A/N: This story is coming to a close. I have loved writing every word of it. I can't thank you enough for reading it and giving me such encouraging feedback. There will be three more chapters after this one and then I have some other plans which will be discussed in a more detailed author's note at a later point. This chapter is still rated M!
Songs: Hunger by Ross Copperman, Give me Tonight by Dustin Tebbutt, and Set for Life by Trent Dabbs.
Chapter 27- Olivia
Friday November 10th, 2006
"Good morning," he said as he watched her with heavily lidded eyes. He was sitting at his desk, like he did every morning, but she found it hard to look at him when she could still feel the ache of him between her legs.
She stirred her mug as she fought for composure. His stare was intense, and she felt as naked as she had been in the shower, only this time all their co-workers stood around them.
"Hey," she responded curtly, apprehensive, questioning; they hadn't spoken, not since the shower.
Furious.
And then he'd left, his hands abandoning her skin, his eyes angry that she'd made them stoop to such a level.
Yes. You are.
She hadn't known what she had been thinking. The sex was raw, uninhibited, and unrecoverable. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to look at him again. Clearly, he wasn't having the same problem because his eyes were burning her.
"I'm on hold," he mocked, the telephone perched on his conniving lips. Fuck him. He was enjoying making her squirm. She'd given him permission to fuck her body, but she hadn't given him the right to mess with her mind like this.
She'd watched his retreating backside, as he left her standing in the shower stall. He didn't call, he didn't show up at her door. She fell asleep feeling satiated but nervous. She'd likely made him hate her, made him see her as some immoral vulture who lured men into lapsing out of their right minds. She'd told him to fuck her, and he'd listened, but that didn't mean that she hadn't expected him to call, wanted him to call.
To talk. About it.
She thought that he'd want an explanation out of her. She thought he'd question her on how they were supposed to salvage their partnership after that. She assumed he'd be the first to cave, calling her, begging for an explanation on her rash and impulsive behavior, but he was calling her bluff instead, toying with the phone and letting her know that if she wanted to discuss what she'd made him do, then she'd have to make the first move.
He roamed his eyes over her, watching her carefully, watching her like he had staked his claim on her. Prick. Then the soreness between her legs reminded her that he had in fact, claimed her. Being with him had been unlike anything she'd experienced with anyone else. She wasn't a stranger to rough sex, but she'd never felt consumed on so many levels before. She wished she could go back, take it back, because the knowledge, the knowing, that he had ruined her for anyone else was making her tea churn in her stomach. All consuming. And she'd done everything in her power to make sure the encounter was rough, removed, detached. How could it have been? How could it have been casual when he'd cried on her body, slept in her bed, sunk his hold into every corner of her world? What had she done?
"Did you find anything surprising about our victim?" she asked, aware that she'd already know the answer to that question if she'd asked him that yesterday when she was supposed to, instead of doing what she'd done instead. What they'd done.
"You know, I was surprised to find out about Valerie's boyfriend that she forgot to tell us about," he said in a cocky tone that made her irritated. He was still trying to assert his dominance on the case. Then whoever was on the other line started talking to him. She watched him speak, thinking about how she had no idea where to go from here. She felt burned. Burned by her partner; by his touch, by his avoidance, by his callousness. He seemed entirely unaffected, and it was hurting her in a way she would never admit to him. Not only was he unaffected, he seemed amused, like she was a joke that he was laughing at.
You're not a quick fuck against some lockers or a doorway, Olivia. His words from that night after Gitano rang in her ears. Maybe she was.
Cragen broke her self-destructive train of thought by informing them that Valerie Sennett had just been attacked.
Saturday November 11th, 2006 / 4:40 a.m.
The case was sitting beside her as she perched on his doorstep, like a dark passenger. Valerie Sennett's screams were still filling her ears, the way everything had unfolded was still burning at her eyes.
When you said he was escalating, you were right.
Do you think that's what I want to hear? He set her on fire, Elliot.
