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Olivia was beginning to regret her decision to leave the window open.
When she came home from going on a run, the apartment felt stifling, so she immediately opened the window wide before stripping off her soggy running clothes and jumping into the shower.
She rinsed off and went into her room to put on pajamas, and as she was walking out into the living room the chill hit her, and she remembered the window.
Whatever happened next was a little unclear. Maybe the ball of her foot was still wet from the shower, or maybe it was the stupid corner of the rug that was always folding over, but somehow her foot slipped and caught the rug and she stumbled. As she flailed in midair she put her arms out to catch herself and immediately felt the stab of pain as her back wrenched from the unexpected motion.
It was just a tiny tweak, just a misstep, but fuck. In a split second she knew she was fucked. She sank to her hands and knees, eyes pinched shut, and rolled onto her back. A low, strained groan spilled from deep in her chest.
The one saving grace was she had her phone in her hand when she tripped.
Now, she held it above her face, open to her contacts, and she was weighing her options.
Amanda was going to be her first call, even though she wasn’t sure what her friend would be able to do for her. It was worth a shot.
The phone rang three times and she answered.
“Hey, Liv. What’s up?” There was some background chatter and the sound of clattering dishes.
“Well, I sort of got myself into a situation. I uh - I threw my back out, and I can’t move. I’m on my living room floor.” Olivia winced as she made another attempt at rolling to her side.
“Oh, shit! Okay, let me just make a call and get someone here to watch the kids.”
“What about Carisi?”
“He’s still in court.”
That’s when Olivia remembered that Carisi was in court with Fin. There went another one of her emergency contact options.
“Okay. Just use your key. Thanks, Amanda.”
“Of course. See you soon.”
The line went dead and Olivia lay there trying to think who else she could call if Amanda couldn’t help move her. Aside from Fin, there was no one else on the team who she’d known for long enough to feel comfortable with them seeing her in this compromised state.
She was their boss, the dynamic was just too weird.
There was one other person she hadn’t totally considered yet, but she wasn’t even going to let her brain go there. She didn’t even know if he was home or if he was undercover again. It seemed like half the times she texted him this year, he didn’t respond. It would be absolutely mortifying to have the man who abandoned her for ten years come to her rescue now as she lay helpless and vulnerable on her hardwood floor.
Nope. She decided that wasn’t an option.
She worked her way through emails as she tried to ignore the stabbing pain in her back that reared up every time she attempted to take a deep breath or shift her position.
It was probably no more than forty minutes when there was a soft knock on the door and the click of the lock turning as Amanda used the spare emergency key she’d given her years ago.
Amanda slipped inside and scanned the room, quickly spotting Olivia flat on her back near the coffee table.
“Oh, Liv! Fuck. Are you okay?” She rushed to her side and squatted down next to her, quickly assessing the situation.
“I’m fine. I didn’t hit my head or anything, it’s just my back. I can’t move at all.”
“What do you want me to try and do?” She looked bewildered, and Olivia realized how silly this must look.
“Honestly, I don’t even know. Can you try to help me up?”
Amanda’s wide gaze and skeptical head tilt should have been a clue, but she replied, “Sure,” and then she was reaching down for Olivia’s shoulders.
Olivia dug her fingers into her friend’s upper arms and made one attempt at pulling upwards.
“Fuck!” She wailed, releasing Amanda’s arms instantly.
“Nope. Not that way.” Amanda frowned.
“Do you want to try turning onto your side, and pushing up, and I’ll just hold one arm?”
Olivia closed her eyes for a moment and nodded once, before she started to turn onto her left shoulder. The lightning bolt of agony was instantaneous.
“Mm.” She hummed through tightly closed lips as she flopped the one inch back into a reclined position. She couldn’t even shift a minuscule amount without triggering the muscles.
“Do you have any meds, any painkillers?” Amanda asked, glancing towards her bathroom.
“Not since the car accident. The doctor didn’t prescribe much with how opioids are being monitored, and I finished them the first week.” She exhaled in frustration.
“Shit, Liv. I don’t know. Let’s try one more time. I’m going to put an arm behind your head and try to lift so you don’t have to exert as much, okay?” She positioned herself behind Olivia and slid her arm under her neck and around her shoulders.
“Ready?” Amanda asked tentatively.
“Mhm.” Olivia already knew it wasn’t going to work, but she bit her lip and started to lift her chest as Amanda braced her upper back.
The muscles spasmed in protest and she saw stars.
“Shit! Fuck! What the fuck?”
“Liv, I think you need someone who can pick you up. At least then you could get comfortable in bed and not sleep on the floor tonight. Maybe it’ll be better in the morning?” Amanda placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Did you call Stabler yet?”
Olivia’s eyes which were closed in pain flew open and met Amanda’s concerned gaze.
“No. Absolutely not. Not him. He doesn’t get to swoop in here and rescue me.” She shook her head in defiance.
“I know you don’t want his help, but at least you know he’d have more success than I am. He probably would jump at the opportunity to be of service.” As she said it, her lips curled up knowingly.
“Amanda. Don’t even - don’t give me that look. Elliot is busy. He’s probably undercover somewhere drinking bourbon and playing pool with dudes in leather vests.” She closed her eyes again and heard Amanda snort.
“That’s quite a visual, Liv. Been thinking about that much?”
“Amanda!”
“Sorry. Well, do you want me to just call an ambulance then? They’d have the gear to move you.”
“Oh God, an ambulance. The poor neighbors would die. They already seem wary of me because of my job, I don’t want the drama of EMTs here. And that seems like overkill anyway. It’s just a strain. Can you get me a pillow and a blanket? I can sleep here tonight. Can you close the window too?”
That time Amanda laughed loudly.
“That is absurd. I’m not leaving you here on the floor, but I will close the window. I was going to ask why it’s so freezing in here.” She stood and walked to the window, sliding in closed.
“Alright, Liv. Please don’t hate me, but I’m going to call Stabler.” She started scrolling through her contacts, and Olivia opened her mouth to protest but barely got the words out.
“Amanda, no, I’m fine. Look, I’ll just-” and she went to roll to her other side as Amanda answered, and she hollered out simultaneously.
“Hey, Stabler.”
“OW, FUCK!”
“Stop trying to move, Olivia.” There was a pause as Elliot asked her what was happening.
“Yeah, she’s alright, but she threw her back out. I tried to help her stand up but it’s not working.”
Silence again.
“Yeah, she’s on the living room floor.”
Pause.
“I think someone just needs to pick her up and move her off the floor, at least for the night. But you know her, she's stubborn about accepting help.”
Olivia growled. “Damnit, Amanda.”
