It's been a while since someone has gone down on her. A long while. Since Tucker to be exact, which was what? Seven years ago? Jesus. And honestly, she can't remember the last time Tucker even went down on her. He was a good, passionate, considerate lover. Always made sure she came before he did but his mouth? It was alright. He tried to learn, did the best he could, made her come. But made her scream? Made her drip? The way she knew she was able to? That never really happened with him. She never complained though. How could she when he tried so fucking hard?

So when she's at work watching a video of a man with his head solid between a young woman's legs making her come, Olivia's thighs clench involuntarily. All those memories of how fucking good it used to be, even those times when it wasn't the best, comes flooding back to her.

She pushes it down though, especially when the man abruptly stands and shoves his dick inside of her even though the young woman is whimpering "wait" and "no".

EO

She can't remember the last time she's thought a man's mouth was so goddamn attractive. There's something about Elliot's mouth that does things to her. They've been spending a lot more time together lately. Not as much as they could but enough to know that they both want this to remain steady.

He gets to see Noah sometimes. But only sometimes and not for long periods of time. Enough for them to talk briefly. For Elliot to ask him about dance and school, for Noah to tell him how great everything is, show him his new dance move, and tell him about the new book he's reading.

This thing is building between them. Slowly but steadily building and she likes it.

But days like this, days where her eyes can't stop looking at the way his tongue clicks his teeth every time he says a "t" sound, where her thighs can't stop clenching every time he licks his lips, keeping this boundary steady between them just keeps getting harder and harder.

She's fucked up recently. Fucked up in a way she doesnt even feel steady on her goddamn feet anymore. She's sad and confused and she's trying to fully grasp what Lindstrom had told her. That she needs to give this thing between her and Elliot a chance. That she deserves happiness. But she's so fucking scared of… everything.

Regardless of where their relationship is heading, Elliot has always had a way of making her feel like herself. And God, she needs to feel like herself. He didn't even hesitate meeting her for lunch today. Didn't even hesitate sitting beside her and talking about whatever she wanted to talk about. And she hadn't meant for it, for her body, to turn into this. A throbbing ball of need that is desperate for a release against his tongue.

But she doesn't want to rush this. Doesn't want to move too fast. Doesn't want to fuck this up too.

So she pushes it down, especially when her phone rings for her to return back to work.

EO

She's in a bubble bath. Noah is at a sleepover and it's one of the few times she can actually enjoy one. With candles lit all around her, with the scent of lavender filling the air, with a glass of cabernet perched in her hand. Things are going good. And she's content. Content with the pace everything is right now.

She doesn't think she's ready, doesn't think she can handle anymore with Elliot at the moment, even though her body and Rollins and Lindstrom are all screaming at her to fucking handle it.

So she pushes it back again, tries to settle it with her own hand between her thighs. But as much as she can picture Elliot's hand between her legs, she wants Elliot's mouth. And rubbing fingers will never feel like a swirling tongue against her. And that's what she wants, what she needs.

She thinks about using a toy but what's the point of an orgasm if it's not going to be a satisfying orgasm. Fuck. Now that she thinks of it, when's the last time she even had a satisfying orgasm? Was that Tucker too? Jesus Christ.

In the end she settles against nothing. No hand or toy is going to do anything for her anyways and she might as well grab another glass of wine, plop her ass on her sofa and watch a movie. She's halfway through "Nine and ½ weeks" when she realizes this movie is not a good movie to watch with her current state of mind. Not only do the actors have incredible chemistry, this scene where he licks honey from that spot right under her ear, makes Olivia's thighs clench again. God. When's the last time someone kissed that spot under her ear too?

Burt had half assed everything. Not that she was complaining at the time. It had been so long since she had anything and just to have something was satisfying enough for her. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst and at least she came.

But although she had come, Burt hadn't really spent any time on her. He had a bottle of lube ready to go and for him, guess that was grounds that foreplay wasn't particularly necessary. And now that she thinks about it, she not only craves a tongue through her folds, she craves a tongue everywhere. In her mouth, on her skin, against her clit, inside of her, on all those spots that make her melt.

She wants, no needs someone to take care of her. To fully take care of her. To kiss, lick and bite every inch of her. To make her fall apart over and over and over again before intercourse even happens, if it even happens. She craves closeness, intimacy, the one thing Lindstrom underlying said she has issues with. She craves to feel like the only woman on the goddamn planet. And really, has she ever completely felt like that? With her scars, it's been almost damn near impossible for her to feel confident, sexy, naked and maybe, with the right person, she can again.

And by the right person, she doesn't mean just anyone. Sure, she could easily hit up that tinder app everyone talks about now, maybe find someone who will be willing to take their time but what's the point of it if it's with someone she's never going to see again? That someone isn't going to be concerned about making her feel good anyways, not that she would want them to make her feel good.

Who she wants, who she's always wanted, is literally only a phone call away. With that bald head, clean shaven face, beautiful blue eyes, perfect smile, ripped muscles, twirling tongue. Shit. And she's pretty sure Elliot would give her anything she asked for. Pretty sure.

But then again, man did lose his wife of 40 years and even though he's been with other women since then, she tries to ignore that fucking sting of hurt that washes through her every time she thinks of that, he wasn't really himself during those times. And what if he tells her no? What if she builds up all the courage to ask him something she's never straight up asked anyone before and he tells her he's not ready? Tells her he still needs time to process everything, to rebuild this thing between them? What if he rejects her? Makes her feel even worse about herself? Because rejection from other people, that's one thing. Rejection from Elliot, her Elliot, the man she's been in love with for more than two decades, she doesn't think she can handle that shit. Especially with the thought of Burton still running through her brain. It would kill her. Destroy her more than she's already destroyed.

And steady. This thing between her and Elliot is supposed to be moving steadily. Sex majorly complicates things, turns a relationship into something completely different, and she's not ready, she doesn't think she's ready for something different with Elliot.

She sighs, thinks about smacking her head against her coffee table, but the last thing she fucking needs is a headache on top of all of this. The movie is still playing, although she's decided not to watch it anymore. Somebody to talk to at least would do her some good right now and the only person she wants to talk to, is the person she's currently having an internal debate about. But talking doesn't have to lead to anything and at least face to face she can know his mood, can gauge whether or not she should ask him because God, she really needs to ask him. And he'll probably bring dinner, which sounds really good too.

As she stands up to find her phone, she takes a deep breath, finishes her glass of wine and internally tells herself that even if she fucks up, her and Elliot will get through it. They'll get through anything together.

EO

She takes a deep breath before she opens the door for him. Tries but fails to wash the look of sadness off her face. She spent the last hour trying to decide if she should ask him or not and the only thing she decided is that she's more of a hot ass mess than she thought she was.

He can tell, she knows he can tell that something is wrong, but he doesn't make a comment on it. Just holds up the bag of takeout Chinese and the six pack of beer he bought for them.

They eat on her couch in complete silence. Well he eats in silence, while she twirls a bite of chowmein on her fork over and over again. Guess she's actually not that hungry. She tries to keep her eyes off his mouth because each time his tongue darts out to moisten his lips, her fucking thighs clench. She can see him watching her, can feel his eyes constantly dragging along her features, can hear him thinking.

But she doesn't say anything. She doesn't really know what to say. It makes her nose burn, makes her eyes water and she has to take a chug of her beer to mask the deep breath she takes to try to blink those tears away. It's obvious that he thought he was going to come here to talk to her, to keep rebuilding them, because he keeps shifting uncomfortably next to her, keeps opening his mouth like he's going to say something but shutting it just as quickly.

She feels bad, feels horrible actually. She shouldn't have invited him over if she wasn't going to say anything to him. But she feels as if she opens her mouth something that she shouldn't say yet is going to come out and dammit, she can't get out of her own fucking head when it comes to this man.

Besides her he takes a deep breath, places his carton of food and almost empty bottle of beer on the coffee table and turns his body towards her slightly. "What's wrong, Liv?"

Great. How is she supposed to respond to that? Does she answer honestly or beat around the bush? Does she risk everything for a chance to feel good? Does she want to risk everything? "Nothing." Guess she doesn't.

He sighs, "Olivia…"

"I'm fine, Elliot." She could have made that sound a little more truthful if she is going the whole beat around the bush route but she just can't.

"Dammit, Liv." Did he really just fucking dammit her? And in that tone? That tone that signifies he's actually a little annoyed with her. It makes her eyes snap up to his for probably the first time tonight. "I want to be here for you, like you're always here for me. I want to be your backbone, like you're mine. But I can't be that, I can't help you, if you don't let me. If you don't tell me what's wrong."

