Author: TStabler PM
It started out as a way to give each other what they needed without the risk of getting hurt, but soon they fell. Hard and fast. Like cannonballs. The aching, unchanging need for each other is growing harder to ignore. Who will be the first to fire? EORated: Fiction M - English - Drama/Romance - E. Stabler & O. Benson - Chapters: 15 - Words: 31,589 - Reviews: 216 - Favs: 53 - Follows: 51 - Updated: 05-09-12 - Published: 01-13-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7737723
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: There's still a little bit of your taste in my mouth.
DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf owns SVU and all related characters. TStabler owns the following story.
"So, maybe, it was, what, a thirty-four caliber?" Elliot asked, turning to her, raising an eyebrow. He didn't expect her to be staring at the body the way she was, and it stunned him. "Liv?"
"Looks like it," she said, nodding. She tugged her gloves off and tossed them into a plastic bag. She blinked and finally looked over at him. "I'm sure Melinda will let us know what kind of bullet she gets out of her."
"You okay?" he asked, starting to walk, moving with her slowly toward the car. "You just seem kind of...off."
She shook her head. "I'm just tired," she said. "Didn't get a lot of sleep last night." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Someone kept me up all night."
He laughed and said, "And I am pretty sure he is not sorry at all."
"Oh," she said, yawning, "I know he isn't."
He opened the door for her, then when she was settled in the passenger seat he ran around to the driver's side. He got it, fastened his seatbelt, and jammed the key into the ignition, but before he turned it, he looked at her. "Can I see you tonight?"
She was quiet and still, staring out the window for a full minute, and then the laughter started. She shook her head and looked at him with a sigh, her eyes slowly blinking. "Bring dinner," she said.
"Of course," he returned with a smirk. He looked back at the steering wheel and turned the key, humming happily as he put the car into drive. "Chinese?"
"It's Friday," she said, meaning yes. Their routine was nailed down now, and nothing had changed in the last four months. "Wanna watch a movie?"
"Isn't that Stephen King thing coming on tonight?" he asked, flicking the blinker and changing lanes.
She laughed at him again. "You are the only person I know who can do what we do for a living and, even when you don't have to, watch murder and blood and death and..."
"Annabeth Gish gets naked," he said with wagging eyebrows.
"Oh," she scoffed. "Because you won't be seeing another hot, naked woman tonight?"
He smiled and winked at her, then turned down an avenue, chuckling. "I like nights like this," he said to her with a soft look in his eyes. "You and me, just talking."
"Just talking?" she questioned.
"Well," he said, "Mostly talking." He pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment building and moved toward her, the hurt seeping in when she turned her face to catch his kiss on her cheek. "I'll be back in a few," he whispered into her ear.
She nodded at him with a half-smile, and got out of his car, slamming the door behind her. She watched his car roll down the street then turned with a deep breath as she climbed the steps. She nodded to her doorman, then took the short elevator ride up to her floor.
She trudged toward her door, shuffling in her pocket for the key. She found it, and walked into her apartment with another heavy sigh. She kicked off her shoes, hung up her jacket, and wandered into her bedroom.
She changed, pulling off her suit one piece at a time. She smirked, knowing there would be no need for underwear tonight, and tugged on a pair of sweats and a loose tee shirt. She stayed barefoot and padded back into the living room, then threw herself onto the couch. Picking up the remote, she flipped through channels until she found the movie Elliot wanted to watch and then she leaned back with her feet up, waiting for him.
Twenty minutes later, the door opened, and Elliot walked in with a plastic wrapped paper bag. "Hey," he said with a smile, taking his coat off. He hung it up, then moved toward the couch, dropping the food on the coffee table. "What'd I miss?" he asked, taking the food out of the bag.
She shifted her legs for him and he sat. She raised an eyebrow at him when he pulled her legs into his lap. She smiled and took the egg roll he handed her. "Someone died in an unexplainable way," she said. "Some kids are playing around in the crime scene and they don't know it. The dog has rabies."
