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The sunshine is warm on his chest and whatever he's lying on is softer than the shitty mattress he's been ruining his back with. Startled, blue and blinking eyes flash open at the realization that he's not home. He's not home and he should be and his name is Eddie, not Elliot.

Eddie Wagner would never be in an NYPD Captain's bed.

The white sheets fall off of his bare chest and pool at his waist. He's never been in this bedroom, never felt her sheets against his skin and he's never slept surrounded by her fragrance and God, the photo of the sweet boy on the end table will haunt him later today, he knows it. He shouldn't be here.

I need you to let me in.


"Morning, Sunshine."

That voice of hers is so ingrained in so many memories. So many mornings with sleep still in her throat and shared exhaustion from cases they gave too much to. He turns quickly to find her standing there at the foot of the bed, a mug braced at her lips, one eyebrow arched.

She takes a sip of her coffee, pulls the mug down, folds her free arm over her chest before she juts her chin out toward him. "What the hell happened last night?"

It all comes back to him, everything. The hot woman barely dressed and on his lap, the drinks, the laughter, the acceptance he'd been seeking for three months now. He plants one foot on the floor, wipes both hands down his face, scratching at his beard. "We were celebrating. A woman… she dosed me."

Olivia nods, processing what he's said. "You weren't paying attention?"

"'Course I was. I didn't have that much to drink and I kept an eye on it as often as I could." Olivia doesn't look appeased and she waits for him to continue. "With her mouth. She had drugs in her mouth and she—"

"She slipped it to you that way?" She nods slowly, chuckling. "Awesome," she mumbles sarcastically into the mug as she sips again.

"Is there coffee for me?" He motions toward her cup and she rolls her eyes in response.

"Go brush your teeth. Take a shower. I left some clothes and a towel on the sink."

"I should really go."

Olivia gives her head a shake. "Not today."

"I'm sorry what?"

"You're taking a sick day—"

"Undercover doesn't work like that."

"Sweetheart," she snorts, mocking him openly. "It does now." He climbs out of the bed, eyes searching for his shirt, completely ignoring her. "Look, either you do as I say or I'll make sure you're pulled from this assignment before close of business today. Do not mess with me. Do not force my hand. You will regret it."

She spins out of the room and is a flash of navy in her long pants and sweater. He watches until she's out of sight and though she's made her threats he looks for his phone anyway. Under the pillows, there's nothing but bed, nothing on the end tables so he pushes his luck and opens the first drawer on her dresser.

"I have the fucking phone!" he hears her yell from another room.

Of course. Of course, she wouldn't need to have eyes on him to just know…

His shower is quick and a little tortuous given that everything in her bathroom smells like her. He leans forward, lets water splash over his bald head, and squeezes his eyes shut. He wishes whatever drugs he was given had wiped his memory but he remembers everything down to the look of betrayal written across her beautiful features.

What would possess him to say it? Why would he tell on himself when she never would've known otherwise?

It's because he thinks, it's been harder to walk away lately. He'd heard her voice, seen her face, and collapsed in her arms more than once and he's no match for the magnetism between them, especially now. Not back then either if he's really honest with himself. It's why he left and took so long to come back. It took ten years and his late wife's encouragement to even come back to her.

Kathy had been his coach of sorts. "See," she'd whispered one night. "Liv's fine. She's successful. It was probably exactly what she needed. A chance to stop saving your ass so she could really grow. She probably got married and had a couple of kids. Isn't that what you wanted for her?"

He'd said yes because what else was there to say to a question like that? Coming from your wife? His reflection mocks him as he brushes his teeth knowing that he's spent the last twenty-three years lying to the two women who loved him most.

He grimaces when he pulls the t-shirt over his head. It's more of Liv's smell. He'll probably smell like her all day and that in and of itself will wreck him. He needs Eddie's clothes. The same damn shirt he's been wearing for two days straight, the pants he's probably worn for longer. Instead, he pulls on sweat pants too big to be hers and he walks barefooted into the front of the apartment.

She's pissed. He can't see her foot bobbing but can tell with the shake of her body that it's anger. Her apartment is bright and clean and he shouldn't be here. "Where are my clothes?"

"In the wash."

He nods, his back stiff, standing there awkwardly. He shoves his hands into the pockets of the pants he's borrowing and watches as she picks up a pair of eyeglasses and slowly unfolds them. She places them on her face, lets them hang low on her nose so she can look from him still standing there, down to the surface of the table.

