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Rock into sand

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It takes Elliot a few moments to get back some semblance of control over his urges. It’s a challenge. The words ‘take me to bed’ — her words — keep reverberating through his mind. Along with images of what taking Olivia to bed would entail. So, yeah, it takes a few moments and a few deliberately unsexy thoughts.

Elliot wishes there was a way to transport them both instantaneously to her apartment — like in those fantasy and sci-fi stories Eli enjoys. Olivia is pressed so sweetly into him, with her cheek resting on his shoulder, that Elliot is loath to break this delicious bubble they found themselves in. But he has to sacrifice this current bliss for bliss of a different kind in their immediate future.

He kisses the back of her head, before taking a step away, and lightly squeezes her hand, their fingers still entwined. When Olivia looks at him, her gaze and her lips are soft and sensual, and Elliot has to fight the urge to kiss her again. God, the way she tastes, the way she kisses, the way she feels in his arms... He has no idea how he is going to survive making love to this woman, without combusting a few short minutes into the act. What Elliot does know is that he needs her spread out on a bed, writhing and moaning underneath him, as soon as humanly possible.

“Come on,” he tugs on her hand resolutely and leads them through the park to his car, thanking God that it’s parked not too far away.

Elliot loses a bit of his control once they reach the vehicle and he opens the front passenger door for Olivia. Before she can get inside, he tugs her back to him and kisses her again. She is a drug, and it seems, now that he’s had a taste, he can’t go long without a fix. Olivia slips into the seat as soon as their lips part and fixes him with a look that very obviously says ‘get your ass in the car and drive, now’. And although he gets the message loud and clear, Elliot can’t resist leaning over with a grin and giving her another quick kiss before following her silent order.

As he maneuvers the car through the streets of New York, something occurs to him.

“Liv, where is Noah?” Elliot hopes the kiddo is not at home and they won’t have to be quiet and careful. Not that he can’t be if he has to, but after that one little moan elicited by a wet kiss pressed to her neck, Elliot is obsessed with the idea of drawing out a whole range of similar sounds from Olivia.

“At a sleepover. My son is turning into quite the social butterfly. It’s one sleepover after another these last couple of months.”

He smiles wistfully, thinking about her little boy. The little boy he’s seen only twice in passing and knows so very little about. The little boy whose birth and first eight years of life he missed entirely. The little boy Olivia is not eager to introduce him to. All heartbreaking facts.

Elliot is afraid to ask about the father. Half a year ago, when Fin informed him that Liv had a son, Elliot couldn’t help but instantly hate the lucky bastard who shared a child with Olivia. Naturally, he wanted to know who the guy was, but he didn’t dare ask.

Now, Elliot is afraid to ask. After finding out about her ordeal with Lewis, he’s been replaying all their interactions in his head, analyzing all the little glimpses into Olivia’s life. And he doesn’t like the vague picture that is emerging. Elliot has a sense that, if he digs, he will find at least a dozen more reasons to feel like absolute scum of the earth for leaving her.

For instance, Elliot is starting to suspect that Olivia has been raising Noah on her own. And ‘on her own’ in Liv’s case would mean completely alone. No parents to help and support her, no siblings (Simon certainly didn’t count). No Elliot or his family around. And that thought is killing him.

However, now is not the time to dwell on his failures as a man and as a human being. Elliot throws a glance at Olivia to find her looking out the window pensively, her lower lip caught between her teeth. They are close to her place, so at the next traffic stop, he gently brushes his knuckles against her cheek, drawing her attention to him.

“If you changed you mind —”

She shakes her head before he can complete the thought. “No, not at all.”

Elliot is not fully convinced, however, and when they get out of the car in the parking lot under her building, he draws Olivia to him.

“Liv, are you sure about this?”

She regards him contemplatively for a moment.

“Elliot, do you want me?”

He has never wanted any other woman the way he wants the one who spent nearly thirteen years walking alongside him as his partner. The desire is almost debilitating now that the possibility of actually having her is on the table.

“You know I do. Can barely think about anything else. But I also want you to not regret it later. We can takes things slow, if —”

Olivia doesn’t let him finish. “Twenty three years is slow enough, don’t you think?” She cradles his cheek in the palm of her hand. “Stop worrying.”

“I love you,” he tells her again, needing Olivia to understand that this is serious for him, that this can’t be a one time thing.

She grabs the lapels of his suit jacket, bringing their lips to less than an inch from each other. “Then show me,” she commands breathily.

