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

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[ MANHATTAN || 5:35 PM ]

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

She placed the makeup brush back down into her bag on the edge of the sink as she reached for the lotion that sat in the corner, dispensing a little bit over her hands, rubbing it in. With a deep breath she surveyed her reflection in the mirror, brows furrowing slightly as she leaned forward, fingertips tracing a laugh line a little sadly. She has a lump in her throat as she leans back, turning to the side, pressing the towel she’s wearing around her body against her skin.

She’s older now.

More mature.

She’s confident. 

But she’s nervous. So undeniably nervous.

Today alone, she’d managed to not only pull out her phone and almost cancel the plans that had been decided upon for two weeks now over a half-a-dozen times, but she’d also spilled her coffee on her pants, having to sidle off and change into the spare pair she kept in the bottom of her desk – she’d spilled her tea on her shirt, having to utilize the spare in the bottom drawer. (She now had to remember to take spares of everything and put them in the bottom drawer). She’d bounced her leg in the meetings at One PP, bounced her leg in her office (bumping her knee against the underside of the desk), bounced her leg nervously again in the SUV on the way to arrest a suspect with Fin.

Fin hadn’t made things any easier, he’d tried, bless him, to figure out what the hell was making her so nervous that after she’d spilled the tea on her blouse he’d sent her home at 4:15 pm. He’d asked her about a dozen times what the hell had her so nervous and she’d shaken her head, looking at him from the corner of her eyes, head tilted and a heavy sigh.

“It’s the time of year.”  She’d said to him. 

She doesn’t think he really bought that excuse, but seeing what an absolute nervous wreck she was, he’d still told her to go home, relax, chill the hell out. Told her he’d only call if the precinct was burning down, and even then, he’d try to put the damn fire out himself before bugging her.

On the way home, she’d been secretly relieved that her Sergeant was capable of running the place without her. As much as it pained her to think about, she knew she could leave it and he’d take care of it. Take care of things the way they ought to be taken care of.

So, here she stands, after a shower, staring at herself in the mirror. Her make-up all situated like she hasn’t done it for a couple of months and she had to do her hair now. She wanted to cry, but knew her mascara and eyeliner would run, so she bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath.

“You’re a big girl, you can do this, Olivia.” She whispered to herself in the mirror.

[ Meanwhile, across the bridge || 5:35 PM ]

“Elliot! What the hell could you possibly be doing in the bathroom? It’s not like you have any hair to brush anymore.” Bernadette Stabler was never one for beating around the bush.

He was standing there, his hands braced on the edge of the counter, on the verge of a panic attack. He knew this was bound to be an experience in itself and he’d had to pinch himself a couple hundred times since he’d asked two weeks ago if she’d be willing to go out on a date with him. He doesn’t know why he’d asked, every single time he’d asked in the recent months, she’d said no. She’d said she can’t. She’d said…how about we wait. She’d used the fact that he’d been undercover to put off a million different dates or times he’d asked to meet to catch up or just talk. Then, on accident he’d bumped into her and her son on Mother’s Day.

A week later, she’d accepted his invitation to go out. Just the two of them. He’d asked her to dinner. He’d stumbled over his words a billion times before the words actually came out of his mouth, but once they had, he’d clenched his eyes closed, afraid to see her brown eyes as she turned him down for the hundredth time, and in the back of his mind, he’d whispered to himself that he deserved to be turned down by her.

That if she chose to never speak to him again, it was nothing short of what he deserved after he’d abandoned her ten years ago. Despite that he’d thought he was doing her a favor. Allowing her to spread her wings. Allowing her the space she needed to soar, like he always knew she would.

It hurt, every single day, cutting her out.

He doesn’t know when he realized that that protectiveness had turned into love.

He doesn’t know when exactly he’d realized that he’d been so afraid to lose her that he’d lost her by trying to let her go. He couldn’t have done that to his kids, to his wife. He had made vows and a promise, and to go against that would’ve been  - uncharacteristic of him. She would’ve never allowed it.

But, he’d finally pulled the metaphorical trigger and asked her, just her – and she’d said…yes

All day long, he’d been nervous about it, because this date would determine a lot of things. It would determine how the hell they approached one another now, - now that there weren’t things like partnerships and job restrictions between them. They were just two people who worked in one Government Agency together in different fields. They were a single woman and a widowed man who had met, spoken, and agreed to go on a date together.

