3They say nothing happens by chance. Everything is fate, kismet, meant to be, or written in the stars. But Olivia has lived too long and seen too many traumas perpetrated against victims to believe any of their pain was predestined or somehow necessary in the grand design.
Yet, there she sits in a hotel bar, having decided to stay for a drink after an op was called off because their perp was killed by one of his victims. Noah is with the Carisi's, having expected to have to spend all night waiting for the guy and processing the DD5s. Now she has a free Friday night and an empty apartment.
Her first thought?
Let Fin and Bruno handle the paperwork. Hell. It's been a long week.
What she's not expecting is her former partner to sidle up next to her. She didn't know he was back from his last UC gig. They'd only sporadically talked or exchanged text messages during the months he'd been gone, none of which gave her any idea that he was due to return.
But here he is.
Elliot's grown his beard back, more of a goatee really, neater than when he was Eddie Ashes so she doesn't hate it. While she's wearing her standard all-black office attire minus the body armor she tossed in the back of her SUV, she feels woefully under-dressed compared to his three-piece Italian suit with coordinated handkerchief and tie.
"Looks like you've had better days," he opens with.
If Olivia's surprised to see him, she's got a great poker face.
"You saying I look bad?"
"Quite the opposite," he responds, smiling. "I've been in this crazy city for a week and you're definitely the most beautiful thing I've seen."
Oh, we're playing that game, she thinks.
"Thank you," she tells him. "What brings you to our crazy city…
"Dante. Dante Romano," he answers. "And you are?" He asks, offering his hand.
"Simone," she tells him, sliding her palm along his.
As always when they touch, the sparks are instant and both linger before pulling away.
"No last name, huh?" He jabs. "I get it. Trust is earned."
"It is," she says, sipping her merlot. "So…
"Ah yes, what brings me to the city," he reminds himself. "Business, like most people," he continues. "I have my eye on a struggling restaurant that I plan on buying and hopefully turning around."
"New York City is a rough market," she points out. "Most places barely make it a year before going belly up," she adds. "You just like risky investments or are you a restauranteur?"
"A chef, actually," he answers. "I have restaurants in Chicago, Houston, Miami, Los Angeles, and now hopefully…Manhattan."
"Well, color me impressed."
"I think you'd be even more so if you let me cook for you sometime," he says, smiling. "I have a few specialties I think you'd enjoy."
It disarms her, those pearly whites of his, they always have. And as crazy as it sounds, she's finding it easier to talk to this latest alter ego of his rather than her former partner.
"I thought you were only in the city temporarily?"
"Actually, I'm coming back home," Elliot says. "I was born and raised in Brooklyn,"
"What about your restaurants?"
"That's the beauty of hiring great managers," he tells her. "I trust 'em to keep things going in my absence and they haven't let me down yet," he adds. "Took me a while but I figured out trying to be a one-man show is unnecessary and…exhausting."
"Wise words."
She really needs to learn how to delegate more. Cragen wasn't in the field nearly as much and he didn't have a kid to raise solo.
"Care to share what it is you do?"
"Psychologist," she answers. "Specifically, for those with PTSD for various reasons."
"Wow," Elliot tells her. "Now I'm impressed. But it sounds like it can be…heavy work."
Olivia tips her glass towards him as if to say, "That's what the wine's for," before taking another sip.
"So, Simone, is there anything I can do to make your day better?"
He already has but…
"You can get me another one of these," she answers, smiling before finishing her first glass.
He signals the bartender, gets her another merlot, himself a whiskey, and eases into their acquired personas of Dante and Simone.
An hour later they're sharing each other's space, talking closely like they used to, laughing and to her surprise…flirting.
"And if I let you cook for me, what do you make that's so impressive?"
"My cannelloni di Ricotti e spinaci con besciamella," he answers in perfect Italian, sending little flutters to her stomach. "With your choice of garden or Caesar salad of course."
"And I trust you'd find the perfect wine to pair with it all?"
"Without a doubt," he answers with a smirk.
"I gotta tell you, Dante," she says, leaning closer. "That sounds amazing."
"I haven't even given you dessert options yet."
"I'm sure whatever you come up with will be equally appetizing."
Elliot puts a few stray hairs behind her ear like he's always wanted, leans in, and whispers.
"I bet you taste better, Simone," he rasps, running his thumb down the side of her neck.
