Chapter 4
"Wake up," Olivia grumbles, her hand coming down hard on Elliot's chest. "El," she calls, her voice laced with sleep. "Please answer your phone."
His snores only become louder so Olivia reaches across his chest and she grabs his phone off of the end table. With squinted eyes, partially due to the sudden brightness of his phone, but mostly due to the extra time it takes her eyes to focus these days, she finds that he has four missed calls from Elizabeth Stabler. Fuck. She remembers his little lie about helping a friend and no way did his child need to know that she was 'the friend'.
His outdated iPhone begins vibrating in her hand again she panics, sitting up on her knees in the middle of the bed, the comforter sliding off of her naked body. He'd mentioned his inability to sleep more than once but next to her, he's suddenly a log.
Surely, she couldn't just answer it, right? What would follow that? What type of conversations would be had after that? She sees Dickie Stabler's bare, petulant face in her mind's eye immediately. How about you? Ever sleep with your partner, Detective? God. No, her mind screams. They aren't ready.
This time her hand lands on his cheek and she taps once, then again a little harder. By the third time, he stirs and his hand grabs her wrist. "Is it a case? Because otherwise there's no goddamn reason for this, Olivia," he complains groggily.
She offers him his iPhone. "Get up. You just missed another one of Liz's calls."
"Oh, she must be worried." He takes the phone out of her hand and he clears his throat as the phone rings. Olivia doesn't want to hear his excuse for not coming home so she finds herself climbing out of bed and walking across the room completely nude. Out of her peripheral, she sees his head turn as he watches her disappear into the adjoined bathroom.
"I'm fine," he says into his phone. "I'm at Liv's. I fell asleep here."
She hears that much before she has the door closed. At Liv's. She thought they were being more subtle about this.
It is still relatively soon, only months after Kathy's death. Though for her it feels like a full year has drifted by since his arrival, it hasn't been. She just assumed it would be a while before their children knew. She wasn't even comfortable with Fin knowing.
Had she not been clear about where she stood? Elliot had to ask her to meet Noah, it wasn't something she offered. Why would he so casually say that he was with her without first consulting her?
She avoids listening to his conversation and she lingers in the bathroom longer than necessary. Ten minutes later with her hair clipped back, sporting a freshly washed face, brushed teeth, and a small robe loosely wrapped around her body, she finds Elliot still lying there in her bed, this time with an arm slung over his face.
"Aren't you going to get up?" Olivia asks walking over to the foot of the bed. It's 5 in the morning and the sun hasn't risen. He'd have just enough time to make it back to Queens and get ready for his day.
"Come back to bed."
"I think you should go home. For Eli and Lizzie?"
"Lizzie already got me for fifty bucks. They're going to go to breakfast in a few hours. They're fine."
"With you being here?" Olivia blurts.
He lifts his arm from his face and he looks at her, questioning her with the furrow of his eyebrows, but he says nothing.
"They're going to know," she whispers, like it isn't just the two of them in her apartment.
Elliot laughs. "Nobody is going to know."
"You sleep out often?" she asks seriously before her face breaks into a small smile. "With incredibly beautiful women?" she continues.
His face softens. "No," he stresses.
"Okay. They're going to know."
He sits up on his elbow, shifting his body to completely face her. She's trying to cover it up with a laugh, but he sees the uneasiness. "What's this about?"
"It's still new, El. Thought we'd be more careful."
"Okay. So we've never talked about what this is. Would you like to have that conversation?"
"Not after two weeks. No, I do not."
Elliot chuckles, amused by how nervous she looks after the fact. After he's had her underneath him several times, drawn many releases from her body, kissed her mouth over and over, he laughs because it's something he should've expected.
"Are you hungry?" he asks, smiling over at her. "I'm starving. We never had dinner. Let's go get pancakes."
Olivia's eyes narrow suspiciously. "Are you trying to distract me? With food?"
"Yes. And it's on me," he promises with a smirk.
"Of course it is," she chuckles. "I'm ordering the big breakfast, too."
