Day Twenty-Two, cont'd

His hand was magic on her skin. Light and gentle and soothing and sweet. Exactly not how he'd been that day in the crib. But just like that day in the crib, he somehow knew exactly what she needed and he was more than willing to give it to her.

At first, his fingers were locked around her head as he held her close for a wonderfully deep, searing kiss that left no room for confusion as to the veracity of his claim that he loved her. As his tongue tangled with hers, mapping her, marking her, claiming her, his good hand shifted, his fingers taking the time to learn her carefully in a way he hadn't the first time. His touch slid along her bare shoulder, down her arm and back up, slowly tracing along her collar bone, then down her side, dipping around to caress her back as well.

He'd been so gentle with her since he'd found her, but it was different this time. It wasn't teasing, it wasn't longing, it wasn't going to stop abruptly. It was truly time, she knew, for them to make love, finally, really. And that was exactly what his hand was telling her. She wished they'd been able to wait until they were free from the injuries that plagued them, from the evidence that someone had tried to separate them, but it almost seemed right that they came together just as they were. They weren't perfect, they never had been. But together, together they were phenomenal.

She had to break the kiss, pulling her mouth from his to drag in a breath, when the pads of his fingertips lightly traced over her breasts, first one then the other. He'd taken her shirt off her ages ago, it seemed, so long that she'd nearly forgotten that she was bared to him. But unlike other men, he hadn't gone straight for the prize, instead taking his time and touching her all over, slowly focusing in on where she wanted him. Her shoulder was still uncooperative, more or less pinning her arm around his waist. Her other arm, though, was free to move, free to explore, and she traced the firm curves of the muscles in his chest and arms, making it to his shoulder before she froze.

His fingers had finally maneuvered their way to her nipple, pinching it lightly, flicking his nails gently across the ridiculously sensitive flesh. She let her head fall back, reveling in the sensation, knowing his splinted arm was locked around her to prevent her from falling. Her nails dug into him, one set on his back, the other gouging holes in his shoulder as she whimpered.

Just as she opened her eyes, thinking she might be able to actively participate again, Elliot shifted, both of his arms winding around her waist as he ducked down, taking one of her nipples in his mouth. Her knees gave out, leaving his strong arms holding her off the ground. He didn't mind. He didn't even seem to notice. His mouth just kept working on her breast, licking, sucking, his tongue swirling around her nipple until she was sure that weak knees were the least of her problems. Actually passing out was bound to be more embarrassing.

Although he was perfectly happy to continue working away, going to town on her breasts, lavishing attention on each of them, Olivia wasn't. Not that she really wanted him to stop. But she did want to participate. She wanted the chance to make him weak in the knees, although she figured it would probably be better to get him on the bed first since she certainly wouldn't be able to catch him one-handed.

With her good hand, she caught his chin, pulling his face up from her chest. It was clear in his disappointed eyes that he was absolutely not done with his fun, but he was certainly eager to see how she would direct him. She liked that he was determined to be a good student and she smiled, angling her head toward her rumpled bed.

"Bed?"

He nodded, leaning down to suck on her breast some more.

She moaned at the sensation, realizing that he had every intention of plying multiple climaxes out of her body. The thought sent another wave of heat through her, gathering into a tingling knot between her legs that she knew he'd be all to happy to work loose for her. She clawed at his chin again, leaving her nails pressing into his skin to tell him she wasn't joking.

"Bed."

"Going." He kept her in his arms, bent over backwards where she'd collapsed, his mouth once again fastening around her nipple like he was some kind of starving infant. He stayed like that, amazingly able to multi-task, as he lowered her onto the bed.

She could already feel it building when her back hit the mattress, but then his body moved atop hers, his erection straining against his pants, teasing her body with the contact he wasn't yet giving her. Unable to stop herself, she thrust her hips up toward him, making solid contact with his dick, pressing herself against him. His mouth tightened as he answered her thrust with one of his own, his free hand moving to caress the nipple that wasn't in his mouth.

It was perfect, she realized, the three most sensitive places on her body in contact with his, his gentle, loving motions, his desire for her. She lifted her legs, letting him settle between them as she wrapped herself around him. The additional pressure was the last straw to set her first orgasm ripping through her, her hands, busted shoulder and all, squeezing his head tightly against her breast lest he stop before she was quite done enjoying his handiwork.