He wanted to get this date right, because he wanted there to be many more dates. Hell, he wanted this date to go right because whether or not he’d wanted to admit it back then, he’d always been a little bit in love with Olivia Benson. He could just act upon that now.

He opened the bathroom door, his bright blue eyes meeting with those of his mother, who stood with her arms crossed in front of her, chuckling because the look of horror on his face spoke volumes as to the anxiety that was rolling through his veins.

“Elliot, relax, you already know one another.” Bernadette offered, shaking her head and patting her son on the arm. “Go finish getting dressed and go pick up her favorite flowers, assuming that you remember what those were.”

“Wouldn’t forget Mama, I couldn’t.” He mumbles, shuffling through the living room and to his bedroom where he closes the door quietly behind him.

Hopeless.” Bernadette shakes her head.

[ Manhattan || 6:00 ]

Finally putting the finishing touches on her hair she walks to the bedroom, staring down at the dress she’d lain out on her bed. Is this insane? This wanting to go on a date with her former partner? What the hell was she thinking?

Is this right? There’s still so many conversations they haven’t had yet.

But maybe, in the grand scheme of things, those conversations didn’t have to all happen right away. Maybe this was the step that made the most sense. Maybe twenty-some-odd years of back and forth, of waiting with hope and then losing all that hope at the hands of a psychopath – maybe conversations weren’t really necessary. Maybe everything that had to be said could be said in time. It’s not like – well, they had less time than they would’ve had years and years ago, but they still had time.

She sits down on the bed next to the dress, looking down at it.

Her hands trail over the material as she bites down on her bottom lip, zoning out a little in the process. Her heart was racing in her chest and she can’t remember ever ever being this nervous about a potential date. Not even when they would go undercover as a couple had she ever been this nervous.

That’s because there was a badge and a wedding band on his finger that wasn’t yours.

She swallows, closing her eyes and thinking about the diamond ring that sat in the top drawer of her dresser even to this day. A ring that she’d never been able to get rid of. A ring that she’d saved from being gotten rid of when they’d been going through all the things the Precinct had purchased over the years. The ring, it was her ring. It was their ring. It fit her finger, and they’d have to pry it from her cold dead hand.

She opens her eyes staring over at the drawer and then back down to the dress.

This was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. This was Elliot. She’d spent hours and hours with this man back when they were partners. They’d never had a problem talking, it was amazing that they were having problems talking now.

He left you, Olivia.

She swallows the thought down.

Who cares, he came back firstly for you, Olivia, and now he’s back and asking you out, he’s choosing to pursue you…

Her heart beats stronger in her chest as she thinks about the way he’d looked at her before Christmas when he’d asked her and Noah to his family party. The way his eyes had looked her over, the way he’d licked his lips and told her to just come.  

She blinks a few times, reaching down to grab the red dress to slide on.

[ MANHATTAN || 6:45 PM ]

He sent her a text when he pulled up to the curb outside her apartment to let her know he was there and he’d be up in about five minutes. At 6:50 pm, he knocked on her front door and when she opened the door, she was greeted with a bouquet of flowers in his hands, his bright blue eyes shining as he took in the outfit she was wearing.


“Wow?” She looks at him, shaking her head and laughing as she points to the bouquet of flowers. “Those for me?”

“Oh, yeah…sorry, but looking at them compared to – just wow.” He smiles. She rolls her eyes, stepping forward to take her favorite blooms out of his hand and she walks back into the apartment, to the kitchen, filling up a vase and dropping them in so they don’t wilt while she and Elliot go out on…a date.

He offers her his arm, quietly, and together they walk out of the apartment.

The entire time, she can feel her entire body practically vibrating with some unknown form of anxiety she’s never felt before. Whatever she thought was going on earlier in the morning, throughout the day, it was nothing compared to the visceral reaction she was having just being next to him. Even taking deep, steady breaths in and out wasn’t helping at all.

He walks her to the elevator and they both stand there, side-by-side in the elevator she steels a look at him from the side of her eyes. He looks down at her, barely though, because she’s wearing a pair of high heels next to him and it brings her up a few inches. He’s still taller than her, but not by much. She leans into his side, and he smiles, without speaking a word. When the elevator stops on one of the lower levels and two women get in having a full conversation they smile politely at the two of them then go back to their conversation. She takes this moment to glance up at him and blink a few times.

