46A/N: Thanks for reading good people. This is the last and very much explicit chapter so heed the warning.
Olivia didn't think they would continue the domesticity of the condo when they got back to her apartment but there she is, in her laundry room, trying to keep Elliot from the silk, lace and satin of her delicates.
"Stick to Noah's piles in that corner," she points after he's shown her the trick with the vinegar. "His clothes are a hell of a lot more stained than mine."
After they got to her apartment, Olivia showed him where she kept the household cleaners and excused herself to ditch her power suit for some yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt.
"Gotcha."
"El?"
"Yeah?"
"Why are you here?" She asks. "And don't tell me you had a burning desire to teach me your pre-treating ways."
He grins as he finishes with one of Noah's t-shirts.
"I'm afraid," he confesses. "If we really won't be working together anymore…I need to know whether or not we have a chance."
"A chance at what, Elliot?"
He drops the t-shirt into the wash and turns to face her.
"At what I hope we were moving towards before I left in May."
"You still had your ring on in May," she points out. "So maybe you just wanted what we had before you left SVU."
Elliot closes the distance between them, pulls the camisole from her hands and tosses it aside.
"Unless you think I'm some award-winning actor Olivia, I assure you I meant everything I said in that last session," he asserts, dropping his eyes to her lips. "And I couldn't exactly hide my response to everything you said to me."
"Yeah, I uh…I noticed," she admits, leaning back against the washer. "That was physiological and uncontrollable. As for your whispers, I just took that as what you needed to say to entice Spires."
"It wasn't," he urges. "Is that what you're going with?"
"What?"
"You don't remember what you said on the elevator?" Elliot asks. "That you were just as affected," he reminds her. "And the way you were touching me? Kissing my neck?"
Olivia laughs.
"What's so funny?" He asks, resting both hands beside her hips, caging her in.
The move instantly increases her heart rate.
"Those were a few innocent pecks to make it look good," she tries. "What about the way you latched on to my neck in the foyer?"
Elliot remembers. He also recalls the unmistakable moan he heard and would very much like to hear again.
"Like this?" He whispers before opening his warm mouth against the sensitive skin below her left ear.
He uses the strength of his tongue to run it back and forth along her skin, teasing it with his teeth and lips before letting go.
"Yes," Olivia rasps, trying to stifle her moan.
"I think I can do better," he says after pulling back.
"Better than what?" She asks, her irises now as dark as his.
Instead of answering, Elliot palms her face, slowly leaning down, giving her a chance to pull away or reject him again. She does neither. He takes her lower lip, grazes on it with his teeth before sucking it inside his mouth. Olivia moans and puts her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer as he tastes her for the first time.
"I missed that part," he tells her, dropping his hands to her hips. "I've wanted to kiss you since the first time you whispered to me."
"I've wanted to kiss you since 2006," she confesses, lowering her arms to rest her palms against his denim blue shirt.
The year of Victor Paul Gitano. The case that broke them…the first time.
"Me too," Elliot admits. "You know what else I've wanted to do since then?"
Olivia rolls her eyes but grins at his obvious meaning.
"Why don't you whisper it to me," she jokes.
But Elliot isn't derailed as he leans towards her again. She watches as his right hand disappears beneath her t-shirt and gasps as he runs his thumb back and forth over the skin of her waist. Olivia feels his breath on her neck before he's nibbling her earlobe, then comes the depth of his utterance.
"I wanna strip you out of those yoga pants, sit you on this washer, fuck you with my fingers and finish you off with my tongue," he rasps. "I wanna make you cum, Olivia."
It is absolutely the last thing she expected her married for over forty years, Catholic guilt-ridden, father of five, ex-partner to say without the guise of work. The first and last time he'd seen her in just her bra during the Bushido case, he blushed so hard she thought he had a rash. No wonder he got shot later. But clearly, he's conquered whatever hurdle that caused his distress that night. And, if the moisture she suddenly feels in her underwear is any indication, it won't be hard to get what he wants.
The fact that she's still very much worked up from everything he whispered in their Lemons to Lemonade session, gives her zero pause and no second thoughts as she makes a decision.
"Well, it's not happening on top of this cold-ass Maytag," she says, taking his hand and leading him down the hall.
The second she crosses the threshold of her bedroom, Elliot picks her up and puts her on the mattress. He wastes no time taking down her pink and black laced underwear with her yoga pants as he crawls up her body for another passionate kiss.
