"You can't keep - oh - doing this every time you wanna - oh, god - win a fight," she panted at him, her hips bucking recklessly in time to the punishing thrusts of his fingers inside her.
"Ain't about winning, baby," he told her, grinning, watching her hungrily as she chased her pleasure at his hand, her body slick and soft and warm and the sexiest goddamn thing he'd ever seen in his life. "I just wanna make you feel good."
He said it because it was true, and because he knew there was no winning, with Liv, not really. This thing between them wasn't about a struggle for power, wasn't about one of them bringing the other to heel, wasn't about capitulation or proving who was right; they'd fought before and they were gonna fight again and there was no one keeping score, no cosmic tally of victories and losses, no final winner. There was just him, and her, and the way they needed one another; just him, and her, and the love and the trust and the want that bound them together. Just him, kneeling over her, two thick fingers buried deep in her wet heat; just her, and the spread of her thighs and the title of her hips, accepting him. Just this, a soft bed at her back and the quiet of the night draped over them like a blanket, comforting and warm, this momentary sanctuary they had carved out for themselves in the midst of a world that meant to tear them apart.
There were so many questions yet to answer, so many choices still to make, but for now this was enough. Sweat-slicked skin and her panting moans and the fluttering of her velvet heat around his fingers, a piece of unbridled joy in the midst of a sea of doubt.
"Elliot," she called his name, not loud enough to wake her son but loud enough for it to ring through Elliot's ears like a chorus of angels. Christ, it felt good to hear her call his name. To be here, with her, not lying, not running, not pretending to be anything other than what they were.
"Right here, baby," he answered, dropping his mouth to the curve of her breast, her hands clutching his head tight to her while his beard burned across her skin and his fingers curled deep, deep within her, fingertips finding the spot that made her see stars when he touched it, her entire body tensing around him as he pushed her higher, and higher still.
Though he ached with need of her, though his cock was rock hard and leaking for her, though he wanted, desperately, to catch her thighs in his hands and slide between them, he held off, for now, determined to make her come before he chased his own release. He wanted to see it, wanted to feel it, wanted to prolong her delicious agony until she wept for him, wanted to bathe them both in the glorious rapture of her desire. Wanted to make her feel good, and wanted that goodness to do what his words could not, and convince her at last that his dreams for their future could come true. Wanted to convince himself that there was a way to save them all, a way for him and Kathy and Olivia and all their children to be safe and happy. Maybe that was too much to ask of an orgasm though; maybe there was nothing on earth that could give him what he wanted most.
She was close, though; he felt it in the trembling of her muscles, in the clenching of her cunt around his fingers, heard it in the tenor of her voice as she keened for him.
"Come on, Liv," he grunted into the softness of her breast. "Lemme see it. Come on."
It seemed she could not spare the breath to speak; she didn't answer him with words, but with the endless undulations of her body, until finally she snapped like a tree in a storm, wrapped her arms and legs around him as best she could and bucked up into him, hard, trapping his hand between them while her pussy convulsed around his fingers and her soft mouth panted praise into the tender skin at his temple.
The moment she began to relax he moved; withdrew his hand from her center, wrapped his dripping fingers around her lean thigh and spread her legs wide for him, and watched unblinking as he buried his cock inside her. She turned her face into the pillow, let it muffle the sound of her crying out for him while he took her, surging within her at a brutal, delirious pace that left them both groaning and breathless. It didn't take long, but he knew it wasn't gonna; she was too perfect, and he wanted her too badly, and in time at all he was spilling himself inside her, biting his own lip to keep from calling her name too loudly.
But he wasn't done, not yet; while she lay beneath him, shaking and gasping, he drew his hips back, watched in fascination as his cock slid slowly out of her and his cum followed, pulsing out of her in time to the contractions of her inner muscles. They should've been more careful, he knew, should've talked about this, should've spared a single moment's thought for consequences, especially given that they'd both been fucking other people, but what he felt then, watching her, was not apprehension, but pride. Something smug and base and primal surged within him at the sight of him dripping out of her, and he reached for her at once, gathered his cum on his fingers and fucked it back into her, painting her walls with the wetness of them while she whimpered and panted please please please. It was right, he thought, it was good, him inside of her, the way she was inside of him, her carrying him around with her the way he carried her within his heart.
You can't forget about me, he thought as he thrust his fingers in deep, deep, deep. You can't forget this.
At last it grew to be too much; she caught his wrist in her hand and pulled him away from her, shuddering, and he collapsed beside her, painted nonsense patterns on her breast with his damp fingers while they both tried to catch their breath.
"We have to be more careful," she finally gasped at him, her dark eyes fluttering open and fixing at once upon his face. She really did have the prettiest eyes, he thought. The kind of eyes a man could drown in.
"If you want me to use a condom…" he started to say, though the idea disquieted him for reasons he did not wish to examine.
"That's not what I meant," she said, grimacing a little as she rubbed her thighs together, no doubt a little uncomfortable now from the mess he'd made of her. "But it's probably not a bad idea."
"What did you mean?"
"I keep forgetting who I'm supposed to be," she said. "When I'm with you, I keep forgetting about Lindsey. But we can't risk anybody overhearing us, Elliot. We can't keep talking outside. I can't be Olivia outside of this house."
"You're right," he agreed. Lindsey and Marshall, that's who they were supposed to be, and tonight they'd been standing in her backyard, too caught up in their own shit and the feeling of isolation the night had wrapped around them to remember that she had neighbors, that this place lacked the anonymity they'd grown accustomed to in the city.
"But that reminds me, there's something I need to tell you."