“Mhm. She didn’t like that I just said that.” Amanda glanced at her and raised her shoulders and her one free hand in a mock apology.
Silence.
“Good. We’ll see you soon.” Amanda hung up and returned to her side.
“You’ll thank me later when you’re comfortable in your bed with a heating pad and a mug of tea.” She smiled sympathetically.
“I know. It’s just - it’s so sad that I don’t have anyone else. Even after all this time.” She exhaled, trying to wrangle the frustration that was brewing in her stomach. The idea of seeing Elliot for the first time in months was appealing, but the context left something to be desired.
“Oh, Liv.” Amanda patted her shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think any of the men you dated in the last decade would be strong enough to lift you anyway.”
That coaxed a laugh from Olivia, which devolved into a whine of discomfort as she tried to keep her rising and falling chest from triggering the spasm again.
“Can I get you anything while we wait?” Amanda stood and looked around the room. “Do you want a pillow?”
Olivia waved a hand at her.
“No, no. I’m fine. I’m sorry for dragging you here.”
“That’s alright. At least it gave us a reason to catch up.”
“Did we catch up?”
“Oh, no I guess not. Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
So they did. Over the next hour as they waited for Elliot to arrive, Olivia filled her in on her current cases, and Amanda told her about the kids and some highlights from teaching.
As Amanda was describing the monotony of grading papers, the intercom near the front door buzzed.
“He’s checking if I want to let Elliot upstairs.” Olivia was suddenly very aware of what she was wearing. The white button down pajamas she had changed into right before she tweaked her back were light, and the fabric was thin. She didn’t have a bra on, and it was still chilly in the apartment.
She threw an arm over her chest as Amanda confirmed Elliot was supposed to be there.
It was less than a minute and Elliot was knocking on the door. Amanda opened it and they whispered hurriedly to each other, before he approached.
In her peripheral vision she saw him stop and tower over her, legs splayed out in a wide stance, something large clutched in one hand.
“Sorry it took so long, I brought some supplies.” He dropped a bag on the floor with a thud, and she realized that she couldn’t stare up at the ceiling all night. She turned her head slightly towards his looming figure.
He looked good.
It pissed her off how good he looked. He was in fitted jeans, and a snug black henley. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple days, but somehow it was working for him.
He looked rugged and solid and huge. Meanwhile, here she was in her pajamas, sprawled out on the floor like an old lady with a bad hip - which she also had.
Fuck.
Had his neck gotten bigger? She wondered.
“Supplies?” She asked, glancing at the black duffle bag next to him.
“Yeah, I wasn’t sure what you had here, so I brought some stuff that might be helpful.” He unzipped the bag and started pulling things out.
“Okay, I’m going to head out. I left the kids with the seventeen-year-old neighbor, and if you don’t need me I really should get back to relieve her.” Amanda peered over Elliot’s shoulder and met Olivia’s panicked gaze.
“Wait, no.” She hadn’t thought this far ahead to the fact that Amanda would leave once he arrived.
“What if I have to use the bathroom?” She hissed.
Amanda smiled big, and she heard Elliot snort through his nose.
“I’m glad this is so funny to you, Elliot.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.
He cleared his throat, “I promise, I’ll cover my eyes.”
“Do you need to use the bathroom now?” Amanda asked, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“No.” Olivia turned and looked back up at the ceiling. She wasn’t going to beg, and it would be selfish to keep Amanda here if she wasn’t really needed.
“Thank you for coming.” She sighed.
“Sorry I couldn’t do more, Liv.” She smiled softly and Olivia nodded and made her best attempt at a genuine smile back.
Inside she was flailing. How did this turn into a sitcom so quickly? And not even a good sitcom, it was a bad one.
The door shut behind Amanda, and they were alone.
“So, first things first. Take this,” He held out a large white pill.
“What is it?” She took it reluctantly from the palm of his hand.
“Muscle relaxer.” He pulled out a bottle of water, and a straw which he proceeded to strip the paper from before unscrewing the water and placing the straw in the bottle.
“I’m going to prop you up so you can take a sip.” He scooted close to her and the arm she still had thrown across her chest to conceal her breasts tightened.
“I’m putting my hand under your head, okay?” He was hovering over her now, his eyes studying her, the tendons in his neck tense.
“Alright.” She took a breath and leaned away from him as he slid his hand under her shoulder blades, winding his arm all the way under her until his fingertips were gripping her bicep on the other side.
She dropped the pill into her mouth as he positioned the bottle of water over her chest.
“One… two… three.” He lifted up and she parted her lips to take the straw in between them, her eyes screwed shut as the muscles in her back twisted.
“There ya go, good,” he whispered as she got just enough to swallow the huge pill, before letting out a distressed groan.
“Did you hurt your chest when you fell?” Elliot asked as he lowered her shoulders back to the floor.
“I didn’t fall.” She mumbled.
“Why are you hugging yourself like that?” He tapped a finger on the elbow that was pressed tight to her ribs.
She could see out of the corner of her eye that he was looking at her curiously.
“Just cold, I guess.” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she said it, because she knew how dumb it sounded.
“Uh huh, right.” He took something out of the duffle bag and stood. “I’m going to plug this in.”
She listened to the sound of his footsteps circling the room, before he returned to pull an orange extension cord from the bag.
“You really thought of it all, huh?” She would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly impressed, which frustrated her to no end, because she didn’t want to be in awe of his forethought.
“What part of your back is it?” He bent down next to her and the sympathy she saw in his eyes was evident, he was feeling for her.
“Lower or middle, I think.” She shifted her hips slightly triggering the pain. “Lower. It’s lower.”
She glanced at him and observed the furrow of his brow and the compassionate look in his eyes. Her desire to pull him down on top of her and feel the crushing weight of his granite-like body against her, and also drive a knee up and into his gut to hear the wind get knocked out of him was a confusing dichotomy.
“I’m going to move you. Do you want to be on the couch, or in bed?” His question was direct, clinical almost, and she realized she wasn’t sure.
“Couch is closer.” She moved her eyes to their right, where the couch sat, only a few paces away.
“It is.” He concurred.
“Couch for now.”
He stepped to the couch and set the heat pad in a spot that would align with her lower back, and he returned to her side.
“Alright, well. This isn’t going to feel good, but I’ll make it as quick as possible.”
His blue eyes held her nervous gaze, and she was sure he saw the anxiety there because he dropped a hand to her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.
“It’ll hurt for a second, but it’ll pass. Once the meds kick in you’ll be a happy camper.”
“Alright. Just get it over with.”
He leaned over her, the v of his hard chest inches from her face. A light patch of silver chest hair was barely visible.