Elliot bridges the distance, kissing her deeply, letting his hands roam her back. He is only human after all.

He is forced to behave as they make their way to Olivia’s apartment. She points at the cameras, saying ‘let’s not give too much of a show to the security guy’. So Elliot keeps his tongue and hands to himself. Mostly. He still manages to steal a kiss or two in the elevator and in the hall outside her door.

When they finally get inside the apartment, Elliot barely allows Olivia to turn on the light and enter the code to disable her security system before he is on her.

The first thing Elliot does, as he plunders her mouth, is divest her of her blazer, carelessly dropping it on the floor. He runs his hands over the expanse of skin left exposed by the sleeveless dress, before bringing her arms up to wrap around his neck. The fabric is almost silky smooth beneath his palms, as they find their way to the small of her back. Loosening the reins on his hands, Elliot allows one to slide further down over the swell of her ass, while the other travels up to stop above the clasp of her bra.

“Where is the bedroom?” he asks, letting go of her lips to plant a series of soft kisses on her jaw. Moving down, Elliot experimentally sucks on the spot right near the faint line of the scar from the wound inflicted by Gitano.

“The second door to...” the rest of Olivia’s instruction is lost to her moan, as his tongue flickers against the soft skin of her neck, making goosebumps break out. Elliot groans in response. Between this erotic sound, the heady scent of her perfume, the curves of her body pressed into him and her fingernails lightly scratching the back of his head, Elliot is feeling increasingly drunk.

He really needs to get them horizontal. On a bed. Before he loses what’s left of his control and takes her right here on the floor.

Elliot drags his lips back to hers, peppering them with gentle kisses, as he begins to move them in the direction of what he surmises should be the bedroom. A few feet from their supposed destination, Olivia’s tongue slips inside his mouth and he spins them to pin her to a wall with his body. Elliot has just enough presence of mind to cushion her head with his hand.

His tongue chases hers back inside her mouth, as his leg slips between Olivia’s. They both moan when she rocks against his thigh. Before this can escalate, Elliot spins them around again, softening the kiss and resuming their trek towards the bedroom.

When they finally cross the threshold to the room, their lips disconnect with a faint pop. Olivia reaches out and flickers on the light. His eyes immediately land on the bed, and Elliot is beyond grateful to discover that this is indeed where this piece of furniture is located. The lamp she turned on is standing on the vanity table across from the bed. The light it casts is muted and warm. Just enough to see each other, but not enough to disturb the intimacy of the moment.

Elliot looks at the woman in his arms, overcome with utter disbelief at being allowed here, in her home, her bedroom, her sanctuary. At being allowed to hold her, kiss her, love her. Olivia is looking back at him. Indescribably beautiful — full lips parted and glistening, skin flushed — and heart-meltingly vulnerable. He thinks it must’ve hit her too — the enormity of the step they are about to take.

He is also suddenly very aware of the fact that he knows next to nothing about what that son of a bitch did to her. The words ‘torture’ and ‘sexual assault’ are specific enough to turn Elliot’s soul inside out, but too vague to ascertain what actions of his might inadvertently cause her distress. His fingers are still tangled in Olivia’s
hair at the back of her head, and he lightly caresses her scalp. Elliot doesn’t want to bring forth traumatic memories, but he needs her to know that she is in control.

“Liv, if at any time you want to stop, you just need to say the word. If something feels wrong or uncomfortable, just let me know.”

There is a stubborn glint in her eyes, before Olivia’s lips are on his again. She walks backward, pulling Elliot towards the bed with her, simultaneously removing his suit jacket. When they reach their destination, Olivia pivots them, and gives him a light push, forcing Elliot to sit on the mattress.

For a moment they regard each other: Olivia looking down at him, and Elliot gazing up at her, in supplication. He thinks it’s fitting — she is as close to the divine as he will ever get. Elliot is reminded of the time he came to Olivia high as a kite and fell to his knees before her after spilling the truth about that blasted letter. It was fitting back then as well.

The moment doesn’t last long, and soon he has a lap full of the woman, as Olivia straddles him and reattaches her mouth to his. Elliot’s left hand lands on her thigh and he nearly chokes when his fingers discover the lacy edge of the stocking, exposed by the skirt riding up, and what he thinks is a strap of a garter belt. Deciding that he needs to get Liv out of her dress ASAP, Elliot trails his palms up her back to the top of the garment, finds the metal tab of the zipper and slowly pulls it down. And then he toes off his shoes and finally lowers them to the bed, flipping her under him.

