"Hey there! Oh my gosh I got so excited when I saw this. I'm a sucker for fluff. Can you do a Bensler fluffy fic where for some reason Olivia has to get dressed up (it might be an office Christmas party or they're going undercover) and she looks sexy, gorgeous, and beautiful and Elliot's just staring at her breathless because he's truly captivated by how sexy/gorgeous/beautiful/stunning she looks? And Elliot compliments Olivia and she's truly taken aback by it but also melting inside. And then somehow, they end up making out at the end of the night. Or you know... something along those lines."
CharminglyEvil
So, this was actually the second ever prompted work that I had started, but I didn't get around to actually finishing before now (the 8th one) because I had such a long plan for the one-shot that laziness got the better of me. But here it is! I don't feel as if I've properly captured the swinging community, but I stayed true to the episode and portrayed them the way that the show did (brazen, up front, a little creepy, into everything). So... ope. Tis life.
If you didn't see in the summary, THIS WILL BE TWO CHAPTERS. Please don't be disappointed because there isn't smut in this one.
Anyway, I really hope you like the tension (and awkwardness) between them... Have fun reading!
Cherry St Parking Garage, 9:55 PM
As Elliot carefully pulled into the dormant garage, he realized that he was almost 20 minutes early for their arranged time for the pickup. He shrugged it off, though, figuring that he'd rather be early than late.
Bored, he sat in silence. His fingers twiddled with the tie, rotating it so the dimmed lighting would better illuminate its rich color, before he finally decided to ditch it. After all, this wasn't exactly a formal event. Still, though, his appearance wasn't quite perfected yet. It didn't usually bother him much, at least not enough to change his old habits, but his chest ached with the mere thought of embarrassing himself. Needlessly, his shirt varied greatly in the number of buttoned buttons in the next few minutes as the hardened detective inwardly scolded himself for his childish behavior.
Like his tie, which was now haphazardly discarded in the backseat, Elliot nervously fidgeted with his ring. This one was gold with engraved leaves that partially diminished the shine of the small object, but it was beautiful, nonetheless. Or maybe it was just the stark difference from his real ring, a plain silver one that felt more like a shackle than a small piece of jewelry. The gold shine of this new one excited him in a way that he couldn't quite understand. It was different, foreign, dangerous. It was freedom. It was the microscopic kernel that perpetually screamed in the back of his mind, desperate to pursue to life – and the woman – that he truly wanted. If he really let his mind wander, he could almost imagine that this would be the one he'd wear if...
No. He couldn't let himself pursue this thought. Not now, at least. He had a job to do, a mission to accomplish. The murky facts of the case file swam through his head, dodging the focused streams of fantasy that invaded his rational mind. Soon, this distractor was abandoned, deemed worthless.
The car door opened quickly as the anxious man stepped out before he could further confuse himself, attempting to flood his brain with a pseudo-confidence that would hopefully mask his fluttering stomach. The black sports jacket lightly ruffled in the breeze as his chest slowly expanded. Gathering suave was like capturing the whole ocean in a single bucket, but even he could admit that he was just as excited as he was nervous. Elliot tugged at the bottom of his jacket, aligning it perfectly, and approached the exit that led to the street where Olivia lived.
When he finally came face to face with the door of 4C, he froze, out of breath. The stairs up to her floor were long and arduous, but Elliot didn't regret taking them. It was the only way to burn off this energy, this adrenaline, before he was forced to confront the beautiful woman that made his knees shake even in a modest blazer. But she surely wouldn't be dressed modestly tonight. Brief flashes of all the mouth-watering possibilities flickered through his brain before he admonished himself for his own mental indulgence.
A small clatter from her neighbor's apartment instantly grounded him back in reality. The hideous bronze doorknob contrasted the green-painted metal and daunted Elliot with its ugly boldness as he still found himself completely frozen. Unable to move, he was paralyzed with nerves. Eventually, though, he managed to snap out of it. He was Detective Elliot Stabler, after all, not some nervous seventh grader about to ask out the prettiest girl in school.
