A/N: This one-shot is actually Chapters 25 and 26 of my multi-chapter story, Defenseless. I decided to post them as a standalone one-shot for those of you who enjoy smut without 80k words of slow burn. There might be a few things in here that elude to the larger story but for the most part, this works as a standalone smut shot set during the events of the episode Burned (08x11). Enjoy!
Furious Demands and Desires
She was so sick of the games.
She was so done.
She climbed the stairs to the locker room to collect her gym bag. She wasn't sure where Elliot was. This morning he'd told her that he'd report back on his finding on Valerie Sennett, but she hadn't heard from him all day. She couldn't believe the last real words she had spoken to him were accusing him of being potentially abusive. Maybe she hadn't seen him all day because he'd requested for a new partner after she stooped to that level. They'd never fought this ruthlessly, this recklessly before.
It was evening, and the precinct was clearing out. It was more likely that he'd gone home for the day without following up with her like he said he would. She realized as she climbed the stairs that she missed him. They'd spent days yelling at each other over this case, and then hadn't spoken to each other today. She wanted to talk to him; part of her even wanted to discuss what they'd started on her couch. She didn't know what she'd say though; it seemed any time either of them opened their mouths they only inflicted more pain.
She opened the locker room door and was pulled from her thoughts as she was met with the sight of him standing in nothing more than a loosely tied towel. He had his back to her, and he was about to pull a t-shirt over his head when she startled him.
"Turn around," she whispered, as she clicked the door closed behind her. She felt her blood begin to rush fast as her mind tried to catch up with what her mouth had just said. That's what I'm counting on. His wife wanted her to convince him to sign his papers, and restraint and respect of their marriage hadn't worked, so she decided at that moment that she had a new plan.
She was done playing.
He lifted the shirt back up and held it in his hands as he turned around. His jaw was tight, and she could sense he was still angry with her.
"You think you're funny, don't you?" he said as he clutched the t-shirt, and she could see the veins run up his forearm. He was wound so tight. She wanted to make him come undone.
"It wasn't funny when you did it," she said as she paced closer to him. His eyes were burning into her. The softer side of her wanted to cup his jaw and assure him that she didn't think such awful things of him, but the angry side of her wanted to make him scream. He'd made both of their lives suffocating. She'd protect him till her dying day, but she was done protecting his marriage, when all it was doing was hurting him.
"You should leave, Olivia," he said. His eyes were squinted, and his chest was tense. So much of his body was exposed. His trapezius muscles flexed as he gripped the shirt in front of the knot on his towel. She could see the trail of hair on his abdomen that disappeared into the towel, the ridges of his hip bones holding up the terry cloth.
"I'm not going to make us coffee, Elliot," she said as she took three firm steps towards him.
"I don't know if you want to get any closer, I'm not sure if you heard, but I have a history of violence," he spat at her, but she didn't care. He could take as many shots as he wanted; she'd already made up her mind.
"Take it off," she said as her eyes landed on his towel.
"There's still people here; are you insane?" he murmured in a low and vexed voice.
"Not feeling like I have much to lose, Elliot," she said as she reached for the towel, but his hands dropped the t-shirt and caught her wrists just in time.
"What's wrong with you?" Elliot said as his fingers squeezed her delicate wrists.
"I'm mad."
"At me?" he asked, his eyes flashed with earnestness, and then returned to cold ice.
"Yes."
"Well I'm mad at you too."
"Great, take the towel off," she whispered.
"I'm not going to fuck you while…"
"If you say while the papers aren't signed, I swear to God, Elliot,"
"I was going to say, while I'm mad at you," he hissed as he dropped her hands.
"Why not? Might help you get over it," she said as her fingers flicked his towel off, and his eyes shot up in shock. It took him a moment to process what she'd done. He quickly regained his composure, and his eyes darkened more than she'd ever seen them before. He was furious.
"Great, nine years of mutual respect, and you want me to fuck you in our place of work when the Captain is probably still in his office?"
"Yes."
"Olivia…"
"The shower stalls have doors and locks, and no one's coming up here anyway. Munch and Fin are gone. No one was in the bullpen."
