A/N: Here is the conclusion for this fic. I want to point out, before anyone starts asking, that yes, I wrote the kink aspect of this fic pretty lightly. Nothing here is even approaching hardcore, and it's not because I couldn't or wouldn't write that, I just felt going full dominatrix on Elliot wasn't true to the narrative for this. I also don't dive into angst/conflicted feelings regarding relationship status here, because I specifically wanted to avoid angst. Honestly, I'm just not one of those EO Shippers that cares much one way or the other if El cheats. Thanks for all the comments and favorites – I always love feedback! Enjoy

Rating: MA, explicit

Spoilers: None

Trigger warnings: Light bondage

- 2 -

Even under oath, Elliot never could have attested to how they had managed to return to Olivia's apartment instead of simply ravaging one another in the car. From the alley to her living room was simply a blur, bordered with the sound of Olivia's boots rubbing against each other and the smell of her perfume.

He was familiar with filling up silences when he was nervous – or shutting down completely, but now, as Liv had the upper hand, somehow the silence was what he wanted. It was the perfect checkpoint between nerves and anticipation. He watched her as she locked the door, then untied the belt at her waist. She turned to face him as she unbuttoned each jacket button purposefully, one at a time.

What was she thinking as she looked him over? Her eyes held secrets in the shifting shadows of the room. Before she shed the jacket completely, she pulled the belt from the loops, hanging onto it as she tossed the coat onto her sofa. Elliot's heart was still thrumming hard enough to unnerve him as she stepped up in front of him.

He focused on the dress hugging her silhouette, as she pushed his jacket off his shoulders. Next, his shirt came off. "Give me your hands," she said softly. He raised them together without hesitation. Carefully, she tied the belt around his wrists in an elaborate maze of knots. When she was satisfied, she led him into the bedroom.

Lamps, one on each bedside table, were flicked on against the thick dark. He stood in a mock Marine stance, legs apart, completely silent. Reaching behind her, Olivia unzipped the dress and let it fall forward from her arms. God, how badly he wanted to touch her. He bit into his bottom lip, surveying the delicate black bra that held her breasts, the smooth planes of her skin. The dress fell the rest of the way to the floor. She stepped out of it, leaving the boots on. El's teeth drew blood, his cock pulsing back to life inside his pants.

She wasn't wearing any underwear.

Hadn't been wearing any underwear. All day.

Pulse hammering at his temples, Elliot was lightheaded at the revelation. His tongue caught the metallic tang of his blood as he licked his lips in frustration. He imagined shoving his hands under the lace cups, thumbing her breasts roughly as he pushed her onto the bed.

But he was just standing there, feet sinking into Liv's bedroom carpet. It was torture.

It's about control, not violence, she had told him.

But, hadn't she always been in control? It seemed to El that way, since she had stepped into the precinct eleven years before; like someone had switched the track out from under the train of his life, altering all the destinations. Together they had seen strange and beautiful things. It felt like belonging to two different places; he never quite knew when he was truly home.

Olivia stretched cool arms around his neck, and kissed him where he stood. After long hours of restraint, it was almost soothing. Her lips were as soft as the kiss was hungry, his hard nipples pushing into the lace of her bra as he tried to touch with anything other than his hands. What he wanted was his fingers buried in the globes of her ass, her legs clinging to his waist.

The kiss broke with him panting, holding her gaze as she stepped back again. "On your knees," she demanded. With some effort, he managed to sink to his knees without crashing face-first into the carpet. He found himself about to eye-level with Liv's bellybutton, and he dipped his head, moving his mouth in the direction of her mons without waiting.

Immediately, her hand was on his chin, jerking his head up to meet her eyes. "Ask first," she corrected.

It was hard for him – damn hard. Sex had never included verbalizing desire so exactingly for him, and he was no poetic man. Even confessing to his priest left him stumbling over his words nine out of ten times.

Elliot closed his eyes, breathed through his nose. "I . . . " he hesitated, paused, tried again: "Can I – please – taste you?"

"Is that what you want?"

"God, so much," he blurted, letting his head drop forward, chin to his chest.

Liv's warm palm touched his head, gentle this time. "Me too," she replied, betraying the precariousness of her control.

He leaned down again, brought his lips to the soft, feverish surface of the skin beside her bellybutton. Kissing gently, he dragged his mouth over the slope of her pelvis and nosed over neatly trimmed, dark hair. The scent of her desire filled his nostrils, sending blood rushing to his already straining groin. A thrust of his tongue parted her labia and he moaned at how wet she was.

The vibration of the moan shot through her like a wire pulled taught and Liv arched into it, her legs trembling. Elliot sucked her clit into his mouth, ignoring the ache in his aged knees as he tasted the salt and tang of her need. She pushed her palm to the back of his head and guided him forcefully where she wanted his mouth. The explicitness of it, so far outside the edges of his experience, was harrowing in its pleasure.

