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I’ll Hold You (for as long as you’d like)

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Chapter Two: My Stubborn Will is Learning to Bend


[ MANHATTAN | OLIVIA BENSON’S APARTMENT | 3:07 AM ]

Her sheet was pooled around her waist, the crack of her ass barely visible as her hair was released from the hair tie, her hands reached back, twisting the free curls that had been cascading down her back into a single strand as she tossed it over her shoulder. The fingers were wrapped around her side trailed down gripping within them the sheet that was moving slightly. Finally, fingers wrapped around the edge of the sheet and moved it up, as she leaned forward, the fingers on his other hand glided up her spine.

The sound of lips connecting, heavy breaths, and the bed moving against the wall filled the room.

How did we end up here? Her eyes are open as she looks into his bright blue eyes, and shining back at her, she sees everything she’d ever hoped for and then some.


…earlier
[ MANHATTAN | 16th PRECINCT | ROOF | 9:13 PM ]

“Me? You need me?” He asks, his blue eyes shining in the lights of the city on the roof that was theirs. Her head nodded quietly. “In – uh...” He ran his hand over the top of his bald head. He narrowed his eyes, glancing down at her. “You’re gonna have to help me out here, Liv, in what context?”

She suddenly feels very embarrassed that she even breathed those words into the universe a moment ago. But she’s also annoyed that after that kiss, and the way she’d prepared herself for this date, the dress she’s wearing that he’d have the audacity to ask in what context. Is he blind?

“I – Olivia, I gotta know just what context you’re talking about before  I misconstrue your words and uh…” He squints, looking out at the skyline. “Make a mistake that sends you running for the hills or causes you to throw me off the ledge of this building.” He laughs nervously.

“Elliot.” She’s quieter this time, looking up at him through her lashes.

He’s looking down at her, and his heart is beating against his chest and he feels like he’s going to be internally bruised, because it feels like all his veins have suddenly opened up and the blood rushing through is like a tsunami. He can hear it raging in his ears. He reaches for the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning the top button and as he reaches down to grab the knot of the tie, she grabs his hand, stopping him from undoing it. Her fingers edge under the knot of his tie as she loosens it, her lips slightly parted as she pulls the silky material out from under his collar. He’s watching her, as she lays it over her shoulders, smirking up at him.

“Liv?”

“I just need you.” She’s more confident this time, as she looks up into his eyes. “I didn’t think an elaborate explanation would be necessary.” She shrugs, smacking his face with the tipping of the piece of neckwear a smirk on her face.

“Well, - okay then.” He shrugs. “So, what now?”

She reaches down, grabbing a fry from the container and popping it in her mouth. He moves forward again, this time tangling his fingers through her hair and tilting her face up toward him, thumb resting just below her bottom lip. As their faces move closer together, she inhales sharply, wrapping her arm around his neck and pulling him down into her. Someone moans, neither knows exactly who it was that moaned, but someone did. Or maybe, maybe it was both of them.

She takes a step backwards and finds herself pressed against the brick of the stairway, his hands still tangled in her hair, their tongues sliding against one another. He tastes the salt from the fries on the skin of her lips and she can taste him. His hips move slightly as she feels him against her – rigid. Solid.

As he pulls back, she feels embarrassed that she’s making out with her former partner on the roof that they’d argued, admitted things to one another, escaped together to – and she feels the laugh bubble up from her stomach until it comes out and she closes her eyes, allowing it to fill the air. His smile spreads over his face as he watches her, watches the way her nose crinkles slightly, watches the way tears form at the corner of her eyes.

His fingers move up as he swipes the stray tears away from her cheeks.

“You look beautiful when you laugh.” Elliot smiles down at her. “You’re beautiful all the time, but – when you laugh…” He’s looking down at her, and she sees nothing but happiness reflected in the ocean-blue eyes. It had been so long since she’d seen him smile like this. She sighs, her fingers wrapped around the lapel of his jacket now, not an inch of space between the rest of their bodies. “You make other people happy.” He whispers.

“Elliot, maybe I do want to go home.” She snakes her hand up around the back of his head, scratching the skin on his neck. “But I want you to come with me.” She’s looking into his eyes and he’s not sure he’s heard her correctly.

“What about – “

“Not at home tonight.” She answers, a sly smile on her face. “I called in a favor.” She shrugs. “So, I’m asking you if you would like to come home with me?”

He’s pretty sure he’s actually dead.


[ MANHATTAN | 9:34 pm ]

They’re driving to her building.

