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she might just be my everything (and beyond)

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“You never told me about your wedding.”

Elliot hummed, his focus more on the bare skin his fingers were trailing than Olivia’s observation.

“Haven’t I?”

She rolled her eyes, shifting in bed to look at him. The sheet fell down her chest and Elliot eyed the revealed swath of skin appreciatively.

“I mean, I know about your marriage. But you never told me about the ceremony.”

Elliot frowned, but Olivia could tell that he was not put off by her line of questioning; he was just thinking, trying to remember all those years ago when he was just a teenager – one who stepped up and did the honorable thing for the woman he loved.

“There wasn’t much to it,” he said softly. “We had a small ceremony at our church. It was only really our families who attended. It happened quickly – Kathy’s mother didn’t want her showing in the pictures.”

Olivia’s heart ached at that. She didn’t spend her childhood picturing her wedding, but Kathy was different. Kathy was a good Catholic girl (until she was not) who probably expected a big wedding with the man she loved and not a shotgun ceremony thrown by a disapproving mother.

“Do you still have the pictures?” Olivia asked, trying to remember if any of the boxes she helped unpack at their new place contained mementos like that. Like she could remember anything but a flurry of excitement and frustration on the day that the Benson-Stabler family moved into one household.

“Yes,” Elliot replied. Olivia turned, pulling the sheet over her chest, and he frowned in dissatisfaction. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. “They’re in storage.”

“You have a storage locker?”

Elliot sighed comically, turning Olivia back around and pulling her into his arms. “I have six kids, Liv. There’re boxes and boxes of memories that I couldn’t throw away, no matter how much I wanted to.”

Olivia laughed out loud, shaking her head as she nestled into him.

“Hey, you’re telling me that I needed to keep every single finger painting? They start looking the same after child number two.”

She didn’t reply, just gave herself a small, fond smile before closing her eyes. She started to doze off – and then his words jolted her awake, Elliot’s arms tensing around her as he was torn from his light slumber as well.

“What’s wrong?”

Tears stung Olivia’s eyes and she tried to blink them away. “Six?” Her voice sounded so small. “Six kids?”

His arms further tensed, but he took a deep breath as his lips landed on the nape of her neck.

“I–” She felt him swallow. “Yeah… yeah, if that’s alright with you.”

Olivia’s eyes slammed close. Alright. As if there was a word sufficient enough to describe how it made her feel for Elliot to consider Noah, her Noah, as his own. To not only have this man as her partner, her lover, her boyfriend (though that word has never felt satisfactory) but as the father of her child.

“Yeah,” she whispered. She desperately wanted to turn around and see his face but she was sure her words would get caught in her throat if she did. “Yeah, that’s alright with me.”

Elliot hummed, burrowing his face in the back of her neck. She felt him inhale and she had never felt so safe in her life.

“Do you,” she cleared her throat, “do you need it to be official?”

Elliot thought for a moment and Olivia liked that – liked that he took the time to consider his feelings these days, instead of the impulsivity that peppered their partnership, that lingered in the first year or so he had been back.

“Whatever you want, Liv,” Elliot finally said. To others it may have seemed like a throwaway line but Olivia knew better. He would always defer to her when it came to matters like this. “I don’t need anything official to know he’s mine.”

And maybe it was that – the idea that he would gladly take whatever Olivia would give him when it came to her son, as long as it meant that he could be in Noah’s life as someone other than his mother’s live-in boyfriend – but suddenly their entire relationship flashed through Olivia’s head. Her entire life flashed, really, because she never thought she would have this and it meant that somewhere along the line, she stopped wanting it.

It’s not a bad thing to want.

She turned around, his hands slipping along her skin as she did, making her ache. She finally looked into those blue eyes that have become more familiar to her than anyone. He seemed a little uneasy, maybe, or just nervous, unsure about her next move.

Olivia had never felt more sure of anything in her life.

“I think we should get married.”


Elliot hasn’t been asking for ages, but he has been dropping hints since the minute they moved in together. Olivia was an expert at ignoring them – to her, she already blended their family by agreeing to give up her apartment and move to a new place together.

She didn’t need a ring. She didn't want a ring. She knows she has Elliot, knows she has him forever, if she so wishes. A wedding just seems so… juvenile compared to where they are in their lives. Getting dressed up, saying vows in front of a bunch of people – it makes Olivia break out into a cold sweat.

But, of course, Elliot always finds a way to get what he wants.

The day after her declaration, he comes home with a ring. He waits until the boys have gone to bed and it’s just the two of them cleaning up the kitchen. Olivia’s focused on loading the dishwasher the first time Elliot actually gets down on one knee for her. She hears him clear his throat and she turns, her breath catching.

“What are you–”

“Liv,” Elliot interrupts, his eyes shining. “I love you. You have made me the happiest man and last night was… perfect,” he gives her a smile. “I want to do this right.”

Olivia almost tells him to get the fuck up and off his knees before he hurts something. And then he pulls out the box.

“Olivia Benson,” the box snaps open and she gasps. “Will you marry me?”

Olivia stays frozen, long enough that she can see Elliot’s legs shaking from the exertion of staying on one knee.

“Did you–” she swallows. “Did you already have it?”

Elliot smiles, using the counter as leverage to get up. “Can’t ever make anything easy for me can you?”

Olivia gives him a weak smile, looking down at the ring in his hand. It’s a modest ring, thank god – she has no plans of walking around the squad room with a huge rock on her hand. It’s a round cut diamond with little gems running halfway down the silver band.

“I’ve had it for a while,” Elliot takes the ring out of the box. He shrugs, smiling up at her. “In storage. You don’t have to wear it.”

Olivia huffs, shaking her head in fond exasperation. She reaches for it but he bats her hand away, grabbing her left. He slides the ring on to her finger, the fit snug and perfect. She holds her hand out, admiring the ring – so meaningful in its symbolism.

“Maybe I’ll wear it for a little bit,” she jokes. “Just to see how it feels.”

Elliot chuckles, his hand finding to the small of her back and pushing her against him. “Wear it, don’t wear,” he says against her lips. “You’re still stuck with me forever.”

Olivia smiles wide, and the dishes are forgotten until the morning.


The house is Elliot’s idea. He shows her the listing on a Tuesday night, when they uncharacteristically are home around the same time and can go to bed together.

“I have something to show you,” he whispers. Olivia is sitting at the edge of the bed, shirt off as he slathers lotion down her back,and his hands feel so good that she would agree to anything right about now.

The massage is a habit at this point – Elliot began doing it as soon as the bullet wound healed. He took the lotion from underneath Olivia’s counter one night and insisted on rubbing her bare back. Olivia hadn’t protested; his large hands on her back were magic. But he paid special attention to the scar just above her left shoulder blade, the one where the bullet had exited cleanly (if anything regarding that event could be considered clean). He applied generous amounts of lotion and Olivia felt he needed the contact even more than she did.

