Summary: After a fight Elliot and Olivia each release tension in the precinct showers. A smutty little one-shot.
AN: This takes place at an unspecified time in 1.0. So depending on your preference, this could be a cheating fic or it is not a cheating fic. Put in whatever context you want.
I wanted to write something based on last week's episode and the promo, but this came out instead. (Inspired by the recent Wet Dream fic on AO3) Maybe I'll be able to get something about out before Thursday, but I'm not sure. See you all on the other side. Fingers crossed for a kiss!
No beta, as always.
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.
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Olivia stands in the square stall in the precinct locker room washing the horrible day off her skin. She avoids these showers when she can. They are old, the pressure is bad, and between the random flushing of toilets and other showers, the hot water isn't consistent. Not to mention that despite the increase of women on the force in the last couple of decades, men and women shared a locker room and showers at the 1-6. It's not a big deal, but it's just enough to make Olivia wait until she returns home to shower most days.
But today was a bad day. Really it had been a horrible few days. After another fight with Elliot that resulted in them exchanging "Fuck you!" and "No, fuck you!" and her storming out of an interrogation room. She needed to cool off, clean up, and rest for a little while.
Neither of them was going home anytime soon. They were in the middle of interrogating multiple suspects to a gang rape and searching for several potential victims. It was a tense case that had all hands-on deck and their nerves fried.
Squeezing shampoo from the dispenser on the wall, Olivia turns her back to the spray and lathers her hair. This was another reason she'd usually wait—the precinct 2-in-1 shampoo was not good for her hair.
One more reason just walked in the room.
In her haste to clean up she didn't make sure her curtain was closed, and she can see Elliot standing at his locker across from the stalls in the small opening. She could tell his body is still tight with anger. Elliot's movements were tense as he pulls out his gym bag and towel. He throws his tie into the small locker, pulling his shirt over his head with a tug, after only unbuttoning the top buttons. She can see the muscles in his back work, bulging and flexing as he pushes his pants down his hips and kicks his shoes off.
When he turns towards the showers, she sees him standing there in his stupid briefs. Not boxers. And not boxer briefs. No, he wears small, low-rise briefs. Not even your regular Hanes from a superstore. She's seen him in them a couple times before and each time they surprise her. Today's pair is green, and they sit low on his hips. And right where a tick band would typically be, she sees a tuft of dark curls. And if she strains, she swears she can see the outline of him behind the soft green fabric.
She hates how the view of him causes her heart to beat faster and blood to race through her veins. It always happens. Olivia has never been able to lie to herself, deny her attraction to him. She'd hoped that over the years it would wane. But every day they spend together, she falls a little more. As he ages, he becomes more and more attractive. Most of the time she can calm herself, take a deep breath and force her attraction into a small box, for it down, hide it, ignore it. Not today.
Olivia also hates to admit that she's done this a few times at the precinct. Let her hands wander her body softly, squeezing and touching, breathing deeply to just feel. The few times it's happened before were on days much like this one. Long and hard. Days she needs to relieve stress. Sometimes it's an emotional case that takes everything from her, or a brutal fight with Elliot, or she just needs the last push to fall asleep on the uncomfortable crib beds.
Usually she can stop herself, but she's too tired and too tired of fighting the temptation of seeking pleasure at thoughts of him. Today was already a fucking fight. She and Elliot had disagreed all day, on everything. From the route to the suspect's house to the interrogation approach and the guilt of several suspects. They bickered and grumbled. And as time wore on, fatigue overwhelmed them, stress riling them up, and too much time together, they clashed, and eventually exploded.
They knew that there was generally a time limit on their days. Their typical eight-hour days were perfectly fine. They could even handle ten, sometimes eleven hours together. But beyond that, their pull becomes too strong. They struggle to fight against what they feel, to keep themselves as just partners and friends. As their minds and bodies wear down, they turn to fighting one another. A subconscious effort to keep the distance when they both want to crash so hard into each other that they are never forced to separate.
Elliot's walking towards the stalls when he sees her through the small gap between the curtain and stall wall. On the few occasions that Olivia showers here, he waits until she's done. But he has a two-day stink on him. And Cragen just ordered him to the cribs after he stomped from the interrogation room, kicking a trash can, and snapping at Fin. Maybe he should have waited in the cribs, but he knew he'd fall asleep without showering and he needed to clean up. Showering now was the only option and he wasn't in the mood to give her anything extra, even the privacy of an empty locker room.
