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Sweet Refuge

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~ 6 Months Earlier ~




One of these nights

One of these crazy old nights

We're gonna find out pretty mama

What turns on your lights … 



Rings out through the bar. Red light cast on skin and empty glasses, waiting to be refilled. Cigarette smoke fills the place, people’s drug of choice with their drink. 

 

She sits there alone, studying the room, her drink in hand. Her elbow rests upon the bar, her wrist working in slow motions as she swirls her drink around aimlessly. She’s here for the same reason she usually comes out alone on nights like these. Looking for someone. When a woman works as often as she does, they’re bound to get a little lonely. 

 

A lot lonely, actually. 



The full moon is calling

The fever is high

And the wicked wind whispers and moans

You got your demons you got desires

Well I got a few of my own



She doesn’t even notice him sit down beside her. Not at first anyways. She’s far too in her own head for that. Thinking. She’s eyeballed one guy in the corner who keeps looking at her and she’s smirked at him a couple of times. But she just isn’t feeling it. He’s cute enough. About her age, maybe a little younger. But he looks like the kind of guy that cry afterwards and that’s not her cup of tea. 

 

“You here by yourself?” She hears. His voice is low. Friendly. 

 

Olivia turns her attention to the man sitting beside her. He’s tipping a beer to his lips. The first thing she notices about him is his eyes, right off the bat. They’re the bluest fucking eyes she’s ever seen in her life and at that image alone, something inside her leaps. 

 

“Maybe.” Olivia smiles, tilting her head. She’s still analyzing him. Burgundy sweatshirt. Jeans. Older. If she had to guess, ten-ish years. Maybe a little more. She judges that based solely on the fact that he has soft lines on his face and his hairline is receding. He has a nice face. Handsome. 

 

He corners his eyes around at her when she answers him, giving her a soft smile. 

 

“You?” Olivia asks. Her curiosity has peaked. 

 

“Yeah.” He hangs his head, his smile fading slightly and his beer still held in the same position she’s holding her drink. Their elbows resting on the bar. 

 

“What’s your name?” Olivia asks. 

 

He raises his head and looks over at her yet again. He looks a little surprised. 

 

“Elliot.” He says, sitting his beer down and extending his hand out to her to shake. 

 

Olivia narrows her eyes at his hand before slipping her own into it. She shakes his hand firmly. 

 

“A man that shakes hands. Interesting.” Olivia laughs, still holding onto him. His hands are relatively soft. 

 

“Shouldn’t we all?” Elliot asks, raising a brow at her. 

 

“It’s more uncommon than you think.” She grins at him. Their hands are still holding onto each other. It’s only when he pulls his hand away that she feels the ring on his finger. 

 

Olivia’s brown eyes cast down onto it. She feels a rush of embarrassment come over her. Olivia picks her drink back up and puts it against her wine colored lips. She takes a sip and looks away from him. 

 

Silence. 

 

“You okay?” Elliot asks, his expression confused. 

 

Olivia nods, taking another drink. She sits it down and lets out a laugh, shaking her head. 

 

“What?” Elliot’s eyebrows knit together. 

 

“Nothing.” Olivia shakes her head. 

 

Silence. Elliot picks his beer back up and takes a drink. 

 

“Most guys just take it off beforehand.” Olivia says. 

 

Elliot tilts his head at her.

 

“Take what off?” He asks, genuinely confused. 

 

Olivia points at his ring.

 

Elliot stares at her for a moment before his expression relaxes — his eyes widen shortly after. 

 

“Oh — I’m not, no, I wasn’t—“ Elliot waves his hand, shaking his head ‘no’. 

 

Olivia gives him a ‘yeah right’ look. 

 

“I’m not here to pick up women.” Elliot objects. 

 

“Then what are you here for? To drink by yourself?” Olivia asks, still not buying his story. 

 

“I just needed somewhere to unwind.” Elliot states. 

 

“Isn’t that what home is for?” Olivia snickers, taking another sip of her drink. 

 

Silence. 

 

She looks at him, eyes flickering up and down. She reaches up and adjusts the thick black strap of her dress. 

 

“Oh.” Olivia says. It dawns on her. “Tough night?” 

 

“Something like that.” Elliot says. 