She leans back, letting his hands slide further down her front and he chuckles, kissing the side of her head. “Not that. Not yet.”

He pulls away, grabbing his phone, and Olivia bites back a noise of discontent. She reaches for her shirt, throwing it on as she settles beside him. She watches as he clicks a link for a rental house in Connecticut, holding the phone out for her to take.

“I was thinking we could do it here,” he mentions, looking over her shoulder. At her silence, he adds helpfully: “Get married, I mean.”

“Here?” Olivia scrolls through the listing. The house is beautiful – big but not too big, and the gray and white on the outside makes it look like a peaceful oasis – but it’s just a house, a house in Connecticut of all places.

“There’s enough room for all of us,” he says and Olivia starts to understand how much planning and excitement actually went into it. “I thought we could do a weekend away with the family. And then have the ceremony in the backyard with whoever we want to invite.”

Olivia puts the phone down, looking up at Elliot. He seems apprehensive of her reaction, like just the idea of it might make her bolt. It took her nearly a month to start wearing the ring he had gotten after her declaration, and it’s been six months of silence from her on the topic.

“You can get the time off?”

Elliot nods, a little sheepish. “I ran it by Bell. Minus another city-wide black out, she won’t call me in for anything.” He gives her a smile. “I was thinking we could do it in two weeks.”

Olivia’s eyes widen, a shocked laugh coming from her lips. “Two weeks?”

“If the kids can get the time off, yeah. It’ll be warm but not too hot.” Olivia bites her lip, not caring about something so innocuous as the weather. Elliot slides his hand into hers, grasping it. “And you won’t have time to overthink anything.”

“I’m not–” she cuts herself off, the automatic reply not worth it when Elliot won’t believe her anyway.

He kisses her, then, and the thoughts in Olivia’s head are quieted, if not silenced. She reaches up, holding on to him as she lets herself get lost in it. He pulls away, just an inch, bringing a hand to the back of her head.

“Just think about it, okay?” He whispers and Olivia nods, suddenly wanting nothing more than his lips back on hers. Elliot smirks, watching her inability to keep her eyes off his lips. “You want something baby?”

Olivia rolls her eyes, still not fond of the nickname on principle despite the sparks of arousal it sends through her body. She pushes him down on the bed, giving him a moment to scramble eagerly near the headboard. Stripping her shirt over her head, she hears Elliot hum as he settles back, looking up at her in wonder.

Moments later she’s sinking down on his cock, groaning as she braces her hands on the hard planes of his chest. Elliot grunts, his hands on her hips, slowly guiding her down while she adjusts. Olivia shuts her eyes, feeling him inside of her. It’s been over a year of this now, of muffled gasps and quick fumblings whenever they get a moment alone. It doesn’t happen as often as Olivia wants; sometimes she feels like she’s twenty again, desperate and needy and horny.

She makes a noise when he bucks up into her that’s a little too loud than they are usually comfortable with, considering Noah is asleep just down the hall, and Elliot brings his hand to her back, pulling her down to him and shushing her with his lips.

“You have me,” Elliot whispers into her mouth, and Olivia blinks, leaning back to look him in the eye. She grinds down on his dick as he licks his lips. “You have all of me, forever. Do what you want with me.”

Olivia whimpers, pushing herself up and ignoring the soreness in her hips. She closes her eyes, focusing on the rhythm of their bodies, on the rhythm his hands set as they push her down on his dick over and over until she brings the both of them to an unbelievably satisfying climax.

She books the house the next morning, memories of their lovemaking the night before still fresh in her head.


The dress is a whole entire issue, one that Olivia wants no part in. There’s so little time that she thinks she might end up walking down the aisle in one of her white blazers. The idea makes her laugh, and Kathleen looks at her with complete horror.

“We’re getting you a dress,” the woman says firmly. “Or if not a dress, a well-tailored suit. Not one of those.”

Olivia looks down at her outfit, deciding whether or not she should be offended, and Kathleen clears her throat, putting a sickly sweet smile on her face that amuses Olivia so much she just laughs.

It’s not a surprise that Elliot’s second eldest child has taken it upon herself to help plan the wedding – the entire weekend, really. She was the one who cried the most when Olivia stood just behind her fiancé, nervously fidgeting as he told his family that they had decided to get married, and that the marriage would be happening soon if the Stabler children (and Noah, who had excitedly been told an hour earlier) signed off.

They had.

Olivia does not make it easy for her future step-daughter. She vetoes nearly every option Kathleen brings her. Olivia’s phone becomes filled with pictures sent to her with every type of white dress imaginable: short or floor-length, sleeveless or long-sleeved, sweetheart neckline or scoop-neck.

Olivia hates them all. They are beautiful, but every time she imagines herself in one, she feels embarrassed. She’s in her mid-fifties, marrying Elliot. Dressing up feels like making it an event.

“Kathleen called me today,” Elliot says and it’s like a cold splash of water against Olivia’s heated skin, still coming down from the pleasure he had extracted from her body. She actually groans, getting up and making her way to the bathroom to pee – and avoiding this conversation.

She knows better.

Elliot follows her, pulling on briefs as he does, and Olivia doesn’t even bother closing the door.

“It’s apparently the only thing she absolutely needs your input on,” he mumbles, leaning against the door frame. Olivia pouts, flushing the toilet.

“She has my measurements. And a much better handle on current fashion trends–”

“It’s not about that, Liv,” Elliot sighs and she picks up her toothbrush, avoiding his eyes. “She wants you to like your wedding dress. I can’t exactly blame her.”

Olivia starts brushing her teeth and when he walks back into the bedroom she nearly breathes a sigh of relief, hoping against hope that she managed to hold off this discussion until another day. Or forever, either works for her.

She returns to the bedroom and Elliot is scrolling on his phone. She pulls on a clean pair of underwear and one of his shirts, sighing as she settles back in bed.

“I only want to look good for you,” Olivia mumbles, looking up at the ceiling. “Maybe you should just choose it.”

He puts his phone down, cuddling closer towards her.

“You could wear a plastic bag and I’d think you’d look good,” Elliot says. “I’m not the best judge here.”

Olivia makes a disgruntled sound, “This feels mildly misogynistic.” Elliot chuckles. “How long did it take you to pick your tux?”

“Over an hour.”

“An hour?” Olivia asks, surprised. Elliot hums in affirmation.

“I got worried about what color you would like the best,” he mumbles sleepily. Olivia can’t help the fond grin that splits her face. “Just pick a white dress you like. Don’t make my mistake and overthink.”

Olivia feels Elliot drift off beside her.

“Why white? We both know I’m not a virgin.”

But Olivia does buy a white dress. In fact, she buys two, because it’s what Kathleen wanted but was afraid to push for.

“One for the rehearsal dinner would be great,” Kathleen had texted her. “But no pressure.”

