Summary: Amanda Rollins suggested that Olivia get a hotel room with Elliot to "get it out of her system." There are a few ways that could go. Here's one take on it…

Disclaimer: Dick Wolf owns everything; I just take the characters out and play with them once in a while.

Chapter 4 - Brian

Damn it, she still couldn't sleep. She threw the blankets aside, marched into the bathroom, and ripped her shirt off. Standing in front of the mirror, she examined her scars, trying to be objective. She pushed the memory of what she had looked like fresh off the assault. They weren't *that* bad, certainly not the horror show Elliot had made them out to be. The truth was that Brian had taken very, very good care of her then.

Perhaps if she had been able to fully trust him, he would still be here. She considered building a life with him, and when she thought she was pregnant, for a few days, it seemed that's where her life would go. It was everything she had ever dreamed of. Well, almost. It likely couldn't have worked without total and complete trust, and she had just always fallen short of that.

8 years ago…

"I tracked her cell to a warehouse in a Navy yard…"

"Liv, I didn't want to take any chances, not after…not after what happened to you."

Oh, she was PISSED. Nick was pushing every single one of her buttons, and he knew it. She didn't like the obsessive behavior he was showing by tracking everyone's movements. If he was tracking Rollins, and she knew he was tracking his wife, who else was he following? His daughter? Her? Hopefully, she had gotten her point across, but she still couldn't let go of the anger. She just wanted to hurl something through the window.

Some days - like today - she missed being a detective. She appreciated what she must have put Cragen through in those days, but it was definitely a lot harder on this side of the desk. Amaro was stalking every woman in his life, Fin was trying to run interference, and Rollins had been "borrowed" by Vice for something involved with an illegal gambling ring.

Damn Amanda Rollins.

She hoped the walk home would help her cool down, but it wasn't helping much. She needed…she needed some kind of release. She quickened her pace, desperately hoping that Brian would be home when she got there. It was a crap shoot, really. Since he had made Detective again, he was out more nights than he was in.

But she was in luck tonight. He was sitting on the couch, watching the Mets game when she got home. She quickly shed her jacket and dropped her things at the front door.

"Hey, Babe," he called from the couch. Yes. This would work.

"Hi," she said, heading straight for the couch, straddling him, taking his face into her hands, and kissing him hungrily. He kissed her back, confused. This isn't how she usually greeted him, particularly these days.

"Not that I'm complaining, but where is this coming from?" he asked.

"Just stop talking," she whispered, her hands already undoing his pants.

"Uh…Liv?" he tried again.

"Shut up, Brian," she replied and slid off his lap. She freed him from his pants and took him into her mouth. She knew this would get him in the mood; it always did.

"Aw, fuck, Liv…that's good, but…" he tried again.

"I said, shut up," she snapped again, and went back to her task. He had learned on their first night together 14 years ago that Olivia never had sex without starting with a good blow job, and she gave the best head in any of the five boroughs. Sometimes this was all she wanted; sometimes more. She brought him to the brink of shooting down her throat, then stood up and dragged him toward the bedroom.

"Are you going to talk to me about what's bothering you?" he asked again.

"Nope. Take your pants off," she replied. She wasn't being nice about it either. It was more of an order than anything else. He shrugged and did what she asked, while she tore her own clothes off. Ok, so foreplay was clearly not on the table tonight. She pushed him onto the bed, straddled him, and started to ride him, trying to drive herself to release. And yet, she knew she was doing it all wrong to ever get there.

"Ok, Liv…Liv…this is great and all, but…" she bent over and kissed him again.

"Shut up, Brian," she said, softer this time. She slowed her movements, made them less punishing.

"Liv…" he tried again.

"Ok, look, if you shut up, I will get on my hands and knees." That shut him up for a minute. He stared at her, while she was still fucking him. Oh, he loved that…but she usually didn't. And then he wondered how far she would go.

"Can I…" he started, almost hesitantly.

"You can put it wherever you want, as long as you stop. Talking." There it was. He had heard her use that voice in interrogations before, and he knew she meant business. Of course, he'd also be a damn fool to refuse an offer like that.

"Done," he said. She sighed and got off him. He rummaged through his nightstand drawer and pulled out a tube of lube, while she watched him with her arms crossed and rolled her eyes. Of course he wanted her ass. What was it with men and…that? Fine. Whatever. As long as he got her off.

"…well?" he said, seeing that she was still sitting on the bed. She shifted so she was on all fours, and he got up to move behind her. "Now that's what I like…"

"No talking, Brian," she reminded him. She felt the bed dip, and then he was in her again. She cried out at the intrusion, but she had to admit, this angle had him hitting all the right spots.

"You want it rough?" he asked, just to make sure he had understood her desires based off her earlier actions. She nodded, almost embarrassed by the request at all. He picked up his pace, thrusting into her almost punishingly. He was careful not to pull her hair or even touch her head. Though he didn't know why, something about that sent her down a dark hole, and he didn't dare risk that. Her moans echoed off the walls as he pounded into her. He knew she'd get off this way. She always did. She was close; he knew she was close. And she finally tightened around him and rode out her own orgasm.

Taking that as his cue, he eased out of her and lubed her back door. She so rarely agreed to this that he was going to take his time and enjoy it. He pushed into her slowly, ever so slowly, watching her reactions to make sure he wasn't hurting her. She was so incredibly tight this way, and that's what he loved.

"Fuck, Liv…" he moaned. "Oh, fuck, that's good…" He pulled back, almost completely out, and pushed back in just as slowly. She groaned as her body relaxed enough to accommodate him. He picked up the pace, gauging her reactions. Soon, he was fucking her with the same pace as before, and just when he thought he might explode from pleasure, he cried out and came hard in her ass. He waited, while he softened, and eased out of her. As soon as their bodies were untangled, she hopped up and headed for the bathroom.

Something was definitely wrong with her.

"…Liv?" he said gently through the door. "You ok?" He heard the water turn on, and his heart sank into his stomach. She wanted to wash him off of her. "Liv, come on…"

He shouldn't have been surprised. She did this every time they had sex. He hoped that once - just once - she would let him cuddle her while she fell asleep after they were in bed together. But she wouldn't open up. It had been nearly a year now, and he didn't know any more about what happened to her than he had that first night she was found. She tried to talk him out of being at the trial, but he wouldn't hear of it. In the end, she had been glad he was there because there were plenty of times she had reached for him to steady herself.

"Ok…um…I'm going to order something for dinner," he said. And with that, he left her alone.

A little shorter than the previous chapters, I know…but this was one that was supposed to be quick and dirty. Next up, a little more Tuckson!