Ooh... someone to be kind to in between the dark and the light

Ooh... coming right behind you swear I'm gonna find you

One of these nights

One of these dreams

One of these lost and lonely dreams now

We're gonna find one

Mmmm... one that really screams



Olivia doesn’t want to hear about it, so she simply doesn’t ask. But God, is he attractive. Nope. She won’t do it. She’s never gone there before and she’s not about to now. 

 

She feels his eyes on her and for a moment, she considers getting up and walking away — moving down a few seats so they’re no longer sitting side by side. 

 

For a moment. 

 

“I’m about to start a new job so I think … things are just stressful right now.” Elliot states. 

 

“Yeah, that’ll do it.” Olivia says. She really doesn’t want to even open this door. 

 

“Have you ever been married?” Elliot asks. 

 

Olivia whips her head around. He’s blunt, this much she’s figured. 

 

“Too invasive?” Elliot asks. 

 

“A little.” Olivia laughs, tucking a piece of her short hair behind her ear. “But no, I’m not and I haven’t been.” She adds, turning her attention back to her drink. 

 

“Don’t.” Elliot laughs, taking another swig of his beer. 

 

“Noted.” Olivia salutes him. She drops her hand and begins tapping her nails on the granite.

 

He finally coaxes a conversation out of her. They go back and forth for a while, talking about this and that. Nothing too personal. Random things like the weather and what drinks she prefers over others. What he likes. What sports he’s into. He offers to buy her a drink, but she says no.

 

“Any contenders?” Elliot asks. 

 

“Sorry?” She raises both eyebrows at him. 

 

“Any contenders? You uh … you’re scoping.” Elliot remarks, clearing his throat. 

 

Olivia turns her attention back to him and narrows her brown eyes. Her lips curl into a slight smirk. 

 

“Scoping?” Olivia chuckles. 

 

“Mhm. You have been for a while.” Elliot states. 

 

“Oh, so you’ve been watching me?” Olivia asks, eyebrow cocked. 

 

Silence. 

 

Their eyes lock. 

 

Elliot slowly forms a smile, toothy and his face flushes. 

 

“If I was?” He asks, a little breathlessly. 

 

Olivia stares at him for a moment, looking him up and down. Don’t open that door. Don’t open that door. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. 

 

“Then I might be able to … relieve some of your stress.” Olivia looks him up and down, tucking her bottom lip into her mouth. 

 

Elliot raises both brows in surprise at her statement. 

 

“How would you do that?” Elliot asks. He should shut this down now, he thinks. Right now. Right now. Right now. 

 

But fuck this day. It’s been hard and the very sight of this stranger beside him makes something inside him twist and delight.

 

She’s beautiful. Younger than him. Deep wine colored lips and black eyeliner around pretty brown eyes. Thick lashes. A black dress that fits in all the right places with black hose to accompany it. 

 

Olivia looks him up and down, her expression coy. 

 

“Maybe we could … I don’t know …” Olivia scoots around to face him for the first time since they started talking. She licks her lips and tilts her head at him. 

 

“We could … what?” Elliot asks. 



. . . . . . . . 



The motel room is … interesting. It’s not fancy or necessarily desirable. There’s a bed. Two side tables. Two lamps. The walls are done in some kind of half white, half wood paneling. There’s a bathroom - it’s small. 

 

When they enter the room, Olivia tosses her keys down on the television stand. On top of it sits a dated TV. Actually, the whole room is dated. 

 

“This is …” Elliot trails off. 

 

“Terrible. But … it’s clean.” Olivia shrugs. 

 

“Yeah …” 

 

Olivia drops her purse in one of the chairs in the room. There’s two that sit on either side of a tiny round table in front of the window. She kicks her shoes off and corners her eyes around when she notices him watching her. 

 

“You’ve never done this before have you?” Olivia asks. 

 

“Done what?” Elliot plays dumb. He knows what she means — and no he hasn’t. 

 

“Another woman.” Olivia says nonchalantly. “Well, maybe you have but … you’ve never been so …” She snaps her fingers. “Direct, about it, am I right?” 

 

Elliot puts both hands behind his back, his fingers lacing around his wrist to hold them in place. 

 

“What makes you think I don’t do this all the time?” Elliot asks. 

 

Silence. 