They'd stood together at the burn unit while they listened to her dying. They pulled the scrubs from their bodies and then slipped into the night, separate. She returned to the station house to finish the paperwork on the case, and he disappeared to God knows where. He hadn't said a word to her. Neither of them had the energy to discuss their own predicament after a case ending like that. She was almost thankful that he disappeared without another word to her.
She'd gone home after realizing Valerie lied to her about Miles raping her. She'd showered the case away. She'd tried to sleep, but her eyelids wouldn't give in. She needed to speak to him. She needed to make sure she still could.
The case had been hard, for both of them, and as much as she needed to know he was okay for herself, her need to make sure he wasn't self-destructing was what landed her on the subway to Queens in the early hours between night and the next day.
Her fingers trembled as she hit send on the text she'd been planning the entire subway trip.
Meet me downstairs- Liv.
She'd brought him coffee because that was what they did. Anytime there was a close call against the line of defenses, the curated boundaries, the arsenal of denials- a coffee followed. An acknowledgment of a misstep and a return to business as usual, except this time she knew that all the coffee in the city wouldn't make them return to who they used to be.
You like when I fuck you, Olivia?
She held her phone in her hand, rocking her knees, knowing he could be asleep but sensing that he wasn't. She prayed he wouldn't let her sit alone like a fool on his stoop. She hoped that he knew this was her saying she needed to talk. She needed to talk about the case, she needed to talk about their fight, she needed to talk about it.
Like I said, it was just casual. The investigator's words about his relationship with Valerie Sennett were haunting her. It was just casual.
Is that what Elliot would tell her about what they had done? She'd insinuated that's what she'd wanted from him- a quick, hard, and semi-public fuck. Would he utter the word casual and in the next breath tell her he wasn't ever signing his divorce papers because he was going back to his wife? She had to know.
When she was almost ready to call it quits and return to her lonely existence on the other side of the city, she heard the door pull on its hinges behind her. He stepped out and lowered his body to a sitting position next to her. As soon as the scent of his aftershave and skin entered her space, the presence of the case instantly dissipated, becoming slightly more bearable.
"Is that a flower in your cup?" he asked after he thanked her for the coffee she had brought him.
"It's tea."
"You're serious about that, aren't you?" She gave a silent nod as she thought about how he'd brought her tea after spending the night in her bed. He'd used his key to return to her apartment, tea in hand, after he had locked it, so she was safe while she showered her morning run away. That morning had felt like centuries ago, not last weekend. He must have assumed that after a week she'd have reverted back to coffee like she typically did.
"I couldn't sleep."
"Me neither."
"Valerie Sennet wasn't raped. She was sleeping with a law firm investigator. She really put her husband through the wringer."
"She died 20 minutes ago," he commented.
"She knew that she was gonna die, and she still lied to my face," she said, feeling strange discussing the case when they had so many other topics bubbling below the surface of their casual song and dance. They were talking like he'd never gripped her hips and thrust the most intimate parts of their bodies together. She felt sick at the realization that the denial came so natural and easy to both of them. Maybe they could go on as if it had never happened? He'd go back to Kathy, and at the next policeman's ball, she'd smile at his wife. She'd pretend that Kathy's husband had never been inside of her. It would all be fine; the ache would go away and the forgetting would be child's play.
"When love warps into hate, there's nothing you won't do. That's why I signed the divorce papers. I don't want Kathy to ever regret me," he said, and the words titled her axis. That's why I signed the divorce papers. He'd signed the papers? When? Her nerves were wired, her blood rushing. Her conversation with Kathy flashed through her mind, and she considered her response to the bombshell. She kept her voice even as she said,
"That's a step in the right direction, Elliot," her words felt misplaced, but she wasn't sure what else to say. Did you sign them before you fucked me in the shower or after? He didn't respond. She knew that he was waiting for her to approach the real reason why she'd showed up at his apartment at such an hour.
"So are we okay?"
"I... I just... need space to disagree with you so that I don't feel like it's gonna cost me our partnership."
"You've never been gun shy before."
"Yeah, well, you know, I mean, things change," he said as his eyes flicked to her cup of tea. Oregon, Dani Beck, the key, the shower. It had all changed. She feared they'd never agree again, never agree on how to move forward, how to repair, how to either face it or ignore it.
