A/N: Hey everyone, this is part two of paper rings, rated M for smut!
I just want to let you know that in this little verse Olivia never slept with the man who groomed her. I might write a little fix-it fic later, but for now let's all pretend it never happened.
Let me know if that's something you would like to read.
As always, I would love to read your thoughts!
My at on the bird app is oliviastablerz and I would love to talk to you there as well.
Hope you enjoy this one!
He is still awake.
His eyes are closed, his breathing slow and steady, and he wants to pretend he is in the land of the dreaming, unaffected by the way Olivia's body is spread on top of his, pressing, warm skin against warm skin.
Elliot's act fools no one, though, as his hands have been moving ever so slowly since he pulled her body toward him, exploring, wandering as much as he can inside the very clear boundaries she set earlier that night.
Nothing changes.
So he touches where it's safe, where her body is already familiar to him, where he won't cross any line neither of them can return from. His thumb brushes circles on her forearms, his nails sliding carefully all the way down her arms, reaching down to her wrists, then coming back up again, sliding under the fabric of the T-shirt she wears to bed, reaching her shoulders only to back down.
"El…" She whispers, finally opens her eyes to let him know she hasn't managed to get any sleep, either. The moonlight floods the room, the city finally somewhat quiet in this hour of the night on a weekday.
They don't have long before the hustle of the city is there again, the traffic and the early morning commuters, the tourists and the workers rushing each to their own destination. They don't have long before either of their phones will inevitably ring, the person on the other end of the line, whomever it may be, sounding desperate and urgent, like they are the only people who can save the world in that given moment.
"I'm sorry." He whispers into the darkness of the room, yet his hands won't seize their journey up and down the length of her arms.
Olivia lifts her head slightly off his bare chest, their eyes finally meeting, saying more than they can utter out in words only, even in the darkness, even as the moon their only source of light. "There is nothing to be sorry about." She repeats his own words from earlier that night. "I'm not sorry."
Beneath the heavy covers, she places both of her palms on his broad shoulders and pushes her body up the length of his, until she can finally rest her forehead against his, her nails digging so deep into his skin she can swear she hears him hissing, yet she doesn't let go. "I want to." She repeats the words from the last time they have been this close, foreheads almost touching, the prospect of a kiss making the air in the room heavy with want.
"But you can't, I know, and I respect that." He nods lightly, as far as his head will go without bumping their foreheads together, trying to ease her body back down, but her grip tightens, and she stays put. "Olivia… " There is a warning in his voice now, and it sends a shiver down her spine, a desire she hasn't felt in a while building up low in her belly and pulling down, down, down, until she can feel its evidence wet between her thighs.
"I want to." Olivia repeats, her breathing heavy, the words barely leaving her mouth.
Her head spins when he finally pushes his body up, barely an inch, just enough to close the distance between them so their lips are finally touching, after twenty four long years. It's slow at first, new and strange but oh so right at the same time. He tastes exactly like she imagined, even though she can't exactly put her finger on what it is. It is something sweet and minty, and it makes her head spin, makes her toes curl as her arms loop around his neck, as she finds enough leverage to move up to a sitting position in his lap.
"Liv, are you sure about this?" Elliot asks, furrowing his brow as they finally detach from each other to grasp for some air. He plants his palms on the mattress and pushes himself up into a sitting position as well, and Olivia feels cold for a second as his hands leave her body. "We can stop at any time." He says, but as she rolls her hips slowly on top of him she can feel the evidence of his desire starting to grow hard in his sweatpants.
"Don't stop." She murmurs, and that's all the encouragement the both of them need to slam their lips back together, bolder this time, less hesitation in the way his tongue skims over her lower lip, the way her mouth opens for him, the way he bites and she hums her approval.
The need to mark him is astonishing, taking her deep from her core and making any other logical thought vanish like dust in the wind. Her fingernails dig deep again, the back of his neck, his scalp, everywhere she can leave those half crescent marks printing on his skin.
Hers.
He is free handed now, less timid, not afraid to break a line that has already been crossed. His fingers climb up, up, up under her T-shirt, exploring the soft skin of her belly until he reaches the curve of her breasts, not really touching her where her nipples are already peaked and hard.
