Summary: Elliot and Olivia try to find some alone time in the shower before the rest of the house wakes up.

Author's note: This is a stand-alone chapter, but it does follow in time and is in the same universe as the previous chapters. Please ignore all mistakes, I don't have a beta. Also, I'm not sure why, but I struggled with this chapter. I had to rewrite the shower scene several times and I'm still not sure I'm happy with how it came out. Hopefully the next chapters are easier to write.

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Olivia was the first to wake, her ever-reliable inner alarm rousing her around 6:45. She was proud of herself, though, because for the last few weekends - the ones spent with Elliot - she had been able to turn it off, claiming more precious sleep. But, she thinks she should probably attribute that small joy to her revived and active sex life, rather than to a victory of self-control.

She smiles at herself remembering the night before.

With a houseful, they had to keep it quiet, so they settled for sweet, gentle lovemaking. They laid facing one another in the middle of his bed, sharing a pillow and kissing for what seemed like hours. Without any urgency they leisurely peeled off clothing one item at a time, letting their hands roam freely over their uncovered skin without any true intention other than just to feel.

She couldn't believe how fit he was now. Not that Elliot had ever been out of shape, but the last decade had been kind to him. She thoroughly enjoyed trailing her fingers through the dips of each of his abdominal muscles and her running her full hands over his strong shoulders and chest, letting his hair tickle her palms. Elliot was equally satisfied with Olivia's body; the years had also blessed her. She was gorgeous as always and he loved her body. He told her so every chance he had: in bed together; over text messages; late night phone calls when he was begging to cover over; and whispered in her ear when they were in public, just for the joy of watching pink creep over her neck and cheeks.

Eventually he had lifted her leg, resting it over his thigh, and slid into her effortlessly. They stayed like that, lazily grinding and thrusting their way to orgasm, their mouths capturing each other's soft signs and groans.

She's pulled from her reverie when she hears Elliot's husky morning voice ask, "Whatcha thinking about?"

"Nothing," she brushes him off, a faint blush rising in her cheeks, but rolls to face him.

"Nothin' has you blushing before 7:00 a.m.?"

"Mmm hmmm." She kisses him softly on the mouth, but not deeply. They've been together long enough now that she feels comfortable withholding morning affection until he's brushed his teeth.

"I don't think you're being honest, Liv," he says, then uses his body to push her onto her back and lay over her, kissing and licking down her neck; Elliot's never been that concerned about morning breath. "You've got something rolling around in there…something salacious I hope."

"I guess you'll never know." She taunts as she tilts her head back on her pillow, giving him more room to work.

"Is that right?" he challenges with a smirk, "I have ways to make you tell me."

He leans in and sucks and nibbles on the spot right behind her ear, lightly enough that the sensation tickles and arouses. He's leaning on one elbow, but his other hand sneaks up her top. He runs it up her side intentionally trying to make her squirm.

"Ellll!" She laughs, barely able to catch her breath as he tickles her over and over and prevents her from wiggling away with the weight of his body.

"Shhhh Liv, you'll let the whole house know what we are doing." He's mocking her, knowing that with each pass of his fingers, she won't be able to quiet.

"I can't…I can't…El! Breath! I can't breathe." She is still laughing but she's starting to really gasp for air, so Elliot pulls up and stops his hand.

Beaming he asks "You wanna tell me now?"

Breathless, she can't answer right away, tears from laughter rolling from the corners of her eyes, she breathes deeply a few times and huffs out a defiant "No."

He wiggles his fingers against her side threateningly, "Well then, I guess-"

"Okay, okay!" She puts her hand on his chest, keeping him back and uses her other hand to reach for his wrist, she can't take another one of his cruel tickle attacks. "I'll tell you."

"Goooo oooooon," he draws out, satisfied with his early morning success.

"I was just thinking…" Still in a playful mood, she can't decide whether to tell him the truth and bring them back to the gentleness of the night before or make up something on the fly to continue their current antics.

"Uh huh?" he prompts, poised and ready to make her hurry up.

"I was just thinking that … your shower is big enough for two," she says, biting her lip and giving him a flirtatious look. Current antics it is.

Tickling forgotten, he hops up from the bed, "Up! Up! We have to hurry or Noah will beat us there."

Elliot has Olivia pressed against the tiles, half under the spray, the hot water hitting her at her chest and running down her body. His mouth is on hers, his tongue deep and questing, sweeping over and massaging hers. They have to pull back, the rising steam making it hard to breathe. Their eyes lock as their hands glide through the water sloshing down their bodies. Hers move up his chest, over his shoulders and down his back, her nails digging in slightly.

He has one hand wound around her low back, in the space she creates as she arches against him, groaning at the sensation, loving the feeling of her soft skin pressed into his. He peppers kisses down her neck and across her collarbone then trails his tongue over the tops of her breasts, lapping at the water, following the drops down to swirl over one nipple and then the next.

