses his thumb hard against her clit. "To take my time with you."
Her muscles tense when he finally, finally, takes off her underwear and grips the outside of her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the bed. "So fucking wet for me." He whispers, his breath hot against her core. Unable to wait any longer, he spreads her legs and moves in to taste her; his tongue circling her folds.
She moves with him, eyes closed and chest heaving while her hips match his pace. It usually takes her time to come, but Elliot's hitting all the right spots. "Don't stop." She pleads.
He takes it as an invitation to slide one finger inside of her, knowing she'd prefer two. He swirls his tongue faster, faster, faster.
"Close." She rasps, her face twisted with pleasure.
"Open your eyes, Liv."
"El," she whimpers.
"Open your eyes." Elliot repeats, watching her eyelids flutter. He debates teasing her some more—making her wait for it—but she's already given him so much tonight that it hardly seems fair. "I want you to look at me," he husks, sliding in a second finger. "When you come."
Their eyes lock and she unravels. Her back arches and she lets out a deep moan because, for once, Noah isn't next door and she doesn't have to be quiet. Her entire body shudders, pleasure rippling through her until she's so sensitive that she closes her legs, turning slightly and gasping for breath.
"Fuck." She inhales sharply, feeling his hands move up her body as he pulls her toward the center of the bed, shifting his position to lay next to her. She's trembling and he gently puts his palm on her cheek, leaning in and kissing her, allowing her to taste herself on his lips.
"You okay?" He asks, their faces only inches apart.
"Need a second." She rests her forehead against his, finding her breath.
"That good, huh?" He smirks, clearly pleased with his performance.
"Don't get cocky." Olivia swats him playfully. "Speaking of," her eyes trail to his belt buckle. "Those need to come off." She says it like an order, because it most definitely is one. "Now."
He happily obeys, his cock desperate for release.
Her palm breezes over his chest, tracing downward until it rests on his low belly. "You teased me." She whispers into his ear. "So now it's my turn." She lets her fingers dance just about an inch lower. "To tease you."
"Liv," his voice is so incredibly sexy when he's this turned on. "I'm not gonna—"
"Not gonna, what?" She meanders lower. "Not gonna," she grazes his cock. "Beg?"
"Fuck."
"Not gonna…" she continues, wrapping her fingers around his full length as she begins stroking him.
"Not gonna last, Liv." He groans, because he was already on the edge and her teasing doesn't help.
"Ah," she simpers. "Well, in that case." She takes him in her mouth slowly but expertly. She knows just what he likes; just what makes him squirm. Truth is, there's very little he doesn't like, but she's learned to hit the right balance of keeping him satisfied while still wanting.
"Jesus." He stammers, his breath coming in short shallow gasps because her mouth feels so damn good.
She feels his hand on the back of her head, his fingers tangling through her hair as he writhes beneath her. She takes him deeper, as far back as she can without choking.
"Stop." He rasps, though it pains him to say it.
"Huh?" She looks up at him, brows raised. "Did I—" she flushes, worry etched into the creases of her forehead. "Did I do somethi—"
"No." He laughs, pulling her next to him. "Fuck, no." He emphasizes. "I just—I don't want to—" he's suddenly embarrassed, as if he doesn't love talking dirty with her. "Not yet." He chews his lip, his eyes darting up and down her body and taking her in. "Want us to do it together."
"Oh," she breathes, visibly relieved. "How romantic." Her tone is mocking, but there's an undeniable air of sincerity to it.
"Not that romantic." He smirks. "Because I need you," he reaches between her legs, grinning when he feels how wet—how ready—she is. "Right now." Elliot finds her eyes, waiting for her consent.
"Then take me." She bites his bottom lip as he slides into her, her eyes widening as her muscles tense around him and adjust to his size.
It's never been like this with any other man. Not that she's spent her life unsatisfied or lacking, because she's certainly had her fair share of sex: some good, some great, some...questionable, at best. What she has been missing though, is the deep emotional connection she shares with Elliot. The way he knows her—quite literally—inside and out. The way he wants her, but only on her terms. The way he loves her.
They've never had sex with the light on, so he takes a moment to study her face: how her cheeks flush and her eyes flutter when he moves inside of her. How her brow glistens with sweat and her lips part as she moans his name. His eyes trail down her body, scanning her scars and feeling an overwhelming swell of pride for all she's overcome.
"Mm," she moves with him, their hips in sync. "Harder."
He redistributes his weight, thrusting harder and harder; faster and faster. Unworried when her headboard knocks against the wall, relishing in the rare moment of privacy. He reaches for her clit and massages it with his thumb and middle finger.
"Let me—" she pleads, moving on top and forcing him to relinquish control as she rides him, setting their pace. His neck strains unnaturally and he'll feel that tomorrow, he thinks, but hell if he cares. Right now she's the only thing he sees and absolutely the only thing he feels. He covers her bare breasts with his palms, closing his eyes and letting her control him.
"Liv," he inhales sharply. "So fucking close."
"Wait for me." She instructs, changing positions again so she's on her side. "Right there." She moans when he hits her in a particularly sensitive spot. "Don't stop." She gasps.
"Christ." He thrusts harder, worried they may just break her bed frame. "I can't—fuck." He mutters. "You close?"
"Uh huh." She pants. "Just—" Olivia grabs his hand and moves it over her clit exactly the way she likes it. "Oh, God. Right there." Her eyes squeeze shut. "Right fucking there."
"Let go, Liv." He practically demands it, because he can't hold out any longer and lets out a guttural moan as he releases inside of her.
"Fuck." She cries out, her body jerking as she unravels with him.
They stay just like this: their bodies entwined and limbs tangled. They lay together, him still inside of her, until they come back to reality. He finishes first and holds her until her breath evens out—until neither one of them can possibly take anymore.
"Jesus, Elliot." She pants. "So good."
"God, I love you." Elliot's pecks at her lips. "So." He kisses her again. "Fucking." And again. "Much."