He can see her moving, catching only glimpses of her. He knows it's an invasion and he's married. But his eyes are glued on the shadows of her movements and bits of skin he can see. It's not much, an elbow and hip bone, and wet brown hair. It's enough though, more than he's ever been graced to see before.
Briefly he begins to think about seeking out more skin, but the thought causes both his guilt and dick to rise. He steps into the stall next to Olivia and drops his briefs at the edge of the shower, just out of the water line. He's got a clean pair, but Kathy always hates when he forgets wet clothes in his gym bag.
The water comes on slowly and cold as he turns the knob. Olivia picked the stall with the best water pressure and quickest warm up time. He waits a moment before standing under the water and looks around. The stalls are square, but deep enough, and he's surrounded by large square brinks, a pale yellow. With the curtains at the end, privacy was decent. He can recall the open showers in high school and the even worse ones in the military. Between this job and his time in the military, she's seen too many dicks in his life.
To avoid those thoughts, he lets his mind return to Olivia in the shower next to him. He knows he needs to apologize. He'd lost his temper again. He lashed out at her again. But he's still frustrated enough that he won't apologize until tomorrow. And he knows that this frustration is going to make sleeping impossible. If he wants to get his two hours, he's going to have to give himself some assistance, quietly.
It wouldn't be the first time he's jacked off in these showers. No, he's done it more times than he'd ever admit. But sometimes the job becomes too much. Really, it's working with Olivia. There are only so many times he can listen to her say things like "masturbation," "sex," "penis," or "semen." Even though they are hyper technical terms, it makes his mind wonder what her lips would look like saying "cock," "cum," and "pussy." And those thoughts never fail to turn him on. And there are only so many squats and presses a man can do in a day to relieve tension in his body.
It was worse when they first started working together. She was so new, attractive, and full of fire, and he could barely keep himself from reacting. As the time passed his self-control increased. He grew used to her beauty and attitude but fell deeper and deeper for her. And he doesn't have the effort to fight off his desires. His body was too fatigued to deny his want for her.
Elliot can feel himself grow fully erect now. And he can't will it away. He reaches for himself, his fingers loosely surrounding his cock and tugging gently. He knows this is wrong. Olivia is right there. But for some reason that thought makes him harder. He tightens his fist and pulls a little harder, rotating his hand as he works over his head. The little bit of strength he has left in his body was going to be used to keep quiet.
He fails immediately.
A deep groan escapes from his lips.
Olivia's own hands freeze when she hears him. Her two fingers hover above his clit. Her other hand still held her breast, but she released her nipple.
He sounded like he was hurt, maybe having stubbed his two on the corner of the stall.
She doesn't know what to do. It would be awkward to ignore him. She clearly heard him, and she always came to his aid, no matter how angry she was with him.
"El, are you okay?"
She hates how breathless she sounds. She's not quite near orgasm yet, but she's aroused and wet. Her nipples are still hard and begging for attention. Her body was wound too tight to stop this process, she needed a release.
"Yea…'m good."
She could tell his voice wasn't steady either. The water from the showers were not loud enough to drown out their voices, which echoed off the tile. But with his assurance, she returned to her own needs. Her fingers moving up and down and then in a tight circle, hastily chasing what she needs.
Elliot's eyes widened. He didn't realize how gravely his voice would be when he answered. He hoped that she'd just think he was tired. He knew, though, that Olivia was familiar with his tired drawl, and this was not it.
Then, he realized that she didn't sound tired either. She sounded breathless; her words strained. He focuses his ears on listening beyond the water. He hears a whimper. It's stifled. Maybe her teeth are gritted, or a fist is in her mouth, holding back something from him.
Elliot loosens his grip and coughs, trying to steady his voice before asking, "Are you okay?"
She answers with a soft, "Yes."
It wasn't convincing. He knew right then what she was doing. He's not exactly sure how he knew, but he did.
His mind raced. Was she really? Did she do that? Of course, she did. But here?
He felt like a fucking hypocrite with his own hand on his cock. And he wanted to see her. He wanted to confirm what he knew to be true. He had to see how she touched herself. But the walls were too high. And she would slap him if he peeked at her through the curtain.
Then he heard her again, another soft whimper. And he was drawn to her, like magnets pull them together. Moving without his own consent, he left his stall and pulled back the curtain to her stall.