Or was he? Just looking at her thighs, imagining them wrapped around him, made his pants tighter than he had ever thought possible. She was a drug, and an addicting one at that. But even though Olivia was certainly gorgeous in every sense of the word, there was something else that made his heart leap when she walked in the room. Maybe it was her intellect, or possibly her humor. The way she shut down the most despicable suspects without ever succumbing to violence like he often did. She was... everything.
Elliot realized that he was stalling the inevitable. He'd have to face Olivia, and the possibility of embarrassment, sooner rather than later and it was better to take control of the situation before it took control of him.
Still, he stood there for another five minutes before finally having the nerve to rap his knuckles against the metal door.
Olivia's Apartment, 9:55 PM.
Olivia struggled to zip herself up in her dress, an endeavor only more complicated by the tightness of the garment, and eventually abandoned the effort in favor of adding the finishing touches to her makeup. Light bounced off her artificially shiny lips as she smiled, pleased with her painstaking efforts. Although the undercover operation at the swing club was the official reason behind the getup, part of the sexually frustrated detective was appreciative of the chance to show off her beauty. Especially since there was a guilty hope that a special someone would take notice.
Her relationship with Elliot was like a coal mine or a propane tank, in that it had undeniable potential to be filled with flames and fiery passion if only one of them would take the initiative to light the dangerous spark. How she wished for the courage to cross that line…
Stopping this dangerous train of thought – Olivia didn't have the burden of guilt that Elliot did but still wanted to wait so she could blame her inevitable arousal on the club instead of her own filthy imagination – her bare feet padded across the bathroom tile as she exited her bathroom with an intense feeling of anticipation. The excitement of the arrest, of that wonderful undercover adrenaline rush, and the sexual tension that will be sure to unbearable given the intense setting was already causing her heart rate to rise.
The small hoop earrings soon accented the golden-brown streaks in the dress, but she was careful not to disturb her carefully arranged hair in the process. The thick curls framed her face, starkly different from her straight hairstyle she had kept the previous week, and gently tickled her bare collarbone when they brushed past.
Despite her confidence – Olivia was a beautiful woman, and she knew it – there was a keen sense of vulnerability and exposure that naturally accompanied an outfit and an event like this. She was putting herself out there, physically and emotionally, and could only hope that this night lived up to her expectations. What those were, exactly, she didn't know. Elliot's marriage had been on the rocks for a long time now, Fin recently mentioned that the "choir boy" no longer wore his wedding ring, but she still felt ashamed to wish for... things. "Things" was a broad category, but only because Olivia flatly refused to indulge in her own fantasies. There was simply too much respect for his marriage with Kathy, or what was left of it, to be any sort of mistress.
A low-pitched sound resonated through the apartment, snapping her out of her contemplation, and a burst of adrenaline spread through her chest as she immediately knew it was Elliot knocking on her door. Another pang of nervousness made her chest flush, but she simply took a deep breath and approached the door on wobbly legs.
It opened with a comically loud creak but both of them were already too far gone to notice.
Elliot was awestruck. He thought he was paralyzed with nerves before, but that didn't even compare. The soft light of the apartment behind her gave her a glowing appearance as his eyes could only move vertically, drifting from her face to her curves and back up again. The dress was exemplary, it hugged each curve closely and made no attempt to conceal her breasts but somehow managed to give off a sense of class. Too busy inspecting the exposed legs of the quintessential goddess that stood before him, the distracted man didn't take too much time to think about the paradox. The black pants that were chosen specifically for their comfortability were suddenly much too tight.
"You look..." he floundered for the right word, finding that he was unable to form coherent sentences at the moment, "very good."
You look very good? Good!? Is that what I really said? God, she looks fucking fantastic... Did I just have a stroke?
For some reason, Olivia felt as if "very good" was the highest form of compliment. After all, it only meant that she had reduced his mind to a puddle. She scolded herself for the spike of vanity but blushed from the warmth that spread from her chest to her... other areas.