"I can afford it." He brings his left foot down to the floor, his right leg still outstretched in front of him and he sits up in the bed, the sheets pooling around his hips. "Come here," he reaches for her, and without hesitation, she crosses the distance between them. He fits her right between his legs and his arms wrap around her waist. "Don't overthink this."
"I'm not," she lies.
Elliot pecks her lips before regaining her eye contact. "You're lying."
Is there any use in lying to someone who knows you so well? "I'm lying," she says with a smile. "I thought we would wait before we told people, El."
"I didn't tell anyone anything. We can keep lying to everybody for as long as you'd like to."
Her smile widens at his facetious tone. "Thank you."
"Whatever you're comfortable with."
"Are you comfortable?" she mumbles, her eyes focusing on her toes. "I mean we never really talk about Kathy anymore. Months ago I was so afraid for you, El."
"Yeah, well... months ago I was afraid, too." He pulls her closer, fitting her head against his chest. His lips kiss at her hairline and his hand rubs against the smooth surface of her robe, occasionally dropping over her ass before returning to her lower back. "I lost my wife and all that did was remind me that life is too fucking short. I don't want to spend any more time away from you." She tilts her head backward to look at him, to lift an eyebrow at him and when he returns her gaze, he laughs. "What? I can't be sweet and cop a feel?" He dips down to kiss her, and just as his lips ghost hers, her stomach growls. He laughs into her mouth before he says, "get up, Liv. Let's eat."
—
Olivia enjoys the feeling of his warm hand grazing her ass as he escorts her through the door of the diner. This is new for them, but his hands drift freely and boldly over her body, even in public. It's possessive and exciting the way he claims her curves, the way his hands are always on her. The slightest touch makes her want to get their food to go just so she can drag him back to her apartment.
"I genuinely never want to stop touching you," he grumbles in her ear as they approach a booth. It shouldn't be shocking how easily he's able to read her, but for some reason, it still is. Her face heats as she's sober and modest in public. Yesterday, she'd have had a quick response on the tip of her tongue, but Drunk Liv has always been bolder than Sober Liv. Knowing that he wants her is enough and maybe using a sick day today wouldn't be so bad? "Sit with me." He tugs her into the booth right next to him, his arm wrapped around her waist, and she giggles as she falls to his side. It takes her a second to realize that the light, girlish sound reverberating in her ears is the sound of her own laughter. She shakes herself out of it, out of the easy daze she finds herself in around him, and she sits up, batting his hand from her hip.
"We're in public."
"You made out with me at brunch," Elliot reminds her, smirking at the back of her head. "And the public hand job?"
"That wasn't me. That was Drunk Liv," she explains, picking up the laminated menu. She reaches into her pocket for her glasses, pulling the bold red frames onto her face. "I think I'm definitely getting pancakes."
He allows her to change the subject, their conversation from earlier in the morning fresh in his mind. He can't push her and isn't even in the space to do so. She's right about pacing things, so he unfolds his arm from around her waist and he agrees with her under his breath, "me, too."
He's seated deep into the booth, relaxing against the cushion, while she sits with her back rigid, arching away from him. She glances back at him occasionally, sharing a look of mutual desire before she has sense enough to look away for both their benefit.
He'd rather be back at her apartment, too.
His hand that she'd batted away gets antsy and it slips up her back and with splayed fingers, they dip into her hair. His fingertips rub tiny circles on her scalp and her head drops forward, a quiet groan leaving her mouth. "You like that?"
"Stop," she commands, but she's not committed to it and her hand reflexively reaches for his thigh.
"You don't mean that," he says with a chuckle, his fingers still moving in her soft strands. He drags his thumb and his forefinger down the column of the back of her neck before he begins massaging her right shoulder. "I've always wanted to do this."
"What?"
"Play in your hair. Rub your back."
"I know we acted like an old married couple—"
"We are an old married couple," he laughs.
"But we're not," she finishes.
"You ever felt this at ease with anyone else? Because personally I've never seen it."
Olivia turns to look at him and given how close they're seated, it feels like a gamble. Like too long of a look and they'll both wordlessly agree to get up and run back to her place. "You've never seen me with a man before. Not really."