Her thoughts are running rampant. She wishes they would all slow down and shut up.

Is this really happening? What if it goes wrong? What if – what if they’ve both built this up to something and they find out they can’t function like that? Oh God, what if she’s been in love with him for all these years and it isn’t – her eyes widen. Fuck. She’s so stupid. She clenches her eyes tight as the doors open to the ground floor and he’s guiding her out, his hand on her lower back as she clutches her bag under her arm more tightly.

“You look beautiful, by the way. I know I kind of messed it all up upstairs, but – you look breathtaking.” He whispers, leaning down near her ear. She relaxes a little bit.

Okay, so she’s still worried about it all going sideways, but – he’s starting out on the right foot, complimenting her – especially after she’d spent all that time getting ready. He opens the door for her, helping her into the SUV and smiling as she slides into the seat, crossing her ankles in front of her, turning her face and smiling gently. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest.

What the hell is he thinking, he’s really not worthy of her attention. In all the years he’d known her and they’d been partners, he’d been a jealous asshole of every man who’d ever taken her out – looking as beautiful as she had every single time…and he’d wondered if in a parallel universe, he could be that lucky bastard. Now, here he was, walking around the front of the truck and opening the driver’s side door, sliding into the seat to go out to eat at an Italian Restaurant with the woman he thought he’d never get a chance to take out on a date.

It shouldn’t be hard, right? They both are thinking.

It’s ridiculous that they’re both this nervous, each of them can’t help but think about all the times they’ve gotten food together back then,- but that was different, they weren’t dressed up, didn’t take extra time getting ready, and they – they had no expectations. Maybe that’s what was scaring them both shitless. The fact that neither of them knew what to expect from this date.

He drives a couple of blocks before turning to look at her in the seat, he sees her foot moving back and forth and realizes that she’s just as nervous as he is.

[ Manhattan | SAPORI D’ITALIA | 7:10 PM ]

Elliot smiles at her as she thanks the server for the glass of red wine that Camryn had just poured her.

“They are so nice.” She whispers, taking a sip. “This is a nice restaurant, Elliot.” She glances at him over the rim of her glass, he thanks their server too, then follows suit the same as Olivia.  

“Thanks for uh, agreeing to go out with me this evening.”

“I figured…it was time to say the hell with it. Take a leap.” She smiles at him, their eyes shining as they lock with one another. It’s always left the both of them breathless, the silent conversations that they have between themselves.

‘We’re out of our depth here, Liv. I don’t know what the hell I’m doin’.’

‘God, please don’t hurt me, Elliot. I only agreed to this because I’m tired of denying whatever this is between us. Twenty-four years of deny, deny, deny – it gets tiring.’

“Take a leap.” He agrees, smiling at her over his hands which are clasped in a fist as he takes note of the way she’s done her make-up. It’s soft, feminine. She doesn’t look a thing like the woman he’d worked next to all those years ago. “That’s uh…” He frowns.

Shit. She thinks, looking at him, her hands folded in her lap as they wait on their appetizer, Camryn had put the bowl of breadsticks in the middle of the table and the candle burning next to the bowl was slowly flickering. Olivia’s eyes traveled over to the flame, licking at the air and she fought the urge to run away. What the hell are they doing? How many times is she going to ask herself this this evening?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, El.” She whispers, reaching forward, placing her hand on his arm, right over where she knows his Marine tattoo sits embedded in his skin. He chuckles, a nervous chuckle, she notes.

God, we’re a hot mess. She thinks.

“I know – I just…” he looks around, nervously. She does the same thing. “Can I tell you something without you thinking that I’m totally crazy?”

“I think we’re a little bit beyond my thinking you’re crazy, Elliot. Let’s be frank here.” She deadpans. He looks down at her hand resting on his arm and places his other hand over hers, lacing their fingers together as he removes her hand from his arm. She looks into his blue eyes, as Camryn is making their way back over to the table.

“You guys ready to order yet?” they ask. Elliot smiles up at them. Olivia just stares at him.

