A/N: Tis the sequel to, "Love is Not a Victory March." There are sexy tiems, you have been warned.
"Do you love him?"
His voice comes as a surprise, her key already turning in the lock and she pauses momentarily before slowly turning to meet his steely blue gaze.
"What?" she asks eyes narrowed at him, her skin prickling, the memory of their kiss imprinted on her tongue.
He stalks towards her, the familiarity of his footsteps now an annoyance instead of comfort, "Does he make you happy"
"Go to hell"
Before he can even process it he's following her into the door of her apartment as she attempts to swing it shut on him. She spins around, her eyes darkened, narrowed, "Get out of my apartment Elliot"
"No"
The careful line they had constructed over thirteen years had crumbled in that alley and he knew there was no going back this time. Now he has the choice to fight to create something from the ruins or grind it to dust and let it slip through his fingers.
OoO
Her blood courses through her veins, flushing her skin, her fists curled at her sides, "You can't just show up here after months, kiss me in the middle of my date and expect me to just welcome you with open arms"
She watches his mouth flail and she continues, her words striking his skin like acid, "Do I love him? There are things I love about him. I love that he's not married, that he wants a future with me, that he talks about taking vacations in Connecticut, how he effortlessly grabs my hand as we walk through a crowd, how he doesn't drive me so fucking insane that I can't breathe or think"
"Liv"
The dam has broken and the river rages and she can't stop the words, thirteen years of love and hate bursting forth and enveloping them, "So are you asking if I love him, or if I love him more than I love you? Because, let me tell you, I'm happy, he makes me happy…he loves me, and yet every moment I'm with him, I wish it were you, how fucked up is that?"
There are tears falling down her face, the last syllable hanging in the air between them and all he wants to do is take her in his arms, swipe the tears and tell her it's going to be okay…he's going to fix them.
A deep escapes her chest, "Go Elliot, just go"
But he doesn't move, he simply stands there, unable to tear his gaze away from her. She steps forward, hands on his chest and pushes, "Go"
He grabs her wrists, gently enough to restrain without hurting her, "Liv"
"Go, damn it, leave" her fists slap against his chest and he's letting her blows hit him, trying to feel something other than the way his heart is limping to beat in his chest.
When she slows, her eyes lift up to meet his and it's unstoppable, the way his mouth leans in to crash upon hers, the gnashing of teeth, suckling of lips, her arms coming around him as his wind in her hair, their bodies pressed flushed…hard and soft, cold and warm.
OoO
The kiss is hard, their tongues dueling for control, her hands sliding under his jacket, their bodies melding together as one. He backs her over towards the couch, the backs of her knees hitting the armrest as she pulls away, "We can't" she says panting and shaking her head.
"Liv"
This is the point of no return, they both know it. Anything beyond this point will propel or destroy but he can't turn back. He can no longer forget the way her body feels pressed against him, the shape of her tongue, the satin of her lips between his teeth.
"Tell me to stop" he whispers.
OoO
There is a flicker in his eyes, when they deepen to cobalt and she swallows hard, knowing she should tell him to get the fuck out of her apartment, lose her number, ignore her like he did all those months before this. But she's can't.
This love, it might be wrong, but it's all she knows. The highs, the lows, the intense way it consumes them both, it's like nothing she has ever felt before, and in her heart she realized long ago she would follow him into hell if that's where he chose to go.
Her legs wrap around him and pull him closer and she watches his Adam's apple bob as he licks his lips and leans down to kiss her again.
It's softer this time, a gentle graze at first, slow, exploratory, wanting to savor the way she tastes at this very moment, when the words were no longer needed to show each other exactly what they both had realized long ago.
Fingertips play at the hem of her shirt, before his hand is grazing the exposed patch of skin where it had ridden up, hot flesh searing the rough pads of his fingers, and he knows that he will never forget that first touch.