"I've seen the guys, Olivia. All the little sons of bitc—"
Olivia's hand squeezes at his thigh, cutting him off, amusement settling on her features. "You'd have died if you saw me with Ed," she says and she smiles when his face drops. "Old married couple? We were definitely—"
"Benson," Elliot groans, his hand dropping from her body.
"I'm just saying. I don't feel old with you," she says, her eyes still on him. The grimace on his face is comical but she holds in her laugh. "In fact, I can't even remember the last time I was fucked up against a wall." He ignores her, his blue eyes focusing on the menu, squinting slightly to read it. Olivia pulls the glasses off of her head and she offers them to him.
"I don't need glasses," he tells her, still not looking at her. She persists, her hand moving a little closer, offering them to him. After a moment he takes them and when he slips them on his face, he nods, like maybe she was correct and he does need glasses.
"I do feel very at ease with you. Which is a bit shocking," she admits after a silent beat. "I mean I at least thought there would be some awkwardness here."
Elliot flips the menu in his hands, still not looking at her. She's given him a visual of her and Ed Tucker and it's taking everything in him to not think about it. She's noticed and now he has her full attention, her entire body angling toward him. Her hand runs up his thigh and down again and though his muscles flex under her touch, he keeps his voice remarkably even. "Why would you think that? Between us?" he asks.
"I know it's us, but still. Being the first person you've been with since Kathy? First person you've kissed? Touched? I can't imagine that's easy. Even with me."
"You're not."
"I'm not what?" she asks, pushing her hair behind her ear. He drags his eyes from the menu to her face, blue eyes peeking up at her over the red rim of her glasses. She chuckles to herself because he looks odd in her flashy frames, cute even. She leans toward him and she kisses his lips chastely. "I'm not what?" she repeats. He just stares back at her for a moment before she watches as his eyes narrow and it dawns on her. "I'm sorry?"
"I never said you were the first person I was with after Kath. You assumed."
"Elliot," she gasps, before she shakes her head, laughing bitterly. He feels the distance she puts between them instantly, recognizes the redness in her skin, feels the singing heat pouring from it.
"You're angry," he announces.
"Who?" she demands.
"Good morning, guys. Would you like to order?"
Olivia jumps in and she orders for the both of them, ordering two identical big breakfasts. He'll eat what he's served, she decides. When the waitress leaves, Olivia stands to her feet and she walks around to the other side of the booth so that she's sitting across from him. He still has the menu in his hands and though she's just ordered, he keeps his eyes trained there.
It takes less than a minute for him to break. "What? You want to do this here? Talk about every woman I've looked at since my wife?"
"Don't be funny with me, Elliot."
"Why does it feel like we're in an interrogation room?"
"Talk."
"Well, there was my wife," he says with a chuckle and she glares at him. "Then there was a woman named Helene. Sloot set me up with her when we were tracking stolen vaccines."
"For a case?"
"Yes. I was supposed to be under. Couldn't even go on the date," he muses, both of his eyebrows shooting up at the memory. Then he clears his throat and both of his hands disappear under the table. "Then there was Angela Wheatley."
Her face softens at the mention of the woman's name. "I'm not talking about the women you've had to interact with for work," she states. When he doesn't go on, when he looks everywhere but at her, when it becomes painfully obvious, both of her hands drop to the table top. "Elliot."
"We've spoken about her before, Liv," he says softly.
"Not in this context!" she exclaims. "She's the person—"
"I know who she is," Elliot snarls. He sits up in his seat, his back erect as they stare each other down. "I know what she's done."
The anger she feels is borderline unbridled. They're not in a relationship and they haven't even agreed upon where the relationship was going but she can't stop the words from leaving her mouth. "Did you fuck her?"
"No."
"I feel sick," she whispers, closing her eyes. "I'm having so many thoughts," she confesses, seeing nothing but the blackness behind her eyelids. When her eyes flash open, they're glassy and threatening. "What happened?"
"A kiss… some shared… emotions."
"Shared emotions," she repeats. Her eyes gape over him as her expression shifts to incredulity.
"It was right after Kathy and I needed someone," he says, attempting to explain. She watches as he looks for the words, tries to come up with a plausible explanation for her. "I was confused."