She's never been one for public displays of affection but the hand she hadn't even realized had gravitated to his thigh, squeezes in response to his comment. Once he pulls back to meet her eyes again, his are storm-ravaged blue, hers…nearly black.
They've been taking things glacially slow the last three years since his return. There have been no dates. No meetings for drinks. Nothing outside of work. The closest they came to anything intimate was him carrying her out of that diner in Ohio.
It's been a whole lot of waiting, processing, working on forgiveness, creating a new but familiar dynamic, and telling herself she wasn't ready. But after the last hour, pretending they're strangers with no history and therefore no baggage? Olivia wants him in the purest most uncomplicated way since they've met.
Elliot or rather, Dante, is giving her right place, right time, right guy vibes, and the right chemistry for the kind of mind-blowing one-night-stand she hasn't had in years. Because, let's face it, the asshole that shall not be named barely got her off. It was the inaccuracy of nostalgia that had her thinking it was better than she remembered, grinning like a fool.
Olivia has not a single doubt that the man sitting in front of her could get the job done and then some. Likely, more than once if neither of their phones ring. She saw the happiness on Amanda's face when she and Sonny were together at their baby's christening. Her friend took a chance and found her happily ever after. Maybe it's time the captain does the same with her former partner. She'll take a gratifying fantasy for a few hours over the loneliness of her everyday life.
"Tell me, Dante," she begins. "Does your room have a good view?"
He has the smile of a man who is both surprised and insanely turned on.
"No. It has a great view."
"I think I should be the judge of that."
"Whatever the lady wants."
"Good choice."
Elliot stands, pays the tab, pulls a hotel key from his pocket, and slides it towards her on the bar.
"After you, Simone."
Minutes later she's looking out over Manhattan in floor-to-ceiling windows from his corner suite thirty-two flights up. The lights of the city reflect off the Hudson, the moon is full and bright and a few stars have managed to escape the winter clouds of the evening sky.
"You were right," Olivia admits, feeling the heat of his body as Elliot moves to stand behind her. "This is one hell of a view."
"Not better than mine," he says, resting tentative hands on her waist.
She turns to find he's shed his jacket, vest, and tie. Olivia wastes no time resting her hands on his chest, feeling the rapid pace of his heart before sliding them up and around his neck as Elliot instinctively puts his arms around her waist.
"Thank you."
"Just calling it as I see it."
"I meant for these last couple of hours," Olivia clarifies. "It's been a while since things have felt so…effortless with someone," she continues. "I've missed it."
"Me too."
"You know what else I've missed?" She asks, melding her body against his.
"Tell me."
But she doesn't. She simply leans in and brushes her lips against his, gently at first then more of a firm press before pulling back.
"You know what I miss?" Elliot asks.
"Tell me."
When he kisses her it's not as simple nor is he gentle. He nibbles on her lower lip and traces his tongue over the seam of her mouth until she opens it for him. From there he tastes her merlot and she, his whiskey. Her responding moan slips out between them.
If ever they locked lips, she assumed it would be all-consuming. The man doesn't do anything half-assed. He always puts his whole heart into it and the way he's kissing her is no different. Her heart races, her skin is on fire, and with the way she has to clench her thighs for relief, lube will be wholly unnecessary.
Once they stop to breathe, Olivia's flushed, Elliot's red from the tips of his ears down through his collar and they're both nearly vibrating with need.
"What do you want?" He asks.
"I want you to keep improving my day," she answers.
"And tomorrow?" He asks, hopefully.
"I'm gonna want that cannelloni dinner," Olivia answers with a smirk.
Elliot exhales with relief.
"But what do you have in mind for improving my night, Dante?" She asks.
"You ever orgasmed with a view of the Manhattan skyline?"
Olivia has dated wealthy men from Wall Street, doctors, and professional athletes. All with expensive taste. She's been fucked against the cold panes of penthouse glass and rode her dates cowgirl style in beds with the balcony doors open. The captain has come plenty of times in full view of the Manhattan skyline.
But Simone hasn't.
"Can't say that I have," she answers.
"Would you like to?"
That has to be a rhetorical question.
"Yes, please."
He pulls her into another kiss while he pops the button on her black slacks and lowers the zipper. He doesn't bother teasing, just slips his hand inside her blue cotton briefs, surprised at the moisture he finds.
"Simone," he says, playfully. "You do want to orgasm."
"Sooner rather than later," she urges. "Again, it's been a rough day."
"Noted."
