A/N: forgive me for my mistakes (Jaz said it was ok) this fic is thanks to twitter and the car photos and someone suggesting Liv being UC with Elliot and Donnelly. IDK who made the suggestion but.. here you go xx
“What are you doing?”
Olivia, his thoughts scream.
He’s borderline panicking and wants to laugh frantically, nervously, as she bats her eyelashes at him.
Elliot casually turns his back to the bar where Olivia sits, dropping his forearm over her lap. He doesn’t miss how she sits back in her chair so that he doesn't brush her breasts as he situates himself closer to her. His eyes are on the cops surrounding them, watching her back but also tracking Donnelley. He doesn’t trust the man around her and that’s what this whole night is for— to get Donnelly far away from Olivia Benson.
“We’re supposed to be showing him that we aren’t friendly anymore,” Elliot says as a reminder.
“I thought you wanted to sell it?” Olivia asks, her voice soft. She reaches for his chest instinctively and allows her fingertips to graze over his fuzzy skin.
Maybe it’s a little payback, touching him like this.
A week ago, Elliot called her, and just after she’d greeted him, he started with: “It’s not that I told him you were my mistress—“
She had stopped him right there and it’d taken him over an hour to convince her into this. She’s there to prove once again that she and Elliot are not close and to be clear, they are utterly failing at it.
They’re supposed to be angry with each other, or at the very least, she is supposed to be angry with him. As Elliot Stabler’s bitter ex tonight, she should be looking down at him, embarrassed by how far he’s fallen and there only because of the relationship they once had.
They are to have a quiet heated argument and she is to walk out and it’s their goal to get Donnelly way off of Olivia’s scent.
We need someone with her pull, Donnelly had told him one night. Everyone loves and respects Captain Benson. We need her.
The goal here was to show Donnelly that it isn’t an option. Olivia isn’t open to ever being recruited by the brotherhood and that she, in fact, isn’t able to stand Elliot… but fighting against their chemistry had been way too hard of a challenge.
Olivia had arrived late, thanks to work, so Elliot had already been a few drinks in. He wasn’t drunk by any means, but he was louder than usual, calmer than usual. He greeted her with a giant smile and introduced her to Carling, Sandwood, Bolton, Parnell, and Bushido, all members of The Brotherhood.
As Elliot folded her long jacket over his arm, his eyes dropped down to the fitted blue jeans and tan v-neck sweater and he’d leaned in and told her that she looked good, all with a twinkle in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. And then she touched him first, ran her hand up his forearm to squeeze at the muscles piled on his flexed arm, and she whispered in her most breathy and womanly voice, ‘thanks.’
Then Elliot ushered her to the bar where he’d been eating and offered her the seat right next to him. Donnelly, a man on a mission, joined them and began treating them both to drink. As she casually ate off of Elliot’s plate, they began catching up. She and Donnelly at first, and the entire time Elliot had been watching her pouty lips move. He watched her laugh and joke and press her hand over her cleavage like she was enjoying it all.
The second Donnelly saw an opening, he had asked about them.
“When did you all start seeing each other?”
“I can’t imagine what that means, Frank. Seeing each other? He was my partner for thirteen years and nothing else,” she’d rattled off but it meant nothing when she’d fucking winked at Elliot right in front of Donnelly and they all laughed. “We were close. Then he left and things changed.”
Donnelly proceeded to become the best wingman she’s ever seen. His buddy is the greatest.
He’s crazy about you, Benson.
Look at him. Poor lonely widower.
He needs someone just like you, Benson.
A good friend to pull him out of his funk.
It’d made her cringe internally, all the parallels to real life. Knowing that he is in fact a lonely widower and does keep reaching out to her, his friend, all while she keeps maintaining the distance between them, made her feel immeasurable guilt. It’d been overwhelming and she accepted too many drinks from Donnelly, and somehow over an hour later, the lines have blurred considerably.
Elliot is fun to fuck with and as soon as her nervousness began to fizzle away, she discovered how easy it was to make Elliot blush. How with just a look she could make his gaze falter, make him laugh awkwardly. They find themselves too far deep into shit-talking that they’d gone silent the second Donnelly walked away and now Elliot is questioning her.
“I do want to sell it but you...” Elliot’s emphasis on you is the end of his sentence.
His eyes drop suddenly to her mouth and then lower. He looks down between them, the soft cleavage exposed, at her lap and she swats him with the back of her hand. He grabs her wrist and holds it to his chest.
