Undercover Days chapter 8
Warning: It's an M people, take note of the warning, sexually explicit material!
A/N: Hope you all enjoy this, as always thanks so much for reading. Your comments are always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Don't own them, but have contributed to their libidos…
Walking feels good to her, stretching the sore muscles in her thighs with each stride is dulling the ache. Holding his hand feels odd to her because for all the years they have moved in matching steps down the streets with hands brushing, they have never actually held hands. Olivia tries to recall if she has ever held the hand of anyone other than a child or a victim. She comes up empty and decides that in general this is something she doesn't do. Olivia Benson is not the hand holding type. Men have placed their hands on her back, on her ass and around her waist but none over the years have tried to simply mix their fingers with hers. Until now as Elliot walks beside her with his body in exact rhythm with hers and their hands linked between them. They could be any couple on the street.
The vendor comes into view and she smiles, her face bright with anticipation. They stop in front of the cart and he watches her inhale deeply.
"Smells like Manhattan to me. Hello Leo, how are you?" She smiles at the older man and he suddenly stands a little taller.
"Hey Bella, I'm good, I'm good. Where have you been? I haven't seen you in a long time. No one else comes and buys my orange juice but you." His thick accent makes it hard for Elliot to completely understand him. He's bundled up in dark layers of worn sweats and jackets and the ends of his short fingers stick out of his cut gloves. He winks at Olivia and gives her a crooked grin. Elliot guesses his age at seventy something.
"Leo this is my partner Elliot. Don't let him fool you, El. He only started to carry orange juice because I would ask him for it every day. Now he's sold out all the time. We need four dogs, smothered and smokin' and two waters." Elliot nods to the man, who gives him the once over, his eyes pausing at their locked hands. He flashes a quick mischievous grin before turning his attention back to Olivia.
"When you gonna marry me so I can get off this corner?" He opens the steaming compartments and begins a rapid assembly of the Coney dogs.
"I told you Leo, you're too young and good looking. You'd just break my heart." Elliot tries to tell if her cheeks are rosy from the cold or if she's blushing because he's listening to the exchange. He regretfully lets go of her hand and digs the money out of his pocket to pay the man. Leo hands him the waters and he pulls on his sweatshirt and slides them into the front pocket.
"That's a lot of bull for a woman so beautiful to carry around." He pauses to slide the dogs on the thin metal counter at the front of his cart and takes the money from Elliot. "You come by in the morning and I'll have your juice."
"I'm not back to work yet Leo but I'll let you know when my routines going to begin again. I'll see you in the next few days though, for more of these." She raises a hand with the wrapped foil in it and waves as they walk away. "Elliot, where's your car?" She stops on the street, holding her foil wrapped dogs and looking down the street.
"I parked around the corner on the next block. Remember I was on a mission when I came here." He falls silent because so much has happened between them that now it seems like it was a long time ago that he parked down the street and snuck into her apartment. He shakes his foot midstep to dislodge a candy wrapper that has stuck to his shoe. She falls into step beside him and he realizes that he's never seen her like this, in her life outside of work. There have only been moments of knowledge he has stolen in the thin grey seam where her life and work bleed together. He wonders who else she knows in the neighborhood by name. He's on auto pilot so he approaches her side of the car, hits the lock and opens it without thinking. Olivia stops dead in her tracks.
"Elliot…"
He immediately cuts her off by raising his dog filled hand in a motion of surrender. "It was automatic, it doesn't mean anything. Let's just get in the car and eat our foil wrapped heartburn." He smiles brightly and hopes she'll just let it go. He tries to remember if he's ever opened the door for her before today but his mind can't pull up any information. All he can see is her as his partner running to the car, popping the handle and sliding inside in one fluid motion. She stares at him as he walks to his side of the car and climbs inside. "Come on Liv, our lunch is getting cold."
She gets in and shuts the door harder than she had intended. He starts the car but doesn't put it in gear. He hands her a water and sees her relax a bit. She turns on the heat and begins to unwrap one of her dogs. As he reaches for the shift she puts a hand on his arm.
"Don't drive yet. Let's just sit here and eat."
"In the car outside of your apartment?" She looks away from him and when she looks back she's smiling but her eyes are shadowed with sadness.
