5Olivia can't have a heart attack right now. She just…can't. Though she's certain Amanda and Sonny would make great adoptive parents should she parish, eventually, they'd have to explain to him the circumstances of her demise.
And that can't happen.
Elliot's sweat-soaked chest is glued to her back while she's on her right flank (where the unbroken ribs are) deep inside, manipulating her left breast while he rhythmically undulates his hips. His other hand is threaded through her dampened hair and his mouth is constantly moving over her face, her neck, and her back.
There's no doubt an untold number of hickies and love bites that traverse her body at this point. The way he's filling her is complete and she passed a level of arousal she's never had a good ten minutes ago. Thus, the impending myocardial infarction. It's too much fucking pleasure.
So, if she doesn't orgasm soon. There will be a funeral.
"Please," she begs. "I need to…cum, El."
"Oh, you will, baby. You will."
His hand slides from her breast to her center and Olivia widens her left thigh, even more, to open herself for his fingers. She uses her own hand to manipulate her nipples and he increases the friction on her clit with his middle digits. The girth and length of him punishes her g-spot and two minutes later, her vision is blurring and she damn near loses consciousness after she screams his name and he grunts out his release.
A short time later after they've caught their breaths, Olivia gingerly climbs from the bed and heads for her en-suite.
"We need to talk."
He smirks as he watches her naked form.
"Seriously this time," she urges from the doorway, wiping the smile from his face. "Promise me."
"I promise."
She adds the caveat because they've been trying to "talk" for two hours now. He came to her apartment after their paths finally crossed when a BX9 case got the attention of the OCCB. He wasn't happy to find out that she'd been assaulted in front of Noah, nor that she had to send him away because she had a price on her head.
Seeing the bruise beneath her eye after he knocked hadn't made things better.
"Shit, Liv," he said. "Why didn't you tell me?"
The laundry list of things he didn't know instantly populated in her brain and she all but laughed in his face before walking away from the door.
"It's being handled," she told him, moving into the kitchen. "Beer?"
He tossed his jacket on the armchair before beginning to pace.
"One of the most notorious gangs in the city put a contract on your head and you're offering me a drink?"
Olivia poured herself a glass of pinot noir and grabbed a Heineken Light from the fridge before joining him in the living room. She put it in his hand before gingerly sitting in the corner of the sofa with her wine.
"Fractured ribs?" He asked, noticing her expression before joining her in sitting.
"No," she said, "Severely bruised though," she added. "Why are you here?"
"Because when Bell showed me your initial crime scene photos and how bad the beating really was," he began. "I uh…I didn't take it well."
"There's a shock."
"It's not funny."
"Could've been worse," she pointed out. "And actually…it has been."
"What?"
She hadn't meant to let that part slip. But he's been back for nearly two years and it's bordering on comical that he doesn't seem to know about William Lewis.
"Never mind," she said, taking a healthy sip of her pinot. "It doesn't matter."
"Of course, it matters," he told her. "You matter to me, Liv."
She managed not to scoff but a small eye roll wasn't beneath her.
"It's in the past, Elliot," she said. "I've dealt with it and the last thing I wanna do is bring it up right now," she added. "I have enough going on."
"Are we ever gonna talk about…anything?"
"Maybe it's better we don't."
"You said you were tired of this being a one-way street," he reminded her. "I came here tonight because I wanna change that," he added. "You were physically assaulted and you had to send your son away," he went on. "I may not be able to fix it but I wanna help any way I can."
Now he wants to help?
He was AWOL for a decade. She lost Garland and Tamin in the same year. Last Christmas had her taking a headshot. A decent night's sleep has been elusive since his return which is obviously no fucking coincidence. Noah has found his long-lost half-brother which suddenly makes her the obsolete version of family. And, Amanda is leaving the unit.
Even through all that, she's been the one supporting him.
"There's nothing you can do."
"Because you won't let me," he urged. "Do you let anyone?" He asked. "Or is everything still always just fine with you?"
She drained the remaining wine from her glass and reenters the kitchen for a top-off.