She clears her throat, licks her lips, and they part.

"Dear Liv," she starts. "With the way this letter goes, you should've addressed me as Captain." She's joking, but he isn't stupid enough to laugh. He knows her far better than that.

"Can we not do this? Please?"

Her head falls to the side as she pretends to think about it. She smacks her lips and smiles gently. "No," she answers. "Dear Liv, the years we spent together will always be special to me." She has the letter right there on the kitchen table in front of her.

There's a cup of coffee and a chair pushed back waiting for him to sit directly opposite from her. Like a business meeting of sorts. Or maybe... maybe this is an interrogation?

"Is this a joke?"

"You go on to apologize," she says, ignoring him. "Or Kathy does," she adds, smirking.


"Not done," she bites. She skims down the page, her pointer finger looking for a specific spot. "Ah," she says. "You are always going to be special to me, but what we were to each other was never real. I see that now. So many years later, I realize that we got in the way of each other being who we needed to be. We got in the way of each other being where we needed to be. We did ourselves a disservice and I thought it was the best choice to bow out of your life to salvage whatever we both had left."

She's reading the fucking letter aloud and Kathy's words are being uttered back at him, smacking him directly in the face. It's deserved and so fucking callous of her, he's almost a little proud that she has this in her.

She continues, with very little emotion in her voice, "I wanted to give you a chance to have it all. To have your dreams come true." She pulls the glasses off of her head, rests them on the table. Her hands clasp together and she forces out a sigh to appear unaffected but he knows her too well. He sees the fear in her eyes before she goes on with her line of questioning. "Did you think you were a hindrance to me? That I was a hindrance to you?"

"She thought—"

"What did you think?" Olivia howls, baring her teeth at him. "Not Kathy. Not someone on the outside looking in. You. My partner." Her voice is trembling and her upper lip is thinning out and he knows she's on the brink of snapping.

He gulps and he thinks carefully of how he should respond. "I knew you wanted a family."


"You were never going to have one with me here, Liv."


Elliot shifts uncomfortably again, still standing there with his arms hanging at his sides. "Because of how we felt about each other," he answers weakly after a beat too long.

He watches silently as she processes what he's said. She nods, runs her teeth over her lower lip, and lifts her glasses again and he knows it's all for show. He remembers from last night that she knows exactly what's written on the pages in front of her. "If there's a man in your life, I hope he's the kind, faithful and devoted man you deserve…" she pauses again, swipes her tongue over her lips. "But in a parallel universe, it will always be you and I." She grins without enjoyment. Her nose is red like she's holding back tears, but she lets an unamused laugh tumble from her belly. "It's you and me, by the way. Grammatically."

"Is it?"

"A tip from Serena?" she offers dryly. "Take out the 'you and,'" she says with air quotes. "You'd never say it would always be I. You'd say it'd always be me. So it's you and me and not…" she rambles under her breath, pushes her hair out of her face before lifting her glasses to the top of her head.

She goes for her coffee again, drains the cup before she places it back onto the table.

"Daughter of an English professor," he mutters. It would be her to give him a fucking grammar lesson while holding him hostage. "Sucks for Noah," he chuckles nervously, looking around. "Is he at school? I don't even know what time it is. My phone?"

"I shut it off last night. Took out the sim."

He nods. "Look, I need to check my phone."

"Fuck your phone," she yells then, startling him. He goes quiet and listens to her breath, how it shudders, how evident it is that she's shaken. "Fuck this assignment," she adds. "And can you please stop standing over me like an idiot? Have a seat."

Elliot stands there for a few seconds more just looking at her before he's scrambling to sit across from her finally. They're usually on the same side of the table, on the same team, but this time it's very much Benson versus Stabler. His large hand rubs the back of his neck and adjusts his shoulders before he settles into the seat.

"What woman kissed you last night?" Olivia asks suddenly. "Who was able to get that close—"

He picks up the mug filled almost to the brim with black coffee and he takes a careful sip. "You know how it goes. We were partying… she was sent to show me a good time."

"And then what happened?"

"She kissed me. Soon as I realized what happened I got the fuck out of there." He raises the mug to her. "This is good."

Her eyes widen. At his audacity. She knows he's trying to keep this light, trying to calm her down without saying the words, but the man has a death wish. "Fuck you," she says because fuck being calm and politically correct when he and his wife have been toying with her heart.