“I’m flirting with you,” she whispers, chuckling. “You can’t handle it? I can back off. Say something rude and I’ll storm out.”
“I can fucking handle it, Olivia.”
She laughs quietly, straightening her spine, inadvertently pushing her cleavage up. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
“I’ll hold back for you,” she offers sweetly and it makes Elliot laugh even harder this time.
“I’m fine,” he grumbles.
“It’s just that you told the guy you were fucking me for a decade and now you can’t handle me touching you?”
His eyes narrow at her and he rolls his shoulders. “I did not tell him we were fucking for a decade… I’m just making sure you’re okay because I know you’re not used to playing a part like this but I think, you’re playing with fire. Given our… friendship outside of this.”
“Oh? Our friendship? That’s what has you so concerned?”
“Yeah,” he says with a tight nod of his head.
Olivia peers closer to him. “Elaborate,” she rasps, her voice a whisper. She makes it a point to look at his lips and then at his eyes. “This makes you uncomfortable? Me being this close?”
Elliot laughs. “You keep tempting me Olivia and—“
“I’m going to jump on you,” he growls, voice deep.
If he thinks that’d scare her away or make her back down, he is wrong. “Maybe I’d like that,” Olivia says just loud enough for him to hear.
“Look at the happy couple!” Donnelly’s voice breaks them apart, but their eyes remain locked.
“We’re not a couple,” Olivia says instantly.
Frank shrugs. “But you could be?”
“C’mon Frank, you’re embarrassing me.”
“Stabler, tell Benson how I almost lost my nose. Tell her how you saved my life.”
Elliot obliges and starts animatedly telling her a story that’s quite frankly a little disturbing. Donnelly and Elliot were both almost shot but Elliot had saved them with his “quick thinking and agility” —his words, not hers.
“How many close calls have you guys had?”
“A couple,” Donnelly says, laughing.
“I don’t like that,” Olivia murmurs, absently reaching over and hooking her hand behind Elliot’s head, scratching gently at his scalp. “You were always accident prone, huh?”
He leans into her touch for a second before she spots the narrowing of his eyes, so she pulls her hand back. “Sorry,” she mouths.
Without saying a word, he reaches for her hand, tugging it and replacing it where it’d just been. She chuckles, scratching gently, allowing her fingers to slip into the back of his shirt and then up the column of his neck.
His arms cross over his chest, squaring his shoulders as he and Donnelly continue talking. Olivia turns her attention to her phone and she realizes then that they are failing even worse than before.
She’s literally stroking his head in the middle of a bar and he just leans in closer to her but keeps telling his story. She supposes if they were exes this would probably be something they likely used to do? This behavior is excusable because they're technically undercover tonight and yeah... as exes, this mild form of PDA would all be normal behavior? Right?
“Hey, Liv,” Elliot says, his hand dropping to her lap. He turns into her and she lifts her head and they are way too close. “I ran into Cragen.”
Olivia perks up at the mention of their old boss. “How is he doing?"
“Great. He looks good. We need to all go out. The old squad.”
"Sure that sounds like a great idea," she says, nodding.
Elliot's eyes darken and his voice deepens and he continues with, "Then next, just me and you."
"Oh, I'm not going to dinner with you."
“Please?” Elliot pokes his bottom lip out in a pout that is ridiculously cute and she has to fight her grin and the swell in her chest.
“Ahh,” she thinks, realizing what he’s doing. He’s flirting back. “I am not going on a date with you,” Olivia repeats.
“Wow." Elliot turns back to Donnelly, saying, “You see how she feels about me?”
“Oh, please. Cry me a river.” Their eyes lock again. We on? she attempts to ask with her eyes as she stuffs her phone into her back pocket. The hand that'd been rubbing at his head drops down to the back of his chair and she prepares herself for the fight. “I shouldn’t even be seen out with you. People will think I support your bad behavior.”
Elliot frowns. “You embarrassed of me?”
“No, I am not,” Olivia answers sharply. “I just won’t get caught in your mess.” She’s attempting to bait him into an argument, but instead of getting upset, he just shrugs.
“Come back. I love it when you do that,” he murmurs, referring to her hand.
He’s trying to drag this out and she’s on to him. “I bet you do.”
“C’mon, Liv. Another round of shots?” Donnelly holds up a whiskey bottle and begins pouring.
“To partners,” Elliot says, holding his shot glass up.
Olivia bites her bottom lip and she tips her glass. “To partners.”
