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spellbound, intoxicated

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Elliot closes the door quietly behind him. It’s late. The apartment is dark, and he is sure Olivia has gone to bed, but when he turns around he sees that she has fallen asleep on the couch. He stops, admiring her from across the room. He is spellbound; intoxicated by the sight of her. My God, she’s beautiful, he thinks, and it nearly takes his breath away.  

She lays on her back, one leg bent at the knee and resting against the back of the couch; one arm curled over her torso just beneath her breasts, the other resting at her side. Her long chestnut hair is fanned out on the pillow beneath her head and her lips are parted just enough to allow her to breathe deeply and easily. 

Olivia is all soft edges, delicate and unbreakable; the ultimate paradigm.  

Elliot thinks about what it means for her to be here now. A childhood fraught with physical and emotional abuse, more questions than answers, and the ache of loneliness. A job that often leaves her exhausted; the tireless pursuit of justice for victims and survivors is her passion, so much more than just a paycheck, and she has built her life around it.

Trauma is the seemingly constant companion of Olivia’s work, and while she is relentless in moving forward, she does not overlook the recovery process. No, she digs deep, sinks her teeth in, holds her breath, bears the weight, and somehow manages to come out on the other side even more radiant than before. She is endlessly patient, wholly compassionate, and firm in her convictions. He knows better than anyone that she is unshakably loyal.

Olivia is nothing short of exceptional, even as she sleeps.

He thinks about kissing her, too. About her soft lips upon his, about the noise she makes when he moves from her mouth to just beneath her ear, and the way his knees go weak when she tells him she wants him. He relishes the way her body feels against his, silky, smooth, and warm. He thinks about calling her Captain; about taking her to bed and making her come with his fingers, with his mouth, with him buried deep inside her. 

He adores the ways she loves him, and he swears every day to do better, be better, be enough for her. Elliot is eternally grateful that he has somehow been given a second chance to love her and he promises to never again take this opportunity for granted.

She stirs, drowsily opening her eyes to see him standing there. “You’re home,” she smiles. 

“Yeah, I’m home,” he whispers. “Let’s go to bed.”

He helps her up, follows her to the bedroom; he’d follow her anywhere. They undress and settle together under the covers, holding on to each other in the dark. 

“Love you,” she sighs, content. 

“I love you, Olivia.”

Elliot brushes the back of his fingers against her cheek, pulls her close, and kisses her softly before she drifts back to sleep.