A/N: this was so hard to write, but here we go...

Chapter 6

Olivia loves Elliot.

He knows it and now Edgar does too. She imagines Chief Garland will soon know and she considers calling Fin. He'd laugh. He'd have a funny spin on this. But she doesn't make that call. Her mind is made up on what is about to happen and it involves no one else. Just Elliot.

When she steps into his apartment, using the key this time, she finds that all of the lights are on but he's not there. He's either stepped out to take out the garbage or he's run to the store, but she knows he's coming back shortly. Good, she thinks. She needs the time anyway.

The dress she's wearing is modest and it has delicate buttons all the way down the front. She walks to his bedroom, turns on the lamp at his bedside and she begins undoing each button one by one. He's already denied her twice. He won't even get the chance this time.

She hears him when he walks into the apartment, his heavy footsteps, the drop of his keys. She knows he'll know she's here. He'll smell her, notice the chair she's pushed in, see her purse on the table. It's only a matter of time before he bursts into his bedroom with her. When she hears his footsteps, she spins just in time to let the dress fall off her shoulders and catch on her fingertips as he appears at the door. The dress pools around her legs and slides across the floor as she takes tentative steps towards him.

She's wearing a sheer bodysuit that's equally as supportive as it is sexy. It's cut high on her hips and cinches at the waist, accentuating her natural hourglass shape. Her hair is still framing her face and her eyelashes are dark and fluttering with every movement of her eyes. Her neckline is adorned in simple, delicate necklaces and her breasts are sitting. Right there, plump and round under her chin. She crosses one high-heeled sandal in front of the other until she's standing right there in front of him.

Elliot is a gentleman, but he isn't infallible. His eyes drift over her, shocked to have her nearly naked in his bedroom. He'd basically seen her off a few hours ago for her date with Mr. Can't Get Her Off, and he'd been actively trying not to text her ever since.

"What are you… what are you doing here?" he asks and she sees it when he curses to himself. Fuck. He's shaken, startled even, but he knows exactly why she's here.

Olivia releases the dress from her fingers and the second it touches the floor, her hands are on him. "Waiting for you."

—

Olivia stands before him, her eyes searching into his as she shakes her head, allowing her hair to fall behind her shoulders. Both of her hands rest at his sides and her head falls back even further as she steps even closer. With her chin jutted forward and her breasts on his chest and their mouths just an inch apart, just when he thinks she's going to kiss him on the lips, she leans forward and she delivers open-mouthed kisses to his throat, stopping to suck when her tongue reaches the thud of his pulse.

He groans and her hand comes up behind his neck and she holds him steady, nipping at him, licking swirls before sucking skin back into her mouth. She remembers from the night before that he likes her like this, aggressive and a little hostile. She'd like to leave a mark because he's left one on her. Not physically, but she feels it. He's left the biggest mark on her life, the biggest impression, the deepest hole. It's only fair. And maybe the thought of how much he means to her and how they could've lost this forever excites her too much because then she's biting down hard on skin and muscle. Damn right she's leaving a mark.

Elliot's hands had remained at his sides but when her tongue begins soothing the skin over his throat once more, and her hands stroke down his chest stopping at his belt, and she presses forward until his back hits the wall, he has no choice but to touch. He starts at her waist, then her hips and when the flat of her tongue drags up to his ear, when she nips at his lobe, he shudders. "Liv."

This isn't the time to chat, so she doesn't acknowledge his plea. She kisses her way to the center of his collar bone and down into the dip where his shirt is unbuttoned. Quick hands begin unlatching his leather belt but his hands wrap around her wrists. No, she thinks. This is not happening again.

"Liv, are you sure?"

"You know, El, I am about sick of you pretending to be this noble—"

"I'm not pretending," he insists.

"You are," she presses. "You've always wanted me, El. You've admitted to that."

"I do."

Olivia steps back, her eyes closing. "I'm here offering myself to you. Decide what you want so I can move on one way or another—" Her eyes snap open when he growls— actually growls like an animal at her.

His large hands wrap around her biceps and he pulls her flush against him again. "I want you," he declares softly. "But shit changes after this, Liv. I mean it." She nods. "We don't go back to you ignoring me on your whim. We do this and everything changes."

"It changes," she repeats.

"You can be scared but goddamn it, no more running." He waits for her acknowledgment, waits for her to nod her head again and the second that she does, their fate is sealed.

