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Elliot's gotten so good at this. He wasn't bad the first time, he just hadn't known her body and she was slower to warm up these days. It had been so long since she'd had a steady sexual partner -- any sexual partner, even she barely remembered what worked for her if it didn't vibrate and put most flesh-and-blood men to shame in size.

But now, just a few weeks in, it's like he knows her better than she knows herself, like he enjoys this just as much if not more than she enjoys it. He happily sighs every time he settles his face between her thighs. It's almost a routine, even if there's never anything routine about what follows. He kisses his way down her body, teasing her with his tongue and teeth until he's where he wants to be the most. He slips her underwear off and down her legs and takes a deep breath in through his nose, a hum of contentment rumbling in the still air.

She never knows what will come next though, not with any certainty. Sometimes, he takes his time, teasing every centimeter of her pussy, driving her to the point of begging him to just focus. She curses him for not having hair for her to pull and tug him to where she needs him. But sometimes, like now, this moment, he eats her out like he's been wandering the desert and she's an oasis, his only means of survival in a barren wasteland.

"Oh fuck." She moans shakily as he thrusts his tongue inside her, his thumb set against her clit, rubbing her to the same rhythm as he licked. Her hands curl into the fitted sheet as she pushes back against his face, trying to get him deeper, wanting to hurdle over the edge as fast as possible.

He presses down on one of her thighs, hindering her movement and opening her up even more to him even as his mouth leaves her pussy to press soft kisses along her lower stomach and the crease of her hip. Sucking little rosy marks into the paler skin of her upper legs, meandering his way around her body as she becomes increasingly desperate for him to just make her come.

"El, come on," she says, trying to nudge his face back to where she wants him, needs him.

He looks up at her, not able to keep the smirk from his lips as he asks, "What?"

She rolls her eyes. "You know what."

"Mmm." He kisses near where his hand is still holding her leg out to the side. "Maybe, but I'd hate to get it wrong, Captain. Better just tell me."

She growls at him, hating that her title on his tongue makes her even wetter, and aggravated that he knows it too and uses it to his advantage whenever he can. "Use that smart mouth of yours and make me come, Detective."

The smirk drops, there's a flare of heat in his eyes. He bends to his task licking, and sucking, and using his teeth to ratchet her higher and higher, and then his fingers are in her, curling and putting pressure just where she needs it to shatter her. She has no idea how loud she is, she doesn't care. All she cares about is the lightning in her veins, shivering through her body until she has to shove him away when it all becomes too much.

He has the softest smile on his face when he moves to hover over her, his hands planted firmly at her shoulders, hips pressed into the cradle of her thighs. She smells herself heady in the surrounding air, and the sight of her arousal shiny on his lips and chin makes her pussy flutter and clench, aching to be filled by him.

Curling her hand around his neck, she drags him down to her, licking the musky, sweet-salt taste from his mouth, savoring the proof of her own pleasure. She moans in satisfaction, trailing her free hand down his side, curving it around his ass, pulling him closer so she can tilt her hips and brush her sensitive clit over and over the hard ridge of his cock until the pressure builds in her chest.

She tears her mouth from his, panting against his neck. "Fuck me," she says breathlessly, still writhing against him. "Now."

They've done this too many times for her to count now, but every single time he sinks into her he groans like she punched him in the gut, long and growling. She can feel it rumble through her where their stomachs touch, the soul-deep satisfaction that just being inside her makes him feel. He fucks into her slowly, inch by inch as she adjusts to him, moving with him until he's fully sheathed within, and then he pauses, breathing heavily and brushing quick kisses against her lips.

"I'm starting to think you like me bossing you around," she says, her voice choked in her throat.

He barks out a laugh, one that pushes him just a little more firmly against her, pushing his weight into her still sensitive clit. She shivers. "Starting to think that are you?"

He pulls away far enough to grin down at her. A broad, happy, almost effervescent and burdenless grin that belongs to someone that hasn't even seen a fraction of what they have in life. He still has a goofy smile when he starts fucking her again, a steady rocking motion that makes her toes curl as she wraps her legs around his hips, her heels coming to rest in the bend of his knees, bracing herself just enough to meet his thrusts.

It's a calmer, steadier climb this time. She lets him lead, fully trusting him to bring her along. Reveling in the feel of him, the stretch of her body as it envelops his, the weight of him, the smell of sex, her perfume and his deodorant and how all of it encompasses the fantasies she never thought would be her reality. It's intoxicating in a way sex has never been before, and never will be with anyone else.

It doesn't matter how many times they've done this or how many times they will in the future, it will always be almost too much.

It's Elliot and her and that they now compose a them in the choreography of their bodies and melody of their moans.

When he pushes his hand between their bodies, pressing his fingertips to her clit starting a heavy rhythm, she knows he's close. She sinks her fingernails into his sweat-slick back, places her lips right next to his ear. "Harder," she says, firmly, lifting her own hips to punctuate the command. "Faster."

He fucks into her hard enough and fast enough that she's breathless with it,. She can't help the loud whimpers and moans that sound from deep in her chest, sorry for the neighbors, but not sorry enough to hold back. It feels too good, so overwhelmingly good that when she comes she calls out so loudly she knows her voice will be raspy.

He's right behind her, a hoarse shout of his own rattling against her collarbone, as he shoves into her heavily and holds still, his body trembling with the force of his climax.

He's still shaking a little when he leans his weight to one side, sliding his hand down her front until he's pressing his fingers against her opening, pushing one alongside his softening cock. She gasps, full to the edge of being a little painful, but then he's slipping out and using his fore and middle fingers to gather his come. She doesn't know what she's expecting, but it's not for him to circle her hard nipples with those fingers, and then suck them between his lips, using his tongue and teeth to clean himself from her skin. She can no more stop the whimper from escaping her than she can stop the sun from rising and setting each day. She's clutching his shoulders when he reaches between her legs once more, but this time he paints her bottom lip with the mixture of them both, leaning down to kiss her heavily, licking the slick from her lip and into her mouth to let her taste the bitter-sweet-salt-musk sticky mess they've made together.

Finally, he falls to the side, rolling over onto his back. She would normally follow him, curling into his side, but she's boneless with pleasure.

"Fuck," she says, breaking the silence.

He laughs a little breathlessly. "You can say that again." He reaches out for her. "C'mere."

She goes, all but flopping half onto him. "I love you."

He combs his fingers through her hair, tugging on it just enough for her to lift her face to him. He kisses her, close-lipped and gentle, his free hand stroking along her side as he curls into her. "I love you, too."