"I thought you guys were happy," she jabs softly. "Evidently not."


"Just tell me why."

He sighs. "We would have the conversation every time we visited."

"Every time?" she whispers. "How many times were you here in Manhattan and never bothered to call?"

"My children are here, Liv."


"No matter how much time went by, she was still suspicious. She never believed I could let you go." He'd done what was expected of him. He left SVU, he left Olivia and he moved his family far, far away. He fulfilled his duties as a devoted husband, honored his wife, sacrificed for his partner and still, he came up short.

"So it was all about me?" she snaps. "You disappearing. No contact with Fin, Munch, or Cragen? Because of me?"

"Yeah, Liv." It is his instinct to protect Kathy. To preserve her image, no matter how much this all hurts. "When I left SVU, she asked about you. About us. About why we never spoke again."

"And you said?"

"I said nothing. At first, she was fine with that. Then… I don't know. I missed you. She could tell. I just… couldn't." Shame is written all over him. "I couldn't call you, Liv. I will never be strong enough to hear your voice, to see you, be near you and still be able to walk away."

Her eyes squint and she leans forward, barking back, "You couldn't talk to me? To me?"

"No, Liv. I couldn't. Then she figured it out. She knew why I couldn't and I told her she was wrong but she knew."

"She knew what?" He barely finishes speaking before she's demanding more and it makes him groan.

"That you meant more to me!" Finally, he cracks and his voice rises. "Then she said I did the right thing. I let you go so that you could live your life. You deserved that and I—"

"I deserved to be abandoned?" she asks tearfully.

He shakes his head. "I didn't abandon you."

"So what would you call it? You knew I only had you—"

"Yeah and that wasn't healthy for either of us. I was in the way of you. You deserved to be a mother and I had no right to stand in the way of that. You, more than anybody, deserve a family."

"You were my family." His family was her family. His wife, his children, him. Maybe that's why it hurt so much.

They sit with that for a moment. In silence. Her eyes are on the table and his eyes are on her.

"Liv," he begins, gentler than before. "How would you have felt?"


"If you were her? How would you have felt?" He demands softly. "Knowing?"

"If I were her I wouldn't have written anything like that." There's a piece of her that wonders if she were his wife and the mother of his children how she would've been able to cope knowing. "If I were her… if I were your wife…" Olivia sighs, darts her eyes down to the table where she plants both her hands. "If I was your wife and I knew that you loved another woman, I'd have let you go."

"Some people fight, Liv."

"Some people," she repeats. "And what? I don't?"

"Not for what you want. You never came to the house."

"So!" she bellows. "I think a hundred unanswered phone calls and texts made it very fucking clear—"

"I'm just saying at least I tried." He leans across the table, almost within arms reach but not quite. "There are two people in this relationship, Olivia. I was single for some time. Why did you never say anything?"

Her hand covers her chest and she mouths her question, unable to get her voice to work, the shock way too much to fight through. "Me?" she asks. "It was never my place," she rasps.

"How was I supposed to know how you felt? You never said a word. Never made a move. In fact, you kept repairing my marriage, saving my kids, keeping my family together every chance you got."

"Isn't that what you'd expect from a friend?"

"What are we talking about here, Olivia? Friend? When were we just friends? When?" he demands. "I thought I was doing what was best—

"For me? Or for your marriage?" she screams back. "For us? Or for you and Kathy? Why did you even write that last part?"

"Why do you think?"

"I think only a selfish asshole would write what you wrote to me. You had the option to not say anything at all. You had the option to just go! Again!"

"Give me my phone," he snaps, holding his hand out.

"You're not getting the phone!"

"You know what? Do what you need to do, Olivia." He's up on his feet now, standing but she remains seated, her eyes never wavering from him. "I'm so selfish? Kath's selfish. We're all horrible people, huh? How about you be selfish for once and get it all out so we can start again on an even playing field?"

"Fuck you, El—"

"You said that already!" He feels like a child. He feels like this is a decade ago and this woman is his partner and so damn infuriating and hot headed. And even as she sits in her seat and exerts no more energy than necessary, he wants to shake her. He wants to figure out how it takes so little energy to get him to a place where he's almost vibrating with anger. "We're never going to get anywhere if I'm always the only one who has to put all my cards out on the table. How am I supposed to know what you want, Olivia?"

