A/N: I'm a woman of my word. I shall leave no fic unfinished, lol. That being said, here's the conclusion.

"One kiss Olivia," he urges. "Let's see how easy it would've been for you to stop," he adds, caressing the apple of her cheek.

In her mind, Olivia thinks she'll give him a kiss just to make a point that it's possible not to go further and to shut him the hell up. So, she swallows hard, slowly leaning down. Elliot's eyes get impossibly darker, lips slightly parting in preparation. Olivia can feel his breath on her skin.

A consistent heartbeat is loud in her ears. There are no ringing phones, no co-workers and no incoming victims that will interrupt. The scent of him carried on an ocean breeze finally draws her to his lips. If she's going to do this once, it's going to be thorough.

Olivia darts out her tongue and traces his bottom lip. Elliot gasps. She pulls his top lip into her mouth, nibbles on it. Incrementally she retreats, then covers his mouth with the softness of her own. His hand slides down from her cheek, around to thread his fingers through her hair, then gently tugs her closer. When Olivia introduces her tongue to taste him, she can feel Elliot's deep growl. His other hand, previously resting low on her waist, finds its way beneath her tank to the supple skin of her back.

Elliot's touch results in her gasp and she knows it's time to pull away.

"See, I stopped," she says, standing and dusting sand from her clothes. "And neither of us is ruined, the world didn't end and the sky didn't fall."

But then, it does. They hadn't noticed the heavy clouds of the night sky, the smell of rain in the air or the quickening breeze. A torrential downpour though? Not to be ignored.

"Shit," they say in unison.

Olivia rushes out of the sand, across the patio and into the house with Elliot close behind. With the heaviness of the rain and the strength of the wind, they're nearly drenched covering the short distance and into the kitchen.

Elliot follows her lead in taking his socks and shoes off at the door. She disappears into the laundry room and returns with two towels, tossing one to him.

"Didn't expect that," she offers, patting at her face.

He furrows his brow then smirks.

"The rain, I mean," she clarifies. "I don't remember seeing anything in the forecast about a storm."

They lean on opposite counters as she blots at her hair in an attempt to distract herself from his gaze. Elliot's been mostly silent since the kiss. His own towel is discarded on the island after drying his face.

His heated focus now trails from her flame-colored toe nails to the tanned skin of her legs to the nearly see-through tank, landing on her lips before finally meeting her eyes.

"What?"

"You kissed me."

"To prove a point," she says with a roll of her eyes.

"Uh huh."

Elliot advances and she backs up. He moves again and she sidesteps him, feeling him at her back as she heads into the living room.

"What are you doing?" She asks, turning to face him.

"I have my own point to prove."

"Which is?"

"You're scared of me touching you," he answers, resting his hands on her waist. "And you know why."

"Don't be ridiculous," Olivia says, stepping out of his hold. "I'm going up to change."

She makes it to the stairs before he's on her again. His warm hand on her bare shoulder stops all forward movement. The grasp Olivia's left hand has on the banister, tightens as he moves closer. She can feel Elliot's breath against the hair of her neck before he displaces the locs of her lengthening mane to plant an open-mouthed kiss to the skin he finds.

"El," she breathes.

Olivia tries to tamp down the wild beating of her heart, somehow cool the fire that is spreading from where his lips are. But as Elliot raises the hem of her tank and begins using his thumb to rub slow circles to the right of her spine, her failure is immediate.

Eyes as dark as mahogany find him as she turns. Elliot leans in but she climbs one step and away from his attempt. The dance repeats as they cautiously ascend the staircase. She leads, he follows.

The storm rages on outside, rain hitting the roof like a million tiny drummers having their own concert.

Once on level ground, Olivia continues to grasp the railing with her former partner, one step below. He covers her hand as it grasps the wood, peels it off, then raises her palm to his lips and plants another open-mouthed kiss there.

The move does nothing to slow her already erratic heartbeat.

Elliot takes the same hand, raises his shirt and rests her palm against his abdomen. Seemingly of its own accord, the other hand joins it. Seconds later Olivia's moving them up to his chest, spreading out and making the descent again to repeat the process.

When she feels his heart beating as rapidly as hers, she knows he's in the same boat.

"God, Liv."

"I know."

Olivia begins backing up and Elliot follows, down the hall and into the bedroom she's claimed, hands never leaving his body. Once the back of her legs meets the bed, she helps him raise his shirt before tossing it aside.