"I want it to be in a bed," he said, but she looked down and could see he was erect in front of her. The sight of his arousal made her body shiver.
"Well the cribs are right there."
"In my bed, safe."
"Choir boy," she scoffed as she fixed her eyes on his erection.
"Excuse me?" he said as he flicked her chin up with his fingers.
"I'm done with all the excuses," she said with a slight shake to her head.
"I'm not fucking you in a shower stall, Olivia," he said firmly.
"Yes. You are," she said, repeating words he'd spoken to her the first year they'd worked together, as she slipped his thumb into her mouth like she had all those years ago. She licked his digit, and she could hear him groan. He pulled back his hand and pushed off her leather jacket. It hit the bench behind them.
"Take off your clothes," he said as he yanked her jean's button open. She smirked at her success and pulled her shirt off her body.
"If we get caught, you can explain this to the Brass," he growled as he shoved her jeans and panties off in one swoop. She toed off her shoes and stepped out of her pants. He bent to pick them up, shoving them in his locker. All she had left was her bra. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he looked down at her. He let out a breath as he wrapped his arms around her back and unclasped their last barrier. The bra fell to their feet, and she watched his eyes soak in the sight of her before him. He hadn't seen her like this since that day in the locker room six years ago.
"I'll go in first, make sure it's empty. Meet me in a few minutes," she said as she picked up his towel and let it hang off her fingers as she walked to the door that connected the showers to the locker room. She let her hips sway as she walked away from him.
His eyes watched as the slope of her backside taunted him. The curve of her spine dipped into her hips and down the curve of her ass. Her ponytail bobbed between her shoulder blades as she walked into the shower room. Her body made him feel light-headed.
She'd filed out since he'd seen her completely naked six years ago. Her breasts and thighs were larger, and it made him want to feel her under his hands even more. He picked up her bra and threw it in his locker alongside her other discarded clothing. He grabbed his extra clean towel and wrapped it around himself, covering his erect penis. He didn't need anyone walking in on him like that.
He couldn't believe her. His partner, who had held him while he was broken, kept boundaries for his sake, and spent the last three days bitter at him, wanted him to fuck her, in a shower stall. Not sleep with her, not make-love to her like he almost had on her couch before his wife called, fuck her. On any other day he wouldn't have been able to do it; he loved her too much. Loved her.
He loved her.
He loved her so much, but he was also furious with her. He'd also signed his papers, the reason he'd signed his papers, so he had nothing holding him back anymore.
His mind wanted to pester him with all the reasons he shouldn't do this. He should go in there and tell her he wanted more, he wanted it to be meaningful, he wanted to take his time. But he knew if he did that, she'd be heartbroken. He knew his partner, and he knew she was giving him this chance to prove that he could go through with it. He didn't want her to be hurt. He couldn't foresee the aftermath, and it terrified him. He didn't want her to run again.
He inhaled because he knew there was not a choice this time. He had to prove it to her if he didn't want to lose her for good.
He walked to the showers and was relieved to find them empty, other than her painted toes peeking out under the door of the stall in the furthest corner. He could hear the water running.
"Liv," he said as he placed the towel on the hook and opened the door. He found her leaning against the shower wall, just left of the stream of water. Her skin was still dry other than the light spray from the falling water next to her. The faucet was turned to scalding because he could see the steam billowing around their bodies. He reached for the handle and turned it back because he didn't want her skin to burn.
He stood before her and looked at her body. Her hair was still tied back, her bangs close to hiding her eyes from him. He liked her bangs; they made her look sweet. Then he had to laugh internally because nothing she had done in the last twenty minutes had been sweet. Her breasts were so full and high on her chest. He could see how they lifted as she breathed with anticipation, the steam pulling into her hot mouth and then exhaling in the space around them. Her nipples were pulled tight, and he wanted to take them in his mouth. His eyes lingered on her chest, and he softened at the memory of kissing her there when she'd first returned. He'd felt so connected to her then, as she touched his back with a comforting hand and let him sleep against her warm body.
"What are you waiting for?" she questioned, the steam parting at her words.