“Actually, Camryn. Can we just – have a few more minutes?” He inquires. Camryn takes a deep breath, running their hand through their short hair, nodding quietly. “Thank you.” Elliot smiles. Olivia wants to laugh, because if there’s something Elliot is good at, it’s communicating with the younger generations. She’s seen the way he deals with Jet, witnessed how he talks to his kids. He’s good with most younger kids. They seem to love him, which is why she was scared to allow Noah around him until she was sure that he was going to be around for a while. “Do you think we’re making a mistake?”

When he asks this, she feels her heart plummet into her feet. If they were on the second floor, she would think it plummeted down through the subway. She swallows and looks out the window, mouth opening and closing a few times. No. No! We’re not. I don’t think we are.

“What do you mean, Elliot?” She asks, hoping he’ll clarify.

“I meant, dressing up, coming to a fancy Italian restaurant. That’s – I mean, do you feel comfortable?” He looks at her with those bright blue eyes and those bushy eyebrows she wants to attack with a tweezer, and his smile is kind, gentle, and he looks worried. Like he’s afraid she is going to say it’s a mistake trying to go on a date with him. It’s not a mistake, dating Elliot. She knows it’s not. “Liv?”

She smiles at him, taking another sip of her wine as she looks down at their fingers. It feels right, their hands clasped like this for the hundredth time in so many months.

She’d gone on a few dates with people she thought she had chemistry with – and the dates had been nice, but – at the end of the night, she’d elected to go to bed by herself. When they’d kissed her, she wondered what was missing from it. She’d not sat around waiting on Elliot, hell, she’d had two long-term relationships and one that had looked promising until – it failed due to job conflicts and her hesitancy to disclose.

She looks around the restaurant at all the other couples, and then she turns back to his face. He’s staring, expecting an answer. Does she want this to be them? Maybe. But is it really them?

“No.” She answers, her brown eyes shining in the dim candlelight. “I mean, do I love Italian food? Yeah. But – I feel like…”

“We’re out of our depths here, right?” He finishes her sentence and she leans back, smiling at him. The few loose tendrils of her hair falling down next to her face.

“Yeah. It’s just – it doesn’t feel like us, Elliot.” She exhales. His smile doesn’t slide off of his face, and the fact that he’s still looking at her with a grin on his face – it makes her feel better about everything. Does she want their dates to be romantic? Maybe eventually. But this date? Is it them? Are they being ridiculous?

“What do you want, Olivia?”

“I want something that feels more our speed, El. I mean-“

“I think I know what you mean.” He smiles, motioning for Camryn. “We’ll actually take the check for our drinks and I’ll leave you a nice tip – but uh – we’re going to go.” He smiles at their server who just smirks, bringing up their bill and pointing to the tablet where Elliot signs after Camryn swipes the card. “Let’s get out of here – “ he holds his hand out and Olivia takes it, smiling at their server mouthing ‘Thank you’ as she follows behind Elliot.

He leads her to the truck, helping her slide on in as she laughs, because now, he seems so much more relaxed. When he gets in his side of the vehicle and turns it on, he looks over at her. “Close your eyes, ‘Livia.” He mumbles and she shakes her head no.

“If you don’t close your eyes, I’m going to have to take my tie off and tie it around your head so you can’t see where we’re going.” He warns, and she momentarily panics internally because he doesn’t know that she doesn’t like to not know where she’s going in vehicles. That she hates having her eyes covered like that. It’s a conversation she doesn’t feel like having with him tonight, so she does, placing her hands over her eyes. “That’s right. I knew you’d listen to me.” He’s pretty pleased with himself and she can hear it in his voice.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You like how ridiculous I am.” He counters and she pouts a little, shrugging, because he’s not wrong. She does love how ridiculous he is sometimes. She likes how he can find humor in the smallest things, how he can make her laugh with the stupidest things he does and says. The way he reminds her of the person she used to be, before he left.

“Elliot, can I ask you something?” She voices, unable to see him, - maybe this is what she needs.

“You can ask me anything you want to, Olivia.” He informs her. She nods quietly, eyes still covered.

“Do you – do you know anything about my life in the last ten years?” She finally asks, voice quiet. She thinks she can hear him thinking, just like they used to do. Back when they knew one another so well that they could anticipate what the other was going to do. It had been so cold, to her side the last ten years – without him there. She’d just gotten over the idea that she would never see him again, except for a small little flicker of - maybe one day we’ll pass on the street and be completely ignorant to the fact that we passed one another – type of hope.