Olivia’s head falls back with a gasp when Elliot lands between her legs, and he can’t resist the mouthwatering column of her neck. She is delicious and he can’t get enough. At a certain point the neckline of the dress impedes his progress to her collarbones, so Elliot begins to tug it down. Something clearly goes wrong, however, because Liv tenses and covers his hand with her own, halting the downward slide of the fabric.

Elliot is instantly on alert. When he looks at her, she is clearly apprehensive.


“I…”, she swallows roughly, “You should know that I have scars.”

It takes him a few seconds to tame down the wave of rage that this tentative admission incited in him.

“Lewis?” he asks, although he knows, just knows, it’s him.


Olivia looks away, as if afraid of what she might find in his eyes. He wonders what exactly she thinks his reaction is going to be. Disgust? Disappointment? Both options are ridiculous.

Elliot caresses her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Look at me.” She complies. “You think a few scars will make me want you less?”

Liv swallows roughly again and breaks eye contact.

“Maybe not. But…” she trails off.

It’s heart-rendering this insecurity of hers.

“Olivia, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

That gets him an eye-roll in response.

“Let’s not get crazy,” she tells him with a little self-deprecating smirk.

“You accusing me of lying, captain?”

“Severely embellishing the truth, detective.” There is a little spark of merriment in Olivia’s brown orbs now.

“Well, clearly your truth radar is malfunctioning. Must be the side effect of a command position,” Elliot teases her gently. “I am serious, though.” He rocks his hips into her, and Olivia’s eyes slip close as she moans. The skirt of her dress is bunched up, but it is still in the way; even so, she can obviously feel how impossibly hard he is for her. “I have never wanted any woman the way I want you. You drive me wild, Olivia.” His voice is raspy. “No amount of scars can change that. Should I be worried about mine, though?” he adds with mock seriousness.

That elicits a soft chuckle from her and she looks at him fondly. “Haven’t you heard? Scars adorn men.”

“‘That your way of saying I am dashingly handsome?”

“You wish,” she scoffs but tugs his head down and kisses him tenderly. The weight of her hand disappears from his — an unspoken permission to drag her dress down.

When their lips part, Elliot contemplates how he wants to do this. He lets go of her dress and sits up between her legs. And, good God, she really is wearing a garter. He can see the edge of the sheer stockings and beige straps holding them. Elliot can’t help the growl that escapes his throat. He runs his hands up and down her inner thighs, feeling nylon and lace transition into silky smooth skin. This woman is going to be the death of him.

Elliot longs to pull the skirt of the dress up, to see what the straps are attached to and everything in between, but first things first. He looks back at her sweet face to find Olivia watching him.

“Show me,” he asks her. ‘Trust me’, he tries to communicate with his eyes.

She pulls the dress down to her waist, but he has yet to break eye contact with her. Elliot leans over to kiss her deeply one more time before sitting back up and looking down at her torso.

From an aesthetic point of view, she has nothing to worry about, he observes almost clinically. Whatever the wounds and the scars looked like years ago, they have since faded. Whoever was in charge of treatment did a good job. There is still skin discoloration and uneven surface, but in no way does it detract from her beauty. She is fucking gorgeous.

Aesthetics aside, it takes all the restraint he’s got, to not let the full force of his rage and grief show. Elliot is certain some of it is bleeding through, but he is trying, he is really trying for her sake. He recognizes cigarette burns, of course. Years in SVU made sure he can identify those at first glance. Elliot remembers Fin mentioning that she was “burned”. He didn’t quite understand it back then. But now he does as he looks at the handiwork of that psycho pyrographer.

Olivia must see him trying to decipher the origins of the longest scar in her stomach, because she says quietly, “Wire hanger. He heated it up on my stove…”

Elliot forces himself to remain outwardly calm. His eyes dart to the weirdly shaped scar beneath her right breast.

“Key to my old apartment.”

He looks at another scar.

“Blowtorch,” she offers.

Elliot definitely knows what he is going to be doing if he ends up in hell. He will be persuading the demons to let him have a go (or several hundred) at one fucker called Lewis. Elliot thinks he’ll need to find the bastard’s first name — might come in handy in case there is any confusion as to whom he wants to tear limb from limb.

