A/N: I'm starting to think nobody actually reads these notes. Again, 10 reviews are nothing to ask for when considering how much time, energy, and creativity it takes to write. I won't post the 4th and final installment until there are 10. To see who's paying attention, I will block anyone who solely favorites or follows this story.
Olivia's nervous and feels ridiculous about it. She's known Elliot nearly half the time she's been in the world. They've kissed, passionately so, on more than one instance and he's seen her about 90% naked already. It would've been 100% if her MDMA-riddled mind had any say but thank God Elliot didn't let it get that far. She probably wouldn't have remembered it and the first time they intimately join, she wants to be able to recall every sight, sound, and sensation.
So, she moisturizes her skin after showering and dabs on an indulgently priced scent she bought during a retail therapy trip to 5th Avenue. During the same little spending spree, she purchased a maroon-colored satin and lace bra and panty set on a whim. Olivia looks at herself in a full-length mirror. It's a perfect complement to her golden skin tone. If he doesn't fall dead from a heart attack after seeing her in it, it'll be a good night.
But it's not their lovemaking she's nervous about. It's what comes after that has her concerned. The sex will be the easy part. The fun part. But memories of their past arguments come to mind. The personal digs. Underlying issues they avoided. Obstacles they just plain ignored for the sake of their partnership or because they were too uncomfortable discussing them.
Olivia isn't naïve. She knows much of that had to do with denying their physical attraction and how they felt. But it was also just their personalities. As well as they work together, they've disagreed on more than a few things over the years. She's justified in worrying whether or not an intimate relationship between them will be successful.
However, Olivia has decided that tonight will not be about giving in to her anxiety-driven thoughts. So, she takes a few deep breaths, wiggles her fingers, flexes her toes, and reaches for tonight's ensemble. It's something new just for their first date. Her take on a traditional LBD.
It's a black cinched-waist sweater dress with a turtle neck. It's soft to the touch and makes her feel feminine, sexy. She accents it with a silver necklace that has a lotus pendant and matching dangling earrings. Calf-length black leather boots with three-inch heels complete the look.
When Olivia steps into the living room, Noah stops the video game he's playing to check her progress.
"Wow, mom," he says, smiling. "You look amazing. Elliot's gonna freak."
"Thank you, baby," she says, laughing at his phrasing. "I think."
Two knocks interrupt their conversation.
"I'll get it," he says. "It's probably, Martha."
"Just make sure—"
"—I know, I know," Noah says. "Check the peephole first and ask who it is."
Olivia doesn't care if he thinks she's overprotective, she'll never take the assumption of safety in her own home for granted again. Thankfully it is just the babysitter. The captain takes the woman's coat, puts it in the closet, and removes a mauve-colored double-breasted wool trench with black buttons. She pulls her long wavy hair over the collar in the back and lets it fall to the lapels in the front.
"You look beautiful," Martha says, smiling. "I don't know who he is but he's a lucky man," the older woman tells her. "Call or text if you need me to stay over."
"Thank you," the captain tells her.
Olivia monumentally fails at resisting the blush she knows is coloring her cheeks.
"Eww," Noah comments.
"It wasn't 'eww' when you were being lovey-dovey with Aaron a few weeks ago," she says, grinning. "You gonna be a hypocrite?"
"No," he acquiesces. "Tell Elliot I say 'hi'."
"Will do," she says, taking the win. "Love you, baby. If I get back too late, I'll see you in the morning."
"Okay. Love you, Mom," he says, running back to his video games.
"Don't let him 'five more minutes' you to death at bedtime, okay," she tells Martha. "He can be very persuasive with those puppy dog blues of his."
"I've got grandchildren who try the same thing," she says. "I'm not immune to babies but teenagers?" She asks, looking at Noah. "I'll be just fine."
"Good to know," she tells her. "I'll try not to be too late."
"You're a single mom with a stressful job who works long hours," Martha points out. "You deserve a night out," she adds. "Have fun, Captain."
She intends to.
Olivia gives her an appreciative smile and moves towards the elevator. With the way the security attendant looks at her, she gets the feeling he shares Noah and Martha's opinion of her chosen attire for the night. Her usual flowing walk turns into more of a strut on the way through the automatic doors.
Traffic into Long Island City is better than she expected for a Friday night. As she angles her SUV into a parking spot less than a block away from his apartment, the caterpillars in her stomach are threatening to morph into butterflies but she denies them. She knocks twice on Elliot's door and only has to wait a few moments before he opens it. He stands in a fitted dove-gray and burgundy plaid suit, cornflower blue shirt, and burgundy tie, speechless after a few moments.
"Elliot?"