She sighed as she took the plunge, the closest she'd come to admitting why she'd come.
"Like you said, you're the longest relationship that I've ever had with a man. Who else would put up with me?" Was it just casual? Am I worth the struggle of putting up with? Am I worth it? Was it worth it? Have I ruined everything? She ignored her burning thoughts with a pointed sip of her tea as she tilted her head in his direction, letting her knee fall towards him, hoping he wouldn't crush her by saying they never should have done it.
She couldn't handle the grueling pause of waiting for him to answer her silent questions- her real reasons for coming. She wanted to give him the choice to decide if they were going to confront this, but then she took it back by stealing the space that any confessions could have occupied by saying,
"You hungry?"
"I could go for a bite. Who's buying?" He said as his eyes softened. He looked at her like he'd expected her to retreat from the cliff she had walked them to. She hated how well he knew her. She hated that he was letting her off easy by giving into her deflection tactics. Neither of them were the least bit hungry.
"Well, you are going through a divorce and you do have four children, so I guess you are," she teased, testing out the waters of their banter, fearing their fight wasn't distant enough to be light with each other, fearing that the bruises on their bodies hadn't healed enough to poke fun.
"That's what I thought," he grinned as he shook his head lightly at her. She felt for a moment that she had him back. It wasn't the smile of her angry partner or the man who was rough with her in the showers. It was the thin and knowing smile of the man she considered her closest friend. She missed her friend.
Saturday November 11th, 2006 / 5:00 a.m.
"Where do you want to go?" he asked as he went to his living room to grab his car keys off the coffee table. She was lingering in the space between his doorway and couch, watching as he slipped the keys into the oversized hoodie that had lived under her bed for the months she'd been in Oregon. He still had t-shirts under her bed, and some nights she thought about pulling one on but always decided that was a line better left uncrossed. She didn't want to be accustomed to something that he could take back at any time. When she didn't respond to his question, he turned to face her with a questioning look on his face. "You alright?" he asked as he moved his eyes over her, sensing the change and checking her in the same way she always checked on him.
"You don't want to talk about it?" she asked in a small voice, darting her eyes to the far wall. He'd stood from his doorstep to get his keys, not saying anything more about how things had changed between them. She was starting to feel delusional, as if she'd imagined everything that had transpired between them in the showers. She watched his Adam's apple bob as he processed her question.
"Liv…" he started as he pulled his hands from his hoodie and held them up in resignation. She cut him off before he could destroy her.
"Forget it, we don't need to talk about it. Let's just get some breakfast, alright," she swallowed, desperate to return to the glimpse of peace they'd found on his apartment building doorstep.
"If you want to talk about it, then let's talk about it," he said, his friendly tone evaporating and being replaced with the tone he'd taken with her all of the Sennett case. He dropped his keys back on the coffee table and paced towards her.
"No, I only wanted to know if you wanted to. Since you don't, let's just drop it."
"I want to," he whispered, his irises as dark as the 5:00 a.m. skyline.
"Why didn't you say anything after?"
"I was mad at you, remember?" he said as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied her with his imposing eyes.
"Right," she sighed, not feeling like fighting again. He must have sensed she didn't have it in her because he instantly softened.
"What's wrong, Liv?" he asked, and she couldn't believe the audacity of his question. So much was wrong.
"Why did you sign the papers?"
"I told you...on the stoop, I don't want Kathy to regret me. I don't want you to regret me either."
"Was it because of what we did in the showers?" she asked in almost a whisper, just speaking the word showers made the reality of their actions come crashing in. His face flushed with an unidentifiable emotion, and then he seemed to be overcome with something. He ran a hand down the length of his face as his mouth hollowed in some sort of realization.
"Oh God Liv, I'm...I signed the papers before that happened. I signed them the day before, after our fight in the squad room. I didn't want you to hate me for delaying it any longer. That case was ripping us apart," he explained as she struggled to fit the timeline together. He'd signed the papers before she'd had the conversation with his wife, perhaps while she was having the conversation with his wife, who had begged her to do anything to get him to give in to the divorce he didn't seem to want. She'd done what she'd done in an effort to get him to sign, and until this moment she'd believed she'd been successful. "I always told you the papers would be signed first…" he added, his voice trailing in sadness.