His other hand runs down her stomach to the inside of her thigh. She gasps, smacking lightly at his shoulder, warning "don't you tickle me Elliot." The edges of his mouth turn up in an ornery smile, his eyes teasing and challenging her before he rubs down and back up the inner side of her other thigh, letting his fingers wiggle.

"El," she pleads but is met with his still playful grin, "please." That does it. When they got together, Elliot vowed to himself that he would never make Olivia beg him for anything, for his time or attention or forethought, and definitely any physical affection or pleasure. Anything she wanted was hers automatically.

"As you wish," he says and keeping eye contact, he cups her and uses the flat of his four fingers to create firm pressure, arouse all the nerve endings at her core, then he lets his fingers curl up, rubbing through her folds and spreading her open, touching every part of her leaving every nerve ending on fire and begging for more. But when he tried to push a finger in, she pulled away slightly. "Hmmmm, not yet." The water from the shower, though steamy and intoxicating, was washing away her own wetness.

Rather than wait or move her from the spray, he just removed his hand and dropped to his haunches, immediately leaning in and running his tongue over the length of her.

"Oh God!" Her head thunks against the tiles and she bites her lips, knowing that the water won't cover all their sounds if she's too loud. She reaches up and adjusts the shower head so the water runs down Elliot's back, not drowning him as he works his mouth against her.

He runs his hands up and down her legs, massaging her calves gently and then caressing the backs of her thighs. He makes more space for himself by guiding her foot to the side, lifting it so he can rest it on the shower seat, a deep ledge at the back of the that he uses to hold shampoos and body washes. He holds that leg in place by supporting her thigh with his hand and uses his other hand to palm her ass and tilt her hips to create a better angle.

"You good?" He checks, making sure that she could hold the position for a few minutes. He dips his head back in when he hears her "yea."

With his nose buried in her curls, he licks and swirls his tongue over her and into her, groaning at her taste. After a few moments, he brings it to her clit with a purpose.

"Oh…yessssss."

He loves everything about eating her out, the feel of her on his tongue and lips, her taste, and the whimpers and moans that flowed unwittingly from her mouth. The eroticism helped by the slightly forbidden nature of doing it in a hot, humid shower while the rest of the house was asleep. It doesn't take long before he's hard and craving friction.

He turns his body to the side so he can lodge his shoulder under her thigh for support and move his hand to between his own legs. She looks down, curious at the movement. She sees him, face buried between her legs, eyes squeezed shut, his hand moving frantically over his cock.

"Shit, El."

"Mmmm, come on baby." He didn't use the term often, usually escaping his lips when he was too overcome to stop it, and currently he was dangerously too close to the edge, he needed her to come.

Luck was on his side. She came just seconds later, gripping his head holding him to her as her hips bucked, riding his tongue and lips and chin. He moved both hands to hold her up, letting her move freely and extend her pleasure.

But the instant he feels her hips slow he stands up, grips the back of her head with one hand and pulls her into a bruising kiss. She can feel the knuckles of his other sweeping across her belly with each stroke of his fist. "Hmmm, let me," she says against his lips and lowers her hand to take over his movements, his hands retreating to her hip.

If he had a choice, he'd pick her up and hold her against the wall while he thrust into her or bend her over and fuck into her from behind, he wasn't picky, he just wanted to be inside her, be gripped by her, explode in her. But she's made it clear, several times, that intercourse was out of the question in the shower for fear of slipping and falling.

"You'll break your hip, El," she taunted him one morning. He took the joke as a personal challenge and showed her just how strong his hips were, taking her up against her sink the second they were out of the shower.

He hoped to change her mind someday, but that day was not today.

His head rests on her shoulder, and he watches her stroke over him with practiced expertise. She knew exactly how hard to grip, how fast to move, where to focus attention.

"Fuck, so good baby," he grits out, and then buries his face concealing his groans in the crook of her neck. His hand beats against the tiles next to her head and he explodes over her stomach.

"Hmmmm, that's good, baby." Olivia mocks his use of the moniker, as she rinses her hands in the spray and then lightly scratches his back, his chest still heaving against hers.

"Huh?"

"Nothing, El."

Olivia pads down the hall back to the bedroom dressed in Elliot's robe. On her way she sees Eli standing in his doorway trying to scrub away sleep with both hands on his face.

"Good morning Eli," she greets, surprised to see him awake this early. Being a typical teen, he often stayed up late on his computer and slept in, usually not joining them until lunch time. "Are you going to go with us to the zoo today?"

Elliot promised Noah a trip to the zoo after he spent their entire Monday night dinner rattling off countless facts about Arctic life he'd learned in science class and begging to go see Polar Bears and Penguins. Eli was invited to go, of course, but Olivia and Elliot figured it'd be impossible to drag him out of bed before noon. The fact that Maureen and Carl were joining them with Kieran and Seamus, seemed to be the real draw. After spending so much time at Maureen's when they first arrived from Rome, Carl and Eli got along really well despite the 20+ year age gap.

