Chapter Two:
Her head hit the door behind her with a satisfying crack, though she was only aware of the pain for mere moments before his tongue explored her mouth again. The need for air was great, but she couldn't bring herself to separate from Elliot's lips.
They were softer than she had imagined (and Olivia had imagined), but his body was rock solid against her. She had expected nothing less from a man who spent his free time in the gym and basked for a moment in how great he looked at 55. She loved the curves she had filled throughout her forties and into her fifties, but shit, he looked better.
He looked hot.
Finally, she got her breathing space as his mouth sought out the skin of her jaw, peppering its length with short kisses. Sucking at her pulse point until she moaned, Olivia watched as Elliot's breathing deepened, though she was pleased to see he was just as affected by this as she was.
"God, you're gorgeous," he growled in her ear, nuzzling his nose into her hair. The moment was sexy and wholesome and knee-trembling and everything she had hoped for after two decades of convincing Elliot to go home to his family and to deny their connection. She never knew she needed his lips on her neck or his groin against hers - but she had always known that something was missing. She was glad to have found the missing piece, and she should have known this was where she'd find it.
"You're not too bad yourself, detective."
Elliot only groaned in response, allowing her to lead him by the hand into her bedroom.
"Where do you want me, captain?"
He has a thing for the rank, she noted with a smirk. Good to know.
"You're perfect where you are, El."
He shook his head, "I want you closer."
Pulling her closer, their lips reconnected and her arms were thrown haphazardly around his neck, while his found a place on her hips. Brushing the bottom of her dress with his fingertips, he eyed her carefully, silently asking for her permission to remove the material.
"Before you do, El," she spoke breathlessly, pulling back. "I've got scars. I'm not ashamed of them, I'm not embarrassed by them, but I need you to know they're there."
Elliot nodded, "You'll tell me when you're ready."
Taking a step back, Olivia removed the dress for him. There she stood, a skin-coloured lace bodysuit covering her olive-toned features. The wiring of the upper half of the suit pushed her breasts up deliciously and barely covered the large mounds she had grown to love.
She grinned at Elliot as he took in her figure, strain suddenly appearing in his trousers. His breathing had quickened, though his eyes never left her body and before she knew it, his mouth was devouring her own once more.
"Fuck," she moaned, though her curse was muffled by way his tongue (a talented tongue) battled with her own. His hands cupped her ass, lifting her with ease until her legs were straddling his waist. With a quick spin, she was flat on the bed (deliciously exposed to him) and fuck, if her heart wasn't pounding in anticipation of what was to come.
His suit jacket was removed, followed by the vest and the shirt (she loved these suits, but why was he wearing so many clothes) before he crawled over her. Forgoing her lips, his mouth sought out the skin of her chest, leaving a messy trail of kisses from her collarbone down to the valley between her breasts.
He only groaned for a moment before moving the thin material aside, licking at her right nipple while groping the left. Her hand gripped his neck while the other ran across his lower back, taking a moment to appreciate his chiselled muscles and the smoothness of his skin (while he gave each nipple equal appreciation).
The Italian sun had blessed his skin with a perfect glow, and even with a light trace, she felt she had committed each and every muscle to her memory. If Elliot stuck around this time (and she had a good feeling about it), she'd insist that he forgo a shirt in her presence.
She's sure he wouldn't mind too much.
Suddenly the straps of her bodysuit are sliding down her arms, and she can't help but feel an intense desire to remove the whole damn thing. His treatment of her breasts makes her much too anxious to see what else his mouth can do.
Luckily, he seems to have the same thought and with a quick nod from her, the entire piece of lingerie has been discarded and his hands are running along her thick thighs. She has no doubts the man can see her core, glistening with want, but once his hands are gripping her hips and his mouth is peppering kisses along the length of her inner thigh, pride be damned.
She wants him to make her come, and hard.
When his tongue finally gets a taste of her core, it's too much for both of them. The motion his tongue makes from the bottom of her vagina all the way to her clitoris is agonisingly slow (and enough to leave her wanting more), and her hands can't help but grip the back of his head, pulling his head closer to her (hoping this is accepted as blanket consent to explore her).
Elliot needs no encouragement as his tongue flicked at her clit and his hands held her hips in place, unmoving even as she ground her body's centre against his mouth.
When one of his hands slipped away from her hips, she was momentarily confused until a thick finger slipped easily through her folds. Pumping in and out of her, Elliot added another finger into the mix, lifting his head to check all was well with Olivia.
He needn't have worried because he was all she had ever wanted and he was here right now (devouring her, kissing her, sucking her, fingering her) and it was almost too much, overwhelming in all the best ways.