"Oh, like you always tell me what the hell is going on with you." He has no right. No right to demand she tell him things when he left her for ten years, when he went undercover for six months without fucking telling her. But that was a while ago now and ever since Webb and Donnely were killed, ever since he received his combat cross, Elliot has been here. He has been trying so hard to repair what he has broken with her. Trying so hard to get to know her boy. And for him to say that he wants to be her backbone, like she has always been his, makes her heart clench. She needs a backbone, so bad.

"I'm trying."

She nods, rubs her palm along her forehead. She knows he's trying. She just doesn't know how to do this. How to communicate to him about what she wants from him. Because what she wants from him is so different from what he's wanted from her. And Jesus, she doesn't even know how to ask him. Doesn't even know how to put it into words without making herself sound like an idiot. It once again makes her nose burn, once again brings those tears to her eyes and this time, Elliot scoots his body closer to her, close enough that he can take hold of her wrist that is still absentmindedly twirling her damn noodles around.

"Talk to me." It's probably one of the most sincere voices he has ever used with her. Even more sincere than when he told her how wrong the system was when they said she wasn't prime mother material. Assholes.

She has to bite her lip, has to squeeze her eyes shut to stop a sob from escaping her mouth. Her chest constricts with the pressure and when her teeth releases her lip, it fucking trembles. Well, guess she's done trying to hide her fucking emotions. Although she wasn't doing that good of a job at it anyways.

His hand grips her wrist tighter, his palm slides down just enough to signal that he wants to thread his fingers through hers and she lets him. Drops the useless fork into her still full carton on her lap, intertwines her fingers with his. "Olivia?" He tries again. "Tell me."

She takes a deep breath. Runs her thumb along the back of his hand. He wants her to tell him, she wants to tell him, wants to ask him, because she's never going to know the answer if she doesn't. And even if he tells her no, maybe he can give her some sort of time frame. Something to look forward to. But she still doesn't know how exactly to ask and she guesses the best way is to just open her mouth. Whatever comes out, comes out. "I, um, I want… I need…" Shit. Really, how the fuck is she supposed to ask something like this?

"You need what?" Well at least he's listening to her.

If she could get her mouth to connect to her brain, this would be a little bit easier. And maybe if she would stop thinking so much, they would connect better. "I need to… feel good." God, does that even make sense?

"Feel good?"

Guess it doesn't make sense. "I want you to make me feel good." It's still not very specific but she thinks it's a little better. A little more clear.

It takes him a second. Only a second but it still feels like a fucking eternity and when his hand grips hers tighter, she thinks he's starting to understand. And the way he growls out her name, "Olivia," in a tone she has definitely not heard before, she knows he understands.

This is hard for her, embarrassing even (this sort of thing is supposed to just happen between two people and she's asking for it), so she doesn't bring her eyes to his. Just waits for him to say something other than her name. But she's not sure if he's waiting for her to say something else because a moment of complete silence passes between them. She's about to pull her hand from his, about to tell him nevermind because she's not sure what to say next. Not sure how to communicate this to him without any fucking prompting from him.

But then he speaks, "You want me to make you feel good how, Liv?"

Okay. Does he really not fucking get what she's saying? Or does he want more specifics? And if she could just bring her eyes to his, it, this, may be a little easier. They always could read one another. So she takes another deep breath, blinks away the tears in the corner of her eyes once more and drags them to his. She finds the icy blue of them quickly. Of course she finds them quickly, man is staring directly at her. And the look in his eyes makes her heartbeat quicken. They're full of hope. Of want. Of love. And they make her feel a little more steady once again. He knows what she's asking him, he just wants to know how. How he can give her what she needs. "I want you to take care of me. Fully… fully take care of me." She doesn't realize how selfish it sounds until she says it. Right now, she doesn't care about him. She will later. But she wants all of the attention first. She needs all of the attention first.

His lips curve up into a smile. Almost as if those words are the best thing he's ever heard. She wants to smile with him but she's still a fucking ball of nerves, still feels like a fucking idiot, and she can't bring her lips to curve up with his. "Completely fully?"

"Yes." She takes another deep breath, "I need to feel… loved." That's what this all boils down to, right? She needs to feel loved, fully loved, for the first time in her life. And as much as she doesn't know if Elliot's ready, she knows he loves her. And she knows she loves him. And what better person to show her all that she's been missing her whole life.

His smile changes some. From a grin, to more of a caring, a compassionate, an understanding smile. Then her hand is being lifted to his lips, his breath tickling her skin softly before he places a damp kiss on the top of it. Even that is enough to make her thighs clench. "I can do that."

She exhales a shaky breath, sniffles because fuck, these goddamn emotions, "You can?" She's not sure why she even thought he was going to tell her no, why she even considered the fact that he may reject her, but knowing that he is agreeing, that he's accepting, that he's willing, feels like relief.

"I can. And I will. I promise you I will."

Jesus. To promise, to have that much faith in himself, in them, brings even more tears to her eyes, makes her panties moisten, makes her thighs clench, makes her nerves shake with nerves and anticipation. Finally, after 24 years, Elliot Stabler is going to show her how much he loves her. And if that thought alone doesn't have her shaking. She nods, whispers an, "Okay," just in case he needs anymore confirmation that this is what she wants.

His smile widens, his lips skim across the top of her hand again and he stands slowly. She expects him to pull her to her feet with him because her. This is supposed to be about her. About her pleasure and she's not going to get any pleasure if he's away from her.

But instead, he leans down enough to kiss her hand once more, loosens his hold enough on her hand that she knows he's about to let her go. Her hand tightens, her fingers clench his tightly and his mouth is just as quickly to find her skin again.

"I'll be right back, Liv." And as if to prove his point, his lips skim along her hand, his tongue darts out to softly draw a pattern on the inside of her wrist, his teeth bite her skin gently. He gives her a taste, a tease, on what that mouth can do, what that mouth will do. It makes her whimper, makes her gush. "Right back, okay?"

"Yeah, okay." She doesn't think she can deny him after that and as long as he's not leaving, being away from him for a second won't kill her.

Their hands fall apart, her eyes follow his body as he makes his way to her hallway but when he turns abruptly, she raises her eyebrows at him in question.

"Would you like some more wine?"

Oh. Well that's not what she thought he was going to ask her. She doesn't really, but a glass would probably help settle this slight tremor in her body, probably help calm her fucking nerves, probably help her relax. And if she's relaxed, her body may cooperate a little better. Hormones are shitty fucking thing, they really are. "Yeah, I'll take a glass."

She whispers a thank you to him when he hands her a glass of the red liquid and watches him actually disappear down her hallway. She's not sure what he's doing but if they're doing this, really doing this, because she has to face it, if this happens right now her and Elliot are a thing. Not that they're not a thing now. They're not seeing anyone else but one another, they both keep ensuring that, and just because they haven't had sex yet, doesn't mean there's not something here. But as bad as it sounds, sex solidifies this. Intimacy solidifies it. And if this is what's happening, she's going to have to trust him. With not only her body, but her heart as well. So she guesses she'll just sit calmly on the couch, sip her glass of wine and listen to the small sounds coming from what she's sure is her bedroom.

The wine is supposed to calm her nerves but just sitting and waiting only makes her more nervous and Jesus it would be nice if he hurried up just a little bit. Her legs are shaking, her hands are shaking, everything is shaking and on one sip of wine it hits her like a can of worms that Elliot is about to see her naked. Fuck. He doesn't even know what happened to her yet. There's been a few times where she almost came close to telling him but who wants to relive their trauma when they're belly laughing with Elliot Stabler? Definitely not her. And God, now he's about to see her? He's about see them? She gulps her wine down a little quicker then she means to and when she hears his footsteps coming down the hallway once more, she has to try to rebuild the little bit of courage she had found to even ask him for this.

He walks all the way up to her, offers her more wine when he sees her glass is empty, nods his head when she declines quietly. He empties her lap of the food carton, her hand of the wine glass and shit, she could have at least done that herself.

"Come on," he says as he takes hold of her hand once more. "Let me take you to bed."

She tries to breathe through these damn emotions again but she doesn't really see the point anymore. She's going to be an emotional fucking Rollercoaster through this whole thing anyways. 24 years of waiting, of longing, for someone will do that. So she lets the tears prickle her eyes, lets herself sniffle again and lets him lead her down the hallway.

She can see the soft glow coming from her bedroom. Can smell the scent of roses before they even make it into her room. And candles. He was lighting candles. God, when's the last time someone lit candles for her?

As they cross the threshold, she takes in the way he's pulled the covers back, in the way he's moved her candles around to give the room a perfect lighting, in the way her bottle of lotion, lotion, is resting on her nightstand.