"Well, my shrink gets paid pretty well," she jabbed back. "And Fin's been solid," she continued, putting weight on her sergeant's name. "So, the best way to help me is to track down a lead or work this case from whatever angle you and Ayanna see fit so I can…bring Noah home."
Her voice broke mentioning her son prompting Elliot to follow her into the kitchen.
"Liv," he said, speaking softly as he approached her. "He'll be back before you know it."
Olivia put the glass down, and turned to face him with her hands resting beside her on the counter.
"Hope you're right."
It's quiet between them for a few moments.
"I always hated when you got hurt," he confessed, stepping closer with his focus on the bruise below her eye.
"You were my partner," she attempted, trying to dismiss the growing sentimentality of his tone.
"That was one reason."
"Because I was a woman on the job and you were an overprotective asshole?"
When he raised his hand to caress the skin below the bruise, her breath quickened. They didn't touch like that.
Ever.
It was too intimate.
But things are so monumentally different now.
"Because I was falling in love with you," he confessed. "And despite all the shit I've said and done that proves otherwise…that hasn't changed, Olivia."
She didn't have the same dumbfounded look on her face as the first time she'd heard it. It wasn't his grief or PTSD talking. They weren't standing in a room full of his brood. His words were solely for her.
"Why are you telling me – why now?"
"Every time I saw your heart break over a case," he began, stepping closer. "Every time we lost a vic you related to," he continued. "For every time I knew you were hurt," he concluded. "I wanted to be the one to offer you comfort…and I couldn't," he said. "But now I can."
When his other hand lifted to her uninjured cheek, Elliot finally closed the distance between them and tenderly covered her lips with his own. It was tentative at first. Just a press of his mouth to make sure he wasn't overstepping.
Olivia surprised him when she placed her arms around his waist and pulled him closer. He was more confident with the next kiss, using his tongue along the seam of her closed mouth to encourage her to open up for him.
Five minutes later he'd lifted her onto the counter and rid her of the dark jeans she wore as well as the light blue cotton panties beneath. Apparently, Elliot's comfort included a mind-numbing orgasm from his tongue and fingers. She still had on the black cable knit sweater when she returned to herself.
"Your ribs," he began, after helping her from the counter. "Was that…position…okay?"
As ridiculous as it was, he was gentlemanly enough to turn his back as she redressed behind him.
"I'm yeah…it was…I'm good," she managed, trying not to blush.
Olivia was more than good. A stubbled Elliot Stabler, dressed in all black like Johnny fucking Cash, went down on her on the most random of Thursday nights in her kitchen after professing his undying love.
"I'll be back," she told him, moving to her bedroom to change.
As she stepped into a pair of mauve sweats after donning a gray t-shirt, Olivia heard his cell ring. Elliot appeared at the entrance to her bedroom shortly after.
"You have to go?"
"No," he answered. "That was Bell," he informed her. "She said a few more arrests have been made and they're a step closer to finding out the source of the hit."
"That's…that's great," she said with a grin.
"She told me to just stay put…take care of my partner."
Olivia's eyes dropped momentarily to his crotch before meeting his eyes again. Of course, he saw.
And he was still semi-erect.
"We should talk," she told him.
"We should," he agreed, stepping further into the room.
"Probably should've before…the kitchen," she gestured towards the hallway. "I think we got a little ahead of ourselves."
Head. Great.
Flustered didn't cover it. Surely there should be more time between an Elliot-given orgasm and the expectation of coherent, logical, conversation.
"Did you mean—
"—Yes," he answered without hesitation. "You couldn't tell."
The smirk he gave her didn't help her thought processes. Neither did him closing the distance to kiss her so passionately again.
"We can talk about whatever you want," he said after allowing them oxygen. "But I'm gonna need a few minutes," he added as they both eyed his obvious problem.
When he went to pull away from her, it was Olivia who initiated what happened next. She reached for the button of those sinful black jeans and from there it was a slow revelation of body parts as they undressed one another.
Elliot caressed and kissed every square inch of skin. When he came across a bruise, he was tender and when he found her scars, he was damn near reverent. Olivia didn't have to explain their source. They'd get to that…after.
