10 - DOUBLE ACT
His commanding presence made itself known to her before he even approached, the fingers she'd curled around the six-pack she was pulling at to release the bottles from the plastic involuntarily freezing in place.
"Trust me," Elliot whispered into her ear next, his voice soft as opposed to the urgency in his grip.
The chills evoked by his tone and his touch almost overshadowed his request: trust me. There was no time to gauge why he would be asking her that as he turned her and pulled her to him, their chests colliding and setting her heart on fire.
And just like that, her resolve was hanging by a thread.
She'd had such a good day, too. She'd been focused on the case. She had even forgone seeing Paul as she'd previously considered, realizing she was completely out of her mind if she were to drop everything to join a rapist she had met days earlier in his doctor's appointment.
Like a fucking daughter.
She was out of her goddamn mind if she thought there was any way that their unfortunate biological connection made him her father.
As much as she might have longed for one.
The way Elliot was looking at her right now made it difficult to remember how she had decided their physical closeness was a problem if it clouded his judgment enough for him to support this nonsensical relationship with the man whose sperm she'd only, at best, half-come from.
If it clouded her judgment enough to think it was okay to let him soothe her about that and then finger her to sleep, all in the span of a few minutes.
She was trying to see through all those clouds as she stared back into his glare, a glare she was supposed to trust — and she did, so much.
Too much.
A single look from him and all her previous decisions were about to dissolve.
His name was lodged in her throat as she waited for him, but he just shook his head disapprovingly.
"I'm not happy about what happened outside just now," he growled. "That's no way to treat your man."
Your man. Rationally, she knew she was just as out of her fucking mind if she thought the gold around her ring finger made Elliot her husband.
As much as she might have longed for him.
For some reason, his fingers gripping at her so hard that it almost hurt made it harder to keep from admitting that she did long for him.
She tilted her chin up. "Oh yeah?" she said, struggling to maintain some control in the middle of it all. "How am I supposed to treat my man?"
He reached for her, his fingers latching on the back of her head. His eyes flickered; they wavered for less than a second, so quickly that she wondered if she had really seen it — but his voice came out strong and certain.
"Suck my cock."
He pulled her down, a firm tug that she immediately gave into — a tug she trusted.
Trust me. He had warned her.
Elliot unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, taking himself out and sliding into his own fingers a few times while Olivia glanced at him expectantly, all trust and no remaining resolve that she could grasp at.
After exchanging a quick look with him, her hand took over, sliding up and down his length as she leaned closer to take his tip into her mouth.
He grunted and she dropped her eyes from his, closing them when the taste of sin became way too much to handle.
All night long, the windows shook. The sound that the shutters made as they resisted the pressure of the wind made it feel like someone was about to break in at any second, and Elliot's brain stayed on alert even when he kept reminding himself nothing dangerous was going on.
At least not dangerous like that.
He kept holding Olivia's body close, his first instinct to protect her, but while his body processed the adrenaline it kept flooding itself with at every twitch of the windows, the part of his consciousness that never completely faded whenever he did get a little sleep kept wondering if he was protecting her — and himself — from a different kind of danger.
You fuck me, you fuck Dani. Who else?
Until she had so emphatically pointed it out earlier that night, he had been avoiding thoughts that veered in that direction, hiding safely behind the excuse that everything they were doing was motivated by their operation and was therefore justifiable.
The truth was he didn't want to delve into any deeper motivations for their actions, or even think too much about the fact that it all felt so natural.
From the moment they had kissed, still at the precinct, it had felt like they'd been doing that all along. From the moment they'd woken up in each other's arms, touching each other in ways they never had before, it had been like they'd never been apart. In a way, talking about it and thinking about it felt more foreign than anything physical between them.
His thumb swiped over the new ring — Rob's ring. He thought about how it felt so different from his original wedding band, the one he'd taken off not that long ago.
He kept twisting it as he thought back to his marriage. It had been a comfortable endeavor for the most part. It was certainly a much happier, more stable home than the one he had grown up in, and that alone made it a success in his mind. Until quite recently, he'd been certain that what he wanted the most was for Kathy to change her mind and tell him she no longer wanted to go through with the divorce.
Now, he wasn't so sure.
He would never have chosen this — in his mind, if Kathy hadn't left him, he would've stayed married forever. He believed in marriage, in family. He would never have chosen not to live with his kids; he'd always known he was making a lifelong commitment when he'd started a family, when he'd replaced his broken home with a new one, vowing to cherish it and protect it.
But he hadn't been the one to break his vows to his home and his kids — hell, he was doing his best to stay true to them even in this new manner.
Olivia stirred then, letting out a long sigh as she settled against his chest, and Elliot wondered how different things would be if he was still married.