—

His mouth is on hers as his hands slide underneath the cup of her full, rounded ass, his palms running over skin and soft, barely-there fabric. She'd asked for this, but his mouth is hungrily devouring hers, lips smacking and tongues dueling, and for a split second, she thinks that she won't be able to keep up. Despite all of her teasing, perhaps just the sheer size of him gives him one up on her. His fingers reach ardently over her center and it heightens the hysteria she feels from just kissing him. Snatching her mouth from his and with her eyes insistent on his, Olivia reaches behind her and she grabs his wrists, fitting her palms against his, threading their fingers together. They're breathing heavily, gazing at each other as she pulls him toward the bed, and just as they approach, she spins them so he's the one sitting.

She goes for the elastic on her wrist and she is gathering her hair in a ponytail as she sinks down between his legs, landing on her knees. It's his thick beard, red lips, wild, sapphire eyes, and furrowed eyebrows that she focuses on as she snaps her hair into place. She loves this rugged look on him. Less polished than the detective she once knew. This guy has lived more, aged. Grown. This guy takes and he possesses, and she knows it, she just needs to give him a little push.

"Your pants," she whispers. He quickly unbuttons his pants and she assists him, pulling them down his manly legs and when he's finally settled back on the bed, his dick bobs right in front of her face. "Hi," she whispers, her eyes on his erection.

He chuckles quietly. She is so fucking sexy without even trying.

Her right hand wraps around his shaft and she strokes him once before she sits up a little taller on her knees. She bends forward and he watches as spit drops from her mouth and lands right on the tip of his penis. It is a quiet, intimate moment between them, both watching her saliva as it slides down his throbbing erection. As it puddles around the base of him and she uses both hands to slide up his dick while simultaneously twisting.

Her hands are damp, but not wet enough so she spits again, spreading it all over him, clenching her warm hands tightly around him. She works them faster and faster, an exhilaration she's never known flitting through her every time his hips jerk forward. He is stiff, unyielding, and smooth in her hands. Her fingers mold to the ridges and protruding veins and her mouth salivates in anticipation. Her tongue works over her lips as he gnaws at his and she pauses to gain his eye contact. His eyes are closed and he's panting like he's trying to control himself, like one wrong move— or right move— will make him snap. His big fists are gripping at sheets and his left knee keeps bouncing. It's like he can't control it and when he notices, he forces his body to still. He breathes, calms himself, and when he finally lifts his eyes to hers, she begins moving again, this time slowly.

She bends forward to wrap her lips around the head of his penis, whirling her tongue around the salty-sweet combination of his hot skin and pre-ejaculation. She only goes half of the way down, before she's retreating, spending extra time on the vein protruding on the underside of his erection. She swirls her tongue around the tip of his dick again, before she sucks him right back into her mouth. Her movements are agonizingly slow because she's waited for this, has been denied this, so she may as well take her time with him. She even pauses for a moment to lick her tongue the entire way down his shaft and when she gets to his balls, she cups them in one hand. She slurps one into her mouth while fondling the other and it's the right move.

He groans deeply and her ponytail is swiftly wrapped around his right fist and he holds her there. She smiles before she switches sides, this time gliding her left hand up and down on his shaft again. His body ticks and jerks and she knows she could have him as putty right there in her hands if she continues, so she stops. "Liv," he groans. She lazily licks back up his erection and he sighs so softly before he uses the moment to work on catching his breath again. She looks up at him as she takes him into her mouth once more and from her angle, his blue eyes look dark, pained almost. Like he won't be able to take much more of this.

His groans grow deeper when he touches the back of her throat and what she is doing to him, how he's reacting, makes her throb for him. She squeezes her knees together, clenches her inner muscles, and with the small, constant swivel of her hips, she finds relief. The hair on his belly tickles her forehead and she works hard to get her nose to touch his abdomen, too. Her motions quicken into a frenzy and she allows him to go farther every time, humming softly, encouraging him. Goading him.

He's never seen something more enticing than Olivia on her knees fully worshipping him. It's happening right before his eyes, and her mouth is wet, the insides of her cheeks slick, her hands so soft and now she's moaning with him, like she's going to come with him. Her hands and the slurp of her mouth leave him ascending higher and higher. His grip tightens on her ponytail and she nods again, giving him silent permission. "Liv, fuck," he breathes and if he's not mistaken, by the whimpering sounds she's making, she's finding release, too. "Shit." She's getting off while getting him off and it's the sexiest fucking thing he's ever experienced. He ejaculates right down her throat, his hips jerking with each stream of release. "Shit," he repeats.

When she stands to her feet, her legs are shaky. He wants to ask, did you come, too? But his brain isn't working. His eyes follow her movement, still breathing heavily, still jerking from her touch. She smiles at him, pulling her destroyed ponytail all the way down. "I think we're about even now, huh?"