He leans down and fastens his lips to the key-shaped scar. His tongue caresses the healed wound, and Liv’s hands fly to his shoulder and back. He moves to another scar on her stomach, giving it the same loving treatment. And another. Olivia’s fingers fasten onto his shirt. When Elliot switches his attention to the remnants of a wire hanger burn, painting its length with wet kisses, she is squirming and panting and moaning. And, Christ, he adores how responsive she is.

Olivia is still wearing a bra — beige with black lace, which complements her skin tone perfectly — and, when he is done with the scars on her stomach, he moves to the ones between and above the cups of her lingerie. After infusing all of them with his love, Elliot spies a round damaged tissue peeking from below the fabric near the side of her chest and, without thinking, he drags the bra strap and the cup down to kiss it.

But then, of course, he is presented with the view of her uncovered breast and with a groan his mouth closes over the tight bud of her nipple. Olivia arches off the bed with a long moan. Her hands move restlessly over his back, while her thighs and calves slide against his sides, high heels (that she still has on) lightly digging into his legs. Elliot is weirdly thankful for the imitation of a cold shower that the introduction to Liv’s scars provided, because otherwise he would’ve come from these sensations alone.

He slips his hand under her back and unfastens the bra for easier access. Olivia’s other nipple receives equal attention, before Elliot replaces his mouth on her breast with his hand and moves up to her collarbones, her arching neck and finally her lips.

“Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he tells her between sensual kisses, and Olivia, honest to God, whimpers into his mouth. At this rate she is going to be the death of him, Elliot is certain.

Olivia’s hands worm their way between their bodies to finish unbuttoning his shirt. He helps her and together they remove it quickly without breaking the erotic dance of their lips and tongues. But then her hands move to the belt buckle of his pants, and Elliot remembers that there is something he absolutely must do, before Liv’s fingers end up on his erection, speeding up the culmination of this encounter.

He sits up again, takes her hands off his pants and kisses them reverently, before moving them to lie on the bed cover at her sides. As Elliot grabs her dress to remove it, Olivia helpfully lifts up her bottom and then raises and folds her legs, so that he can drag the garment down. She removes her bra, which he left below her breasts with straps loosely looped around her elbows, while Elliot kisses her knees and rearranges her legs into their previous position. As a result he is perched between her thighs, eyes feasting on the delectable sight before him.

How this woman can doubt her otherworldly beauty and desirability is beyond him. The lingerie is a set, all beige with delicate black lace. Elliot knows it probably makes him, as Lizzie likes to say, “such a guy”, but he wants to keep the garter belt, the stockings and the stilettos on Olivia for a while.

Kathy never once wore a garter belt. In fact, he’s never seen one on any woman up close and personal. And it’s so fucking sexy, he is having trouble breathing. The high heels complete the picture. Kathy very rarely wore those. Only for special — public — events. She always grumbled about the pain, which took all the fun away, and quickly kicked them off at home. With Olivia, though, high heeled shoes were part of his fantasies for God knows how long.

So Elliot makes a split second decision and tears her pretty little panties in two places, which allows him to remove the strip of fabric (the very wet strip of fabric, he smugly notices) from under the garter belt without unhooking the straps. It also earns him a squeak, some spluttering, an indignant “Elliot!” and a slap on his forearm.

“They were in the way,” he informs her, not feeling even a little remorseful.

Before Liv can say anything else (and judging by the expression on her face, there is quite a bit she wants to say in response to that explanation), Elliot promptly silences her with his tongue in her mouth and a promise to buy her a hundred more panties.

He kisses his way down her neck, the center of her chest (with slight detour to her nipples), down her stomach, dipping his tongue into her navel, before finally arriving at his destination. The scent of her arousal makes him feel like he is high on drugs again. Elliot lifts and spreads her legs, and, Christ, Olivia is soaking wet. And absolutely fucking perfect.

When he takes her clit in his mouth, he thinks he might have found a new religion. This is heaven. Her taste, her scent, her grunts and moans, the feel of her garter belt beneath his arm as he pins her stomach to the mattress to limit her writhing movements, the nylon on her thigh as he holds her open, her hands fisting the bedspread, her heels digging into it... His tongue dips into her opening, and Olivia is whimpering again.

Elliot would love to make her come like this, but he desperately needs to be inside this woman. So with a few final flicks of his tongue to the left of her clit and a satisfied hum that have Olivia nearly flying off the bed, he lets go and quickly kisses his way back up to her mouth, letting her taste herself. Olivia releases the bed cover to run her hands over his back and arms, before sliding down and to the front of his body, finding his semi-unbuckled belt, finishing the job and opening the zipper of his pants.