He kneels before her on the carpeted floor, lifts the dampened tank and begins kissing the soft skin of her stomach. Olivia takes it off and throws it, landing it next to his. He looks up and meets her eyes, both seeing what they've long since denied.

"You were right," she rasps. "I don't wanna stop."

Elliot stands then, picks her up and crawls up the bed to position her. They're roles are reversed from what seems like hours ago but in reality, has only been ten minutes. He lowers himself, brushing his lips against hers until Olivia reaches up to grasp his nape and not so gently pulls down and breaches his mouth with her tongue.

She barely allows him breath as she kisses the hell out of him.

"Christ," he says, finally taking in oxygen.

"Sorry," Olivia tells him, not the least bit sincere. "But I've wanted to do that for—

"—Hey. I'm not complaining," Elliot interrupts. "But the way you kiss should be illegal," he adds, garnering a laugh from her. "No wonder you have so many saps falling all over you."

She looks up at him, with the widest grin he's ever seen, brings her lower lip into her mouth and grazes on it while holding his eyes.

"Elliot," she begins, caressing his clavicle with her thumb, "You have no idea."

"Whoa," he says as she pushes him to lay on his back.

Olivia straddles his hips, sits up, unstraps her bra and it meets the same fate as his t-shirt and her tank.

"God, Liv," he starts. "You're breathtaking. Better than any fantasy I've had."

"Well," she says. "You've been staring at them for years," she continues. "You're not gonna touch?"

He smooths his hands up to palm her ample breasts and all the joviality leaves her expression in exchange for one of arousal. She moans when he circles his thumb around her left nipple. And when he sits up to tug the right one into his mouth with his teeth, all manner of speech abandons her save for one word.

"Fuck."

Elliot kisses it, leisurely runs his tongue over it, blows on it then wets his lips and suckles it into his mouth as he pinches the other. Not every woman can orgasm simply from nipple play. Olivia was not one of them.

Until now.

He looks at her with a cocky smirk.

"So…that was a pleasant surprise."

"Shut up," she says, smiling.

"Aren't you curious though?"

"About what?" She asks, brow furrowed.

"What else I can do with my mouth," Elliot answers as he flips them again, causing her to yelp.

She thinks she died. Or, maybe she got shot at some point and is in a coma. Perhaps her SUV crashed on the way to her friend's beach house and she never made it. Because there's no way Detective First Grade, Elliot Joseph Stabler of Queens, New York is sliding her jean shorts down her legs and tossing them aside.

It is a complete fabrication of her obviously brain damaged mind that he's smoothing his rough palms up her thighs and pulling her dampened panties (not from the rain) down and away from her body. And as Olivia finds both calves resting on the backs of his shoulders, she knows without a doubt that if in fact she's not already six feet under, this is absolutely the way she's going to die.

Elliot takes the index and middle fingers of his right hand, parts her and gives her clit the same treatment he gave her nipple. He puckers his lips against it, drags his tongue along the nerve endings, exhales against it then brings it into the warmth of his mouth.

"Yes," she manages.

He tests one finger inside and finding her sufficiently wet, he adds a second. He curls them slowly then picks up the pace at her direction.

"Fuuuck."

Once Elliot reaches up massages her breast and tugs at her nipple, she comes apart like a puzzle hitting the floor, shattered.

A minute later, she attempts speech in between trying to catch her breath.

"That was…I don't…you should."

He takes the hint and nods, grinning as he unbuttons his cargo shorts and ditches them along with his blue boxer briefs.

Olivia feels him firm and heavy as he rubs himself against her sensitive folds.

"I didn't bring any condoms, Liv," he says. "I didn't expect to—"

"—It's okay," she tells him. "IUD. And…I trust you to tell me if I'm wrong but I feel like it's been a while for you."

"You trying to say I'm rusty, Benson?"

"Quite the contrary," she says with a grin. "But you're enthusiastic and eager to please," she explains. "That translates into a dry spell."

He laughs as he drops his mouth to her neck, bites it and sooths it with his tongue.

"It's been almost a year since she and I had sex," Elliot admits, not wanting to bring his ex-wife's name into bed with them. "I've known it was over for a long time."

Olivia rolls her hips against his length as she palms his ass.

"Then we're good," she offers.

"How do you wanna do this?"

"Soon," she quips. "It's been a bit of a dry spell for me too."

Elliot reaches down and playfully slaps her ass cheek.

"I mean, what position works the best for you?"