—

Elliot only knows two things. He is afraid to hurt her and he needs to be inside of her.

After he came, they'd fallen into bed together. She'd kissed him right on his mouth and he'd let her slide her tongue against his, traces of his semen still there. They'd kissed and then they took a break to catch their breaths and before he knew it, she'd dozed off right there on his chest.

He has to have her.

He doesn't want his excitement to overtake him, so he settles for his fingers. She is moaning into his mouth before she's even alert enough to remember where she is. "Get up," he whispers softly. Her hips are lifting for him out of pure instinct as his fingers drive into her slowly. He pumps them in and out, building up to her release, speeding up his efforts before stopping completely. A little inspiration from her, he thinks as he smiles against her lips. She whimpers softly when his thumb touches her clitoris. She grasps at his beard, leaning up to thrust her tongue into his mouth as she grips around his knuckles. She cries into his mouth and she can't believe he's given her a third orgasm and has never even fucked her.

"Oh God," she whispers when he withdraws his fingers and breaks their kiss. Her body is still on edge, still humming in pleasure when her eyes are blinking open. She finds him shirtless, on his knees above her. "You are so, so…" the sentence dies on her lips. Good won't cut it and she can barely think, let alone explain how he makes her feel. She sits up on her elbows, taking in the manliness of him, the cockiness he's suddenly exuding.

"So what?" he smirks.

"Just… so," she whispers, chuckling. He reaches for the thin black straps over her shoulders and she allows him to slide them down slowly over her arms until he's pulling the cups of the bra down. He pauses for a moment to take in the sight of her breasts, biting down on his bottom lip before dragging his eyes back up to hers. He keeps her gaze steady as he pulls the bodysuit completely off of her body. He crawls his way between the opening of her legs. He stops to kiss her knee, then her inner thighs and when his mouth is level with her vagina, he hovers for a moment, looking down at how wet he already has her. His breath on her moist skin and the anticipation are enough for her to whimper again. The way the muscles in his back ripple as his head descends, sends instant chills through her, puckering her nipples even harder. He dips his head down and he only stops for a taste before he continues kissing his way up her body. His nose and his lips ghost the hot skin of her belly before he gets to her breasts, fondling one while sucking the other into his mouth.

She wishes she could be more of a participant but she feels like she's melting under his touch. Her hands grip the sheets and her legs widen in preparation. "Stop teasing me," she mumbles huskily through a moan.

He chuckles devilishly and he goes to switch breasts, but she grabs his face between her hands and she pulls him up to her, kissing his lips, allowing her strong legs to encircle his waist. He collapses on top of her, his dick sliding along her but not entering her. "Please."

He reaches between them and he guides himself inside of her, gradually, not stopping until there's no other choice, until he has no other place to go.

She feels everything slow down then. It's just gasping and panting, kisses that don't last, and the brutal thrust of his hips between her thighs. She holds his face, his beard tickling the palms of her hands because she doesn't want him to look away. She wants him to see that every single time he enters her, it just pushes her closer and closer to falling.

Her thigh slips from his hands, so he grasps harder than he usually would. His nails are biting into her skin and he wants to slow down to savor this, savor how tight she is, how responsive she is, but he can't. She's mewling in his ear, encouraging him, asking for more, telling him harder and he listens. His headboard is banging against the wall and by the time he's coming again, she is shuddering around him, too. He loses his senses as he explodes. It all comes from somewhere deep within. The release, the growl, the cry that comes from a fantasy finally fulfilled.

He presses into her one last time and she grunts into his shoulder. It's over far too quickly, but they're both sated and unable to move. They're both so sensitive and so exhausted, and moments later, they're both sleeping.

—

Elliot wakes to Olivia telling an outright lie on the phone to Lucy. She's sitting at the foot of the bed, the sheet fitted around her body, with her phone pressed to her ear. "Yeah, something came up at work… thanks, Luce."

"She knows you're lying," he says once she's ended the call and tosses her phone to the middle of the bed.

"No, she doesn't. I don't lie."

"I'm work?"

Olivia chuckles. "Yeah. Real work," she mumbles, climbing back on the bed with him. "I have to go."

"You gonna tell me what happened first?"

Edgar is the last thing on her mind, but if he wants to talk about him, fine.

"Is that a joke?" She rests her head on his chest, her arm slipping around his torso. "Anything?" she mocks and his voice echoes in her head. Like I said, anything. He'll do anything for her and she shivers at the thought.

"He keeps calling me uncle Elliot and we're focusing on what I said?"

"We got into a fight thanks to you. Why would you show up tonight? I had to endure the longest dinner of my life that in all reality was no more than forty-five minutes before I took a cab here."

