A/N: I'm so glad you guys liked Friday's chapter (and that you weren't lying!!)… obviously I have never planned a kidnapping, so I would have to make him THE dumbest kidnapper ever. Because, um, that's what I would be. So. Yeah. Anyway. Okay, so this chapter is actually before Chapter 5 in the timeline of things. I just wanted to torture you and make you wait for the smut. By the way… for those of you who didn't notice… I jacked the rating to M. As in Mwhahaha! It's gonna get warm in here…
Disclaimer: Only my overactive imagination is mine.
--
"Will you come up?" I ask quietly. I'm staring down at our hands, still resting together on his thigh.
"Yeah," he responds simply. I look up into his beautiful blue eyes and find myself automatically smiling. He just does that to me.
He parks next to the Touareg we'd gone and gotten from the park earlier and pulls the keys out of the ignition. I smile sadly at the loss of contact from his hand. He gets out of the Tahoe and comes around to my door and opens it for me. He always did stuff like that when we were "married." He said I deserved it. It still makes me tingle. Oh. Right. Because I'm still in love with him. Dammit.
I take the hand he offers and we walk up to the building. It's late so there are not very many people in the lobby. We ride in silence on the elevator up to the sixth floor, lost in our own thoughts and worries about our daughter. I step off the elevator, Elliot right behind me, our hands still clasped tightly together. It's my security blanket right now. I slide the plastic key in the door lock and it clicks open. As soon as I'm inside, I want to start bawling. It's just how we left it. Coloring books and story books spread from hell to breakfast, a pile of hair stuff on the bathroom sink, about thirty billion tiny pairs of shoes in the closet.
Elliot pulls me into his arms and I lay my head on his chest as sobs wrack my body. "Shhh… it's okay… we're going to find her… shhh… Liv…" he murmurs my name over and over as I cry. He scoops me off the ground and carries me into the master bedroom. He pulls back the huge down comforter and lays me in the bed. He pulls off my shoes and drops them on the floor. Toeing off his own shoes, he climbs in behind me and wraps his arms around my body. I never lied to Kelli when I told her that her daddy's hug was the safest place in the world. I can feel myself relax little by little, just by him holding me and whispering in my ear.
"Tell me about her," he says.
"Her full name is Kelli Serena Benson. Her nickname is Kellibean," I say. "She's so sweet, El. She's bright, and funny, but math is giving her a hell of a time."
"Just like her sister," he murmurs.
"Yep. I'm already not looking forward to the algebra days," I laugh softly. "Addition is okay. Subtraction? Sucks. I don't remember first grade being so tough."
He laughs. "It's been a long time since you were there," he says.
I look over my shoulder at him. "Are you calling me old, Stabler?"
"Never," he laughs. "What else? What does she like to do?"
"She loves to play games. She likes Sorry. And Trouble. And I've played more Hungry Hungry Hippos in the past six years then I think I have in my entire life." I smile, thinking about our daughter's collection of board games.
"What about Clue?"
"Elliot. She's six. Don't turn her into a detective until she's at least ten," I tease.
"Sorry, reflex," he laughs. He tightens his arms around me and I just want to lay here like this forever. I want to find the monster that has our baby and then I want us to be a family. Wow. That's a pretty scary thought for a woman who was dreading telling her daughter's father that said daughter existed.
"Tell me about the other kids," I say.
"Well. Maureen is a doctor."
"Wow!"
"Yep. The girl who couldn't quite master algebra saves lives," he chuckled. "I'm pretty proud of her."
"I bet."
"Katie is in law school. She wants to be a district attorney."
"A prosecutor? Katie?"
"Well. She wanted to be a public defender. But then she got worried she might come up against Casey someday. And that scared her straight."
"Oh my gosh. Can you imagine? All I can see is the little blonde girl pitching a fit in the middle of the station house when you wouldn't let her date that boy."
"Yeah. And if she pitched a fit in court I'm pretty sure Case would just roll her eyes and get her ass hauled outta there in a hurry. But she's actually done really well. Top of her class at Yale."
"Wow. And the twins?"
"Richard," he pauses, and I giggle at this. I wondered how long it would take before he put the kibosh on being called Dickie. "Richard is actually going to school in California. Cal Poly. Met a sweetheart of a girl – her name's Rachel. She's a couple years older than him-- really nice girl. He's going into architecture."