The rough pads of his fingers pebbled her nipples to full arousal and the sucking and licking of his tongue against the peach-hued buds gave her an unexpected second orgasm. After she came down again, he asked what would be most comfortable for her.
Olivia rolled to her side and he'd done a more than unnecessary check to make sure she was ready for him. Because between the oral sex on her counter and the manipulation of her oversensitive breasts, her trusty bottle of Astroglide could stay in her bottom drawer.
Both held their breaths once he finally inched through her folds to bury himself inside her depths. How could they not? More than twenty years of lust turned to want, turned to love and the nearly sixty-year-olds were conclusively joined together.
"Elliot…move."
And so, he did. He began undulating his hips with deep, slow, penetrating strokes as he intertwined their hands. Thank God they were strong enough to resist the temptation for so long because after having him like that, there's no way it could be a one-time thing.
"Liv, fuck," he managed.
"God…you feel…so good."
Olivia thinks she was truly in denial because she thought there's no way in hell after the many missteps they've had, the bad timing, the crossed signals, that they should still be so damn amazing together.
She moved her hand behind Elliot, to palm his ass and encourage him to go faster and he smiled as he increased the pace.
"Bossy even from this angle."
"Just…don't stop," she told him.
And he hadn't until she'd pleaded with him to make her cum. She'll have no manner of luck putting that particular Jinn back in the bottle, suppressing how she feels or avoiding him even if she wants to in the future. There's no way her body would cooperate with that kind of demand.
When Olivia exits the bathroom, she rummages through her drawers until she finds Elliot a large enough t-shirt and some old sweats.
"Your turn," she tells him after tossing him the clothes. "I'm gonna order some takeout while you shower," she adds. "Any preference?"
He takes it for what it is, an invitation to stay the night.
"Lady's choice," he offers.
Ten minutes later he's approaching her as she sits on the sofa. This time, they remain on opposite ends, facing one another.
"So," he says. "Where do we start?"
"Jenna?"
"Not much to say," he tells her. "They wanted me to jump through hoops for a job I couldn't stand to do anymore," he adds. "Retiring instead of weighing my options in other units is where I fucked up," he continues. "Not telling you about any of it, is where I made things worse."
Olivia nods her agreement.
"My turn?" She asks.
"Yeah," he answers. "Noah?"
"Adopted," she tells him, garnering a relieved smile. "I found him in a drawer on a case," she goes on. "Not abused in any way but neglected," she explains. "He was moved to four different foster homes before the family court judge decided to give me a shot."
"Wow…Liv…that's…wow."
"I know," she says, matching his grin. "We saved each other's lives," she adds. "I'd uh, had a moment where I thought I was pregnant around that time and…I wasn't."
"I'm sorry."
"For the best," Olivia asserts. "The father…didn't wanna be one," she adds. "I figured that was my last chance to have one the natural way so when Noah came along…"
"He was a gift."
"Still is."
"Was it Ed, that didn't want—
"—No," she interrupts. "That began when Noah was about three."
Elliot notices how fidgety she's gotten and decides to let her off the hook.
"It's okay, Liv. I know it was Tucker."
"What? How?"
"Let's just say the longer I'm back, the more random people wanna…fill me in."
"Ah."
"My turn."
"I know how hard a goodbye would've been," she starts. "But why the continued…wall of silence?" She asks. "Especially knowing that you've been back multiple times since moving to Rome."
Sounds like she's been talking to Bernie or Kathleen. Now it's his turn to get fidgety.
"I didn't know how," he responds, honestly. "A call out of the blue, not knowing how your life was going…didn't seem right," he adds. "And dropping into the 1-6 unannounced seems like something that would've gotten me shot."
She contemplates that for a few seconds and thinks he's probably not wrong.
"Depends on the day," Olivia says with a shrug of her shoulders. "But you had to have known I wouldn't have shut you out."
"Maybe…but I deserved to be."
"Being a penitent Catholic and punishing yourself?"
"Something like that."
"Did it ever occur to you that you were punishing me too?" She asks, moving to stand. "And I…don't get what I'd done to deserve that."
