O: You up?
It's almost 3 in the morning and Olivia's somehow still awake. She'd had a long, tedious day at work, but her brain wouldn't allow her body to rest like it so desperately wanted to. She looks back down at her phone, seeing that he hasn't read her text and decides that she'll wake him if he isn't already up.
She clicks his contact photo and presses the little phone icon, putting the device on speaker. The first ring is loud in the quiet room and she quickly taps the volume button several times to lower it. He answers on the fourth ring, but doesn't say anything; when she hears a female voice in the background she almost hangs up.
It's muffled, but she can just make out what the woman is saying; "What does your ex-wife need at this hour?"
Olivia doesn't care for her tone and suddenly she doesn't feel bad about interrupting them.
"Don't worry about that." He sounds far away, "Here, don't forget this."
The woman huffs loudly, "can we at least have a rain check?"
"Yeah," he says unconvincingly, but his guest can't tell the difference like she can. "I'll let you know."
He won't. Especially, not if she can help it.
"You have my number, right?" She hears the woman ask as Elliot is, no doubt, shuffling her out of the door.
"Uh huh, be safe." She hears the door close and the click of his lock; he finally addresses her. "Hey, everything alright?
"You didn't have to answer if you were with company."
"Olivia, stop. You call me at 3 am, or any time for that matter, I'm answering. I don't care how many times I have to say it; you're still my number one."
She just hums in response.
"What are you doing up so late anyway?"
"Can't sleep," she sighs. "I'm tired but I just can't relax. It's like my brain won't stop."
"Need some help with that?" His tone lowers considerably, causing a sudden ache between her thighs.
"Elliot, you know I don't like phone sex."
"That's not what I meant," she can hear the smile through his voice.
"You don't have to do that. I'll doze off eventually."
"I know I don't have to; I want to."
She's silent on the other end, contemplating if she should agree or not. They've been trying to cut down on the amount of time they spend together; really, she has. "Divorced couples shouldn't be together this much. Shouldn't be having sex," she'd told him a month ago. But they just couldn't seem to let go of one another.
Aside from the fact that they were two busy cops, with little time to devote to anyone new; they were still madly in love with each other. Elliot had made it clear on several occasions that he'd come home in a heartbeat if only she'd let him. Plus, the sex was way too good to give up.
"I'll come. Just say yes."
She hears him moving around, then the jingle of his keys is loud in the distance. It makes her think of him in his car; large, veiny hands gripping the steering wheel as he speeds through the streets of Manhattan to get to her. That dull throb in her core becomes a pulsing rhythm. She always loved to be in the passenger seat watching him handle a car as well as he handled her body.
"Let me know when you're coming up so I can unlock the door."
"You got it."
Her phone pings half an hour later and she's slipping out of bed, quietly padding down the hall; she checks in on Noah, who's dead to the world and quietly pulls his door closed. She unlocks the front door and opens it just as he's stepping off the elevator, looking handsome in jeans, a white t-shirt, and a leather jacket.
"You left a date to come here?" she asks in mock disbelief. She knew the power she held over him.
"Eh," he shrugs his shoulders as he approaches. "Wasn't really a date."
She steps back, holding the door open wider for him to pass through; eyeing him as he toed out of his size eleven boots. She quickly closes and locks the door before following him to their—her bedroom. He's losing his jacket as she shuts the door, then she feels him reaching for her.
"C'mere," he says in that low, gravelly tone that makes her saturate her boyshorts. His hands grasp her hips, pulling her groin flush against his, "wanna talk about it?"
"That's not what you're here for."
She starts to pull away but his fingers wrap easily around her upper arm, bringing her body back to his. The other hand slides behind her neck in an attempt to pull her in for a kiss.
"Don't kiss me," she turns her head to stop his lips from connecting with hers.
"You're taking away kisses too?" He sounds heartbroken, but she knows he's just being playfully dramatic.
"I know you kissed her. You just can't help yourself; you're a kisser and I'm not swapping spit with you after you've had your tongue down someone else's throat."
