Inspired by poor Mariska's broken ankle, WadeRebel on twitter posted this mini fic, and I was driven to continue it: /WadeRebel/status/1412891082518634501?s=20
Setting: 2021, relationship not established (Romance, M)
. . .
Nurse
"You really don't have to do this," Olivia repeats for the hundredth time in the past half hour.
"Liv." Elliot glances up from the end of her bed where he is readjusting the pillow for her cast. The annoyance is starting to grate out in his tone. "How many times do I have to tell you that I want to help?" He assists her in positioning her foot back on the elevation, as ordered by the doctor. "That better?"
"Yeah," she sighs. "Thank you." She's attempting to bury her own level of frustration that's in her voice - not in Elliot's relentless concern - just in feeling so useless. She's resting on her elbow in a sitting position, so she situates herself to lie back down, plopping her head against her pillow with a huff.
Elliot shuffles back up to her, grabbing her covers and pulling them up to her waist. "I get where you're at," he says in a softer tone. "How many times I got held up after being shot? It's a pain in the ass."
She chuckles. "You were a pain the ass," she jabs teasingly. "So goddamn stubborn whenever you got hurt." She smirks up at him and is met with an expression identical to her own.
"And you'd think you know by now not to follow my lead," he pokes back.
"Oh, I'm not," she laughs. "I haven't been shot, Detective." She raises an eyebrow, awaiting his next move. But she should also know by now that he will always overpower anyone with his arrogance.
"Ah, that's right, Captain," he retorts, leaning down towards her face and lowering his voice in the process. "You just trip over your own feet." He's visibly attempting to keep a straight face as she glares up at him. His reflexes are quick - he catches her hand midair as she aims to swat him in the chest. He shoots one more playful quip at her, "painkillers still slowing you down?"
She narrows her eyes at him before tugging at her hand, but he keeps his grip locked on her wrist. Lightly shaking her head in amusement, she yanks with supplemental strength. Rather than freeing her hand, he falls in tune with her momentum - his hand dropping to her pillow at the side of her face. She blinks in astonishment, at how sudden and how close he's hovering over her. "Tr...truce," she murmurs, her eyes involuntarily dropping to his lips.
He lingers above her for a moment, what feels like hours, before showcasing his infamous, cocky grin. "Hmm, I'll accept your surrender." He releases her wrist and straightens himself back up, leaving her dumbfounded at what just transpired... and why it made her heart start racing.
"You hungry?" he asks casually, wandering to the doorway.
She opens her mouth to answer but still hasn't regained her composure. Clearing her throat and blinking rapidly a few times, she knocks herself out of whatever trance he managed to put her in. "No, I'm fine," she answers at last. "But uh, I could use a glass of water if you don't mind?"
"Sure thing, Liv." He flashes a brilliant smile before walking out, and she's left alone with her perplexed thoughts, accelerated heartbeat, and an unexpected pang of desire between her legs.
. . .
"Thank you," she smiles as he hands her a cold glass of water. She sets it on her nightstand, so she can adjust herself back into a sitting position. She pushes up on her hands, struggling with the weight of her cast.
"Here!" He immediately offers his hand to give her an extra boost up. She fixes the pillow behind her back and thanks him with the expression on her face. "Good?" She nods in response, and he squeezes her hand gently before letting go.
"This is gonna get old fast," she complains.
"You'll adapt," he assures her. "You're lucky you have me." Ah, so her white flag was not honored.
"Don't push it, Stabler," she smirks, grabbing the glass of water and finally taking a much-needed drink.
"Alright, alright," he surrenders with his hands in the air. "I'll behave. Y'have my word."
"Hm, could've sworn I've heard that one before. So, this means you won't," she teases with a raised eyebrow. "I've got you figured out."
"Well, do you want me to?" his voice deepens. "Behave?" The sudden change in atmosphere catches her off guard, and all she can do is stare as he starts inching his way closer. "'Cause if you really want me to, I guess I will." He shrugs, then places a hand on the headboard above her. "But I've got your number too, Benson. And I think you'd rather I don't." His eyes are searing into hers - audacious with a hint of apprehension. He continues to gravitate towards her until he's close enough to captivate her with his scent. "Just tell me no," he whispers, mere centimeters from her lips.
She wants to protest, feels obligated to. But for what? She's been protesting for twenty-three years. "I can't," she whispers back, closing her eyes and awaiting him to make contact.
His lips hit hers with a sigh of relief - he was holding his breath in anticipation. Was he being too treacherous? Would she say no? But as she melts against him, he knows the risk was well worth it.