 

Olivia smirks. 

 

“You’re very reserved.” Olivia states. Their cab ride had been one of her more interesting rides with a man. Lots of small talk and not a lot of touching. Usually, by the time they got back to wherever they’d be spending their evening, she’s at least already kissed a man. But, he hasn’t even tried to kiss her yet. 

 

“Am I?” Elliot asks, a soft laugh following. He has a nice smile, she thinks. 

 

“I think so.” Olivia makes her way over to him. “How many women have you had outside of your wife?” She asks curiously. 

 

“Invasive.” Elliot smirks. 

 

“Inquisitive.” Olivia grins right back up at him. 

 

“How many married men have you had?” Elliot asks. It’s a fair question. Her expression drops a little. 

 

The room goes quiet and Olivia takes another step towards him. 

 

“How long have you been married?” Olivia asks, arching a brow. 

 

“I thought we weren’t asking personal questions. Your words, not mine.” Elliot grins, eyes searching hers. 

 

“Right.” Olivia bites her lip. 

 

“Don’t do that.” Elliot narrows his blue eyes at her. 

 

“Don’t do what?” Olivia asks, her bottom lip plopping from her mouth. 

 

Elliot takes a deep breath. 

 

“Oh …” Olivia lets out a soft chuckle and she mimics him by putting her hands behind her back. “Are you that starved?” She teases him. 

 

“How do you mean?” Elliot’s smirk doesn’t fade once. 

 

“Are you that starved that a woman doing something as simple as biting her lip gets you going?” Olivia asks, tilting her head. 

 

No, he wants to say. But there’s something about the way she does it that makes him leap in his pants. She likes to tease, he can tell. He’s not sure if it’s just a persona she puts on in front of someone she wants to lay or if this is how she really is but either way, he’s not complaining. 

 

“Don’t worry.” Olivia whispers, shaking her head. 

 

“I feel like I should.” Elliot replies, his tone matching hers. 

 

Olivia’s expression fades for a moment, only for a soft smile to reappear on her lips when he reaches for the hem of his sweatshirt and pulls it up over his head. He drops it to the ground, revealing his bare chest. She cocks a brow at him and looks him over. The tattoo on his arm, the one of Jesus — that catches her eyes first. Then there’s a Marine emblem on his forearm, on the opposite side of Jesus. 

 

That’s how she feels at that moment. The opposite side of Jesus … if she even cared. She’s not religious. But she knows the man on the side of Elliot’s arm frowns upon bedding married men. 

 

Elliot takes a deep breath and reaches out to stroke her face but she moves away playfully, side-eying him. 

 

“What if I’m in charge?” Olivia asks. 

 

Elliot raises an eyebrow.

 

“What if I say … when you can touch me and when you can’t?” Olivia asks, her tone lowering. 

 

She’s having too much fun. 

 

Elliot’s jaw clenches. 

 

“Something tells me you don’t like being told what to do though.” Olivia states, brown eyes wandering up and down his bare chest. She reaches out and begins tracing the crucifix tattoo on the side of his arm. 

 

Elliot’s eyes narrow, studying her. She can tell he is too because she remains quiet. 

 

“You don’t do this very often either, do you?” Elliot asks. 

 

“Sorry?” Olivia asks, slightly taken aback by his statement. 

 

“I can tell.” Elliot says. “I’m a good read.” He adds. 

 

“I’m good at reading people too.” Olivia ignores his question all together. “I think I have you figured out for the most part.” She adds. 

 

“Oh?” Elliot asks. 

 

“You live a very straight laced life. Go home to your kids every night. Have dinner … probably meatloaf, a lot.” Olivia laughs, her fingertip still tracing his tattoo. Up and down, swirling. “And if you’re lucky …” Olivia’s voice trails off. 

 

Silence. 

 

Olivia’s expression fades. There’s a part of her that doesn’t feel comfortable with saying what she’s thinking. 

 

“What?” Elliot’s eyes are narrowed. 

 

“If you’re lucky,” Olivia takes a step closer to him until their faces are mere inches apart from one another. “Maybe she’ll let you turn the light on.” Olivia’s voice falls off into hoarseness. 

 

Elliot inhales deeply, eyes flickering over her face. 

 

“And you like the light on?” 