Elliot turns her so that she's facing the beautiful view as Olivia flattens both palms against the glass. He returns his hand to her underwear, and runs one then two fingers against her folds, coating them in her essence before finding her clit causing her to gasp.
"Good?" Elliot asks.
"Yes," she manages. "Firm, slow circles."
He covers one of her hands with his as he noses her hair away from her neck, planting kisses on her sweet-smelling skin as he takes perfect direction, winding her up until she's undulating her hips against his fingers. She tries to notice the Freedom Tower, at least one of the twenty-one bridges the city has, and the Hudson reflecting the night sky, but with every stroke, Olivia feels his growing erection against her ass. The combination has her leaving sweaty palm prints against the glass as she rides out her first orgasm.
"Fuck," she says, breathless.
"Feeling better?" He asks as she turns in his arms.
"Getting there," Olivia tells him, a silly grin on her face.
"We should work on that."
Minutes later there's a trail of shoes and clothes from the bank of windows to the California king they landed on once they managed to make it to the bedroom. Olivia slips her bra off and tosses it to the floor. Elliot continues with his open-mouthed kisses over her clavicle and the curve of her right breast until he's sucking a hardened nipple into his mouth, licking and nibbling the peach-hued bud with his lips.
"God, Dante," she gasps, keeping up the charade. "That feels so good."
Her other breast is treated to the roughened texture of his palm and thumb as he kneads the meaty flesh while Olivia palms his head, encouraging his ministrations.
"Just gettin' started," he says, continuing with kisses down her stomach until he meets the band of her blue cotton panties.
"Can I take these off?" He asks.
"If you don't, I will."
Elliot slides his warm palms up her thighs beneath the material, hooks his thumbs, and pulls them down her supple flesh until she's kicking them off. Once they're gone, he climbs over her again, claiming her mouth until they're both breathless.
"You said something about tasting me," she reminds him.
"You're right, Simone," Elliot says in a deep rasp. "And I am hungry."
He wastes no time lowering himself into position and Olivia unashamedly widens her legs so he can fit. He spreads her with one hand until he can use the strength of his tongue on her entrance to her clit, slowly then all at once.
"Fuck," she manages, palming her breasts. "More please."
Elliot enthusiastically delivers, adding his index finger as he works her with his mouth. She feels like it's been forever since someone has given her such rapt attention. Two minutes in and she's rolling her hips in time with his tongue and the second finger he's curling inside of her.
"I-I-please," she stammers. "I'm almost there just…"
He moves her hand from her right breast and kneads it while his mouth and fingers continue working her into a frenzy. Once he finds that the spot makes her nearly choke him with her thighs, he punishes it over and over again with the dexterity of his thick fingers, sucks on her clit, and seconds later, it's her back snapping off the bed as she rides out her second orgasm.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
It's a good thing the hotel is nice enough to have great soundproofing because if not, they'd be getting a call from the front desk.
Elliot skims his hands along her thighs as he kisses his way up her body, careful to avoid her sensitive nipples while placing a kiss over her heart before capturing her lips.
"How's your day now…Simone?"
"Almost perfect," she tells him.
"Almost?"
"Yeah, almost. One of us is wearing too many clothes," she says, eying his gray boxer briefs.
He climbs off the bed, drops the offending underwear at his feet then returns to the juncture of her thighs.
"You have a favorite position, Dante?"
Elliot smiles, rolls over, and puts his back against the headboard.
"Oh really?"
"This way if you give me a heart attack, you don't have to worry about trying to get from under me," he says grinning. "And…I have a feeling I'm gonna love the view."
Olivia grins as she sits up and climbs over him to straddle his lap, compass necklace swaying between them. She takes the girth and weight of him in her hand, preparing to line them up when he stops her.
"Wait."
"What's wrong?"
"As fun as this has been, I don't wanna call out somebody else's name when I come," he tells her, sincerely. "I want you to hear yours and I wanna hear mine."
"Okay, El," she says, rubbing her soft palm up and down his shaft. "We'll do it your way."
He nods and smiles as she lifts and begins running the head of him through her moistened folds before inching her way down until she's fully seated.
"God. Liv."
"You're right," she admits. "I like hearing you say my name in that voice."
Olivia raises and comes down again, doing a Kegel and making him groan loudly.
"Fuck me."
"Oh, I am, partner. Don't you worry."
She's slow at first, letting him feel as much of her skin as he wants, rubbing her erect nipples against what little chest hair he has, increasing her own stimulation. Olivia puts her mouth everywhere she can reach, biting his earlobe, sucking on his neck, and undulating her hips until they're sweaty and panting.