Elliot removes his hand from the headboard and grips the side of her face, for fear of her disintegrating if he doesn't hold her closer. How foolish he feels for taking over two decades to kiss this divine woman. In all of those years, he'd been missing out on the sensation of swiping his tongue along her lower lip. He'd been missing out on the soft whimper she elicits when he tugs it between his teeth. On her nails digging into the back of his neck. On her sharp inhales before diving in to taste him again.
Fuck, he's an idiot for waiting this long. And she's an expert at reading his mind, breaking apart to gasp, "Why'd this take us so long?"
He chuckles softly and strokes her cheek with his thumb. "I dunno, Liv. But I feel so goddamn stupid." He gives her another quick peck before standing back up. "You should get some rest," he encourages with a thoughtful smile. She couldn't possibly imagine sleeping after that... after he ignited her nerves and sent her hormones into a spiral. If it wasn't for this damn cast, she'd be rubbing her legs together to relieve some of the throbbing he induced within her.
Eventually she succumbs to a deep yawn, and she regretfully has to admit he's right. She's becoming aware of a painful throbbing in her ankle, so she should take the next round of acetaminophen and try to sleep. "I guess I should," she agrees. She looks up at him meekly, alluring him with her eyes. "You wanna stay? You can throw something on to watch." She gestures in the direction of the television. It's uncharted territory, but she's desperate to explore it now that they've crossed the line they'd been dancing on for years.
His lips twitch slightly as he's attempting to conceal the childlike giddiness that washed over him. "Yeah," he nods. "Okay."
He snuggles in next to her after she took a couple painkillers and settled back in. She wants to curl up next to him, but having to keep her leg elevated inhibits her wish. Instead, she resolves to grasping onto his hand beneath the covers. After years of nothing, she's more than satisfied to simply hold Elliot's hand as he lies beside her, and he couldn't be more content as well.
"I hope you know," he murmurs as her eyes start feeling heavy, "that it may've been just one kiss, but you're stuck with me now."
"Good," she whispers before drifting off to sleep.
. . .
Nearly a couple hours later, her consciousness returns in stages. She first notices a distant conversation she can't quite make out. The TV. Her eyelids flutter open as she readjusts to the light in her bedroom. But when her sense of touch registers, she becomes hyper-aware of the sensation on her leg.
Elliot's hand.
He's gripping her thigh and tracing circles on her skin with his thumb. She exhales sharper than she anticipated herself to, but even upon her stirring, his movement doesn't falter.
"Sleep well?" he asks.
Mhmm is all she can muster.
"How are you feeling?"
"...In terms of?" she inquires. He could be asking about her ankle or if she's still tired. Or if his hand is having a drastic effect on her. Which yes, it is.
"Your ankle, of course," he lets out the slightest laugh, like it was bewildering for her to ask for clarification. Like he isn't playing a dangerous game of temptation.
"It's okay, a little sore but not unbearable."
He leans over to press his lips to her forehead. "Need anything?"
"No," she sighs with an ease resounding in the tone.
It's then she notices his entire hand grazing her thigh, just barely working its way up. "Nothing...at all?" he asks with a devilish grin, exuding seduction.
"El..." she nearly gasps, "what are you doing?" She fails to hide the fervor she's feeling - she asked that with too much gravel in her voice.
"Figured I'd take your mind off that ankle." His hand curves towards her inner thigh, and it's fire and ice upon her skin. He's searing her with each centimeter his hand drifts over, yet chills are erupting beneath his touch.
This is happening. She's letting this happen.
She bites her lower lip, as he's so close to dipping under her shorts. But he starts to halt when he arrives, awaiting her permission. She looks over at him, already on the verge of panting. "Higher," she breathes, reaching over to cup his cheek and find his lips with her own.
He smirks against her lips and trails his fingers overtop her shorts, climbing to the waistband. She holds her breath in anticipation, and it doesn't go unnoticed. "Liv, if you don't want to-"
She releases a puff of air, softly exclaiming, "No." She reaches down and places her hand atop of his, loosely interlocking their fingers together. With her guidance, together their hands slip beneath the waistband of her shorts. "I want this. Make me forget everything else," she demands in a whisper. A quick squeeze to his hand, then she retracts her own - trusting him entirely.
He leans over and grips her jaw with his free hand. "Gladly," he mumbles against her lips before kissing her with an intensity that nearly throws her brain into a lightheaded frenzy. His fingers dance around her underwear, tracing the outline at the top of her thighs. She shifts her good leg to grant access, but he continues his tease down her inner thighs. She's radiating heat, and he groans against her lips having not even touched her yet.
This woman is laid up on bedrest with an injury, and still, she manages to exude nothing but absolute, pure sex.
He's intoxicated.