He’s driving to her building. His hand in hers, and she’s got her head tilted against the headrest, staring at him, a closed-lipped smile on her face.

As soon as they pull into the parking space she’s pointed out, he’s running around to her side, helping her out and his hand is resting against her lower back. She greets the doorman, who gives Elliot a look and as the elevator door closes he looks down at her.

“I don’t think your doorman likes me very much.”

“You were drugged the last time you came over, Elliot. He doesn’t have any reason to like you.” She shrugs, nonchalantly before she spins around, pressing his back into the wall of the elevator, resting her hand on the side of his face. Elliot finds himself laughing, because if there’s one thing she’s always been good at, it’s pointing out the obvious. He should’ve known.

“I didn’t realize that was the same doorman.”

“They’re on a pretty set schedule. That’s Manuel. He’s the night guy. Sometimes, Jim is the night guy, but Manuel was the one who was on the night you – stumbled to my apartment.”

“I’ll send him an apology fruit basket.” Elliot mumbles, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. She laughs, tucking her hand into his pocket.


[ MANHATTAN | Olivia’s Apartment | 10:00 PM ]

They barely made it through the door before she’d helped him out of his jacket, hanging it on the coat hook, her own going next to it a moment later. True, she could’ve just pushed it onto the ground, but she was trying to keep things neat and tidy in her living space.

Did she want to just strip it all off and say fuck it? Absolutely.

Was she going to? No. Not yet, anyway. She knew asking him to come back would lead to something. She just wasn’t sure what that something was, exactly. As she kicked off her heels, (by the door, instead of in her room where she should’ve kicked them off), he smiled down at her. Taking her in and appreciating her dress even more now that there wasn’t a large coat covering most of her body. Hiding those curves that time had blessed her with.

His lip was tucked between his bottom row of teeth and his top teeth as he placed his hands on her waist, calling her name gently as she moved into him, standing now on her toes as his mouth captured hers in a slow, sensual kiss.

As they pulled apart again she hummed.

“Hey, may I use the bathroom?” He smiles down at her and she rolls her eyes, nodding.

“Yeah, it’s down the hallway on the left.” She tells him.

“Thanks.” he smiles, giving her a gentle kiss as he disappears around the corner. She leans back against the wall between the living room and the entrance to the kitchen, closing her eyes and allowing her head to rest against the photo hanging on the drywall. When she hears the door open to the bathroom she decides to keep her eyes closed, hands behind her on her lower back, palms resting there gently. She jumps slightly when his hand wraps around her arm – in the same place he’d always held her arm.

She opens her eyes to see him standing there with a package of make-up removal wipes in his hand.

“El?”

“Hear me out.” He begins, running his teeth over his top lip. Her brow quirks slightly. “I think you look beautiful with the make-up on, but – Liv – I think you look even more beautiful with nothing on your face. I wanna see your face – your real face, and not this painted face you thought I’d love. I wanna see all the freckles, lines, - everything.” His brows raise and she watches the wrinkle between his brows form. Sighing, she reaches up and grabs the wipes out of his hand, stepping around him and walking down the hall to the bathroom. He follows after her, and when she steps in front of the mirror, he watches as she bites down on her lip and turns one more time to look at him, as though she’s asking if he’s sure this is what he actually wants.

“Elliot, are you sure this is – “

“Yeah. I really want you to wipe it all off. I wanna see you. All of you, Liv.” He steps into the room behind her, placing his hands on her upper arms as she nods. She reaches forward to grab the large claw clip that was hanging off of the towel next to the sink and twists her hair back, securing it. She turns on the water, and he watches as she cups her hands, splashing her face gently, reaching for the washcloth sitting next to the sink and blotting her face with it.

He opens the make-up remover wipes and takes one out, and as she turns to look at him, he guides her onto the closed toilet seat, gently wiping away the residual make-up that didn’t rinse off.

She sits there, staring at him as he gently wipes her face, revealing her freckles. She almost starts crying with how gentle he’s being – no one has ever helped her with this. As soon as he’s used two or three, and he’s satisfied with her bare face, he reaches back, grabbing the clip and undoing it, allowing her dark wavy hair to fall down her back.

His hands reach forward, cupping her face as he runs his thumbs along her cheeks.

“Hey.” He smiles up at her, his eyes slightly watery. “You know, you are a very beautiful woman, Olivia Benson.” He began, sitting crouched down on the balls of his feet looking up at her, with her brown hair falling down over her shoulders, still wearing that dress that he just wanted to take off of her.