"Yeah, just like old times, let's just sit and eat in the car." She's already lifting her dog and taking that first bite. She tilts it to keep from losing the chili on top and makes a humming sound of pleasure that tightens his balls. "I think this is the longest I've gone in my entire life without a Coney dog." She shifts the conversation and it feels so natural to be here with her eating in the car that he lets himself relax. He knows she misses it and he wants to ask her if she's coming back but right now he can't. Right now he doesn't want to know. He watches her lips wrap around the bun and suck softly at the toppings before biting through. The heat is suddenly blowing too hot and the car feels like there is no air in it at all. She looks at him and catches the expression she now understands. "Are you going to eat because I'm warning you, if I finish these and you have any left, they become fair game."
He blushes and tugs at his foil package, watches the wind lift a clear piece of plastic wrap off the ground and send it dancing in the air. It feels like a stake out to him so out of habit he falls into a comfortable silence with her, their eyes searching the streets with no real intent.
Olivia takes in everything, absorbing the flavor of the city. She feels like Oregon washed her clean, too clean, down to a layer of raw skin. She wants to feel like part of this place again, immersed in every sight and sound until her movements echo the pulse of it. Her eyes scan the people walking to work in suits and sneakers with large bags slung over their shoulders and cell phones glued to their ears. There's a man in his twenties leaning against a bin that used to collect mail but now sits unused and covered in graffiti. He looks suspicious in the way that he's examining the crowd and continuously adjusting his beat up army jacket. A woman with spiked blonde hair wearing pale blue sweats and walking five dogs goes by him. He watches her until she turns the next corner and his expression tightens Olivia's stomach. An older man pushing a squeaking grocery cart shuffles toward the corner near the car. She mentally notes a distinguishing feature about each person as she has been trained to do. This one has a scar, a tattoo, a piercing, a limp…it's ingrained in her. She'll always be a cop, see through cops eyes as she looks out on the street. They will never be just people to her; they will always be a perp, a victim, a witness or a bystander. The landscape of the city soothes her, familiar in its hard plains and constant motion. Oregon was too still, too quiet, the sounds of life there were muted and soft, blending into the green and blue stretch of the horizon.
"Hey, I thought you were going to finish that and eat mine. How is it that I'm done before you?" His voice startles her and she turns quickly in his direction.
"That's because you don't chew." She pops the last bite into her mouth and balls up the foil. "Go on and head to your place, I can finish this one on the way." She's opening the second one as she speaks.
"Are you sure, because I'm content to sit and wait for you." He's too warm and his dick is hard but otherwise he's content.
"No that's okay; I'm practically a pro at eating while you drive." He can't contain the grin because that's his partner talking, comfortable, his. It makes him happy to hear that tone from her and yet she technically isn't his partner right now and given the last twenty four hours, she may never be his partner again. He stops, the thought is heavy, weighing him down like a rock tied to the ankle of a drowning man. All he wants to do is breath. He cracks his window and turns his head to try to suck in some cool oxygen. His head is still spinning; he's still sinking into the freezing depths. She may never be his partner again. Part of him may be dying.
"Elliot, are you alright?" She's staring at him with intense scrutiny, a worried look tightening her features. "You look so pale. Talk to me."
He doesn't want to do this now; he knows it's coming but just not now. He needs to think. Seeing her hand still holding the last of her lunch he offers her a weak smile, "maybe I shouldn't have scarfed those two Coneys' quite so fast." He puts the car into gear and pulls out, placing his hand on his stomach for a moment to allow her to believe that's the cause of his distress.
She settles back against her seat, pulls her sunglasses out of her pocket and puts them on before finishing her food. She has emptied her water by the time they reach his apartment and now she just wants him to get the damn door open so she can use the bathroom. She's standing behind him outside the door, rocking onto her toes and back to her heels. He no sooner gets the door open than she slips past him and down the hall. He's smiling, thinking its a little funny until he hears the door click shut and remembers the condition of the bathroom. He throws his dirty clothes into a laundry basket and strips the sheets off the bed trying to distract himself.