She closed her eyes against the sight before her, lest she have feelings she didn’t want to have. As he knelt down and slid an arm behind her shoulders she winced and bit the inside of her cheek. Sight was not necessary to know how close he was to her now, she could feel his breath on her jaw, and she could smell the soap on his skin.
“I’m going to put my other arm under your knees, and then I’m going to lift you. Ready?”
She hummed in response because she was too busy clenching her jaw in anticipation of the shooting pain that was about to be unleashed.
“Here we go.”
Then he moved surprisingly quick. Her shoulders left the floor first, and her arm instinctively reached around his neck and gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly. She began to bend her legs, creating space behind her knees that his arm filled immediately, then she was floating. She chewed on her lip to stifle the curses that had flowed so freely when it was Amanda there, but she didn’t want Elliot to see that weakness.
The metallic taste of blood hit her tongue as he lowered her onto the couch over the hot pack, and she released the hold her teeth had on the delicate skin inside her mouth.
She couldn’t help the pathetic whimper that escaped out of her as her hips and her back met the couch cushions.
“Sorry.” He mumbled as he pulled his arms out from under her.
“S’okay.” She pressed her lips together and sucked in air through her nose.
“Can I get you anything? Water? Wine?” He extended a hand and brushed a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her face and was stuck to her mouth.
Her stomach fluttered, but she just huffed out a laugh at his suggestion. “Is that safe with the meds you gave me?”
She turned her head to look at him. He was squatting next to the couch, one hand resting on the cushion underneath her, the other bent, the elbow propped up on his knee.
“I mean, a doctor wouldn’t recommend it, but first hand I can tell you that it won’t kill you. It’ll just make you extra relaxed.” His voice dropped a few octaves as he said the last word, and she shivered.
As he stood, she remembered the absence of a bra underneath her thin white pajamas. She raised her forearm again to lay it against her chest.
His eyes shifted down, and then back to her face, then he smiled.
It was a wide, cocky, teenage-boy-on-a-first-date, grin. If she hadn’t been afraid of tweaking her back she would have tried to reach out and slap him.
He was chuckling softly, and her annoyance flared up.
“Oh, are you worried I’m going to see your nipples?” He stood and moved the water and bottle of pills to the coffee table.
“No. Jesus, Elliot.” Out of stubbornness and a refusal to admit he was right, she let her arm fall back to her side, and she winced internally.
“This is so stupid.” She griped.
And embarrassing. And awkward. And painful.
He was quiet for a few moments as he shuffled around, and she felt her body reacting to the chill and she shivered again. There was no hiding the peaks of her erect nipples as she sat slightly propped up against the pillows. Covering herself up with her forearm again would just be an admission that he was right.
She was nearly sixty-years-old damnit, and a fucking NYPD captain. She refused to let him know that she would hide something so trivial.
He spotted a blanket folded up on an armchair and shook it open, draping it over her legs and hips before letting it drop.
“I didn’t bring everything.” He pointed to the blanket.
“Thank you.” She pulled the tasseled fringe of the blanket up further. “I didn’t even think you were going to answer the phone.”
He sank down into the cushions by her feet and leaned back, extending one arm over the top of the couch.
“Why is that?” He was studying her, and she felt even more exposed than before.
“Thought you’d be undercover again.”
“I told you I’d let you know before I go under again.” He said matter-of-factly.
“Mhm.” It was tempting to believe him, he was awfully convincing, but she still had no reason to trust that he would keep his word.
After all, what were they really to each other? Old colleagues that used to be a little too close? If he had no trouble leaving her then after everything they’d been through, why would he hesitate now?
Even with these thoughts spiraling, she was starting to feel calmer, less concerned about her predicament; less concerned about him seeing her in white pajamas or about his presence there as her saviour.
“When did you need the muscle relaxers?” She asked.
“One of my many workplace injuries.” He brushed it off and looked around like he remembered something.
“Where’s Noah?”
“Sleepover at a friend’s. It’s a long weekend, did you know that?”
“I did - I did know that.” He was smiling. “Any big plans?”
”Not anymore.” She murmured. “I cancelled my date.”
His eyebrows shot up in an unspoken question.
“Kidding.” She rolled her eyes. It was too easy to get a reaction from him.
Her mind was moving slower, and she had a question but she lost it before she could wrangle the words.
“How are you feeling?” He patted her foot under the blanket and she peered back at him, trying to decide how best to answer that.
“I’m feeling old, and pathetic.” She took a breath, “But my back isn’t hurting as much, so I think that pill is working.”
“Okay, well that’s something.” He patted the blanket where her foot was again, but this time he left it there. “You aren’t pathetic, and I wouldn’t call you old either. And if you are old, you’re pretty hot for an old lady.” He grinned and heat rushed to her neck.
“Thanks? I think.” She mumbled through a shy smile.
Abruptly the thought she had been trying to nail down occurred to her.
“Whatever I say tonight is off the record.”
Elliot was trying not to laugh, his lips pressed in a tight line, and something about it annoyed her.
“What record?” He asked.
She waved her hand in a circle through the air.
“The record of this evening. None of this leaves my apartment.” She tried to sound firm, tried to give him her best leadership voice.
“You got it, Captain.” His bright blue eyes were sparkling like he knew something she didn’t. But she did know, she knew exactly what he was thinking.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m not that messed up from one pill.”
She saw his expression change abruptly and realized he was picturing the same thing that she was: him stumbling, blindingly intoxicated on whatever drug the Albanians had slipped him, her trying to hold him up as he fell to his knees and tried to cup the side of her face.
But, she didn’t think he remembered all of that. He claimed he had very little recollection of most of the night.
“You know I’m sorry about that, right?” He was gazing intently at her. “About showing up… like that.” He scratched at the stubble on his chin.
“Yeah. I guess you’re making up for it now.” She replied, as she knocked her foot under the blanket into his hand.
She reached a hand underneath her and frowned in discomfort, he was beside her in an instant.
“What are you trying to do, Liv?”
“Just want to move the pad up a little bit more.”
He slid an arm under her shoulders and lifted her just enough to reach the edge of the heat pad before jerking it firmly up an inch.
“Ahhh.” The sound that left her mouth was breathy and high-pitched, and she felt Elliot’s fingers tighten against her shoulder.
She pressed her lips together and hummed instead as he lowered her back down.
“Sorry.” He whispered.
He was quiet for a few minutes, maybe because her eyes were closed again and he was waiting to see if she was sleeping. When she opened them he was looking at her thoughtfully.
“This seems like a good time for you to tell me something.” He dropped his hand to her foot again.
“Tell you something?” Her brain was a little foggy and she wasn’t sure what he meant.
“Tell me about something that happened to you in the ten years I was gone.” He smiled encouragingly at her.