His jaw clenches when he finds no argument that'll work for her, deciding that it'd be better to just lift her off her feet and take her to bed. His hands grip her under her arms and begin to lift her, turning and tossing her onto the bed in a show of false upset.
She smirks but her eyes never reach his, stalking his hands as if she's a predator and they're her prey. They land on the shining silver of his belt buckle, fingers deftly undoing it and his pants. He let's them hang open while he crosses his arms and grasps the hem of the white cotton; skillfully removing his shirt in one swift movement.
She whimpers low in her throat, pressing her thighs together, trying to soothe the burning ache down below. He's hard all over and her heart twinges as abrupt memories of him making love to her in the early morning flit through her mind. Since their separation, she always made him leave before Noah woke up; wanting to avoid any confusion or misplaced hope within her son. She zones back in when his thumb and forefinger gently grasp her chin.
"Not right now." He knows her, knows every facial expression and look in her eyes that could ever occur. It's only natural that he'd recognize when she's being sucked into the past. "Take off your top."
She follows his order, letting him lead her back to the present moment. She's bare, save for the navy-blue panties that are clearly soaked in the center.
He's lost his pants now and is climbing onto the bed, following as she inches back toward the mass of pillows. He had a job to do, although it was his pleasure, and he had to follow through. Her legs separate, giving him room to settle between her thighs. He pulls her panties down, tossing them to the side.
She's wet, but not enough for her to take all of him comfortably. He knows what she needs, their bodies so in tune that they don't need to speak to communicate.
His open mouth covers her, tongue flattening over the expanse of smooth skin from bottom to top. On the path back down his tongue splits her lips, finding her clit easily. He circles it, teasing and flicking; coaxing the arousal from her sex.
"I want it in me," she moans.
His tongue pushes forward, exploring her depths. He doesn't care if his jaw is sore by the end of the night, he'll do whatever she needs him to do to get her off. His head bobs back and forth, tongue entering her over and over again; it curls upward, seeking out that spongy area that made her fist the sheets in ecstasy.
"I- Oh, fuck."
His eyes dart up to catch the desperate expression on her face; eyes squeezed shut, mouth fallen open. His top lip nudges her sensitive clit each time he pushes forward and her legs tighten around his head.
"Oh, oh, oh." Her pitch rises with each word expelled. Her fingers grip his skull, holding him in place as she helps him guide her to an impending climax. He opens her up further, pushing her leg up to her chest with his hand under her thigh. His long tongue reaches a new depth and her body twists in his grip, his hands doing their best to hold her hips down. The combination of him tongue kissing her pussy and his bruising grasp has the spring of arousal in her belly uncoiling.
"Elliot! El-" She turns her face into the pillow, cutting of her cries for him.
She grinds against his face until she can stand no more, going limp as her orgasm ebbed. He presses gentle, open-mouthed kisses on her inner thigh; resting until she signals that she's ready for more.
She pulls him up by his arm, lifting her legs onto his hips. She's dripping for him, wet enough that he can easily slide in, but he wants her wide open. He slips one arm under her knee, pushing the leg up and back into her chest. He's rock hard; so much so that he doesn't need his hand to guide him inside of her.
One of her hands is above his on the underside of her knee, the other gripping his firm bicep, hips lifting to meet his. He dips his head down, sucking a puckered nipple into his mouth. Her head lolls back, back arching and pushing her breast further into his face.
He switches sides, fitting as much of her in his mouth as possible. Her breath catches in her throat as her nails press crescent shaped marks into his skin. He pulls back, circling his hips as he moves in and out of her.
"You're so fucking pretty, mama."
She's looking him in the eyes, dominating him with a seductive gaze that never ceases to put him in a trance, lower lip caught between her teeth. He wants so badly to pull it free and suck it into his mouth, but she's made it clear; no kisses tonight.
He pulls out abruptly and flips her onto her stomach; "Can't look at your face and not kiss you."
He straddles her legs, both of her thighs tight between his knees; his cock is pressing into her, just under the swell of her ass.
"You're gonna have to be quiet," he taunts, knowing how much she loves this position and how hard it is for her to keep her voice down when he's balls deep inside of her this way. "Hold it open for me."