Olivia is left alone one night – Elliot had a case and Eli had just gotten home from his summer internship and Noah had all but begged to go to this new movie with him.

She’s two wine glasses in and she sees it: a tailored square-neck cream-colored dress; the sleeves are sheer with white flowers embroidered, the cut is below the knee, and both the neckline and the back are modest.

She buys it immediately – suddenly wary of internet scams. But Elliot always likes it when she wears one of her square-neck blouses. His eyes drop down to her décolleté constantly when she does, even in mixed company.

After her confirmation email comes through, she pours herself another glass of wine. Starts worrying that maybe the fit will be too tight, that the stiff material might not accomodate her post-menopausal bust.

Plus, Kathleen did ask for a second dress.

She finds another one quickly, probably because she simply feels motivated. It’s also tea-length, a little more silky and drapey than the first one. The description says it’s perfect for a rehearsal dinner and Olivia likes the cross-halter neckline.

This dress is sleeveless, and Olivia hesitates a little at that. Her scars have almost completely faded, but she still feels the familiar need for modesty. The need to hide her body from everyone, especially those who knew, who would unintentionally theorize.

Elliot likes her shoulders. He kisses them constantly, no matter where they are. And during the summer, he outright begs for her to wear sleeveless tops.

Olivia adds it to her cart. If one doesn’t work out, she has a backup.

Except they both work out.

The minute the dresses arrive, Olivia sends off a quick text to Kathleen, who immediately invites her over (away from Elliot’s prying eyes) to try them on.

It’s mere days before they are all supposed to go out to Connecticut and Olivia has barely enough time during lunch, but she manages to make it over to Kathleen’s Brooklyn apartment. She shouldn’t be surprised, but she is, to find all of Elliot’s girls there, already pleasantly tipsy off cheap champagne.

Olivia hesitates, the packages in her hands. She loves Elliot’s children, of course, but it feels odd to have Kathleen take such charge of the wedding planning, let alone all of his daughters. It’s like three Kathy Stablers watching her try on a wedding dress to marry her husband.

“Olivia!” Kathleen hugs her tightly, grabbing the packages. “I’ll hang these up. Can you have a drink?”

She can’t, not really, but she also desperately needs one to make it through this fitting. So she nods her head and quickly shoots a text to let him know now that plans have changed, he’s in charge and to call her if there is an emergency.

“We’re so excited to see them,” Maureen says and Olivia smiles, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’m worried what Kathleen is going to do if they don’t work.”

The two girls giggle. “She’ll probably try to get the entire thing canceled,” Lizzie jokes and Kathleen comes back, gently pushing her little sister before grabbing Olivia’s hand.

“I can’t wait any longer,” she proclaims, pulling Olivia to her bedroom. “They look so beautiful,” she whispers.

Olivia looks up at the two dresses as she enters the room, hanging up side-by-side on Kathleen’s closet door.

“Which one is for the wedding?” Kathleen asks and Olivia blinks, still looking at them.

She’s going to get married.

Kathleen says her name again and Olivia coughs. “Whichever one works, I suppose.”

The other woman shakes her head. “No, you had a preference when you bought them.”

Olivia looks over at Kathleen, who smiles patiently. Slowly, she points at her first purchase, the pretty dress with the sleeves that Olivia likes. It came exactly as advertised, much to her surprise.

“Great,” Kathleen claps her hands. “Try it on. I should’ve guessed, honestly, no way you were going to do a floor-length for the wedding.”

Olivia swallows. “Is that bad?”

Kathleen shakes her head. “No. Just, you aren’t exactly the most traditional bride,” she looks over at Olivia. “I mean that in a good way.”

So that’s how Olivia finds herself in Kathleen’s room, looking at herself in the mirror hanging off the bathroom door.

The dress fits.

It’s not loose, but it fits. It hugs her curves and her breasts look… big, but that’s unavoidable and they aren’t obscene in any way. Not to mention that Elliot will probably like that. She rises on her toes, imagining the dress with a pair of tasteful white shoes.

She feels wonderful.

Kathleen calls her name and Olivia takes a deep breath, walking out absolutely petrified that she might be wrong about this dress.

All three girls stop mid-sip. Kathleen bursts out in tears. Olivia has no idea what to do.

“It’s beautiful,” Lizzie breathes, coming closer to look at the sleeves.

“Is it?” Olivia asks, her voice small. She can command an entire squad room, but when met with her wedding dress in front of Elliot’s daughters, she feels totally out of depth.

“So beautiful,” Maureen confirms. Kathleen still hasn’t stopped crying.

“It’s not too much?”

Kathleen laughs through her tears. “See? This is what I’ve been dealing with.”

The room laughs.

“What size shoe are you?” Lizzie asks, pointing to Olivia’s bare feet. “I’m assuming you just want regular shoes.”

Olivia tells her and Lizzie insists she has the perfect shoes in her closet that are the same size. Olivia smiles gratefully at Elliot’s youngest daughter, who returns to her glass, satisfied with her help on the big day.

“Go try on the other one.”

Olivia obeys, coming out again in the other dress. It works too, and she wonders why luck has decided now to be on her side and who she has to thank for that.

“Oh,” Maureen says, “it’s perfect.”

“She’s going to look so beautiful,” Kathleen adds. “Dad’s just going to be staring at her the whole dinner.”

“I hope you put them on opposite sides of the table,” Lizzie cracks, walking around Olivia to make sure the fit is perfect. Olivia turns to Kathleen, raising her eyebrows and she shakes her head, smiling.

“Dad nearly popped a blood vessel when I told him he couldn’t stay with Liv the night before the wedding.” Olivia feels a rush of warmth at that. He’d definitely come home from that lunch in a huff. “The least I could do was let him sit next to her at the rehearsal dinner.”


Additionally, Kathleen takes care of the decorations and the guests. Olivia dutifully reads texts and answers emails, but there is not much else for her to do. Elliot gave her only two weeks to get used to the news and it seems that his plan worked: she barely has enough time to overthink before they are packing up Elliot’s truck and heading to Connecticut.

The house is just as nice as it looked online and Noah bounds out of the car when they arrive, running to the front steps and turning back towards the adults tiredly following him, arms full of bags.

“Can you show me where the wedding is going to be?” Noah asks, looking up at Elliot with his wide blue eyes. Olivia feels something sink into her bones, like something is beating beneath her skin. She’s worried her heart will not stop pounding for this entire weekend.

“Sure, buddy,” Elliot replies amiably. He inputs a code into the electronic lock, nodding inside when he gets it open. “Meet me at the back door while your mom and I get some things inside, okay?”

Olivia watches her son excitedly walk towards the backyard and she glances at Elliot, who is watching her like a scared cat.

“Mama and Kathleen came early,” he says, voice low. He sets his bags inside and grabs hers off her shoulder. “It’s all set up.”

“It’s…” Olivia blinks, walking inside to see her son stopped in front of the glass back door, looking outside in wonder.