 

“Oh I like to see. I have sex with my eyes wide open. Lights on.” 

 

“Is that so?” 

 

“Uh-huh.” 

 

“Hm.” 

 

Silence. 

 

“So you think … let me get this straight, I’m … what? Vanilla?” Elliot asks. 

 

“Correct.” Olivia replies straight away, smiling from ear to ear. 

 

“You don’t even know me.” Elliot laughs. 

 

She was right about coming home to kids, having meatloaf — more often than he should. Sometimes, Kathy would let him turn the light on.

 

“I know your type.” Olivia whispers. 

 

“What’s my type?” Elliot’s brows furrow. 

 

Olivia thinks for a moment, closing the gap between them by taking one small and final step forward. 

 

“You’ve probably done the same position for the past, what? Twenty years? And she only ever likes it one way … soft and sweet.” Olivia whispers, her breath tickling his lips. 

 

She’s right … again. 

 

“How do you like it?” Elliot deflects. 

 

She smiles the most devilish smile he’s ever seen. 

 

“Not soft and sweet.” Olivia fights back a laugh. 

 

He feels like he’s practically ready to burst through his pants at that point and almost as if she’s reading his mind, her eyes drift down between their bodies and she takes notice of it. The growing bulge. She looks back up at him with a satisfied smirk. 

 

“Tease.” Is all Elliot says, exhaling deeply. 

 

“I think you might like it. I think that right now …” Olivia nods. “You might be thinking about pushing me down on that bed …” She points behind her at the full sized bed. “And … what? Giving me your best …” She stops. 

 

Elliot’s mouth is already falling open. 

 

“Three … four pumps?” Olivia snickers. 

 

Silence. 

 

Any other man may get angry at her snide little remarks. But Elliot sees it as a challenge. She’s pushing his buttons. He wonders how much practice she’s had with this kind of thing. Pushing the buttons of men. 

 

Elliot takes a deep breath and his shoulders relax. He nods, a grin on his lips. He leans forward so his ear is to her mouth. 

 

“I think you’ve underestimated me.”

 

“Oh?” She asks, her laugh breathy. 

 

“I think you’ll come to find, when I’m inside you …” 

 

“Uh-huh?” 

 

“And I’m fucking you so hard you can’t breathe …” 

 

“Spicy.” 

 

“That the last thing on your mind is going to whether or not the lights are on.” 

 

She goes quiet. Only for a moment. 

 

“Prove it.” 

 

Elliot begins backing her up against the bed and she lets out a soft giggle. Their chemistry is through the roof and she can’t say she’s ever experienced that with another man before. Not even ones she’s actually dated. 

 

“What are you gonna do?” Olivia asks, grinning wildly up at him. 

 

“Oh you’re gonna see.” Elliot breathes out. 

 

“Purse.” She says, pointing to the chair at his side. 

 

“What?” Elliot asks. 

 

“Hand me my purse.” She states. 

 

Elliot, with a confused look on his face, reaches for her purse and hands it to her. 

 

“Thank you.” Olivia’s demeanor completely changes as she flips the flap of the purse open and begins fishing through it. She pulls out two little foil packets. One green and the other gold. She tosses her purse back down in the chair closest to her and holds them out to Elliot between her fingers. 

 

Elliot slowly reaches up and takes them from her. 

 

“You’re catholic aren’t you?” Olivia narrows her eyes at him. 

 

“I thought we agreed no personal questions.” Elliot grins, looking down between them as she begins working on his belt. 

 

Olivia grins and jerks his fly down — pushing his pants down in one swift motion. She doesn’t have to take his briefs off to see that he’s big. She feels the dull ache between her legs, that formed sometime in between their verbal teasing, ease into a soft throb. 

 

“You’re excited aren’t you?” Elliot teases. 

 

“No personal questions.” Olivia repeats his words right back at him with a soft smirk. 

 

“Bad.” Elliot hums, already fumbling with one of the edges of the condom packet in his hand. 

 

“What are you gonna do about it?” She asks. She’s feeling pretty bold considering she doesn’t know him. At all. She just met this man a little over two hours ago.

 

Elliot’s expression drops and he tosses the condoms down onto the bed — one of them already half unwrapped. He’ll get to those in a minute. He grabs her by both arms and spins her around. She gasps in surprise, the very corner of her lip still turned up. 