Olivia slides her tongue against his, happily being devoured before pulling away to whisper in his ear.
"Take off the rest," she instructs. "I wanna feel your mouth everywhere."
He helps her peel the Knicks t-shirt off then tosses the matching pink and black laced bra to the floor to join the growing pile. She moans at the feeling of his palm covering one breast, rubbing at her nipple with his thumb while his lips are on the other, treating the hardened bud to the texture of his tongue.
"God yes," Olivia rasps.
She thoroughly enjoys nipple play and Elliot takes his time loving on both breasts with his hands and mouth before moving down her body, kissing every square inch of the velvety soft skin he encounters.
"Wait," she says, stopping him from going any farther. "Ditch the clothes, Stabler."
He stands to the side of the bed, slowly revealing chiseled pecs, six-pack abs and muscled thighs before getting down to his black boxer briefs. Olivia doesn't get how he's ignoring the growing bulge in his shorts as he climbs alongside her body to join their lips again. She palms his face as he ravages her mouth while snaking his hand down between her thighs.
She takes one of Elliot's index fingers, widens her legs, slides him deep in her folds to gather moisture then brings him back to her clit.
"Firm, slow, circles," she instructs after they come up for air.
He nods in understanding, kissing his way down her body until he's inhaling her essence.
"I got it from here," Elliot tells her, slipping his index finger inside to curl the digit against her walls as his tongue takes over the motion on her clit before sucking it into the warmth of his mouth.
"Fuck,' she moans. "Just like that. Don't stop."
Once the wetness of her heat builds, he adds another finger then pulls her right thigh over his shoulder, opening her further to give him better access. Olivia palms the back of his head as she whimpers and moans, manipulating one of her breasts to build her pleasure as he reaches for the other.
Elliot was right. He needs zero instruction. The man is playing with her body like Yo-Yo Ma on his favorite cello. She's flushed like a sweet rosé and a thin sheen of sweat coats her skin. A human tongue shouldn't be able to do whatever it is that has her writhing against him, seeking it out, thrusting her hips forward over and over again.
Moments later he feels her walls pulsating against his fingers as she bucks off the bed, forcing her to slip from his mouth. A smile spreads across her face after she catches her breath. Whatever happens with them in the future, his ability to do that, will absolutely earn her forgiveness a hell of a lot sooner. Of course, she'll never tell her former partner that.
"I don't think I've ever seen you speechless," Elliot says, hovering above her.
"Well," she says, trying to form words. "You've never…gone down…on me before, either."
Olivia pulls him towards her, immediately opening his mouth with her own, tasting the heady mix of them before pushing him away.
"Lose the underwear," she tells him.
"So bossy."
"You love it."
Elliot grins as he climbs off her to stand at the side of the bed.
"Wait," she says. "Let me."
She rolls off the mattress, drops to the carpeted floor on her knees and eyes him from beneath her lashes.
"Liv," he begins as she dips her fingers into his waistband. "You don't have—
"—I know," Olivia interrupts. "But kissing you isn't the only thing I've wanted since 2006 either."
He reaches to caress her cheekbone with his thumb as she begins to tug his boxer briefs over his strong thighs. The second he steps out of them she takes hold of his length and girth as it bobs free.
"You have no idea how many times I've fantasized about this," Elliot admits, his heart rate increasing with the flush of his skin.
She begins working him, rubbing the bit of fluid at his tip up and down his shaft.
"You let me know if reality lives up to the fantasy," Olivia suggests before taking him into her mouth.
"Fuck me," he manages.
She slides her tongue all over him, taking him deep until he hits the back of her throat and lets him feel the vibration of her voice as she hums. Elliot threads his fingers through her hair and begins moving as Olivia does, in sync while she carries out everything she described in her sensuous whisper. But he doesn't want to get so far along that he can't speak.
"Liv," he begins, pulling away from her. "I don't wanna cum in your mouth," he manages as he fights to hold on. "I wanna be inside you."
"That makes two of us," Olivia says, standing to wrap her arms around his neck. "What did you say you wanted to do?" She asks. "Push into me from behind and punish my g-spot?"
He slides his hands over her ass, picks her up and lays her on the edge of the bed.
"That's what I thought he wanted to hear," Elliot answers, climbing over her again, allowing the smattering of hair on his chest to meet the softness of her ample bosom. "We'll do that later," he promises, rubbing his shaft against her folds. "But the first time? I wanna see your face while I'm punishing your g-spot."