When he texted her tonight, when he asked to talk, there'd been something specific on his mind. He'd forgotten, though, distracted by her revelation about Paul and by her continuing protests and by her earth-shattering beauty, but his mind was clearer than it had been, and he remembered, now.
"Why does that make me nervous?"
"You don't have to be nervous," he said. "You aren't gonna like it, but everything's gonna be ok."
She rolled onto her side, propped her chin in her hand and stared at him, and he tried to meet her eyes, and not glance down to the soft weight of her tits, to the curve of her belly where he longed to press a tender kiss.
"Paul got in Jackie's face a few days ago," Elliot confessed, and Olivia groaned.
"He told her Marshall cheated on her. She knows about…about us."
It was too close, he thought, too close for comfort; Jackie wasn't his wife, but he did have a wife. He'd not been unfaithful to Jackie, but he'd been unfaithful to Kathy, and he'd lied to them both. Jackie knew the truth now and Kathy had decided to leave him, didn't need to know the truth of his betrayal to force her hand, but he knew the truth. He knew what he had done, and it weighed on him. Did Kathy really need to know? Did it even matter? The priest would say it mattered. Kathy would probably say it mattered. But wasn't it just easier, to keep this secret to himself?
Was the easy thing ever the right thing?
Beside him Olivia stiffened, and then rolled slowly away from him, sat up on the edge of the bed with her back to him and her feet on the floor, running her fingers through her thick hair, and though he could not see her face he knew that she was frowning.
"So, we're fucked," she said grimly.
"That depends on how you look at it -"
"Oh my god, Elliot -"
"Jackie knows, and she's taking me off your case."
Olivia turned to stare at him over the curve of her shoulder, her expression baleful and dark, and he wondered, for a moment, what she was thinking. If she was angry with Paul for revealing her secrets, or angry with Elliot for dragging her into this mess. Wondered if she thought this was just another betrayal, just another excuse for him to walk away from her. If that was what she believed, then she was wrong.
"And I think that's a good thing, Liv."
"I don't see how -"
"Listen to me," he said, and then he moved, shuffled across the bed and hauled himself upright, pressed his chest against her back and slid his legs out alongside her hips, sitting up behind her and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He rested his chin lightly on her shoulder, and spoke quietly, directly into her ear.
"If I'm not on your detail anymore, we've got more options. Maybe I don't stay with the Marshals. Maybe I find a different job. Something that'll make it a little easier to travel back and forth from here to the city. If I'm not a Marshal maybe it's not the end of the world if someone finds out we're together. You wouldn't be under my protection any more-"
"I'm not supposed to have contact with anyone from my old life -"
"You think the cartel knows who I am? They think you're dead, Liv, they got no reason to go looking up your old partner -"
"It's still such a risk, Elliot. All we're doing is taking risks, and I'm supposed to be…I've got to think about Noah. I've got to think about his safety."
And now Elliot was right back where he'd been earlier in the night; it would be so much easier if they were married, if he could be part of the program, too, change his name and fit himself into Olivia's new life. But she was right; he couldn't abandon his children. The thought of never seeing them again pierced him like a knife, guilt and grief both choking the life from him.
"I know," he said. "And I will do everything I can to keep him safe."
"Everything but walk away from me."
"Everything but that," he agreed, kissing her shoulder gently.
Maybe he should've been willing to leave, for the sake of her boy if nothing else. Maybe that made him a selfish son of a bitch. But he couldn't leave Liv, not again, couldn't do that to himself and damn sure couldn't do that to her.
"I hate this," she murmured softly, her fingers dancing gently across the backs of his hands where they were gathered together low on her belly. "But maybe you're right. If you're not on my detail no one has any reason to keep tabs on us."
"They don't," he agreed. It wasn't like the Marshals kept up 24 hour surveillance on their charges; the witnesses were by and large left to run their own lives alone. The Marshals checked in, now and again, but visits were usually few and far between. No one would know if Elliot was spending time with Olivia, as long as they didn't do anything stupid and get themselves caught. Stolen moments like this one could belong to them, and them alone. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough time spent with her, but it was all that he could hope for, right now.
"I can't believe Paul told Jackie," she mused.
"The guy's a prick," Elliot grumbled. "The way he did it, it's like he was excited. Like he just couldn't wait to throw you under the bus and wreck my marriage."
"It's typical, isn't it?" she said darkly. "I didn't see it at first, but it's all so clear now. It was textbook abuser behavior, El. He tried to break down my self-confidence, he tried to control me, and him telling Jackie, that was him trying to isolate me from my friends. He wanted me alone and dependent on him."
I'll fucking kill him, Elliot thought, his arms tightening their hold on Olivia.
"I almost fell for it," she confessed, her voice so soft and sad he could barely hear it. "It just seemed like he was the answer to all my problems, like he was gonna make everything so much easier. I can't believe I was so stupid."
"You weren't stupid," Elliot insisted at once. "Guys like him…they hid who they really are. You didn't see it because he didn't let you see it."
"I see it now," she said. "This thing with his wife…I can see it, El. I can believe he did that. And I let him into my home -"
"Don't blame yourself for that," Elliot told her firmly. "You didn't do anything wrong. And now you know, and you won't let him back in, and we are gonna find out the truth. If he did this, Liv, if he killed her…we're gonna get him."
She didn't answer him, just laced her fingers through his and held on tight, but he didn't need her words to know what she was thinking. As a pair, as partners, as investigators, there was no one better, but there had been plenty of perps over the years who'd slipped through their fingers. They didn't always find their man. If they investigated Paul but didn't have enough to put him behind bars, the whole house of cards would come tumbling down. They didn't have any other choice, though; they were Benson and Stabler, and they could not let an injustice stand, no matter how much the fight might cost them.
