AN: Thanks so much for all your kindness on this fic! I'm so glad you're on board for this idea.
Just on a side note, I am not a huge fan of the show Manifest itself (in fact I could barely get through the first half of season 1 ..haha whoops). I'm just a big fan of the concept in general, so you don't necessarily need to watch the show to understand any of this.
More author's notes at the end.
(All typos are my own.)
The weight of the comforter is smothering.
She cannot sleep.
She is too hot.
Then she is too cold.
Her mind was still reeling at the fact that this was Eli's bed.
Eli - the child Elliot's wife had fallen pregnant with just a handful of weeks ago.
Kathy's pregnant.
His wife hadn't even been showing when she left for Jamaica and now she was sleeping in the bed of Elliot's nine year old son.
She cannot do this.
She cannot possibly sleep in here..
She starts to shift, grasping the pillow from beneath her head, intent on moving out to the couch. Perhaps then she can feel a little further removed from the confusing reality of this situation.
She begins to open the door, the creak of the hinge echoing through the glass-paned expanse of his living room.
She takes a few steps forward, her eyes spanning across the couch until it lands on Elliot's bedroom.
There is no strip of light beneath the door. His bedside lamp was switched off - he was probably well into the depths of his evening slumber.
She glances back at the couch, before her gaze returns to his bedroom, a silent debate culminating in the recesses of her mind before something compels her to take a step forward.
She doesn't know why she is doing it but she takes another step - then another, until she is a whisper away from his door handle.
She stills in place.
She listens for sounds of movement, for breathing - for proof of life. It has been three or so hours since they both went to their respective bedrooms and she feels like she needs evidence she wasn't dreaming.
She feels a cool breeze of night air tickle her shoulders and she shivers. That's when she remembers she is braless beneath a grey ribbed tank, wandering his halls in her modest blue pyjamas shorts. She should have put some more clothes on but she'd packed her summer sleep ensemble for the islands, which was seemingly no match to New York evenings.
She takes another step closer to his door, the floorboards creaking beneath her stance and she stills in place.
Shit.
She waits in silence to hear if he has stirred, her mind whirring in confusion as to what the hell she was even doing.
She needs to go back to Eli's bed.
Not the couch.
She needs another closed door between them.
Just as she starts to turn back she hears the handle go and the door is slowly opening.
She looks up, blindsided as his face comes into view.
She is holding her pillow under one arm, feeling sheepish, like a child who has run to her parents room after a bad dream.
"You okay?" he whispers through the darkness.
She can't help it then, her gaze spills downward to the bare expanse of his chest, the moonlight behind her illuminating his frame. She takes in the new grooves of his defined muscles, tracing every inch of him with her eyes until they land on a thick lined scar on his abdomen that couldn't be more than six months old.
She moves forward without thinking, her fingers smoothing across the raised and jagged line.
"What happened here?" her voice cracks, both concerned and entranced by the shape of it.
A few beats pass.
"Life," he whispers to her bowed head.
She understands.
A lot has happened since she's been gone - far too much for him to divulge in one night.
She lets her fingers drop away, still entranced by the newness of his physicality. She wants to know then - just how many more scars he had accumulated in her absence.
"Is your bed uncomfortable?" He asks to her bowed head. "We can switch if you like?"
A lock of hair falls in front of her face and she rakes it back with her fingers before looking back up at him.
"No it's fine I.. " she lets out a breath. "I just can't sleep."
A few moments of silence pass before he slowly steps to the side and holds the door open a little wider.
She eyes the master bed that he is gesturing, the rumpled sheets, the collection of water glasses on his bedside table, scattered paperwork on both sides.
"How about we not sleep together?"
Her eyes slowly move from the bed, back to his.
She knows she should go back to her room.
It was far too early to be sleeping side-by-side with a shirtless Elliot Stabler, but then again they had already lost so much time. Maybe this was some sort of cosmic reckoning - the universe's way of making up for lost time.
Her eyes continue to move between his in silent debate before she finally answers.