"A cab? What the fuck happened?"

She grins despite herself. "I told him I love you."

"You told him?"

"Yes. And then it went into how? How do I love you? If I was in love with you," she explains.

"And what happened."

Olivia buries her face into his chest. "I said it was complicated and then Garland rescued me. He doesn't want me seeing you again."

"Well, he obviously doesn't know you," he cracks.

"Elliot, I didn't come here because he asked me to stay away. I came here because I wanted to be with you."

"Did you lie to him?"

"I didn't tell him I wouldn't be seeing you. We never finished the conversation."

"I think it's important that you do."

"Jesus, Elliot. I told you I just had an argument. I didn't come here to have another."

He scrubs his hands over his face. "All this shits gonna bite you in the ass, Liv."

She peers up at him through her eyelashes before she peels the sheet off of her body and she climbs on top of him. "Let it," she whispers against his lips. Her hand is wrapped around him and she positions him between her legs, running the head of his dick against her, feeling it hardening with each passing second. His hands grip her hips and he holds her steady, bucking his hips upward. When he's back inside of her, she sighs happily into his neck. He thrusts upward as she kisses his throat and sucks on his ear. "Elliot," she moans seductively. "I just need time," she whispers.

He nods against her and she probably could've said anything and he'd have agreed to it. She sits up, pulling her chest off of his and she seizes control, rocking her hips over him, swiveling so deep that he sees it gyrate up the length of her body. She rolls from her hips, up her spine, across her shoulders before she rolls back down.

"Jesus Christ," he says and he lifts his hands from her hips, holding them up in the air on either side of them as he watches her grind above him. "Olivia," he moans, and she doesn't stop. He hikes himeself up on his elbows and he watches as she uses him to bring herself over the edge again. Her hands climb up his chest and she braces herself on his shoulders as her orgasm comes close. She bounces, taking him deep, gasping every time she's filled, whimpering every time she lifts off of him. He's amazed, absolutely bewildered with the woman above him and when she throws her head back and she actually does come, he flips them over.

"You are so fucking sexy." It's not the first time he's had this thought. He'd thought when she was on her knees— gripping her ponytail so hard it loosened as she sucked him off— he thought for sure it was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. When he had her underneath him last time, he'd had the same thought. But this is it. He's sure this time. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispers.

"You won't," she promises, still breathing heavily. He's up on his knees, his strong hands positioning her body fluidly. He lifts both of her legs, resting her crossed ankles on his shoulder, gripping her hips, and plunging inside of her again. "Fuck me, please." He's so deep already and she's already so, so sensitive. She can't take the torture. She lies there on her back, gripping at his dick as it slides in and out of her slowly. "Did you hear me?"

He nods, but his pace is still just as slow.

"El, fuck me."

He splits her legs open then, bringing one down, fitting it around his hip as he leans forward. "I am," he says with a grunt.

"Harder."

With one hand on the headboard and one at her throat, his forehead pressed between her jaw and her shoulder, his lips ghosting her collarbone, he keeps his thrusts as measured as he can. He shakes from the restraint as his hips ram into hers over and over.

"I'm going to marry you," he blurts, but he's deep inside of her and she knows he isn't thinking clearly. And normally, he wouldn't allow himself to say something like this, but she feels too good to even panic over it.

"I'm just asking you to fuck me," she remarks breathlessly.

He chuckles in response and forces his tongue is between his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing even deeper and all the restraint he's had dissipates into thin air. Finally, she wants to say. His eyes are dark again and it's almost like he's not even there as his efforts hastens and the force of his movements multiply.

She's dying, she thinks as her body jerks and levitates off of the bed. From pleasure and overstimulation and if she meets her maker tonight, it'll all be worth it. She'll adorn a halo for this moment. She's almost giddy when his unintelligible sounds become gruffer and if at all possible he reaches farther inside of her. She screams his name over and over until both of his hands grasp around her neck and he brings his forehead to hers, and then she goes silent. She's in shock, he thinks. But so is he. His eyes gaze into hers and for just a second they brighten into an ethereal shade of blue and then he's violently erupting one last time.

—

"Captain Benson."

"Hi," Elliot grumbles, and her face heats immediately. She'd run to her car after that last time and for the first time, he wasn't afraid. He knew he'd see her again, knew that there was no going back. She'd promised.

"Hi," she whispers. "Are you still in bed? Where are you calling me from?" she asks, glancing down at her watch.

"I'm at work," he laughs. "You sound like you are, too."

"Yeah," she says. She's just made it in, actually. After relieving Lucy late last night, she'd given her the morning off. It was the least she could do after coming home over three hours later than expected. Olivia spent the morning with Noah and as she walks through the squad room she waves at everyone in passing.