If Elliot is going to try to beat her at her own game, Olivia decides to just be a little more annoying.
“Hey, Frank,” she starts. “I bet you don’t know this, but Stabler here is actually a very sweet guy.”
“What’s that mean?” Frank asks, amused.
“Sweet,” Olivia stresses. “He’s a gentle guy.”
“Liv,” Elliot says, eyes narrowing at her.
“What? You wouldn’t say that you could be a little submissive sometimes? In our partnership.”
They have a stare off and Frank, enjoying seeing them go head to head, adds, “I mean, it’s true. Some powerful men like to hand over their power. That isn’t strange.”
“Powerful women, too,” Elliot adds.
“You think after all the work I’ve done to get where I am that I’d ever be submissive?” Olivia asks.
“Not out in the world, no,” Elliot responds.
She wants to scream at how suggestive his tone is. It trips her up and the only option for her is to just nod and look away.
“You know that shit isn’t true,” he growls directly into her ear the second Donnelly is distracted again.
“It’s ok, sweetheart. You don’t have to admit that you’re probably the type of guy who likes to be pinned down.” When he doesn’t respond, she tips her head toward him, untucking one side of her hair from behind her ear so that when she speaks, no one but him can see her lips. She keeps her voice flirtatious and whispery, murmuring softly, “You wouldn’t like that? Being at my mercy.”
His whole body freezes and Olivia laughs so hard she has to push him away so she can brace herself. She actually laughs harder the longer his face remains stuck. He looks like he's going to pop a vein trying to keep his face straight.
We can end this now, the arch of her eyebrow says to him. But she’s too amused and he’s not in the game of bowing out.
“What the hell do you care if this guy knows you’re romantic?” She asks loud enough for Donnelly to hear her. He turns back toward them and juts his chin out toward Olivia.
“Oh, I know already. He’s always trying to get me to be a better dad. Says I should take nights and give the wife some time off. But what the fuck am I supposed to do with a baby?”
“Wow.” Olivia gives Elliot a look and she shakes her head. “El, I’ll be right back.”
Frank is a dick.
If it weren’t for Frank, she wouldn’t mind staying longer and playing this game with Elliot but she’s over it.
They’ve probably gone too far as it is.
When she gets back to the table, Elliot is pointing his finger toward Donnelly but she doesn't catch what he's saying. “What’s wrong, boys?”
“I just asked Elliot how it all happened. Because let's face it, Captain Benson, you’re a gorgeous woman now but I knew you back then, too…”
“He’s drunk,” Elliot explains, glaring hard at Donnelly. He reaches for Olivia’s hand to pull her to stand by his side.
“Just saying. She’s a looker.” Frank shrugs. “How long were you all at SVU? The worst fucking unit. I bet it was after a case. He’s got temper problems, ya know. He ever just grab you and kiss you?”
“No,” Olivia answers.
“Or were you two the type to plan it? To meet up in hotels? Did it happen by accident? C’mon, I’ve been asking all night.”
She’s insulted, probably a lot more than she should be. She’d agreed to this and she’d known people had formed opinions about her relationship with Elliot a long time ago. If it ever would’ve happened, she’d imagined it just like Donnelly said. In the middle of panic or after a case that hit too hard… but it never did happen that way and she’s done playing pretend for the night. “You know guys, I think I’m gonna head out.”
“Aww c’mon, Benson. Everyone knows. Even before he told me, everyone knew who and what you were to him.”
“And what was I to him?” Olivia asks.
Frank, still amused by his questioning, continues, “Aww, Captain. Don’t act like that.”
“My jacket,” Olivia requests, nudging Elliot’s shoulder.
Instead of getting up, he pulls at her hand, until she falls onto his lap, stretching his hand over her hip. “Calm down, Sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart?” Olivia nods and laughs softly under her breath. She throws Elliot's hand off of her and stands, in search of her own jacket.
Frank is laughing but he reaches for Olivia. Before he can she glares at him and Frank holds his hands up. “Aww Captain! I was kidding. He’s kidding. I’m sorry.”
She doesn’t let their pleas stop her. She quickly pulls on her long jacket and storms right out of the bar.
She’s almost to her car but Elliot calls her name and she spins around yelling, “What?”
He tries to slow down but he’s still walking, walking directly into her, easily forcing her backward as their lips collide in a rough kiss. The wind is blowing her hair around them and they’re clinging to each other, panting and moaning and still in motion until her back is up against the car.