"You didn't tell me."
"I'm an idiot," he rushed out as he tried to reach for her, but she turned away. She wasn't sure she was prepared for his touch again.
"It's fine."
"What we did…" he began, but she interrupted him.
"You only did what I told you to," she said as she swallowed tensely.
"I shouldn't have," he said, but she cut him off. Her worst fears confirmed in three little words. I shouldn't have.
"Let's just forget it," she looked away from him, trying to bottle up how damaged she was by his honesty. He regretted her. She'd shown up at his apartment, and he probably didn't want to speak to her. He needed time to grieve his marriage and figure out how to still be her partner after she'd turned him into something he wasn't. He deserved so much better than her. She headed towards his door to let herself out.
"That's not something I can easily forget, Liv," he said as he folded his tensed arms over his chest. His posture was guarded, but his voice held that mocking tone it had that morning while he was on hold. "Where do you think you're going?" he added, as he seemed to register that she was leaving.
"I'm leaving. I shouldn't have come."
"I thought you wanted to talk about it? We're getting breakfast. Come on, we need to talk about it."
"What's there to talk about? Like you said, we shouldn't have."
"That's not…" he said in cadence with three fast paces in her direction. She could sense him coming behind her, but she already had her hand on the door handle. "Will you turn around please?" he said, his voice coming out in a tight line of words hitting the back of her neck. She gave in and turned to face him as she let out a heavy exhale.
"We're fine, Elliot. There's nothing to talk about. I came here because I thought maybe there was, but clearly, we got it out of our systems, and now we can move on. Let's just get back to normal."
"Out of our systems?!" he questioned in an exasperated tone as his fingers gripped her forearm and forced her to turn around.
"Yeah Elliot, we finally... It happened, and now we can move past whatever the hell the mess is we've been in the last couple years."
"You're unbelievable," he said as he gritted his teeth, his fingertips still pressing into the flesh of her arm, the pressure seeping into her muscles.
"I'm trying to be reasonable. I don't expect you to make me feel better about this; it was my choice. I think it's better if we focus on work, focus on trying not to kill each other over cases," she rushed out, her heart hammering as her futile words surrounded her. She kept her eyes on the ground, feeling too nauseated to look him in the eyes.
"Olivia? Why are you shutting down?" he asked as he cornered her, trying to get her to look at him, but she continued to refuse him. She wanted to be far away from him. "What I meant to say before you cut me off was that I shouldn't have left you standing there afterwards, I should have called, should have taken you home and…" he trailed off as he reached for her face, forcing her to look up. She knew that as soon as their eyes met, her detached facade would come tumbling down. "Hey," he breathed out as he realized how much agony she was in. "You can't shut this out anymore, Liv," he said, and his words confused her.
"What are you talking about?" she shot back as she tried to turn her face out of his palm.
"You're so damn difficult," he spoke the words in a low and throaty laugh as his free hand caught her around the waist, she flinched at his unexpected touch. "I signed the papers before the showers, and like you said, it was a step in the right direction, a step towards you. That's why I signed them. You know that, right?" he asked as he searched her eyes and shook his head at how vastly she'd seemed to misunderstand him. She didn't know what she knew. Her head was spinning, and her body was responding to having his hands on her once more. "Come on, tell me you know that," he urged.
"I don't know, Elliot."
"You don't know what?" he asked as his fingers pressed into her waist.
"What are we doing?" she asked as she realized how real it was. He'd signed the papers. He'd signed them before the showers, and somehow that made her love him more. She didn't think it was possible to love a person more than she already loved him, but she was continuously proved wrong.
His marriage was dissolved, and he was standing with his ringless finger pressing into her body. She could reach out and take him, finally. He was hers for the taking. Yet, she still found her hands recoiling like he was a forbidden fruit.
"What was always going to happen," he said as he lowered his mouth to her collarbones, his tongue didn't hesitate in flicking out to taste her skin. His actions should have surprised her, but they didn't. It was as natural as her inclination to push him away.