“Oh, I think now is the worst time. My judgement is compromised and I’ll say too much, or say the wrong thing.” She slung an arm over her eyes. “Nope. Nothing to say about that decade.”
“What would you consider the wrong thing to say?” He was leading her.
“I know what you’re doing, Detective.” She replied without moving the shield of her arm from over her eyes. “It’s not going to work.”
He sighed loudly. “Well you can’t say I didn’t try.”
“There were other times you could have tried. Why now?” The question sounded more charged with emotion than she intended.
“Because, now, we are alone in your apartment, and have nothing to do but talk. So why not?”
Damnit. He was right, she thought.
“Okay. Fine.” She flipped through the rolodex of memories, some pleasant, some horrific, and selfishly settled on one that she knew would rile him up. She knew it was immature to punish him for something he’d already apologized for, but the hurt revolving around his abandonment still lingered, deep and raw.
She told herself it was the painkiller he’d given her, it removed her filter.
“Remember how I told you I almost married someone named Ed.” She took her arm away, she wanted to see his face when she said this next part.
“Yes, I remember. You told me he passed away.”
“Right.” She rolled her lips, dragging her teeth over the bottom one as she tried to hold it together. For some reason she felt like laughing, which was wildly inappropriate in so many ways.
“Well, that was Ed Tucker.” He was silent for a beat like he was trying to absorb what she had said.
“Tucker? IAB Tucker?” He was looking at her incredulously.
“I think that medication was stronger than I realized.” He dragged a hand down his face. “That’s just not possible. We hated Ed Tucker.”
“We did. But several years after you left, things changed. We grew closer and became friends, then eventually more than friends.” She met Elliot’s piercing stare, and saw disbelief in his eyes.
“I just - I can’t wrap my head around that.” He blinked a few times. Olivia noticed his chest was turning red and it was creeping up his neck. He was trying to suppress his anger because he didn’t want to discourage her from sharing.
She was somewhat taken aback by his self control. The Elliot from back in the day would have leapt from his seat like he’d been stuck with a hot poker.
“He was a good person. He cared for Noah and I.” She twisted the knife a little bit more.
Elliot rubbed his nose and shifted his position, leaning forward like he was going to stand, then thought better of it and stilled.
“He was there when Noah was a baby?” Elliot was trying to put the whole picture together.
“He was there.” She replied.
What he said next made her stomach sink.
“I wish I had been there.” His gaze was downcast, features etched in shame. “I would have loved to watch you become a mother.” He was cracking his knuckles and staring intently at the floor.
“I know, El.” She didn’t want the burden of ten lost years weighing on them, and she realized her mistake. She needed to change the subject.
“Okay, your turn.” She knocked her foot into his leg, jogging him from his self-punishment. “Tell me something about Italy, preferably relating to food or wine.”
He shook his head fervently. She had started it and apparently now she would have to finish it.
“It’s still your turn. Tell me more. What happened? Why didn’t you marry… Tucker?” The disdain was evident in his tone but she ignored it, because she understood that the version of Tucker he knew was different from the one that she knew.
She took a breath, pulling her thoughts together.
“Tucker wanted to retire. Well, he wanted to retire and have me retire with him. He wanted me to stop working and just… live a life without the job together.”
“I see.” His voice was quiet.
“Yeah. I ended it. He moved on, married someone else.” She closed her eyes and shook her head back and forth. “That would have been good for him, if it had just ended there. But-” she faltered, and Elliot noticed.
“It’s fine, we don’t have to-”
“He got brain cancer, and then he killed himself.” She finished.
“Oh. Jesus.” He ran a hand over his bald head, his eyes were wide. “I’m so fucking sorry, Liv. That is…”
“Yeah.” She agreed.
She had thought about this moment numerous times. She imagined telling Elliot about the one man who almost had a permanent place in her life, but even with the intimacy of a sexual relationship, what she had with Ed couldn’t hold a candle to the depth of her love for Elliot. That was confirmed for her when she let Ed go, even though she knew it meant she may never find anyone else.
They were both quiet for a while until she broke the silence.
“Is my turn over?”
“Yeah, yeah. What did you want to know? Something about wine or food in Italy?”
She nodded in confirmation, and watched him recline all the way back into the couch and place a hand behind his head.
“Wine. There was a lot of it, everywhere. Wine with lunch, wine with dinner, at home, at cafes, and it was cheap. You could get a carafe of house wine for a few bucks, and it was good too; and the food? Oh my God, Liv, the pasta. I’d give anything to watch you eat a plate of pasta from my favorite osteria…” His voice trailed off as his words settled in the air, heavy with insinuation.
“Are you offering to pay my way to Italy, Stabler?”
“Well, I don’t know about that. You are the one with the Captain’s salary.” He flashed her a smile and the flutter in her belly was undeniable.
She wasn't sure what was happening, but she realized she didn’t care, and that was extremely liberating.
The magic of pharmaceuticals, she mused.
“What kind of pasta was it? I want more details.” She listened, completely relaxed and immersed in his words as he described various dishes, each one more delicious sounding than the last.
Her eyelids began to grow heavy as he was telling her about the specific regional pasta of southern Italy.
“They call it Orecchiete, which translates to tiny ears, and that’s exactly what it looks like.”
“Hm. How did you eat that much pasta and come back more jacked than when you left?” She let her eyes fall shut.
“Was that… a compliment?” He scoffed.
Even with her eyes closed, she could hear the smile in his words.
“Ask me another time.” She muttered.
If he said anything after that, she didn’t hear it.
—
She wasn’t sure how long she was asleep, but when she awoke it was noticeably darker in the apartment. Elliot had turned off most of the lights, and he was no longer seated by her feet. Her stomach sank as she concluded that he probably left after she fell asleep.
The heat pack was still underneath her, and she wiggled her hips a little to test her back. It objected, but not nearly to the same degree as before. It wasn’t a bring-you-to-your-knees lightning bolt of pain, but more of a deep, dull, ache.
She wanted the comfort and safety of her bed, so she made another attempt at moving, this time onto her left side so she was angled towards the edge of the couch.
She was pleased to find that it hurt when she turned, but not enough to stop her from moving. She braced herself on the palm of her right hand and pushed up, holding her breath as the twinge in her lower back signaled its displeasure, but then she was sitting upright. She smiled to herself at the progress she had been able to make - surely thanks to Elliot no doubt - and she remained ramrod straight as she let the soles of her feel fall to the floor.
As she slowly stood, she ignored the ache, because she desperately wanted to lay down in her bed. Somehow she remembered the heating pad, and carefully unplugged it from the extension cord, tucking it under her arm.