"Alright," she whispers, her answer surprising both of them as she takes the few small steps through the threshold.
She was in the midst of counting the ceiling grooves when she decidedly turns - sheets crinkling, the mattress bowing beneath her weight. She had felt him staring, her suspicions confirmed when she watches the intensity flit through his features as their eyes connect.
He blinks back at her before he shifts a little closer - her chest feeling heavy from the unknown.
She holds her breath then as he starts to tentatively reach out, her pulse thrumming in curiosity as he runs his hands through her hair in a delicate fashion, trailing his fingertips through her tresses.
She had taken her ponytail out before bed and she knows her messy bed hair would look like a tangled mop at this point.
She takes in a quiet breath, each inhale causing her chest to pound as he marvels at the length, the waves, the texture.
"I don't remember your hair being this long," he whispers contemplatively. "But I like it."
A few beats pass before she shifts her eye contact, looking at a spot on the wall behind him instead.
She had planned to cut it all off.
The salt water from the Caribbean sea, the length of time it took to wash and style it before work. It was becoming too high maintenance on the job, energy she no longer had now that she wasn't undercover. She was going to cut it short the minute she returned to New York, but now he was touching it, holding it - reliving their memories, their partnership - their past imbedded in each strand.
And besides, she no longer had a job to consider anymore, she no longer had anything to consider but right here.
Him.
She can still feel him teasing her tresses when his thumb starts up against her jaw, slowly swiping the smooth of her cheek as her lips part for breath.
She tries to steady her heart rate, nerves brimming as she continues to stare at the discolored patch on his wall but all she can feel is the brunt of his forearm resting absently against her cleavage.
"Why can't you look at me?" he whispers.
She inhales softly before her eyes slowly return to his. "Because every time I do...it reminds me how much of your life I've missed."
He blinks back at her before his expression begins to soften.
"None of the good parts," he whispers back.
Her heart thrums, her mind reeling at how open and tactile he is being with her. It was a far cry from the brash partner she went head-to-head with in the precinct just last week.
"Liv.." he whispers her name, in a low and breathy rasp, her whole body completely transfixed on what he was about to say to her next.
But he doesn't need words it seems, instead she sees the declaration imbedded in his irises.
Love.
He loves her.
And from the look in his eyes, he doesn't want to lose another second.
He moves further inward until he is close enough that she can feel his breath expelling against her lips now, the look in his eyes is equal parts all-consuming and terrifying.
"Kiss me," he whispers, part command, part plea.
Her heart hammers beneath his forearm and suddenly she is right back in his kitchen.
"El," she warns breathily, her hand moving up to encircle his wrist that was still smoothing across her cheek, her mind desperately still trying to fight this.
"I think I should g-"
"Stay," he finishes off for her, a seriousness imbedded in his tone, the sentiment carrying far more weight than just his bed tonight.
Stay with me Liv.
For good.
Her mind reels - no part of her able to comprehend what he is asking of her when just a few weeks ago he had told her he was going back to his pregnant wife.
She watches his eyes slip down to her lips and she takes another shaky breath, each inhale causing her breasts to push further against his forearm.
"One kiss.." He runs his thumb painstakingly slowly across her lower lip. "Then we sleep."
She is a pitfall of nerves, completely entranced by his gaze and his touch. She wants to answer in words but she cannot for the life of her formulate them, so she simply parts her lips, until they are softly yet purposefully brushing against the pad of his thumb.
She watches him close his eyes at the feel and she takes the absence of his stare to slowly run her hand down his forearm, gently swiping her thumb across the lines and bruises he'd accumulated in her absence.
He exhales heavily when her fingers still on his bicep, taking the unspoken permission, his eyes slipping back open before he cups her jaw, seconds spilling forward as he fixes his mouth softly against hers. She lets out a small sound, sinking into his kiss this time, far more prepared as his bearded mouth parts hers.