Olivia knew the risk of answering him. Her voice was not going to be clear or strong. She wasn't going to be able to hide her actions from him. And she wasn't sure she wanted to. So, when she heard his curtain open, she closed her eyes and waited.
He sees her leaning against the wall, the water hitting her on her mid-thigh. Her eyes barely opening to look him up and down before closing again.
That was all the permission he needed. He took another step in and closed the curtain fully behind his back.
Elliot had a full view of her body. The expansive smooth, tan skin. Her hand covered her center, only a small bit of dark hair visible as her fingers moved. He could see one breast, heavy and fully, her dark nipple peaked and waiting. Her other breast was cupped in her hand, her fingers pulling.
At the sound of rings of her curtain sliding along the rung, closing, hiding them from view, Olivia opened her eyes again and let them roam his body. His chest strong, flushed red and heaving, dark hair sprinkled across his pecs and filling in as it covered his belly. His strong arm flexing, veins popped out, as he tugs on his cock, thick and straining. She lets her eyes find each of his tattoos, from the small butterfly next to his fist, the Marines emblem on his arm hanging by his side, and the Christ on his shoulder, no doubt judging their actions.
They don't speak, both afraid of breaking the silent agreement between them and ushering reality back in. But as another low moan is released from her, Elliot takes two small steps deeper into the stall. He stands in front of her, and leans back against the opposite wall, the tile cold against his back.
Their movements increase at a matched pace as the seconds tick by. Always in sync. They'd never crossed this line before and subconsciously, they knew that they'd never do it again. This was the only time this would happen and they'd never speak a word of it when they were done.
Their eyes met briefly before they returned their gaze to the other's body. Watching each other touching themselves, feeling pleasure bloom, seeking a release in this dirty precinct shower. At this moment they were granting each other permission to take their fill, see everything they had always wanted and hear sweet noises that were reserved for lovers.
They build up together. Their hands moving faster, their breathing growing more desperate. Recklessly, they let their sounds fill the space. His soft grunts barely audible over the slap of his skin. Her faint moans running on, one following the other. Olivia's fingers rub faster and pinch and pluck harder before a hand runs up over her throat and back down to her belly and hip.
She's close, she can feel it building, simmering, ready to be set free. Olivia locks eyes with Elliot and this time she doesn't look away.
Boldly he takes a step forward, his hand slaps at the wall next to her head. Olivia gasps, eyes widen in surprise. She can feel the air disrupted near her belly as his fist moves again and again. He licks his lips and can feel himself jerk. He's close, but he doesn't want to be. He doesn't want this to end, but he can't fight it anymore.
He comes first, his eyes close and he groans deeply as he shoots his release onto her low belly. The sight of his cum on her skin and look on his face as he succumbs to his pleasure triggers her own orgasm. It's stronger than she'd expected, and her knees fall out from under her. Elliot leans in, catching her under her armpits and pulls her tightly into his chest. Wet, hot skin meets, his cum mixing between them on their heaving bellies.
Olivia lets him hold her while she regains her breath, her nose brushing against his neck. She can feel his heart pounding against her own chest.
Still, they don't speak. This contact didn't break their sacred space, but any words, especially any of regret, would shatter this moment. It would wreck them both. Force them to accept what they'd just done and usher in all their anger and other repressed emotions. So, they just stand there, breathing one another in as they calm and let their anger from the day wash down the drain.
She takes one more deep breath and steps back, pulling away. His arms drop and with one last look and a small, defeated grin, he turns and leaves her stall. She turns back into the spray and rinses him from her skin.
Olivia is the first to finish and leave the showers. Elliot sees her half-dressed as he returns to his own locker. He's stepping into his pants as he watches her leave silently for the cribs.
Five minutes later he finds her laying in the small bed against the far wall of the cribs. He doesn't know why, but he passes several beds, not stopping until he's at the cot only about a foot from her.
Elliot assumes she's asleep as he realizes her eyes are closed and her chest is moving evenly. With a defeated sigh, he collapses back on the thin mattress, his arms wide and hands dangling to the floor.
Closing his own eyes, he takes several deep breaths, willing his mind to stop racing with thoughts about what they just did. He knows he probably is looking at an hour, maybe an hour and a half of sleep before Fin wakes them and trades off. They won't have time to deal with what they just did and he knows that Olivia won't ever let him bring it up. It's just another one of their secrets and it had to stay hidden in the dark with the rest.
The weight of day sinks over him and his body finally relaxes, sinking into the mattress, when as he feels her pinky finger lock with his between their beds.