“I don’t, but I figured you’d tell me in time. It’s not that I don’t wanna ask, Liv – I just – I figured that rehashing the past isn’t gonna do any of us any good. You know? I just wanna know you now. I wanna get to know you, the person you are because of those ten years.” He answers, quietly. She wishes she could remove her hand from her face to look over at him, to see his expression and see the regret in his eyes. See the hesitancy she hears in his voice.

She just hums, quietly.

‘I am so screwing this up’ he thinks to himself. He steals a glance over at her, with her hands  in front of her face, a sad smile on her lips. He wonders if what he’s just said has pushed her away for good. 

He pulls up next to the curb and silently celebrates that he was able to get a parking space here. “Keep your eyes closed, I’m gonna come around and help you out.” He tells her, and she nods, quietly. She hears the door close on his side and then she feels the rush of air when he opens her door and then feels his hands on either side of her arms, and he’s helping her down, out of the truck.

She wants to tell him to keep his hands there, on her arms where she can feel the weight and warmth through the fabric of her dress. She hears a subway moving overhead and then he’s leaning close to her ear. “Keep your eyes closed, but move your hands away, I’m going to replace them with mine.” He tells her, and she nods.

Once she feels his palms in front of her face, smells his cologne so closely to her, she inhales. This feels more like home. More like him.

“Okay, on the count of three, I’m going to remove my hands and then you’re going to open your eyes.” He tells her, and she nods, laughing nervously. “One.” she feels the solid wall of him behind her, “Two.” His hands move from in front of her face and land on her upper arms, “Three.” She opens her eyes finally and has to blink a few times, because she’s kept them closed this entire time.

[ MANHATTAN – LUCKY’S 24-HOUR DINER | 7:30 pm ] 

She laughs and when she turns her face towards him, he’s smiling a million-dollar smile at her, his blue eyes shining. “Is this more our speed?” He asks. She turns to look back at the diner. He’s brought her to their diner. The place they’d spent thirteen years sharing plates of food, drinks, and making their waitress’ life a living hell. “Have you been here recently?” He asks, and she shakes her head.

“No, I – I actually haven’t been here in ten years.”

I stopped coming when you left. It was full of too many memories.

The smile almost leaves his face completely, but he seems to read what she’s just said to him without speaking. His eyes say it all back to her.

I’m sorry that I took this away from you. I promise we’ll make new memories.

“After you, Olivia.”

We’re both ridiculous.

“Holy shit.” The waitress is chewing on a piece of bubblegum as she looks up from the pie she’d just slid in front of two paramedics. “I thought you’d both gotten killed in the line of duty, disappearin’ like that ten years ago – then – I saw this one on the news more often than not and wondered if you’d gotten killed.” She shakes her head, motioning to a booth against the window. “It’s open, you know the way.”

Olivia turns to look at Elliot, her brown eyes wide. The waitress was going to give it all away in one shot, obviously. She hoped Elliot would just catalog it in the back of his mind as things that we’d talk about later or things that an NYPD Captain has to do – appear on the news.

As they slide into the booth, they don’t sit across from one another anymore, they slide in next to each other, on the same side. She’s on the inside and he’s blocking her exit. She likes having him next to her, in this booth, squished against the window and smelling the stale grease, the pies in the window, and two familiar faces behind the counter.

“How the hell are the both of ya?” The waitress, Brenda, asks. She’s ten years older, but still the same loud-mouth she was the last time they’d came into the diner for lunch – that afternoon – before he’d shot Jenna and disappeared. The thought almost is overwhelming, but her leg presses into his as they sit next to each other. “You want your usual?”

“You remember our usual?” Elliot asks, brows raised as Olivia turns to look at him, smacking his arm.

“Sure do, sweetie. You guys like the big plate of fries and the turkey club sandwiches with two extra pickles on the side and two waters with ice, and one Pepsi.” Olivia has to cover her mouth with the palm of her hand and turn away, because Brenda sure as hell did remember their order.