At the moment, he wasn’t drinking in the way her cleavage was exposed, he wasn’t paying any attention to the way he was between her legs, or the way her knees were hugging his ribs. None of that seemed to matter, because their eyes were connected, and inside of her dark eyes he saw an abyss. One that might scare anyone else, but he knew, down in the depths of that abyss was a fire raging, and it was warm, comfortable, and felt like home.

Elliot.”

She’s staring down into his eyes, and within them she sees sleepy mornings, the third cup of coffee back in the leaky squad room, stale donuts on a two-day stake out, laughter over Chinese take-out, plates and plates of shared food, a glass of orange juice, a hundred times he told her to blink her lights and when she slams her eyes closed, she remembers the one time he didn’t ask her to. When she opens her eyes again, they’re stinging – and he’s just looking up at her, like she’s holy, like she’s a saint, like she could be his savior.

She barely knows how to function most days, but here he is, down in front of her, between her legs, and he’s looking at her like she’s hung all the fuckin’ stars in the sky. Her eyes dart down to his lips and then back to those eyes that feel like oceans, and night skies, and clear days, and hope.

Jesus, there’s so much hope there. It steals her breath away and she can’t fuckin’ think staring into his eyes. So, she does the only thing she can think of, she launches herself off the toilet seat and into his arms, her nose resting against his neck and her own arms squeezing him, as though she’s afraid he’ll just disappear and – she has to know.

Her knees are on either side of his muscular thighs and Jesus, it’s the way they fit together so seamlessly it almost scares her. But he’s steady. He’s holding the two of them up and then he lowers himself down onto the floor of her bathroom, down onto the mat in front of the sink, and his nose is in her hair and he’s hanging onto her like he’s afraid she’s a hallucination. When she turns her face and feels her pull back, their lips connect again and she’s pressing his body backwards, supine on the floor of her bathroom, and his hands are resting on her thighs which are slowly becoming exposed because her dress is riding up.

“Wait.” He speaks against her lips. She pulls back, a confused expression on her face, cheeks flushed. “If we’re going to do this, I don’t wanna do it on your bathroom floor, Olivia.” And she suddenly realizes where she’s sitting, the way she’s hovering over his pelvis dangerously, how her dress is riding up, the way her hair is brushing into his face and her eyes slam shut again – what the fuck is wrong with her. But holy hell, his abs are something to be marveled at, - she can feel them beneath his vest, beneath his shirt – she needs him to take it all off. She needs him.

She bites down on her bottom lip, nodding before she opens her eyes to meet his again. He’s grinning at her.

Sonofabitch.


[ Olivia’s Apartment | 10:34 PM ]

Somehow, she’d managed to turn around and push herself off of the floor of the bathroom, and had reached down, lifting him up. They’d instantly become lip-locked and somehow, she’d guided them into the bedroom, laughing as he toed off his shoes along the way, they were now in front of her dresser and her fingers had worked rather quickly at taking off that damn vest – that made her hot – she wasn’t going to lie, his new look he’d picked up in Europe was – thank you, God.

As his lips moved from her mouth, he kissed his way down her jaw, and she felt the warmth of his body encase hers as she’d been gently put down on her bed. She needed out of the dress, - she needed out of the dress. His hands were roaming, exploring – and damnit she wanted him to explore all her curves – time hadn’t given them to her for someone to just ignore, after all – but right now? She just wanted him. She wanted to feel the weight of his body pressing hers into the mattress, she wanted to know what it was like to wrap her leg around his thighs, she wanted to feel their bodies finally connect after all those years of wondering, of wanting, of wishing, of hoping and praying that she could have him. When he was never hers to have at all.

But now, he was here, and his tongue was tracing the valley between her breasts and Jesus. Her whole body felt like it was on fire.  He was making her feel alive while simultaneously bursting into flames.

She needed everything from this man.

She needed his promises. She needed his reassurances. She needed his past, present, and all their futures. She needed him in this universe. She’d always needed him in this universe. She needed his protection, his safety, his comfort. She needed him to know that it had always been him. Her hands push his shoulders as he pulls back, confused, his pupils pretty far blown, - she’d like to think that hers were the same way.

“What’s wrong?”

