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The Forgotten

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He knows where her letters are.

He isn’t afraid to go chasing after them the moment they reach the house.

At the back of his shoulder, Elliot can hear Olivia’s soft voice coaxing Noah into his pajamas. The kids are downstairs tonight, and Elliot has picked the room furthest from them all, the room on the top floor with thick walls and the most incredible view of the beach below.

He looks at Olivia now, at the way she fusses over her kid, the way she makes sure his own has enough food to last until it leaves for college, and it’s the small moments that are the most surreal these days. He loves her and he wants her and he longs to understand the whole of Olivia. He longs for all the sum of her parts that she herself cannot even find. More than anything, he just longs for her.

Every moment of every day.

Olivia’s gaze crosses the room to meet his and it’s like time stops around them. She sees the desire simmering outside of him, of course she does, Elliot’s will for her is nothing more than second skin at this point. But it’s the letters that he wants and that is what she sees, his wanting, and she shakes her head. No. Not now.

Yes now. He challenges, one eyebrow quirked up.


Yes, he mouths back, and somehow it’s like they’re back to fighting again, only this time there’s a playful warmth that washes through and splashes at their feet. Olivia’s eyes lighten up for a slither of a second until then they darken into something that nobody else should ever get to see. In that same moment her gaze rakes over his chest as if it was bare and she could see all of his scars. His chest thrusted out with each breath he stole from the lingering air that divided them and Elliot just watched. He watched carefully as her gaze journeyed downward. She stopped at the crotch of his jeans, and he felt the throb of his cock respond to her as if it had a mind of its own, as if it was loyal only to her and nobody else, which was true in the more quiet, shameful periods chafed to his marriage. He’ll never not want to fuck Olivia and that is the greater truth of it all.

But still, he thinks, flashing a smug grin that only she could elicit, there’s no way he’s getting his hands on those letters tonight.

He has never known a love like theirs before, this utter relinquishing of control that both excited and scared the shit out of him. If the world was pretty and Olivia told him to ruin it all, he would burn cities to ashes just to make her happy.


If she’s being honest with herself, she wanted to jump him on the beach before. She wanted him the second he cupped Noah’s tears and wrapped her little boy into his chest. When he poured his heart out underneath each star that lit up the eastern sky, when he kissed her with all the passion a man could find, as if his woman had said yes and not no.

Elliot asked her to marry him, tonight.

Just the sheer frenetic truth of it still makes her feel so light-headed she hardly knows herself anymore. There was Olivia before, and then there was of Olivia now, and even though she still said no. One is somehow more in love than the other ever was before.

Olivia wonders if her old self ever knew just how much more space there was to fill. It seems cliché of her to think she was ever half empty inside, and yet here they are, and there he is, and regardless of those battles she fired his way on the voyage here, Olivia feels stuffed with love in ways she never allowed herself to feel before.

She will never tell him this, but she wonders if he knew about the empty spaces when she allowed him to fill them.


They bid each kid goodnight and Elliot knows Noah enough to see him passing out the moment his mother kisses him goodnight. Eli seems preoccupied by the large headphones on his ears matching the game at bay and Elliot has no idea, no idea how he’s supposed to get past this.

He wants every last moment to linger on like a song that never ends. He wants this, every night for the rest of his life.

Elliot leads the way to the bedroom and feels her eyes scoring his ass the entire way. Given the long journey it takes to get here, they barely reach the bathroom door before he’s being pushed against the wall, his back close to shattering as she dives into him, her tongue placing its stake against his own.

Her hands roam around the crevices of his chest until they find a way to his jaw, and she kisses him hard and fast with a gnawing, relentless fucking want that makes his dick twitch against his jeans.

Elliot keeps his eyes open and notes how hungry she looks in her wanting.

Regardless of the pervasive, intense need for sleep that permeates his bones and is sure to do the same for her, there is no escaping this thing between them. It is a raw and ragged and deep animalistic need that is difficult to avoid, now that they have had one another.

He wonders if the smoldering sexual arousal that lives between them will ever truly die down at some point. When they first started fucking it was all about the release, for her. It was about making Elliot hers while not really giving much of herself in the process. It was fucking each other senseless and then arguing at the door. Rinse and repeat.