“Olivia,” Elliot calls but her feet are working on their own, stopping right behind her son. She places a hand on his shoulder and looks up, breath catching as she finally sees exactly what was set up.

There are rows of simple chairs, bisected by a white satin runner that leads to what is unquestionably Olivia’s favorite part – a lovely golden arch with an arrangement of flowers that takes her breath away. She reaches around Noah to fumble at the lock, opening it and ushering him outside. She can feel Elliot behind them, doesn’t have to turn around to know he’s there.

“Do you like it?” Elliot asks quietly, hand slipping to her waist and squeezing. Noah is walking between the chairs, stopping at the archway and looking at it.

It’s not cheap looking, like a shotgun wedding that no one wants to participate in. But it’s not too big either, glamorous and huge in a way that feels like the opposite of them. She tips her head back to look at him, smiling warmly.

“It’s perfect.”

She watches him sigh in relief, eyes crinkling. He cups her cheek, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“It better be,” a voice calls from behind them and they spring apart like two teenagers, caught. Bernie stands on the deck a few yards away, hugging herself. She smirks down at them. “We spent all day on it.”


Elliot abruptly stands from his place beside her at the head of the table, raising his glass to their guests, who line the elegantly decorated surface set up by Kathleen and Bernie on the very back deck.

The wedding planners had been too exhausted for any real activity the rest of the day so Elliot and Olivia took Noah into the small town to explore before the rest of the Stabler family came to the house.

Noah was older now, Olivia tended to forget, not so keen at spending time with his parents. He’s not quite hit the teenage angst phase that Eli perfected but he’s also not so willing to be influenced to do things he is not interested in. Still, he dutifully walked beside Olivia as they went from shop to shop, pointing out antique figurines that he found cool.

And when they got to an old bookstore with pristine comics that had hefty price tags, Noah pulled on Elliot’s hand, cheeks red with excitement.

“Did you see that?” Noah asked. “They had the first edition. Come on, Da–”

Noah had stopped himself, dropping Elliot’s hand and shaking his head, embarrassment crawling up his neck in the form of a flush. Olivia winced, knowing what that level of embarrassment felt like as a kid. They had yet to tell her son about the conversation in bed, when Elliot made it clear that Noah was his too.

And now wasn’t the time, either. There was only so much change Olivia could take and she sensed Elliot could tell that in her. So he’d squeezed Noah’s shoulder and gestured towards the display that held Noah’s interest. “Why don’t you show me, bud?”

Now, Noah sits on Olivia’s side, his attention on Elliot. Seeing her son watch her future husband makes her realize how ready she is for Noah to have a father – to have Elliot as his father – maybe as it was always meant to be.

She wonders if with the wrong guy, all she would feel is jealousy – Noah loves Elliot in a way that a son can only love his father, just as he loves Olivia in a way a son can only love his mother. But she has been the primary recipient of that love for most of his life, and instead of the resentment she worried would be there, she only feels relief that it no longer has to just be them. Now, Noah can have a large family that will love and protect him.

“I wanted to thank everyone for coming,” Elliot says, free hand coming to rest on the bare skin of Olivia’s shoulders. As she predicted when she first bought this sleeveless dress, he’s been unable to keep his hands to himself since he first saw her in it an hour ago. His jaw had gone slack at the uncharacteristic skin that was showing and they barely had enough time to get Elliot’s hands underneath the skirt before Lizzie had knocked on the door, the only one brave enough to retrieve them for dinner.

Olivia smiles at the guests. She begged Kathleen to keep it small and her future step-daughter obliged. Rollins, Carisi, Fin and Phoebe make up the faction from her unit – her friends just as much as her colleagues. Bell arrived alone and exhausted, and has been sharing a bottle of wine with Bernie at the opposite end of the table. The rest is family – the younger members of their squads – sent their well-wishes, but had better things to do than trek all the way out to this small town in Connecticut to watch a couple of fifty-year-olds get married in a half hour ceremony.

“It hasn’t been easy,” Elliot continues. “Some of you know that better than others.” He tips his glass towards Fin, who just shakes his head back. “But I couldn’t ask for a better group of people to witness the two of us,” his hand squeezes the nape of her neck, “finally come together.”

Someone – Olivia thinks it’s Carisi – yells a hear, hear! and the table laughs. She blushes, taking a premature sip of her red wine. Elliot takes mercy on her, guiding the rest of the table in a cheers before sitting back down, hand falling to her covered waist.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he whispers in her ear, hot breath making her eyes shut. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Even if you hadn’t,” she whispers back, grinning, “I could tell.”

He gives her a sloppy kiss to the cheek, whispering to her one last time before he goes back to entertaining his side of the table.

“I can’t fucking wait to see you in your dress tomorrow.”


Kathleen comes to Olivia with a sheepish expression on her face once all the plates have been cleared. Elliot had left her at the table with a kiss to her head to go help with dishes, insisting that she was not allowed to help and ruin her dress.

“I’m going to send Dad away,” she whispers and Olivia raises her eyebrows. “Fin wants to do some makeshift bachelor party thing–”

“Kathleen,” Olivia sighs, already unsure.

“I know, I know, he’s not going to be too thrilled,” Kathleen says, but then shrugs. “Fin says he can get John on the phone and personally I want him to be tortured a little.”

Olivia laughs, shaking her head. Elliot walks in then, head tilted in confusion.

Turns out Kathleen is right. Elliot makes a big fuss until Fin all but tugs him away to the side garden just out of sight, closer to the water. Bell follows close behind, waving goodbye to Olivia, but she’s not gone for long. She comes back to the table, a little tipsy off the bourbon they were drinking.

“This Munch,” she says, shaking her head. “He’s quite the character.”

“They got him on the phone?” Olivia raises her eyebrows, exchanging a knowing smile with Rollins. “He’s been hard to reach since he moved overseas.”

Bell sighs. “Oh, they got ahold of him. I had to leave because it was feeling like too much of a sausage-fest for me.” Olivia smiles into her drink. “You know I’ve always preferred you anyway.”

Rollins slides a fresh glass of wine over to Bell and Olivia clinks her own glass against it. “Tonight, I’ll pretend that’s true.”

They chat for a little while, the warm fairy lights hung over the deck and rich wine making Olivia feel warm, her eyelids heavy.

“Do you remember the first time?” Amanda asks, her head resting on her hand. Olivia raises her eyebrows in question. “The first time you realized you loved him.”

Olivia glances over at Kathleen, sitting on the opposite end of the long table in deep conversation with her sister. Both her and Maureen’s cheeks are pleasantly red from the wine and they lean in close to each other, bonding over some memory.

They cannot hear her, she thinks, and will not be privy to information that they may already know but probably do not need to have confirmed. She glances at the two women across from her, both eyeing her curiously.