She gets lost for a minute, letting Elliot suck and lick sensually at her lips.
Her fingers tighten against his jaw and she pushes him off of her until he stumbles back.
Over his shoulder, she sees Donnelly and the rest of the bar watching.
Her eyes quickly dart back to Elliot’s and she’s sorry. I’m sorry, she thinks, but he has to know it’s coming.
A second later her right hand flies right across his face.
“I am so sorry.” Olivia is home now, laying in bed and she'd been waiting patiently for his call all night. She'd left her ringer on loud and had answered on the first trill.
“Are you?” Elliot doesn't sound convinced.
“Yes," she rasps, though she probably could've and should've smacked him a long time ago. He deserved it.
“You hit like a girl, Benson."
“Screw you, Stabler."
They both laugh into their phones and when they quiet, Elliot makes sure to ask, “Are we good?”
“Yeah, we are… more than good.”
Elliot sighs, relieved. “Donnelly should be leaving you alone now for sure…”
“Good, good, good,” Olivia rattles. She's fine... mostly.
"Liv," he sings into the phone. She forgets how well he knows her. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I mean... yeah... "
"Talk to me. I don't know when we'll get to talk again. I'd hate to think I did something to upset you..."
"I'm not upset," she insists.
"Is it what Frank was saying? Look, that asshole thinks every man is screwing around on his wife because that's what he's doing..."
"But who and what am I to you, Elliot?"
"I don't know how to answer that," he starts stunned by her direct question.
She immediately gets defensive and annoyed that she'd even admitted that it bothered her. "You know what, Elliot-"
"You're not a who or a what, Olivia. You're it. You're everything."
Olivia nods and when her eyes begin to burn with tears, she clears her throat. “So what? Another month of this?”
“Hopefully. Promise me that when the case is over—“
“I promise,” Olivia declares confidently even before he’s finished his sentence. When she realizes what she’s done, laughing she continues, “sorry. What were you asking me?”
“I could’ve been saying anything,” he teases. “When this case is over, I want things to be different between us.”
Olivia scoffs. “Different? What's that mean?”
"I want to be able to kiss you like I kissed you tonight."
She grins at the very recent memory of it. "It was a great kiss, El."
"I'll be dreaming about doing it again. Good night, Liv."
"Be safe. Night."
It doesn’t take as long as they both think it will.
OCCB calls on SVU to assist with the kidnapping of a young girl days later and after working tirelessly side by side, they find the child traumatized but unharmed.
They’ve worked together before, but lately, it’s giving Benson and Stabler in their best years. Her one night under and then franticly racing against a clock to save a young child had reminded them both of all the cases they worked as partners.
Eleven years it’s been. Her thoughts completely overwhelm her and that kiss they shared is still fresh in her mind. It'd been in the back of her mind, the memory of how his body felt against hers and how his mouth tasted, and the sounds he made when she scratched his head. Her need is loud, at least that’s how it feels for her. She’s sure he must feel it, too. The tension.
It isn’t as easy as it used to be when he was married. Back then, she could play his wife and hold his hand and then when the op was over, she’d stuff all her attraction toward him away and continue on as if nothing at all happened.
But now… he is no longer married. A week ago, he’d touched her, held her on his lap, kissed her. And since that one phone call after, they haven’t addressed any of it. It’s been there though. Right there in between them more obvious than it’d ever been.
She’d actually considered jumping him at the crime scene.
Olivia takes a secret gander over at his profile. For the first time since he’s been back, there’s a lot less scrutiny behind her eyes. She’s just looking at him, at his bulging arm as he drives one handed and at the soft contented smile on his thin lips and his eyebrows, flat and relaxed. If she weren’t so tired, she’d probably talk him into stopping at a bar for celebratory drinks. She wants to stay in this happy place with him just like they used. They’d close cases together and sit at bars shoulder to shoulder and laugh and Olivia wants some version of that tonight.
The closer they get to her block, though, she realizes that it’s in a way they’ve never been allowed to before.
She doesn’t want to clink beers or recount the case, and she doesn’t want to be around anyone but him. He’d offered to drop her off himself. Their wins, just as usual, come at a cost and they’ve been overworked and are in need of rest after such a high stake case.
The car slows and Olivia realizes they are a lot closer to her apartment than she’d thought. She attempts to brush off the disappointment of having to part so soon as Elliot smoothly parallel parks at the hydrant just outside of her building. Her head rolls away from him and then back toward him, though her eyes are closed now.