"Confused is far too kind," she whispers angrily. "And you look like an idiot in my glasses," she lies, holding her hand out to him. "Give them back."
He laughs nervously and he hands over her glasses. "You're upset."
"I'm repulsed."
Elliot gapes at her. "I'm repulsed."
"You should be."
"I'm talking about Tucker," he says. "Of all the men? Old married couple?!"
Olivia is too smart to take the Tucker bait, so she sidesteps him. "I always thought there was a missing piece of the story," Olivia says, her eyes flitting between his. "Between you and Wheatley and the things he said. The way Angela...I never wanted to push you so I didn't."
"It's not exactly something I brag about, Liv."
"It's the most reckless thing I've ever heard."
"She was sick."
"Are you defending her?"
"I'm not defending her. I'm not even defending myself. I wish it didn't happen," Elliot mutters. "I didn't want to lie to you. You made a statement and I corrected you." His eyes search hers, but she's already cleaned the slate of her face. She stares back at him coldly. "Fine, you don't have to speak. Be childish about it," he offers.
She laughs, her eyebrows arched, shaking her head. She's smiling, but it's just as menacing as before.
Across from her, he shivers.
—
"I think we should talk," Elliot offers softly. Olivia grabs her phone and her purse and she goes to open the car door, but he grasps her thigh in his hand. "Liv."
She settles back into the seat, her head leaning against the headrest. "We have nothing to talk about."
"Fine. Tonight then. Can I see you later?"
"No," Olivia answers. "I think that perhaps we need space. Maybe we've rushed into this and it's still so soon. There's still so much we don't know."
His eyebrows shoot up and he leans toward her, his hand reaching out and resting over her wrist. "Is that what you believe, Liv?"
"I don't know if you're making the right decisions." Olivia flips her hand over, releasing it from his grip. "I think you need time."
"If that is how you feel."
Olivia's eyes widen in response. She didn't think it'd be this easy. In fact, she's a little insulted. "Screw you, Elliot," she mutters and this time when she goes for the handle, he lets her go.
Olivia stews in her anger long after she's left Elliot. At her desk, with every stroke of her pen, when she's sitting in traffic with Fin on her way to meet a vic, her anger flares. She tries to suppress it, but Fin knows something is up the moment they pull out of her parking spot. He asks a few times, his giant green eyes offering her his friendship and his understanding, but she's too embarrassed to confide in him. "Whatever he did, Cap, I'm sure the motherfucker is sorry," is Fin's eventual conclusion after a mostly silent ride. "I'll call him if you need me to."
She doesn't allow Fin to call and the second they're stepping into the hospital, her mind is wiped clean of any personal issues. The good thing about this part of her work is that she has to give her all. There's no time to worry about Elliot, if he's called, if he's texted. And it's a good thing, too. Because he doesn't do either.
—
Mornings are hectic. Noah complains about school, about having to brush his teeth, about the clothes he's wearing and she finds herself yelling from her bathroom into his bedroom before he finally decides to be cooperative. He's still eating his breakfast as she ushers him into the arms of Lucy and when she finally has him out of the door and on his way to school, she's grateful for the alone time.
She has already showered, but her hair is still wet, still wrapped in a towel piled on top of her head. It's the first time she has a moment to herself and as she stands in front of the mirror in her bathroom, visions of him waiting for her in her bed flashes in her mind.
The harder she tries not to think about him, about what he's doing in another borough, if he's made it to the Italian deli for coffee, or if he's running late like her, the more she envisions him. She sees his face clearly in her mind and she chalks it up to all of the proximity of last night, over the last two weeks. She can imagine every freckle, every shade of blue in his eyes, the slope of his nose, the furrow of his thick eyebrows. It was only hours ago that he'd had his face buried between in her breasts, his nose running alongside hers, his mouth clamped around her bottom lip. She'd looked directly in his eyes as he slid inside of her early in the morning before they both collapsed in a pile of sticky, sweaty limbs.
He is the only thing on her mind as she blow-dries her hair, how he touches her, how he sends her over the edge every single time. And she broke up with him.