Would this be a break of his vows? Would he be able to go home to Kathy after this? For the first time, he was relieved he didn't need to know the answer to that question.
The wind howled louder outside, rattling the windows once again and finally silencing the rattling in his mind.
Monday was a busy day at the bar — deliveries, cleaning crew, and the cook. The latter was a grumpy woman in her late fifties or early sixties who was also their boss' aunt. Apparently, she came a few times a week during the day in addition to being there for a few hours every night while food was served, and she was also the only person who didn't seem to notice two new people working there.
The few words Elliot had already heard coming out of her mouth were exclusively directed at him — Olivia was barely ever on the other end of the woman's condescending, slitted-eye glance.
"Yeah, you were right," he whispered behind the woman's back. "She does hate you."
"You think she hates all waitresses?" Olivia whispered back. "Maybe she hated our vic enough to want her dead."
Elliot pursed his lips. "Yeah, but why rape her husband?"
Olivia shrugged; Elliot knew she also doubted the cook was behind any crimes besides overly greasy food, but so far, no one had really stood out as a potential suspect, and they would both have preferred to have someone to focus on.
Someone other than each other, for starters.
It wasn't lost on him that she kept checking her watch, but didn't make any mention of going out to meet Edward Paul. After a while, her phone started beeping, but she only took it out of her pocket to silence the notifications; he never saw the device in her hand again after that.
What undercover cop gave her undercover phone number to anyone outside of the operation?
To a rapist?
Elliot regretted encouraging her to go the night before. He knew he shouldn't have given her that piece of advice any more than he should have offered to help her relax.
He didn't know what it was that made him do those things whenever he found himself under the same sheets as Olivia.
He kept thumbing the wedding ring as if rubbing it right might give him any answers.
The bar was quite busy at night too, and he noticed a lot of customers that hadn't yet shown up since he and Olivia had started working there. Some seemed a bit suspicious upon finding out the staff had changed, and while Elliot did his best to gain their trust, the men's minds only seemed more at ease when Olivia was around as well.
This whole operation really was all about their double act, and Elliot's gut was telling him that this fact was even more important than they had realized thus far.
It wasn't just the way the customers followed her around with their hungry gazes; it was also the way they seemed thoroughly entertained by any interaction between the two of them.
He wanted to pull her aside and tell her about it, ask her if she was feeling it too, but he felt like they would notice the smallest hitch. He filed his gut feeling away and saved that conversation for later.
Alvin Hobbes came into the bar later than the other nights, enthusiastically greeting several of the new faces and joining them at the corner of the L-shaped bar. When Olivia walked by to offer him a drink, Elliot felt his fists clenching as he watched their boss hook his arm around her waist and pull her to him, an obvious show for his friends.
Elliot's legs decided to move before his brain had signed off on it, and he was right next to the group of four or five men by the far end of the bar in the next second.
"Hey boss," he tried to say casually, clutching hard at the dishcloth in his right hand. "Can I get you anything?"
Hobbes raised one of his hands, fingers splayed in the air in surrender while his other hand remained very much still on Olivia's body. "Hey pal, don't worry. Just showing these guys that you both can be trusted."
Elliot gave the man a lopsided grin, a half-assed attempt to mask his annoyance. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"He's a bit possessive," Olivia smiled flirtatiously back at Hobbes and the rest of their audience, earning a narrowed-eyed glance from Elliot that he wished he could have concealed. "He just can't help it."
"I get it," Hobbes smiled, squeezing at Olivia's side before finally withdrawing his arm. "I'd be possessive too if I had a girl like you."
Elliot swallowed hard at the nods and smiles of effusive agreement from Hobbes' buddies, grabbing Olivia's arm and giving it a firm pull to coax her in his direction.
"Hey," she reacted, and he could tell that most of it was true outrage at his possessiveness.
His very true possessiveness.
"I'll take care of Mr. Hobbes," he said in a low voice, earning a raised eyebrow in response. "Can you go check on table four's order?" he instructed with a nod that was supposed to be reassuring — of what exactly, he wasn't sure.
The feeling of being watched really started to bother him.
"Feisty, ain't she?" one of the new customers pointed out, a bearded man in his sixties with a cigarette tucked between two fingers of the same hand that held his glass mid-air.
Elliot nodded, biting down on his lower lip. "Yep."
"You better make sure she knows who's boss, though," the man added suggestively, earning chuckles from his friends and Hobbes, who then proceeded to look past Elliot.
He turned to follow the men's stares, not surprised that their glances were following Olivia as she brought a plate of food to table four before leaving in a beeline for the storage room.