She flinches slightly, swallows and she hides her eyes from him again. He thinks that maybe she finally understands but she says nothing at all and after a long moment of silence he deflates.

Why doesn't she get it? He left for her. So she could live her life and be happy away from him.

The problem between the two of them has always lied in him… and fuck her for not understanding that. "Call it in, Liv. Do what you have to do." He lifts his hands in surrender. "Just give me my phone and I'll go."

He looks around for it, on all the open surfaces surrounding them, and nothing. Not on the coffee table. Not on the counter. He walks to the kitchen and he starts pulling drawers open and he knows he's close when he hears her curse, hears her footsteps as they approach him.

He finds the phone in the drawer with the eating utensils and quickly turns the phone on. "Damnit, Liv. Where's the sim car—"

Her nails scratch at the back of his neck as she grabs his shirt yanking him backward with strength he's surprised to feel her use on him. He spins into her to grab her, to stop her, to see her. "What the fu—"

She's never been physical with him so he's never expected this.

He's never expected her to collide with him like this. He's never expected her to be the one to initiate this. She's usually so reserved with him, holds back and never ever touches him first.

But it's her. She's the one. She grabs his face and drags him toward her until he can taste the sweetness of her coffee.

Olivia's lips are full and soft and her teeth sting his lower lip as she pries his mouth open. She's kissing him, pushing him until his back hits the refrigerator. Magnets fall, papers, a tiny calendar, a grocery list and a test with Noah's name on it all float to the floor. His hands are grasping at the refrigerator as he attempts to find balance, physically and somewhere deep within. He's never been kissed like this and it is rattling him, igniting him, triggering him.

He'd just asked her to be selfish and this is what she is taking for herself.

He accepts her tongue, groans when she bites at his lips again, when her straight teeth scrape over his sensitive skin. Her breasts on his chest, her pelvis aligned with his, their bellies flushed, their thighs intertwined, he's never ever been this close to her and he hates it the second she decides to end the kiss. She looks up at him with red cheeks and hopeful eyes. "I'm being selfish and taking what I want," she announces as if it isn't clear. "So I'm gonna kiss you again and if you're not ready for that tell me now." Her eyes dart from his eyes to his lips and back again, and then she whispers good and her open mouth merges with his.

She enjoys the scratch of his beard under her nails and she uses her nails to keep him anchored to her. Light scratching on the back of his neck, down past the collar of his shirt spurs him on.

He's given her so much space to take, he thinks, it's only fair when he grasps her claws in his hand. He thinks he has every right when he plants both of her hands behind her on the counter and he uses his strength to give back, not to take. Finally, finally he's able to give things to her he's never been able to give before.

His time. His heart. His body.

The truth.

He keeps both of her wrists in one hand, behind her back and when she's no longer straining against his hold, when she begins whimpering into his mouth, when she's willingly submitting to him, he snatches his mouth off of hers.

Her chest heaves and her shirt has been pulled down. The top of her breasts are full and pushed together, red from the heat of her arousal. Her chin is pointed up, her jawline sharp, her lips parted and slowly, a smile grows on her lips. "You couldn't take a little scratching?"

"I can take whatever you wanna give me, Captain."

"So why am I suddenly being restrained?"

He rubs his lips over hers but doesn't kiss her. He tickles her with his beard, nuzzles her nose. "Because I gotta tell you that I'm really fucking sorry." He slips her hair behind her ears, looks down at her pretty face. "I'm so sorry."

"You should be," she cracks. She means it though. He should be sorry because she is. This whole thing with parallel universes has left her so fucking upside down she doesn't know which way is up. She wants to ask if they are here in this universe or have somehow jumped into the other one? "I googled it."


"Parallel universes. They collide and boom," she mutters. "Chaos. Catastrophe. Disorder." She chuckles softly. "Can't even believe you'd know anything about a parallel universe."

"I know things, Liv. Jesus," he mumbles, grinning.

"I bet you do," she whispers before she's straining against his hold again, pushing up to bite at his mouth. Playfully, she sinks her teeth into his bottom lip, uses her clasp on his lip to pull him down to a more comfortable height so that she can taste him again.

Even restrained, she has a hold on him. She wields all the power and she reminds him in the way that she kisses him. She licks at his tongue, pulls back, makes him chase her so that he releases her wrists just to grab her jaw.