“There was a case,” she starts, shifting forward in her seat. “It got bad and I had to make a choice that– that could’ve killed him. And I realized that I couldn’t do it.”

“Because you loved him?” Amanda supplies, tipping her head down knowingly.

Olivia nods. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Because I loved him.”

“What happened?” Ayanna asks, arms folded over her chest.

“Nothing,” she says, shrugging. “We chose the job. I left for a few months to clear my head–”

Even Rollins seems shocked by that. “You left SVU?”

Olivia hums. “Twice.”

“Just to get him out of your head.”

She glances away to the dark beach a few yards away. She can barely make out the crashing waves from the table but it suddenly sounds very close, muting all the conversation around the table.

“I never got him out of my head,” she whispers. “I just needed some time to figure out if it was all worth it.” At their questioning gaze, Olivia jerks a shoulder up towards her ear. “Being his partner in only one sense.”

“And was it?” Rollins asks, and Ayanna manages a smirk of surprise at her unafraid line of questioning. “Worth it, I mean.”

Olivia doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, it was.”

She sets her glass of wine down, shooting a warm smile at her drinking buddies as she stands. Rollins looks sheepish but Olivia raises her hand at her, letting her know that she’s fine and just needs some space. She waves towards Kathleen, before setting off down the path towards the lake, knowing that if she drowns herself, someone will come check on her.

She leans back against the stone wall separating the backyard and the dock below, taking a deep breath.

“Need something to warm your feet?”

Olivia jumps, though she knows that voice, that presence, anywhere.

“We’re not supposed to see each other before the wedding,” she whispers, smiling as she looks up at him.

“You believe in superstition Benson?” Elliot mocks, backing her up against the stone wall. Olivia can still hear the hushed laughs of the makeshift bachelorette party behind them.

“I don’t like to tempt fate Stabler,” she replies. Olivia reaches out, hooking her fingers into the space between the buttons on his shirt and pulling him closer until they are nearly touching head to toe. Her flirtatious smile falters. “Especially about this.”

Elliot’s eyes go soft, turning down at her and it makes her feel warm, every time. She shakes her head, giving him a weak smile. He leans down and places a soft kiss on her lips.

It makes her yearn for him when he kisses her like this – she appreciates the way he fucks, the sloppy or passionate kisses that come when they are in bed together. But it’s these kisses that have her coming off the wall, pressing herself as close to him as she can until there is no space, no doubt, no way to leave.

“If any–” Elliot clasps Olivia’s hands between them when he pulls back from her, “thing or person or God wants to come between me marrying you tomorrow than they can go fuck themselves.”

Olivia laughs thickly, tears filling her eyes, but she nods in agreement. She reaches up, tugging at the cross necklace that he still wears, laying flat on his chest.

“I love you,” she whispers, placing a soft kiss on the cross and, while she’s there, on his delicious exposed chest. She feels Elliot’s breath hitch above her and under her lips and he grabs her by her hips, pushing her back to the wall.

“I love you,” he says back, grabbing the hem of her dress, playing with it. He gives her a shit-eating grin. “And I love this dress. I love how accessible it is.” He drops to his knees and Olivia gasps, resting her head on the wall and trying not to think about anyone on the other side. He pushes up her dress, placing a soft kiss on the top of her thigh. “Do you think you can be quiet, baby?”

Olivia swallows, nodding her head furiously. His hands tease the band of her underwear, snapping it against her skin.

“Are you sure?” Elliot asks and Olivia bites back a groan. “I wouldn’t want someone to hear you and come down here to… investigate.”

She looks down at him, and he’s still smiling like a bastard. She stares at him as she pushes his hands away, hooking her thumbs into her underwear and letting them fall down her legs into Elliot’s waiting hands. He grabs them before smirking up at her and Olivia has to look away at the rush of heat between her legs.

He taps her legs open and she shuffles wider, her feet catching between the wooden planks of the dock. Elliot kneads her thighs and Olivia sighs, closing her eyes as she feels his breath get closer and closer to her center. Without warning, he licks up her slit and Olivia lets out a quiet yelp, immediately slapping her hand over her mouth. She feels Elliot chuckle into her and she scores her nail in warning along the back of his neck.

“Gotta be quiet, Liv,” he teases and she cants her hips forward, eagerly chasing his tongue. Elliot seems satisfied enough to finally give her what she wants. He nudges his nose against her clit while he sloppily licks inside her, fucking her eagerly with his tongue. His index fingers find her clit and she bites at the back of her hand, leaning back hard against the wall.

“Fuck,” she whispers when his finger starts moving at the top of her center. Between that and the pressure of his tongue she feels close already, her hands grasping at his skull as he continues to lick into her. “El, I…”

Elliot shushes and it doesn’t help her volume whatsoever. He grabs her ass, pulling her pussy even further on his face and shaking his head, adding pressure to her clit with his tongue and then Olivia is crashing over the edge, her moans of pleasure muffled by her hand over her mouth.

He holds her through the orgasm, mouthing her wetness through the pleasurable aftershocks that rock through her. Somewhere far away she can hear footsteps but her senses have gone out the window, honed solely on the pleasure that Elliot is still creating with his tongue.

“Liv?”

Olivia bites back a gasp, looking down at Elliot who is hiding a grin while he pulls down her dress. She blinks, realizing that Amanda has come looking for her. She pushes Elliot away, and he stays crouched while she fixes her hair.

“Liv? You okay?”

She turns around, backing up so that she can see Amanda’s silhouette as she looks down at Olivia.

“Yeah,” Olivia says, clearing her throat. “I just needed a minute.”

Amanda nods, crossing her arms. “Sorry. It’s just that Stabler’s daughter was asking about you,” her eyes drop in insinuation, “I thought it might be better if I came to get you instead.”

Olivia shuts her eyes, blushing immediately. She can feel Elliot at her side, still crouching down like they are two teenagers caught by a parent and not Olivia’s friend and former subordinate.

“Thank you,” she says weakly. “Tell them I’ll be right up.”

The other woman nods, giving her a small smile before walking back up the hill towards the house. Olivia pushes Elliot’s shoulder and he falls in the sand, chuckling on the way down. He grabs her hips, pulling her down in his lap and she grunts at the pressure in her knees.

“Actually, I hate you,” Olivia whispers as Elliot tries and fails to capture her lips. “And I don’t want to get married tomorrow.”

He just laughs, not believing her. “Sure,” he whispers and Olivia realizes he never gave her back her fucking underwear. “I bet if Rollins hadn’t come looking, you would let me take you right here in the sand.”

Olivia takes a deep breath, quelling the arousal that flows through her whenever he talks to her like that. He fondles her ass, and she pushes at his chest, standing up.

“It’s a good thing she came looking then,” she teases, holding out her hand to help Elliot up. He still has her underwear in his fucking hands and she grabs for them, but his reflexes are quicker and he pulls his hand back just in time. “Elliot,” she warns.

