A/N-These next two chapters are short so I figured I'd give the readers two chapters to chew on instead of one. Again, thanks for reviewing and reading.
Last week it was next to impossible to even be near Elliot after we were left alone in the precinct in a last ditch effort to get another kiddie diddler off the streets. I went to the washroom to freshen up in order to not look as if I was one step from collapsing on the floor in exhaustion after going fifteen hours at this guy in an effort to get a confession. While washing the water onto my face I saw his jacket coming into the washroom. I started laughing in response thinking he must be in the wrong washroom.
"Hey, El', come on! This is the ladies room, hence the lack of standing urinals and the 25 cent tampon dispensing machine." But he hardly stopped moving and if anything he covered the ground with impressive speed and covered my mouth all in one impossible motion. I struggled at first with half-hearted efforts to get him off me but I knew that he was much stronger.
While Elliot kept his other hand busy trying to restrain my mouth his other hand was busy trying to touch every part of my body all at once. I could feel my heart start to race in response to his attentions; my left hand grasped the cool stone counter of the faucet in a last minute effort to retain my balance as I subconsciously pushed my body back up against him. My right hand was less decisive about where it should be, at first it was holding onto the hand Elliot had clasped around my mouth but as his other hand started to descend lower and lower down my body I found myself moving my hand down to meet his. When he felt my hand reach his, Elliot's whole body seized up like his hand was allergic to my touch but he quickly continued the journey to his inevitable goal.
In all of my fantasies, my eyes were closed from the extreme amount of pleasure I would be receiving or they were locked onto Elliot's like a drowning victim to a lifeline but now that I was actually in the situation I found myself focusing onto those teasing fingers finding every part of my body that I normally kept to myself. This was my one moment to experience the Elliot I would never have, the Elliot that was just a figment of my boundless sexual imagination. To close my eyes from that image would prevent me from burning this one time into my mental soul for further replay and analysis at a later date.
We were truly a picture of erotic bliss; the vision of the two of us gyrating back and forth on a washroom counter like a bunch of teenagers in hormonal heat would have been a great snapshot for my collection…if I had such a collection.
No longer were my hands just passive participants in this centuries old tug of war between man and woman. My left hand had left the comfortable perch of the countertop and was trying to help Elliot in his effort to open my pants to allow him to have access to a place where few men have had such open access (I slept with Bradley with the lights off, the only article of clothing off my body was my shirt, and during the whole process I was practically directing him like Steven Spielberg. His access to my body was severely limited to say the least.). If I knew that this was going to happen today I would have gone to work in athletic shorts (Yes, I would have gotten my share of looks but…fuck that, I was going to have Elliot fucking me in next eighteen hours. Getting the looks would have been totally worth it.). With a couple of quiet sighs and whimpers, I had finally gotten him to the right spot without even having to readjust my clothing in any way. His hand clasped on my mouth loosened slightly and I let out a long and loud groan as a result. With a slight laugh, Elliot moved his now unneeded hand from my mouth to my neck. His aggressive clutches on my neck forced my body to seek further contact with the lower half of his body and with a shocked exhale I felt the defined ridges of his erection through his work trousers.
I couldn't believe he wanted this as much as I did at the time. I could feel myself groaning as I fell back to his firm embrace. Elliot not only wanted her but was willing to show it at any time, even if that meant finding some alone time in the squad washroom while they were supposedly getting a perp to confess. And as soon as that thought crossed my mind I felt myself falling backward onto the welcoming frigid embrace of the tile floor. My mind was wiped clean of all details except for the monochromatic flecks of tile as they began to swirl and twist together on the floor like a carnival ride on infamous rides from my childhood with names like, "Thriller" and "Tilt-A-Whirl."
Somewhere in this process I must have let out a loud groan of distress because next thing I know I saw Elliot racing into the washroom for a second time. "Olivia? What the- Why the hell are you on the floor? Are you alright? You obviously need to sleep, 'Liv. I can't have you slipping around while I'm trying to get this pervert off the streets."
"What are you talking about, Elliot? You were just in here, weren't you? I remember you being in here and doing…things to me," I grab his shirt from his pants and can feel myself looking up at him pleadingly. "Please…please don't tell me I just imagined this."
Elliot looks at me quizzically but after his eyes slowly start to take in my mussed up hair, my flushed expression, and disheveled clothes with my pants buttoned down and I felt myself turn red in embarrassment. I raced into one of the stalls and thankfully he understood the message and left without asking me any embarrassing questions. These fantasies of mine are becoming even more problematic now because they are no longer fantasies safely lodged in my subconscious.
After what had happened in the squad washroom Elliot never once mentioned anything after I resumed the interrogation. Thank goodness for small miracles. But there was always this overwhelming sense of…edginess between the two of them now. I'm constantly embarrassed around him and Elliot's uncomfortable because I'm uncomfortable.
What's stopping this from happening again during this police conference weekend? If it does…I won't have the luxury of running away like I did that night in the precinct. I'll have to confront the problem head on, whether I would like to or not.