"I tried so hard, El," tried so hard to prevent this from happening. She was speaking truths to him now, his nickname flowing from her lips in her final peace offering. He'd made her believe a short while ago that she was regrettable, and now his mouth was righting those wrongs.
"We both did, but it happens."
It's a personal rule, you don't fall in love with people you work with.
"What happened?" she whispered because she realized she needed to hear it. He'd been telling her for years, in their coded language, their layered stares, passing of morning coffee, staying late and using paperwork as an excuse, turning and running after her instead of Ryan. She'd been telling him in the same ways: a golden key with a blue ribbon, calling his kids so they'd come see him for his birthday, refusing to take a shot- knowing they could both die, but being with him on the other side was easier and then causing his death, having to live without him. There were so many ways in which they'd both lapsed on their best-kept secret over the years, but as she stood before him now, still feeling uneasy on what she meant to him, if the depths were mutual, she needed to hear him say it in no uncertain terms.
He inhaled, his need for oxygen corresponding with the tightening grasp on her waist. She knew that he was trying to hold onto her, knowing his next step could cause her to slip through his fingertips. His eyes implored her, his fear and his certainty mixing, as the essence of their long repressed truth expelled from his tight jaw.
"I fell in love with you," he dropped; the confession skipping like a stone on glassy lake water; rippling.
I fell in love with you,
I fell in love with you,
I fell in love with you.
The five forbidden words ricocheted around her. She couldn't hide. They were the words she so innately needed, but she didn't know how to receive them. She watched as he gulped, his eyes glazed with terror at her silence. Then in a low and harbored tone, which sent shivers down her spine, he added, "I'm in love with you."
I'm in love with you. He'd spoken the words and she could hardly believe it.
She'd been in love with him for so long, longer than she'd ever admit, but how could she tell him that? How could she own up to her greatest weakness when she'd spent her entire existence trying to be strong? He was the one thing she couldn't concur; control.
Both his hands came to cup the sides of her neck, as if he could read her mind, sense her doubt. He tried to reassure her, as his thumbs came to rest right below the small gold hoops of her earrings. His eyes jabbed at her, their early morning darkness making the backs of her knees feel unstable. She looked away from him.
"Liv?" he sighed as his thumb skated across her downcast mouth. "Look at me; tell me you heard what I said."
"We don't say these things, Elliot."
"You asked what happened, so I'm telling you the truth. I won't apologize for the truth."
"I didn't ask you to apologize."
"Then why do you seem upset?" he asked as one of his hands began to brush the bangs out of her avoiding eyes. His touches were airy and careful. She couldn't believe the touches were at the same hands of the man who had been with her in the precinct showers the day before. She opened her mouth to attempt a response, but he interjected. "Look, I know it wasn't supposed to happen, but Liv, it happened a long time ago. God, it might have happened the minute I met you, you know that right?" He asked, repeating his earlier phrase in a new tone of desperation that she'd never heard in his voice before.
"Don't say that."
"Why not? It's the damn truth. I saw you, and I wanted you in any way I could have you, always have. You know that if I wasn't married back then…"
"Don't say it."
"I would have, I would have done it all with you."
"Elliot," she sighed as all their what could have beens flashed through her mind and brazened her numb heart. He was hers now, but it would always be too late. He'd been picked at seventeen, and she'd never have him fully.
"But you have'ta know that you're my friend too, my best friend. You're so many things to me, Olivia," his accent was thick, his voice thrumming and reverberating against the walls around them.
"You're so many things to me too."
"Say it back," he commanded, and she hated that it was harder for her. He'd loved before, he loved his wife and his children, he knew how to do it, but she didn't have the first clue how to give love, how to receive low. How do you do something when you've never been taught, shown? She was afraid she was a hopeless case; she'd fail him with all she couldn't give him. But god, she wanted him to have it. She wanted to hand him the shovel and let him dig it all up, the parts of her soul that she'd long ago sworn she'd never bear to anyone.