It took her at least three times as long as it normally would to reach her bedroom, moving with carefully measured steps, tiny and deliberate, aware of every piece of furniture and area rug as she eased through the darkened apartment and towards her open bedroom door.
Her bladder was screaming, and she made a pit stop at the bathroom, praying internally that she didn’t get stuck on the toilet. Luckily she didn’t, and she was shuffling again towards the promised land of her big, fluffy, exquisite bed, when she reached the doorway.
Her knees almost gave out. Elliot had not left her alone to return to his place in Queens, he was there, laying on top of her duvet, like a fucking bald Goldilocks.
Apparently her bed was just right.
He had shed his jeans - how polite - and was wearing dark briefs. He still had his shirt on. His muscular legs were stretched out straight before him, meaty quads fused in the shape of upside down triangles at his knees. Defined calves curving gracefully down to his crossed ankles. His arms were folded over his chest.
She was baffled, and her first thought after she assessed his posture and his relaxed expression, was how she wished he’d taken the shirt off too.
“Would you like me to leave?” His thick, sleep-tinged voice cut through the silence so suddenly that she startled and her hand shot out to grab the molding of the doorway.
“Jesus.” She hissed through gritted teeth.
“You’re walking, that’s good.” He was groggy with sleep, his words slightly slurred. “Sorry I surprised you. My old-man-neck can’t handle sleeping upright in a chair anymore, and I didn’t want to wake you by moving you. I can go.” He unfolded his arms in anticipation of climbing off the bed, but her defenses crumbled.
“No, no. It’s okay.” She released the doorframe and took a step forward. “Can you actually help me get into bed?”
She took a couple more steps towards him, but he was already up and moving, eyes half closed, and arms outstretched. It made her chest ache with something she hadn’t felt in a long time, a longing for that intimacy and closeness that comes with having a partner.
Her partner.
Elliot wound his arm around her, it caught on the heat pad and he took it in his hand. As they began walking again, she realized he must have known which side was hers by the stuff on the nightstand. Out of respect for her space, he picked the opposite side to lay on.
He pulled the covers back, laying the heating pad down, and squatting on his knees to duck under the nightstand and find the outlet.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, and he helped her recline back so her head was on the pillow. Her back spasmed a little, but the moment her head met the pillow she exhaled in relief.
“Have you taken another muscle relaxer since the one I gave you?” He pulled the blanket up over her.
“No, I haven’t.” She remembered the bottle was on the coffee table.
“I’ll grab one.” He marched off and was back after a few seconds, handing her the pill and the water.
His eyes were more open now, and even in the blue-black darkness of the room she could see him watching her with that same intense gaze that he wore thirteen years ago when she’d catch him looking at her from across her desk, or from the driver’s seat of their borrowed NYPD sedan, or from the opposite side of the interrogation room.
It was too much, and the ache in her chest felt like it was going to crack wide open.
“What happened to your pants?” She pivoted.
“I thought it would be gross to wear jeans in your bed.” He mumbled.
“You weren’t in my bed, you were on my bed.”
“Touché.” He walked around to where his things were folded neatly. “I thought it would be kind of an invasion to get all the way under the covers.” He started to gather his belongings.
“El,” She knew how insane it was going to sound, but she said it anyway.
“You don’t have to leave. Just go back to sleep. It’ll be morning soon anyways.” She realized that wasn’t even close to true as she glanced at the bedside clock and saw it read 12:37 AM, but she didn’t want him to walk out of her apartment. Not yet.
“I’m fine with you even sleeping under the duvet if you’d prefer. But that’s totally up to you.”
The sound of his jeans and belt landing back on the wooden side table was answer enough. The sag of the mattress that followed was further confirmation. The sheets and the blanket rustled as he adjusted himself next to her and she turned her head slightly so she could see him.
“Thanks for taking care of me tonight.” She whispered into the dark.
He didn’t answer with words, but the heavy blanket lifted up, and his hand found her bicep. She could feel the heat from his palm through the fabric of her pajamas, and she closed her eyes once again, wishing she were just a little bit braver, or a little more reckless.
—
She awoke feeling very warm.
The heat pad was still turned on underneath her, but it was more than that. Elliot was close, very close. As she came back to consciousness, she realized that she hadn’t moved an inch, but at some point during the night he had closed the distance between them.
She blinked her eyes open, and looked down at him.
The length of his body was flush with her side, but lower on the bed, resulting in his face being pressed to her upper arm. One of his hands was resting on her hip, the other was tucked snugly in between them.
The contact didn’t feel inappropriate, it felt comforting. It was a closeness she hadn’t experienced in years.
He looked peaceful, breathing steadily into her shirt. With each exhale she felt the warmth of his breath filtering through the fabric and caressing her skin. It made her heart race and her breathing turned shallow.
If she stayed there much longer, she might do something less than appropriate.
She peeked over at the clock and saw it was 5:25 AM. She needed to decide if she was mobile enough to go into SVU. It was the Friday before a long weekend, and she had left so much work undone on her desk. The idea of losing an entire day was terrifying.
She decided she would try and get up and go through her normal routine, at least to see if her back would tolerate that.
Carefully so as not to disturb Elliot, she reluctantly began to turn away from the warm cocoon he created under the covers. Her back still ached as she rolled onto her side, but it was a very specific, isolated ache, not the savage sweeping pain that wrapped around her whole back and left her breathless.
As she began to slide her legs towards the edge of the bed, Elliot’s hand settled on her lower spine.
“How’s your back?” He mumbled.
She froze.
“It’s alright. Still sore, but I can move.”
“Here?” He pressed his thumb and pointer finger into the muscles on either side of her spine.
“I - um,” she stuttered.
“Is this okay?” He mumbled. She knew he meant, is it okay that I’m doing this, but she sucked in air with a hiss and melted back onto the mattress as she answered, “higher.”
“Right or left?” He asked.
“Left.” She sighed as his knuckle began to rotate in slow circles.
“Here?” He asked again.
“Mhmmm.” She couldn’t answer him with words. It hurt and felt extraordinary at the same time as he dug into the source of her discomfort.
His hands were even stronger than they looked. He didn’t take a break for at least thirty minutes, probably longer, as he worked the spot on her lower back with his thumb, and his knuckles.
When he used his thumb, he wrapped the other fingers around and they sank into the meat of her waist. She couldn’t even believe how much she liked that; the sensation of his entire palm covering her, his thick finger making slow, deliberate circles over and over, her entire body was vibrating as her brain fired all kinds of signals simultaneously.
Flee. Stay. More. Harder. Softer.
She wanted him to dance his fingertips across the skin of her back and make her shiver.
Was she really letting this happen? She knew if she told him to stop, he would without hesitation. Instead she whispered, “Will you draw lightly on my back too?”