When she finally released the death grip on his head, when her arms fell to the side as the last shudders of utter wonder raked through her, he lifted up, smiling a rather smug little smile at her.

"Like that, did you?"

She couldn't even make a face to tell him what she thought of his cocky attitude, but considering that his mouth had reduced her to that state, she was willing to let it slide. But then she saw the twinkle in his eyes as he chuckled.

"I can do better."

She couldn't really argue, not until the power of speech returned to her. She couldn't even stop him when he carefully untangled her legs from his waist. It wasn't like she was all that inclined to stop him, not when the trail of open-mouthed kisses he was leaving on her stomach telegraphed exactly what his plans were. He yanked her pants and underwear free of her, kissing her legs as he did, removing his own quickly while he kissed his way back up her other leg. She wanted to acknowledge his skill, but she could only sigh as he nudged her legs further apart, his hot breath tickling her dark curls.

She had wanted to participate, to make him feel the way he was making her feel, but then she felt his fingers, combing through her curls, dancing over her clit, sliding inside of her, testing her. She was almost embarrassed at the wellspring of fluid waiting for him there, but it felt too good for her to care much.

She felt his breath first, the hot rush of air raising goosebumps long every inch of her flesh. She shivered, feeling exposed and vulnerable with how he was just looking at her. Before she could panic that he was backing out of it, his mouth finally moved, his lips pressing against her clit, almost painfully slow to open. His tongue moved out just as slowly, just barely making contact with her body.

And even with that tentative contact, so light she could barely feel it, her nails dug into the covers, trying to secure her in the present. Because she was afraid she might float off into the clouds.

His tongue pressed harder, moving in deliberate strokes, up and down, then circling as his lips closed over her clit, sucking on it, fondling it with his tongue. His fingers didn't take a break. His splint was resting on her belly, holding her hips still, while his other hand, good lord, his other hand, relentlessly plunged in and out of her with such a perfect rhythm she wondered if he didn't have some kind of psychic link to her, telling him what would feel so amazing.

She was panting, trying to pull enough oxygen into her lungs to satisfy her body's demands. Except her body was trying to spontaneously combust, she was sure of it. All of her muscles were out of control, tensing and releasing without any pattern, she felt like she was running another marathon, the way her whole body was screaming, listening to someone else's commands, her pathetic attempts to keep up falling far short.

And Elliot, god, the man had no mercy. None at all. His lips kept sucking. His tongue kept caressing. His fingers kept sliding. His splint kept her hips motionless, which she imagined was good, because when her back arched without any warning, lifting her shoulders off the bed, sending her head falling backwards, she supposed it was a good thing that she didn't somersault right out of the room.

Well, she might have thought it. But just then, she was being struck by lightening, millions and millions of volts of electricity rocketing through her body, setting her nerves on fire, burning through her tired muscles, melting her body, her brain, her thoughts into a useless, fiery puddle right in the middle of her bed.

At least she didn't need to worry about breathing anymore since he'd fucking killed her.

And still, even as she slowly, tenuously decided to assume she hadn't actually melted, although she wasn't yet quite convinced of that, his mouth and hand continued to work at her, softly, gently guiding her body back down while she continued to tremble. Her internal muscles lasting the longest, clutching at his hand as though they didn't want him to ever stop.

She'd never in her life rolled over after her turn and wanted to forget about the sex and just sleep. After the workout she'd just had, she wasn't sure she could coordinate enough of her body to even roll over. So she lay there, wondering if Elliot would mind that she didn't move a damn muscle while he fucked her.

But surprisingly, as he slid up the length of her, finally settling his erection between her legs, pressing his tongue into to her mouth, she felt her body start to hum once again. Apparently she was going to keep buzzing until she wasn't in contact with a live wire anymore.

Grinning against his mouth, she figured that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Fuck what Huang said. She wasn't letting go of Elliot. Ever. Period.

She had a score to settle with him too. With strength and synchronization she hadn't even realized she still possessed, she rolled him over, laughing at his surprise, straddling his stomach, leaning in for another kiss.

God, that man and his tongue… It ought to be listed as a deadly weapon.