I laugh. "What about Liz?" I ask.
"Lizzie's going to be a kindergarten teacher. She's student teaching in Alaska right now. With the amount of money she'll make if she stays in Alaska, she can retire in seven years. My daughter will be eligible to retire the year after me."
"Good lord, Stabler. Kids have been eating their wheaties apparently?" I tease.
"Yep. And somehow Kath and I are paying for it all."
"How is Kathy?" I ask.
"She's good. She got married. He's a really nice guy. His name is Steve Davenport. He was the girls' basketball coach in high school. He's home every night for dinner. There all weekend unless there's a game, but Kathy goes to every one of them anyway. He's really mellowed her out."
"Wow. It's amazing how much things change in a few years. I can't believe your kids are all grown up, old man," I laugh softly.
He tickles my sides. "You hush. I've still got one more baby to raise," he says quietly.
I roll onto my other side to face him, still wrapped in his embrace. "I really do want you to be part of her life. She's so excited to meet you," my voice cracks as a tear slides down my cheek.
"Liv, you have no idea how excited I am to meet her," he says. "As soon as we find her, we're having some quality family bonding time."
"I'd like that," I whisper, my eyes drifting shut.
"And on that note," he kisses my forehead gently. "I'm going to go crash in the other bedroom."
I put out my arm to stop him. "Stay," I say.
"You sure?"
I nod my head. "I just need you to hold me," I say, my eyes welling up with tears again.
He stands up and shucks his jeans and polo shirt and lies back down next to me.
"I'm going to put on some sweats," I say, pushing myself out of the bed. I walk over to the closet and quickly lose my jeans and top in favor of a black FBI tee shirt and hot pink cotton pajama pants. As I'm unhooking my bra, I hear Elliot clear his throat. I look over my shoulder and smile. "We have a kid, Stabler. Nothing you haven't seen before."
He laughs nervously. "I guess not," he says, blushing. I roll my eyes and climb back into bed beside him. He re-wraps me in his embrace and strokes the back of my head. "This is nice," he says.
"Mhm," I agree. Very nice. Almost too nice. I just need to forget for a little while. Forget about the horrors of the world and that the NYPD is currently searching for my baby daughter. Our baby daughter.
--
There's this dream I have sometimes. It usually comes when I've fallen asleep with the image of Elliot beside me. In the dream, I wake up (which is a horrible way for a dream to happen, because you wake up in the dream and you think it's reality and then you wake up FOR REAL. It sucks.) and he's there. His hands are all over my body. We're totally naked and he's kissing every inch of my skin. We make out like a couple of crazy teenagers for awhile… I can't even count the number of times I orgasm before he's even inside me… and then we're making love… and it's amazing. I love this man with every fiber of my being, and in my dream, he loves me too. We have a perfect life, and a perfect daughter, and I'm sure we even have a perfect dog sleeping out in the kitchen. And every time I have this dream, the sex is better. More perfect. But every time, as it happens with dreams… I wake up. It's over. I'm awake, I'm a single mom, and the perfect man is thousands of miles away.
I'm having the dream again, which is a real bitch since I have Elliot here. I'm in his arms and I'm dreaming about being in his arms. How ridiculous is that? Today, I convince myself that I'm dreaming but I'm going to relax and enjoy it. Knowing that I'll wake up eventually, but not caring. His hands run through my hair and my scalp tingles at the touch of his fingers. He kisses me softly, once, twice, tempting me to open my mouth a little to let his tongue through. I do and it's bliss. His tongue runs over mine, softly touching and teasing. I reach out to get a tighter hold on him, maybe in an effort to wake myself up before I go so far that I'll end up monumentally disappointed when I wake up for real, and he's just lying there, his arms around me, protecting me as a friend. When I pull him closer, I can feel his erection between my thighs. It's so… real. My eyes fly open and I know I'm awake. Awake for real. But we're still kissing. Kissing and touching. His eyes are closed and he's murmuring my name. "Olivia… Olivia… Liv… Oh Liv…"
What should I do? Don't answer that. I know what I should do. I should wake him up. Tell him he was dreaming. But you know what? I don't really feel like it. Besides. He seems to be really enjoying himself, judging by the part of him that's trying extra…hard to get close to me.
I close my eyes again and continue kissing him. His hands are roaming over my bare back… and my eyes fly open again.