"What have I done?" Olivia asks herself aloud, flipping her freshly curled hair out of her face. Her phone is gripped in her hand and she is looking up his contact to call him when her phone goes off, followed by a knock at the front door.
Open up, the text message reads.
When she pulls the door open, she stands there for a beat, shocked to actually have him standing before her. Fifty percent of her still wants to slap his face. The other half wants to jump him. "You're here." He has a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand, along with a tray of coffee.
"Just came to say good morning, Captain." His dimples show when he grins and she has to clasp her hands together to keep from touching him.
"Was your phone broken?" He invites himself in, walks right past her, their shoulders brushing as he makes his way inside. "You're an asshole," she whispers softly, fighting the smile on her face. She bites down on her bottom lip, but he sees it, sees the grin.
"For what? I'm sure there's a list."
"For not calling me all day yesterday."
"You need space and time," he reminds her, smiling. "Do you want to hear what happened?"
"Between you and Angela Wheatley? No, I do not." As she looks at him, she battles with her anger and how much she lusts for him. "And I don't want to feel conflicted. What if I have to report you to Bell? No, don't tell me a thing. I don't care."
"You don't care?"
Olivia walks up to him and she bends over to smell the bouquet he's still holding before she opens the notecard attached to the flowers. In his familiar scribble are two simple words. She has to smile at his brevity. "My bad?" she questions.
"I figured the flowers and coffee would be enough."
"It's not."
"Look, I'm sorry I didn't call yesterday."
Olivia nods her head. "These are very pretty," she says before she turns on her heel and she heads back to her bathroom. He abandons the flowers and the coffee and he is right behind her when she goes back to filling her eyebrows in with a brown retractable pencil. She ignores his presence as she bends forward, getting closer to the mirror to apply her mascara. Behind her, his eyes dip down to the small robe she's wearing. It rises higher, the further she bends over and she catches him licking his lips in the mirror. "Don't even think about it," she whispers, with her mouth twisted into a smirk. He nods his head in agreement and he crosses his arms over his chest, still leaning against the door jamb.
"I missed you."
"And you didn't you call," she repeats. She doesn't mean to harp, but the ten-year span they went without speaking is still very fresh in her mind.
"At first I was trying to give you space to calm down," he answers with a chuckle. "I know when to give you space so that's what I was doing. Then work got busy. It wasn't intentional."
"Felt like it."
"Let me make it up to you, Liv," he says, finally stepping fully into the bathroom with her. He slides behind her, positioning his hands on the sink on either side of her. "You wearing anything under that robe?"
"No," she whispers, her attention now focused on her pouty lips. She swipes lipgloss over them, rubbing them together before puckering them. Once she's satisfied, she looks at him in the mirror again. "I was serious about that break."
He snorts. "You weren't." His eyes are still on her ass, on the way that the robe sinks slightly between the crevices of her backside. "I love your ass. I've told you that, right?"
Her eyes are still on him and she sees it the moment he bites down on his bottom lip. He wants her and she feels it. The heat between them is palpable, maybe even slightly heightened with her anger toward him. She clears her throat and his eyes shoot up to hers, connecting in the mirror. She arches her eyebrow at him. "I wasn't serious? How do you figure?"
He steps closer, the front of his pants sliding across the material of her robe, across her ass. He bends forward, burying his nose in her hair, dragging it down along her neck. "You were looking for my call all day. You don't want me going anywhere."
"Mm-hmm." Olivia nods her head, his closeness rendering her almost speechless.
"I don't want you going anywhere either, baby," he mumbles. He reaches into his back pocket and he reaches around her body, handing her a small note card, similar to the note attached to the sunflowers. She flips it open and she reads it and a soft smile reaches her lips.
"Don't leave me because I'm stupid," she reads aloud, laughing. He reaches into his pocket again and he offers her another notecard. "I love you," Olivia reads.
Behind her, he sighs happily. "I love you, too."