“Do it up then.” Elliot responds, leaning back into the booth and crossing his arms, looking over at his partner. “Can you believe that crap?” he whispers. Olivia turns to look at him, eyes locked on his face, taking in all the lines, wrinkles, slight freckles on his face. When she reaches his eyes, she notes the way there’s more than one shade of blue there – it’s an entire fucking ocean and she wants to dive into it.

She wants to drown. It’s this realization that steals her breath away.

“El, I – weirder things have happened.” She tells him, looking down at the paper tablemat. “I mean, for the first three months you were gone, I stopped at our coffee cart and ordered two coffees without even thinking about it.” She tells him, shaking her head. “So the fact that Brenda remembers our order to this day? I’m not surprised. We were creatures of habit.” She tells him.

He nods, quietly.

“I used to do the same thing, you know.” He tells her, voice somewhat quieter. “The first month that I was at home in Queens, I’d go to the diner to get a cup of coffee in the morning and I’d order two. The waitress there – she uh – would always look at me funny – ask if I was planning on having someone join me. I told her, - I just liked ordering two.”

It’s funny, looking back now, at the things that they’d both done out of habit.

“It was like losing an appendage.” She whispers. “When I lost you.”

“Yeah. Listen, I know – I know this hasn’t turned out how we both had hoped, - maybe we’re just…”

“Stop.” She whispers, turning her eyes to really take him in. She feels her breath freeze for a moment, wondering if she can get out what is on the tip of her tongue, or if now isn’t the right time to tell him. She doesn’t want to screw this all up – hell, it might be the only shot they take at this this between the two of them. “Elliot, let’s be honest with one another here for a minute.” She places her hand on his leg, and he looks down at it. His breath catches in his throat as he locks eyes with her.

I want to be here with you.

Good, I wanna be here too.

“Okay.” He whispers.

“Maybe we’re not fancy restaurant type people. I mean, maybe we could be, - but I feel like we were putting too much pressure on something that comes so naturally to us without forcing it.” She tells him, her head tilting to the side. His eyes take in the way she’s prepared herself for their date. How she’s wearing a red dress that shows ample amounts of cleavage.

Thank you, God, for blessing the both of us in this moment. He can’t help but think – Thank you, Olivia, for wearing this dress.

She’s taken the time to do her makeup – just enough to make her look softer. But honestly, he’d like if she took a wet wipe and wiped it all off – he’s seen her barefaced since he got back. He knows about her freckles, the laugh lines, the smile lines around her eyes, the wrinkle near her nose where when she laughs a real laugh, her nose crinkles up and brightens her entire face. The way she lights up a room with a smile. He thinks she’s even more beautiful without all the crap on her face. He’ll tell her this one day, if he gets the chance to be that candid with her.

“Yeah. Maybe. Maybe we’re the type that walks around Central Park with nothing to do, and can have conversations in cars that would make other people cringe. Maybe, - maybe we’re the type that like the 24-hour diner foods and greasy fries and sharing plates and even though you make more money than me, - you still allow me to pick up the bill and sometimes you actually pick up the bill just cause you’re feeling generous that day.” He agrees.

“Yeah. Maybe we’re the type that can drink shitty coffee for ten minutes before you bitch about it and then tell me you have better coffee at home and invite me back for a better cup.” She grins lopsidedly at him and he chuckles.

“I do have better coffee at home.” He smirks leaning on his fist as she turns in the booth, bringing her leg up slightly as she reaches across her body, grabbing his elbow and turning him toward her just as Brenda walks over and plops the plate of fries down between them, their turkey club cut into triangles and the two pickles on her side of the plate.

“Enjoy, you two. Though, it looks like you were elsewhere this evening.” Brenda remarks. “Can’t believe it took the two of ya ten years to come back here. Did we offend you?”

“No, but you are now, Brenda. Where’s Lorraine?” Elliot asks, without breaking eye contact with Olivia.

The things I wanna do to you, Olivia Benson.

The things I’d like to do to you, Elliot Stabler.

“Lorraine? She’s on vacation this week, wait til’ I tell her I saw you two back in here.” Brenda shakes her head, walking away. “Enjoy – Detectives.” She calls from near the counter.