"I fell in love with you too, and I hate myself for it," she admitted and a cry she wished she could ignore, followed. It rebelled from her chest cavity, wracking the space between them.
"Hey," he shook his head as he pulled her into an embrace, his chin resting on top of her head, her eyes now consumed by the neckline of his soft hoodie sweatshirt. "Why would you say that?"
"You weren't available to fall in love with," she admitted.
"I hate myself for a lot of things too, but this...this has never been one of those things, Liv," he murmured into her hair. She let his reassurances settle for a moment before she spoke again.
"I'm not sure when I knew. It wasn't immediately, but I trusted you, and that scared me. You gave me that green coffee mug," she added with a small sigh into his chest. The strings on his hoodie were tangling with her speaking lips as she pressed her face into him.
"You still have it?" he asked as his palms rested between her shoulder blades, holding her against him.
"I broke it, after you put that detail on me a few years later."
"I did that because I loved you."
"I know, I knew that, that's why I broke the mug," she said as she lifted her eyes to him. His lips tugged into a placid smile.
"You're so difficult," he sighed, but there was no malice in his tone.
"I had to be, so you wouldn't do anything you'd regret."
"I've never, and I will never regret you, Olivia. Will you please get that out of your head?" Before she could answer, he pulled her face into a kiss, his hands covering her ears and the entire sides of her face. He was holding her head firmly in place, so she knew that he was serious about his previous statement. His mouth forced hers to open to him, and she fell into the kiss because there was no other option; inevitable.
"We're going to do this my way this time," he said through a ragged exhale as he broke the kiss.
"And what's that exactly?" she asked as she was pulled further into his energy field. She felt her body course with relief that he was still the man she'd always known him to be. He'd made good on his promise that the papers would be signed, and she was relieved that this time she was going into it with the knowledge that the ink was dry. Her body also coursed with need, for him, the same need she'd been denying all the years she'd been in his encompassing presence. All encompassing.
"Slow, with your back to my mattress, in my bed. I'm going to take my time with you, and when I wake up in the morning, I expect that you will still be against me."
"Elliot…" she began as the magnitude of what they'd unearthed came crashing in around her. She had no out, no excuse, no denial, no defense.
"You think you can handle that?" he smirked as he undid the button on her jeans.
"I... Elliot, I'm not…"
"What's the problem, Olivia? Has no one ever made love to you?" he taunted, and his words made her uneasy. The notion of making love had always turned her off more than it had turned her on. She had grown accustomed to meaningless encounters that served nothing more than to remind her she was human. She used men as tools, and she viewed sex as a need she'd rather not have, something to tend to, but never something to overly indulge or enjoy. Quick and easy.
"Fuck you, Elliot," she seethed as he undid her zipper, his fingers pulling her white tank top loose from where it was tucked into her jeans. Fuck him, because even when she'd tried to make it simple, he'd gone and made her feel like it was so much more. She'd tried to convince herself that they could fuck and get it over with, that he'd be just as disappointing as all the rest, and he'd gone and shown her how impossibly wrong she was.
"Oh we've already done that, let me love you this time." he said as he finished undressing her bottom half and she complied by toeing off her shoes and socks. "I'm taking these off," he whispered to her, as he pushed off her jacket, his fingers then grasping on the hem of her cotton layers; quickly gliding them over her body and exposing her.
"What about breakfast?" she whimpered in a last-ditch effort, as her clothes fell from her body, decorating his doorway with the evidence that she wasn't leaving.
"We'll eat when we wake up tomorrow afternoon," he said with dark eyes, the implication clear, she'd be doing nothing else besides being at his mercy for the next several hours.
"What about work?"
"We'll figure it out," he growled as he spun her around, directing her towards his bedroom. She was clad in only her black lace bra and underwear, the bare skin of her abdomen brushing against the layers of his clothing. He walked her backwards towards the entrance of his bedroom; border lining on pushing her. She had to steady her breaths as she thought about how he was leading her to bed. She always did the directing, keeping everything in her control, dictating when and where, so being steered by him, her vision obstructed from where she was being moved, made her feel entirely out of control. He kicked his door in slightly, and then he dropped her on his bed, her back making contract with the softness of his navy bedspread. The room was dark, the only light emanating from the streetlights coming through the cracked window.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he groaned as he stood before her at the edge of his mattress. She raised herself on her forearms, her eyes fastening onto his. He reached for the sides of her thighs and pulled her down the length of the bed as he hovered over her. She couldn't help but feel like prey that he had caught and that he was about to conquer.