When did I get naked? I didn't seriously strip in my sleep… did I?
I nestle closer to him, and he's kissing my face. Kissing down my neck to my collarbone. My weak spot. He knows it. It's a path he's traveled a million times before, and a million more than that in my dreams. I whisper his name, like it's a secret I don't want anyone to know. "Elliot… Oh Elliot…" His eyes open to me murmuring his name and he looks up at me, as if he wants permission to continue. Is he awake? Like really, truly, awake? Or just in that weird limbo where you're sort of awake but later when someone asks you "do you remember talking to me this morning? I called you and we talked for ten minutes," you have no clue what they're talking about. His eyes clear and I can tell he's truly awake. "Olivia," he begins.
"Don't stop," I beg.
He doesn't. He keeps kissing me, working his way down my chest to my breasts, kissing them gently, reverently, and not leaving an inch of their soft skin un-kissed. His fingers brush against my stretch marks, my war wounds from bringing our nine pound squalling baby into the world. Six years later and they're still there. I self-consciously suck in my stomach, and he looks up at me. "Don't," he says. He leaves my breasts and kisses down to my stomach, tenderly moving his mouth up and down each of my war wounds. His hands move south, just grazing over me. Teasing me. He slides a finger inside me and chuckles softly. "You're so wet," he whispers. This is so much better in the dream. In the dream there's no talking. Especially no talking like this. His thumb brushes against my clit and my head is about to blow off my shoulders from how fast my heart is racing. He pushes another finger inside me and pulls them slowly out. He brings them to his mouth and slowly licks them off. I don't know if it's his reverence, or the fact that he's doing something I would normally consider down right pornographic, but something abut the gesture makes me lose my mind. I'm falling, only I'm not dreaming and I know he'll be there to catch me before I hit bottom. My hands fist in the sheets as my hips buck off the bed of their own volition and I choke out a strangled cry.
He's kissing his way back up my body until he gets to my lips. We kiss slowly and sweetly and he looks at me, his blue eyes clouded with lust. "Elliot," I whisper. "Make love to me."
"Anything. Anything you want," he murmurs in my ear. He shifts over me, bracing his weight on his impressive arms, his hands on either side of my head, his lips kissing in slow patterns on my shoulder and chest. In one swift slide, he's inside me and I know I'm not dreaming. This is too good to even be a dream. I must be dead and this must be Heaven. He pulls out, almost all the way, and the plunges back in. "You feel so good," he whispers. "Wrapped around me like this. I missed you so much, Liv. I missed us so very much."
"Me too," I whisper, feeling tears welling up. This is so damn perfect that it's going to make me cry. I blink the tears back and try to concentrate. I trail my fingers up and down his muscular back. He's never stopped working out, and it shows. When we made the transition from "married" to lovers and we saw each other naked for the first time, I just wanted to lay there and stare at him. He's so amazing. Just to look at. I turn my head and place a gentle kiss on the USMC tattoo on his right forearm. I can't get over what an amazing man he is. What an amazing father he's been to his four kids, and what a wonderful daddy he will be to Kelli. "Elliot…" I say.
"What, baby?" He's still stroking in and out of me, in an effort to draw out the pleasure as long as he can.
"I… I think… I think I'm falling in love with you again," I say it in a rush. I can't help myself. I want to scream it from every rooftop in New York City. I LOVE ELLIOT STABLER!
I don't want to get over him.
Well. Maybe. Once I'm done being under him.
I laugh to myself at the thought.
"You tell me you love me and that's funny to you?" he asks.
"I'm sorry, am I breaking your concentration, Detective?" I tease back.
"Not a bit," he pushes into me, all the way, and I'm seeing stars. The kind where your body is just so blissed out that all you can see is black and periodic flashes of light. That's how it's always been with Elliot. And if he feels the same way… how it'll always be.
He hammers into me, one more time, as a guttural cry is ripped from his lungs. He collapses on top of me, and starts to roll to his back, muttering something about being too heavy for me. I hold him in place, I love how he feels right here. The security of his six-foot, two-hundred pound frame resting on top of me is something I won't pass up.
"Olivia?" he asks.
"What?" I respond. I don't even care that he hasn't said he loved me back. It feels so good just to say it. To say it, and know it, and feel it. I love him.
"I never stopped loving you."