He could hear her whimpering as she pushed him into her: "Ye-ess, yes . . . " Rocking carefully against his face, with his tongue see-sawing from clit to center. El hadn't been the only one burning all day. Olivia pulled away slightly, gesturing toward his bound hands. "Put your fingers inside me, Elliot."

Both hands together, he twisted within the knots to get a position that worked. She was slick, hot, throbbing around two fingers and his breathing was erratic with his control. As he moved, curling into her G-spot, Liv's own hand entered the fray, rubbing her clit, hard.

Jesus, he reeled, is this what I've been missing all my life?

There was nothing El could think of that compared, nothing that even came close to the sight of Olivia touching herself as his fingers thrust inside of her. He gazed up at her, greedy even for the expressions that washed over her as she brought herself to orgasm. She shook against his touch, and he could feel her tighten on his fingers. He growled with pride, letting her ride it out, her wetness coursing over his fingers.

When he finally withdrew, he sucked his fingers clean without a moment's thought. It surprised them both.

Olivia held out her hand and helped him back to his feet. His pants were ridiculously tented with the evidence of his own needs. Smiling softly, Liv pulled him in by the waistband, unbuttoning his pants. His zipper was lowered for the second time that night, and then her hand was inside his boxer-briefs, curling around him.

"Is this for me?" she asked happily.

The muscle in Elliot's jaw tightened as his hips moved toward her touch. "Yes, Ma'am."

Liv smirked. "Ma'am. I like that." Her strokes were firm as she tipped her lips to him, welcoming his warm tender kiss, his staccato breath rushing between touches.

Unclasping her bra, she tossed it to the carpet and turned to her bed, laying back with her booted legs dangling over the edge. El trailed behind her without having to be told, stood between her knees, his gaze sweeping over the curve of her naked breasts.

He sighed quietly. "Please, Liv . . . my hands."

She propped herself on her elbows, pouting. "What about them?"

"I want to use them," he chuckled. Then tossed in, "Please," for good measure.

She took her sweet time in sitting up, untangling the knots holding his wrists, then she flopped back onto the bed, looking at him expectantly. Elliot slid a large, warm hand under her knee and lifted her leg, sliding down the leather of her boot until her ankle was circled by his wrist.

He turned his head and dragged his tongue up the length of her boot. "You've been killing me all day, in these," he mumbled against her.

Olivia shivered, urged her pelvis off the mattress as she watched him switch to the other leg. "Jesus Christ, El," she breathed. "Get your fucking pants off and get down here."

His body was a blanket of warmth over her cool skin as his lips took up the task of kissing whatever they could reach. He pushed both hands into her hair, arching her neck so he could bite and kiss her pulse points, so he could breathe in her perfume at the hollow of her throat.

His hands on her breasts sent his heart trip-hammering all over again. Eleven years was a long game of Look but Never Touch, and his blue eyes were reverent as his fingers brushed her dusky nipples. Elliot watched her, panting and squirming under his touch, a grin spreading across his face before he dipped his head to use his mouth. The tight pebbled nipples under his tongue were a sharp reminder to his groin that he was no longer as young as he once had been.

Elliot was used to sex in the dark, under sheets that led to fumbling and muted movements of bodies that had memorized each other. This was exposed and raw, with no space leftover for embarrassment or guilt. Olivia's body was familiar and yet couldn't be recalled by rote.

Still wanting all the control, Liv straddled his waist, the leather of her boots pushed in tight against the sides of his hips. She rubbed his slick, hot length against her clit, moaning in earnest, almost all the tease having burned down. He could see – and watched – clearly as she sank onto him, his hands clenching into bloodless fists as he memorized the sight of his cock disappearing into her wet heat.

"Fuck, Olivia," he panted, "you feel . . . oh – God!"

She started moving, and language was lost as she circled her hips on him. He could feel the silky wet of her on his shaft, unable to take his eyes off of where their bodies joined. Grabbing her roughly by the hips, he held her steady and bucked his hips, filling her even deeper.

"Elliot!" she cried in surprise, letting his name drift into a sighing moan as his quick, hard thrusts took her breath away. Hand to her clit again, Liv stroked herself to a frenzied orgasm.

She crashed forward onto him, muscles still clenching hard around his cock, kissed the ridge of his jaw. "Fill me up, El," she whispered, "I want you to come inside me."

He could honestly say the phrase had never been spoken to him before, and the groan that it elicited was also foreign to his ears. She was still grinding against his pelvis, and he let go at last, unable to deny her what she wanted.

"Yes. Yes. Yes," he punctuated each buck of his hips with the word, knowing he would never deny her anything again.

El let his tired arms pull her into him as they both tried to switch emotional gears. "You know . . . " he panted, "if there are other classes you audited that you think . . . might be useful, I'm all ears."

Olivia laughed into his shoulder. "I definitely wouldn't say you're all ears," she teased, brushing a hand low against his pelvis, "but you sure are a good student."

"Will this be on the final?" he deadpanned.

"Mm, you've got a few more lessons coming," she mumbled.

Elliot smiled into the dark. "Yes Ma'am."

END