Olivia sees the pool of darkness on the floor of the tub and she remembers Elliot telling her about what happened. She's washing her hands and her intent is to leave the room, to let him come and collect the clothes as though she hadn't noticed. She turns around and pulls the curtain back deciding instead that she'll take the clothes to him. The idea of pretending she didn't see them just doesn't feel good to her; they've done enough pretending along the way. The clothing smells a little moldy and is lying in a way that looks like the person in them just melted and disappeared. She pulls at the pile, watching as the stiff material peels away from the smooth porcelain. The bottom of the tub has a pattern on it, thin lines of dried blood that were trapped by the folds of the material. Elliot's blood. The thought brings the taste of chili to the back of her throat and one hand goes reflexively to her mouth. She tucks the clothes under her arm and turns on the water. The need to clean up his blood surges through hers and the sheer force of the urge causes her to rock a step. Her hands feel cold and the tightness in her chest has returned. She tries to take a deep breath but her rib cage won't expand. She's unsure if her vision has become hazy or if it's just the water blurring the lines in the tub as they wash away. Fuck. What the hell is happening to her? Her body is too hot and damp as though the room is filling with steam but the water is on cold. The pain is sharp, sudden and fleeting. Even now with her system screaming she rinses every trace of red down the drain before turning off the water. Her movements are slow. She puts out her hand until she feels the cool tile beneath her palm. She thinks about sitting down but as she's evaluating herself the feeling begins to pass. She forces air into her lungs and despite the weight of the effort, it's still better than a moment ago.
Elliot has packed all the clothes and sheets and thrown a couple bottles of laundry detergent and fabric softener on the pile when he hears the water go on in the bathroom. He straightens immediately. He wants to think there is some bizarre reason why she's showering but even as he tries to pull the thoughts together he know that's not what she's doing. She's rinsing the tub. She's washing all traces of his outburst down the drain and out of sight. He doesn't know how to feel about it. Does she think that if she cleans the tub it'll be as if it never happened? His bruised knuckles taunt him with the truth. She left him and it almost broke him. If she hadn't come back when she did he may very well have self destructed, just exploded from the internal combustion. It would take more than the showerhead to clean him off the walls then. The water shuts off and he carries the baskets to the front door, trying to shake off the darkness that is blanketing his thoughts.
She comes down the hall a second later and without saying a word deposits the clothes with the rest of the laundry. He notes that she looks a bit pale to him but decides to let it go. He's almost angry but when she lifts her gaze to his it dissolves. Her eyes are wide with fright and he decides to try to snap the brittle tension that stretches between them by lightening their mood.
"So since you already cleaned the tub I figured you were taking me up on that offer to clean in a little French maids outfit. We could pick one up for you on the way back to your place. I could knock a few things over so you have something to bend over and clean up." He's grinning by the time he's done because there is no way he can help it, not with that vision of her in his head. He can almost see her, bending over, thigh high nylons giving way to the smooth tan skin on the back of her legs, a handful of her ass dipping below the edges of a silky pair of underwear and a glimpse of pink lips and dark curls as his mind turns the panties crotchless.
It takes her a second to catch up to him but her expression shifts as she does. Her eyes drop to the bulge in his jeans and back to his face were she notes that both his heads are obviously lost in this little fantasy he's creating.
She saunters toward him and places her hand over his growing erection, her dark eyes hold him as they turn almost black, charred by the fire within them. He flinches just slightly, expecting the lecture on what an asshole he can be and slightly concerned for the safety of his dick. "Is that what you want El? For me to dress up in a maid's uniform and let you direct me like we're making a bad porn movie?" His dick lurches in her hand and his eyes grow bright with surprise. She lets loose with an evil little laugh. "I'll take that as a yes." She moves a step closed to him and he can smell her shampoo and lotion and whatever else makes her smell so damn amazing. Her voice drops and purrs out of her throat as she speaks. "Are you going to be the well endowed stud that pushes me up against a piece of poorly dusted furniture and pounds a hard lesson into me?" Her mind flashes back to the bathroom and how he had tried to cool her down with handfuls of water while his thrusting fed the wild fire within her. She can feel her own moisture seeping between her legs and the weight of her breasts as they fill with the desire to be touched by him.
The small knowing smile on her lips almost pushes him over the edge and he blinks slowly, trying to hold on to his sanity. Olivia being sexy was one thing but this Olivia, oozing seduction out every pore, could blow a chastity belt off of a saint. Jesus Christ, he can hardly keep looking at her and yet he knows he will never tear his eyes away. This woman scares him. Armed with only her attitude he's more afraid of her now than he's ever been while she was holding her gun. His chest is heaving deep breaths and he's grazing her breasts with each inhale. His cock has pushed itself to fully erect and she swears she feels it throb beneath her hand.