Her laughter ends abruptly when he drops down to one knee. He wraps his hands around her thick thighs, widening her stance for him. "Pull the robe up, Liv," he instructs softly. She grips at the hem of the robe and he gasps at the reveal like she hadn't just told him, like he was still shocked at the sight of her naked body. His hands glide higher, the light touch sending shivers through her, evoking a hiss from her. He palms her, spreads her, takes in the sight of her already wet for him.
He bends forward, running his nose against her folds, wetting the tip of it with the arousal that's already seeping out of her. He does the same exact thing with his tongue and above him, still bent over her sink, she stifles a moan. He replaces his hands with hers, positioning them on her own ass, making sure the tips of her fingers grasp at her labia, opening her for him. Now with her clitoris exposed, he makes work of sucking it into his mouth.
"Elliot!" She moans, her forehead pressing against the cool mirror. The edge of the counter bites into her upper thighs as she puts all her weight on it. The feeling of him slurping and sucking at her leaves her moaning against the mirror, fogging it up and she wonders why she was ever angry with him. Is anything worth never feeling this again? Is there anything worth never getting him to kneel down for her? He's explorative, maybe too explorative when his tongue flicks between her anus and her vagina, but she finds herself expelling an uncontrollable groan.
When she comes for him, she grasps at the back of his head, pulling him harder against her and his mouth keeps working, keeps giving to her until she pushes him away. When he stands to his feet, her smirks at what he's done to her, at the sweat on her forehead, at the complete bliss written across her face. "Does that make up for my idiocy?"
Olivia chuckles, planting her hands on the sink, steadying herself, but not answering him.
"Liv?" he begins, his mouth is still glistening with her arousal. "Are we still together?"
"That's not fair," she states softly, her voice finally returning. She reaches for an unused towel and she passes it to him. "You're playing dirty."
"Turn around, I don't like talking at the back of your head."
Reluctantly, Olivia faces him and she puts effort into wiping the thirst for him off of her face. She wants more but they still have things to sort out between them. "What are we doing here?"
"We don't have to define it," Elliot responds, his face and his eyes serious. "I'd just like to know that you're still mine and I'm still yours. We can take it slow. Keep it between us. Nobody has to know but us. And Fin."
Olivia smiles. "I can agree to that."
"Ok."
She steps forward and she gives him a chaste kiss, a flirtatious smile on her lips. "If there's anything else you need to tell me, tell me now."
"There is one more thing."
Olivia sighs. "Let's hear it."
"You didn't think I'd hate it, Liv? When you were with Tucker, somewhere in the back of your head you weren't thinking about how much it'd kill me?"
Oh, God. "Maybe."
"So you knew."
"Of course I knew, but no it wasn't intentional. The relationship was genuine."
"You mean to tell me there was nothing in your head that made you think—"
"I said I knew, but no I do not apologize for falling in love if that's where you think this is going."
"In love?" he chuckles. He mouths wow as he shakes his head and she rolls her eyes. "You got off on it," he accuses softly and her eyes widen.
"You know what? I need to get to work!" She goes to step out of the circle of his arms, but his grip on the sink is firm. She lifts an eyebrow at him. "Move."
"Admit it first."
"There's nothing to admit."
"When he touched you, did you think of me?"
Olivia laughs at his audacity. He's always been this way. He says what he's thinking and he's no holds barred and for once, she wishes he would just leave it alone. "If you don't want to lose your balls, you'll move. Also, if you keep pushing, you're going to hear exactly what you want to hear and I don't think you're ready for it."
"I bet he didn't know what to do with you," Elliot shoots back, smirking and it's two-thirds narcissistic and a third charming.
"I'm so close to smacking that smug look right off your face," Olivia warns honestly.
"I just want an answer."
"When he first asked me out I thought he was crazy. I put it off the first time. Then he caught me off guard and it was nice and before I knew it, he's my boyfriend. I had second thoughts, yes but then I thought why fucking not? It was crazy enough that it could've been my love story. Enemies to lovers. It'd have been fitting."
"He arrested you."
"I'm aware."
"Answer me, Liv."
"I don't even remember the question. Did I fall in love to spite you? No. Did he know what to do with a woman like me? Yeah. He did." Anger flashes in his eyes and it's her cue to keep going. "Passionate. Lot's of romantic dinners, thoughtful dates. There was a lot of lovemaking. Once late at night in my office. I told you he took me to Paris?"