"If I had known, I would have brought rose petals." He says as his body turns towards hers and his eyes find hers.

She shakes her head. Yeah, rose petals would have been nice but this, what he did do, is perfect because really, she wasn't even expecting this. "It's perfect."

She wishes she had a little more confidence in herself, wishes she wasn't so goddamn nervous about this whole thing, wishes they could do this 50/50, but she can't even bring herself to move. And yeah, he's going to have to lead this whole fucking thing tonight.

His body draws closer to hers, his hands settle on her covered waist and when her body shakes from just the contact, his thumbs soothe along her hip bones. "You nervous?"

She nods, blows a breath out of her lips, "More than I've ever been." So nervous, she can't even talk in her proper pitch. Her voice is so low and almost unrecognizable.

He gives her one of those smiles again, the one that makes her melt into a bunch of tiny pieces and reaches up and behind her to unclip her hair that she has pinned on the back of her head. It causes her long brown waves to fall over, causes her to give her head a gentle shake to make sure they all fall down correctly.

"You're so beautiful."

That makes her smile. There's nothing better than being called beautiful, there really isn't.

His hand tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers skim the crest of her ear perfectly. God, that makes her whimper too. "Don't be nervous. It's only me, only us, Liv."

"That's what makes it so nerve racking." Not sure if he's forgotten but this is 24 years in the making. 24. That's a long fucking time and her body? God, she doesn't look the same anymore. Not that he fully knows what she used to look like but still.

He seems to accept that answer, nods his head, steps even closer to her, "I'll show you how much I love you, Liv."

Jesus fucking Christ. She whispers an "Okay," because she knows he will. She tries to relax as his fingers skim along her ear again, as they trail down the delicate skin of her neck, as his lips draw closer to her. She takes another deep breath when his lips are inches from hers and God, she can feel her heartbeat thumping in her fucking ears, can only think about the fact that Elliot is about to kiss her.

And then it's… bliss. She can't help the breath of relief she releases at the first touch of their lips. Can't help the sigh of satisfaction when his lips move tentatively over hers. Can't help the low moan that escapes when his tongue darts out to drag along her lower lip. She follows his lead, darts her tongue out to touch his and the groan that releases from somewhere deep in his throat, makes her want more.

Thank god what she wants, is exactly what he gives her. Because a second later his fingers are threaded in her hair, anchoring her to him, giving him the ability to push and pull her head in the directions his tongue wants it to go. And instead of kissing him back, she's more just trying to keep up. His tongue, his lips, his teeth devour her mouth. In a way she doesnt think she's ever been devoured before. It's passionate and hungry. Makes her weak at the knees, makes her wet, makes her moan and with every moan she pushes into his mouth, he pushes a groan into hers. Like her pleasure builds his pleasure.

Her arms wrap around his neck, her body gets even closer to his, their kiss becomes more hungry, more sloppy. But she likes it and when he realizes she likes it, he kisses her even dirtier. She doesn't know if anyone has ever sucked her tongue into their mouth with their lips, if anyone has ever ran their tongue along the roof of her mouth, if anyone has ever licked her lips like they were a popsicle. It makes her feel dirty, makes her feel wanted, makes her gush some more.

And when his lips pull from hers with a sticky pop, he says in this low tone that she really fucking likes, "I've been waiting for you to tell me."

"Hm?" She can't really think at the moment and even if she could, she doesn't think she would understand that.

"When we went to lunch, your thighs clenched a total of ten times." Jesus. The whole time he speaks, his mouth peppers kisses along her chin, across her jawline. "Your eyes wouldn't stop staring at my mouth and I was purposely licking my lips to get you to clench again."

"You're an asshole." How could he do that to her and not say anything? How could he knowingly make her wetter, knowingly make her want him even more and not do anything.

"Maybe. But the way you look when you're aroused, Liv? It's out of this world."

"Yeah, well it's not comfortable."

He chuckles against her cheekbone, and it's not funny. Walking around in useless panties at work is bullshit. "I'm sorry. I didn't, I don't, want to cross any lines you're not ready to cross. I can't afford to fuck this up again."

"But you're okay with turning me on?"

He shrugs his shoulders briefly, skims his lips down the expanse or her neck and yes. She wants more of that. She angles her chin differently, gives him more access to the very sensitive skin there but when instead of deepening those touches, he pivots his feet behind her, presses his rock hard chest against her back, his arms wrapped around her soft belly, she doesn't know if the sigh she releases is from frustration or anticipation. His lips caress the shell of her ear and mmm. She wants more of that. She wants more of everything. "I just wanted to let you know what you could have when you were ready."

She hums. That makes sense. Makes complete sense. "It worked."

"Also wanted to give you something to think about when you came home." God. As if that isn't enough to cause her to gush again, his tongue finally darts out to run along her ear.

"El…"

"Did you think about me?"

"Do you think about me?" If they're going to discuss their masturbatory practices, he's going first.

That question makes him nip her lobe with his teeth and seriously, how is it this fucking good already. "I think about you all the time."

"Mmm," now that's something to picture. "I tried. But my fingers don't feel like your tongue."

He growls, trails those lips lower, catches that sweet spot right under her ear, makes her mewl in response. "And that's what you want, huh, Liv? You want my mouth."

"Everywhere… I want your mouth everywhere."

"You'll have it everywhere."

The solid lick from the base of her neck to the lobe of her ear only solidifies that statement for her. Allows her to relax a little more. To trust that he's going to do this for her. Going to take care of her the way she needs him to.

Her neck is sensitive. It's always been sensitive. Has always been full of spots that make her blood boil, that make the apex of her thighs moist and this time is no different. Especially when Elliot is hitting every fucking spot there is to hit.

Her neck twists in tune to his invading mouth so he can have as much access as he needs. His tongue laves, his lips suck, his teeth nip and when he captures that really fucking sensitive spot right under her ear and sucks deeply she moans his name, reaches her hand back to grab hold of the back of his head because although he shouldn't, she wants him to keep sucking. It feels really good and she doesn't give a fuck about the mark that's going to be there tomorrow.

She can feel how tight her nipples are through the fabric of her shirt, can feel how goddamn wet she is and the throbbing is so bad, she has to squeeze her legs together to try to relieve some of it. The harder he sucks, the more she throbs and, "Yes…"

It must be a good mark, because when he finally pulls away from it, she can feel his grin against her skin, can feel the way his lips place a light kiss against it.

Then those lips are at her ear again and damn, these chills, "Can I leave one on the other side too?"

Well, that's sweet. Really sweet. He knows she's a respected Captain, knows she's a mother, knows she's going to have to hide those that cannot be covered with her everyday clothes and just the fact that he asked, makes her want to give him permission. "As long as my hair and clothes can hide them, you can leave them anywhere."

He likes that answer. Evident by the growl that leaves his mouth. By the way his teeth sink back into her flesh. She expects him to move to the other side of her neck because that's what he just asked her but he doesn't. Continues to sear his love against the right side of her neck, continues to hold her close. She's only vastly aware of the hard length of him almost pressed against her ass because he keeps his lower half a perfect distance away from her, like he knows this is completely about her right now. And she knows she wants this to be extremely slow but damn, she wants to feel him. At the same time she tips her hips back, his hand slips under her simple black cotton shirt and his palm lands on her bare skin.

They both let out a groan at the increased contact. Mm, she always knew the man could back his play. And although he tries to pull his hips back, she whispers, "No, like this." If he's scared of not being able to control himself, she's content with just resting fully against him. She hopes he can at least handle that.

He says, "Okay," presses himself a little firmer against her ass, splays his hand along the bare flesh of her abdomen. His fingers skim her flesh softly, delicately, make her whimper, make her want more but on one pass of his fingers she feels it. And she knows he feels it too. Knows he doubles back to feel it again. That raised key scar, that never healed quite right and God, she has to tell him something before all of her clothes come off. Because that scar? It's not the only one that didn't heal right.

So she takes another one of her deep breaths, reaches behind her with her left arm to wrap her hand around his waist. To anchor him even more to her. And in response, he grips her tighter. "Something happened to me while you were gone. Something bad. And one day I'll tell you, I just… I just don't want to tell you right now. I just want this… with you." Although she feels his fingers tighten against her, she feels his nod his understanding, feels the damp kiss on the back of her neck. "But there's… scars. Don't linger on them."

"I won't." And then, "You're okay?"

"I'm as okay as I'm going to be."

