This idea has been stuck in my brain for a couple weeks- I need to get it out so I can resolve some of the cliffhangers I dropped in my other stories! This is a little different than what I usually do. I like dialogue. This doesn't have much...at all. Let me know what you think! I'm always nervous when I try out something different!

There's an ache in you out there by the ache in me.

Taylor Swift

The sun poured through the window when Olivia finally stretched awake. It only took a moment for her to realize she wasn't at home, and she wasn't in her own bed. A fluffy comforter was tucked around her and despite being stripped bare, she felt warm.

She laid on her stomach with her arms wrapped tightly around a down pillow. The weight of a heavy well muscled arm laid limply over her back. Even in sleep he claimed her, and she began to realize that he always had.

Feeling the sudden desire to see his face, she shifted closer and rolled on her side. His arm remained draped over her, and for the first time in a long time she felt safe.

It was perfect, he was perfect, and everything she thought it would be. But it was a mistake.

She resisted the urge to run her fingers over his stubbled jaw, always fierce, but now completely relaxed in sleep. She tried to commit this moment, and every moment from the night before, to memory because she knew it was only a matter of time before it was all ripped away.

She knew it was only a matter of time before she screwed this up, and in the process she would drag him down with her. She would break him because she always broke everything. Like an accident prone child, everything she touched turned to dust in her hands. She kept saying that she worried about him leaving again, but in reality she didn't trust herself. She burned every bridge she had ever built, and she couldn't hurt him like that. She loved him. She watched him mourn the loss of his wife, and if she broke him…

Maybe it was better to end things now before things got out of hand. As if things hadn't already gotten out of hand. She had spent months waiting for him to come home from his assignment. Months with his compass necklace draped around her neck. Months of wondering what it all meant, and if she could actually take the leap.

She took the leap, but now she was scared shitless.

He came home, surprisingly, in one piece. She expected him to be battered and bruised. The man never backed down from a fight, so when he stood at the bottom of the precinct stairs, his warm breath puffing a light fog in the January air, she almost thought she was hallucinating.

She played it cool, approaching slowly, even if everything inside of her wanted to throw herself into his arms. He gave her that infuriating grin as she approached, but she couldn't help the smile that crept across her face in return.

It all felt natural, very them. He asked her if she wanted a drink, and she suggested going to his place. She insisted it was because he looked exhausted, but really she just wanted to be alone with him.

They sat in the kitchen at the counter, drinks in hand, and it all felt so natural. So right. They caught each other up on the happenings of the past seven months. He told her about the case, and she told him about work, her new team members, and Noah. It all felt so warm, so perfect, so right.

She felt no hesitation, no fear, when she leaned in and kissed him. When she pulled back, his goofy grin made her smile, and go back for more. She felt him hesitate, and he seemed unwilling to push for more than she was willing to give. And she loved him for it.

In the end, she pushed him. Once she had a taste…there was no going back. Tender kisses gave way to open mouths and sliding tongues. Her hand wandered, finally pressing into his abs. Her hands beneath his shirt elicited a feral sort of groan from his throat, but his hands remained stubbornly glued chastely to her hips.

She let her hands swoop from his abs around towards his well muscles back, effectively pressing her whole body against his. His restraint was really impressive. She was practically groping his ass, and he remained stubbornly restrained, only allowing his mouth to taste and explore hers.

It wasn't until she growled, "More," against his mouth, and practically shoved his rough hands up her shirt that he began to move. His hands moved blissfully over her skin, and suddenly he was everywhere. He didn't need her direction anymore. He knew what he wanted, and she was more than willing to give him everything.

Shirts billowed to the floor before they even made it out of the kitchen. He pressed sucking kisses down her neck, all the while muttering phrases of complete adoration. "You're incredible." "Jesus Liv. You're so damn beautiful." As his tongue ran the length of her bra line he mumbled, "So perfect. God you're so perfect."

She wasn't a fool. Her body wasn't what it once was. She was soft, curvy, and scarred, but Elliot didn't seem to see any of that. Or maybe he did, but he still was in awe with what he saw. He saw her, and to him, she was perfect.

When his hands shucked her pants aside, and she laid completely bare before him she don't feel scared. She didn't feel vulnerable. She felt seen. Really seen. She felt loved and understood by the one soul who always knew her, and always loved what he saw.

Before they crossed the line she thought they'd never cross, before he carried her off into a second mind blowing oblivion, he asked, "Olivia are you sure?"

She was sure. She was blissfully warm and well loved. He loved her. She was sure of that, even before he whispered it in her ear as they both toppled over the edge. At that moment she was so sure of him. Of her. Of them.

But now she was terrified.

His breathing remained smooth and even as he slept. It all felt surreal. Waking in his bed, tangled in his sheets. Dream like. This feeling of happiness she felt in her chest was so consuming. It felt incredibly foreign, and she knew it wouldn't last. It never did.

She took a slow breath to calm the emotion creeping to the surface. She couldn't cry. If she cried she would wake him, and if he opened his eyes she would get lost in the depths of those baby blues. She would get so lost she might never leave, and she knew she needed to leave.

So she carefully tucked her emotions away. It was something she was well practiced at. If she could remove all emotion she could be spared the pain.

With as little movement as possible she slipped out from beneath his arm and out of his bed. She dressed in her clothes that had been scattered about his apartment.

She felt tears sting her eyes as she reached for the door knob. Moments ago she felt incredibly warm, but now all she felt was bitter cold.

And the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own

To leave the warmest bed I've ever known

We could call it even

Even though I'm leavin'

And I'll be yours for the weekend

'Tis the damn season

-Taylor Swift-