“Olivia,” he repeats, grinning. He reaches for her again, sliding her underwear into the pocket of his shorts, his hand landing on the back of her bare thigh.

“You’re not going to give them back,” she deadpans. Elliot shakes his head, his fingers caressing her skin. God, why did she let Kathleen talk her into spending even one night without this man? “You’re going to make me sit there with my friends, with your family, completely bare?”

Elliot grunts, as if the very idea is the reason for his hard-on and not how he just laid her out against the stone wall a few minutes ago.

“If I can’t have you to myself tonight,” he whispers. “Then I deserve something to remember you by.”

He slaps her ass, once, just to get her giggling and then gives her a quick kiss. Olivia pulls away grinning, brushing any dirt off the lower half of her body. She closes her eyes.

“The next time we see each other, we’ll be getting married.”

She can hear the waves near the shoreline, the slight breeze moving through her hair, pushing it off her face and neck. Elliot slides his fingers through the soft curls she had lazily done that morning.

“Liv,” he whispers, nosing into the curve of her neck. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Olivia wraps her arm around his waist, lets herself get lost in the bulk and scent of him for a moment. When she pulls away, Elliot smoothes her hair down, wrapping his large hands around the back of her neck.

“I do know,” Olivia admits, smiling. “I just… never grew up dreaming about this. And I never expected us to be–” she shakes her head, taking a deep breath. “I’m doing this for you, but I’m also doing this for me. I deserve this.”

Elliot nods his head, admiration written in the crinkles around his eyes, the upturn of his lips, the way his hand curls around the back of her neck. He gestures to the house. “Go inside,” he whispers.

She nods, giving him one last too long kiss before she makes her way back to the entrance of the path up the hill. Olivia turns around, a nervous smile on her lips. “Just– be there tomorrow,” she squints her eyes, fighting the quiver of her chin. “Please.”

He gives her a relaxed smile, a confident one, and Olivia’s momentary nervousness washes away.

“Like I said, Liv,” he backs away the way he came. “There is nothing in the world that is going to stop me from marrying you tomorrow.”


There is a flurry of blonde heads bustling around her. Olivia does not feel in control of her own limbs, her arms guided however the Stabler girls want so that the dress fits perfectly. Her hair is tied up in an updo that Lizzie had fastened with whatever hair clips were lying around, a pair of curled pieces framing her face.

She’s slipping into her shoes when there is a knock at the door and all four women in the room whip their heads to look at it, like it’s an offending creature.

“It’s me,” Elliot’s voice says softly and Kathleen leaps for the door as the knob turns, stopping him from entering.

“Dad,” she warns. “You know it’s bad luck.”

Olivia smiles, imagining the frustrated sigh from Elliot, the annoyed look on his face.

“I have a gift for her,” he says, as if Olivia herself is not in the room. “I forgot to give it to her last night.”

She feels herself flush underneath the white of the dress as memories from last night come to her – Elliot on his knees, looking up at her with wet lips. She clears her throat, waving off his daughters as she walks towards the door. She opens the door just a crack, not allowing for Elliot to peek in as she slides her hand outside.

“What is it?” Olivia asks as Elliot puts a box into her hand.

“Just open it,” he urges, and she pulls her hand back to find a small jewelry box in her hand. “And wear it today.” He pauses, then adds, “please.”

Olivia rests her forehead on the door, sighing a soft okay before she closes it. He does not protest and she leans her back against the door, bringing the box closer to her to inspect. The room is silent as she opens it.

Olivia gasps, then places a hand over her mouth. She’s barely aware of herself pulling out the gold chain, holding it up so that the small medallion glints in the light. She closes her eyes, holds it close to her chest, just above the white neckline of her wedding dress.

She doesn’t even know how he got it. The paperwork and runaround over a decade ago meant that even she couldn’t get the thing out of the evidence locker. But Elliot found a way, or was patient enough to stick it out, and either way she can’t imagine how hard it was for him. She’s glad he did though, because now she has the medallion that she’d held on to for so long after he left and it can mean something new, now. It can represent their new beginning, one where they will be together, forever.

Olivia clears her throat, looking up at the blue-eyed children of her future husband.

“Can someone clasp this for me?”


Olivia’s shaking as she stands behind the glass door separating her from the wedding party. The girls fidget with her sleeves and make sure her hair is pinned up just right. Olivia keeps tilting her head to get a glimpse outside, even though the angle is off and she cannot even see the three groomsmen, let alone the groom.

“Stop,” Kathleen admonishes after the fourth time she catches Olivia peeking. She giggles. “We’re almost there.”

There is some noise behind her but Olivia is still being poked and prodded so she can’t turn to see what is happening.

“Need someone to walk you down the aisle?” Fin asks, coming to stand beside her with a glass of champagne in his hand.

Olivia raises her eyebrows. “You want to walk me down the aisle?”

“Phoebe told me to ask,” Fin shrugs. “She doesn’t really get it.”

Olivia gets it though. Her and Fin’s friendship, their partnership, has always thrived in its privacy. In the way he has quietly and dutifully stayed by her side for over twenty years – never pushing her, never advertising how much he knows her, even though he does (almost) more than anyone.

It’s been a lifesaver, having someone who will follow you blindly in public and keep you humble in private. When Elliot left, Olivia thought she would crumble – but she didn’t. And she can say that she was strong enough to get over the loss of Elliot because that is who she is, which is true. But the man sitting next to her, refusing to make her feel embarrassed about this day that is all pomp and circumstance and so unlike her, is a large part of that strength.

The door slides open and the first Stabler daughter walks out with a handful of flowers.

“This feels ridiculous,” Olivia whispers and Fin chuckles.

“Yeah,” he admits, because he understands, because this is the man who planned a wedding in a few days and then backed out of it because it was too much. “But you should’ve seen Stabler last night. I mean, after you two met up for some rendezvous I don’t need to hear about.”

Olivia blushes at his knowing gaze.

“He loves you, Liv. I think he always has,” Fin says, watching Kathleen’s procession towards the altar. “And you are showing him how much you love him by doing this.”

She takes a deep breath, nodding. Lizzie twists the stems of the flowers in her hand, turning her head towards Olivia. The youngest Stabler daughter has always been quiet – someone whose words have more meaning because of the care and thought she puts into each one.

“I love Eli,” Lizzie whispers. “But this should’ve happened fifteen years ago.”

She doesn’t give Olivia the chance to reply, turning and walking down the aisle. Fin laughs out loud and Olivia turns towards him, ready to kill him. He holds his hands up in surrender, shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hey, I agree with her,” he says. “And I don’t even like the kid that much.”

Olivia rolls her eyes, taking a deep breath. The music goes silent and there is some shuffling. It occurs to her that Fin was sent by her groom to ease her nerves, distract her from any last minute cold feet she might have.

“Don’t you have a seat to get to?”