"Now I break up with you."
"Grow up."
"You grow up," he calls after her, following her into her bedroom. He hovers, silently stalking her with his eyes as she walks from her dresser to her closet, building an outfit for her to wear. "You're a pain in my ass."
"I'm a pain in your ass?"
"Yeah and I'm pissed off that I have to go work right now and that I'm going to miss you like hell all day."
"You're going to miss me? After that?" She is impressed.
"I'm happy he treated you well."
"He was great."
"But he wasn't me."
Olivia grins. "No. He wasn't." They stare at each other from either side of her bedroom and she has that feeling she had in the diner. Like looking at him is borderline dangerous and always has the capacity to morph into something more. More sensual. Carnal. Rawer.
He lifts an eyebrow at her and she sighs and shrugs innocently. "You have anything important going on today? Court?"
She knows precisely why he's asking, but gives no implication that she does. "No," she answers.
"Okay. Cool." Olivia watches him as he makes a show of pulling his phone out. He makes an outgoing call, putting his phone on speaker and dropping it on the bed right in front of him.
"Hey, man! I've been meaning to call you."
Olivia's eyes widen and her mouth falls open.
"Fin, I need you to do me a favor."
"Does this have to do with Liv? Look, she was pretty upset."
Elliot grins as her face falls in her hands, embarrassed that yes, she spent all day upset with him and someone else took notice. "She's sick."
"She's sick?"
"Yup. Sick. She won't be in today."
"No!" she mouths.
"Is she? Is she sick?"
"Late," she whispers. "I'll go in late."
He ignores her mouthing and he speaks over the phone. "All you need to know is that she won't be in today. Thanks, Fin."
"Email!" She mouths again, still not wanting Fin to hear her. She knows he must know exactly what is going on. He's a damned cop.
"She'll be working from home and available by email."
She picks her hand up and fashions her hand into a phone. "Call!"
"And call if anything major happens."
"Ok, no problem…" Fin says, but there's pause in his voice. "Good morning, Captain. See you tomorrow." Fuck. Fin ends the call before she is able to respond and she's thankful for it.
"I'm never going to hear the end of that," she grumbles, but she's grinning. She's excited about this. Of all the times they've joked about calling in and playing hooky, she had no idea it would be today.
Wordlessly, he stalks around the bed and when he's standing behind her again, snaking his hands around her body, untying the robe she's still wearing, she moans. She'd been honest about Ed Tucker. It'd been exactly what she needed at the time, but it is nothing compared to what she feels for Elliot. It's nothing compared to the way her body responds to his touch.
Elliot glides the robe off of her shoulders and he lets it fall between them. He taps her ass, hard enough that it gets her going, gets her climbing onto the bed. She is lying on her belly, looking over her shoulder at him as he starts at his belt.
"We're staying in today." He pulls his shirt over his head and his pants drop down to his feet.
She chuckles. "I think I got that, detective." She lifts her ass for him, still holding his gaze, the look on her face asking him what are you waiting for, but her mouth saying nothing.
He climbs on top of her, straddling the back of her thighs, sliding into her swiftly and completely. As he withdraws, she pokes her ass up higher and he groans as he slams back inside of her.
"Yes," she hisses.
"Or do you want me to slow down?" His hips become unhurried then and he slides in and out of her lazily. He grips her hips and he relaxes on his knees as he moves scrupulously slow. "You want romantic? I have romantic."
"Just fuck me, El." He slows his hips even more and she glares at him. "I was right earlier," she grumbles, resting her chin on her hand. "You're still an asshole," Olivia whispers roughly, her eyes focused right on his.
His eyebrows furrow at her like he can't believe she'd have the nerve to insult him right in the middle of sex. "Get up," he barks playfully and the ripple of excitement in her is instant. He makes sure to assist her, tugging on her hips as she rises to her knees. She arches her back for him, burying the side of her face into the comforter. It is a new secret thrill, being dominated by him and she waits patiently for him to plunge back inside of her. Both of his hands run up her back and then down again, his fingertips brushing the indentation straight down the middle of her back. He slips the tip of his erection over her clit and her body jerks almost violently in response. She squeezes her eyes shut and she holds her breath and then he's back and he's merciless.