"Me too," she says, taking hold of his length and guiding him inside her until he takes over then pulls him down for another kiss.
As he inches through the wet heat of her, he devours Olivia's mouth before moving to latch on to an apricot-hued bud. He grazes it with his teeth at the same time he makes the final push, causing her to gasp at the dual sensations.
First, he's slow and rhythmic, making sure to bottom out inside her before pulling back and doing it again. The flush over them deepens, his ears are nearly red, their breaths grow shorter and quicker.
"Faster," Olivia says.
"God, you feel so fucking good," he tells her.
Elliot puts both legs over his shoulders and speeds up, planting his feet and grasping her thighs as she moans and whimpers.
"Harder," she manages. "Yes El, fuck!"
He moves a hand to her clit, rubbing those firm, slow, circles that she loves so much until her back snaps off the bed and she's screaming his name. He moves Olivia's legs off his shoulders, pulls her feet behind him and leans over her, grinding and undulating his hips with purpose, creating friction against her clit.
"One more time," he rasps. "Let me feel you, Liv."
"I—I can't."
Elliot drops his mouth to one of her pebbled, hardened nipples and latches on. He treats the bud to the texture of his tongue as he continues pumping away, rhythmically snapping his hips until an explosive third orgasm is vibrating her body, triggering his own. After his heart slows enough, he pulls out and lays beside her.
A few moments later, Olivia throws an arm over her face and laughs.
"What's that about?"
She uncovers her eyes, looks over at the pillow he's lying on.
"Nothing I…it's just been an embarrassingly long time since I've had three orgasms back-to-back," she confesses. "And I can't believe…you were the one that made 'em happen."
He kickstands his arm beneath his head and starts running his fingers from the space between her breasts to her lower abdomen.
"You didn't think I was capable?"
Olivia covers his hand with hers, stopping the motion.
"I knew you were good for at least one," she answers, making him laugh. "I mean, you do have five kids."
"Gee, thanks."
"No, I just…didn't think I was capable," she admits. "But I can't tell you how happy I am to be proven wrong."
"And I'm happy reality was better than my fantasies," Elliot says. "I almost didn't survive seeing you drop to your knees."
"I almost didn't survive that last orgasm," she quips, sitting up. "Be right back."
She gingerly walks to the bathroom and shuts the door behind herself. A minute later he hears a flush and the water as she washes her hands. When she comes back out, he's repositioned against the headboard. Olivia doesn't hesitate to slide under the sheets and join him.
"The next time you have to leave, you can skip the jewelry and repeat everything you did tonight," she tells him. "That's the kind of happiness I can get used to."
He shakes his head as he laughs again. Hearing her stomach growling makes them both laugh even harder.
"Hey, I'm hungry," Olivia excuses. "I haven't eaten since breakfast."
"We can order something."
"What? No home-cooked meal?"
"We've been doing that all week," he tells her. "I'm ready for some Woo Hop."
When he moves to get up, she snags his wrist.
"I need a shower," she says. "You wanna help me out? Somebody has my legs still feeling like Jello."
Elliot smirks as she throws her arms around his shoulders, lifts her from the bed and carries her to the en suite. Once inside, she leans against the sink as he turns on the water, making sure it's warm enough.
Olivia steps inside, putting him behind her as she saturates her hair beneath the warm spray. He surprises her by pouring shampoo into his palms and running it through her tresses, permeating the space with the aroma of peonies, vanilla and grapefruit. She moans as he works up a lather, intermittently scratching and massaging her scalp.
"God, that feels good."
"Cliché or not this is something else I fantasized about."
When she faces him to rinse the suds, his dick visibly hardens as Elliot watches the lather run over her breasts and down into the valley of her thighs, evidence that he's thinking about it right now.
"I gotta be able to walk when I pick up Noah tomorrow," she tells him. "So, you keep that thing away from me."
"Didn't you say new couples have sex all the time," he purrs into Olivia's ear.
"I'm not fucking you in this shower, falling and having to explain that to Fin," she asserts, grabbing her body wash. "I'd never live it down."
"Understood," Elliot says. "But after we're done eating that Chinese, I'm gonna find something very fucking sturdy to bend you over and we're giving your neighbors something to complain about."
He kisses her before she can respond, thoroughly and deeply until she has to pull back to take in oxygen.