Leaving her jaw, Elliot drops his hand underneath her shirt and tugs her bralette up to expose her breasts. He cups one and massages, flicking his thumb across her nipple, and it's impossible for Olivia not to whimper. He figures he has worked her up plenty and finally pushes the obstructing material down below to the side and runs his fingers through her glistening folds. His head drops down to devour her neck with nibbles and kisses. Since she's stuck at home, he has no shame inscribing a crimson signature upon her skin.
But truthfully, he's a possessive bastard who would leave a memory of his presence, regardless.
Her arousal has coated his fingers, and he is tempted to withdraw them to taste her on them. The thought is enchanting, but he'll indulge in the erotic flavor of her another time. His focus - swiping his thumb over her clit - is her pleasure, making her forget everything else, as she instructed. Everything else, which includes her own damn name.
She shudders beneath his touch, and her hips instinctively try to rise from the bed for more contact, but she is at an awkward angle. The hand that had been toying at her nipples pushes down on her stomach. "Try to relax, Liv," he soothes, and she responds with a taut whine. "Shh, c'mere." He captures her lips with more of a tenderness this time. She sighs against him as their mouths synchronize together in a waltz, her body releasing its tension. He draws his lips back from hers, and whispers in her ear, "I've got you. Just feel," as he inserts one finger inside of her silken warmth.
A few times, he pumps in and out, and she's breathing heavily in response. He fills her with a second finger - stretching her slightly, however she adjusts quickly, and he's back to his torturous rhythm that has her body quivering. Before each partial withdrawal, he curls his fingers against her most sensitive spot that shoots pleasure out in every direction, much like the way a firework explodes in the midnight sky.
"El!" she cries out, desperate to cling onto something. Her hand fumbles with the bedsheets, then a pillow - not good enough. He notices her trying to grasp the bedding and struggling, so he takes her hand in his other one and intertwines their fingers. "Kiss me," she begs.
He does. He kisses her like his life depends on it. His fingers speed up their pace, his thumb adding more pressure to the circles he's rubbing on her clit. A high pitched moan falls from her lips, and he can feel the vibration against his own. A low rumble rips from his chest, and it drives her wild. She's squeezing his hand tightly, fighting the urge to lift her hips. Her toes are curling on one foot, and she ignores the ache on her other ankle as she knows the building tension is so close to being relieved.
"Fuck," she whines, clenching her eyes closed with enough strength to see stars. Her walls are spasming around his fingers in waves, and all of her nerve endings are enflamed with pleasure. She's right there.
"Liv, look at me," he practically growls. She forces her eyes back open to find his staring intensely back at her, shades darker than the typical ocean blue. Her mouth drops open, panting. "I need to see your eyes when you cum for me, Olivia." He draws out her full name, and she moans just in hearing the seduction dripping off his tongue. Her breaths are increasingly shorter and sharper with each strained inhale. In the last few necessary seconds to push her over the edge, his fingers thrust rapidly against her g-spot - her arousal is seeping out onto his hand, and each movement projects echoes of her wetness into the bedroom.
"Cum for me, Liv."
A cry rips from her throat as her orgasm overtakes her body with such a powerful, searing sensation she's never experienced before. Her eyes are threatening to roll back, but she tries to keep them secured to Elliot's as he commanded her too. And god, she's glad he did. Seeing his face, knowing it's his hand that she's convulsing around and dripping on, could alone send her into an aftershock.
"That's it, baby," he encourages, barely audible through the buzzing in her ears. He's extracted his fingers and is lazily swirling around her clit, letting her ride out the ultimate high. Her mouth is still agape, and another squeak emanates from the back of her throat while the last violent shudder courses down her entire body.
"Elliot," she exasperates, "holy... shit." Her eyes flutter shut from exhaustion, and she inhales deeply to help settle her lungs and heart-rate down. His hand fixes her bottoms and resurfaces from under the covers. "That was so... would it be a cliche to say I love you, right now?" Her lips widen in a grin and she dares to reopen her eyes and face him.
Their hands are still holding onto each other's, and he gives a gentle squeeze to hers. With an airy laugh, he says, "your timing is better than mine."
"Hm," she grins. "I suppose that's true." His free hand finds her cheek, and she doesn't care that it smells of her - quite the opposite actually, she finds it incredibly erotic. His thumb grazes her skin as he leans in to place a delicate kiss to her lips. She smiles against him and looks up with a gleam in her eyes when he pulls back.
"Thanks for taking care of me, nurse," she smirks. He chuckles and shifts closer to her, and she nuzzles into the crook of his neck.
"Always."
Thank you for reading! Reviews are always appreciated. :)