He moved his fingertips to her shoulder blades, and ghosted his short nails down the length of her back, then spiraled them along her side and up her spine again.
Goosebumps erupted across her skin.
“Mm.” She hummed softly.
He continued, alternating between kneading the tense muscle in her lower back and grazing with his fingertips. She was so relaxed, so completely blissed-out, her brain flooded with endorphins, she almost cried with joy when his hand lifted the hem of her pajama shirt and made direct contact with her skin.
“Mm.” She vocalized again because she knew he wanted to make sure it was alright, that what he was doing was to her liking.
The dull tips of his nails dragged close to her rib cage, and she raised her arm slightly, creating space which he noticed right away, and did the same motion across her ribs.
She shivered and she knew he could feel the raised bumps on her skin.
“Liv?” His voice was gravelly.
“Yes?” His hand paused at her waist to rub her lower back and she acted without hesitating, settling her hand on top of his and intertwining their fingers.
“Do you have a spare toothbrush?” He whispered.
The bark of laughter that tore from her throat was almost as satisfying as the ministrations on her lower back, almost.
“Bottom right drawer of the vanity.”
His hand slid away, then the mattress creaked and the covers lifted, and he was out of the bed lumbering towards her bathroom.
What was happening? She was so at ease and relaxed from the massage that she had no desire to move from that spot, in fact, she wanted him to come back and do more.
She knew he was going to brush his teeth because he didn’t want to offend her with his morning breath, and she probably should do the same, but she didn’t give a fuck. If he wanted to be this close to her, then he was going to have to deal with all of it.
A pang of lust hit her hard in her center, followed promptly by a rush of anxiety.
It’s possible he was just brushing his teeth and leaving her to get ready for work. He probably wasn’t going to pick now to take this any further, considering her tweaked back. It was just going to be a continuation of their infuriating dance; three steps forward and two steps back, with her always drawing the line and putting a stop to progress before it’s made.
The bathroom door opened and she heard his footfall return to the bedside.
She held her breath and waited.
“I guess,” his voice was low, guarded, “I should probably…”
Her eyes lifted open and she tilted her chin towards his voice, disappointment squeezed her heart.
“Don’t.” It was a meek attempt, barely audible. She wasn’t even sure if he heard her, but then he answered.
“What, Liv?” He was at the edge of the mattress, his hands on his hips, assessing the situation, waiting for her.
She swallowed, her throat so dry she thought the words might get stuck.
“Don’t go.”
A wave of relief crashed over her the moment the words left her lips, and she saw his body language change instantly. His hands dropped from his hips and he curled over the side of the bed, leaning forward onto his fists, and sliding back under the sheets beside her where he’d been only three minutes earlier.
The mattress dipped under him as he took the position of the big spoon and slung one solid arm over her middle and buried his nose in her hair, nuzzling closer as he took a slow breath.
She let her eyes slide closed again as his fingers ghosted imaginary shapes over her wrist and the inside of her arm.
Then his touch shifted to her belly, his palm flat and firm, holding her to him. She couldn’t help the shaky breath she released from her lungs, or the tingling that was beginning to spread from her core and out to her extremities. She couldn’t help it and she wanted it, desperately.
Was this what she was afraid of when he had been summoned to her home? It wasn’t that she didn’t want him there, it was that she wanted him so badly she didn’t know what that would lead to.
And then what? They finally let go and succumb to the decades long yearning and he disappears in a few weeks on another undercover?
“El?” She sounded like she was choking.
“Mhm?” He was muffled by her hair, but she didn’t need him to talk, she just needed him to listen.
“I can’t do this, if - if, you’re going to leave again.” She felt him still as the words continued to tumble out of her. “I can’t get closer to you, and risk losing you. I couldn’t - I can’t - do that again. It almost killed me the last time. I can’t-”
He removed the hand on her belly to shift her hair aside so she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. “Okay. You win.”
“That’s it?” She wanted to see his face.
“That’s it.” He agreed. “There is plenty for me to do with OCCB that doesn’t involve being a UC. You should know by now,” he let out a long ragged breath. “You’re the only thing I really want. The job is trivial compared to you.”
Olivia turned slowly until she was on her back and he propped himself up on an elbow to look down at her.
She was speechless, contemplating the darkness of his eyes when his hand returned to her stomach, and she knew exactly what was going to happen next.
He was waiting, and she was done waiting.
She reached across her body and grasped the back of his neck, pulling him down so their lips could meet, finally, in an urgent, hungry kiss.
The fingers resting on her belly flexed as their kiss deepened, pulling more of the thin fabric of her shirt - and the flesh of her body underneath - into his curling fist.
She parted her lips to take a breath, and he seized the opportunity, sliding his tongue in just enough to signal he was asking if she wanted to keep going. He tasted minty thanks to the impromptu tooth brushing, and she wasn’t complaining. She answered him by slipping her tongue into his mouth and he moaned, he fucking moaned, from just a kiss.
They continued sucking, licking and nipping at each other, relishing in the newness of exploring a part of their bodies that they’d never been able to enjoy before. She had to remind herself this was just the beginning as her head began to spin with desire.
Elliot’s hand was still holding tight to her shirt, clinging to it like a lifeline, or maybe to keep himself from tearing her apart. She could sense his control was waning by the movement of his upper body, which was rocking into her with every thrust of his tongue.
She broke the kiss, and turned her head to the side, offering up the tendons in her neck as he licked and nipped gently at the hammering pulse close to her jugular.
“God, you taste good, Liv.”
It was the first time he’d spoken in a while, and it sent chills through her, hardening her nipples and dampening the crotch of her pajama bottoms which were pinched in between her legs.
“Are you still afraid of me seeing your nipples?” He mumbled it against her ear lobe, and she could feel his lips curled up in a smile as his thumb swiped across one of the pebbled nubs.
The sensation sent a tremor of pleasure through her body.
“Take it off.” She whispered.
“What?” He was clearly taken aback by her serious response to his flippant question.
“The fucking shirt, Elliot.” Her shaking fingers found the top button of her shirt and started undoing it, but he caught up. He pushed her hand aside as he made quick work of the buttons, moving down until he exposed a long strip of golden skin from her sternum to her belly button.
Her chest and stomach were rising and falling rapidly with her breath as they both paused all other pursuits to focus on the gravity of where his hand was going next.
She watched his face closely as he lifted her shirt away, revealing the fullness of her left breast, and it was full; more than his hand could grasp as he went for it instantly, rolling it reverently in the palm of his hand and lifting to watch it spill over and through the gaps in between his fingers.