He accepts that answer too, once again places a damp kiss on the back of her neck, moves his hand higher up her bare abdomen. This time when his fingers meet raised flesh, he doesn't backtrack, he just keeps moving. Keeps those lips teasing and it's nice. Has her leaning her body further back against him, has her seeking more contact. It's enough until it's not enough. Until her panties become a little bit too moist, until her moans grow a little bit too whiny, until her hips start rocking back against his hard dick most likely suffocating in his jeans, until she needs more.

But she doesn't have to ask Elliot for anything because he seems to read her body better than she can even read it herself. His hands move up and up, until his palms are full with the weight of her heavy breasts. She moans softly, he groans needily, her back arches to push more of herself into his squeezing palms. Her sports bra is simple, thin enough that her aroused nipples can be easily felt through the fabric. And when his thumbs swipe over them softly, her fucking knees buckle. God, are her nipples really still that sensitive? He's strong, holds her weight against him, swipes those thumbs over her stiff pebbles, prompts her to twist her neck the opposite way so he can suck that mark he asked permission for. She breathes his name lowly, moans her relief into the air around them.

It's again enough, until it's not enough. Until she needs more skin to skin contact. She wants to get naked, wants him to get her naked, and she can't remember the last time she actually wanted someone to get her naked either. But when one of his hands abandons her breasts to gather her hair and give his tongue access to draw up the back of her neck, getting naked is put on the back burner. She wants his tongue back inside of her mouth. Right now.

So she turns her head, goes searching for those lips and once again, Elliot doesn't disappoint her. Latches his lips back onto hers like he needs them to fucking breathe. And damn, this man can kiss. Even in this odd ass angle, he can kiss. But although it's fantastic, she's not trying to get a fucking kink in her neck and she's thankful that Elliot, yet again, thinks the same thing. His hands on her hips help turn her back around in his arms, help eliminate the odd angle, help bring them closer.

Their chests are pressed tightly together, his hardness against her softness, his hands trail up and down her back, his fingers grip her muscles perfectly, hers rest on his sides, his tongue once again stakes claim against hers and God, she thinks she can stay like this forever. Wrapped in her own little Elliot cocoon. She can feel the ridges of his muscles over his shirt, can sink her fingertips into the dips that define him, and she once again wants more. She once again wants skin to skin. Once more wants to feel him.

So her hands trail low enough to slip under the plain white t shirt and her fingers seek the muscles she knows he fucking spends too much time on. Not that she's complaining. Who complains when a man looks like a Greek God? And as soon as she finds a dip, she moans softly. It's been a really long time since she's been so fucking attracted to someone. Since he left, to be honest. Because Elliot? She's always been so goddamn attracted to Elliot. They seem to read one another perfectly and she's thankful for that. Because if they weren't as in tune in the bedroom as they are in everything else, she wouldn't know what to think. As soon as her hands start to drag his shirt up, his thumbs hook on hers to drag hers up. It's perfect timing, both breaking apart long enough to pull one another's garments off.

Jesus. Nothing is better than skin to skin contact. Especially when the ridges of his body seem to be made for the softness of hers. She moans, he groans, they both hold on to each other tighter. She feels safe in his arms, feels wanted, feels hot. Particularly when his lips suck her tongue back in his mouth and his hands glide along every spot of her back perfectly. From the top of her shoulders to the base of her spine.

And she can't even help but do the same to him. Over his broad shoulders, down his strong biceps, along his perfectly defined six pack, up over his pecks. His chest hair tickles the exposed skin of her belly, of her palms and when his hands drift lower, his palms curving to grab the meaty flesh of her ass, he breaks away from her lips with a feral groan.

She pants heavily and her body is on fire when he says, "I love your body."

Well, that's a way to make her feel confident about the curves that have grown throughout the years. She hums, feels a little bit more sexy, a little bit more bold, "I love yours too." She really fucking does.

She's forgotten about a lot of things she likes. That, or Elliot is finding things she never knew she liked. Apparent by the way her breath hitches in surprise when his index finger rubs firmly up the crack of her ass over her thin leggings. That feels good. Really good. So good that when he does it again, she lets out a whimper. His hands grip and massage, his fingers dig and stroke and Jesus, she really likes her ass being touched.

His mouth skims along her jawline, his teeth nip her skin softly, her hands move smoothly along the muscles of his back and it's perfect. She's stuck between a spot of wanting more and staying just as they are but Elliot makes the decision for them when he takes a step forward, causes her to take a step back so her knees hit the edge of her bed. Then he whispers huskily into her ear, "Lay down, Liv."

Although she's reluctant to let him go, she uses his hold on her hips to sit down slowly, keeps her eyes on the impressive bulge in his jeans as her body scoots back enough to twist her body to lay correctly. Her head on her pillow, her back flat, her legs stretched in front of her. It finally gives her the opportunity to look at him. Actually look at him. It's not the first time she's seen him without a shirt on but it's been a very long time and she swears, he fucking looks better than he did 15 years ago. His dick is hard and visible through his jeans and she's just about to tell him to take them off when she realizes his eyes are doing the same hers are doing.

He looks at her in a way she doesnt think anyone has ever looked at her. With hope, passion, love, want. And when his tongue darts out to lick his lips, her fucking thighs clench. He gives her that cocky ass grin and seriously, she kind of wishes her body would be a little less responsive to him.

"Beautiful," he whispers as he lifts his knee to join her on the bed and she doesn't think he can be any more sweet. but she still wants his pants to come off. She doesn't want him inside of her yet, they both know that, but she wants him to be comfortable, wants to see more of him.

"Take those jeans off, El."

"But…"

"I don't want you to suffocate in there."

He grins with that. Makes her smile widely in anticipation because God, she wants to see more of what he's packing and she can't even help but bite her lip when his fingers pop his button open. Yes, please. She watches his fingers the whole time, licks her lips when he pulls his zipper down, feels her mouth water when his thumbs hook into his waistband to push down. Although he leaves his briefs on, which is no surprise to her, he is still the most magnificent man she has ever had the privilege to see. He's hard everywhere. Muscular everywhere. Big everywhere.

As soon as he steps out of his jeans, he crawls between her open thighs and damn, she's waited way too fucking long for him to be here.

"You really are so beautiful, Liv. You always have been," he says as he pushes her hair out of her face.

"Thank you."

Their lips connect once again, their tongues back in the perfectly tuned rhythm they have already mastered. As his body settles against hers, his barely covered dick presses against her barely covered, because the leggings she chose don't do much, center and fuck. She moans at the much needed friction, can't even help her arch up against him to have more.

The hand not assisting in holding his weight up and off of her is everywhere. It slides down her bare torso, down her thick thigh, hooks into the curve of her knee to open her wider to him. The shift causes his erection to settle that much more against her folds and goddamn, if that doesn't make her moan in delight.

Her hips find a rhythm underneath him. It's slow, purposeful, causes the head of his cock to knock against her clit each time she lifts up. And when that hand travels back up her thigh, up her side, to her large breast, his thumb and forefinger finding her taut nipple to pinch and pull, she moans his name.

He's everywhere at once. His tongue is in her mouth, on her jaw, sucking her earlobe, licking her neck. His fingers are pulling and twisting. His hips work in counterpart to hers and, "Fu-fuck, El…"

With each press of their hips, she can feel her body climb higher and higher, can feel her core wind tighter and tighter, can feel her toes curl more and more. On one press she moans, "Oh my god…" because she can't remember the last time someone made her come with her pants on. And she's not only about to come, she's about to fly. She can feel it. Can feel how good it's going to be and it makes her spread both her thighs wide, makes her hook her ankles at his back, makes her moans grow louder.

"You gonna come, baby?"

She's not sure who he thinks he is calling her baby but as long as he doesn't stop the movement of his hips, she doesn't give a fuck. "Mhmm… yes, yes, yes, yes…"

He growls out something that sure sounds like, "Good," against her flesh, latches his lips onto that spot, pulls her nipple just a little harder, grinds his hips more firmly and all that tightness unwinds from the pit of her stomach to the tips of her fingers.

Her body arches, her fingers grip, her thighs clench, her arousal pours from her, her mouth falls agape with the sound of his name and its better than it has any fucking right to be. She's pretty sure he's watching her but her eyes are closed too tightly to confirm. He presses his hips hard against her, rotates them in tune to hers, draws out her pleasure as long as possible. And when it finally tapers off she can't even help the small laugh that releases her mouth at the end of it because fuck. She just came like that and she still has most of her clothes on. Man is going to destroy her. But she is all here for it.

She breathes deeply, in through her mouth, out through her nose, smiles softly when he peppers her cheeks with light kisses, hums softly when he says, "I've dreamed about making you come for two decades, Liv." Jesus. His lips move to her ear to continue in this low voice that she's sure is going to get them in trouble in the future, "That was better than I ever imagined."