 

Elliot pulls the zipper down on the back of her dress. His hands flatten against her bare back, fingers grazing across her bra straps as he pushes the dress from her shoulders. Her skin is soft. So soft. 

 

“Nah, no more smart mouth. Step out.” Elliot says, his New York flare to his ‘nah’. 

 

“What?” Olivia teases, looking over her shoulder at him. 

 

“Step out.” His voice becomes firmer. 

 

Silence. 

 

Olivia turns her head over her shoulder, giving him a toothy grin. The side of her nose scrunches up. 

 

“Nah.” She mimics him, eyebrows bouncing up softly only to relax. 

 

Elliot narrows his blue eyes at her. He doesn’t know where the hell this woman came from, but regardless of how right or wrong it was, he’s feeling pretty glad that he sat down beside her. 

 

Guilt lingers around in there somewhere, sure. But right now the tunnel vision they both have for one another is incomprehensible. Maybe they smelled whatever need they had on each other, waiting for the other to satisfy it. 

 

Elliot jerks the dress down from her body in the same way she pushed his pants down. Quick and rough. She nearly falls over from his abruptness, but balances herself by pressing her knees against the foot of the bed. 

 

As soon as her dress is in a black clump around her ankles, only then does she step out. Elliot’s hands flatten against her bare stomach, bringing her to his chest. His lips find the side of her neck, his nose nuzzling in between dark hair in efforts to find it. 

 

The first time she feels his lips, she sighs. They’re nice. Softer than she expected. Skillful. Olivia reaches her arm up to grab onto the back of his neck, her palm flattening against the skin there. 

 

Elliot drags his tongue across the skin of her shoulder, then back up to a certain spot just behind her ear. She shrugs her shoulders in defense and bursts into a fit of giggles. He pulls back just a little, smiling because he realizes he’s tickled her. 

 

She snorts. 

 

“Sorry.” She mutters. 

 

“Don’t be.” Elliot smiles. The hand that’s flattened against her stomach begins to trail down until it’s resting over her clothed heat. She bucks her hips out barely, but he feels it. “How’s that, baby?” He asks. 

 

“I hate pet names.” She shakes her head quickly. 

 

He pushes her underwear to the side, dipping a finger between her folds. 

 

“I said, how’s that, baby?” Elliot husks against her ear. 

 

“Fuck …” Her knees go weak. 

 

“That’s what I thought.” Elliot says, cockily. 

 

Elliot reaches with his free hand and pulls her leg until it’s hooked onto his four fingers, holding it up so he can work his fingers into her deeper. And he does — he slides them up and down velvety folds, already so slick they’re coated in her. When he slips one and then two inside of her, she whimpers and her head falls back onto his shoulder. 

 

“Ask for it.” Elliot huffs out against her ear, pulling his fingers from her. 

 

Olivia’s eyes open halfway, looking at him. A smirk curls on her lips. 

 

“Nah.” She almost laughs. Almost. It’s breathy. 

 

He cocks an eyebrow at her. 

 

“You’re insane.” Elliot laughs, eyes locked on hers. His fingers dip into her once more, curls — then pulls out. His fingertips graze her clit. “Ask for it.” He repeats himself. 

 

“Please …” Olivia bucks her hips. 

 

“Please what?” Elliot asks, breathlessly — not quite sure how he’s keeping up on his little balancing act. He’s still holding one leg in the air of hers — the other hand is nestled between her legs. 

 

“Please, don’t stop.” Olivia moans. 

 

Then he does what he’s been wanting to do since they were in the cab. He leans in and presses his mouth against hers, silencing a moan that was just about to come out. He remains still for a moment before he begins to kiss her in feverish pecks. 

 

She opens her mouth for him and he takes that as an immediate invitation for his tongue. Elliot moves his hand from between her legs and trails his fingers up to her neck, leaving a wet streak just around her collarbone. He grips her neck gently in his hands, thick fingers that were just inside her moments before resting there — fingertips that were caressing her sensitive walls now resting just below her chin. 

 

Olivia moves one hand down between her leg as they kiss, but before she can even get to her destination, he drops her leg from his hand and smacks her hand playfully. She whimpers against his mouth. She’s becoming weaker in his arms and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it. 