"On time, too? Surprising," he cracks.

"What's so surprising?" she asks. She is unlocking her office door when the desk sergeant calls her name. He holds up a small gift bag for her and she stands there as he walks it over to her. Thanks, she mouths.

"I just thought that maybe you'd sleep in. Call out, possibly."

"I mean it was a glorious night," she responds. "But not glorious enough to use a sick day." She looks into the black gift bag and she finds a small velvet box. "Is this a joke? It isn't funny."

"What?"

"I know you said you wanted to marry me-"

He chuckles awkwardly. "About that..."

"I know you were just... in the throes of lovemaking. I didn't think you were serious."

"What the hell you're talking about?"

She grabs the box out of the bag and she flicks it open to find a pair of gorgeous diamond earrings. "Did you buy me a gift? Say I don't know, a pair of earrings?"

"We had a great night, Liv, and I was calling to ask if we could finally go on that date? But no, I did not send you earrings. When the hell would I have had the time? I've been with you since Friday." The line goes silent for a moment before he continues. "He bought you earrings?"

"Diamonds," she says softly. She picks up the card to find that it's handwritten, so she closes it and places it down on her desk.

"Liv?"

"He's sorry," she whispers. That much she got from one glance.

"Guy can't take a hint, huh?"

"Guess not." She sits at her desk and she lets out a soft grunt, squeezing her eyes together as she does. "I'm sore," she says changing the subject. "Like actually winced when I sat down."

"I'm sorry, Liv."

"Don't be. Actually," she starts, her tone dropping, "when is the next time I'm going to see you?"

"I told you I was at my desk, right?"

"So am I." When he doesn't respond, she clears her throat. "So… when? Because it's been a very long time and you're so… good," she's whispering by the end of her sentence. She can hear herself gasping as he enters her right now, a day later that's how vivid the memory is. She needs something to look forward to. It'll be the only thing to hold her over.

"It can't be tonight."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because…" she eggs him on and he goes silent again. A few more seconds pass and her phone vibrates against her cheek.

MESSAGES

Stabler

because when I get my hands on you again it won't be pretty

because I like it when you're screaming my name

& I think you need rest

He listens as her breath hitches in his ear and he grins. "If we meet tonight, I think you know exactly how that will go."

"Who says I wouldn't like it?"

"Liv?"

"Did I tap out?"

"No."

"Or did I ask for more?"

"I have to go."

"Aww, Stabler, don't be a wuss," she teases, sitting back into her chair. "You can take a little lip service, can't you?"

"Have a good day today, sweetheart. Be safe. I'll text when I can."

"You're hanging up on me?"

"Yes." The line goes dead and her laughter drifts from her office and right into the squad room.

—

"Why would you buy me earrings?" It's the first thing she says when Edgar sits across from her on the other side of her desk. "You should be angry."

"You don't like apology gifts," he asks with a chuckle. "I didn't mean to be a dick last night, Olivia."

"I'm sorry about Elliot."

Edgar nods. "Explain to me this thing with him."

"He was my partner for over a decade. We have a very unique relationship and it ended abruptly." She's said this speech a dozen times and it doesn't even sound like she's trying to be forthcoming.

"I know all of this. I need you to tell me what you're not telling me."

Poor Edgar, she thinks. He really wants to know. He deserves the truth from her. "We had feelings for each other back then but he was married. Nothing ever came of it. Now he's back. He's lost his wife and he loved her so much but this thing between me and him... it's all very complicated."

"And you love him?"

"I love him," she answers simply.

"So… what happens now?" Edgar asks, leaning forward. "Are we officially seeing other people?"

"When did we agree to not see other people?" she poses smirking. "Yeah, Edgar. Yes."

He nods. "I waited a year to hear from you. I'd like to still be friends."

Friends. It's such an annoying word now, she thinks. She'd tried to be just friends with Elliot and that didn't work out at all.

"Of course we can be friends," is her response. "I can't accept these earrings from you. However, they are beautiful."

"Keep them. Wear them to the wedding."

God, the wedding. An awkward moment passes and she reaches forward. "Of course you're still invited."

"Looking forward to it." He stands to leave, so she stands with him. "Can I still take you to dinner this week? I miss our weekly dates."

Olivia grins. "I guess that's fine. Sure." Fuck.

"Uncle Elliot will understand, right?" he jokes and Olivia winces playfully.

"He's going to be at the wedding, Edgar. Please."

"I'll behave," Edgar promises. The last time someone had said that to her, it was a lie.

She has a sneaking suspicion that this is a lie, too.