The emotions bombard her out of nowhere and she remembers so vividly an Elliot decades younger, still with hair and a ring on his finger and small children and responsibilities a borough away. She remembers him being so concerned for her safety that he’d wait in his car until she flicked the lights on and off for him. He’d sit there waiting for proof so he could rest and that’d been love, she realizes. A year into their thirteen-year partnership and he’d been showing her so clearly.
A year ago, and she can kind of smile about it now, she’d thought the worst of him. He’d offered her a letter—
It chokes her up just thinking about it. She’d believed those words and she wonders now how she’d ever given them any merit at all when it’s all been in front of her this whole time.
Olivia sighs without meaning to just as Elliot speaks.
“Text me when you’re inside,” he tells her quietly. Blink your lights.
Olivia takes another deep breath before saying with a hint of levity in her voice, “Remember when you used to offer to walk me up?”
Her eyes finally flutter open to find him grinning, all straight teeth and a hint of dimples.
“I didn’t think you’d let me,” he whispers, voice scratchy. He’s probably just as exhausted as she is. Olivia’s eyes focus on the way he swipes his tongue over his lips and she knows instantly what she wants.
“Walk me up, Stabler,” she whispers, her hand slowly tentatively reaching for his hand. She slides her fingers into his hand and he accepts it, instantly rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, offering her a small barely there smile.
She’s tired. And they’re dirty. She’d been sweating under her vest when he helped her out of it and they are both in need of a shower.
It isn’t even totally about being sexual. It's about intimacy. They're not coming to each other out of need. She is just finally accepting the natural resolution of this moment together and simply, it is what she wants. It’s been twenty three years of longing and pining and they’ve finally come full circle.
Though she doesn’t show it, she’s actually giddy with excitement.
It’s not even a discussion. Elliot finds parking not too far and they trudge together side by side, their pace a lot slower than hours before. They enter her apartment together and before they make it all the way inside, Olivia insists they remove their shoes first. “Sit,” he tells her, toeing out of his own shoes quickly.
She sits on the entryway bench and he unzips each of her boots and lines them by the door next to his. He follows her to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. She takes a small sip before placing it down on the counter.
“We need a shower,” Olivia tells him tugging her black cotton shirt over her head. Underneath she is wearing a black tank top with thin straps. They share the water as they take turns stripping off their top layer of clothing. When Elliot is down to his undershirt, Olivia excuses herself.
She strips in the bathroom and climbs into the shower to wash her body quickly. She’s under the spray of the water, rinsing shampoo from her previously sweaty ponytail when she hears the bathroom ease door open. “You hungry?” Elliot asks.
“Yeah. I’ll make us sandwiches.”
“Hmm?” He must be right there outside of the shower and she’s tempted to ask him to join her. Instead, she says, “I missed working with you. I enjoyed it.”
“Me, too," Elliot agrees.
On the other side of the curtain, she's sudsy and it feels silly having a conversation like this and the smile on her face never wavers. "Didn't it feel like we were in a time machine?"
"Yeah, I've been feeling very nostalgic all week," he muses wistfully with her. "You about done in there?" he asks.
"Yeah. Pass my towel."
“Here.” Elliot is holding her towel for her when she peeks out of the shower to reach for it. A moment later, she pushes the curtain all the way open, revealing herself all wrapped up.
He kisses the edge of her wet hairline and she wants to kiss him so badly, but she also doesn’t wanna fuck him on her sink. “Your turn,” she whispers, leaving him in the bathroom alone.
Olivia goes directly to the kitchen and begins pulling out the ingredients for a sandwich. She’s scared that if she goes to her room and sees her bed, she won’t have the restraint to not get into it.
They need to eat anyway.
Aside from them never having sex, she feels completely invested in whatever is happening.
There’ll probably never be a casual relationship with them. They’ll probably never be the type of people who'll have an official conversation about it.
He meets her in the kitchen fifteen minutes later, rounding the corner dressed just like her in nothing but a towel. For him though, his towel is tied around his waist and his broad chest and shoulders are bare.
She’s sitting on the counter eating Noah’s crackers and Elliot walks right up to her, digging into the little pack of crackers to grab a handful to munch on as well. She’s made herself a turkey sandwich and him salami. His sandwich isn’t enough for him though so he raids all the snacks, opening a bag of potato chips and then one of Noah’s gogurts.
Ten minutes later as he’s cleaning the counter, Olivia asks, “You full?”