“Captain.” Elliot corrects, smiling at Olivia as he reaches for his glass of ice cold water. “Olivia is a Captain.” She smiles at him, eyes bright – because damn, he really is proud of that title. Especially for her. “I am, you know.” He whispers, only for her, “Damn proud of you.” His hand reaches for a french fry as he holds it up to her and she bites it.

She feels butterflies in her stomach as she takes the fry from between his fingers. Who the hell would find eating French Fries seductive? She watches as his pupils dilate, the black hiding the blue of his irises. She feels herself growing warmer as he lifts another to her lips. They’ve been here a total of twenty minutes already and she wants – to get him alone somewhere. This is their first date and it feels like their millionth time out. No one else has ever made her feel the gamut of feelings she’s felt tonight. The anxiety is all but gone, but now that she’s looking at his dilated eyes, she cannot fathom what he could’ve originally had planned for their evening.

“El.” She croaks out, swallowing the piece of the warm fry he’s just fed her. She watches as he takes one and pops it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing – grinning at her.


“Nothing.” She tells him, shaking her head. Feeling her heart beating erratically in her chest.

Somehow, they manage to finish off the turkey club sandwich, most of their fries and she looks at him and he just seems to know. He calls Brenda over, asking if they can have another order of fries to go. She shakes her head, laughing as she brings them the cardboard container (they’d done away with Styrofoam).

[ MANHATTAN | 8:20 PM ]

Their hands are together on the middle console as they drive through the streets of Manhattan. Quiet, but comfortable.

“What do you wanna do now?” He finally asks, as they turn down one of the less busy side streets.

“I don’t wanna go home.” She answers, thinking about the way his eyes had changed when he fed her the fry. She can smell the fries in the container on the backseat of the SUV. She squeezes her thighs together and it doesn’t take a Detective to notice that she’s slightly squirming in the seat.

Interesting. He can’t help but think, a smirk on his face.

Shit. She thinks. This is ridiculous.

“El, pull over to the curb.” She tells him, a smile on her face. She has an idea.

“Okay.” He nods, smiling at her as he puts the car in park. She climbs out and walks over to the Driver’s side – opening the door. “What are you doing?”

“Get out. I’m driving.” She tells him and he laughs. “I’m serious, get out.”

[ MANHATTAN | 8:30 PM ]

“Where are we going?” He asks, his hands over his face. She laughs this time. “Olivia. I don’t like not having a clue what’s going on.”

“I’m driving, Elliot. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.” She smirks, pulling into the parking spaces outside the 16th Precinct. “Okay, do you trust me?” She asks, her hand resting on his thigh. He swallows and she watches as the flush spreads from his neck up over his head and disappears beneath his collar.

“With my life, Olivia. I trust you with my life.” He answers. She nods. Reaching in the back and grabbing the bag with the fries. “Where’re you going?”

“Keep your eyes covered, El. We’re going to go somewhere special.” She laughs. “If you can’t keep them covered, I’ll tie your tie over your eyes.”


“And – last step.” She tells him, laughing. Her back hits the door as it opens and she glances down to make sure her keys are in her jacket still. As they walk through the door she moves her hands down over his upper arm, digging her nails into his jacket. “Okay – open your eyes.” She whispers. When he moves his hands and opens his eyes he looks around and a grin spreads on his face.


“I think – this – is much more us.” She tells him, spinning on her heel and walking over to a small table and two chairs that Fin had put up there for the two of them – knowing that this was a special place for Olivia. Any time she wanted to get fresh air, Fin knew where to find her. Knew that she’d always come up to the roof, look out at the skyline, take deep breaths. Watch the people below moving about through their lives. He knew it’d always been hers and Elliot’s special place, and – he made sure no one else utilized it.

She kicks off her heels, crossing her legs in front of her against the ledge. Elliot’s eyes widen as he looks down at her.

“You’re an enigma, Olivia Benson.” He tells her quietly, as she opens the take-out container and takes one fry between her fingers, bringing it up to her lip.

He’s never been more jealous of food in all his life.

He wants to walk over, pull her up into his arms, kiss the salt off of her lips.

“You okay? You have a funny look on your face, Detective.” She smirks up at him, chewing on the fry. He shakes his head slightly.

“Do you know how sexy you make eating a fry? Olivia?” He asks, and she laughs lightly.