“Elliot – I need you to know – “ She swallows. “If this happens – “

“I know. Damnit,” he hangs his head as his nose brushes against her cheek. “I know. I’m scared shitless – and you’re a goddess and – I know, Olivia. I do.” When he looks back up she places her hands on either side of his face, bringing their foreheads together as she looks up at him through her own blown pupils. His fingers trace the shadow of her breasts as he licks his bottom lip. “I know you have no reason to believe me when I say this – but – Olivia, you have to believe me…you’re – ten million times the type of woman that I don’t deserve, and I probably never will – but – this? Us?”

She nods. She can’t find the words she wants to say – and damnit, he’s not that great with his words either. But, in all honesty, it’s never been about the words they say – No, it’s always been about the things they don’t say. The conversations they have with their eyes, and as they find themselves in this moment, staring into one another’s eyes – into one another’s souls – they feel the shift happen between them. A million conversations they probably should have – a million warnings that she wants to issue to him – but looking in his eyes now, she knows unequivocally that he knows.

“I’m – I’m not like you remember, Elliot.” She whispers, her fingernails scratching his scalp lightly. “I’ve changed in a lot of ways.”

“Olivia, I know we’re not in our early 40s anymore…time changes people.” He laughs, placing a gentle kiss just below her ear. She bites down on her lip as her back arches, breasts pressing into his chest.

“That’s not what – You know what, it’s good. Just – Elliot, get this damn dress off of me.” She whispers, laughing as he smiles down at her, nodding as though she’s just given an order and he lives to serve.


[ 11:24 pm ]

Who knew the altar boy could use his damn mouth?

She was covering her mouth with her arm, teeth biting into the flesh as his tongue made small circles around her clit.

“C’mon.” He pulls back, “Don’t hold back – I wanna hear you.” That damn smile of his. She could die, right here – right now – because what he’s doing is beyond anything she could’ve ever imagined. Then, it happens, his tongue delves back into her and she grips the sheets with her fists, back arching into his ministrations.

Fuck.” She whispers. He pulls back, and she sees his chin glistening with her juices and his saliva and shit she wants him. She definitely wants him – in her.

His fingers trace up and down her slit, spreading her arousal around as he pushes one finger in, curling it slightly as he goes to pull out. Then, before he pushes it back into her, he adds that second finger and her legs start to move. He makes a tutting noise, looking up at her, her legs thrown over his shoulders as he goes back in to suck on her clit.

“Jesus – fu – Elliot. I need – “ She’s practically panting.

He pulls back, a shit-eating grin on his fucking face and she wants to slap it off. “What do you need?”

“I need you…Elliot, I want you.

He laughs.

Bastard.

“You’re getting me, Olivia.” He smirks, fingers pumping in and out as his hand rests just below her belly button, between her hips, right over her pelvic mound.

“No, I need – “ She’s whining. And it makes him feel – all sorts of ways – when they’d finally managed to get rid of most of their clothes – alright, ALL their clothes – there’d been a moment of quiet appraisal where she’d cocked her head to the side, looking down at what she’d be working with and her brow had raised as she muttered a quiet ‘Not bad, Stabler.’ to him. When she’d been bared for him – when she lay back on her bed and he’d lifted her legs above his shoulders, he’d smiled, - whispering, ‘You’re fuckin’ perfect, Benson.’. And that – that was how they’d somehow found themselves here.

“What do you need. C’mon. I need you to tell me.” His fingers curl against her and she whimpers again, smacking the bed with her had.

“Fuck you, I need your cock.” She finally bites out and he smirks as he moves up the bed, kissing, nipping, sucking on her skin, tongue tracing over her scars as though they don’t even exist. She knows maybe one day he’ll ask about them, and maybe one day she’ll tell him the stories, - but right now – he’s just worshipping her.

We’re not our skin, Olivia. We’re souls inside of our skin, don’t hide from me. Please.’

His words echoed in her mind. The moment he’d seen the scars on her breasts, she’d tried to cover them, but he’d wrapped his lips around her nipples – teasing, sucking, tasting and damn, - she wanted him to go back to that because it was almost too much.

So many times, he’s brought her close to the edge but then backed off – switched gears. She thinks he’s just trying to figure them out.

He’s got a pretty good handle on things, in her opinion.


[ 11:37 pm]

His body is on top of her, and her hand is between them, guiding him between her folds, rubbing, feeling the smoothness of their most intimate parts touching she’s almost breathless. She’d asked for this, and he’d taken his time moving up her body – he’d teased her a little bit with the head of his cock into her folds, pressing at her entrance but not pressing forward. She’d whined, begged, pleaded, and he’d looked down at her, shaking his head and smiling as he pulled back as she pushed forward. He was enjoying this far too much.