"El... I'm…" she sighed, the nerves hijacking her words.
"Shh, I know, I know this isn't...just trust me, alright," he ushered in low tones as his hands slid down her body, pressing her into his bed.
"I don't do this," she warned as his fingers removed her bra from her breasts. They spilled out, the cold air immediately tightening her nipples.
"You're going to do it with me," he said as his mouth lowered over her right breast. He sucked hard, taking in the side. She watched how he pulled the tender skin into his mouth and then released, his eyes watching her as he did it, before lowering and sucking again. Then he moved to her hardened nipple, his teeth tugging before his mouth sucked once more. His hand arrived at her other breast, kneading as he continued to kiss and nip and suck on her right one. She'd never had a man spend so much time on her.
Her soft moans were filling the bedroom, and her noises encouraged him. He moved his lips over the top slopes of her breasts, his lips finding the column of her sternum. He kissed in soft movements down her chest as his hands replaced his mouth. He squeezed her hard, her tender flesh melding in and through his calloused fingers. She was brought back to the showers and how it had felt when he'd done that just a day ago. He was almost to her navel when he reverted his direction and worked his way back towards her mouth. He pressed his mouth against hers as he spoke to her, checking in with her.
"You like just laying here, Liv?"
"You won't let me do anything else," she groaned, but she couldn't deny the pooling between her thighs. He knew how to touch her, and for once in her life she was okay with giving over the control.
"You look good in my bed," he grinned as he hooked fingers into her underwear, slipping them down her thighs.
"I like being in your bed," she moaned, and he smiled against her mouth, deepening their kiss.
"Good," he said as he moved down her once more, continuing to remove her underwear from where they were resting on her kneecaps. Once they were gone, she felt his fingers press behind her knees, lifting them out and open as he slipped his upper body between them.
"Oh El," she moaned as she felt his hot breaths against her core.
"Spread," he ordered, and she did. "Fuck, Liv," he groaned as his mouth went immediately for her center; they'd learned the lesson not to wait too long already.
His fingernails drove into her inner thighs, and she longed to see the crescent moons he was leaving on her skin. Murmurs were already escaping from her lips, but as his tongue swiped between her folds, she couldn't help but raise her volume. His name and unintelligible sounds were coming from her, and she hardly had the pride anymore to care.
His tongue swirled over her opening before continuing up towards the column of her aroused clitoris. His lips grasped her bud, pulling it between his teeth, and she cried. He continued his strokes. The feeling of his tongue, his teeth, his lips, and his stubble, against her was all too much. He was methodical, careful, but unforgiving. He'd wanted to do it too long for it to be passing. Like he'd said, he was taking his time.
She was on the edge, and he knew it.
"Please," she cried as he abandoned her clit once more and prodded her entrance with his tongue. "Please El," she repeated, and he gave in to her by letting the pad of his thumb circle her clit in fast motions as his mouth sucked on her outer folds. She began to buck against his face, but his spare hand quickly held her down.
"Stop, I'm not done with you," he said as he pushed her legs further apart as he removed his hand and tongue, and she cried out in frustration.
"Elliot, I swear to God," she growled as she tried to lift her hips again, her impulse taking over, but his hand was too firm on her hip bone. He shot her a wicked glance before lowering his face to her core once more.
"Mine," he whispered as he sucked against her clit again. The single syllable made her legs tremor. "Say it," he instructed as two of his fingers penetrated her vagina. Her walls instantly tightened around him. She was so close, and he knew it.
"No."
"Say it, or I won't let you come," he said as he retracted his thick fingers. "Mine," he repeated as his tongue teased at her growing moisture.
"What do you want me to say?" she whimpered because she was desperate for release.