"God, you really do act like an alter boy in bed." Olivia mumbles into the kiss.
"Where did you hear that?" Elliot wonders as he shifts his head to his left, breaking the kiss. His left arm reaches out, fumbles in the dark until he manages to turn the bedside lamp on, flooding the room with yellow light that blinds them both for a few long seconds.
Olivia chuckles, trying to lighten the mood, hoping she didn't ruin whatever it is they are doing before it even started. "Ayanna." She admits.
"I am going to kill her." Elliot determines, and when Olivia looks into his eyes for a moment she thinks he might actually make good on his threat.
"Don't." She is trying to keep the peace, bringing one of her hands forward, caressing his cheek with her thumb, down to his chin, tracing the lines of the goatee he got rid of long ago.
God, she hated not being able to see his face, yet she will be lying if she doesn't admit to imagining him with it, kissing her, scraping that sensitive spot on her neck he doesn't know about yet, the feeling of it as he goes down on her, his head between her thighs, his facial hair rubbing her delicate skin.
She has to stifle a moan that rises deep in her throat before he hears it, before she has to admit the deepest, darkest fantasies she maintained in the last twenty four years. She will tell him eventually, one day he will know, but for now, she just wants a first time with him.
Wants a first time that doesn't cave under the burden of twenty four years of heartache and sorrow, of lust and brokenness. She wants a first time where the past is just the past, and in the moment there is nothing and no one in this bed besides the two of them.
Just two people finding pleasure in each other. Like real people do.
"I had to squeeze it out of her." Olivia finally says.
"Trust me, I am no altar boy." Elliot promises, his hands slipping down under her shirt again, his fingers finding her erect nipples, rolling, pinching, twisting. She feels it all the way down to her toes and up to the top of her head, her eyes flying shut, the slow rhythm she had with her hips is suddenly uneven and off beat. The sound of her moans fills the room, and she hopes to God that they are being quiet enough for Noah to stay asleep.
She is trying to reach and turn the lights back off, trying to go back to the comfort of the darkness, to the protection it suggests.
Yet his hand is on her wrist in a blink of an eye, pushing her back, forcing the light to stay on, forcing the secrets she has been keeping from him out, finally.
"I wanna see you. I need to see you." He pleads, and when she opens her eyes the blue of his seems almost black, dark with desire.
"Elliot.." She sighs his name as the hand still on her breast keeps the delicious rolling and pinching rhythm he had set before, making it hard for her to gather a coherent thought. "There are some things we better leave in the dark."
For a second they are both just there, just existing in a moment in time where the light is too bright to hide her demons, where she can feel his hands on her skin, slowing now, waiting for her ruling. She knows that if she insists, he will eventually give in, and yet it feels like she can't deny him of this.
And maybe when she finally steps outside of the darkness, she will be able to see his scars, too, scars he gained over the last decades, stories he never shared. Maybe outside of the darkness she might not be alone in this, after all.
"Just… One thing…" She breaths as he picks up the pace, finding the delicious rhythm he had going on earlier. "Don't ask questions tonight."
"Mmm…" Elliot hums his approval before his lips are back on hers again, his finger at the hem of her T-shirt, tugging it up, up, up until she has no choice but to detach from him, to let him roll the fabric above her head and throw it somewhere between the heap of sheets.
His eyes are on her naked upper body now, taking nothing more than a glimpse before he dives his head down, taking a hard nipple in his mouth and bites, then rolls his tongue over it in a soothing manner, doing it over, and over, and over again.
And if he notices the scars, the burn marks that never really healed completely… Well, he says nothing about it, and neither does she.
He is hungry, his mouth searching, biting, nipping as he travels up, licking his way up her neck, searching for that one spot that would make her shutter. He finds it right behind her ear, her encouragement comes in a series of broken moans and shallow, heavy breaths.
"More." Olivia requests, pushing his head into her skin. "And no marks." She warns.
The last thing she needs is to explain what a hickey is or how she got it to a twelve years old.
And to her entire squad, she isn't sure which one of them is worse.
"Well, that should have probably been said before you dug your fingernails into my skin." He chuckles, the hot air from his breath swirling against her skin, wet with his saliva, sending shivers up her spine.