Elliot pulls her in to the bedroom and Olivia stumbles into him, she nudges him away gently to put a little distance between them. At the click of the door he hears it lock behind her. Eyes half-hooded with dark lidded ecstasy and fuck they will never change. She will never change. And he’ll stay this way because he's never known anything else, with her.

Olivia swallows, throat emitting a movement that happens in slow motion, suspended like the breath in his throat, the thoughts in his head. There’s two, maybe three minutes of nothing but silence filled between them.

An eternity passes where it is just her painted in a darkened room.

Outside, waves swell and crash and the balcony view does nothing to steal his attention from the globes living inside of her dark orbs. She looked as though she had been made for this moment with the added help of the moon. She looked like Olivia.

At some point, she blinks several times amidst the stretch of silence that follows the falling of her clothes. She strips for him as a silhouette to the moon and its a self-confidence that boulders on arrogance. He sees himself in her eyes so much these days. Being distinctly humble has no place here, no place inside of her. She is incredibly beautiful but she knows this, and the elegant shape of her body has very little to do with it.

Olivia tilts her head to the side, a slow smirk curling the corners of her mouth as she unleashes the strap of her bra. It kills him inside to watch her do it alone, and yet there's a playful light in her eye that stops him dead. Her arrogance turns him on.

He wants to drown inside of her. Wants to be dragged under, hauled into the dark and the light never to come back home again. She is where he lives now, where the oxygen coloring his lungs resides infinitely. Olivia raises an index finger and signals for his touch.

Elliot sways on his feet. Towards her, drawn in again like the tide was to the moon. He brushes a lofty strand of hair behind her face.

“So fucking beautiful.” He mutters.

Against him, Olivia laughs and shifts her head to the side, letting Elliot press his lips to her cheek. He finds her gaping up at the full moon above with her mouth ajar, in awe and they might as well be staring at the same thing.

“I had no idea.” she whispers.

He nuzzles her neck, fingers sifting into her unbound hair. He suspects this woman is lying to him. “That your perfect?” He shakes his head at the sheer fucking insanity of it.

Olivia scoffs. “No, you fool.”

He grins.

“No idea..” she croaks, and his smile fades. “No idea that loving you this way could be so easy.”

Elliot blinks.

“I don’t like belonging to anybody, Elliot.” she carries on, “But sometimes I do think I was made for you.”

Elliot is distantly aware of who they are and what they are and where they belong, in one another’s arms. Yet in a way he completely loses his sense of self to her and he doesn’t know how to be human anymore. Olivia’s words needle their way through his scarred skin, searing into his bones like all the ink that never really did.

He can tell by the way her affection lingers that she knows where he belongs, too. Where he always belonged.


Moments later, Olivia moans his name as he moves inside of her, stretching her walls to accommodate the sheer, visceral size of him. He’s big inside of her, she come to learn and her body is still ye tot adjust to the fact. She looks down with bated breath trapped into her lungs as he moves deeper, fuller. Need blossoms in her even as she feels torn apart by the sharp size of him that requires all the space she cannot possibly give but gives to him anyway.

When he pulls out to adjust, Olivia whines like a crazed feral animal, thrashing her head with begging sounds so foreign even to her own ears.

Splayed across the bed, Olivia pulls him in with her knees wrapped around his hips and there’s no warning, no warning at all when Elliot uses that moment to surge into her, her mouth falling unhinged as she cries and he shifts her hips off the bedsheets, filling her in wildly, completely, so feral he could probably break her back if he wanted to.

He is inside of her, moving and thrusting and it feels like he is trying to make them one whole body.

The palms of his hands hold her hips and she keeps her heels clutching his back, tightly, bandaged around him. He fucks her like this, fighting the pull of gravity as he holds on through sheer will just to anchor Olivia against him. Her arms tangle around his neck, clutching for dear life. She trusts that he won’t drop her against the bedsheets beneath them, she trusts.

“So good,” she pants into his mouth, burrowing her face into his neck. His hips slam into hers, so hard and fast that her ass slams into the bedspread each moment before he chooses to defy gravity again, arching her back up and into him.

She doesn’t know who he is anymore. He is an animal inside of her, untamed at the best of times. Wild and debauched and free and yes, she thinks, fucking yes. She’s found her match.


“I know.” He pants.