Yes, it was. "And my pants aren't even off yet." The less layers she has on, the harder she's going to come. The more satisfying her orgasms are going to be.

He growls with that one, grinds his hips against her again, makes her call out lowly, makes himself groan and poor man. He's probably throbbing. But although she wants him, this is still supposed to be about her and he has a lot more to discover.

His hand travels down again, all the way to her knee that is still curved around his waist and then back up her inner thigh. And when his fingers hit that very sensitive spot right where her thigh meets her labia, he growls again. "You're so wet. Can feel you even through these damn leggings."

"Probably more wet than I have a right to be at my age." Seriously, she's in her 50s, menopause has long worked it's way through her, her hormones are supposed to be fucked and she feels, literally, like she's 30.

She can feel his grin against her skin and the man really is a cocky bastard, "Don't think either one of us are going to complain."

If that's not the fucking truth. She'll take soaked over dryness any day. But before she can respond to that comment, although she doesn't really think she needs to, his lips are trailing down her neck once more. She's not sure how many marks he has left, how many he's going to leave, but each time he sucks a portion of her delicate skin into his mouth, each time he's makes her whither, each time he makes her want more, she knows it's probably another one she's going to have to hide somehow. God, she can already see the looks on Fin and Rollins faces when they catch a glimpse at them. At least she can tell Rollins that they didn't have to waste their money on a room.

His teeth nip, his lips suck, his tongue laves and when he reaches the valley of her breasts she inhales a sharp breath. She wants her bra off, wants his lips wrapped around her nipples that are practically begging for attention against the material but she'll take anything at this point. Especially when he runs his tongue flat over her covered bud. The warmness of his tongue makes her buck, makes her nipple tighten even more and the groan that leaves his mouth makes her lift her hips into his. But he must be struggling some already, because he uses his free hand on her hip to pin her back down onto the mattress.

God, she likes that too. Likes being manhandled by him and with the current movement of his tongue over her, she knows he's not even close to being done with her yet. And if he wants her to be patient, if he needs a moment to get himself under control, she can do that. So, she sinks her body back into the mattress, relaxes the hold she has around his hips, focuses solely on the sparks of pleasure each pass of his tongue sends down her spine.

His tongue is wet, really wet, and she wonders if he's doing it on purpose. If he's soaking the material against her nipple so he, so she, can feel more of him. And when his lips finally close around the soaked bud to suck, she moans, "Elliot…" She's sensitive, she's always been sensitive. Even after Lewis. Her trauma hasn't changed how reactive her body is, it has just changed her mindset. But with Elliot, she feels as if her mindset has never been altered. She wants him to see everything, to touch everything, to sear everything with the love he has always possessed for her. And when his teeth catch against her nipple, she moans her satisfaction, whimpers when he pulls back enough to look at the state he's left her right breast in and smiles at the grin that grows on his face.

"Good view?" she asks. This is the most naked he's ever seen her and with the cool air she can feel, she knows, she must look like she's in a wet t-shirt contest.

He groans at the question, dives his head back down to repeat the same tongue movement against her left one. Soaks the material once more, sucks at her, nips her with his teeth, makes her pant with desire and only when he pulls off this time to look at his handy work does he answer the question, "Great view. I always tried so hard not to stare but Jesus, Liv. Your tits are perfect."

"They're huge now." They really fucking are. Her weight has added on in all the right places throughout the years. Her breasts, her hips, her ass, her thighs and she really can't complain about any of them. Especially when Elliot looks at her the way he does.

He growls, grabs a palm full, squeezes her flesh intimately, nips at her nipple once more, "They're perfect."

She's still pants, still throbs, still aches for more and with the way he just growled around her nipple, she needs more, "Take this damn bra off, Elliot."

He groans, nips at her again, flicks his tongue against her, drags his eyes up to her face, "Not yet. I'm supposed to fully take care of you, remember?"

She completely regrets saying those words right now. "You can fully take care of me with it off."

"I'll get there."

She would be a little bit frustrated if it wasn't for his mouth starting a journey down her abdomen. He's slow, purposeful. Gives her everything she ever wanted, ever dreamed for. She giggles when his tongue drags along the top of her ribcage, laughs loudly when he does it again, twists her waist when he chuckles against her, "Stop it!" Moans when his teeth sink into her ticklish spot instead. That she can handle.

His mouth is perfect against her, hits every portion of her, even those that are not so pretty anymore. But his tongue licks at them like it licks at everything else, his hand touches her like her skin is as smooth as he ever pictured it would be and it makes her feel whole for what she thinks is the first time in her life.

He makes her moan, makes her giggle, makes her breath hitch, and when he finally reaches the elastic band of her leggings her body is shaking from anticipation. Elliot is a tease, that much is already clear to her. Not that she's complaining, this is what she wanted, but she thinks he may find a little bit too much enjoyment in it. Especially when his tongue dips into her leggings just enough for her to feel it on her freshly trimmed public bone.

It makes her hips arch, makes her hands fly to the top of his head to try to push him further down, further into the heat of her. And when the flat of his tongue begins to drag along the top of her public bone, her body gushes for him. Her clit throbs with the intense need for another release and she once again tries to arch her hips more against him.

"Elliot… please." It's been way too fucking long since she's felt a tongue against her dripping center and she fucking needs it.

He hums, whispers a hushed, "Relax," against her skin and really, how is she supposed to relax right now? She feels like every one of her nerve endings are on fire.

His body has slid down with the movement of his mouth, his hands still hold the weight of himself off of her. But on one pass of his tongue, his right hand grips her thigh, opens her more up to him, before it slides up her inner thigh once more. She's not sure how much more of this she can take without combusting into a million fucking pieces but when that hand slides right over her soaked center, they both let out a moan of delight.

"So fucking wet," he mumbles again as his tongue does that thing that keeps making her gush. She knows he feels it, realizes that's the reason he placed his fingers against her, marvels at the way his teeth nip her skin on a groan. "And getting wetter."

"Mmhhmm, only for you." Maybe if she finds her voice a little bit more, he may speed things along.

He groans at that, nips her skin again, presses his fingers deeper against her and yes. She'll take this too. She just needs some fucking friction. Her hips arch more against his hand, try to shift to get his thumb to press at that spot that desperately needs something.

He chuckles, although she doesn't find anything funny at the moment, finally settles his thumb against her clit, laves his tongue back and forth, makes her gush some more. "Oh… El…"

"You want to come like this too?"

She does. She really does but she doesn't want to be over sensitized to the point where she can't even make it to the main events. Like shit, her pants still aren't even off.

But his thumb still presses harder against her and when he finds a slow circular pattern that makes her nod her head in an approving manner, she whimpers out, "I don't want to be too sensitized."

That makes him stop, makes her whimper again, "Your sensitivity will die down if we take breaks though, right?"

Well, that is right. Very right but… , "How long are you trying to make this last?" Her voice is breathless because yes, she asked for this. She wants this. But she really expected to be naked by now.

"Well," as he speaks, his tongue continues to lick, he teeth continue to nip, his finger continues those hard small circles, "That depends on two things."

"On, mmmm, on… what two things?" The bolts of pleasure currently shooting through her makes it hard for her to focus on the conversation at hand, but she wants to know what he's thinking.

"On what time Noah will be home tomorrow…" Noah is the last person she wants to think of right now, and she almost curses him. But when he says, "And on if you're going to, eventually, want me inside of you tonight," she forgets all about that cursing because that's definitely a better thing to think about. This damn gushing thing with this man. It's going to get her in trouble. She's about to respond, about to tell him how much she wants that too, but he opens his mouth again before she can. "Which I don't have to be. I'm happy just taking care of you, over and over again." His thumb rubs even faster and harder, her breath hitches, her hands fly down to grasp his shoulders and fuck, she's definitely going to come again. "I'll just escape to your bathroom when you're sedated."

Mmm. Well, she definitely can't have that. "Who said… God, El, who said you have to, mmm, escape anywhere?" Even if she is too sedated, which she very well may be, she wants to watch. No, she wants to help.

She can once again feel his grin against her flesh, "Okay, then. I won't escape anywhere." Good.

Her orgasm is building, deep in her core, and she feels like if she stops talking, it's going to build a little too quickly. "I, aaahhh… want to, mmm, take care of you too."

"You have a lot of wants, Benson."

Jackass. "Shut up, asshole."

That makes him laugh. Right against her waistband and goddamn, her fucking pants need to come off already. "I'll give you anything you want, Liv."

Oh, well if that's the case. "I want my, shit… want my fucking pants off."

He hums, speeds up the movement of his thumb even more, uses the seam of her leggings to give her more friction and Jesus, she's so fucking wet the fabric of her leggings and her undies are gradually sliding along her perfectly. "I'll get there. Will you just let me make you come again?"

