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It feels a little surreal, on an early Tuesday morning. The sun is coming through her bedroom blinds and she can still taste orange juice in her mouth, and the pleasure is twisting around low in her belly, making it hard to catch her breath.

His tongue laps gently at her clit, circles it. She inhales sharply and shifts her weight on her elbows, her arms aching. His arms tighten around her hips and he pulls her toward him, until she's right on the edge of the mattress. He glances up at her, eyes a flash of blue, and there's something undeniably attractive about seeing him in his shirtsleeves, kneeling on her floor between her legs.

His jaw is deliciously smooth and soft this soon after shaving, and when his tongue comes in and touches her again, she nearly jumps. His grip on her tightens and keeps her cemented to the mattress and to his mouth. She exhales, and there's a hint of a moan there.

His fingers curl in on her thighs a bit in gratification.

Her cell phone suddenly trills from where it lies beside her on the bed, cast aside when they began this, and it sounds louder than usual. Her bedroom is tiny.

"Shit," she swears, a little breathlessly.

"Ignore it," Elliot orders, his words against her skin. He licks.

She swallows. "What if it's the captain?"

"We'll be there soon," he points out. He glances at her as he says it, moving his lips deliberately against her swollen clit.

She lets it go to voice mail and arches her head back, closing her eyes. Heat is working its way into every corner of her body. Sparks. Electricity. She presses up against his mouth, and he makes a satisfied sound, his tongue sliding around and around…

Her phone rings again, a sure sign it's work, and she grits her teeth and reaches for it. Elliot moves faster and he snatches it off the mattress and it disappears into his pocket. He slides his arms back under her thighs and around her hips again. She has no idea what she'll tell the captain when they finally get to work. "Sorry, sir, Elliot showed up and went down on me this morning and it took me a long time to come. Next time we'll be quicker."

Yeah. No.

"El, what if it's an emergency?"

He glances up at her again, eyes lazy-looking. "Then come," he says. "And we'll go."

He's looking right in her eyes when he says 'come' and she swallows what seems like a quart of saliva and collapses onto her back on the mattress. Elliot Stabler talking blatantly about sex is never something she'll get used to. It'll always get her. Every time.

He sucks then, lips finding the right spot, and his whole mouth is moving on her and it's exactly the direct contact she needs. The pleasure jumps up inside of her, and she feels that edge right there, wants to come so bad she can barely think.

"Jesus," she whispers. "El… God."

He exhales sharply against her, his breath hot, his arms tightening around her in want. She can feel his arousal through the tight tremble of his muscles, the eagerness of his mouth. He sucks again, focusing in narrowly right where it's the most intense, and she can't do anything except breathe and flex and just feel as she winds up tighter, slower, taut until she almost aches.

And then she's tipping over, rushing down, coming hard, moaning as the wave crashes through her and then pulses until she can't see or think or hear or even breathe.

God.

He knows better than to keep going after she's come, and she feels it as he presses his mouth to the inside of her thigh and waits for her to get her bearings back.

"Fuck, Liv," he says roughly. "You have no idea what it's like to watch you like that."

If it's half as amazing as watching him come then it's probably pretty spectacular, she reasons, a little embarrassed, a little pleased.

She's languid with the release, muscles limp and feeling warm and pleasantly relieved.

Her phone goes again, muffled this time, and a second later Elliot's goes too. His arms slip from her thighs and he swears. "Fuck me."

She sits up as he sinks down onto his heels on the floor and shoves a hand against his crotch. She grins. "I guess not this morning."

He glares at her, disgruntled, and slides a hand down his own pants to rearrange the obvious erection. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

She gets down on the floor next to him and slips her arms around his neck. "Are you close? Maybe I can just…"

But he's shaking his head, even as his phone goes off again, and Jesus, they're going to have some explaining to do to Cragen.

"Just give me a moment. We gotta get going."

She presses her lips to the corner of his jaw, just under his ear. He groans. "Olivia… Stop."

She has mercy then, because it'll be a long day. The one rule they agreed on was not to do this while on duty. Ever.

"Later," she says, giving him a quick kiss, and she stands to run into the bathroom and wash up quickly. She walks back in buckling her belt and he's sitting on the bed now.

"Okay?" she asks, reaching for her shoes.

He nods, but his brows are furrowed sullenly. "I might put a few heads through a few walls today."

She sighs at that, because it's true. A frustrated Elliot is a touchy Elliot, and if any of the suspects give them any lip today, she'll be pulling him off them. It makes for a long day.

"I promise," she says, as he stands and picks up his suit jacket. "Payback tonight."

He brushes by her through the bedroom door and his eyes lock on hers with that familiar intensity. "I'll hold you to that," he says, voice gruff, and she shivers.

~end~