"Maybe you should show her right now," Hobbes said, and when Elliot looked at him, he nodded in her direction, clearly suggesting that Elliot should follow her. He must have had a confused look on his face, because it prompted Hobbes to get down from his stool to approach him, lowering his voice, his brow furrowed in a clear sign of frustration. "I'm not sure you understood exactly what I meant when I mentioned the customers here liked to… watch my previous waitress and bartender."
Elliot nodded slowly as it completely dawned on him. "Maybe not," he said.
Hobbes furrowed his brow. "You're a thorough guy, you've been doing a good job handling our… business," he emphasized with a look in the direction of Elliot's place behind the counter and at the frontline of Hobbes' drug deals, a clear threat cloaked underneath the apparent compliment. "I thought this was going to be your favorite part of the job," he added with a smirk. "I hope that's not a problem?"
Even though Hobbes posed it as a question, Elliot knew there was no room for any other answer.
"'Course not," he smiled.
Hobbes' grin widened. "Excellent," he said simply as he backed away and took his seat before turning his gaze to the storage room door in blatant anticipation.
The door had a rounded, glass window in it.
The instructions could not be clearer.
"Suck my cock."
Elliot pulled Olivia down, making sure she had her back to the door, and she offered no resistance before getting on her knees. Her eyes were still asking questions, but her body was trusting him like he'd asked.
His peripheral vision insisted on capturing his audience behind the glass even as he did his best to keep his mind from that part of their current situation.
Stare never faltering from hers, Elliot freed himself and thrusted into his hand, but he rapidly hardened as Olivia glanced at him, absentmindedly licking her lower lip. After exchanging a quick look with him, her hand took over, stroking him slowly as she leaned closer to take his tip into her mouth.
He grunted at the sight and the sensation of her lips around his tender skin; he inhaled sharply at her first suckling motion.
Olivia closed her eyes and took her time. She swirled her tongue patiently, then sucked, giving the head of his cock all her attention as her hand continued to slide up and down, alternating firmer and looser grips.
It was the most delightful torture he'd ever experienced.
"L-lord almighty…" he saved in time when her name was ready to roll off his tongue; hers was slowly running down his underside all the way to his base, giving his balls a lick and a tug before making its way back up.
She finished her sluggish path with a vigorous suckle on his tip, producing a vacuum sound at the loss of contact before she took him in again. His hand, as though moving on its own, grabbed at her hair, pulling her back slightly so she would look at him.
Her eyes were wide as he held her head in place and slowly pushed into her mouth, taking in the smoothness of her tongue, inch by inch, then feeling the tightening as he pushed deeper, wrapping his tip in the humid warmth of her throat.
It was pure velvet.
He pulled out slowly, enjoying the reverse sensations, then pushed in a bit faster, feeling like he could almost come just from watching himself disappear into Olivia's mouth.
She adjusted, and her swallowing inadvertently squeezed his head.
"Fuck," he raised his voice a little, his other hand coming to rest loosely around her neck while the first gripped harder at the back of her head.
Gazes still locked, he started to thrust, but his eyes rolled back when his hand felt himself through the skin of her throat.
He couldn't keep from driving faster into her, and the friction was almost unbearable on top of all the different textures. He couldn't keep from driving harder into her, and the impact as his tip hit the back of her throat was incredible, the physical pleasure mounting in the pit of his stomach, the mental bliss bubbling in his brain as he registered the small sounds of her nearly choking on his flesh.
Olivia gripped harder at the back of his thighs where she was anchoring herself, helping him by rocking her head back and forth while he intensified his thrusts. A second later, he was invaded by the most powerful orgasm, and he felt himself spill directly into her throat, then thoroughly enjoyed the sucking motions as she slowed down and swallowed it all.
This was Olivia. Swallowing his seed.
He felt the immediate loss as she finally pulled back, letting him slip out of her mouth.
Elliot helped her up, and once her head leveled his, he cupped both sides of her face, his right thumb lingering on her cheek tenderly as he battled the confusion raging in his mind between the pleasure still rippling through his body, the questions in her eyes, the impulse to hold her, the struggle for something to say to her after this, something meant just for her — but that could be said in front of an audience without risking their cover.
He leaned in and kissed her lips softly, his eyes shut tight, ignoring the rest of the world for just a second before he pulled away and opened his eyes to look at her again.
And then the words just ran free in a contended whisper.
"Love you."
Olivia's expression was of utter shock; once again, he was thankful she was facing away from the window.
Her lips quivered, her eyes fled the scene. She withdrew from his touch.
"Love you too," she rushed to say back, only letting her eyes connect with his for a moment so brief he had trouble distinguishing if it had really happened.
Swallowing hard, Elliot left her behind without another word, ready to face the eager audience that waited outside.
Thanks wildmind for letting me manipulate you into dropping everything to read this quickly so I could post. And thank you for reading! Let me know what you think :)