Right. That's what his thumb and mouth are currently working on. And if she would just shut the fuck up and relax into how goddamn good it feels, that's exactly what she'll do. So she whimpers again, makes her mind stop thinking about anything other than the fact that it's winding tighter and when she hears him say, "Tell me if I'm doing something wrong," her body unwinds once more. He's not doing anything wrong, each pass of everything he does is meaningful and purposeful, but just to know that he cares enough to learn, makes her body explode with want, makes her heart grow with love.

Her body trembles at the intensity of it, her lungs fight to try to remember how to breathe in air and fuck, if he doesn't get her damn pants off now she may actually kill him. And she almost does, she's ready to, when she feels his lips connect to her inner clothed thighs. She doesn't want to feel his mouth over clothes anymore. She's two orgasms in and the next one she has, she wants her fucking pants off.

"Elliot…" it's an agitated moan that makes him laugh once more and really, she doesn't understand why he keeps fucking laughing.

Thankfully, for himself or for her, she's not quite sure, his fingers hook into the waistband of her pants and his mouth continues its journey down. Well, if that's not the perfect combination for both of them to continue to get what they want. He still wants to give her everything but is trying to speed it a little bit along for the sake of her sanity. She'll take it.

His body pulls them down, her hips raise to help them go and of course the asshole leaves her fucking underwear behind.

She wants to protest, wants to whine and complain but it's really hard to do that when Elliot's bare tongue drags along the side of her calf. Thank God for these fucking leggings now.

The plain grey cotton of her panties aren't special in any way and she kind of feels like an idiot for it. She invited him over with the possible intention of asking him for this, the least she could have done was put on some fucking lace. But her nonmatching white sports bra has done them a lot of good already and with the way his eyes drape along the heat of her, the blue of them growing incredibly darker, she doesn't give a fuck about lace.

She only cares about the fact that her leggings finally hit the floor, that his mouth sears the skin of her bare legs, that she once more feels hotter. And when he sits up on his knees between her thighs so he can grip her calves with both of his hands, she moans lowly. But the grip only lasts a second, one hand leaving long enough to reach up and grab her lotion he had placed on her nightstand. Shit. Guess it's a good thing Noah isn't due home until later tomorrow because she has a feeling she's not getting any sleep tonight. And now that she thinks of Noah, she realizes she never answered that part of his question. Her mind too wrapped up in the possibility of being able to see him, to touch him, to make him come too.

"We have time, El."

She doesn't need to explain that any further. There's time for everything and then, since it's only pushing nine, there's most likely time for sleep, and then time for more. He can do everything he ever fantasized doing with her and she'll still get him inside of her. That and the knowledge that his fantasies have included exactly what she needs, makes her gush again.

He groans a, "Good," runs his hand down to her ankle to lift it to his lips, smiles along her flesh when she giggles once more. Guess since he has the time, he's just going to discover all of her secrets. Just the thought that he is going to rub her aching muscles is enough to have her panting. But as she watches him actually squeeze a dollop of lotion upon the top of her left foot, the product cool against her overheated skin, she trembles. Is he seriously about to rub her whole body? Because if he is, she's even more in love with him than she thought she was.

"Elliot…" she really hadn't expected so much. No one has ever cared so completely for her and to know he is going to, that he's not even close to being finished, that at some point his hot wet mouth is still going to sear her bare skin, that at some point he's going to be inside of her, it's almost overwhelming.

As he situates himself into a more comfortable position, his body plopped on his ass instead of his knees, he takes hold of her left heel, uses the tips of his fingers to spread the lotion outwards, kisses the inside of her foot once more and whispers right when those fingers dig into the sore muscles, "Relax, baby. I'll take care of you."

She didn't know how sore she actually was. She should have known. Should have known that 16 hour work days on her feet at her age was going to cause some fucking damage, but she had no idea the extent of that damage until his hands started squeezing her muscles, until lotion was spread everywhere. It feels good, divine even, but on some spots, it hurts. Those spots that are knotted just a little bit too tight even for Elliot's liking. He slows down on them, applies less pressure, moves the angle of his presses in different directions, tells her to breathe deeply, and she doesn't know how or where he learned the gift of massage but she is so fucking greatful he did.

Her eyes are closed, her body relaxed into the intimate way he moves his hands along her and she's so wrapped up in how good it feels, in the tiny bolts of pleasure that move through her, in the way she clenches each time his fingers find a sensitive spots along her long freckled legs (the inside of her foot, the back of her knee, that spot right where her thigh meets her labia), so engrossed in how goddamn satisfying it is that she completely misses his fingers hook into the hem of her underwear. Her eyes open slowly when she hears him growl out, "Lift," and what she's met with in his eyes makes her gush again.

His icy blues are trained on her. On the heat of her, on the panties that are rendered useless between her legs and it makes her smile. Makes her almost laugh at the look of pure want on his face. Because she was content for the time being, content with her panties still on but it seems as if he's not content anymore. "You want to see me, El?" Her hips already lifting, to give him what he wants because fuck, she wants it too.

He growls, tugs the garment down just a little bit faster, "Fuck yes, I do. I can see you clenching through the fabric. I need to actually see you."

Damn. But as much as she needs to be naked, she's not done enjoying this yet. He's barely finishing up on her legs and she has so many more knots that need to be worked out. "I don't want you to stop," she whispers when she feels her undies slip off her ankles. She watches him with hooded eyes bring those undies to his nose for a deep inhale and shit. That is by far the hottest thing she has ever seen.

He lets out a growl, drops the garment somewhere, says, "You smell just as good as you look," drapes his body back over hers, connects his lips to hers in a devastating kiss and hooks his thumbs on her bra. He pulls away just enough to say, "I'm not stopping. Just want you naked," before the flimsy garment is lifted over her head.

And then he sits up, eyes the entire expanse of her body, lifts his own hand to squeeze the thick length of himself in his boxers. Goddamn. He's going to kill her.

She watches, watches his eyes travel down and down and watches as they hit the apex of her thighs, watches them darken even more. She spreads herself open a little bit wider for him. It's not like he's not going to be close and personal to her, he better be up close and personal to her, and if he wants a look now, why not let him look?

It makes him groan, makes him squeeze his cock once more, makes him tell her how beautiful she is once again. Her nipples are taut, her sex is wet, her muscles are throbbing for his deep fingers and as much as she likes being looked at like she's the only woman who exists, she wants something more again. It's about to beg him to do something but he beats her to it. Lotions up his hands, connects them back to upper thighs, makes her moan, makes her eyes close once more, makes her body relax back into the movement of his fingers.

He's everywhere except for the parts she needs him the most. His fingers only dig deeply into the sensitive skin on her very inner thighs, only squeeze along the thick flesh of her breasts, and by the time his hands make it to her shoulders, she's damn near withering in anticipation. But Elliot is thorough. Maybe overly thorough because she doesn't think anyone has ever rubbed the tips of her fingers and Jesus, who knew she would like that so much too.

She's so relaxed. So drowsy. Can feel her eyes and her muscles getting heavier. "You're going to put me to sleep," she whispers as her eyes open slightly to watch him pull her right hand up to repeat the same deep movements.

He smiles, an affectionate smile, that makes her smile back and says, "Before you do, roll over."

Oh, okay. She can do that. She can definitely do that. She's just about to roll, just about to show him her backside but his hands suddenly on her hips stop her. And before she can ask anything, he whispers something that sounds like, "I gotta…" and drops his mouth directly onto her aroused nipple.

It causes her to call out, makes her buck, makes her hands fly to the back of his head to keep him there. He uses that perfect combination of everything against her, makes her stiff peak even stiffer, makes her even wetter, makes her feel that overwhelming tightness start again.

God, they really are sensitive, and when she moans, "The other one too, El," he switches, runs his tongue through the valley of her breasts, uses his fingers to roll the saliva covered nipple while his mouth does wonders on her other. Each pass of his tongue feels like it's right against her clit and Jesus Christ, if he would just grind his hips down a little bit to give her some friction again she's going to come.

When he sucks as much of her into his mouth as possible, she whimpers, "Fuck, Elliot…"

"You gonna come again?" He growls around a mouth full of flesh. She can hardly understand him but she is able to make it out.

"Mhmm, if you…" Guess she doesn't need to finish that sentence because before she can, one of his hands slides down her belly, all the way to the apex of her thighs. She's wet, slippery, allows his fingers to slide right through her folds. They both groan in satisfaction, her hips press up, his fingers explore her briefly before his index one settles at her entrance, "Yeeess, that. If you do that."