 

Elliot enjoys proving her wrong. 

 

His right hand trails up to cup her breast through the material of her black bra, where he begins to massage his hand against her. She moans into his mouth and at that point, he pulls away completely and spins her back around to face him. 

 

Olivia stands there, skin red and on fire for him. He uses the same hand that was nestled between her legs moments before to reach up and run over her neck, flattened. But he doesn’t stop there, he keeps going up the side of her cheek — his thumb grazing her lips. She opens her mouth and playfully nips at the palm of his hand. 

 

Elliot’s eyes linger heavily on her. Their eyes lock, but in a different way than before. He’s not quite sure what it is, but for a moment they just stop and stare at each other as his hand rests on her cheek, caressing her chin and bottom lip with his thumb. 

 

“Don’t get soft on me, vanilla boy.” Olivia teases, reaching behind her back and unfastening her bra. 

 

She lets the bra fall from her shoulders and slide down her arms and before he knows it, she’s completely naked in front of him, all but the little pair of matching panties that he’s already disregarded in his mind. She’s gorgeous. Hands down the most beautiful woman he’s ever been with. He feels guilty for even thinking it, but it’s true. 

 

He was going to show her vanilla. 

 

Olivia reaches for the condom on the bed and unwraps the one he started to take out the rest of the way. She pulls it out of the little piece of foil and watches as he pushes his boxers down over his hips. His erection springs free and she grins at him, almost comically — back and forth between his face and hard length. 

 

“Look at you.” She whispers, brown eyes flickering down. Olivia, without another word, plops down on the foot of the bed. She reaches out and wraps her fingers around his length, giving him a little pull towards her. 

 

Elliot grunts and walks forward until he’s pretty much standing there in her face. Olivia grins and slides the condom onto him. Her fingers wrap around him and she uses this as an opportunity to pleasure him — to tease, like he had done with her. She begins pumping him into her hand and the moment she feels him twitch in her palm, she lets out a little moan. That dull throb has turned into something that’s pulsing from the inside of her thighs to the pit of her stomach. She squeezes her thighs together.

 

Olivia bites her lip and begins moving her other flattened hand up his bare chest. He thrusts himself into her hand. As soon as he does, she pulls both hands from him and lays back on the bed, where she begins to crawl backwards until she’s in the center of the bed. Elliot follows her. 

 

He’s really about to do this. 

 

He’s really about to do this.

 

He’s really about to do this. 

 

With another woman. 

 

As soon as Elliot comes to her knees, he stops and looks down at her. He can tell by the look on her face that she’s not finished with her antics — he can practically see her wheels turning, concocting her next form of verbal torment. 

 

“Slowing down on me?” Olivia asks breathlessly, fingers latching onto her underwear. She lifts her ass off the bed and begins pulling them down — in little push pull motions.

 

Here it comes. 

 

“If you are, you can just watch … I can take it from here.” Olivia smiles innocently. 

 

That was an age jab. 

 

His eyes narrow at her. Elliot clears his throat and moves until he’s hovering above her — he pulls her hands from her underwear, which are only halfway down her legs, and pins them above her head. She lets out a little gasp, and only for a brief moment does her expression change into seriousness. She purses her lips together, her chest rising and falling quickly. 

 

Blue eyes lock with brown ones and for a moment, he sees her. It’s brief, but he sees her in there, floating around. Not the person she is while they’re playing whatever kind of little game this is, but there’s someone else in there. 

 

“Do you trust me?” Elliot asks, eyes still narrowed into tiny squints. He hasn’t quite figured her out, but he knows she’s a thrill seeker. 

 

“I don’t know you.” Olivia says quietly, watching as he lowers his head to kiss her neck. His mouth travels down, and down, until he’s placing soft kisses on her breasts. 

 

“Are you this bold usually?” He asks seriously, his tongue dipping out to swirl around her nipple. 

 

“No.” She answers breathlessly. 

 

Fuck. 

 

He lured a question out of it — she decides she won’t answer any more questions when his mouth is on her. 

 

“You’ve done this before.” Olivia husks. 

 

“Not bad for a vanilla?” Elliot smirks, his mouth moving to her other breast, where he begins to suck and kiss. She whimpers. 