"Thanks," she choked out.
She couldn't stop staring at Elliot. His casual clothes sent shivers down her spine and she couldn't wait to move closer and smell the cologne she knew he always wore for undercover operations like this. Her brown orbs greedily settled on his blue ones as she watched them move up and down her body. Pride bubbled up in her chest, but she tried to suppress the smile with mixed success. Still, there would be a certain air of confidence wherever she went tonight.
The door opened wider as she gestured for him to enter.
The altar boy in him hoped that she'd step out of her apartment, fully ready, and they could head to the Swing Set immediately. They were already crossing into dangerous territories with their outfits and ogling alone, not to mention the nature and the theater of the mission that would soon follow. As his dress shoes tapped against the tile entrance, he desperately wished for the self-control to not let his more instinctual desires take over before they even began their assigned task. Thoughts of taking her right here and now were pushed down forcefully and with great difficulty, but flickers of all the possible surfaces they could use was immediately flashed through his mind as he took inventory of the familiar apartment.
The second paradox of the night arose, wherein Elliot's respect for her both fueled and limited his aching to satisfy her every need. Emotionally and, if she'd let him, sexually.
But alas, their friendship was far too important to sacrifice for the sake of a few moments of pleasure. They grounded each other in reality and their bond anchored them during the best and the worst times of their life. As much as he admired her beauty, he couldn't deny that both the platonic and sexual attraction ran much, much deeper than that. Although Elliot would be the first to admit that their relationship had been tested, both by their own actions and the incessant gossip of others, it was the binding force of his sanity and not something that he could easily risk.
Guiltily, Olivia couldn't help but watch Elliot flounder in his uncertainty. It wasn't too obvious, she'd admit, but being partners with the same man for over a decade unlocked some perception abilities that others just didn't have. She could almost see the gears turning in his mind but wasn't quite self-aware enough to know that she was the reason for his awkward movements.
"Are you almost ready?" His tone was anxious but polite enough to remain pleasant.
"Almost." She plopped down on the couch with a soft woosh. "Let me just put on my shoes first."
Her breasts almost fell out of their barely existent confines when Olivia bent over to slip on her running shoes, and Elliot barely won the fight to look away. Her mesmerizing qualities, both physically and mentally, made it hard to sacrifice this opportunity to steal a glance at her cleavage, but he restrained. His ineffable respect for her almost warranted a complete turn-around-and-face-the-wall type of reaction, but he knew that he'd have to come to some sort of comfort level if they were to be successful tonight.
He chuckled curiously, trying to mask his attraction but also genuinely wondering what she was doing. "Sneakers?"
"Not a chance in hell I'm risking my ankles by walking down the soaked steps of a 1960's-built New York apartment building at night. No way." Olivia looked up at Elliot for only a moment and was pleased to notice the smile that she only had the pleasure of seeing. "I'll put them on in the car before we get there. Besides, these things hurt like hell and I don't want to wear them for a second longer than I have to."
Her upper body shifted with her movements to tie the last shoe and Elliot instinctively looked before impulsively speaking to distract himself from the intense feelings that were emanating from his midsection. "You know you don't have to wear them if you don't want to, right?"
Of course she knew. Olivia Benson was not the type of woman to do anything she didn't want to without a fight, so Elliot sure well knew that this was torture of her own doing. The overwhelming need for a distraction from her body required playful banter, however, and Elliot obliged.
She paused to think of how to best phrase her immediate attraction to this pair specifically. "I don't have too many pairs and none of them match my dress."
None of them make my legs look the way they do right now.
Pushing the prideful thought out of her mind, but still relishing in the effect that she had on him, Olivia rose and cautiously decided to play just one more game before they'd have to start the undercover task. Before they'd go back to normal. She didn't want to compromise their relationship either, but an uncontrollable and guilty part of her needed this verification of his awe. Besides, she really did need his help.