He groans lowly, deeply, presses against her slowly makes her want him even more. And when his finger finally penetrates she lets out a feral sound. "Uhhh, Elll, El, Elliot." She's always been tight. Has always had to take a second to adjust to anything and with how thick just one of his fingers are, she has to physically relax herself to get her muscles to loosen enough for him.

"There you go, baby," he groans once the initial clench of her is gone. His fingers twirls in her slightly, as he says, "Jesus, Liv. You feel… God, I don't even have words."

That's okay, she doesn't really need words. She just needs his tongue to keep swirling around her nipple like it's doing right now and needs that finger to, oh, to pump in and out of her. It's good, incredible, and mind-blowing. Has her body building higher and higher but she has this intense need for more. To be stretched more, to feel more. "Can you… another one?"

"Yeah, baby. Anything you need."

The stretch is delicious, satisfying, exactly what she needs and she really had no fucking idea Elliot's fingers were so goddamn thick and long. And when those fingers curve up perfectly, to thump into that spot that makes her spiral out of control and his mouth sucks at her, that coiled tightness unwinds slowly. It unwinds with the languid thumping of her g spot, with the slow suck of her nipples, with the light flicks of his tongue and mmmm. Yeah, that might have been one of the best orgasms she's ever had and he didn't even touch her clit. The tips of her toes tingle, her fingers are numb, her throat release small pants of his name, her body gushes.

She whimpers when he starts to pull his fingers from her slowly but makes sure to relax enough to let him. She feels sort of empty but the thought that she gets the thick length of him eventually inside of her, makes the feeling a little less extreme. And when he lifts those fingers covered in her arousal to his mouth, she almost closes her eyes. There really is only so much fucking sexiness she can take. But she can't seem to draw her eyes away from him, away from his tongue swirling around his covered fingers and when he groans out, "Fuck, you taste heavenly," she swears she fucking leaks some more.

The want to kiss him, to drink herself from his lips is almost overwhelming, and she seems to push herself up at the same time he leans himself down. It's all tongue and teeth and damn, she really does taste good. His body sinks her back into the mattress below her, her thighs wrap around his waist, her arms around his neck, her hands rub up and down along the muscles of his back, and she has never felt more safe in her life. He kisses her hungrily, swipes his tongue along her mouth like he's been doing it for years and it makes her want things, makes her crave things.

"I want you…mmm…" it's really hard to speak when Elliots lips are latched onto every piece of skin they can reach.

"You want what, Liv?"

"I want you to go down on me."

He groans, drags his tongue up the expanse of her neck, nips at her chin, whispers, "After I rub your back."

"But…" later, he can do that later.

He shakes his head against her neck, licks her skin again, places his hands on her hips, "I have to see all of you."

Well, since he says it like that. She uses his grip on her hips to roll onto her belly, once more sinks into the mattress, marvels in the way he groans, in the way he once more calls her beautiful. Geez, she's never heard someone call her beautiful so many times in one night. The mattress dips with the weight of his body moving and when she feels the tiny cool drops of lotion down her spine, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

Her back hurts her. On a daily basis now. She's not sure if it's her age, her job, her big breasts, but it hurts. It's mostly the reason why she's done chasing after perps. If she twists the wrong way? Fuck her life. She's kinked for what seems like forever because it's not like she has the time to go get a massage. But with Elliot, she's never going to have to worry about the state of her back again. Man's hands? They're wonderful. Even against those hard spots that have been there for who knows how long.

He curses under his breath at the feeling of them, tells her he'll never let her back get this bad ever again and really, what a promise to make. She's not sure if she actually drifts off but she is so goddamn relaxed that she can only focus on the feeling of his hands. Along her back, over her ass, down the back of her thighs, back to her ass. And when she feels his lips press a kiss between her shoulder blades, she purrs.

His mouth drags down the expanse of her spine. His tongue licks, his teeth nip, his lips suck and she has never been so turned on. She savors the feel of his hands roughly against her asscheeks, in the feel of his mouth getting closer and closer to where she wants him. The man really is thorough, not a portion of her back goes untouched, goes unkissed and once his teeth sink into her ass, she lifts her hips for more contact, moans in relief against her pillow.

He groans against her, sinks his teeth a little bit further, makes her thighs twitch. She's never been a buttplay type of woman. She can't even remember how many times she turned down Cassidy's suggestion to try. But with Elliot? With the way his hands glide along the meaty flesh of her cheeks, of her thighs, with the way he spreads her cheeks wide so he can see all of her, with the way he finally settles his tongue against her entrance from behind to glide slowly up the crack of her ass, she thinks that maybe, someday, in the future, she'll go there with Elliot. Maybe. And when he does it once more, she thinks she probably will.

"Oh, Elliot…"

He groans lowly, lifts her hips even more, dips his tongue even further so he can knock it against her clit a few times and although it's heaven, it's not exactly what she had in mind. But like all tonight, she doesn't even have to tell him.

"Roll back, baby… if that's okay."

That's more than okay. It gives her a better view, gives him a better angle, makes it more intimate. And she is all for intimacy with this man. Fucking Lindstrom and his goddamn mind reading ability. Guess that's what she pays him the big bucks for.

He helps her settle, maneuvers his body between her open thighs, slides his hands up the expanse of her long legs. At this point her body is trembling with need. She's not really nervous anymore, lots of foreplay and discovery will do that. But she's still anxious. For this and for everything that comes after this. The fact that she can now actually say that Elliot Stabler has kissed every single part of her is going to take some time for her to get used to but he has. And no matter what happens, she knows she wants him to do it over and over again.

His body drapes back over hers, his mouth sears hers with a wet and juicy kiss, his lips travel once more down the entirety of her body. Down the slope of her neck, down the valley of her breasts, up and over her taut nipples, down her stomach, straight to her heat. As he moves down, he situates himself further down the mattress, hooks both her legs over his shoulders, opens her up to him.

She can't help but watch. Can't help but look at the way his eyes grow dark at the sight of her, at the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips, at the way his hands grip her thighs just a little bit more. It's intoxicating. He's intoxicating. For just like her aroused does things to him, him aroused does things to her too and God, she really hopes she can at least help him out at the end of this. Because he deserves it, he really does.

But she wants his mouth on her, needs his mouth on her first and the lift of her hips is purely instinctual. She doesn't get very far though. The grip of his hands moves instantly to her hips to hold her down and she damn near whines in protest. She's waited long enough, she really fucking has. It's taken them 24 years to actually get here and she just went through a long, satisfying, round of foreplay. Well, oral sex can still be considered foreplay but still. She needs more now.

"Elliot… please."

"I got you, Olivia." As he speaks his lips drag along her inner thighs, his tongue darts out to lap at her arousal, her hips wiggle to try to bring him closer. "Stay still."

She huffs. He really is an asshole. And she's just about to call him one again when his tongue finally drags along the extremely sensitive spot between her inner thigh and labia. "Yeessss…" She wanted the tease, it was something she had asked for but she's over it at this point. And she's going to make it damn well known if she has to. So when that tongue starts to once more backtrack down her inner thigh, she squeezes her thick thighs tightly, sinks her short kept nails into the back of bald head, not hard, just enough for him to notice, and says, "Please, stop teasing now." It's been too long and she can't handle it anymore.

His teeth sink into her thigh once and then she hears, "Okay, baby."

She should have prepared herself a little more, she really should have. But she didn't expect him to dive right in like he does. The man can move his mouth, he really fucking can. He sucks her labia into his mouth, swipes his tongue through her folds, from her entrance to her clit and goddamn, she didn't think she could arch so hard. The feral groans that escape his mouth cause her to purr in a way she hasn't done in she doesn't even fucking know how long. And he likes that sound, groans again intentionally to make her do it again. Just as quick as she does it again, his tongue settles at her entrance and presses inside of her. Damn. This? She never really liked this. Oral sex? Hell yes, there's a reason why she's craving it, but a tongue inside of her was never one of her favorite things.

But Elliot's tongue? Jesus Christ. It's heavenly. It's long, thick, warm and wet. Reaches places inside of her that she didn't even know a tongue could reach. He laps at her, twirls around inside of her, makes her moan, makes her tremble and when it curves up perfectly to hit that spongy area on her top wall she gushes. He groans again, lets her feel the vibrations of it run up her spine, makes her clench at him, makes her want him deeper.

The tip of his nose rubs against her clit and yes, she wants, needs, attention there too. "More on my… mmmm, my clit, El."

Elliot is a pleaser. Is he a tease? Hell yes he is but his want, his need, to make her come is more powerful than anything. She's pretty sure when it boils down to it, he will never tell her no. Whatever she wants, she's going to get. And that excites her, has her spilling her release on a tight clench and loud moan as soon as his thumb finds a light but purposeful pressure against her.