Their eyes meet in the dark space on the roof as she holds a fry up and he wraps his lips around it. There it is again, that fuzzy – strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. For all the anxiety she’d felt that afternoon, she felt none of that now.

“You know how nervous I was today, Elliot?” She asks, her elbows on the small table, reaching for another french fry. He laughs, shaking his head, reaching for one himself.

“No. How nervous?”

“I spilled a cup of coffee on my pants first thing this morning, then my tea at lunchtime, and – Fin – he thought I was going to break the suspension in the SUV today on the way to arrest a suspect because my leg was just bouncing away. He sent me home early – “ she laughs.. “I have to remember to bring extra clothes here to put in my bottom drawer now.”

He laughs as she throws a fry at his face.

“It’s not that funny, Elliot Stabler.”

“Why were you so nervous, Liv?”

“I don’t know. It’s just – it felt monumental, you know – going out with you. Like, - what if it didn’t turn out okay – what if we get to the end of the night and we’re both horrible kissers. What if – we’re not – “

“Wait. You wanna kiss me at the end of the night, Olivia Benson?”

“God, I’ve wanted to kiss you all night.” She corrects him. “But we don’t really know one another all that well anymore. But – look at you.” she laughs. “You’re a total chick magnet now – and yet you’ve asked me out three hundred times and I kept saying no.”

“Because you don’t want to screw up whatever this is we’re rebuilding.” He answers, understanding why she’s been hesitant.

“I don’t care about rebuilding anymore – Elliot. I just wanna know what this is. What it’s got the possibility to be. No more – talking about parallel universes. I just – I think I wanna dive in and get to know you now. I want you to know me now- like you said.” She takes another french fry and pops it in her mouth. “I just – I don’t wanna get hurt, Elliot. I mean, years ago – it didn’t really matter what happened, y’know? Cause – it was just me.”

He watches her with his blue eyes trying to figure out what to do in this case. He’s leaning against the wall, looking down at her. Her brown eyes studying him steadily. Mouth drawn in a tight line as she chews, happily at the greasy fry. “Olivia, it always mattered what happened back then. Even though it was just you – I never meant to…” He pauses, shaking his head and she watches him, quietly with tears threatening her eyes. She can’t cry – it’ll mess up her make-up. “Stand up.” He whispers. She stops chewing for a moment, wiping her hands off on the napkin inside the bag next to the container.

She slips her heels back on and stands, as he reaches for her hand, pulling her closer to him. She can smell his breath and it makes her smile, because this is the Elliot Stabler she’s used to. Their eyes haven’t waivered since she looked up at him from her chair. He brings her hand up in front of his lips and plants a soft kiss on the back of her knuckles as her mouth parts slightly.

“I wanna kiss you, is that okay?” He asks.

‘It’s more than okay, Elliot, it’s what I’ve always wanted.’

She nods.

As their heads move closer together, his fingers curl around the back of her neck, the way she’s wearing her hair tonight is pulled back just slightly with her bangs framing her face. As his hand moves up, goosebumps trail on her flesh and he glances down, seeing them break out across the freckled skin of her chest, over the shapely mounds of her cleavage that her dress has left on display. He’d like to be between them, run his tongue in between the valley of her breasts, wrap his hand around them, watch her spill around him, wrap his lips around her nipples, kiss his way up her neck, along her jaw, slide his tongue into her mouth, catch her moans with his mouth, breathe together.

He feels her breathing stutter as their noses brush against one another, as his fingers thread through her hair and then, they both take a breath in at the same time as their lips connect softly, probing, searching. Then, her tongue slides along his bottom lip and he opens up, hand tightening on the back of her head as he pulls her further into him. As their tongues slide together, warm, wet, velvety. Tasting of greasy french fries, hours old wine, bacon grease and pickle juice.

When they pull apart, her cheeks are flushed and she’s breathing harder, but her forehead rests against his lips as they both laugh.

“Still worried?” He chuckles, arms wrapped around her, holding her upright. She shakes her head against his chin, “What do you need?” He asks her swallowing as he notices how dark her eyes look in the lights of the city. She’s looking at his eyes, how there’s barely a ring of blue.

You.” She answers, breasts rising and falling with every intake of breath. “I just need you.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: My Stubborn Will is Learning to Bend


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.

[ 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.


“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.


“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.


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.


[ 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.


“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.


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.