And his eyes too, especially the way they widened and seemed to glow almost as she wiggled, sliding herself down his body, licking and kissing his chest, as he caught on to what she was doing. His mouth opened, his breathing speeding up as she worked her way lower. She took her time, exploring his body for the first time. He'd been behind her, completely in control of their first encounter. She wanted to play, to taste him, to make her own claim of his body.

But eventually, she'd nipped and licked and kissed him silly, knowing she was simply driving him out of his mind, thinking it only fair for trying to kill her with his own tongue. She looked up at him, holding his eyes, still astounded by the connection she felt to him, as her fingers traced along his hip and thigh. The way he was staring at her, the way his whole body was shaking, it destroyed any thoughts she had about torturing him. Her fingers brushed his balls, feeling his body tense, hearing his breath hitch, and then she reached for him, her fingers curling around his dick, holding it steady as she leaned down with a smile on her lips.

She licked the tip first, knowing he was already eager, starting out carefully, giving him enough warning to hold himself under control. Her tongue moved out, tracing around his head, slowly exploring the length of him to where he disappeared behind her hand. She shifted her hand, using the trail of moisture left by her tongue to loosen her grip, letting her hand slide along him. She licked her way back up to the tip, feeling his whole body shudder as she took the tip into her mouth. She flicked her tongue around him, touching him, tasting him, trying to retain her own control. She wanted to pull him all the way, as far as she could, return the favor, let him lose himself under the ministrations of her mouth. But she wanted to be selfish too, saving that idea for later, needing to make love to him the way they hadn't done yet.

So she checked herself, licking at him, sucking on him, working her mouth up and down in time with the pumping of her hand, managing to give him a good rhythm, wanting him to enjoy the attention the way she had, yet knowing she couldn't take him to that height, not like that, not yet.

And when she heard his strangled, barely recognizable voice groaning her name, she knew she was getting close. Still, she kept going, pumping her mouth along him, licking at him, tasting the first bits of semen that started to escape.

But his hand was serious when it wrapped around her wrist, his voice harder and strained. "Stop, Liv, now."

She knew he wasn't kidding and she didn't want to push him. Not when she could let him down and take him right back up. The man was flat on his back, after all. She let him slide from her mouth with a pop, giggling at the inanity of both the sound and the action, making up for her behavior by pulling herself back up to straddle him. She smiled at him, expecting that he'd want to fuck, especially after she'd brought him so close.

Instead, he reached for her face with both hands, belatedly remembering that one of them was almost entirely useless in the splint. That one dropped heavily onto the bed in a move she knew from his wince he'd regret in the morning. The other one kept going, though, sliding along her cheek, pulling her face down to his. Her mouth pressed against his, falling open before he had the chance to ask, invading his mouth with her tongue before he could stop her. The hand in her hair tensed, as did his whole body.

She was in charge this time.

And he liked it.

She kept kissing him, letting up for a few seconds now and then to let his tongue into her mouth, allowing him to think he might be able to wrestle the control back from her. But every time she feared he might, every time his kisses reached that point where she knew her brain was fogging up like car windows, she sifted her hips, teasing both of them with the touch of her clit to his dick.

As much fun as kissing him was, and it was a whole hell of a lot of fun, she had more in mind. She backed off, kissing her way along his chin and throat, pulling a piece of his skin between her teeth and sucking on it until she knew that he'd have no way to hide the mark. She didn't care that people would know where and who it had come from. It was a claim and she wanted the world to know he was hers.

That tiny bit of work accomplished, she reached down, forcing her hand between their bodies, lining him up as he muttered a string of incomprehensible words at her. She giggled again, feeling incredibly powerful and happy and in love as she eased herself down slowly until her butt rested on his thighs.

He moaned again, probably trying to encourage her to do something besides sit there, but she was too fucking enthralled with the feeling of him inside her, deeper than he had been before. He fit inside her, like he was supposed to be there, in a way no one else had, and she knew, blubbering romantic notions of sex aside, it was probably because he filled her heart and mind and soul in a way no other man ever had. So it was only fitting that his body fit hers perfectly. Those times she'd dared think of such a thing, she had to admit she'd never expected that it wouldn't feel right. They worked together so well in every other way, of course they complemented each other in bed too.