Fin shrugs again, looking around. “I might stay here,” he says. “Make sure none of the guests get too rowdy and try to object.” Olivia laughs at that. Fin tips his head down, eyes serious. “Someone’s gotta watch your back.”

Olivia smiles at him gratefully, squeezing his hand. He bows his head and she nearly jumps out of her skin when the wedding march begins. She shakes her head, slides her hand down her dress one more time and steps out on the covered grass.


Elliot has been at the altar only once.

When he stood in that church, watching Kathy walk down the aisle, smiling nervously, he thought it would be the only time he would be standing there. Despite the quickness of their courtship, Elliot loved her, as any young man would.

It’s when he’s at the altar a second time, though, that he realizes that his love for Olivia doesn’t compare.

Elliot tried his best not to. Since he and Olivia first became partners, he steadfastly kept his mind away from any direct comparisons between her and Kathy – in appearance, in reactions, in personalities. And it worked, simply because of how different they were. And when he and Olivia started up after Kathy’s death, it was all so new and exciting that he didn’t have time to stop and think about how this felt different, and why.

Olivia walks down the aisle in a beautiful white dress, a stark contrast to her tan skin that Elliot covets every night, his mouth running dry whenever he gets a glimpse at more and more skin. Her long dark hair is pinned up, some pieces falling around her face, and Elliot likes the way it shows off her cheekbones and the curve of her jaw. He likes to run his fingers over it in public, gently and quickly, because it’s usually the only public display of affection that she allows.

Olivia’s eyes, previously trained on her feet, tilt back up to look at him. Relief washes over her face and even from a few feet away, they take a deep breath together. She stands in front of him, handing off her small bouquet to one of his daughters. Elliot has to get his hands on her so he reaches for her waist, pulling her closer, but Olivia wraps her hands around his and squeezes, holding them between their bodies.

They grin at each other like idiots before the man at their side clears his throat. They both look over at the officiant, caught.

Nothing new there.

Cragen shifts on his feet between them, raising his chin to the small crowd of guests and starting with the usual wedding speech.

That had been Olivia’s last surprise. Elliot did not think Cragen would be able to manage the trip or get certified as an officiant in time. Elliot was tying Noah’s tie when the man showed up earlier that morning, waving a twenty-four hour certification slip in his hands and smiling.

“Hope your other choice doesn’t mind.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” Elliot replied, grasping Cragen’s hand and fighting off a wave of emotion. There hadn’t been a backup plan. If needed, they could’ve had a small ceremony here and been officially married at the courthouse back home. But, for some reason, everything decided to fall into place.

“It’s about time,” Cragen said, stepping back to look around Elliot at the groomsmen hurriedly getting ready. “Do you remember when you came to visit me? About your father?”

Elliot nodded, clearing his throat.

“I should’ve said something then,” Cragen said, shaking his head. “I was kicking myself for not.”

“Said what?”

“I should’ve told you not to waste any more time,” Cragen said, trying to downplay his words. “That it’s possible to get a second chance.”

Elliot nodded. “I think I needed to learn that for myself.”

“Yeah,” Cragen agreed, smiling. “You know, she always made you better. It’s the reason I never had it in me to split you two up.”

Elliot clapped a hand on Cragen’s shoulder, bringing him in for a hug. “Thankfully, she still does.”

Afterwards, Elliot had convinced Kathleen to let Cragen into Olivia’s room so that they could exchange a few words. When Cragen exited, he surreptitiously wiped away a few tears and Elliot could overhear Kathleen asking for a touch up of Olivia’s makeup.

Now, Cragen speaks with a commanding voice – and like he did his research. It makes Elliot smile with pride and admiration and Olivia keeps biting her lip, looking at her would-be father figure fondly.

“I worked with these two for twelve years,” Cragen says. “And in my time as a cop, I’ve never worked with two more frustrating, stubborn, hot-headed people in my life.”

The crowd chuckles.

“But for some reason, they worked well as a team, as partners,” he says, “and I can’t express how proud I am to be standing with you two here today.”

Olivia’s eyes shine with unshed tears and Elliot rubs his thumb along her knuckles, stepping just a touch closer. He feels antsy. He wants to be married to her. He’s suddenly glad that he compromised with Olivia about handwritten vows – she begged him not to make her do them, preferring to keep their epic declarations of love private. Elliot agreed because it was during the dress debacle, and now he thinks she’s a genius.

Cragen takes a deep breath, pulling the rings Elliot had slipped to him earlier from his front jacket pocket. He hands them to their respective recipients and Olivia flips it over and over with shaky fingers.

“Elliot,” Cragen says. “Do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

Elliot looks at Olivia, nodding. There is nothing he wants more.

“I do,” he says, voice low.

“And Olivia,” Cragen says, turning to her. “Do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

There is a pause, a silence so great that it’s like time has stopped. Finally, Olivia’s smile grows, until she’s laughing, as if she cannot believe what she is going to say.

“I do.”

Elliot grins, already hearing murmurs from the crowd.

“Then, by the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Cragen says, smirking. “Elliot?”

He looks over at his mentor.

“You can kiss her now.”

Elliot chuckles, suddenly feeling shy, but Olivia reaches forward and wraps her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her lips. He grasps at the back of her intricately knotted updo, pulling her closer; he sweeps her low, dipping her and he swallows her surprised gasp. In the background, there are groans of disgust from their children but Elliot couldn’t care less.

Olivia Benson is his wife.


Olivia stands around at her own wedding reception, looking out as her guests mingle with each other. Those are words she never expected to experience. A year ago, she would’ve told anyone who asked that she was okay with never being a wife, that she was happy to never have a wedding. And it would’ve been true, then.

But as she watches her husband weave through a few of their guests to get to her, she knows that anything less with Elliot would be that – less. She may not have needed to be a bride, but she wants to be Elliot’s wife.

He grabs ahold of her bicep, turning her around and quickly pulling her with him.

“Elliot,” she gasps. “I’m in heels.”

“You are in heels everyday,” he says, grinning. He holds two champagne flutes in one hand and the other drops her bicep to interlock their fingers.

“Not these heels,” she says, looking down at the white death traps. “And not on grass.”

Elliot chuckles but wisely does not reply. They walk down the same pathway that Olivia had the night before, stopping in the same out-of-the-way spot that they had… met up. She finds herself blushing again.

“Elliot,” she warns and he laughs, holding out one of the glasses.

“I won’t try anything down here, I promise,” he says, then raises his eyebrows. “Unless…”

Olivia shakes her head, leaning against the wall. “Why are we here?”

“Well,” he says, holding up his glass. “You didn’t want the vows in public.”

“Elliot,” she says again, mouthing dropping open. “I didn’t write anything.”

He shrugs. “I didn’t either,” he says and she narrows her eyes at him, not believing him. “Let’s not call these vows, then. It’s a toast.’

“A toast?”