 

“So you have …” Olivia arches into him. 

 

“Is that a question?” Elliot asks. 

 

“It’s a statement.” Olivia’s breathing is all over the place. 

 

Elliot pulls back and without another word, he reaches for her legs, which lay to the side, one on top of the other. When he tries to open them, however — she claps her knees back together in a last ditch effort to fuck with him. 

 

Olivia laughs, low. 

 

She really is insane. 

 

Elliot’s jaw clenches. 

 

“Vanilla.” She whispers up at him. 

 

Silence. He stares down at her, practically burning a hole through her. 

 

She raises her hands back over her head, where she plays with the edges of her splayed hair. Some of it has fallen into her face but she doesn’t make an effort to move it. Her lipstick is a little smeared from their activities but other than that — other than the pile of clothes laying around the room, as if they’re bowing at their fucked up little feet, she’s pretty in tact. 

 

Elliot licks his lips, a soft grin curling on them. 

 

“Vani—“ Before she can even mutter the word, his hands are on her hips and he’s turning her around on her stomach — lifting her ass in the air and jerking down her underwear the rest of the way. She gasps into the quilt, hands flying out to the rim of the neatly tucked bedding. She braces herself the moment she feels his tip at her entrance — she can’t see — dark wisps have fallen into her face. 

 

“Vanilla.” She husks, breathlessly. 

 

Elliot pushes himself into her. 

 

Her fingers clench onto the quilt. 

 

“Mm …” She pants. “Vanilla.” 

 

Elliot eases into her, inch by inch. 

 

“Vanilla.” She eggs him on. 

 

When the front of his pelvis is against her ass, she wiggles against him. 

 

“How’s that?” Elliot asks, his hands planted firmly on her hips. 

 

She smirks, turning her head just enough so she can see him through fallen pieces of hair. 

 

“Vanilla.” She whispers. 

 

He jolts against her, a grunt leaving his lips. 

 

“Vanilla.” She moans. 

 

Elliot pulls out, only to push back in. 

 

“Vanilla.” She whimpers. 

 

He’s tired of hearing that word. Elliot’s hand travels down to cup her ass cheek in his hand. He rubs it, gently. 

 

“Vanilla.” She giggles devilishly, somewhere in the midst of sounds that leave her mouth. 

 

He slaps. 

 

“Fuck …” She groans, knuckles turning white. 

 

“What?” Elliot asks. He begins to move in and out of her, rocking at first before he finds his rhythm. 

 

“Van—“ 

 

Slap. 

 

“Oh!” Olivia whimpers.

 

Elliot’s hips begin slapping against her vigorously, the sounds of skin on skin feeling the room. She’s full of him. Her mouth parts more with each thrust, each time he grabs her hips a little harder. 

 

“Fuck …” Elliot moans, looking down between them. The way she’s wrapped around him is enough to make him come right then and there but he has a point to prove. He watches them for a moment. How they part and rejoin, her slickness covering his shaft. 

 

“Elliot …” She whimpers, face buried in the quilt. 

 

He stops. 

 

“Are you okay?” Elliot asks. 

 

She laughs. 

 

“Vanilla.” Her voice is hoarse. 

 

Elliot rolls his eyes and pulls himself from her. He flips her over in an instance. Her legs are already drawn for him, but once again — he sees those wheels turning. 

 

She smiles up at him. 

 

“Tired?” Olivia asks. 

 

Elliot nestles himself between her legs and re-enters her. He’s glad he turned her over because now he can see her face. Read her. He’s doing something right because her face is just about as red as the light from the bar.

 

“Vanilla.” Olivia laughs. She doesn’t give up very easily. 

 

Elliot reaches for both her arms and pins them above her head. His fingers link into hers, and he begins thrusting himself into her deeply. Roughly. 

 

“Van …” Olivia’s breathless. 

 

“What was that?” Elliot arches an eyebrow, grunting with every move. 

 

“V …” 

 

“Yeah.” Elliot grins, one hand leaving hers and sliding between their bodies. He begins to rub her clit, flicking it between his fingers — anything until he gets the reaction he wants out of her. 

 

“Vanilla?” Elliot asks. 

 

She nods, eyes shut tight. 