"You can go harder, you know," spoke Olivia, knowing soft and gentle didn't get her anywhere fast. She wasn't against sex of the soft and gentle variety (it could be absolutely blissful at times) but she had to admit, rough and fast was her favourite speed - the kind that was far from quiet and far from vanilla.
Elliot's mouth separated from her clit, replaced with the thumb of his other hand and he pulled back to look at her. She could only imagine how messy she looked right now, her lipstick smudged across her face and her hair dishevelled. But if his dick, rock-solid against his trousers was anything to go by; he was enjoying this just as much as she was.
His fingers slammed into her while his thumb worked on her clit and with the tingling which had started in her clit, she knew she was on the precipice of her release (and what a wonderful release this was going to be).
A numbness was building in her legs and her heart was pounding against her chest, his fingers somehow slamming even harder against her. When he added a third, those fingers managed to brush on just the right spot and pressure (the perfect kind) was building as the walls of her core pulsed around his fingers.
"God," she moaned, throwing her head back onto the pillows. She had learned over the years not to fight her body as it prepared to orgasm, knowing how intense her system's release could be. But she hadn't expected the suddenness of her climax and the rush of liquid which accompanied it. She hadn't expected to moan and beg (nor scream) around the motion of his fingers, which were skilfully bringing her down from the peak of her orgasm. She was struggling to breathe in the wake of her climax - and that's exactly how she wanted it.
"You're so fucking hot," he spoke with a breathy chuckle, coming to rest on top of her hips. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips, but she wasn't having it.
Instead, she pulled his mouth tight against hers. Gone was any uncertainty and reservation, replaced with an aggressive need for her lips to be connected to his. Her teeth nipped at his lips, soothing the injury with her tongue. Though her body was oversensitive still, it ached with want (with need).
(she needed him, so much, it hurt).
Flipping him over, she moved her mouth over his chest (complete with his own set of scars) and down to the waistband of his pants. Unfastening his belt, she made quick work of removing his pants and boxers, running her hands along his length (and wow, there sure was length).
She didn't have to do much to get him ready for her.
Letting some of her saliva coat his member left her former partner groaning. When her mouth was covering his length, head bobbing up and down, she could hear him muttering something to himself. But when she manoeuvred the head of his length to the very back of her throat, it was then his hand gave her a gentle tap.
"You're fucking amazing, Liv. But I'm not going to last if you keep doing that."
She got off of him with a grin and they took a moment to kiss one another, over and over and over again. For once, making out felt perfect. Usually, it felt as though she had regressed to the role of a horny teenager, but with Elliot?
God, she loved his mouth.
Urging her onto her back, Elliot used his knee to separate her legs and bring himself between them. She looked up at him and laughed.
"You think I'm a missionary kind of woman, Stabler?"
He took a moment before laughing to himself, "No, I guess not."
Sitting on the bed himself, he urged her onto his lap and she hovered above him - ready to connect their centres at any moment. But first-
"El, I need you to know how much I love you and how perfect this entire night has been," she replied, moisture gathering in the corner of her eyes. "I'm so glad our time came, even if it's taken 23 years."
"Oh, Liv. I've been in love with you for so long. I'm so proud of everything you've become and I'm beyond honoured you've let me back into your life - God knows I don't deserve you."
Sinking onto him, she moaned with the delight of him filling her up. He moaned too, and before she knew it, his lips were brushing against hers in a way that was so incredibly gentle she could melt.
For all the time apart, for all the tension and arguments and screaming matches they had accumulated, how could she have known this moment would come? How could she have had the foresight to know that 23 years after Cragen had introduced her as his new partner ("we'll see" Elliot had replied) that he would be buried deep inside her, kissing her with such a foreign kind of passion she had never been exposed to?
She quicker the pace with which she ground against him, pulling back so she could look into his eyes as she began to unravel once more. His hips were rising to meet her every motion, and his bright blue eyes looked straight back into her own dark brown orbs with nothing but love reflected in them.
Hands ran from her breasts down to the concave of her waist, supporting her as they neared climax once more.
"Are you ready?"
She shook her head, "Sorry, El, not quite."
A sly grin permeated his features as a hand slipped down between their bodies. As it happened, his fingers strumming at her clit was exactly what she needed to fall over the edge and in a matter of moments, their collective arousal peaked against a mess of moans and shouts, 'El's and 'Liv's and fluids.
She allowed herself to come down, flush against his body (sweaty and heaving and still, chiselled) while he buried his face in the crook of his neck. Olivia let him stay buried inside of her, mostly because she loved the feeling of being sat on his lap, and looked out of her bedroom window to the city down below them.
And with Elliot Stabler (of all people, yet who else would it be) wrapped around her body, she thanked this damn City for welcoming him home.