“So perfect.” He mumbled, as his thumb swiped over her nipple, and he watched it contract further, puckering to a darkened peak. He proceeded to flick delicately over it with his finger before leaning in and taking it into the damp heat of his mouth.
“Fuck.” She groaned. He was stimulating her just right, just how she wanted him to touch her, and every fiber of her being felt awake.
“Mm.” He moaned against her skin as his tongue swirled around her erect nipple before releasing it with a wet pop. His fingers returned again, and his eyes darted between her breast to the reactions on her face, clocking what she liked, and what she loved.
He must have realized he was neglecting the other breast, because he pulled her shirt the rest of the way back, exposing the entire expanse of her chest. His fingers brushed and tweaked, as his tongue and lips dropped back down to work her simultaneously.
When he grazed his teeth over her nipple, and she gasped, he squeezed the other side more firmly, and she groaned, the sound was guttural and feral. He chased her responses, adding more force to his grip and to his suck as she squirmed underneath his touch.
He was still reclined next to her, propped up on an elbow, and he started to shift. She watched him steadily as he slung a leg up and over, carefully settling back so as not to drop his weight down onto her.
“Is your back alright?” He paused hovering above her, a hand on either side of her shoulders, framing her in.
She had forgotten about her back.
“It’s fine. I don’t know. I’ll tell you if something hurts. But this heat pad has to go, I’m fucking boiling.” It was still underneath her, set to medium, and as her arousal climbed, so did her body temperature.
“I got it. Roll to your left.”
She obeyed and turned onto her hip as he reached underneath her, yanking the pad out and tossing it to the floor.
“Thank you.” She smiled up at him as he sat slowly back onto his haunches with his knees straddling her hips. His hands skated up her waist to her breasts, and he cradled one in each hand.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful.” He muttered, the starved look in his eyes was enough to increase the throbbing in between her legs.
She was so wet, the lightweight fabric of her drawstring pajamas doing little to contain it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this turned on, probably never. There was no one she had the same chemistry with. There was no one she had pined for like she had pined for Elliot; for twenty five years.
He increased the pressure of his fingers, lifting her breasts assertively and pushing them together like his hands were a fucking push-up bra. He bent over and flicked his tongue over her nipples before burying his nose in the dark crevice of her cleavage.
“Your tits are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen - aside from your face.” He chuckled like he couldn’t believe his luck.
“Elliot.” She sighed his name and he sat back up while continuing to fondle her tits as he sat astride her.
“I’ve waited so long to hear you say my name like that.” He gave her another firm squeeze before releasing her long enough to pull his shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere on the floor.
Her physical response to seeing him shirtless was immediate. Saliva began to accumulate in her mouth like it was preparing to take every inch of him inside of her. She swallowed and pulled him down by his forearms so she could skim her palms over his chest and over the ridges of his flexed shoulders.
“Jesus, Elliot. You look… big.” She finished lamely, and she laughed, which in turn made him laugh.
The laughter died on their lips when she pulled him further down to her until his mouth was pressed to hers once more. She sucked his lower lip in between her teeth and that’s when he lowered another fraction of an inch closer, and she felt him.
She really felt him. His cock was like a police baton wedged against the crease where her thigh met her groin.
Her hands instinctively flew to his hips, holding him there, as she released his mouth and met his gaze. She lifted her hips just enough to grind into him without making the pain in her back flare, it wasn’t much, but she saw it register on his face in the way his lids got heavier and his lips parted wider.
“I - I don’t want to hurt your back. I don’t know what to do.” His admission made her want him even more.
“Touch me.” It was almost a plea. The pulsing in her cunt so unbearable that the only thing that mattered was having his hands and his mouth on her.
He rocked his weight back and shifted so he was between her legs, then he pressed the insides of her thighs out, gradually widening the space. He ran a finger along the elastic of her pajamas and she nodded at him.
This was what she wanted.
He leaned over her supporting himself on his left palm, as he cupped her from the outside of her clothes, the dampness of her growing pleasure hit her skin and it was cold. His eyes grew wide at the feeling of her arousal seeping through to his fingers.
“Fuck, Liv. You-” he exhaled a heavy breath and smoothed the heel of his hand down the seam of her pants. “You are so wet already.”
“Stop teasing.” She whined. Even to her own ears it sounded high-pitched and needy, but he acted like it was the most amazing sound in the world.
He grinned big, all shiny white teeth in the dimness of the room, and he slid his hand under the hem of her pants, skimming her wetness once with his fingers before landing on her clit.
She gasped loudly.
“Holy fuck.” She whimpered.
“I haven’t done anything yet.” He growled as he began making small circles over the pulsing crown of nerves at her center.
It felt too good, he’d barely touched her and she could tell she was going to come soon, and it was going to be fast and hard.
He must have sensed she was right on the brink, and instead of dragging it out, he sunk two fingers all the way inside her, hooking and reaching forward, as the rough pad of his thumb continued to swipe messily over her clit.
“Let me see it, I want to watch.” His voice was deep and full of desire, and it was all she needed to push her over the edge.
“Oh, El - I’m -” Her legs began to quake as the climax rendered her speechless, tearing through her, white hot and seemingly limitless. Her eyes slammed shut, and her jaw dropped, one fist clutching the sheet underneath her and the other gripping his arm. She continued to shake, as her breath hitched in her chest and her shoulders lifted off the mattress.
“So pretty when you come, Liv.” He kissed her sternum and continued to caress her clit as he carried her over the cresting wave of pleasure, and back down the other side until she was still.
“Jesus.” She muttered. “I needed that.”
Her eyes opened to find his, and he was smiling at her, hooking his fingers under the elastic of her pants and dragging them down to her ankles in one motion.
“Still feeling okay?” He was talking to her, but his gaze was elsewhere, and she didn’t even know what he was referring to anymore.
“Yeah, great.”
“Your back?” He planted a soft kiss on her belly, on top of a two inch scar that sat several inches above her hip. He didn’t ask, and she didn’t tell, but she could see his eyes searching her, the question right there on the tip of his tongue.
“Not now.” She whispered.
He kissed the scar again and continued moving.
“My back; yes, I think laying down is good.”
He kissed across the swells of her breasts, where there were another three small round scars, but he didn’t pause, he just continued to press his lips and tongue to her skin like she was the most delicious treat in the world. He moved along her ribs and down the center of her stomach, over her belly button and all the way down until he reached the mound of her sex.
“Can I?” His gaze flicked up to her.
“Yes.” She sighed as he dragged two fingers through her wet folds, collecting the fluid from her orgasm and spreading it over her still-sensitive clit. He circled the tiny bud several times, watching her reaction as the heat began to rise in her face again, and her heart hammered in her chest.