She turned, only enough so that he could see the unzipped back of her dress. "Zip me up?"
It took more than a few moments for the request to fully register and for Elliot to draw the required amount of composure needed to craft semi-intelligible sentences. "Oh, uh… yeah."
Navigating in the dark-yellow lighting of the apartment wasn't too difficult, especially because the decorative crystal light on the coffee table provided extra light, but Elliot found himself taking inventory of every limb and nerve as he took extra cautions in all of his slow movements. Olivia's back tingled with anticipation as he made his way behind way behind her, and she must admit that most of the guilt of playing these games was beginning to wear off as she reaped the benefits.
His fingers made contact with the suede cloth – well, he didn't quite know what it was, but it felt both firm and soft – and he lightly held the tip of the zipper for a moment before succumbing to impulse and trailing his fingers down the black metal. The knuckle of his pointer finger made contact with her warm skin and Olivia felt tingles course through her spine; her lungs filled with seemingly oxygen-less air as the contact trailed lower down her body. When his two fingers reached the crux, he used one hand to hold the two halves in place at the top for stability while his other hand grasped the handle of the zipper. Just as slowly as before, the two halves of her dress joined together, rather tightly, and Olivia finally managed to exhale when the contact ceased.
And to think that Olivia had thought that she was the one playing games…
Elliot recognized his overreach and quickly stepped back as if nothing had happened between them. As if nothing had changed. Brown locks gently swayed as Olivia shook her head ever so slightly to rid herself of the remaining emotions – and physical sensations – while she tried to reset.
The shine of her dull kitchen light reflected off his watch as he checked it. Luckily, they still had plenty of time to spare. "Are you ready?"
Her cheap temporary footwear padded against the hardwood floors on their way to the front door after snagging the black clutch from the couch. "Yeah."
He wanted to compliment her again, or at the very least help her into the black trench coat as he had many times before, but he feared any further crossing of their delicately maintained and fragile boundaries. Still, he had to bite his tongue to hold back a comment on her efforts – a platonic one, actually – and restrained himself to his current position as she donned the coat herself.
Elliot's Car, 10:27 PM.
When finally approached the car – the walk actually wasn't too awkward, but the silence certainly didn't help them get back into their usual groove – Elliot quickened his pace over the last meter or so to reach the passenger door and open it before Olivia would have time to refute the gesture.
She did dramatically roll her eyes as she lowered herself into the car, but Elliot could tell that some part of her deeply appreciated the thoughtfulness of his actions. He made this a habit over the last year or so, actually, starting with distracted and seemingly automatic moves – he actually put great thought into calculating these gestures – to make things seem more comfortably casual for Olivia and working his way up until it was a habit of hers, too. As much as it made his blood boil to think about any other man touching her – he tried not to be too jealous, after all, he felt bad for wanting to restrict her love life while being too cowardly to make his own moves – he wanted her to automatically expect any future boyfriends to treat her similarly.
As Elliot started the car up, Olivia tapped her nails against the back of her left wrist and tried her best to think of something to say. Conversation had always come naturally to them, talking to El was like second nature even during their first year as partners. They had an inherent understanding. But something about the nature of their work tonight was disruptive to the natural progression of their fun antics. If there was one topic that could throw a wrench into their confident demeanors, it was surely the certain but unacknowledged romantic and sexual tension that was brewing between them. Instead of a lively debate on the merits of John's conspiracies or which cereal was the best, they sat in relative silence save for the ambient noises of New York as they drove by.
While Olivia contemplated the solution to the silence that ruled this Crown Vic, Elliot was busy trying to limit his periphery so he didn't focus on the occasional movement – he thought that using the word "jiggle" was immature – of Olivia's semi-exposed chest as they hit the barrage of potholes that continued to plague New York despite the increase in taxes. It was a temptation that was rather hard to resist though, and it soon became impossible when Olivia took this time to lean down and replace her casual shoes with leopard print heels.