She wants to say something, wants to send a smart remark in his way, but all thought is lost in her head when Elliot pushes his hands through the waistband of her sleeping shorts, his hands searching, tugging down at the material of her shorts and her underwear.
Olivia never planned for this to happen, never imagined she would be shedding clothes in bed with him tonight, and suddenly she feels underdressed in her simple cotton gray underwear. She wishes she had worn the black, sexy thong that leaves very little room for imagination, the one she bought a while back for a rainy day that never showed up.
Not until tonight, anyway.
She is almost self conscious, but when Elliot slips a finger around her outer lips, brushing ever so slightly, every last thought in her mind disappears, and the only thing left is the anticipation, almost painful in her stomach.
It's not like she is going to stay in those underwear for a long time anyway.
When his thumb finally finds her clit, she thrusts her hips forward, trying to get as much as she can from that sensation. Her head swings forwards and down, meeting his shoulder, and she is biting his skin now, as his thumb moves faster, flickers harder against her sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Good?" He asks, and Olivia has a feeling he already knows the answer, and just wants to make her repeat it in his ears.
The words are spilling out of her mouth, incoherent nothings passing her lips, encouraging him to go on.
"Elliot…" She moans out his name, and he groans his reaction, his hand going faster between her thighs, the sound of his name on her lips like that, raw and needy, doing something to him, something she can't explain.
"I need more room." He breaths.
And then her pants are gone, along with her underwear, and she isn't sure whose hands are the ones taking the artifacts off her body, his or hers, leaving her completely naked to his eyes.
His sweats are gone too, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, his erection visible to her, clear and throbbing. Her hands are on him now as she climbs back up his body, sliding up the hard muscles of his calves and thighs, finding his underwear and trying to tug them down.
"Alter boy." Olivia teases as he catches her wrists. "You do know that you will have to take them off eventually."
"Just give me one more…" He pushes her up to her knees, slides two fingers inside of her, delighted by the gasp of surprise he manages to get out of her mouth. "Minute."
His hand is moving inside of her now, picking up the pace until her entire body is vibrating, until all she can hear is the blood in her ears, the sound of her moans and the hand moving inside of her, slapping against the wetness.
If things don't work out, at least she had a really, really good hand job.
His fingers work skillfully, even though she isn't sure she wants to think about exactly where he earned those skills. He adds another finger, never slowing down the rhythm he found, the palm of his hand brushing her clit with every move he makes.
It is almost too much, almost too good to be true, and Olivia doesn't know if it because it's been a while, or because she is hypersensitive, or because it's him, it's Elliot in her bed and on her skin and in her body, but when she comes, it hits her hard, waves after wave of pleasure, and Elliot has to use the hand supporting his weight to muffle her cries.
He keeps going, helps her milk her orgasm until there is nothing left, until she is panting, trying in vain to catch her breath, her knees giving up beneath her and she is back in his lap once again.
"That was…" Olivia starts, pushing away blindly a piece of hair that fell on her face, sticky with sweat.
"I know." Elliot mumbles finally, pressing feather light kisses to her collar bone.
When she looks at him, finally opening her eyes, she can see a smirk on his lips.
"First drawer of the night stand." Olivia instructs him, her limbs feeling like Jell-O, and she isn't sure she can lift them up, let alone reach all the way to her nightstand, that feels so far away at that moment.
"Not done yet." He calls, taking her breast in his mouth, going back to the biting- soothing rhythm he had going on earlier. It is nice, slow and steady, but she is growing impatient, the prospect of him being inside of her, the prospect of another orgasm make her body tremble with need.
"Elliot, open the drawer."
"Yes, captain." He laughs, then he does as her command. He finds the collection of her vibrators first, his eyes looking at her loopsides as she shrugs. He finds her glasses, the smutty book she keeps beside her bed (She never was the kind of person who watches porn, much rather use her hands and her imagination and the words someone else put on paper when she needs to take the edge off of a long day at work).
He finally finds what she was aiming for, hands her the bottle of lube, places one of the condoms she keeps right next to it on the mattress, beside his hip. She is tempted to tell him to ditch the protection, to take her like that, skin to skin, nothing in between them.
But he is right, they never discussed this, and even though she trusts him, and the chances of her getting pregnant are non-existent, she knows it's the right thing to do.