"Nothing, Liv," he urges. "The fault was always with me. I was the married one," he says. "I wasn't gonna pop into your life, upheave whatever love, relationships, or stability you found in my absence, and then just go back to Rome…to Kathy."
Olivia turns to face the window as tears threaten.
"As much as I missed you, I couldn't be that selfish…not anymore."
"And you were happy?" She asks, watching the traffic below. "In Italy."
"Yeah," he offers. "We were companions," he continues. "There was always gonna be love there but…it wasn't…this," he admits. "Visceral, innate…thing that lets me know when you've walked into a room."
It's the same for her. So much that she's digging her nails into her palms to stop herself from turning and reaching for him again.
"My turn," Olivia says, bracing her hands on the sill.
She knows what's coming.
"The scars?"
Her back immediately straightens before she takes a deep breath and focuses on the people entering and exiting Central Park. As cold as it is, there are still joggers, speed walkers, and runners with strollers now that the walks have been shoveled. And, the ever-present vendors and horses and buggies.
"Two years after you left, we arrested a sexual sadist that fixated on me after an interrogation," she begins. "He had multiple aliases, intentionally burned off his fingerprints, and managed to elude every law enforcement agency he came across for more than a decade."
"How?"
"He was…incredibly manipulative and surprisingly clever," Olivia answers, finally turning to face him. "After his latest acquittal, he showed up in my apartment with a gun in my face."
"Jesus."
"He had a thing for…burning as torture," she tells him. "Heated keys, coat hanger and—
"—Cigarette burns," Elliot concludes as she simply nods.
Very faded but visible scars he ran his lips over while making love to her.
"He poured vodka down my throat and forced me to swallow God only knows what kind of pills for four days to gain my compliance," she explains, leaning against the sill. "Still can't stomach the smell of it."
Elliot scrubs his hands down his face and forces himself to ask the next question.
"Did he rape you, Olivia?"
What happened in the basement?
"No," she informs him. "The rape kit was negative for semen and he wouldn't have exactly been gentle," she goes on. "He was known for prolonged, physical attacks," she continues. "And he thought it'd be more fun for me to watch as he raped his lawyer's mother."
"Son of a bitch."
"And that's only half of it."
"What?" He asks, suddenly on his feet.
"With the help of an idiotic but sympathetic juror, he managed to escape after he was convicted," Olivia says. "I allowed him to abduct me the second time to save a twelve-year-old girl he'd kidnapped," she tells him. "He put a bullet in his brain after hearing my team close in on him."
"I wish you'd gotten the satisfaction of pulling the trigger yourself."
Olivia thinks back to the way she brutally beat him nearly to death in anger. And how if she'd just shot him then, neither Amelia nor anyone else would've been hurt or murdered by the son of bitch.
"I'm still learning to live with the guilt of not doing that the first time around," she confesses. "It's the one thing I regret."
"I hope you had the support you needed," he offers, approaching her with caution. "I just…I wish I could've been the one to offer it."
She gives him a tear-filled smile.
"Me too, El. Me too."
They reach for another after that. Not to kiss or push things further. Simply to hold each other for all the times they couldn't. All the times they needed to. All the times it felt right in their hearts but wrong in reality. And for all the times since he's returned that something else has gotten in the way.
"God, I missed you," Elliot rasps against her neck. "So fuckin' much, Liv."
"Me too," she says.
Two knocks interrupt their embrace and he releases her to answer the door, knowing she still has a hit out on her. He grabs his gun and interrogates the uniform with the color of the day, his badge number, and Fin's password before accepting two cheeseburgers, one strawberry, and one banana shake from Shake Shack.
"Comfort food?" He asks, smiling.
"Figured we'd need it," she answers, taking her banana shake and burger and planting herself at the breakfast bar.
"I don't know," he says, joining her on the adjacent stool. "I think we could've done a pretty good job of comforting each other."
Olivia nearly chokes at his cheesy flirting.
"Sorry," he says, watching as she sips on her shake to recover.
"It's okay," she tells him with a wave of her hand. "Just…wasn't expecting that."
"I'm full of surprises," Elliot says grinning before biting into his cheeseburger.