She never wore these ones, they reminded her of something a soccer-mom cougar would wear, but their over-the-top sexuality was perfect for this very occasion. The clumsy maneuvering caught the eye of Elliot, but Olivia pretended not to notice his subtle – she knew he was trying to be respectful but couldn't blame him for looking – stares at her breasts and legs. After the heels were donned and she settled in her seat again, the lust and the pride that filled their minds were replaced once more with awkward conversation starters and potential ways to steer them back into their natural interactions.
Elliot decided to break the silence as if ignoring its power would negate its effects. "We still have another 15 minutes until we get there. Do you want to go over our cover story?"
She sat up in her seat, immediately more alert and in her comfort zone now that the topic of work had come up. "Yeah, sure."
Since the traffic had come to a stop-and-go speed, too slow to keep his interest solely on the road but too fast to be safely fully distracted, Elliot expertly maneuvered his arm to grasp the file in the backseat and handed it to her.
"Alright let's see..." The ruffling of papers filled the otherwise silent car for a while as Olivia reread the file for the zillionth time. "Do you want me to read it out to you or should I quiz you?"
Relief flooded his chest as he realized that this would be the turning point where they would get back into their playful groove. "Give it your best."
Olivia, equally willing to retreat to her comfort zone, matched his energy with a smile and tried to ask the hardest question she could from the information they provided. "When did we first get the idea that we might be into swinging?"
"On our honeymoon."
"Which was..."
"In Cancun. 1999. We were already into bondage, but we met a couple who was into this whole scene and things just escalated from there."
Her smile widened. "Yeah, alright. You memorized things from the packet. But what the hell is little good Elliot Stabler going to do when they ask you about the real stuff? And where the hell did you get 1999?"
"It wasn't in the file, but I thought it would be unrealistic to pause if anyone asks us how long we've been married." Elliot wanted to divert away from the sensitive subject like a coward, again. Especially since that year was the first year they had started working together. "But more importantly... you don't believe in the power of my improv skills?"
Her retort was instant, but perhaps she should have thought it through. "I believe that lies have to have some grain of truth."
At a loss for a quick retort, he stayed silent. She was right, of course. Kathy had never been much into anything other than just above hole-in-the-sheet sex, except oral sex on her, so he would be the first to admit his inexperience. Still, neither one of them knew how to respond.
Elliot took on the role of icebreaker again, glad to steer the conversation in a safer direction. "Alright, Benson. Try me."
Olivia hummed in thought. "What's your favorite position?"
"Doggystyle." He decided to add one more detail to hint that he was lying and speaking as his undercover persona. "With a collar."
A pang of heat hit her as the low tone of his voice and his equally attractive words were processed. Little did he know, the woman sitting next to him frequently enjoyed a fantasy just like it...
"Wow, okay," she quietly.
On the off chance that Elliot had noticed the sudden flush of his partner's chest, he didn't say anything as he responded with confidence. "Oh, that was easy, Benson."
Her grin widened when the thought of a new challenge came to mind. "What was your first time swinging like?"
"Amazing. We were inexperienced but we had a great time, especially after one of the hostesses joined in." He comically winked at her and was immediately pleased with his ability to draw out a chuckle.
Although, on second thought, her chuckle might not have been his doing as the glint of mischief shone in her eyes. "Tonight is supposed to be our first time, dumbass."
The steering wheel jolted a little bit when his palm came down on it theatrically. "Damn!"
Her attitude sobered as he went back into experienced detective mode. "Even then, you're still being too vague." She turned to look at him so he'd better internalize her next piece of honest advice. "I've been around scenes like this before, El. They aren't going to be expecting cops, so they won't be paranoid, but you are going to need to be more specific if you really want to make friends there."
Silence. She had been to clubs like this? It probably wasn't an undercover mission or else he'd have remembered it, but she was too much of a rooky to be involved in something like that before her time at SVU anyway. This led him to the natural conclusion that when she pursued these... pleasures, she did so in her free time and voluntarily. He felt his pants tighten once more.