He helps her down off the counter and he follows her to her dark bedroom. He’s so busy not trying to fall that he isn’t paying attention to her at all.
“You got something for me to wear?” he asks, but when he turns, he finds that she’s already in the bed with the sheets up to her chest. Her shoulders are bare and her wet hair is in a ball on top of her head.
“Get in bed, Stabler.”
Elliot smiles and the towel drops from his waist to the floor.
She looks freely at his body as he takes his time pulling the comforter back to slides in with her.
They turn toward each other so that they’re face to face.
“You were awesome today," Olivia murmurs sleepily. She props herself up on her elbow and she reaches over to finally kiss him. She’s been waiting all night for it and slides her body over to him, lining his side with her front. Skin to skin.
"No. You were," he tosses back against her lips.
She pulls back, licking her lips before biting down on her lower one. “It's a lot more fun saying good night to you face to face like this."
One last kiss and she rests her head on his bare chest and they both fall asleep.
Olivia stirs first. She wakes up still on top of him. Her arm is fully wrapped around his waist and her head is still on his chest. Her thighs are split with one long leg in between his and the hand that’d been in her hair is now on her hip.
She lifts up, putting her weight on her arm, planting her hand just above his shoulder but before she can move, his eyes open. He smiles and wordlessly pulls her back down, turning them both on their sides so that her back is to his front. Their left hands thread together loosely but as soon as her bottom brushes the tops of his thighs he groans in her ear.
“Who’s idea was it to sleep naked?” he grumbles, voice deep with sleep.
She twists her head toward him and his eyes open again, this time slowly. She frowns, picks her head up, and asks, “you okay?”
“We’re naked,” he wails sleepily.
“You don’t have to tell me that.” God, does she know. She lies back down and this time he’s up and reaching for her jaw. He reaches down and kisses her lips once and then again and then he’s angling her jaw so he can swipe his tongue into her mouth.
For as close as they are, he’s got his hips drawn back away from her, but she’d just had her thigh over him and she’d felt him.
They move together. As he pushes forward, she scoots the remaining distance backward until she can feel the length of him against her ass. His nose runs up the back of her neck and her head falls back to give him all the room he needs to pepper her throat with kisses.
She reaches between her thighs to wrap her hand around his thick girth while tipping her hips backward, arching her back as deep as she can and she guides him toward her. His skin is soft and warm and he slips between her folds easily. She moans when he brushes over her clit and he groans when she positions him at her core. He nudges against her, applying gentle pressure, and then he is penetrating her slowly.
They stop breathing until he is all the way inside of her and then they exhale together. Relieved.
This isn’t out of passion or rage or aggression.
It isn’t premeditated or planned.
It isn’t in the middle of an undercover op.
They’re not distressed or destroyed or clinging to life.
There isn’t an ounce of panic as he slowly withdraws and then pushes forward again. His forehead drops to hers and they breathe together in sync with every push and pull of his hips.
“I can’t believe it’s taken us so long to finally do this,” she admits, looking up at him.
”We’ll make up for it,” is Elliot’s confident answer.
Elliot is surprisingly vocal behind her. He isn’t saying anything much, just moaning and whimpering right along with her, drunk off the feel of each other. He presses his fingertips against her clitoris as he continues sliding in and out of her. All he sees is the white of her eyes as they roll back from overstimulation.
When he speeds up, she lifts her leg a little higher and reaches back to grab his ass to assist him along. With a handful of her breast and a nose full of her shampoo, he fucks her deep and slow until she begs him finally to go faster.
He rolls them over so that he is straddling her thighs and when he starts rocking into her this way her body begins to lock around his. "Oh my God," she wails. She feels the stretch of him even more from this position.
"So good," he breathes against her shoulder. “You…”
”I what?” she asks, voice trembling.
”You feel so good.”
”You do too,” she pants. The deep throb of her sex has her reaching for handfuls of sheets and arching against him. “Yes!”
”I am going to come, Liv, please.” He is basically shaking behind her trying to hold out for her, trying not to come before her while still sliding every single rigid inch of him into her over and over.
“Inside of me,” she requests breathlessly. Her breasts are pushed against the mattress as she sticks her ass higher up for him.
Like this, is enough. Spasms quickly rock her body, throbbing all around him and with one last thrust, Elliot comes and he collapses right on top of her.
"Listen, sweetheart," Olivia says once he rolls off of her. "We have a lot of lost time to make up for. We're going to need to do that again."