She was losing patience.

“Elliot. I want you to make love to me…” She was getting exhausted with this – she wanted him, she wanted him so much she could cry. He stopped, grabbing her hand and placing it on her lower stomach as he gripped himself and slowly, very slowly, guided himself into her. As his hips pressed down into her, she felt him sliding in and her eyes rolled back as her leg wrapped around his thighs.

With a groan, she rolled her hips at the same time he did. As he looked down their bodies at where they were connected they both felt the air in the room dissipate.

Shit.” They both whispered at the same time, their eyes connecting. With one final gentle kiss, he buried himself inside of her and she took all he had to give. All he had to offer. Her leg tightened around his body as her hands pressed into his lower back. Home.

It was hard to believe that they had actually been on their first date this evening. Hell, it was hard to believe that they’d just had their first kiss this evening. But – she supposed – as he pulled out and then gently urged himself forward, giving her time to adjust to his size, to them connected – that this was inevitable.

In every parallel universe, she thought – it had damn well better be them.

She would definitely feel the burn in her thighs tomorrow, she’d feel the bruises of his hands on her sides, inner thighs, she’d want him – she knew – without a doubt like this, naked, uninhibited, raw – for the rest of her life. As they moved together, she thought it was almost like drifting out to sea – but she found she wasn’t scared of the waves, of the undertow, of the fear of drowning. She had him. And he had her – and this – this was all that would ever matter.


[ 12:04 am ]

“I had a really nice night, Elliot.” She lay there, her hand resting over his heart feeling the beating against her palm. Her sheets were crumbled, her room smelled like sex, and she felt at home. His fingers were tracing small patterns on her side, and she felt like falling asleep with him right there, with her leg tossed over his legs. With hair splayed over her pillow.

“Stay, El.” She whispers.


[ 2:30 am]

He’s the first one to wake up, after a nap.

She’s making small noises and as he kisses her forehead, she smiles in her sleep. “I love you, Olivia.” He whispers to her, thinking she’s sleeping. Her eyes open slowly as she presses herself up, lays herself on top of him and he feels himself suddenly becoming aware of how very naked they were still. As she looks down at him, the smile spreads on her face and her hands trail up and down his chest as she presses herself there, into him – their lips lazily meeting and moving against one another.


[ MANHATTAN | OLIVIA BENSON’S APARTMENT | 3:07 AM ]

Her sheet was pooled around her waist, the crack of her ass barely visible as her hair was released from the hair tie, her hands reached back, twisting the free curls that had been cascading down her back into a single strand as she tossed it over her shoulder. The fingers were wrapped around her side trailed down gripping within them the sheet that was moving slightly. Finally, fingers wrapped around the edge of the sheet and moved it up, as she leaned forward, the fingers on his other hand glided up her spine.

The sound of lips connecting, heavy breaths, and the bed moving against the wall filled the room.

How did we end up here? Her eyes are open as she looks into his bright blue eyes, and shining back at her, she sees everything she’d ever hoped for and then some, because he’s giving her that look again.

His hands are firm against her back as she moves with him in her – it’s languid, sensual, and she’s never felt more complete in all her life.

“I love you too.” She whispers as he allows her to set the pace.

As their hands connect up by his head, he notices something on her finger. Something he’s not seen in years. “Liv? When did you put – “

“Shh. Keep making love to me.”


[ 3:30 AM ]

“I never stopped hoping…you know.” she whispers to him in the dark, her hands tucked under her chin. “That you’d come back – I told myself that I’d uh…not allow you in as deep as you’d been before – but – I’m kind of glad that I don’t listen to myself all the time.”

“I’m glad you don’t listen to yourself too, Benson.” He traces small trails up and down her back, his other hand clasping her left hand – a familiar square cut diamond ring on her finger. “Now, about this?

“I couldn’t let them get rid of it – it was ours.” She whispers into the dark.

“You know, - all you gotta do is ask and I’d say yes.” He tells her.

“I don’t have to ask. I already know, Elliot. But – let’s take this slow, and let’s not tell anyone about this? For now? I’ll put it back in the morning..just – let me have this for a little longer.”

“You can have it for as long as you want. I’ll hold you for as long as you let me. Just like I’ll love you for as long as you let me.” He kisses her forehead. “So – how was this date? Scale of 1-10?”

“Infinity.” She mumbles, before he hears her soft snores and allows himself to succumb to sleep as well.