Olivia slips her hand into his boxers, taking him out of the black fabric and rolling it all the way down to his ankles. He is big, long and wide, and she can almost feel the way he would fill her, the way he would stretch her walls. "I need you." She breathes out.
She starts working him slowly, brushing the pad of her thumb at his tip and listens to the sound of pleasure he is trying to muffle. Her hand moving up and down his length, already seeing the pre-cum on his tip.
He rips the tin foil, places the condom and squirts some of the lube on his fingers, pushing them inside of her again, making sure she is ready for him.
"Down." Olivia instructs when he is done, when he feels like she is wet enough for his satisfaction. Her hands are pushing at his shoulder, forcing his back and his head back on the mattress.
"Of course you like to be on top." Elliot remarks, but Olivia can tell he doesn't mind, not when he got the best view in the room. Her hips, her breasts, her face, all visible to him from this position.
If he wanted to say anything else, he doesn't get the chance to, because she aligns herself and slips his tip inside of her, moving down slowly until he is balls deep inside of her, his entire length disappearing.
"Fuck." He groans and closes his eyes as she feels herself stretched deliciously, feeling him deep inside of her.
The sounds he makes, the muffled moans and soft encouragement coming out of his lips make her finally move, thrust her hip forward, setting a rhythm that's slow and delicious.
"I…" She breaths, the words catching in her throat. "I need your help." She doesn't have to ask twice, his hands all over her in a heartbeat, one finds her breast, tagging and squeezing her nipple, in a manner that might have been painful if she wasn't so focused on the feeling of him inside of her, on the movement of her hips. His other hand finds her clit, giving it a gentle squeeze between his thumb and forefinger, and her head flies back, her hands dropping to his shoulders to keep herself steady.
Neither of them have any idea how long they have been like this, her picking up the pace with every thrust, him catching up to the tone she dictates with his fingers. He is pushing his hips up to meet her, two people moving as one, and it's not long before she can feel her second orgasm low in her belly, the anticipation taking over her.
"Come for me." He requests, and that's all she needs to come undone on top of him. Her walls clench around him, and she doesn't have time to stifle the scream coming out of her lips, her entire body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over her.
She catches half a thought drifting in her mind, the way she wants to feel him coming inside of her, the way she regrets the barrier they put between them.
When Olivia finally opens her eyes, her heart still racing, she can feel Elliot's hand moving to her hips, pushing her, helping her get back the rhythm she lost in her climax. His eyes are closed, and she can see the exact moment he comes on his face, the way he bites down on his lower lip, the way he groans out her name.
They stay there for a long moment, breathing each other, the smell of sex and sweat mingling, filling her lungs.
The first rays of sunrise peek through the window, and she reaches her hand out, turning the lamp off, this time with no objections on Elliot's side. The light that enters the room is soft and warm, signaling the start of a new day.
Everything changes, or maybe it already has.
She feels the loss of his body the second she dismounts him, pulling him out of her carefully and spreading her limbs on the mattress right beside him, the ache in her knees and her thighs nothing but a faint echo at the moment.
She will be sore later, and she knows she has to go through the steps of her post-sex ritual, pee and shower and take out the trash, just to make sure Noah doesn't see a used condom in there.
Olivia needs to do all of that, but in this very moment all she can do is move her palm ever so slightly, reach her hand out until her fingers tangle with his.
"Liv, I have to go." He whispers, and she knows that it's not a morning after regret, because there is a certain tone of sadness to his voice, and he places kisses onto her wrist and her cheek, the corner of her mouth and her closed eyelids.
And everything in her being tells her that he wants to stay, that he would have, if only he could.
She says nothing when he slides out of her bed, tucks the covers on top of her.
The last thing she manages to hear is the water running in her shower, before her body finally pulls her into a sweet, dreamless sleep.
Olivia wakes up an hour or so later, the ringing of her alarm deafening, the screen on her phone aggressively telling her the time is 6:30 am.
By the time she rolls to face the other side of the bed, Elliot is long gone, and if it weren't for the warmth of him still there, for his gray hoodie he covered her with, placed loosely across her shoulders…
If it weren't for those little things, small mementos he left behind, telling her he was actually there, it might have been difficult for her to believe that everything changed, after all.