He blinks a few times, shakes his head, and responds.
"I um, sorry, Liv," he says. "Come in, come in," he adds, kissing her hello on the cheek. "Let me take your coat."
Once she removes the trench, he's cotton-mouthed once again. The top of the dress clings to her ample bosom and he's drawn to the pheromones of her perfume.
"Elliot?" She repeats with a knowing grin. "You okay?"
"I'm—I'm good," he manages. "But…damn," he adds. "You look gorgeous, Olivia," he continues. "I'm glad you accepted my invitation for dinner."
"Finally, right?" She asks, following him through the living room. "And you're looking pretty amazing yourself."
"Thank you."
He removes his suit jacket, tossing it over the sofa before continuing into the kitchen and rolling up his sleeves. She eyes the vascularity of his forearms, the size and strength of his hands, the cut of his slacks, and how it enhances his ass and thinks maybe he won't be the impatient one tonight.
"You had your reservations," he says. "I understand that. With our complicated history, anyone would."
She nods her agreement as she plants herself on a stool at the kitchen counter. He pours a glass of white wine, placing it next to her where a charcuterie board of figs, cheese, crackers, olives, and apple slices sits.
"This looks great, Elliot," Olivia comments. "You didn't have to do all this for little 'ol me."
"Course I did," he says, pausing to taste the food. "This is our first date and I want it to be special," he adds. "After all this time, we deserve that."
"I agree," she tells him, popping a date into her mouth. "So, to where have you exiled your family?"
Elliot smiles before answering.
"I did not exile them," he asserts. "Mama found a memory care center she enjoys that met Kathleen's high expectations," he informs her. "Becky and Eli are spending the weekend with her parents doing a gender-neutral baby shower and happily getting a bunch of useful and free baby gifts."
"Good for them because having a child is anything but cheap," she says, sipping from her wine. "A fact I'm sure I don't have to explain to you," she adds. "Between your kids and grandkids, you almost have enough for a softball team."
"Ha-ha, very funny," Elliot tells her. "I love my kids of course, but it was irresponsible of me to leave the birth control solely up to Kathy," he acknowledges. "Hopefully Eli will make better choices. How's Noah?" He asks. "Dealing with any teenaged angst?"
"No, thank God," Olivia answers, putting some cheese on a cracker. "He's focused on learning choreography for an upcoming winter pageant," she continues. "Which means listening to the same songs on repeat but I've talked him into using his earbuds."
"Smart."
"Which option did you go with for dinner?"
"You said you wanted something on the light side so I got some vegetarian stuffed pasta shells," Elliot answers. "They have ricotta, parmesan, and mozzarella mixed with broccoli and herbs, seasoned with garlic salt and pepper then covered in pasta sauce."
"Wow," she comments. "It sounds great and smells even better," she adds. "If you're trying to make our first date special, I'd say you've succeeded," she tells him.
Elliot approaches, standing at her hip. He leans in slowly, moving to her ear at the last second.
"You haven't tasted it yet," he whispers before leaning back to gauge her response.
Olivia reaches out, grasps him by the tie, and pulls him to her mouth. She grazes on his lower lip until he opens for her and the captain wastes no time dipping her tongue inside to taste him and his savory dinner.
"Damn, that's good," she tells him with a smirk. "I may not leave room for dessert."
"I'm definitely not skipping my dessert," he says a breath away from her face. "You taste too good not to savor," he adds before reconnecting their lips over and over again. She slides her palms up his shoulders and around to his nape to pull him closer.
"I'm hungry," he manages after a minute or two, stopping to breathe.
Olivia's eyes have darkened, her face is flushed, her pupils are blown and she's a minute away from reaching for his belt.
"Not stopping you from eating."
He grins at her innuendo.
"I mean for food, Liv."
She playfully pushes him away and takes a much-needed sip of her Reisling.
"Stop being a tease, Stabler," Olivia says. "I brought my appetite so you'd better feed me."
"Yes, ma'am."
He plates up two pasta shells drizzled with melted cheese and garnished with basil and slides them in front of her before preparing his plate. A basket of sliced toasted sourdough bread with melted butter is placed between them. Elliot surprises her by lighting two candles in crystal holders and then lowering the dimmer switch.
"Eat up, Captain."
She hears what he doesn't say. Eat up because she'll need her strength. Olivia hopes he does the same because he's damn sure not the only one who'll be doing the ravaging. It's been too long.
"This is a great recipe, Elliot."
"You don't wish we would've gone to Fiorello's?"
"Not even a little bit," she answers. "This place has a better…ambiance," she explains, momentarily touching his forearm. "I'm happy to be here."