 

“Open your eyes.” 

 

She tries but fails. 

 

“Vanilla?” Elliot’s voice comes out in a husky whisper. 

 

“Van … illa.” She cries out. 

 

“It’s okay baby,” Elliot smirks. She opens her eyes and gives him a dirty look. “You can admit it.” He presses his lips to her ear. “Tell me how much you love my cock being buried inside you just like this …” He jerks forward. 

 

Elliot comes to a dead stop. She whimpers and moves her hips up against him, but it’s simply not enough. 

 

“I’ll wait.” Elliot’s blue eyes lock on her much darker ones. “Go on and tell me how good it feels.” 

 

Olivia makes a face at him, bordering along the lines of looking like she’s about to whine. But she doesn’t. 

 

“Come on …” She whimpers. That’s all she can get out. 

 

“Tell me.” His fingers begin to play with her and she swears, she’s completely soaking them from just her arousal alone. 

 

“I … it feels good.” Olivia moans. 

 

“What does?” Elliot asks. 

 

She scowls at him. 

 

“She’s prideful.” Elliot smirks. 

 

“Vanilla.” Olivia retorts. 

 

He jerks his hips forward and she cries out, her nails digging into the palm of his hand. 

 

“You’re so close already, I can feel it. Tell me how badly you need to come …” Elliot husks down at her.

 

“Make me come.” Olivia nods, her lips curling up. 

 

“That’s not a request.” Elliot shakes his head. 

 

“If you don’t fucking move I’m going to turn you over and—“

 

He thrusts his hips forward, relentlessly and the moment he does, her mouth flies open and she digs the back of her head into the mattress — eyes rolling so far back for a moment she thinks she sees black spots. She does. They’re all over the place. 

 

“You feel so fucking good. So warm … wet.” Elliot grunts, his hips slapping against hers. “Come for me. I’m close.” Elliot pants, circling his hips into her. 

 

That’s all it takes, that little movement and between his fingers working on her clit, plus his hips circling into just the right spot — she begins to come. 

 

Olivia’s hips jerk forward against him. Her body shakes as she lays underneath his weight. Her hips — her thighs, vibrate around him. 

 

“Oh fuck! Oh!” She cries. She draws blood from digging her nail into the palm of his hand, which is rested above her head, holding her hands down. 

 

Elliot, determined to hang on, to prove himself — keeps going. He drives into her with a force he hasn’t had in years. Feeling her spasm and flutter around him would usually be enough to make him come, but he has other plans. He closes his eyes, little moans leaving his lips. He feels a slight vibration beginning at the tip of his length and trickle down. 

 

Elliot releases her hands and pulls out of her — a whimper leaving her lips as she comes down from her high. He reaches down and pulls the condom off, flinging it somewhere. He positions himself so he’s pointing at her lower stomach. It only takes a few pumps into his hand for him to begin releasing onto the soft skin there. 

 

“Shit …” He groans, his head knocking back. 

 

Olivia opens her eyes and watches, eyes slightly widened. Her focus drifts down to the mess he’s made on her and quite frankly — she’s never experienced something so erotic in her life. She would never tell him that. Hell, she’ll never see him again after tonight anyways.

 

When Elliot’s finished, he falls onto his back beside her. 

 

They lay there in silence. Both a mess. Both … out of it. 

 

Only after a moment does Elliot  move further up the bed to grab a box of tissues. Her eyes open and she watches him make his way back over to her. She can’t help but smirk at the fact that he’s really about to try and clean her up. 

 

She laughs, a little wheezy. 

 

“What?” Elliot asks. 

 

Olivia reaches out, knocking the tissue box out of his hand before she pushes him down onto his back and climbs on top of him. 

 

This goes on for the rest of the night. Their little power struggle or whatever it is. Until Elliot is so tired he practically passes out. 

 

Detective Olivia Benson, however, is used to long nights awake. Exhausted from cases and what not. She waits until he falls asleep, until his chest is rising and falling softly, before she slips out —  collecting what she could find laying around her clothes. 

 

She leaves in what she came in, except for her pantyhose. 

 

As the sun comes up, she opens the door and sneaks one more peak of a sleeping Elliot. 

 

She shuts the door behind her quietly, leaving the motel.