He has his hands clench into fists, afraid that his fingers if set free, will curl around the edges of her clothing and then just rip them off. If she's playing with him this game is far too dangerous but because it's her he can't back down. His expression is raging hunger and his innocent smile has rearranged itself into a feral grin. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing his cock into her hand and swaying her with the impact. "Yeah, that's pretty much what I had in mind." His voice is so low she's not sure if she heard him or if the vibration of it just sank into her. She closes her eyes and he leans close enough for her to feel his breath against her ear as he speaks. "You know Liv, you could put on any of those little outfits from lacy to leather and I'd be happy to teach you a hard lesson." A small sound escapes her, just the edge of a whimper on her breath. Her hand tightens against him and begins slowly rubbing up and down the material.
"Maybe you'll stop by my apartment one day and I'll be wearing your little outfit but I can promise you I won't be cleaning in it." His hand grabs her wrist and move it to the small of her back as he pulls her against him. His mouth descends on her neck, nipping, swirling and sucking as it moves up to her ear. His teeth scrape her lobe and graze her jaw and her hips buck against him. He backs her up to the wall by the kitchen counter and pushes his thigh between her legs as his lips cover hers. He releases her hand and her arms slide up him and around his neck, her palms cradling the back of his head. She opens her mouth and he snakes his tongue inside, his hands grab her ass and pull her higher onto his thigh where he rocks her hips and grinds against her.
He pauses and peels her shirt over her head before running his hand down her back and pushing it into her jeans. He fits his middle finger between her cheeks, letting the pad of it press against her anus. She rocks hard on him, moaning as the pulling of her jeans in the back forces the front seam against her clit. He drops his head, biting her nipple through the material of her bra. She arches her back and cries out. Her hips pivot hard against him, the teasing pressure from both her ass and her clit somehow too much and still not enough. Her inner muscles pulse, seeking him and the deep throbbing ache is almost unbearable. His lips blow hot moist air against her nipple and then nip again. Her fingers fall to his shoulders and sink into his flesh trying to hold on while she lifts her feet off the floor. She's riding his thigh hard and crying out to him, to god. She tries to tell him she going to come but it's too late, it comes too fast and slams into her before she can speak. Her thighs clamp around his and she pumps in a fierce rapid burst of movement before locking down against him.
As soon as she stills he stands her up and releases her, his hands undoing her pants. He shoves them down and lifts her by the waist, spinning around he sits her on the kitchen table and turns her jeans inside out dragging them down her legs. Her shoes drop to the floor as they come off with everything else. When he stands back up she's tugging roughly while undoing his jeans. His hands are shaking and she's trembling but the frenzied movements continue. His hands go behind her and undo her bra then he whips his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor with the rest. She has his pants pushed down to his knees and he's pushing his way between hers. He rubs the head of his cock along her lips until they part and the wet crest of her is cupping the head of him, her aftershocks trying to suck him inside. She lays back, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. He wraps his hands around her thighs, pushes her legs further apart and plunges into her; the force of it arches her spine and causes her to gasp for air.
God damn it. Just the bulk of him inside her is still a shock, there is hardly enough room left for her to breathe.
They stop then, slowing just a bit and finding each other with their eyes. He presses her legs just a bit further apart and she answers him by tipping her hips up until she can feel his balls bump against her ass. She wants him to move, to drive so hard the heat melts the aching within her. She lets go of the table with one hand and cups her own breast, rolling her nipple between her fingers just the way she likes it. She feels his hands tighten on her thighs and then the shift in his weight as he begins to move. He pulls out slowly and then pushes just the head back in, pulsing it at her entrance. She moans in yearning and frustration, raising her hips higher to try to push into him. He fills her just the second she thinks she'll lose her mind. She feels so full with him buried in her like this, so whole. Like the last piece of a puzzle has dropping into place and the picture has suddenly become clear. She owns this piece of him for these few moments and her body clenches down to hold on.
Nothing in his entire life has prepared him to feel like this. There isn't a word for it but he knows that every time he enters her he feels it rise out of his center and consume him. As he watches her touch herself he growls a low moan and pumps with force, the sound of them slaps to life, filling the room. He desperately wants to touch her but he can't let go, not yet because she's making a sound he's never heard before, a pitch clawing its way out of her. He looks down, staring at his thick cock soaked in her wetness moving in and out of her. Her folds suction around him, squeezing in protest as he slides out and stroking in invitation as he slides in and the sight of it, knowing that it's his Olivia is more than he can bear. He increases his speed until his thighs are burning and her body arches off the table. He's blindly pounding into her and somewhere in his head a voice whispers that he has lost control. They both cry out as her muscles seize tightly around his cock, so tightly that for a second he can't move. She releases him and he slams into her once more, the force driving her up the table a few inches, loosening her grip. He's coming in powerful hot surges inside her, his body rocked by the searing jolts shooting through him. She's clenched like a pulsing vise around him and even after he knows he has emptied himself deep inside her, his body keeps pushing his cock in response to her twitching walls. Small shocks of pleasure keep surging through her and her legs begin to tremble. He slowly eases them down and despite the heat pouring off of their bodies he pulls her up until she's sitting on the edge of the table and holds her tightly against him.