She smiles briefly but keeps kissing him as her short nails scratch up his abdomen, tugging his shirt along.

Her palms are soft when she explores the hardness on his belly, his sides, her fingers dipping beyond the waistband of the sweatpants he's wearing. He isn't wearing underwear and it's probably why she can feel him flinching between them. "I know you have to go back."


"So can we just finish this conversation later?"

"Whatever you want."

"That's what I want. For a few hours, I just want to see what type of chaos happens when these universes finally collide."

The sun is still shining. It's bright in her home with all the curtains pulled back, with the blinds flipped open. He keeps his mouth on hers because it's what she wants. He keeps his hand out, pushes her bedroom door open as she slides her hands down his pants. One hand on his ass, the other turned upward, shoved down past the drawstring and cupping his balls. She massages them and grins when he whimpers. The kissing only stops when she decides to observe the pleasure written across his face as she fists his erection. She strokes him like that, standing at the edge of her bed. His skin is so soft over his hardness and it drags with the motion of her hand and she's amazed genuinely how he comes to life, grows until one hand isn't enough. She lowers his pants until she can see him, see the glans of his penis, wet already with arousal. "Sit down," she whispers.

She leaves her undershirt on but lets her pants and sweater fall to her feet. She pushes him back to his elbows, admiring the flex of his tight abs as she climbs on top of him. She uses the tip of him, slides it over herself, over her clitoris, through her folds, and back upward again. She teases herself, teases him before she's holding him steady so she can slowly ease him inside of her.

He's thick and hard and no matter how fast she wants to take him, she physically cannot. She gasps, licks her lips, and drags her eyes from his astonished face down to their bodies. Watching intently as she sinks down, she lets out a breath and a moan and when her eyes are back on his they're wet with tears.

"Liv." He'd love to tell her how wet she is, how tight, how perfect she is, but it's too much. He'd love to strip her down completely nude and really make love to her, but he's stuck. She is all but strangling him and typically he hates it when she smothers him, but this is in the best way. Her breasts are covered still, but they're in his face, not fitting in the palms of his hands and he can feel the hardness of her nipples under his touch. "You're perfect," he breathes.

It's so overwhelming, loving him for so long and finally getting to express that love physically. Even if he doesn't look like the man she'd fallen for, with his bushy beard and no hair on his head, it's him. It's him and this isn't a catastrophe at all. This isn't chaos. It's the calmest she's ever been, most at ease. Things align finally for once in her life and there's nothing else or no one else. No noise, no thoughts. No nagging, no notion or feeling of not being enough or deserving. He is the most earned thing she's ever got her hands on. Him and this moment.

He sits up, grasps her jaw in his hands, lets both of his thumbs brush over her trembling lips. She whispers something, I love you maybe, but it gets drowned in a moan when her hips rock forward. She pauses there before she does it again and the tears slip because in many ways this had been her greatest fear. That they'd finally do this and it would mean nothing just like he said. She'd let the fear chip at her confidence, let it sink and settle between them, the idea that he'd never love her in the way she loves him.

But she feels the love radiating from him. He grasps desperately at her hips, helps her rock, lifts his hips to meet hers and they move together perfectly.

Kathy was so right. Always, always, always so in sync.

He has one hand around her throat and she throws her head back as she takes more, takes him faster. She rides him until her thighs tremble, until her body grips around him, until she's shuddering, moaning, and mewling in the light of day. She stops suddenly, her eyebrows drawn and her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes lift open, big and brown and crowded with an intimacy he's never known with anyone else. Her shoulders bunch, the t-shirt and one lone bra strap, her tan freckled shoulder, her clavicle protruding, her jaw stretched open— Olivia coming is a beautiful sight. It's a wondrous sound. It's beyond this universe or the one parallel.

He wipes her tears this time. With the back of his finger, letting it slip over her cheeks, wiping her face clear of them until her body eases. He turns them easily, flips them until she's on her back.

He'd been willing to give her what she wanted. To show her rather than to tell her. To kiss her pain away, to bury himself in her body far enough, hard enough that she would know the depth of his sorrow. That she would know how much he regrets the way he's handled the love between them, but it's not enough. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and he's not surprised when she reaches up to kiss him, to silence him.