"I missed you," she whispers, resting her forehead against his. "The short stents when I left, our decade apart and this last case before you gave me the compass," she explains. "I missed you every time so I'm gonna try to let my walls down."
"I love you," he says. "For all the pain I caused, I understand keeping a few up until you feel safe," he adds. "Thanks for giving this a chance."
"Don't thank me yet," she tells him, squeezing body wash into his hands. "Somebody that looks a lot like you, recommended making you work for it."
He smiles and starts to wash.
"Speaking of work," he begins, garnering her attention as he runs his hands over his chest and arms. "You really gonna put in that request to keep our squads separate?" He asks. "It is what we do best."
Olivia raises an eyebrow.
"I meant, it's the second thing we do best."
"It may not be a bad idea, El," she begins. "Sooner or later, we'll have to disclose anyway."
The fact that she's starting to see the possibilities of a long-term intimate relationship enough to inform the brass, causes the biggest of grins to spread across Elliot's face. But she's too busy rinsing off to notice.
"True," he manages, once he's meeting her eyes again. "But you're not my C.O. and we're not in the same unit," he adds. "I can still consult without going into the field with you."
Olivia helps him rinse off before stepping out of the shower. She wraps herself in a towel and hands him one as he follows.
"I think you just want the opportunity to have sex in my office," she suggests, watching him dry off. "You're not fooling anyone."
"As if you haven't had any fantasies involving your desk or that little room," he says, wrapping her in his arms. "But seriously. I just like calling you, 'partner'."
"You still in love with me?"
"Always," he answers, nuzzling her neck before pulling back.
"Then you'll have plenty of chances to refer to me as your partner," she says as he trails her into the bedroom, pulling his phone from his pants pocket to order their food. "Possessive ass."
Olivia slides on a pair of white cotton panties, some plaid pajama pants and a faded Islanders t-shirt before tossing an old pair of sweats to Elliot. He ducks them and pulls his boxer briefs back on.
"Too many clothes," he says as she returns to the bathroom. "I'm already hot."
"You spent all week going to bed in pajama pants and a tank," she points out. "I doubt it's any warmer in here."
"Figured walking around in my underwear would make you uncomfortable," he tells her. "I stripped down once I was behind closed doors."
She nods her understanding as Elliot sits on the bed, watching her blow-dry her hair and starts her skincare routine like suddenly everything she does turns him on. He leans back with storm-ravaged eyes, licking his chops like a hungry cartoon lion. When Olivia's finished, she approaches and gets pulled between his legs once she's close enough.
"You promised to feed me, Elliot," she reminds him. "I'm not putting out again unless I get my chicken Lo Mein first."
He starts rubbing the back of her thighs until she leans over, palms his face and kisses him.
"Promise me something."
"Okay," she says grinning. "I promise to put out after you feed me."
"Not that," he tells her, giving her a playful tap on the ass. "Promise you won't stop talking to me when I inevitably piss you off again," he says, growing serious. "That you won't use distance to punish me," he adds. "Or avoidance to push me away."
If Tucker wasn't dead and Cassidy wasn't probably somewhere fishing in Florida, Olivia would think he'd been talking to them. Hell, even Barba could likely weigh in on her behavior and they were only platonic.
"I could ask the same of you," she points out. "You do the same shit except in different ways Mr. Stay out of it, Liv," she reminds him. "Or throwing yourself into a case or a UC to avoid dealing with your emotions."
"Touché," Elliot says as she straddles his waist and sits in his lap. "I guess we both have our own ways of running or protecting ourselves."
"I fell in love with you too you know," she finally confesses. "So, the last thing I want is to be apart now that we're both ready," she adds. "And while I can't promise that trying this with you won't end in disaster," she continues, smiling. "I can promise…that this is not our last good day together, El."
Monday morning…
Olivia arrives early, coffee in hand, donning her signature black with a soft lilac blouse, the beautiful compass around her neck again. She is surprised to find Bruno and Churlish already at their desks.
"Morning, Cap," says Churlish. "How was your weekend?"
It was pretty uneventful after she picked up Noah. It only took twenty-four hours of her being clingy for him to ask to spend his Sunday afternoon at his friend's house from dance class. She took the opportunity to finish her delicates and soak in her own bathtub to mitigate the soreness from her recent activities.
"Productive," she answers. "My laundry piles have gotten considerably smaller."