He kissed the inside of her thigh as he continued to study her.
“What are you looking at?” She dragged her toe under the hem of his briefs.
He laughed at her question, pressing another kiss to her thigh.
“You, Olivia. I’m looking at you. You’re gorgeous.” He finally broke from his reverie and dipped his tongue inside her.
“So good.” He groaned against her cunt as flashes of light popped in her vision.
“So sweet. Just like I thought you’d be.” She blushed at the scandalous compliment, but he didn’t see because he was thrusting his tongue inside of her.
“El.” She moaned his name as he lapped and sucked at her most sensitive spots until she was groping her own tits just because she needed something solid to hold on to.
“El, I want you. Come here.” She reached futilely for him and he grunted.
“One more like this, you taste so good.” He sunk two fingers inside of her again, and returned his tongue to her clit. She thought she heard him mumble one more against her, but his words were muffled by her swollen sex.
Every time his knuckles were flush with her opening and his fingers were as deep inside her as they could go, her nerves fired and the sensation struck her in the chest and the top of her head, his thick digits felt like they might fuck right through her.
He struck a rhythm that made her cry out, and he didn’t let up, devouring her with his mouth and impaling her with his fingers until she crumbled around him for a second time, coming hot and sticky onto his still outstretched fingers.
She flung an arm over her eyes, she was overstimulated and needed a minute. Her entire body was humming and on fire.
She felt his fingers slide out of her and an orgasm aftershock jolted her.
She heard the rustling of the sheets, and the shift in the mattress as his weight moved to her side. He settled his hand on her chest, over her heart and left it there until she dropped her arm and reached for him.
Her hand gripped him, stiff and pulsing in his briefs, the only item of clothing either of them still had on. Her instincts were telling her to push him onto his back, tear his underwear off, and ride him until he was as senseless as she, but she already knew that would stress her back.
“Take them off.” She would have to settle for being bossy.
“You got it, Cap.” He threw her a crooked grin as he shimmied out of his underwear and tossed them off the bed. He settled back onto his side, propped up on one elbow, eagerly awaiting directions.
She didn’t want all of his weight on top of her, and she didn’t think that she could move the way she needed to if she was on top, so she rolled onto her side, and pressed her ass back into him.
“Yeah?” He bent over her and kissed her shoulder.
His hand was exploring between her legs before she answered, “Yes, I need to get off my back.”
He smoothed over the round curve of her ass, gripping one cheek and lifting it as he slid the head of his cock across her slick folds.
His lips ghosted her shoulder again, and she felt his chest rise and bump into her back as his fingers dipped into her from behind. She raised her top leg just slightly as he placed a leg in between hers, and the support of his thigh created just the right angle for him to guide the head of his erection into her. He waited then, and she was in awe of his restraint. Her cunt was drenched, and he hovered with just the tip of himself inside her, as he reached around and cupped her breast firmly.
He sank a little further.
With every press into her, she could feel her walls stretching to accommodate his girth. His breath was hot on her neck, and he was kissing her and praising her as he thrust the rest of the way, until he was buried up to the hilt.
“Jesus, Liv. You are so good. You feel…”
“Tell me.” She covered the hand which was clutched to her breast with her own.
He pulled out part way before plunging back in.
“You are better than I ever could have imagined. Better than anything, ever. You are everything, Liv.”
He kissed the shell of her ear just in time for the groan that tore from his chest to reverberate into her.
She hummed softly, a reaction to his words and the feeling of him.
“Are you alright? Does your back hurt?” He hugged her breast tighter as he slid out and thrust back in.
She could tell he was holding back, he was being gentle.
“I’m okay, El. This position feels good.” She tightened her cunt around his shaft and his breath hitched.
“Do it harder.” She urged.
He released the firm grip on her breast and held on tight to her hip as he began to steadily roll his hips back and forward to meet her. The sound of his skin slapping her ass with each thrust, and the wetness as their sexes joined together, were loud in the quiet of the early morning.
His fingers dug in deeper, holding on as he filled her over and over.
She could feel heat coiling low in her belly, and with each propel of his cock forward, the muscles of her core became more taut. He was going to fuck a third orgasm out of her. Her hand slipped down between her legs and began circling the already engorged cluster of nerves.
“Mm, are you going to come again?” His deep voice sent chills through her and goosebumps sprang up across her skin. He noticed the texture on her skin and dragged his tongue over her shoulder.
“I love giving you chills.” He whispered into her hair.
“Fuck, yes. Don’t stop.” She was panting now, and their combined movements were becoming more erratic and sloppy, and it felt so exquisite she never wanted it to end.
He was hitting that spot deep inside her that caused her cunt to clench even tighter and his mouth pressed to her ear, his breath coming in short bursts.
“Liv.”
“Tell me, El.”
“I’m going to stay. I’m going to stay.”
His hand at her hip suddenly slid around her torso, the bulging muscles of his bicep flexing as he pinned her own arm and hand that were still working her clit.
He hugged her tight, their bodies impossibly close, as he continued to draw his hips back and whip them forward.
He was hers now, and not just hypothetically in sprint, but he was really hers. Finally.
“Yes. Yes! Come with me - El - Fuck!” She cried out as she climaxed for a third time, cinching up tight around his cock as his hips stuttered and bucked into her and he moaned her name into the thick waves of her hair.
This orgasm was different, it was more leisurely to release and it came from deeper inside her. It was not sparks and stars and flames, but it was lava, hot, and thick, and slow.
Her whole body arched back into him, and this time she did feel it in her lower back, but she couldn’t do anything about it. The twinge in her muscles was just a whisper compared to the howl that was ripping through her.
She gradually slowed the vigorous swiping of her clit as her body shuddered and relaxed. Elliot was still cocooned in her walls, rocking ever so gently against her, almost as if it was muscle memory and his body was just continuing the motion even though they’d both come and he was now softening inside her.
“Liv…” His arm loosened and he stroked her bicep and her hip, his fingers danced over the meat of her ass, as they came back down to earth together.
Olivia waited for him to pull out of her and roll onto his back before she did the same, landing with her head in his armpit. They both gazed up at the ceiling of her bedroom, stunned and euphoric.
“I have to pee.” She whispered.
He chuckled and started to sit up.
“Do you want my help, or are you still afraid of me seeing too much?” He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose as she tried to think of a witty retort.
“I think if I was okay doing what we just did, I can make it to the toilet without your assistance.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slowly stood.
“I might need another massage though, before I get dressed.” She felt him watching her, and before she moved out of his reach, he was at the edge of the bed gripping her ass and burying his face into it.
He planted a wet kiss on her ass cheek and then rolled back and away.
“You got it, Cap. My fingers are ready for you.”