"I've always wanted you. It's always been you, Liv. You know that, right?" She attempts to blink them away this time, but her stubbornness is no match for the emotion between them. "Since the day we met, I knew then. Couldn't put a fucking name to it, but I knew you when I met you, Liv."

She doesn't want to hear this, not before he leaves her again, but his hips are thrusting and he's deep, deep inside of her, rendering her almost thoughtless and speechless. All she can register is his voice, the scratch of it still heavy from the yelling moments ago.

"Ring or no ring, I knew that when I found you I found a good thing." And that's not how the scripture goes at all. He who finds a wife finds a good thing.

His good thing should've been Kath and it never was.

It was always Liv.

He'd been in love with his wife. He'd been good in life. Content. Had four healthy children and a devoted wife and a career that brought in good money. A house, two cars, savings. He was comfortable.

His future had been written way before this beautiful mystery with this giant heart just shows up and shows him year after year what it's like to truly be one with someone.

She'd unwritten everything one smile at a time, one tear at a time, one laugh at a time. Every single time she's lied for him, covered for him, checked him. Yelled at him, left him, come back to him. She showed him that he never ever had to touch her or be inside of her, to live within her because she'd been doing it the whole time they were together. Fitting herself in his heart and his thoughts and somewhere far in his future. He knew it would always come down to this, to them.

He knew back then what it was. He knew and he denied it for the sake of his family but Olivia has always been the one. The one who settles his soul and fuck if that isn't a damn soul mate he knows nothing at all.

He wipes her tears and rocks into her until she stops crying and starts kissing him again. She starts clawing at him again, pulling at his beard, grabs the back of his neck and turns her lips to his ear. "Faster. Come for me. And stay."

He stills, deep inside of her. "Liv, you know I can't stay. I'm still under."

She adjusts underneath him just so that she can find her voice. "I mean when it's over. I need you to stay for me," she declares softly. It's a first. She never asks anything of anyone, especially not for herself. It isn't her style. "I need you to stay."

"I will."

"You will?"

"I promise, Liv. You have my word. When I come back it's for good."

"Okay," she whispers.

"But you know now, right?"

Knowing, she thinks. Knowledge is power, people say. The knowing had probably eaten Kathy alive. Killed her bit by bit until there was nothing at all left but a resentment so deep that would allow her to lie so blatantly.

Knowing had killed her, too.

Knowing that somewhere the love of her life was living without her, just as unfulfilled. Just as incomplete.

And for the first time, the knowing gives her life so she asks for more. "I know but I wanna hear it."

"I love you, Olivia," he says without hesitation. When his hips retreat this time, they don't come back and her eyes catch him sinking lower onto the bed until he's between her legs.

Midstroke he'd felt the urge to taste her and does so without asking. "I'm sorry," he whispers against her thigh. "Sorry," over her folds before his tongue dips between them. He laps at first, gathers them on his tongue, his tongue getting more purposeful with each stroke.

Her left hand is braced around his wrist, where he has her shirt gathered in his hand above her belly button and her right hand is spread wide over her open mouth. She lies there for him, legs spread wide for him as his tongue swirls and his beard scratches the sensitive skin between her thighs. It takes him lightly pinching her clitoris between his lips, his tongue lapping over it for her hips to jerk off of the bed. Her head is thrown back and her thighs tighten around his head as he lets loose on her. He's no longer tentative, no longer tasting. He wiggles his tongue until it fits inside of her, sucks on her clit until it's throbbing.

He feels it, hears it when she's close and so he goes a little further, dips a finger inside of her and she lifts her hips to meet him. He pumps his finger, curls, and sucks at the same time and this angle of her orgasm is just as incredible.

"I'm so sorry, Liv," he says again, and he'll keep saying it. As many times as she needs to hear it. He kisses her inner thighs again, trails kisses down her leg to her ankle before he rests it on his shoulder. He keeps it there, grabs her hips with both of his hands, pulling her underneath him and stretching her out for his taking. He gets deep this way, makes her toes flex and her back arch off of the bed.

She's done, barely even able to keep up. Her arms are stretched over her head, her thighs split wide open and she can only whimper in his ear as he thrusts. It's so physical, yet so intangible and beyond words. Their bodies just fit together and move so perfectly they almost fall into a trance every time their eyes meet. Skin smacking, groaning, the wet slide of him and her, unintelligible whispering, sighing, gasping. He growls her name and comes inside of her for the first time ever. And for the first time ever, he's never leaving.