Her eyes are closed and her chest is heaving with her short breaths. She can still see him behind her clenched lids, looking down between her legs to watch himself thrusting into her. The expression on his face and the image of what he was seeing increased her excitement to an impossible intensity. When he moved with the sudden burst of speed inside her she couldn't hold on any longer and her orgasm exploded within her. Even the mental replay causes her body to clench with more effort than it has, sending a slightly painful twinge through her. Elliot's chest rises with a sharp intake of breath beneath her cheek and his hand begins moving in long calming strokes down her back.
She had never engaged in that kind of verbal foreplay with anyone and the intensity of it surprised her. It's because it's Elliot and they always had that natural rhythm and bantering between them. Even as she thinks it she's divided in her feelings between terror and excitement. Her muscles cinch one more time and he kisses the top of her head.
"You okay?" His voice sounds like it's coming from far away.
"Yeah." It comes out softer than she intended or maybe it just seems that way with his heart pounding in her ear. He tips his hips back and she feels his cock leave her with a soft wet touch. "We have to get a grip El."
"I think you have a pretty good grip already." She realizes then that her hands are tight where she's clenching his shoulders and she relaxes her grip, wiggles her fingers. She smiles. Her hearing is better and his hand on her back is slowing her down. She sits up, pulling away from him enough to look up and see his face.
"If you think all this means I'm helping you with that laundry when we get to my place you're sadly mistaken." His laugh spills from him and his hand stills on her back. He thinks that if this is the result of her cleaning the tub he's a little afraid to ask for her help with laundry. Who would have thought domestic chores could be so sexy.
"So, I'm doing laundry, shopping with you for groceries and cooking dinner? I'm feeling a little like a man slave."
Her eyes move slowly up and down him in a way that makes his thighs clench and his breathing slow. "You would do as a man slave and you don't even need a costume for that, I already have handcuffs. Now there's a game I might play." Her smile is absolutely wicked.
His eyes darken with the thoughts flashing through but he manages a small laugh. He lets himself imagine for just a second what being under her complete control would be like for him. She would be without mercy and visions of both heaven and hell crash through his head.
Her hand reaches around and pats his ass. "You're too easy. Come on El, this day is slipping away from us. Let's get going." She has returned to herself and he pulls up his jeans and steps back from her as she carefully scoots off the table. "What are you making for dinner?" The words leave her mouth naturally but feel so unnatural to her that the ambiguity swims in her brain.
"I don't know. Do you have a taste for anything? Spaghetti? Salmon? Lemon chicken? Steaks? Burgers? I'm pretty versatile in the kitchen." She arches a suggestive eyebrow at him and his grin widens. "Liv…"
"Let me think about it on the way there. We'll see what looks good." It's too corny to tell her that she does, even for him. She picks up her jeans and is turning the legs back to right side out as he picks up the other pieces of discarded clothing. He wonders what part of him thinks it's normal to stand in his kitchen with a naked Olivia and discuss what they're going to have for dinner. It's impossible for him to grasp that this is his life, even for the moment. They have never gone grocery shopping together. They've stopped at the corner store for beer of snack on the way to her house once or twice but nothing like this. He always bought whatever Kathy told him to buy and still buys the same thing now when he shops for himself. He suddenly doesn't want that to be obvious so he decides to let Olivia take the lead when they get there. Grocery shopping seems like an odd thing to make him a little nervous and yet somehow it does. They both finish dressing there in the middle of the kitchen before she ducks back into the bathroom.
When she comes out he steps in and throws a few things into a bag which he drops on top of the laundry. He slings a bag over his shoulder and lifts the basket. She pulls the large container of liquid detergent off the top and carries it in one hand while she pulls the door open. She hears his voice come from behind her in a low whisper as they move down the hall.
"So, you'd play manslave..."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOtbc…
There you guys go, I hope you enjoyed it, now on to the grocery store in the next chapter. Let me hear your thoughts.