Prompt #76: Liv and Elliot disappear at a Halloween party.
Just a Little Disappearing Act
~oOo~
They shouldn't be doing this in the middle of an op. It's risky and unprofessional, and they know better than to put their case in any kind of jeopardy, but the night has been hell trying to keep his hands to himself.
His good behavior lasted – barely – through the first hour of seeing Liv in her undercover attire of choice; a beautiful, skin-tight, black dress with a dip in the front that left nothing to the imagination.
They're supposed to be searching their suspect's hotel room for incriminating evidence while the Halloween festivities continue down in the ballroom.
But they're not.
They managed their little disappearing act with the help of Jet's surveillance skills, and she'd given them a timeframe of how long the security feed would be on a loop to keep their movements safely undetected.
He and Liv had quickly swept the room for bugs, came across a locked laptop on the desk, and a safe in the wall behind a picture frame, but little else. Nothing remotely incriminating, and no clues as to where those missing women could be. Their suspect was cocky, but obviously not stupid enough to leave anything laying around out in the open.
Elliot had taken one look at Liv bent over the sofa, searching underneath the cushions, and gotten an eye full that made his mouth go dry and his pulse skyrocket. Blood rushed south, and he'd tugged uncomfortably at the snug neckline of his dress shirt. Fought the urge to undo the bowtie just so he could fucking breathe because the sight of her like that had sucked all the air right out of his lungs.
It must've short-circuited all higher brain function because he'd mumbled to Jet through the earpiece that comms would be down as an extra safety measure, then he'd put her on mute. He'd said fuck it to that stupid bowtie, tugging it loose with one hand, and then he was striding over to her in three quick steps.
Elliot wants desperately to blame the alcohol in both of their systems even though they're not drunk. A night surrounded by criminals has made it impossible to fake sipping at a drink that never goes down. His cover's preference is an expensive Scotch on the rocks. Liv's cover has a thing for mojitos. There had even been a glass of champagne, but he knows that Liv hates the stuff and had taken maybe three sips of it all night before he'd rescued her by taking it from her. Between the two of them, they've had maybe two glasses of their alcohol of choice. Enough to warm their insides and loosen their limbs, but nothing more.
This can't be the alcohol. This is just them.
He grasps at her elbow and spins her around, the momentum sends her careening into the solid wall of his chest. Liv gives a breathless oof, and a strand of hair falls across her forehead.
"Elliot, what the hell!" she gasps, startled by his sudden proximity.
Her eyes are wide as saucers and her fingers dig into the material of his tux at the shoulders. She blinks slowly at him as her tongue darts out to lick those, plump perfect lips of hers.
"What – what are you doing?" It comes out shaky and breathless.
His gaze drops down to her lips, and Elliot knows that his self-control is absolutely shot. His large hand reaches for the base of her neck, catching strands of hair as it goes and his other settles on the curve of her hip, his long fingers nearing dangerous territory.
Liv reads his next intention in the nanosecond before he puts his thought into action, and when she doesn't resist, Elliot takes that as confirmation that she wants this just as bad as he does.
Then his mouth is slanting over hers, tongue pressing eagerly against the seam of her lips. She lets him in and then it's all teeth and tongues and fire licking its way up his spine as their mouths meld together as one. She tastes like mint and strawberry and expensive rum. It's ten times more intoxicating than the alcohol he had.
The kiss is deep and long, and he doesn't want it to stop even to breathe. Her hands slide up his shoulders to land on his neck, gripping like she doesn't want even an inch of space between them.
Liv takes the lead by releasing his mouth just long enough to get rid of his bowtie, swiftly unfastening the top three buttons of his tuxedo shirt and then her hands are tugging his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms with an urgency that has his fingers itching to do same thing to her dress. His jacket drops carelessly to the floor by their feet.
Her lips find their way across his cheek, down his jaw until they land on his pulse point at his neck. She sucks his skin hard enough that it will probably leave a mark. Elliot bites back a throaty moan of her name, loving when she can't stop herself from staking her claim. Neither of them has ever been particularly great at sharing, and the amount of attention they each garnered from men and women alike stirred the possessive beast inside them both.
The men who asked her to dance like Elliot wasn't standing right fucking there. The women who boldly flirted with him until a single look from Liv had them scurrying away.
Liv's teeth are at his ear now, and if they don't stop soon, Elliot won't be able to quit. It's been two weeks too long since he's been inside her, and he's missed her. Tonight seems to be a culmination of work stress and horniness and no outlet for letting off the steam. It's part of the reason he's been so damn hungry for her all night long. Well, that and the fact that they've had to practically hang all over each other as part of their cover. His hand across her stomach, hers slipping underneath the jacket and pressing against his lower back.
