A/N: Months later I finally wrote that second chapter. Sorry?

Don't like Bensidy, don't read because while they're not my EO, I can still hang with them.

All mistakes are mine because I have a knack for updating at 1 in the morning.

Lots of f-bombs and sexual references, nothing too gratuitous, tho.

Disclaimer: Don't own nada.

She takes her clothes off and she says

'is it alright if i stay the night?'

Don't remember what I said

Is it alright?

-Unhappy, Thriving Ivory

/2013/

Her night is a mixture of déjà vu and nostalgia, paired dangerously with much-needed shots of tequila, and an all too familiar face.

His expression is the same; bewilderment and wonder, but his boyish innocence that once attracted her has all but dissipated. Its been replaced by rough stubble and hardened eyes. Years of undercover work are etched into the creases of his forehead and the laugh lines that form around his mouth as he smiles.

She can't decide if age has made him more or less attractive, but knows that the answer is the latter when it comes to herself.

Much like him she's changed too; she's tired and disgusted with the world. No matter how many victims she saves, she knows there will always been another, always another bad guy ready to take up the helm of abuse.

Endless hours – days – she spends trying to decide if it's worth it anymore. Now she knows why Elliot fantasized about killing child molesters. She's been fighting monsters so long that pretty soon she's knows she'll become one.

Olivia licks the salt on the back of her hand, sucks on the slice of lime, and then slams her fourth shot of tequila of the night. The burning sensation creates a buzzing in her head and for a moment she can hear her mother's voice, demanding that a young Olivia bring her another bottle of wine. She shakes the echo and sets the glass back down on the counter.

He follows suit, and hisses at the burn, grinning as he leans towards her, nuzzling her neck. Against her tan skin, he breathes a wanton sigh of lust, and his lips graze her pulse point.

Before she knows what she's doing, she's already flagged down the barmaid, paid for her drinks, and is outside, hand in hand with Brian, and hailing a cab.

Together they stumble through the threshold of her apartment, and Olivia slams the door behind them. She turns to find Brian standing directly in front of her, his eyes black with desire. Her breath hitches, and she licks her lips mere milliseconds before his lips crash down on hers. He tangles his right hand in her hair and grips the back of her head, and with his left hand he begins to roam the shapely curves of her body. He takes a step forward, until his left knee is separating her legs, his thigh pressed against her pelvis, and her back is pressed against the wood of her front door.

Olivia's body responds before her mind has a chance to consider the situation. Her hands find their way to his hair as he pulls on the dark strands; she moans into his mouth, every inch of her on fire. She has been fucked since the night David walked out on her and she needs this – she needs him. The feeling begins to build in her stomach then, and the wetness pools between her legs. She's so fucking turned on right now that if he moves his thigh a little to the left she's certain she'll cum.

His tongue runs across hers, and she can taste the mixture of tequila and salt that hangs on his tongue. She drops her hands to his neck and her manicured nails scrape against the sensitive skin soliciting a hiss from him.

"Bri," she moans into his mouth as his left hand reaches for the belt buckle holding her black slacks up.

He pulls back, that stupid shit-eating grin plastered on his face; the same grin he'd had on his face when they'd been in this position nearly fourteen years ago.

"Eager, aren't we?" He laughs, his breath hot as he slips his hand into her slacks and rubs the bundle of tender nerves begging for his attention.

Olivia's hips jolt forward and she tries to clamp her thighs shut around his hand, but his leg is stopping her. She just needs a release, a fucking release, and if she could just run –

He laughs again, watching as she stretches like a cat in heat, rubbing against his hand. His nonchalance at having her, pants unbuckled, body pressed against the door, and quite ready to be fucked, yet doing nothing is starting to drive her mad.

"Will you shut the hell up and fuck me?" She grates, thinking that two can play this game. Dropping her hands from his neck, she rakes them down his torso and just brushes her hand against the bulge in his jeans. Now his hips jolt forward and a terse hiss leaves his lips. He catches her wrist with his free hand pins it to the door; his other hand moves in painfully slow circles, his fingers rubbing against her clit, and she can feel herself slowly but surely unraveling.

"Bri, fuck me." She demands, anger and frustration masked by a moan as he choses precisely that moment to increase the pace of his rubbing.

Olivia's knees buckle in that moment and she slips down door; Brian's leg stops her from falling to floor. Her eyes are dark and her breathing is heavy. The alcohol in her is telling her that she can't wait much longer and she's fed up with his teasing. She's about two seconds from tossing him out the front door and finishing herself.

"Fuck –" She's not afforded the chance of finishing her sentence because he has her then, tossed over his shoulder like a rag doll and he's carrying her over to the couch where he deposits her. She crawls onto her knees and he stands in front of her. Thankful that he hadn't chosen her bedroom – there's too much intimacy in fucking in a bed, she begins to unbutton her blouse as Brian pulls his sweater over his head. She's three buttons in, when the fabric is ripped from her body; buttons fly everywhere.

Shocked, she looks at him, before hissing, "that was a new shirt."

"Don't care." And then his hands are everywhere, trailing up her shoulders, down them, around her back and to her bra clasp. His mouth nips at her clavicle and then down her chest, in between her breasts as he pulls the black lacy fabric from her chest.

Olivia reaches for his belt buckle then, ignoring the way his eyes linger on her chest because suddenly she feels exposed and vulnerable and fuck it all to hell. She just wants him to fuck her into oblivion until she's undone at the seams and begging for more. She doesn't want his appreciative gaze or soft fingers; she wants him rough touch and calloused hands yanking at her, clawing at her painful and viscerally.

His buckle is undone and she's pushing down both his jeans and boxers before leaning forward, seizing his mouth in hers. She bites down on his bottom lip and draws the faintest taste of blood, grinning at his moan; satisfied that she's still got it.

He steps out of his pants and boxers, and Olivia pulls her legs out from underneath her, planting her feet on the ground as she does the same.

It's a mixture of limbs as they fall back against the couch, Olivia on her back as Brian positions himself between her legs. His mouth is hot and wet as his lips suck on her pulse point and she digs her nails into his forearms. She's going to have to wear a turtleneck tomorrow with how many times he's sucked her neck raw.

And there it is again, déjà vu. The way he's looking at her when he pulls back, and she can see his brown eyes in the dim light stare at her. It's the ghost of a decade's old broken heart staring at her.

"You always were beautiful, Liv." He whispers and she turns away. She can feel him between her legs, not yet inside her, and she's hot and wet; ready to go, though something inside of her tells her to stop this - stop them before they fail to start, again. But she doesn't want to because when he turns her chin back to him, and then their eyes meet; she sees someone that wants to take her pain away.

"Bri, just shut up and fuck me before I decide I have better things to do." Olivia's voice falters as she attempts her hand at sarcasm, though she finds his words unnerving and she wants to scream at him. She wants to yell that she's become a storm living inside of skin, plagued by monsters yearning to break free and cause havoc.

He just laughs, nodding as he brings his lower body into contact with hers in one strong stoke. She's moaning and breathing heavy as her nails dig into back, drawing blood; her mind instantly clear and focuses solely on the feeling he's giving her.

They go three rounds before Olivia's absolutely spent; her head nuzzled into his chest as he strokes her hair lazily.

She thinks maybe, just maybe she can get used to him – to something old and familiar in a world she no longer knows and figures she never really did.