"Mmm hmmm," he hums sleepily.

"That's great. We plan on leaving after breakfast."

"Mmm 'kay," he mumbles.

She chuckles as she shut herself back in Elliot's room, amused by Eli's semi-conscious state, knowing that she will be dealing with her own teenage son in just a few short years.

Eli shuffles his way to the bathroom, stepping aside as his dad exits the steamy room with only a towel around his waist, Olivia having commandeered his robe.

Eli's mental computation was just as lethargic as his body, so the scene took a few seconds to register. But once it did, Eli didn't contain his repulsion.

"Ugh! Dad, that's disgusting!"

"What are you squalling about?" Elliot asks, confused and somewhat irked by his son's sudden outcry.

"She! … You! … You both? …UGH!" Eli struggles in his disgust to form a coherent thought and a dramatic shudder works through his body and he starts back towards his room.

Elliot intercepts him and drags him away from the bedrooms and into the living room, looking back over his shoulder to make sure Olivia didn't hear. Elliot didn't want Eli's outburst to ruin the day before it started.

Looking round the room, seeing his mother at the kitchen table with tea and the newspaper and Noah snoozing on the couch, "Quietly now, Noah's still sleeping," Elliot instructs, "What is your problem?"

"We have one bathroom dad, one!"

"I know this, and we aren't keeping you from it."

"We - that's the problem - we!"

Eli's grievance starts to dawn on Elliot. Trying to decide the best way to handle the situation, Elliot starts pacing. But he struggles to think of the correct response as he hears Eli still going on in a scandalized tone.

"You and her, together; in the shower, together."

Elliot snaps "Stop! You are overreacting. It's a shower."

"Daaaaad!" desperate to get his father to understand outrage, "That's our only shower!"

Elliot, honestly not knowing the best response and just wants the conversation to end, tosses his hands up and declares "I'm not listening to this." He heads to the kitchen to fix Olivia a cup of coffee and instructs Eli without looking back over his shoulder, "We are leaving in less than an hour, go take a shower."

Eli follows Elliot, walking up the island in the kitchen, ready to continue in his own defense, but before he could start, Noah - who they didn't realize woke up and had been sitting on the couch - jumps up and offers, "I can take a shower!"

Noah was already a child who took great care with appearance, always fashionably dressed, each outfit completed with cool shoes. But Noah loved taking a shower at Elliot's place. Elliot let him use his body wash and the 10-year-old got a kick out of smelling like a man rather than the childish cotton-candy scented wash his mom still bought for him.

Eli throws his hands in Noah's direction, thankful for the young and innocent boy's offer, "Let Noah take a shower first, I can wait."

Elliot pulls a mug from the cupboard before turning and glaring at Eli, then, looking down at Noah, he says with a fake smile, trying to hide his frustration, "Thank you Noah, but Eli needs to go take a shower now," the last word being grit through his teeth, "You can eat breakfast first."

"Come over here Noah, I'll fix you some eggs once Elliot's done in the kitchen," offers Bernie, who'd been silently watching the father-son dispute behind her paper. Noah scampers off to meet Bernie at the table.

Eli stands his ground, demanding, "At least tell me you cleaned it."

"It's a shower Eli, the water…soap…ugh!" he bangs the mug on the counter, "It's a shower!"

And we didn't even have sex, not really, Elliot thinks to himself. Though he scolds himself at the thought immediately. Elliot knows that he's splitting hairs. After spending more than a decade as a sex crimes detective, Elliot knows that "sex" is more than penetration and what he and Liv did this morning, well…it wasn't the point.

"I use that shower!"

Knowing that this conversation is going nowhere fast and doing nothing but raising his blood pressure, Elliot uses a deep breathing and calming exercise he learned in therapy. He closes his eyes, inhales and exhales deeply, and counts silently to five before addressing Eli.

Elliot looks at Eli and with a sense of finality in his voice, says, "This conversation is over. If you are coming with us to the zoo, then you need to get ready." He doesn't give Eli a chance to respond, turning back to the coffee maker but he does have to pretend to ignore Eli's muttering and the slam of the bathroom door.

A couple minutes, and a few slammed cupboard doors later, Elliot hears Eli shout, "Where is the tile cleaner?" Elliot, in his anger, considers not telling him, but seeing his mother's disapproving glare, shouts back, "It's under the sink."

Olivia, dressed for the day and hair pulled back, walks into the kitchen and sees Elliot leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed over his bare chest and his jaw clenched.

"El, why are you still in a towel…and in the kitchen?"

It's Bernie who supplies the answer, "Eli realized you two were canoodling in the shower and is now demanding that it be scrubbed clean."

Olivia covers her mouth, "Oh my…" It's going to be a long day.