She's confident he could get her there in any position he chooses but her plan is to stroke everything he has except for his ego.

"I'll let you know if the one we're in doesn't work," she answers. "Was there this much talking in these fantasies of yours?"

Elliot shakes his head at her sarcasm as he devours her mouth again. He swallows a gasp as he inches through her heat. Once he's buried deeply inside her, he leans away, resting his forehead against hers. The way they're connected from head to toe, it quickly becomes too much. Overwhelming for her.

"Move," Olivia urges.

He pulls back and thrusts fully inside her, stealing her breath. Elliot's movements are as leisurely as a Sunday morning stroll through Central Park. In between kissing her deeply, he covers her body in love bites, caresses her skin and whispers both the sweetest and dirtiest shit she's ever heard in her life.

Olivia loves it.

Sitting up and onto her knees changes their position and pulls Elliot deeper. The pace increases from there. She puts both arms around his shoulders, rolling her hips and delving into his mouth again and again.

"Fuck, Liv," he breathes. "I'm gonna come."

"That's the point," she whispers into his ear before biting the lobe and pushing him to lay back.

He grasps her thighs as she feverishly moves back and forth along his length. Feeling his own impeding orgasm, he reaches down to rub his thumb against her clit. Two minutes later she's throwing her head back with an open mouth, pulsing around him and prompting him to grunt out his own release.

With legs feeling like Jell-O, she ungracefully flops down beside him, joining him in trying to catch her breath.

"I guess…missionary wasn't…working for you," Elliot manages.

"Wasn't that," she rasps. "I enjoyed it. But…you were going for…weekend away love making," she explains. "And I was going for…fucking in the backseat…of our squad car."

His deep, rich laugh reverberates off the walls and she can't help but join in. When Elliot finally catches his breath, he turns on his side, resting his head on his fist.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's had fantasies about us then?"

"Nope."

He playfully gasps.

"Do tell, Detective Benson," he urges, running his fingers along the skin of her abdomen. "I'm all ears."

"You first, Stabler," she says, unashamedly folding both arms behind her head as they remain uncovered.

"Nothing is ever easy with you," Elliot comments.

Olivia grabs one of his caressing fingers and pulls it into the warmth of her mouth, sucking it before dropping his hand to her nipple.

"But worth it," she tells him with a smirk.

"Fine," he says, taking the hint and beginning a soft, slow stroking of the apricot hued bud. "Of course, the back of the cruiser was one, and the cribs, interrogation and Cragen's office are obvious choices," he continues as her breath hitches. "But I've always wanted you to ride me in that armchair in your living room."

Olivia grins and shakes her head as she pulls away and gets up.

"We're gonna have to work on your creativity," she says, swaying towards the bathroom, immediately drawing his eyes to her curvaceous ass.

"You coming back?"

She stops and leans against the door frame.

"Why don't you give me a few minutes and then come in here," she suggests. "I know shower sex isn't exactly original but…it's on my list."

"There's a list?"

She winks before closing the door behind herself.

Three months later…

Olivia walks into a revamped and remodeled squad room to find her former partner having a minor disagreement with a younger, dark-haired, Latin version of himself.

"Amaro, aside from having the same rapist, the two of them have never met before," Elliot urges. "My gut says they have to have something in common. The same gym, a dating app, a fucking dog groomer or—

"—I may be new here but I'm not dumb, Stabler," Amaro tells him. "Your gut isn't evidence, okay," he asserts. "And last I checked, not only do we need it for a warrant but we need it to get a conviction."

A short blonde stands from the desk she shares with Fin to approach the two.

"Boys, boys, ya'll are both pretty," she quips, causing Olivia to smile immediately. "And also…wrong," she adds. "The lab called. Marcus Corbin's semen was planted on both victims," she explains. "They said it was non-motile and likely frozen before being…introduced, after the sexual assaults."

Olivia believes it to be the perfect time to interrupt. She walks into the bullpen, black trench covering her badge and weapon. The blonde is the first to approach.

"Can I help you?" She asks.

"No thanks. The captain in?"

"Liv," Elliot calls, suppressing his smile but not the light in his eyes that appears in her presence. "What brings you by?"

"Cragen's request," she tells him.

"And here I thought it was because you missed me."

"Nope," she says simply. "Maybe Fin though."

Fin waves as he continues his phone call.

"Ouch," Elliot tells her, clutching his chest.

"But it's good to see Munch's coffee hasn't killed you yet," Olivia jokes. "Speaking of…"

"He's out with a stomach bug," he explains. "But he'll be back in a couple of days."

