Chapter Twenty-One: Intimate
Olivia
I wasn't planning on this. The change from innocent to romantic is instant, and unexpected. You kiss the top of my head, almost as if I'm a child, and then you settle into the bed, into my body, your head so close to mine that our noses are almost touching. This is a different kind of start than last night. We don't feel the same urgency that we did yesterday, and while there is a palpable sense of passion as I tilt my head to kiss you, for some reason I feel as though this is a sacred moment, somehow this is more intimate than before, more important.
Our movements are slower, but there's no teasing intended in our speed, only gentleness. For a moment I'm reminded of our first time together, but somehow that too, is different.
We haven't shifted our positions, still head to head, breast-to-breast, toe to toe-- well, close anyway. Our kisses are soft, quietly permissive. There is no probing, no forcing, no wrestling of our tongues. Only the quiet flutter as we find each other behind our lips. Our hands are bound together, fingers alternating: yours. mine. yours. mine. yours. Our palms are pressed together, and I can feel you slowly wiggling your fingers, occasionally tucking your thumb between us to stroke my palm, tracing my love line, life line… both of them belonging solely to you. Your skin is soft against mine, but I want to be closer to you, closer to your body, closer to your heart. I pull away from you to take off my clothes, and you follow my lead.
The shedding of our clothes is no strip tease, but there's also no rabid urgency like before. It's just a means of drawing closer to each other. A way to satisfy the need to be near you. We settle back into the bed, resuming our previous position, kissing delicately, lovingly, without any need to hurry.
My hand lazily travels the length of your body, finding the tender flesh of the back of your knee, traveling back up and tracing the feminine line of your neck, then cupping the base of your head, my fingers weaving through your hair. I bring my hand down, smelling my own shampoo on your locks, and it's this blending of our routines that first makes me conscious of my wetness.
Even my arousal doesn't inspire me to increase the pace of our time here. There is nothing pressing about this time. Tonight, I don't want to taste you. Tonight, I don't want you to make me come.
Tonight, "I want to love you."
Alex
You whisper the words against my lips, and it takes a moment for me to understand what you've said. The sudden breath of your speech is ticklish against my tongue, and I realize for the first time since we've settled naked into each other, that I'm genuinely aroused. Not by the kisses, or by the touch of your nakedness next to me. And although the feel of your hand tracing my contours sent gentle shivers down my spine, it's this moment, this closeness to you, completely unrelated to your physical proximity that's made me notice the wetness that's appeared between my thighs.
Your lips continue to brush against mine, barely making contact, our breath mingling softly, tongues caressing each other slowly, gently… like everything else our kisses are tender, altered somehow from our usual heady passion. My hand rests on the side of your breast, my fingers curled slightly, touching your side where your back meets your front, my fingers straddling the distance, my thumb the only part of my hand that has contact with your perfect soft breast. Because of our closeness, my breasts nestle up against yours, my white roundness against your brown, and I'm struck by the beauty of our contrast.
Your hand is moving again, finding that spot in the small of my back where I love to feel you resting. You pull the lower half of me towards you, closer still, and as I shift to allow one of your legs between mine, I quiver at the sensation of your skin sliding delicately against mine, amazed at the tenderness possessed in such a muscular physique. Your knee grazes my sex and I can't help sighing against your lips. The intimacy with which you've replaced your usual frantic passion is erotic in a way I hadn't expected. This is what I've wanted all along.
It's not that I didn't enjoy sleeping with you before. Our sex-life was always full of passion, and yes even love. And on the occasions when we felt driven by the urgency of our desires, I loved the feeling of fucking you. But as I've always suspected it would be-- this slow, constant, almost fragile feeling of our lovemaking tonight is more beautiful than anything I've ever felt before. Still feeling no real sense of urgency, but wanting to be even closer to you, I lean to whisper in your ear,
"please… Livvy, I need you."
Olivia
Two years ago, one year ago, even last night the breathy whisper of your plea in my ear would have made me pull away from you, sinking brusquely between your legs, delving my tongue, my fingers inside of you. But tonight is not last night, or one year ago, or two years ago. Things have changed between us now. And although I'm sure that someday we'll find ourselves fucking again in a fit of raw passion, I'm enjoying the sensation of taking my time, making my way slowly down the length of you, tickling your skin with kisses everywhere as I shift in the bed. The idea of my body hanging off the edge as I suckle you hurts me tonight, and as I trace the outer curve of your breast with the tip of my tongue, I shift in the bed, until I can feel you placing the softest of kisses on my thighs. I mimic your motions, kissing my way slowly up your thigh, until I can feel your wetness tickling at my lips. With one hand tucked under your leg, my elbow bent so that I'm almost clutching you to me, I gently stroke the back of your knee, and you know I'm ready for you.
Alex
The feeling of your lips on my thigh is intoxicating. I feel your fingers brush the skin behind my knee, and I know you're ready for me now. I try not to buck at the sensation of being entered by you as I lick your slit slowly, trying to anticipate the things you'll do to me, so I can follow you, so we can synchronize this intimacy, so we can make love in time, matching our motions, the push and pull of our tongues, the stroking of our fingers. We find a delicate rhythm, and as I pull out of you, you press into me, and as you slip from inside me, I enter you. My head rests on your thigh, our bodies still positioned on our sides, which is awkward but not uncomfortable. I can feel the weight of your head on my thigh at the other end of the bed and the sense of enveloping you and of being enveloped by you is heady, making me feel drunk as I continue to use my tongue inside of you, reaching all the places where I know you're most sensitive… not trying to make you come, just trying to make you happy. Trying to make you feel the way I do.
Olivia
As aroused as I know we both are, I feel as though we could do this all night. As if this new slowness, this new delicacy could continue until we both fade out from exhaustion. But I know that when I fall asleep, I want to be facing you again, tasting myself on your lips, as you taste yourself on mine…. and for that reason only I begin to increase the speed and pressure of my tongue and fingers. For the first time tonight, I reach to touch your swollen clit, feeling you jump at the contact, then jumping as you copy my motions, using my initiative on my own sensitive clit.
Alex
The suddenness of your touch on my clit is electric, and as soon as my body is done leaping I mimic you, knowing that you must be as tired as I am… knowing that like me, you want to fall asleep face to face, mouth to mouth, breast to breast. I pick up the pace of my tasting too, increasing the force of my fingers entry and exit by stages. It doesn't take much force to start our orgasm. Somewhere along the push and pull of our hands and lips and tongues we come together, clutching each others legs, our arms wrapped around each other, the cool, slick feeling of our skin together adding to the intensity.
When you finally climb back up to greet me your lips are wet with me, and my tongue still carries the taste of you as we kiss sleepily, almost sloppily. We settle into our pillows, heads tilted towards each other, our foreheads touching.
"Have I mentioned that I love you?"
"Yes, but you don't need to say it, Livvy… I already know."
I watch as your eyelids droop, a smile playing on your lips as you fall asleep in my arms. I reach for the covers with my free hand, making sure to leave a little extra on your side… hoping maybe the exhaustion of our intimacy will make my sleep less active, and maybe in the morning, you'll still be warm.
I whisper into the air between us, not caring that you won't hear me in your sleep,
"Detective Olivia Benson, I will never doubt that you love me."
Olivia
I was almost asleep, walking the edge between unconsciousness and awareness. And in my last moments of awareness I can't help but respond to you,
"Good, because I always will."