"We should stop," Liv whispers, breath tickling his ear as she rests her head against his for a moment, and they simply breathe for a blessed moment. "We're gonna get caught."
It's been nearly three months since they took that final step forward in their relationship, and they haven't felt the need to disclose anything yet. So, when they got the green light for this joint undercover operation, they knew that issues might arise with them pretending to be lovers. It was playing with proverbial fire when they agreed to this gig even though the plan had been simple enough. A wealthy businessman with a penchant for throwing extravagant parties and ties to the disappearances of young women. They were supposed to be finding evidence that he was involved, but instead, they're nearly dry-humping each other in the middle of his study.
"Uh, huh," he responds incoherently, hand kneading at her ass and hauling her even closer despite knowing she's right. "Five seconds and we will."
"Ten," she counters raggedly, arching into the touch that has wandered underneath her dress, fingers trailing a heated path along her inner thigh, teasing and sensual.
"Okay, ten seconds," he agrees throatily. "Fuck, you're so wet, Liv."
Her panties are soaked and it's doing nothing to help the steel in his slacks. He's starting to feel painfully confined and there's nothing he can do about it other than attempt to calm the fuck down but continuing is going to make that rather difficult to do.
The seconds are counting down quickly, and they should stop right now before things go any further. Jet will send in the cavalry if they don't cut comms back on soon. Bell will have his head if this case goes to shit because he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Not to mention if their hosts happen to notice their little disappearing act from the party or if someone walks on in on them like this.
"The things I wanna do to you right now, baby," Elliot whispers. "But it's gonna have to wait." His lips touch the side of her head as his hand reluctantly withdraws from underneath her dress, caressing her skin along the way in silent apology. "We got work to do."
They're still wound up tighter than a spring, and he wants to love her the way she deserves, but that can't be done right now. He wants more than a hasty fuck, and he knows that she does too. "I promise I'm gonna take care of you. All fucking night long."
"That's a hefty promise," Liv murmurs, but he can hear the smile in her voice. "I'm gonna hold your ass to it because I have to go the rest of the night soaked and it's your fault."
Elliot laughs a little, shaking his head, and pressing his lower half against her so she can feel exactly what she's doing to him. "We'll be uncomfortable together then."
Just as they're untangling themselves from each other and attempting to right their strewn items, he adds with mirth. "You could always go commando."
Liv snorts, snagging the heels she'd previously kicked away. "Oh, you'd love that wouldn't you," she says, but her eyes carry a glint that tells him she's actually tempted.
"I could slip them into my pocket, and it'd be our little secret," Elliot suggests with a smirk, bending over for his jacket and bowtie on the ground.
Without having to ask, Liv moves to help him put both back on, and when she's done, her hands smooth their way down the lapels, lingering on his stomach. Their clothing is sporting wrinkles that weren't there before, but hopefully, no one will ask how they came to be in the first place.
Holding out her shoes to him, he wordlessly crouches to help her step back into them but freezes when she starts shimmying out of her underwear until they're around her ankles. Liv steps out of them, arching an eyebrow when his head shoots up to look at her, irises blown wide. His hand snags the panties, slipping the garment into his pants pocket. Then without another word, Elliot helps her put the heels back on, lacing each one up with long, sure fingers, her hand braced on his shoulder for balance. His hands linger on her ankles, unable to stop touching her until her voice draws him up.
Liv taps her ear. "Get Jet back before our teams have a conniption over the radio silence."
Elliot connects communication back through their earpieces and Jet's voice is suddenly loud in both of their ears. "There you guys are! What the hell took so long?" Jet wonders, voice filled with suspicion.
"Sorry, Sloot, must've been a malfunction or something. We're good, but we didn't find anything in the study. We're heading back to the party now," Elliot says, attempting to sound as neutral as possible, but can tell from the look on Liv's face that's he failing spectacularly.
"Hopefully no one will notice our little disappearing act," Liv murmurs, fixing her hair and checking her makeup in the mirror on the wall.
"I'm sure the masquerade masks will help with that," Jet responds dryly. "But you may wanna wipe the lipstick off your neck, Stabler."
Liv and Elliot turn matching looks of horror on each other as they both realize the same thing at the same time. Shit, the security cameras.
Jet clears her throat, obviously all kinds of uncomfortable. "I, uh, cut the feed before my eyes started bleeding so you guys are good."
So much for waiting to disclose. They're so screwed actually.
Patting himself down, Elliot frowns when he realizes something else. "Liv, what did we do with our masks?"
All he gets is an eye roll and sigh in return.
Note: The author of this SVU: Fall in Love story will be revealed in November