The understatement of all understatements. Despite all the heavy talk, she can hardly look at him without blushing. They've talked about their separation and the worse thing that's ever happened to her.
Surely, they can discuss the ridiculously good sex that preceded it?
"Was…what we did…was that part of the reason you didn't wanna say goodbye?" Olivia asks.
Elliot takes a sip of his strawberry shake and then turns to her, a serious expression painting his face.
"Absolutely."
"Did you know it would be so—
Powerful, animalistic, passionate?
"—Consuming?"
That works too.
"I…suspected," he responds. "Knowing how raw I still was after Jenna, that I'd made the decision to leave, that we…weren't gonna be partners anymore," he adds, his eyes darkening. "I was gentle with you tonight but twelve years ago…I couldn't have held back."
Did he hold back tonight? Shit. She definitely has to make sure her affairs or in order, start taking Pilates classes, and take her estrogen supplements more regularly. Because if tonight was any indication of what this man plans on doing to her after she's fully healed, she won't make it.
"Why are you so sure I would've let you?"
"Because it was the end of us," he answers and Olivia's breath hitches. "And I wouldn't have kept that from you," he adds. "A face-to-face goodbye would've—
"—Ruined me," she concludes. "I would've hated myself for finally becoming a cliché and fucking my married partner and I would've hated you for letting me become somebody who would."
"No," he rejects. "You would've hated me for not letting you try and save my marriage afterward," he surprises her with. "Because make no mistake, it would've been over the second you let me touch you."
Elliot eyes her with a sincerity she's never seen in him before. There's no use in trying to deny what he's plainly telling her. She picks up her burger and resumes eating and after a few seconds, he does the same.
They finish their meals in silence except for an occasional slurp from their milkshakes.
"Where do we go from here, Liv?"
"You mean now that we've borne our souls to each other and had the kind of sex two people who hadn't seen each other in over a decade shouldn't have been capable of?"
"Capable?" He asks, smirking.
"I don't mean physically, Elliot," she says, rolling her eyes. "I mean that—we—we've never had sex before it shouldn't have felt that…
"Natural? Intense? Fucking amazing?"
"Yes?"
"I did mention I'm in love with you right?" He asks. "What's your excuse?"
The term 'shit-eating grin' comes to mind with the expression he currently wears until hers turns serious.
"It's okay, Liv," he continues, completely facing her. "You can tell me how you feel whenever you're ready," he goes on. "For now…I just need to know if you see any possibilities for us to make this work?"
Olivia doesn't answer right away and she knows it puts him on edge. The possibility of them has been terrifying because of their history and all the ways it could implode. She's obviously in love with the idiot but between their schedules, her need for time with Noah, and their spotty communication, it could all go so wrong, so fast.
"Stop," Elliot says, pulling her out of her cycling down the rabbit hole. "I can see your wheels turning," he adds, threading a hand through her hair. "You got us breaking up before we're even together and I'm begging you not to do that."
"I'm still hurt, El," she tells him. "Still angry about how you left but yeah…I have…feelings for you I can't ignore," she admits, resting her hands on his thighs. "And one of those is fear."
"I understand and I'm not asking you to ignore your feelings or forget what I've done," he starts. "I'm just asking you to give us a chance," he urges. "To not waste any more time not having each other…not having this."
He palms both her cheeks and leans in to kiss her, slowly and passionately.
"Please," he whispers against her lips. "Please, Liv."
Elliot picks her up as if she's a bag of flour and transfers her from her stool to his, putting her legs around his waist. On sheer instinct, she wraps her arms around his neck.
"I just…"
He drops his lips to her neck, planting warm open-mouthed kisses everywhere he can manage to reach with her clothes still on.
"We should…"
Elliot smooths his hands beneath her shirt and onto the bare skin of her back as he devours her mouth again.
"Okay," she acquiesces, breathing against his lips. "But we go at my pace," Olivia offers as he picks her up. "And I let you into Noah's life when I'm sure," she continues as he moves towards her bedroom. "When I'm ready."
He stops in the hallway to make sure he has her full attention.
"Standing right here, Captain," he says, instantly giving her a flashback to when he first returned. "And I'm not going anywhere."