Amaro and the blonde look perplexed.

"I'm being rude," Elliot says to the two newbies. "Nick Amaro, Amanda Rollins, this is my former partner Detective Olivia Benson," he informs them. "She abandoned me and jumped to homicide about three months ago."

She grins as she shakes their hands.

"Nice to meet you both," Olivia tells them. "This one trained me so he's a good egg and one of the best detectives I know," she adds. "But God help you when he's right about something. The ego on this guy…"

Amaro and Rollins notice how the two never take their eyes off each other as if everyone else in the room is invisible.

"Well," she says, gesturing to Cragen's office. "I'd better…"

Elliot nods and tries not to watch her walk away but they notice.

"That…was your partner?" Amanda asks. "For how long?"

"Thirteen years," he answers, returning to his desk. "It was rough seeing her pack up and walk out."

"I'm sure," Amaro says. "She seems like kind of a badass."

"I learned just as much from her as she did from me," Elliot admits. "She's intelligent, empathetic, professional, one of the best and yeah…also definitely a badass," he smirks and goes back to his paperwork.

"Wow," comments Amanda. "Why'd she leave?"

Elliot stops writing, takes a deep breath.

"There's a reason most cops max out of this unit at two years," he begins. "Case by case, victim by victim, the shit we see can wear you down," he goes on. "Victims had her personal number because she wanted them to. Propped them up before testifying. Gave them comfort, dried their tears," he continues. "She was phenomenal at her job. Offered so much…too much of herself really. But sooner or later…everyone reaches their breaking point."

Amanda and Nick look at Cragen's office when the door opens, halfway expecting a cape to be blowing behind Olivia in the windless room.

"Everything okay?" Elliot asks once she's in earshot.

"Yeah, fine," she answers. "He wants to borrow me for a few nights for an undercover," she explains. "Wanted to make sure I was okay with it before making the formal request."

"And are you?"

"I'm good, El," she assures him before turning to the younger detectives. "Amaro, Rollins, it was a pleasure and I look forward to working with you."

Olivia turns to leave then…

"I'll walk you out," Elliot offers. "Be back in a few minutes."

Once he's joined her at the elevator, Nick and Amanda smile knowingly at one another.

"Oh, he's got it bad," Amanda says, heading to her desk.

"Can you blame him?" Amaro asks, taking the seat across from Elliot's.

At the elevator…

"You know this visit could have been a phone call," Elliot tells her, stuffing his hands in his slacks to prevent himself from reaching out.

"True," she says. "But I wanted to see the guys."

"Just the guys, huh?" He asks, venturing a little closer.

"Nope," she answers, giving him a small grin.

"So, which one is your partner?" She asks. "The pretty one or the prettier one."

"I already have a partner," Elliot tells her. "But Amaro has been assigned to me."

The elevator dings its arrival and Olivia unnecessarily straightens his tie as an excuse to touch him before climbing aboard. The car is empty so he holds the door open.

"We still on for sushi tonight?" she asks.

Elliot's face turns sour.

"Do I really have to try raw fish?"

"I'll get you the fried version and drizzle yum yum sauce on it," she informs him. "You'll love it."

"Only completely cooked food belongs on my plate."

A devilish smile spreads across Olivia's face.

"Who says you're eating it off a plate?"

Elliot laughs and shakes his head.

"God, I love that list of yours," he says, moving his hand away from the doors.

And just before they close, she mouths, 'I love you' and backs inside before he can respond. His eyes grow large once he realizes what just happened and he rushes down two flights of stairs to meet her in the Homicide Unit.

Elliot makes it to the floor just before she's about to go in. Olivia's not surprised to see him out of breath and stepping into her path.

"Something you need, Detective Stabler?"

He takes her by the hand, drags her into the stairwell he just burst out of, pushes her up to the wall and kisses her breathless.

Elliot smiles against her lips as he pulls back.

"I love you too, Olivia."

She gives him another quick smooch before pushing him off of her.

"Now get back to work before I have to add, 'creepy ass stairwell' to my list," she chides. "See you tonight.

The End.

E/N: Having fulfilled my obligations to finish all fics, I don't know if I'll ever be writing any more of them. I'm appreciative of all who not only read but take the time to review my writing. It's much appreciated because with more and more traffic swinging to AO3, I know how rare that is. If you liked this one, feel free to enjoy all my other stories. God bless and happy reading.