Slowly he slides up, hearing her soft moan die in his throat, their tongues sliding together, as his hand reaches her ribcage, his thumb slipping gently on the underside of her breast pushing upwards until it's swiping over her hardened nipple.
OoO
She almost wishes she wasn't as affected by his touch, by his kiss, because she can feel herself throbbing from the minimal contact they've shared. When his finger grazes her nipple she arches, whimpers into his mouth, and then she feels his hand close around her.
Her legs instinctually wrap around his, pulling him closer, needing more, her mouth sliding from his down to his throat, suckling over the hollow as he begins to caress and massage her breast through her bra.
OoO
Pulling back he looks at her, and her own hands come to the hem of her shirt and she pulls it over her head, reaching behind to unsnap her bra. His own hands meet hers, pulling it slowly away from her, letting inch by inch be revealed to him.
It's as if he's been wandering in the desert for thirteen years and stumbling onto an oasis. His eyes drink her in, her nipples are swollen, richly colored, and he leans down, holding one in his hand and bringing his mouth around it. His lips close around the areola and he sucks long and slow until just the nub is between his lips.
Her hands slide to his head, nails raking down his scalp and he continues to suckle and tug gently at the swollen pebbled buds, alternating between the two until they are both shining in his saliva and sharp.
OoO
His mouth, his hands, the feel of his body this closer to her is close to driving her insane, she wants more, needs more, "El"
When he pulls away his eyes are glazed with lust, wide and locked on her, "Please" is all she is able to whimper out.
Large hands reach under her ass and he's pulling her around him, legs wrapped around his waist, her arms wrapped around his neck, their mouths crashing together as he moves through the apartment to the back bedroom.
They stumble through the door and he gently places her down on the bed, ripping his jacket off, pulling his shirt over his head, and then coming over her, chest to chest, nose to nose.
The first touch is electric and her hands fumble to the button on his jeans and she pulls unsnapping, thrusting them down over his hips, his own hand helping to push them down his legs, his free hand coming to her pants, slowly tugging them down. He pulls back, clad in black boxer briefs, and he lets his eyes rove over her, the flushed skin, her chest rising and falling, lips bruised from kissing and he's not sure he's ever laid eyes on anything more beautiful.
His thumbs hook in the waistband of her panties and he pulls them down her long bronzed legs, standing with his knees touching the bed as he pulls his own boxers down, painfully hard.
OoO
He's built like a Greek god, like one of those sculptures she's seen in art history books and she wraps her legs around the backs of his thighs and pulls her back down to him. She can feel herself dripping, pulsing as their bodies touch. His eyes meet hers, and she can feel him prodding at her entrance, pushing inside of her.
Coming home.
OoO
The moment she encases him, he stills himself, just enjoying the way she clenches around him, the heat radiating through his cold and weary bones. Their eyes are still locked on each other, cobalt and cappuccino, and he leans in to kiss her gently as he begins to move inside of her.
He's torn by the urge to dive inside of her and the part of him that want this to last as long as possible…because if this is the last time…
It's slow and deep, each stroke meaning something, the words of his mouth and the meditations of his heart, pushed inside of her with everything he hasn't found the will to reveal.
Her hands slide down his back, her legs locked around him pulling him in, and he holds onto her so tightly like he's afraid if he loosens his grip, this will be another dream that he wakes up in a sheen full of sweat alone in the guest room.
Their bodies move together in a staccato rhythm, synchronized breathing, hearts beating together, every thrust matched by her arching into him, a perfected dance of two puzzle pieces coming back together.
Whimpers die in his mouth, on his neck, and she can tell she's close and he needs it, he needs to feel her shudder and shake under him, against him, "El" she whispers and then she cries out, clenching on him, spurring his own release deep in her.
After he rests against her, face buried in her neck, close to tears, "I love you Olivia" he whispers knowing it's the only promise he can make right now.
OoO
She swallows hard, feeling him stain her thighs…permeate her soul and she mouths the words, "I love you too"