He guides her hands to her ass, letting her grip and pull herself apart as he balances on his knees above her. His lips part and he lets three drops of spit fall to her opening, using the tip of his hard length to spread it up and down. It's unnecessary, but the sight makes him harder, if that's even possible. He tests her, she's tighter this way; slowly, he pushes past the ring of muscle, eyes fixed on the way she stretches around his girth.
"Oooh," she groans. The way he's inching in and pulling back, then going deeper every time has her breath hitching in her throat. In and out, in and out; slowly until the base of his cock meets the tips of her fingers and she's hissing at the pinch.
He slide his arms under hers, lowering himself onto his elbows, front molding to the shape of her backside. His hips set a tortuous pace; he holds the power in this position and always uses it to drive her to insanity. But that was apart of the experience; one of the reasons why she loved it when he pinned her down and gave her no way to escape.
"This what you needed? Me to come put you to sleep?" His breath is hot against her neck, tickling the skin and heightening her physical awareness. "Anytime you need me, don't you hesitate."
He sits back on his heels already missing the sight, knees fitted around her hips, watching himself disappear in her wet heat. He's struggling to keep this steady pace, wanting nothing more than to plunge into her until neither of them could see straight.
The sight of their combined fluids coating his dick each time he slides out is mesmerizing, but he can only go so deep this way. He leans forward again, needing to be close to her, locking his arms underneath hers.
"You've got the best pussy ever." The squelching of his dick pushing into her tight, wet heat is consistent, his hips slowly but firmly driving into her; grazing her g-spot with each deep dive. "The tightest, wettest, sweetest pussy I've ever had. Fuck, your pussy is perfect."
His words do something dangerous to her, make her feel like there's no one above her; she's on a pedestal when he feeds into the praise kink they'd discovered together. The first time she'd squirted happened to be the first time he cooed to her; telling her how perfect she was, fingers curled deeply inside of her. He always knew just what to say and do to send her full force into blissful oblivion.
"Faster," she instructs.
"What do you say?"
"Please."
He speeds up just a bit, not fully giving her what she wants yet. She can't hold herself open anymore, now face first in her pillow, fingers fisted in the sheets, pulling them up from the corners of the mattress.
"This pussy's still mine, right?"
She moans and nods her head; he registers her muffled plea for him not to stop.
"Tell me," he growls in her ear. "Tell me it's still mine and I won't stop."
"It's yours. Oh God, it's yours!" She cries; desperately in need of release. She'll say anything he wants to hear right now.
He lifts from his elbows to support himself on his palms, using the leverage to add more force to his thrusts. Their skin meeting gets louder and his hand shoots out, failing miserably to stop the headboard from bumping into the wall again and again.
"Fuck, baby." She's clenching so tightly around him; he's only a few more strokes away from unloading deep inside of her and he needs her to come with him, that was the whole reason he was here. "You close?"
She's mumbling incoherently, groaning 'fuck' and 'yes' and 'please' repeatedly. Her hand slides underneath her body, frantically slipping over her clit; it's just enough to make her explode and pull him so deep inside of her that he's sheathed like Excalibur. He can't move, but there's no need to; the pulsing squeeze of her walls around him is draining in the best way possible.
Thankfully, her loud whimpers are lost in the pillow and he's somehow managed to hold up his weight through the extent of his climax, letting her quivering body shake without the added pressure of his. He sighs, pulling out of her and rolling onto his back, "fucking amazing."
"That was never our problem," she breathes.
"Too bad it couldn't keep us together," his hand rubs up and down from her lower back to the middle of her thigh, eyes stuck on the ceiling.
"Shh, don't ruin this."
A deep laugh rumbles in his chest as he lifts his right arm up and around her head, inviting her in for a cuddle.
She readjusts, her head relaxes against his bicep, "Thanks for coming, anyway."
"Livie, I'd still move heaven and earth for you. No matter the time of day or night."
"You can't keep saying shit like that," she whispers tiredly.
"Why?"
"Cause it makes it harder for me to let you go."
"Then don't," his fingers gently caress her damp curls, lulling her to sleep. "Stay right here with me forever."