“To us,” he says, clinking his glass against hers. They keep eye contact as they sip at the dry, bubbly drink. He steps closer towards her, backing her up against the wall. “To Olivia Benson, my wife,” he grins at the word. He swallows, dropping his mouth to her ear. “The love of my life,” he whispers and she closes her eyes, reaching an arm around his waist, pulling him even closer. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

Olivia does not have the words, her throat thick and eyes wet with unshed tears. They stand together, letting their champagne go flat, while they hold each other. When Elliot pulls back, one of her loose strands of hair gets caught on his wet cheek and it’s only then that Olivia realizes he has been crying.

“I’m–” she stops, clears her throat. “I’m glad I waited,” she looks up at Elliot, who is watching her with intense eyes. “I’m glad I waited to be your wife.”

Elliot leans down, pressing a soft kiss on her lips. Their fingers interlace again and he pulls her back up to the party, where she ignores the knowing looks from Amanda.

“You almost missed the first dance,” she calls and Olivia rolls her eyes. There is no dance floor so she assumes her friend is lying. Except, Elliot’s grip on her hand tightens and he looks over at her like he’s trying very hard to not make a big deal out of something.

“We don’t have to–”

A song comes on – blares, really, because Eli brought his speakers and apparently just figured out how to set them up. It takes Olivia a moment to realize it’s not a song, but an arrangement – some concerto that she remembers telling Elliot she loved, even though the name eludes her now.

But Elliot remembered and he’s staring at her with a glint in his eyes, so she takes a deep breath and leads him to the cleared area in the middle of the deck. She settles his hand around her waist, entwining their opposite hands and he pulls her closer by the small of her back. She’s never been much of a dancer, never really had an occasion to do so, but Elliot leads her in a nice sway that she hopes doesn’t look too ungraceful.

His nose bumps the side of her head and she slides her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck. His bowed head gives her a better view of the guests standing around and watching them.

“So,” Elliot whispers. “Olivia Stabler?” She laughs, too loud. “It has a ring to it.”

She dips her head to bump against his exposed neck. “Elliot Benson sounds better to me.” He hums like he is thinking about it, and she pulls back to look at him incredulously, but he breaks and they laugh together. “You owe me, you know. After this weekend.”

Elliot nods, looking down at her. “Trust me, I plan to be on my knees for you for a very long time.” Olivia blushes, looking away, and Elliot gives her a sloppy kiss on her cheek, hand slipping so quickly to her ass that she imagines no one even notices but her. “Can we send everyone home so I can start now?”

“You wanted the reception, you have to live with it,” Olivia replies, pushing him away as the music ends. She smirks when she steps away from him, returning to her friends and family until the time comes for everyone to go home.

Later, when it’s dark and the moon is bright and reflecting off the lake, the sober members of the party back up their cars and make the hour-long trip back to the city. The rest get settled into the house. Bell sleeps on the couch.

Elliot and Olivia collapse on their bed together. She pulls at the pins in her hair until it falls down in loose waves, fanning out on the white comforter of the bed. She feels Elliot’s fingers brush through her hair soothingly and she moans, closing her eyes. His hand slides softly through any tangles, caressing her jaw. He lingers at her neck before lowering down her body until he reaches her bare knee.

Olivia turns her head, opening her eyes to look at him, but his gaze is on his hand as it inches under her dress, tickling her inner thighs.

“You looked so beautiful tonight, Liv,” he whispers, as if his voice will break the moment. “But the moment I saw this dress, I just wanted to get you out of it.”

Olivia gasps as his fingers tease the seam of her panties. Grabbing his hand, she leans up suddenly, capturing Elliot’s bottom lip between her teeth before pulling away and standing up.

“Then you better help me unzip.”


Sometimes, when they are fucking like this – with Olivia on top, gripping his shoulders to hold her weight up, Elliot looks up at her like she is some precious artifact, something to be revered and treasured.

It’s even more special tonight.

Each time her nipples brush against his chest, it makes Olivia’s thighs quiver. Elliot groans as she continues to merely rub her wetness against his cock, not quite allowing him to enter her yet. The anticipation has him squeezing her hips hard and Olivia finds she likes the pressure. He slips inside her for a brief moment before she leans up again, his cock falling out and sliding between her ass cheeks.

Olivia bites her lip to stifle a moan, because it’s just as excruciating for her as it is for him. But she waits him out, watches his deliciously defined chest flush red with the way he is restraining himself from flipping her onto her back and taking over.

“Please, Liv,” he begs.

She smirks down at him, her hair already sweaty and falling around his face. Her voice comes out far more innocent than she feels. “Please what?”

Elliot makes a noise, cock twitching between her legs and she reaches down to wrap a hand around him, tugging gently.

“I need to be inside of you,” he says, breathing out. “I want to be inside my wife.”

Olivia wants that, too.

She sits up, aligning his erection to her entrance and sinks down on it, moaning as he fills her. She waits for a moment, adjusting and enjoying. Elliot starts to slowly rock her up and down and on the third or so time, she slams her hips down, causing some garbled sound to come from Elliot that makes her grin.

They thrust in tandem, Elliot never one to completely shirk his duties even when they are positioned like this, and their shared rhythm feels just as amazing here as it did when they were partners on the streets together.

Elliot leans back, sucking a nipple into his mouth. He keeps moaning and the vibration against her sensitive chest feels nice, especially while his dick keeps sliding inside of her. He rests his head back on the pillow, grabbing her ass and speeding her up a little, his own hips driving up into her.

“Elliot,” she gasps, eyes slamming shut as she feels herself get shakier with each thrust. She shifts her weight to one hand so that she can find her clit with the other, moving her fingers sloppily. It does the trick, though, because she feels her climax coming quickly, faster than it has since she reached this side of fifty. “I’m going to–”

“Yeah,” he says, breathing hard from the exertion. “Me too.”

Olivia slows her fingers, bringing herself back from the brink. There is no reason why they have to come together but Olivia likes the idea anyway and she feels through her own haze of arousal for his cock, filling her up more and more.

“Tell me when,” she whispers, leaning down to give Elliot a kiss that is mostly tongue. He nods, eyes closed, focusing, and then he’s gripping her waist, pushing her down harder and she reaches for her clit again.

“Now,” he says, and all it takes is a swipe of her wet fingers for her to fall over the edge, just as Elliot groans and she feels him spill inside of her. She drops her body onto him, knowing that he can take it, and tucks her head into his neck. They breathe together, heavy and loud, while his hands run up and down her back.

Eventually, Elliot slips out of her and Olivia goes into the bathroom to clean up. They come back together under the plush sheets of the bed, Elliot wrapping his body around Olivia as she cocoons herself back into his warmth. His lips pucker sleepily against the back of her neck.

“I love you, Mrs. Stabler,” he teases, nearly slurring his words from exhaustion.

Olivia smiles, closing her eyes. “I love you, Mr. Benson.”