However, Friday night, she broke her own promise to wait for food, straddled and enthusiastically rode Elliot in the armchair of her living room. He ate her out on the kitchen island two minutes after they got done with the Woo Hop then bent her over the counter to finish them both off.
She made him Lysol every surface.
"Hey. This is where my son eats," Olivia told him.
And, in the wee hours of Saturday morning after he accidentally found the infamous rose sex toy, he used it on her clit as he pounded her from behind. Things got so messy the sheets had to be changed again before they both passed out.
Later that day, a simple kiss goodbye turned into him fucking her against the wall in the foyer, letting him make good on his threat for the neighbors to call in a noise complaint. It was rough looking her doorman in the eyes when she left to pick up Noah. Olivia's vowed to make Elliot pay for that, in a very embarrassing way.
"Congrats on getting Spires," Bruno tells her. "New York City has one less serial rapist to worry about."
"Thanks," Olivia says. "But I didn't do it alone," she adds. "I hear Velasco did a damn good job getting a confession and the victims ID'd him in a line-up."
"Kicked his ass all by yourself though," Churlish points out. "And that act before? You and Detective Stabler should be studied in the academy."
Sure. A class regarding everything not to do after you've fallen in love with your partner.
"Really?" Bruno asks, raising an eyebrow. "What'd I miss while I was helping the sergeant keep this place afloat?
"I'll pass that along to McGrath," she tells Churlish, escaping towards her office before the younger woman can answer Bruno. "I'm sure he'd love that."
An hour into filling out all the case-related paperwork, two knocks interrupt her flow.
"Come in."
Her sergeant enters with a knowing smirk on his face and makes himself at home in one of the black leather chairs in front of her desk.
"Good job on wrapping the Spires case," he says. "Even without the confession, TARU traced the bugs he planted in Lemons to Lemonade back to him and they found recordings from the other victims in his apartment."
"He was smart enough to use condoms, wear gloves and force the vics to shower after the assault but I'm guessing hubris kept him from getting rid of the evidence," she tells him, closing her laptop. "Thanks again for taking Noah all last week. I hope he wasn't too much trouble."
"I told you when you picked him up it was nothing," Fin tells her. "Noah's my guy and we had a lot of fun."
"I bet. You probably let him do whatever he wanted."
"Well, I am the fun uncle," he says. "Spoiling the kid is in the job description."
Olivia smiles as she stands and rounds her desk to lean against it.
"And he couldn't stop talking about Phoebe's pancakes."
"She does turn out a good flapjack."
He lets silence fall over the room, long enough for her to become uncomfortable.
"Did you need something, Fin?"
"Just wanted to make sure you were okay after your week with Stabler," he answers. "You two still avoiding the deeper shit?"
"Uh, no," she tells him. "We talked."
"About?"
"Pretty much everything he missed while he was gone and a few things we needed to get off our chests now that he's back," she answers honestly. "It was…painful.
"Sorry to hear that but I can't say I'm surprised," Fin says. "And, since I didn't walk in here to find McGrath sitting at your desk, I take it you didn't shoot him?"
"Not yet," she answers, smirking. "We actually communicated like two adults which surprisingly didn't require an exchange of bullets," she adds, taking the seat behind her desk again. "We're good."
"You change your…dynamics?"
To distract him, she reopens her laptop as an uncontrollable blush covers her face, apparent even with her tan complexion.
"Don't you have something to do other than fishing for details about my personal life?"
"Ah, so you admit he's part of your personal life?"
Olivia squeezes her eyes shut, scrubbing a hand over her face in annoyance with herself. It was a rookie mistake to let that slip in front of her longtime and very nosey friend.
"You been talking to Churlish? Or maybe Ayanna?"
"Nope. Saw the footage from the condo myself," he answers, standing. "I watched the Benson and Stabler show over ten years so I know what pretending looks like," he reminds her. "And neither one of you can act that damn good."
"Fin we just—"
"—Look. You know you don't have to worry about me, Liv," he assures her with an honest smile. "But just in case McGrath shows up, tell Stabler to watch where he leaves those hickies," he adds as she instantly digs out her purse and starts searching for a compact.
Fin grins and opens the door to leave as she looks all over her chest and neck, discovering…nothing.
"Gotcha."
"You're fired! She yells, after he closes the door behind himself and starts laughing his ass off.
It's so hard to find good help these days.
The End.