"God, Elliot." She's not sure how he keeps making her come some hard, how he knows how to make her come some hard but fuck, they really are some of the best orgasms she's ever had. And they keep getting better. When she feels his tongue dive just a tiny bit deeper, she lets out a noise she doesn't think she's ever made in her life, moans, "It's so good," makes him growl again.

He gives her a few more solid thrusts, before he withdrawals and once more brings his tongue through her folds. God, she really has missed this. There will never be anything better than a mouth against her.

When his tongue rubs over the hood of her clit, she moans deeply, tries to spread her thighs even wider, tries to give him more access to her. He takes a second to, what she thinks, explore her, taste her, savor her, learn her. Knocks his tongue in all different directions along her most sensitive bud, rubs the flat of it against her, flicks her with the tip, draws some sort of pattern that makes her breath hitch, sucks her deeply into his mouth. "Ahhh, El." She's dripping, she can feel it. Can feel herself running down the crack of her ass, can feel the wet spot under her and really, it is not okay for her to be this wet at her age. Guess lube will never be a necessity with this man. And when his mouth finds a perfect fucking combination of sucks and licks, his tongue rolling around her between every deep suck, she makes that fucking noise again. Louder this time, loud enough that she's sure her neighbors heard but she doesn't really care.

He sucks at her, laves at her, makes her arch, makes her call out his name, makes her drip, builds that pressure deep inside of her. He's slow with his movements. Builds her up but not too quickly. Let's her enjoy the climb and God, this is exactly what she needed.

Her hands grip his shoulders, the back of his head, the sheets beside her for leverage and when his mouth once more sucks at her, she can't help but tell him how much she likes this, how much she's always liked this, how much more she likes it now. "This has… mmm, has definitely become my favorite thing, GOD, again."

She can feel his grin, almost moans her disapproval when he stops long enough to say, "Good. Because it's become mine too."

His hands are rough on her thighs to keep her spread open but as he dives his lips back to her clit, his right hand abandons its place on her thigh, so his fingers can swipe along her entrance.

Her clench is instant, her body needs something and the suggestion makes her plead, "Yes, yes, yes… please." She can't think about how thoughtful it was that he asked because he's already pressing inside of her.

First one finger, then another and she swears her fucking eyes roll back. It only takes him a second, a second of adjusting his angle, of shifting his body, of latching his lips before he finds it. Finds that perfect combination of sucks and licks and rough presses against her g spot. It makes her moan loudly again. Makes her hips buck and his other hand abandons her thigh to drape along her waist. Another manhandle that makes her gush some more. That makes her moan out a thanks because her hips thrashing is completely out of her control.

And then… those fingers hook harder. His sucks grow deeper. His licks are faster. Her pleasure builds, her body winds tighter and she shatters. Shatters in a way that she sees stars behind her eyes. In a way that makes her whole body tense in ecstasy but he doesn't stop.

He keeps his sucks, keeps his hooks, keeps his licks, and she wants more. Wants him to keep doing exactly what he's doing because she can feel something different. She's not sure what it is but she feels it and she wants it. But she's oversensitized, her body keeps building higher, she doesn't know where her peak is and she has no goddamn idea what the fuck is happening. Her body tries to propel him off of her, her hands fly to his head to try to aggressively push his mouth away. All the while, she whimpers loudly, "Ellllioottt… wait, no, don't… ssaaasss, GAAHH, don't, don't stop."

She's thankful that he seems to understand that she really doesn't want him to stop and on one hard push, seriously she thinks she may have just punched him in the forehead a little bit too hard, his hand that holds her waist flies up to grab both of her flying wrists. It's not hard, it's just enough to get her to stop flailing them around. And she's thankful for that too because she needs something to hold onto. Something to keep her grounded. Her hands maneuver in his hold, so that she grasps his wrist and he maneuvers his so he can keep hold of one of hers and rests their hands back on her belly.

It provides her with the sense of calm she seemed to have needed, makes her body finally relax into the overwhelming pleasure he's giving her with his mouth and fingers. Her body coils tighter, her moans grow louder, she keeps thinking there's no fucking way she can climb higher. But on one hard hook tuned perfectly to one hard suck, all the tension that he has built up throughout the night, even though she's had multiple orgasms by now, releases on a scream and a hard push. It must be really fucking hard because his hand flies somewhere and a stream of liquid pours from her.

"UHHH! ELLLIIIOOOTT!"

He doesn't let up. Keeps his lips latched against her, changes his hard sucks for deep, slow sucks, lets all the fluid release from her, lets all her tension unwind, lets her body finally relax under him. Jesus Christ. She can't even move, let alone tell him to stop but she doesn't need to tell him to stop. Just like she hasn't really needed to tell him anything through this whole experience. With one last suck, one last lick from her entrance to her way to oversensitized clit, he slowly drags his lips back up her body. He's soaked, she's soaked, the bed is soaked, and she is flying. Seriously flying. So high that she can barely even kiss him back when his lips land on hers. She tries, really tries, darts her tongue out to run lightly against his but he doesn't allow her much access. Only kisses her briefly and falls on his side to the left of her.

Her breaths are heavy, her muscles are relaxed, her limbs are numb, her mind is almost in shut off mode but there's one more thing. One more thing that needs to be taken care of and she is not succumbing to sleep until it is. She doesn't think she can physically move her muscles but she turns her head enough to look at him. To look at all of him. His breaths are heavy, just like hers, his dick is still hard in his boxer briefs and man sure does have some self control.

"Hey," he whispers.

She hums, marvels in the way his hand reaches out to drag along her bare side. "You, El."

He groans, nods his head, almost falls off the bed kicking his briefs off. It makes her smile, and would have made her laugh if she had the energy to.

But the man is solid, everywhere. His dick is perfect, fits the physique of him perfectly and she's pretty sure she can see it throbbing. He looks heavy and even a little bit discolored and seriously, poor man.

And when his palm grabs hold of his base, she moans at not only the sight of it but at the sound that comes out of his mouth. He needs to come. They didn't really discuss where he could come but she thinks she can gather enough energy to let him know. So as soon as his hand starts to slowly pump, she says, "On me. You can come on me, if you want."

Her eyes are connected to the movement of his hand along himself but she looks up for just a second to ensure that he hears her and the look of want, the look of arousal on his face makes her clench again. There is absolutely no way she can handle anything right now without a little bit of shut eye but she thinks she can make it better for him. So she uses the little bit of energy she has, slides her fingers in between her thighs, gathers a good amount of her slickness and lifts her own hand to him.

"Liv," he growls almost desperately as his hand clings to hers. He doesn't mean to, evident by the way he almost instantly releases his grip on her. The last thing Elliot wants to do is take advantage of her but she needs him to know, he's not, he'll never take advantage of her. Because whatever he wants, she wants as well.

"It's okay, El. I want to help. What do you need?" She doesn't need to clarify to him that she's currently out of commission, he already knows that. But she can help, in different ways. And when his eyes drag down to her breasts once more, she smiles, whispers, "Come here. Touch me." Although her body is still tingling, she can handle his hands on her.

He groans again, turns his body back towards her, scoots close enough that he can connect his lips back to hers. Her hand is still enclosed in his around his dick and when she pumps her hand, he pumps with her. He feels perfect in her hand and it makes her once again clench for him. She cannot wait to have him inside of her. Soon.

He's slick from the arousal she gathered but he can be more slick. His tongue is running along the roof of her mouth, he's pushing groans into her throat and she doesn't want to pull away from him to ask. So she once more takes it upon herself to use her freehand to slide between her folds and gather what she thinks is enough wetness to lube him up even more. He's grateful. She can hear it in the growl that releases onto her tongue, can feel it in the way his dick just twitched and when she feels like he's there, she draws his dick closer to her abdomen, pulls her lips from his and says, "Let go, Elliot."

And he does. God, he fucking does. It's the most magnificent thing she has ever seen and when her name tears from his lips on a groan she whimpers. That is by far the best sound. His seed is hot on her stomach and it too gives her a sense of calmness.

She's spent, she's pretty sure he's spent and when he leans in to kiss her once more, she mumbles, "Thank you." For giving her everything.

"Don't ever thank me for that. I'll always be happy to take care of you. To fully take care of you."

She hums again, lets her eyes close, sinks herself further into her pillow, smiles at the gentle kiss on her cheek, feels him pull the blanket up and over her, and hears him say lowly, "Sleep, Liv."

"Mhmm, sleep with me." Because she's not finished with him. And he's definitely going to need his energy when she wakes up.