She no longer feels the same gripping intensity from the kitchen, instead there is a deep soft surrender. She holds him, her thumb swiping his facial hair and she can feel him sinking down into her body until her back is meeting welcomely with the mattress. He slowly nips and sucks before he latches back onto her lower lip, his forehead pressing against hers before he releases her mouth altogether.
His lips smooth across the flesh of her neck until he is brushing his mouth against the column of her throat.
"Thank you," he whispers and she can hear the gratitude in his tone, the sheer relief that she didn't push him away this time.
She cups his cheek, moving his face back until their eyes are lining up once more, a few breaths exchanging between them before she presses her mouth against his, not quite ready for their kiss to end just yet. She nips at his top lip, before sucking on his lower, and he exhales heavily against her mouth as they meld once more in union.
She can feel the wall of his firm chest flush up against her covered nipples as he starts to sink his weight into hers. She lets out a breath, drawing him forward until he is sliding on top of her, a leg falling between hers before their lower halves connect.
One kiss.
Then we sleep.
But the tip of his tongue is now flitting against hers, finding it's home in her recesses as it dips, seeks, explores, a pang of pleasure moving through her lower belly as the hair on his legs tickle her inner thighs.
She arches into it, taken by the unfathomable relief of it all - her body and their history betraying her mind and any part of her sanity.
She feels his kiss slowly extend down her throat, pushing into the crook of her neck, his bearded lips tickling her flesh, causing it to redden and flush and she arches her breasts welcomely into his chest. He doesn't miss a beat, his hand sliding up the back of her braless tank as his lips latch onto her neck and he sucks.
She moans softly, feeling a rush of heat move through her as the large muscle of his thigh presses purposefully against her core. She sighs up at the roof, gripping his shoulders, her nipples peaked against his throat as he runs his lips across the top of her cleavage.
She shifts against the brunt of his thigh, her core aching from the friction as her shorts ride up, her heart hammering when his lips slip from her chest to brush the nipple protruding through material. She loses her breath when he starts to suck through her tank, his bearded mouth rough against her covered peak, her lower half absently pressing against the muscle of his thigh for relief.
He moans in response before slowly releasing her cotton soaked nub. He drags his lips lower, over her covered abdomen, until he is kissing the small strip of flesh where her tank ends and her shorts begin.
She feels the years in his fingertips, pressing intimately into the muscles of her back, her mind categorizing each motion as just part of the kiss - the same kiss he'd promised. His mouth had just slid from her lips to her neck, to her breasts, down to her pelvis.
He presses his open mouth into her hipbone and it's intoxicating the way he is gripping her, his large, unforgiving hands holding her hips steady as he skims his beard torturously across her lower belly.
"Elliot," she moans.
This is still a kiss, she counters.
One kiss.
But a dam wall had broken inside her now and she doesn't know how to close it off anymore.
She continues to murmur his name as he nips at her hip bone, a mixture of want and need coursing through her as his mouth drags further across her cotton shorts. She sighs when she feels him kiss down the muscle of her thigh, not stopping until his beard reaches the soft flesh of her legs.
It shouldn't be this fluid she thinks, this easy - they had barely embraced over the years but yet their bodies have a knowing - a yearning, a coming back, like past life lovers reuniting after lifetimes of overdue absence.
He brushes his mouth seductively across the smooth plane of her inner thigh, drawing her shorts up and nipping the flesh just beneath the seam of her panties. Her eyes slip open when she feels him slowly hook his thumbs into her shorts, a mixture of nervousness, want and relief spilling through her that unlike her tank, he plans on removing this barrier.
She lets him drag her shorts down her thighs until he's slipping them off at her ankles, sparing her panties for the time being.
"God I've missed you Liv," he whispers up at her as he settles between her legs. He missed her - as if he missed this, exactly this. This intimacy, this heat, this reconciliation, when in reality they'd barely even touched.
He starts to tentatively kiss the seam of her panties before trailing a line of warm kisses across her abdomen, all the while looking up at her for permission to continue. She feels his breath against her belly, as his thumbs boldly swipe her hips in question.