"I just like looking at you," he grinned as his eyes glazed over her long legs and bare feet that stuck to the shower floor, inches from the circling drain. He laughed internally again because he was supposed to be mad at her, but one look and he'd melted in her hands.
"You're supposed to be angry."
"I am angry," he lied as he stepped towards her and gripped her waist. He reminded himself about all the hurtful things she'd said to him as he squeezed her. If she wanted him to be angry, he would be, he could make the anger boil again.
"What are my boundaries with you?" he asked as his hands lowered over her hips bones.
"I trust you, El," she said, and the use of his nickname let him know that her anger was also evaporating with the steam.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't," she assured as she stood on her tiptoes and captured his mouth with hers. Her lips against his reminded him of all the things she'd said to him. He bit her lip to let her know he was still livid with her. She'd played with his heart too. She'd left, twice. He was mad, mad about how hard all this had been for them.
He let his hand rise along her back, his thumb and pointer finger dragging along the nape of her neck as his hand came to rest at the base of her head. He fastened his fingers around her ponytail and pulled her head down as he let his mouth move to her neck and down to her chest. As he was about to let his mouth take one of her pointed nipples, when an intrusive thought broke his focus on her body. Valerie Sennet reported that her husband attacked her in the shower, and she had the bruises to prove it, bruises he'd insinuated were consensual from rough sex. He looked up at Olivia. Her eyes were closed, but when his movements stopped, she opened them and looked up at him. She seemed to read his mind.
"It's not the same thing, Elliot," her words were soft, and he was thankful that after nine years by his side she'd learned to pick up on all his doubts and silent thoughts. He knew that the horrors of their job didn't escape her in these moments either; it was the burden they both bore. He couldn't bring himself to say anything; he felt haunted.
"El," she said as she reached for his jaw, "I know you. What I said yesterday, I never meant that, I was mad, I trust you so much, you gotta trust yourself," she said as her fingers found his neck, and she squeezed. She was telling him that she could be rough too, and if he trusted her, then he had to know she meant it when she said she trusted him
"Liv…"
"Take me," she said as her thumbs pressed into his windpipe and pooled in the space between his collar bone.
"You gotta know that I…" love you, but he couldn't finish the sentence because she moved her mouth down his chest and found his tip.
"I know," she said as she looked up at him with his length resting in her hand. The water was splashing against her back, and he worried her knees would hurt on the shower tiles. He brushed her bangs out of her eyes as she began her motions on him.
He was fed up with her being the braver one, and he could feel himself losing control, so he pulled her up, her mouth popping off his cock as he lifted her with force back to her feet. A wicked smile flashed across her eyes.
"Turn around," he said as he braced her hips and pushed her into the spray of the water. He decided foreplay wasn't necessary; they'd been doing that for nine years. The force of his push sent her hands spreading against the back wall of the shower stall. He could see the whites of her knuckles as she braced it. He pushed her all the way against the wall, her belly flush with the cold tile. He got up close behind her and pulled her ponytail back again, so the shell of her ear lined up with his lips,
"Is this what you want?" he rasped as he let the tips of his teeth nip on the cartilage of her ear. She murmured a yes, and that encouraged him.
"Spread your legs," he commanded as he drove a knee between her thighs. Her knees locked as she widened her stance against the wall. The water was hitting his back, the pressure and heat soothing against his exhilarated skin.
He pulled her off the wall slightly so he could wrap a hand around her stomach and let it find her core.
His fingers sought her navel and her lower stomach, then they slipped over her mound. He lowered his hand more to find her slick and waiting. He pushed his thumb down over her clitoris and let it continue to part her, opening her vulva to him.
"Wider," he groaned as his other hand gripped her thigh. She complied and widened her stance more.
"You're so ready," he said as he let his hands lazily stroke her folds; he didn't need to test her with a finger. She nodded with her forehead against the wall.