He's the kind of cook who cleans as he goes along, so after they've had their fill, there's not much to do other than put leftovers in plasticware and load their used plates into the dishwasher. They relocate into the living room with refilled wine glasses as she gets comfortable on his sofa. Olivia watches as he chooses from his shelf of vinyl, pulls one from the sleeve, blows off the dust, and places it on the record player before lowering the arm.
"When did you become such an audiophile?" She asks as he approaches and reaches for her hand.
"Got it last Christmas," Elliot answers as Chris Botti's Italia floats into the room. She puts her arms around his shoulders as they slow dance. He impresses her by twirling her out and back into his hold. Olivia's so damn giddy, she lets a laugh or two escape.
"Surprised by my footwork?"
"Absolutely," she answers. "Since when do you dance?"
"I learned a thing or two for Maureen and Carl's wedding," he tells her. "Guess I still remember a few steps."
"Yeah, you do."
She smiles as he twirls her out and back again.
"Like I said, I wanted tonight to be special."
After a few minutes, Elliot pulls her closer. Their steps slow to the point where they're just holding one another and swaying. Olivia no longer feels the slightest flutter of butterfly-winged nervousness. The only thing on her mind and in her heart is how perfect it all seems to be and, how right. And maybe it's because they waited so long, but it's never been like this with anyone else.
"You cook like a chef and dance like Fred Astaire," she points out. "Any other secret talents or hidden skills?"
Elliot stops their movement, takes both her hands, and presses his mouth on the top of each of them before taking one and leading her to his bedroom. The music is more subtle once they make it there but the melody can still be heard.
"You've been undressing me with your eyes since you walked in," he says, garnering a smile from her. "Here's your chance to take a hands-on approach."
His confidence doesn't turn her off.
"Cocky son of a bitch," she tells him, taking hold of his tie again and pulling his lips and body towards hers. Elliot toes off his shoes and socks as she devours his mouth.
Olivia pulls his tie loose, slipping it over his head as he unrolls his shirt sleeves. He watches as she takes her time revealing his flesh, one button after another. He offers no assistance when she unbuckles his belt, releases the pant hook, and lowers the zipper of his slacks.
"You plan on letting me do all the work?"
"I have this fantasy about you undressing me," he rasps, before letting his pants fall to the floor in a hush. "One of many," he adds, after stepping out of them. "And as much as I love how this dress compliments your body, it's time for it to go."
He finds the zipper at the back of her neck and lowers it. Olivia helps by pulling the dress away from her shoulders, out of the sleeves, and pushing it to her waist. Elliot wastes no time latching on to her neck, kissing and nipping. Before he starts fumbling about how to get it off, she pushes it over her hips, lets it fall to the floor and steps out of it. He plants both hands on her waist, turns her towards the bed, and gives her a gentle push until she's sitting. Slowly, he unzips her boots as Olivia watches, setting them aside before kissing his way from her ankles to her inner thighs.
"This color on you is…perfect," he rasps against her skin. "The whole set is sexy as hell, Liv."
This time she doesn't blush. She rests on the spruce green duvet, confidently leaning back on her elbows, making the curve of her breasts his central focus.
"Fuck."
"All this time I thought you were an ass man," she says, grinning. "Guess I was wrong."
"I'm an 'Olivia' man," Elliot corrects. "I've been attracted to and enamored with every part of you for years, especially what I can't see," he adds, planting a lingering peck over her heart. "That's not gonna change just because you're in my bed."
She knows he's just said those three little words without actually saying them. But it's too soon to give in to those feelings.
"Good to know," she tells him. "Because you're making it kind of hard to say no to a second date."
Elliot places gentle sucks on her neck, moving over each breast and down to the soft skin of her abdomen. But he pauses once he sees the evidence of her first traumatic encounter with the beast known as William Lewis. Thanks to a great dermatologist and some expensive prescription-grade scar and burn creams, they've deeply faded. His focus has shifted to them, though, in reverence, awe, then guilt.
Of course, Olivia notices.
"Don't think about it," she whispers, resting her palm against his face. "He doesn't deserve to be here with us."
"Fuck him."
"No," she urges, lifting his chin until he's focusing on her eyes. "Fuck me," she says in a sultry tone with a wink.
Elliot's eyes deepen to a shade of blue, equating to a chaotic night sea.
"Can I have my way with you first?"
"Yes," she answers. "Just don't take too long. A girl can only take so much."
With the green light, he places warm open-mouthed kisses all over her stomach before sliding his fingers beneath the satin and lace of her La Perla, pulling them down her golden thighs.
"Time for my dessert."