Elliot groans as he thrusts and thrusts and the sheer visceral pleasure of it all ripples through her like a tornado. The man was a liability. A problem, her problem, because never ever could she put an end to this.

Olivia had to forget about it just to walk away from him, the first time.


His sense of belonging is deeply rooted in the breathy moans she makes as he brands her hips, brands her body and soul until all men ever see when they gawk at her inordinate beauty is his name. His fucking name.

You are mine.

Elliot lays her back down onto the bedspread.

It doesn’t stop him from pressing himself further into her, sinking them both into the bedspread so deep its bones might as well crack from the pressure. The forced weight of him on top of her must be painful but she doesn’t seem to care.

“Don’t you dare hold back on me.” She demands.

"Slow baby.."

“I’m not gonna break, please..” her eyes remind him of wild animals as she hauls him deeper inside of her, urging him on.

She is impatient and she wants more and he’s going to fucking break her if he crosses another boundary. Elliot begins to grind his hips against hers. Olivia’s breathy moans turn into needy whines and he hisses out loud at the way her fingernails stab red holes into his back.

She gives as much as he takes, and he has taken a lot.

Her fingers dance along the scars of his allegiance as he makes love to her. Elliot makes love like she is gospel, like the monsters are at their door and everything is burning, and the only real truth is in this, the way they fuck.

“I wanna live inside of you.” He rumbles.

“Yea.” She whispers into his ear.


Elliot flips them onto his back and Olivia drags his body so that he is pressed against the headboard. Her eyes are molten black holes against the half-light of dusk and all he sees in her dark orbs are places he doesn’t know the name of anymore.

Moon and sun. Stars and sky. Olivia, Olivia.

Elliot palms her breasts as she begins to ride him. Mine he thinks, as her breasts bounce and she holds onto the headboard, moaning incoherent translations of his name. Mine.

“Baby” she moans

“Don’t come” she orders

“I love you.” She says.

She’s never said the last one before, not in bed, not while he buries himself into her core and starts out a devastating rhythm that has them both panting for air beyond reach. He feels himself thicken even more inside of her and wonders if he is hurting her.

She cries and he has his answer and she cries, but Olivia refuses to stop on top of him.

It’s a blissful agony ridden out by the way Olivia’s expert hips rise and grind. She is holding him so close that he can almost hear the racing pulse of life surmount the erotic sound of their wild thrusts.

His own hips drive and there’s nowhere for him to go but upwards, surging into her, pounding into her, stretching through the tight heat of her until his cock burns and even then, he finds a way to fill the open space left behind, inside of her.

Olivia’s neck tilts backwards unto the ceiling, holding onto his head as her breasts heaved before him. A portrait of pleasure ripples through her face and he holds onto the image, and the uncontrollable whimpers echoing the roof of her mouth.

Olivia grinds her clit against him in an agonizing rhythm and he presses his mouth to her breast, tasting sweet salt of his and hers. Olivia’s skin is a grounding current, and she urges his face in between her breasts, a crush of elastic wielding flesh scraping against his bared teeth.

“Mark me.” She demands, breathily.

He does. 


The climax is a shock to her skin; assuredly warm and sending tingling sensations all the way to her curling feet. It resonates across the surface of the atmosphere as she collapses onto her back. She collapses and it resonates, and she collapses. Suddenly he is there with her, following her, pumping into, the muscles along his thighs jerking violently as he empties himself inside again and again and -- his eyes swallow her whole sometimes. Lost in the growing crescendo of white hot heat and he can’t stop staring at her, even as the winds of orgasm threaten to blunder them both. He can’t stop staring at her.

She wonders amidst the rich warmth of his seed rippling through her if he will ever stop being this way, if she will ever know of anything other than Elliot losing complete restraint as he fucks her senseless. He’ll apologize later, he always does, even when he clearly doesn’t need to.

His stamina has always been impressive but at times it feels overpowering, she comes and he comes and she watches awestruck at the madness they both share, at the way his hips pound into her and her nails drag along his back. His entire being is wrapped in utter servitude to her body and maybe, she thinks, as he releases into her and his arms quake above her head.

They were made for one another after all.

Elliot crawls along to bury his face inside the pocket of her neck. “I love you.” He breathes.

She can tell by the way he nudges his nose into her skin that he doesn’t expect anything back from her. Just her arms tangled around his.

“I love you.” She tells him.