It was when his hips pathetically tried to thrust with her full body weight resting on them that she came back to herself, remembering that she was on top and therefore, just sitting there wasn't going to cut it. Leaning forward, she pressed her arms, ignoring her crybaby shoulder, to either side of his head, holding either side of his face as she kissed him, her legs lifting her body up, pulling away until he was almost out of her before lowering herself back down. She wanted to start it off right, slow and long and perfect, because she knew that things were going to get fast and short and messy rather quickly. Sure, they worked well together, but that didn't mean it was neat.

He allowed her a couple long, slow strokes before his good hand clamped around her hip, his fingers digging painfully into her, sure to leave bruises. "Fuck, Liv!"

She giggled again, knowing it was wrong, yet loving that he was so completely at her mercy. It was only fair, she swore, since he'd so thrown her entirely out of her element by fucking her brains out in the crib that day.

Even so, she started to speed up, loving the feel of him inside of her, but wanting more, harder, deeper, faster, to release the tension that was causing her legs to squeeze his sides involuntarily as she moved above him. Her hands moved down his chest, settling on his belly first, then moving to the bed on either side, trying to help her legs with some of the work of the faster rhythm.

He reached for her again, both hands, again groaning as the broken one fell uselessly to the side. The other, however, started on one of her shaking thighs, skimming over her skin, glancing over her hips and abdomen, finally cupping her breast.

Now, it had been one of Olivia's unfortunate experiences with several men that made her nervous as he touched her. Because, for some confounding reason, she'd found that men seemed to think that her breasts were meant to be used as handles of some sort when she was on top. And so, although she winced inwardly when he made contact, she was still willing to trust him.

Instead of closing around her hard, using the sensitive tissue to guide her movements, he simply touched her. Felt her.

Leaving her to feel very, very sad that his broken hand wasn't able to help out. Because it was that stimulating, that hot, to have his feather light touch on her nipple as she rode him hard.

Even more turned on, she increased the speed, feeling the sweat building on her skin, causing her hair to stick to her face as it swung, leaving wet spots and trails as the beads fell from her onto Elliot. She tried to speed up even more, feeling the increasingly erratic thrusts from his hips, knowing she was so close, hating that she might miss yet another release, worried that her leg muscles would burn out before his control did.

And then his hand moved, leaving her breast, trailing his fingertips down past her belly, dipping into her curls, rubbing her clit as she growled at him.

She'd never been much for talking during sex, not short of telling someone when they were doing something that hurt. She wasn't really one for making guttural sounds or screaming either. She was usually quiet, letting her brain concentrate on feeling instead of speaking. But she heard the whimpering, the moaning, the animalistic growl that came from her own throat as he massaged her clit, pumping his hips against hers opposite her own rhythm.

She felt like she was going to go spinning off into space again and she grabbed the sheets in fierce fists, screaming at the top of her lungs when she felt the orgasm take her. She felt her whole body tighten almost painfully, knowing that she'd clenched herself so tightly around Elliot's dick that he couldn't possibly avoid tumbling over the side with her, not with how fucking close he'd been. Tight as her body was around him, she felt it as he thrust hard into her, an almost searing pain coming while she was still flying from him moving as her body was trying to hold him still. But the pain disappeared that fast, feeling the pressure, feeling his release inside of her.

But she couldn't tell anymore than that as her vision faded to complete black, her eyes squeezing closed as stars exploded in her head. She felt herself falling and she wanted to scream again, except she was already screaming, still screaming, holding onto Elliot and fearing that she would never stop falling.

When she was aware again, she opened her eyes, finding herself collapsed and breathing heavily on Elliot's chest. She felt his breathing, recognizing the slightly winded pattern of it, and felt better for having exhausted herself, since he clearly was as worn out as she was.

She found the strength to lift her head, her motion forcing Elliot to open his eyes. She smiled at him, her emotions running away from her before she could think to censor them. "I love you."

There was no time for her to be embarrassed or to remember that she didn't need to be embarrassed. He smiled back at her, fastening his arms, splint and all, around her as he rolled them to the side. "I love you."

She grinned as she tucked her face back into his chest, inhaling the scent of him and sweat and them enjoying one another, loving the feel of his soft dick still partially inside her. She wanted to know when he was ready for another round. But first, she needed some sleep. Her lips pressed against the scar on his chest, thinking of how violently she'd hurt anyone, child or not, who tried to hurt him again.

And she drifted off to sleep listening to Elliot breathe.

Splintered.7