"Shit, Liv," he manages, grasping her ass and pummeling up as she presses down, meeting him thrust for thrust.
"Fuck, El," she says, quickening the pace.
"I know, I know," he agrees. "I'm almost there."
Elliot reaches between them starting the firm circles with his thumb on her clit as she leans away to give him better access. Simultaneously, he attaches his mouth to one of her breasts, treating her to his tongue again, then letting her feel the friction of his beard against her nipples as he makes his way back to her neck with open-mouthed kisses.
"El-El-Elliot! Fuck!"
Moments later her third orgasm begins. Elliot lets her ride wave after wave and come down before flipping them. He pushes Olivia onto her back as he chases his, climaxing within a minute of the position change, coming with a grunt and the whisper of her name against her throat.
"Damn," he manages, trying to catch his breath as they separate.
"I agree," she says, laughing. "We've wasted way too much time not doing that."
"You said you weren't ready."
"If I'd known then…what I know now," Olivia breathes, covering herself with the 1000 thread count sheet. "I would've been ready a hell of a lot sooner."
"Leaving without a goodbye, ignoring your calls, a decade-long silence, and my neurotic behavior once I did come back were plenty of reasons not to have been ready," Elliot points out. "I would've waited."
"I got that. But as much fun as going down memory lane and eating Chinese food in my office was, I'd happily take the three orgasms I had tonight instead," she tells him with a smirk.
Elliot laughs and plants a kiss on the top of her head.
"I'll keep that in mind the next time you're having a bad day."
Ten minutes later after they've cleaned themselves up and ordered room service, they're back and bed, cuddling with her against his chest.
"What made you decide that tonight was the night?" he asks.
"I like Dante and Simone," she answers with a shrug. "They don't have the same complications we do," she adds. "How'd you choose chef as a profession."
"Been working on perfecting a recipe or two I learned in Italy to impress a certain captain should I get the chance," he answers. "First thing that came to mind."
"I'm looking forward to it."
"What about you?" Elliot asks. "How'd you come up with psychology as a profession?"
"I have a lot of experience on the couch," she admits. "I could probably test to get my license today," she adds. "But we can save all the whys for some other time."
"I'm guessing the new scars are part of the whys?"
"Not so new anymore but yeah," she admits as he caresses the key-shaped skin at her waist.
"Take all the time you need," he tells her. "So, what were you doing here?"
"Set up an op to arrest a perp but one of his victims didn't have the patience to wait for justice so…"
"I understand the inclination."
"What about you?" Olivia asks. "OC set you up as a high roller from the old country there, Dante Romano?"
He laughs at the uber-Italian-sounding moniker.
"My assignment out of state ended a week ago," he explains. "Today's op had me in a hotel across the street arranging to buy a large quantity of firearms."
"Across the street?" She asks, leaning back to meet his eyes.
"Yep," he answers. "But once it was done, I happened to be getting into my car when I saw you angrily tossing your vest into yours," he adds. "When you called Noah to say goodnight, I ducked out to book this room."
"Awful presumptuous of you there, Detective Stabler."
Elliot drops his hand over the curve of her ass and gives it a quick squeeze.
"Wishful thinking, Captain Benson."
"So, I had an op at this hotel, and you had one across the street on the same night at roughly the same time and we ended up in bed," Olivia says. "What are the odds?"
"With me working in Brooklyn and you working here," he begins. "In two different units? I don't know but I'm glad it happened."
"You don't believe in fate?"
"We've both seen too much horrible shit done to people who didn't deserve it to believe that any of it was meant to be," he answers. "But I do think that now and then the universe grants us with a serendipitous set of circumstances," he goes on. "It happened when Cragen partnered us together and it happened again tonight."
"Happened with Noah too," Olivia tells him, running her fingers along the happy trail of his abdomen.
"He's a great kid, Liv."
"He gets attached."
"He uh, another reason you hesitated?"
"Yeah," she answers. "He's already had too many people come in and leave," she adds. "I know what it feels like to lose you so…"
"Let him get attached, Olivia," Elliot urges, running a hand through her dark tresses. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Serendipity, huh?" She asks.
"Serendipity."
"When we tell the story of how we finally got together to our kids and friends, we're gonna have to tell them the first date came before the sex," he says, making her laugh. "There will be no collecting of bets without us getting a cut."