"Good," he said as he removed his hand and let both his hands latch onto her hip bones as he pulled her ass off the wall. He held her in place with one hand and let the other trace the curvature of her spine and then palm the fullness of her backside. He knew he couldn't keep her waiting much longer, but he wasn't done touching her. He leaned over her, his chest pressing to her back as his lips found her shoulder. He bit softly, and then he lifted his chest as he let his short fingernails trail down her back, just enough to scratch little red lines in his wake. The water soothed them immediately, and he could hear her groan in pleasure. Then he pulled her chest off the wall as he let his hands cup the weight of her breasts.
He'd been looking at her breasts through layers of clothing for years, and now he finally had them at his fingertips. He squeezed hard, and it made her call out his name. He grinned at the sound and determined he couldn't wait any longer.
He let his hands return to her hips as he pulled her back once more and lined himself up with her opening. He realized they had no protection. He didn't want any barriers with her, but he didn't know how she felt.
"Olivia?"
"It's okay, I want all of you," she clarified, and he didn't think about it anymore as he finally drove himself inside of his partner. His partner.
He could feel her body adjust around him, and he knew he should give her a minute, but she'd told him to fuck her. He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. Her back arched as he did it. He couldn't believe he was finally inside of her; he never could have guessed the power it would have over him. The sight of her back straining, her fingers curling against the wall as he drove into her had seared his eyes and mind forever. He'd never had a woman in this position before. As her body gripped his he couldn't understand why he'd not allowed himself to have this connection for so long.
His fingers seized her hips harder as he rocked into her with quick and steady strokes. She was pushing back against him, meeting his thrusts, and he was overcome in the motions of their bodies finally coming together. Her moans and mutters of his nickname told him she was getting closer. He moved a hand from her hip, up her belly, as he pulled her up straight so her back was against his chest, his length slipping out of her. She was standing straight when she muttered,
"What'ya doing?"
"I want to look at you when I make you come," he said as he turned her around and pressed her back against the tiles. He lifted her so her legs would wrap around his pelvis. He picked up the motion as he entered her again from this position.
He could see himself moving in and out of her body, and it made his head feel fuzzy, the heat of the water and the reality of them connecting, making him feel flighty and high. He was reaching deep parts of her, and he hoped that no other man had ever filled her like he was. Her eyes were fixed on him, and her breathing was in sync with his. He let his hand close lightly over her throat, and her eyes glazed with desire.
"You like that?" he asked, and her throat bobbed underneath his palm. "Are you going to come for me?" he asked as he let the thumb of his other hand fall to her clit. He pressed as he continued his strokes, his shaft brushing his fingers as he moved.
"Mmhmm," she muttered as she pressed her eyes closed before opening them to connect with him again.
"You like when I fuck you, Olivia?"
"Mmhmm," she repeated, and his words must have helped send her over the edge because he could feel her pulsing around him as she began to call out his name. He picked up his pace, pushing into her fast and hard, her body shaking against the wall. She clenched tight, and he didn't want to pull himself from her grip, but he knew he couldn't come inside her without any protection. He pulled out and climaxed against her abdomen, her name falling from his lips, the syllables mixing with her own cries. She was breathing hard as the orgasm ran through her body, her mouth open, his hand still closed around her throat. He felt her legs shake around him, and then the tremors subsided. He knew he had to hold her up even though his own legs wanted to collapse from the force of his climax. Once their breathing steadied, falling from the crescendo into a nice lull, he lifted her from the wall and carried her under the water to wash away his release. His fingers grazed her stomach, and he could see the flutter of her sensitive muscles under his touch. He set her down, her feet making contact with the slippery floor. He wet his hands and pacified her body with the warm water. He pulled her hair out of her ponytail, letting her longer and darker hair loose around her shoulders. The water caused it to stick to her neck as he tangled his fingers in the wet strands. Droplets of water fell down her reddened lips, her eyelashes slick with moisture. She was a sight he would never tire of. He knew that the next time they did this, he'd take his time with her. It would be his turn to call the shots. There were still parts of her he'd yet to fully appreciate. He loved touching her. He loved her.
"El?" she asked in a breathy tone, but he cut her off by kissing her mouth. "Are you still mad at me?" she asked in a low tone as she broke the kiss.
"Furious," he said as he nipped at her bottom lip softly.