“Off,” she murmurs between kisses as she pushes both his pants and his boxers down as far as she can. Leaving the cradle of her body seems like the worst punishment at the moment, so Elliot removes all his remaining clothes in record time before falling back into her intimate embrace. It will never get old — the feeling of the liquid heat between her legs, the brush of her erect nipples against his chest, the softness of her skin...

Olivia moves to take off her shoes but he stops her and asks, “Leave them on.” She regards Elliot for a couple of seconds before evidently deciding to humor him.

When Olivia’s hand slides between their bodies again and closes over his cock, he thinks he is gonna lose it.

“Jesus,” he grunts and closes her eyes. Elliot catches her wrist, tugging it away. When Olivia lets go and he opens his eyes, he realizes she is confused by his reaction. “Liv, I’m not gonna last. Not this first time with you. I want to be inside you when I come.”

Her eyes soften. “So come inside me,” she tells him, pulling Elliot’s head down for another kiss, lifting and spreading her legs in invitation.

He moves his hand to the apex of her thighs. Olivia is ready, Elliot knows that, but he lets his fingers run through her trimmed hair, over her folds and dips two digits into her channel. Olivia closes her eyes and gasps and moans, clutching at his back and shoulders. She feels amazing. Wet, hot, and so fucking tight. Elliot works his fingers in and out of her for a little while longer, to prepare her a bit more. He is not a small man, and the last thing he wants is to hurt her.

When Elliot finally lines up the tip of his cock with her opening, he quickly sends a silent prayer to God, for giving him this incredible gift of being with her like this. And then he pushes inside.

The feeling is indescribable and all he wants is to pull out and slam all the way in, but Olivia tenses a bit, her hand on the side of his stomach — a wordless appeal to wait. And so Elliot stills, lets her adjust to the intrusion. He kisses her cheeks and jaw as she gradually relaxes. When Olivia opens her eyes and looks at him, he smiles softly.


“Hey.” It’s quiet and almost shy, as if she suddenly can’t believe what she is doing and with whom. He gets the feeling.

“I love you,” he tells her again. It’s so easy now to say those words that he truly doesn’t understand why it was ever hard.

Olivia moves her hand from his stomach to his ass, pressing slightly, encouraging him to move, as she herself rocks forward. Elliot withdraws and pushes back in. She gasps, arching her back and closing her eyes. He can’t take his eyes off Olivia, as he moves inside of her. She is so very beautiful like this, chasing the most intimate kind of pleasure. Soon her gasps turn into moans, and he covers her mouth with his to catch them. Their kisses are sloppy in a decidedly erotic way.

In an embarrassingly short period of time Elliot is teetering on the brink. But he can feel that Liv is too. He hooks his right arm under her knee drawing her thigh closer to her chest, opening her up even more. This changes the angle and makes him slide even deeper. Elliot grunts at the sensation, barely able to delay his climax. But he doesn’t have to wait long, because it takes just a couple more jerks of his hips and Olivia is falling apart. Elliot has just a few seconds to enjoy the way she looks in the throes of an orgasm, before the contractions of her muscles around his cock push him over the edge and he lets his forehead fall onto the bedspread beside her head.

Elliot can barely move after he spills inside her. He doesn’t think he’s ever come this hard. He lets go of her leg and just lies on top of her, trying to catch his breath. Olivia is breathing heavily too, and Elliot knows he is probably (definitely) too heavy for her. As he prepares to move off, her chest starts to shake beneath him. Immediately concerned, he slips out of her and rises up, holding himself above Olivia on his elbows... only to realize that she is laughing.

“What’s funny?”

Her eyes are dancing as she looks at him.

“You know, there is one problem with sex in high heels.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I might accidentally poke a hole in your perfect butt,” she raises her leg and lightly presses the heel into the part of his body in question.

“Perfect butt, huh?”

“Would be a pain in the ass to explain the injury at Mercy.”

“Totally worth it. Occasionally.”


He can see that she is barely holding back laughter now.

“Yep. Every now and then.”

She looks at him for a few moments as her lips stretch into a smile that’s about forty percent wicked and sixty percent tender. “Okay.”


Olivia palms his cheeks. “Yeah, Elliot. Okay. To high heels and garter belts and every now and then.”

She kisses him, and Elliot thinks that for the first time he feels like he has finally started living his life.