She moans when he presses down gently, deepening the arch in her back, allowing him to fit further inside of her. "Oh my God," Olivia purrs. They'd just started again and she feels another orgasm already spiraling through her. She looks over her shoulder when she feels him withdraw completely. She curses him for leaving and then she curses him again when she feels the tip of him brushing against her anus. "Elliot," she moans. It was an attempt to warn him, tell him that that is a no go, but her body betrays her. She thinks deep down in her heart that she'd be willing to try just about anything with him because the trust between them is so concrete.
He doesn't enter her there, instead, he swipes her own moisture over her, before he slips back into her vagina. She begins breathing again, calming down, excited that on one random morning playing hooky from work she isn't trying anal with him. Just as the relief settles, she feels the tip of his thumb slide into her ass. It's not far, but it's an intrusion and it brings a new fullness, a heightened level of stimulation. The combination of it all sends her into overdrive.
She is filled with wonder and confusion at how this has never been done to her. In all of her years, she's never experienced this. She's heard of the nerve endings back there and maybe she's tried and failed at anal before, but it hadn't been anything like this. It's just enough and perfect and she doesn't even remember why they were arguing in the first place. His hips are pounding against her ass every time he fills her, his thumb inching just a little further, leaving her shuddering again. It renders her speechless and at the precipice of her greatest orgasms, she's always been loud and a little mouthy, but her jaw is hanging and she feels her drool trickling onto the comforter as it all just happens to her. His balls slap against her clit and his thumb has halfway disappeared inside of her, and he uses it and the clutch of the rest of his hand around her ass to guide her up and down on his dick.
He has her right where he wants her and maybe he was right. No one else has ever known what to do with a woman like her.
"Coming," she hums in a whisper and he grabs her wrists, pulling them above her head, stretching them out so she is flat on her belly again. He grinds slowly and it's out of body and beyond all reason and she hears the sound of bass drums and his name as her body shakes and trembles. Her walls contract on him but it's slow, her grip squeezing tighter, the waves deeper and further apart. She purrs into the sheets beneath her and he grins down at her, pushing her hair away from her sticky face. He's on his elbow, completely hovering over her, watching her orgasm play out on her face. Her eyes are squeezed shut, both of her eyebrows lifted, almost meeting in the center and she's almost singing his name.
"You're beautiful," he whispers coolly when her eyes open. "I love you." She nods and she cranes her neck to kiss his mouth. It's a struggle to keep their lips grasped once she begins taking advantage of the little space between her belly and the mattress. She throws her hips upward, allowing him to sink into her, moving for him, spurring him on. "God damn it, Olivia."
"Show me," she mutters breathlessly. "That you know what to do with a woman like me."
He turns her over, flipping her onto her back before he's right back inside of her. Her hands are gripping the pillows above her head and he kisses her lips for a moment before he's braced up on his elbows. His face is strained, the muscles in his neck ripple, the hallow above his clavicle deepens, beads of sweat trickle down his nose and she begins tightening around him again as his pace slowly builds. Olivia extends her neck forward until his mouth latches onto hers, their tongues sliding along each other. Her eyes flash open when he breaks the kiss and she gets a front-row seat as utter pleasure washes over his face. Elliot growls and it must be reminiscent of some unnamed wild animal as he explodes inside of her. He collapses and they're both wet and sweaty and spent. He breathes into her shoulder for a second before he picks up his head. He waits for her eye contact and when she smiles up at him lazily, he opens his mouth and he says, "I always knew I'd know exactly what to do with you, Liv."
And to me, she wants to add.
Her eyes are heavy and she doesn't have to see herself to know that her lipgloss and mascara are smeared. She is in ruins and it's all because of him. He goes to climb up again to his elbows and then to his hands and before he can complete his pushup off of her, she shakes her head. "Hey, El?" she whispers, slipping her fingers into the roots of her hair. Her grin is slow and deliberate. "You're not dismissed."