She stares back at him, lost in blue, her thighs slowly parting, giving him his answer and it's seconds before he is moving forward and swiping his bearded mouth across her covered centre.
"Jesus," she whispers, her head falling back onto the pillow, in disbelief that this was actually happening - Elliot Stabler's mouth between her legs.
He moves forward once more until he is kissing her through cotton, his large palms holding her open as his coarse beard scrapes achingly across her core.
He is delicate, yet deliberate, and she is entranced by the feel of him, by the command of him, her throat suppressed in that moment, completely taken by his lead.
Take them off.
She wants to tell him.
Because the thin scrap of material would be doing nothing to disguise her desire beneath but she is speechless.
A few waves of silence pass before she feels the nudge of his nose against her clit and she lets out a breath, her feet running down his back, her body completely submitting when she feels his tongue drag against cotton.
Her fingers curl around the bed sheets beneath her, desperate to arch into his ministrations, but his large hands are gripping her still, keeping her steady until his tongue partially begins to penetrate through soaked cotton.
She whimpers his name, grasping the lip of her panties, attempting to lower them but he is already at the seam between her legs, parting the material with a gentle yank until she feels the night air against her slick core.
She holds her breath then as he moves forward, a few beats passing before she feels him drag his tongue flush up her dripping centre.
She groans in response, a rush of heat surging as he continues his slow, torturous drawn out exploration, disbelief surmounting at the dedication of his mouth - the deep flits and intentional sucks, as if he'd imagined doing this to her for years.
Her toes curl over, her moans dropping a full octave as he continues to make out with her aching centre, her belly and core clenching from each flit. He takes his time, his tongue intentionally circling her clit before lapping at her entrance, her body bucking as he toys with the idea of entering her.
"Please El.." she whispers, begging for relief, then it's seconds before she feels his tongue flatten and push deep into her entrance. She makes a low guttural sound as he penetrates, but it's not enough - he is pulling back already, still lapping at her folds once more until she makes a whimpering pleading sound. He yanks her panties even further open, before he settles back down and then she feels it, his tongue driving deep inside her centre with intent, his nose incidentally ramming against her clit.
She tries to hold back but she is weakened immediately, her walls unexpectedly clenching as he fills her, her thighs clamping around his face. She chokes through her unexpected orgasm, her climax long, deep and guttural and she can do nothing but anchor him firmly against her.
She sobs with pleasure, her body shaking as his tounge slowly retracts before he sucks on her clit. She lets out a long, deep, shuddering breath as her core continues to pulse and contract in his grip.
Time slows, her mind barely registering that he had finished lapping up her juices. She is breathless as he releases the grip on her panties, her heart thudding as he slowly moves up the bed to ghost his lips across her cheek.
Her eyes are wet with emotion and she knows he can feel it because he is pulling her into and unexpected hug. She wraps her arms around him in response, clinging to him, her lips sliding down the crux of his neck until she nestles herself there.
A few beats pass as they simply hold each other before he is slowly turning her, moving them into a spooning position so he can settle in from behind.
She feels him tug her back against his chest and her eyes slip closed in the process. She shuffles back until her backside collides with the tip of his erection and she lets out a soft breath. She slowly moves a hand behind her, across his hip. Her fingers softly brush across his tip beneath his boxers and he lets out a quiet groan, but it isn't long until he is gently encircling her wrist, breathing into her tresses as he guides her hand back in place.
"I want us to wait," he whispers gently. "That okay?"
That's when she recalls his prior promise.
One kiss.
Then we sleep.
His desire for her is clear as day, yet the man must have the restraint of a saint. It had been decades of waiting for them both and yet here he was, filled with desire, yet intent on keeping the one promise he had made to her tonight.
"Sure El," she whispers in a breath, running her hand across the front of his forearm instead and tugging him a little closer.
After all, they had all the time in the world now.
TBC
AN: Unlike my other stories where I make you wait 34 chapters for a kiss as you can see you'll be getting the goods up front in this one! Because I'm tired lol. X