Thank God for cardio, yoga, meditation, and a sensible diet. Because if not for all those things, her heart wouldn't be able to handle the slow sucking sensation of his mouth on her clit or the patience he has to wait until she's wet enough before introducing one of his thick fingers to provide friction to her inner walls.
"Elliot," she breathes. "I need more."
Her former partner is nothing if not responsive. He introduces a second digit and quickens the pace until she's palming the back of his head, riding his mouth and the fingers of his right hand. With his left, he palms her breast, kneading and thumbing her pert nipple, while she does the same to the other side, happy that she's taken the initiative to get rid of her bra. Moments later her back arches off the bed with a shout and she reflexively pushes Elliot away so he can stop stimulating the sensitized bud of nerves.
"I don't wanna know why you're so fucking good at that," she manages after coming back to herself. "But I love that you are."
He laughs as he ditches his boxer briefs, climbs over her body, settles between her legs, and meets her lips for a deep peck.
"I told you, Liv," he says between kisses. "You taste too good not to savor."
"You can stop trying, El. You earned a second date."
They laugh as she pulls him down to deepen the kiss, using it as a distraction to flip them and straddle Elliot.
"This a position you prefer?" He asks, sitting up.
"One of them," she answers with a smirk. "There are times I want the type of control it offers," she explains. "But when the air shifts or the mood changes, I just wanna be…taken," she adds. "As for now, you asked if there was something I've always wanted to do that'd make me happy. Riding you in this bed is on the list."
"List?" He asks. "Guess this isn't gonna be a one-time thing, then?"
"Better not be."
Olivia rises to her knees and takes his shaft in her hand.
"Wait," Elliot says stopping her. "Check the nightstand drawer."
She raises her eyebrows but complies. The first thing she touches is a pink travel-sized bottle of KY warming jelly.
"Presumptuous much?"
"Nope," he answers, smiling up at her. "I wanted tonight to be—
"—Special," she finishes. "It's been that and more," she asserts, squeezing some of the gel into her palm. "But if I get a UTI from this shit, I'm sending you the bill, Stabler."
He's laughing until she begins purposefully rubbing his shaft with the KY, visibly hardening him even further to her delight.
"Good?" Olivia asks.
"Hell yes," he manages.
She uses two fingers to push some inside herself before slowly inching her way down until he slides home for the first time. They both moan deeply at the enhanced warm sensation.
"I can't believe—," she starts.
"—We're finally doing this," Elliot finishes.
His hands drop to her thighs as she gives into the desire to roll her hips against his.
"Fuck," he manages.
"Need a minute?" Olivia asks.
"No," he answers, tightening his grasp. "Keep going."
"Good," she says, continuing the sleepy pace. "Because you feel too perfect inside me to stop."
Elliot groans at her words but resists the urge to flip them and fuck her senseless. She puts her arms around his shoulders, plundering his mouth as she moves. His taste is addictive and she loves the way he kisses, the push and pull. Not trying to dominate but taking turns being the aggressor.
Minutes later, Olivia grinds down and rolls her hips as he angles his upward, using his strength to pull her over him, again and again increasing the pace. When they separate to breathe, he licks, sucks, and manipulates every measure of skin he can reach.
Her lips, her neck, and her breasts are all fair game when she leans away so that he's more purposeful in hitting her g-spot. Elliot takes his thumb and starts rubbing firm quick circles against her clit.
"Fuck!" She screams.
"Come for me, Liv," he says. "You know you want to."
The skin of Elliot's scalp is beaded with sweat. The perspiration from Olivia's hairline has turned her waves into curls from her efforts. Despite her thighs being on fire and her lower back beginning to ache, she doesn't want it to end. But with deep rasp in her ear and his hands and mouth pushing her towards the edge, the captain's body rebels against her, giving in to every glorious sensation he's exposing her to.
She cums with a gasp, inner walls spasming as quickly as her heartbeat. Elliot takes the opportunity to flip their positions, putting her thighs over his and smoothing his hands up her forearms to intertwine their fingers. With his movement no longer restricted, he undulates his hips, grinding purposefully against her clit. He nips and sucks at her neck then her breasts, treating her nipples to small grazes of his teeth and the texture of his tongue.
Elliot rips an unexpected third orgasm from her just as his hits. He explodes with a grunt just below the skin of her ear and she's in awe of falling over the precipice with him.
"I think…both positions…work for us," he whispers against the skin of her neck, garnering a laugh.
"Me too," she agrees. "And the warming jelly was one of your better ideas."
She kisses him sweetly as he separates them and excuses herself to go to his en suite. In front of his mirror, Olivia sees herself and can't recall the last time she looked so happy, fulfilled, and satiated.
There's no way she's leaving tonight.
END A/N: I hope you read the first note.