"Say that you're mine." He was a possessive jerk, but she loved him endlessly for it. Fuck him. She was so completely and ridiculously his, and he had to strip her of all her dignity by making her speak it out loud. Prick.
"I'm yours," she cried as he rubbed harder at her admittance, causing the orgasm to start in her core and quickly swell throughout the rest of her limbs. She even felt it in her forehead, her vision fuzzy for just a moment before her eyes steadied again to find him removing all his clothes before her. His length now in front of her, and her blood grew warmer at the sight of him. She sat up, trying to reach for him, but he shoved her shoulders back down.
"My way," he reminded her, as he grabbed her open knees and pushed them down once more, his tip prodded her entrance. He crawled all the way on the bed, the weight of his knees making the bed bend as he lined himself up at her opening. He pushed his tip in and somehow with her back flat and being more vulnerable than she'd ever been, he felt larger than he had the day before. She cried out as her body protested him for just a moment, then she began to feel her muscles giving in.
He pushed in deeper, their conjoined moans emitting into the bedroom. He was stretching her, but he gave her ample time to adjust, her body savoring how it felt to be clamped around his still shaft.
"You feel so good," he said as his hands found her neck, and he kissed her deeply, his tongue entering her mouth fully. She was consumed in every way.
"Move, Elliot," she said as she rocked her hips forward, her heels tapping at his firm backside. He started his motions. The rocking of his hips against her pelvis sent little shivers all over her naked skin. There was no shower spray to mask the noise of their slick bodies coming together, she could vividly hear the low clap bouncing off the acoustics of his bedroom walls.
The sound made her overcome with want and need- the sound of their skin fitting together, hearing him filling her, moving in her, and making love to her.
Making love to her.
His fingers trailed her body, his mouth remained attentive on hers, and his thrusts were slow and serving. It was different, and she couldn't dismiss it.
"Ahh El," she panted, over and over again as they deepened their position by him bending her knees towards her upper arms. Her feet came to hover over his shoulders and she'd forgotten how flexible she could be. He was pushing her limits, and she was loving every minute of it.
"Are you okay, I'm not hurting you?" he checked, and she groaned for him to continue.
"Keep going, harder," she insisted, and he listened, his strokes growing cruel as he neared his release. His hands held her legs high and firm in the air. The faster he moved, the louder her fleeting and increasing moans became. She felt her body tightening for a second time, her vision growing fuzzy once more as her cries faded to breathlessness from the intensity. Her body pulsed around his cock as she crashed from her peak; her heart hammering.
"I'm close," he warned her as his fingers found her mouth. She sucked in three of his digits as she looked to his eyes. She wanted him to come inside her, but she was afraid to vocalize it, afraid to reveal the want that burned shamefully within her.
"Tell me not to, or I'm going to come inside you, Olivia," he warned as his bucks grew reckless and unmeasured.
"Come inside me," she moaned, the truth of her desire echoing around words triggered his release. She felt the warmth hitting her inner walls, coating her, her body clenching on him, pulling the fullness of his climax. Her breaths were ragged and fast as she enjoyed the feeling spreading within her. It was indescribable, incredible, primal.
"You okay?" he asked as his fingers left her mouth and clutched at her hair that had come loose from its bun during their transgressions, his forehead lowered to press against hers as he removed his length from her body. She instantly released an exasperated sigh at the loss of contact.
"Mhhhm," she mumbled, words still beyond her, as she found his warm mouth, his pants meeting and raveling with hers.
"I love you so much, Olivia," he sighed as he sucked on her lower lip. She wasn't used to hearing those words. They warmed her lower belly but made her mind rage with mixing emotions of satisfaction and fear.
"I like doing it your way too," she sighed, and he laughed lightly against the crook of her neck, which was slick with a sheen of moisture from how he'd moved her.
"Is that your way of saying you love me too, Liv?" he asked as he moved his mouth from her pulse to kiss along the shell of her ear. She nodded twice, and he smiled into her jaw line as he continued to trail her. "Good," he decided, as he pulled her on top of him, and she settled against his chest. He held her close while the sun rose in the background of their afterglow.