Elliot raised the pitch of his voice ever so slightly so that Olivia would know that his inquiry was out of curiosity – and a guilty desire to subtly learn more about this specific set of interests – rather than a statement of judgement. "You know swingers?"
For some reason, a strange and inexplicable one that caused the tiniest bit of irony of her uncomfortableness talking about her personal sex life, Olivia wasn't always comfortable sharing this type of information with El. She never hid dates from him, and even made jokes when they went especially well, but something about her own kinks required hiding. It wasn't necessarily shame, that certainly wasn't a problem for a woman who took control of her sexuality and rightly refused to apologize, but part of her was worried that Elliot wouldn't understand. After all, his Catholic upbringing had seeped into his perspectives on multiple other conversations before, even though this fear was almost irrational given that they were sex detectives and that he was well informed. Before she could further contemplate the meaning of her secrecy, and the possible benefits of gauging his reaction, his apology rang out.
"Forget I asked, Liv."
"No, it's okay."
Despite her genuine assurance, Olivia still focused on the slow-moving objects in the nighttime outside.
Elliot decided to take her silence as an advantage to redirect and play the "safe" quiz game again. "What are your sexual preferences?" Almost at once, he realized that Olivia didn't understand his thought process behind asking such a question, especially since he already knew the real answer. "In the file..."
"Oh, yeah..." Olivia took only a moment to recall the information. "I'm straight, but I don't mind playing with a woman if it gets my husband off."
Luckily, Elliot had elected not to internalize her response for the sake of his tightening pants. Instead, he just blankly shook his head and tried not to focus on the imagery that was beginning to invade the more primal parts of his traitorous brain. Although, one word did stand out. They were, after all, masquerading as husband and wife... there was something about that... something he forgot...
The two suddenly very heavy in his pocket. He had meant to give them to her stairs but must have forgotten in the midst of... well, everything.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Here." Delicately, carefully, he took her left hand in his as he gently slipped on the wedding ring followed by the ornate diamond that topped the engagement ring. The movement was fast enough for him to not have the time to second-guess his irrational decision but slow enough to savor the moment and let his mind play pretend if only for a few seconds. Both hands slightly shook with nerves, almost imperceptibly, and both partners were filled with a keen sense of uncertainty about the intimacy of the action but neither of them could bear to stop it.
Many moments passed before either of them made a move, but when they separated, both dearly missed the distinct warmth of the other's touch. Not that they'd ever say that out loud, though.
"Thanks." She whispered it, looking down at her quivering hand. Her eyes soon met the window instead so Elliot wouldn't be able to read her emotions.
Part of her was filled with the adrenaline rush of a fantasy come true, but the other half only swam in sorrow. Sure, this was a moment straight out of a suppressed desire for another life – one where she didn't have to go home to an empty apartment and an empty womb – but it wasn't real. This time tomorrow they'd struggle to pretend as if all these hesitant looks and sexual tension never shook the foundations of their relationship. Apparently, whatever gods that be were cruel enough to give her these hopes only to yank them away with a harsh dose of reality. He had Kathy, he had kids. All she had was the fond memory of him slipping a ring on her finger, and even that would be corrupted by the pain that she'd feel when their dollhouse pretending was over.
"Happy anniversary, Liv," he joked, in an effort to diffuse the sudden tension that rocked his old Crown Vic. It wasn't malevolent, certainly, but he couldn't quite gauge her reaction to his unexpected display of affection. Or maybe she didn't think twice about it and he was the one overthinking it? Once again, he was asking questions that he didn't have the answer to.
The car jolted forward, now freed from the oppressive snail's pace of the traffic on the main roads as they descended into the darker part of town.
Despite her intense concentration on her own uncertainties and hopes, Elliot's voice managed to shock her out of her contemplation at once.
"We're here."
Notes at the end: Next chapter will take place at the Swing Set! Ahhhh! It's gonna be so much fun! I already wrote just over 1k words for that one, but its going to be really long which is why I broke it up into two chapters.