He stopped moving the chopsticks toward his mouth and stared at her. "You have no fucking idea."
"I watched about five minutes and decided it was probably the most boring movie on the planet," she said, chewing.
He laughed as he shoveled his lo mien into his mouth. "You're adorable," he said with a mouthful, then reached over her legs for his soda.
"I can move," she said, attempting to.
"Don't you dare," he returned. "You're comfortable, right?"
She smiled at him. "Very." She popped a piece of broccoli in her mouth and wiggled her legs a bit. She almost choked on her chicken when he tickled her feet, and she kicked and jerked hard as she laughed.
"Come on, Benson," he quipped. "That all the fight you got?" He grabbed her legs and yanked, hard, pulling her into his lap completely. His arms looped around her and he ran his tongue around his teeth and swallowed the last bit of noodles before saying, "Hello, there."
Her food forgotten on the table now, she wound her own arms around his back. "Hi," she almost whispered.
He moved in, slow, close, and knowing she would move unless he did, he tilted his head and latched his mouth onto her neck. Part of him hated the unspoken agreement they had, with a passion. The rest of him understood why it existed. He mumbled something against her skin, and he stood, with her still in his arms.
She must have understood him because she held on tight and didn't fight him as he kept sucking on her pulse and moved her toward the bedroom. "El," she moaned, feeling the air woosh against her as she was dropped onto the bed.
He chuckled as he stared down at her. "What?" he asked, smirking, pulling his shirt off.
She bit her lip as she watched him undress, and she grunted, forgetting what she was going to say, when she felt his hands on her, her own clothes being peeled away.
"What were you gonna say, Detective Benson?" he prodded, laughing when he saw the smooth, barenaked skin beneath the sweatpants. He smoothed his hands up and lifted her shirt, throwing it over his head. "I'm waiting," he sang, crawling over her.
Her head fell backward when his lips clamped down on her right nipple. "Oh, God, Elliot," she whispered. She wanted so badly to ask him, to tell him, but she couldn't. She knew that it wasn't what their relationship was, it was not what he wanted, not yet.
"Tell me," he hissed, sucking on her rosy bud. His hands worked between her legs, his fingers slipping up and down her slick folds, sliding in and out of her, teasing her. He moaned and his eyes closed, and he let her nipple go.
She whimpered as she opened her eyes, she watched him kiss her chest, and the way his lips pursed against her skin with such tenderness made her own mouth ache for his taste. "Elliot," she whispered again.
He twisted two of his fingers inside of her and lifted his head, looking into her eyes. He half-expected her to move toward him, but he knew her much better than that. He pulled his fingers from her, held her gaze as he licked her juices off of his long, thick fingers, and he eased her legs open more. "What, Olivia?" he questioned just as softly. "What do you want?"
She bit her lip and kept her eyes on his as he positioned himself over her. She ran her hands up his back and rested them on his shoulders, her left leg hooked over his hip, and she took a deep but ragged breath as she felt him push at her entrance. "El," she panted.
He dropped his forehead to hers, one hand curling around her leg and the other around the back of her neck, and he whispered, "I'm right here."
She nodded, a sharp intake of breath stilled her, and she felt him pushing. Her nails dug into his skin harder as he thrust deeper, and her eyes closed when his flesh met hers. "Oh, my God," she moaned.
"I will never get tired of this," he moaned in return, his head rubbing gently against hers. "Ever. I swear on my life." He kissed the corners of her mouth, her chin, then her neck. He sucked harder as he began to move faster, thrusting harder.
Her eyes opened, and stayed that way, and they met his as he backed up to look at her. She smiled at him, they shared playful laughs and bites, and he hit spots inside of her that no one ever had. She promised herself that she wouldn't let herself go, but it was too late, and it was all she could do not to tell him.
He growled when she scratched her nails down her back, he kissed his way down her chest again, and it made him hit into her harder, picking up a bit more speed. Her moans hit his ears and her cries of his name hit his heart. "Oh, fuck, Liv," he mumbled, his hands caressing her lightly.
She felt the familiar heat rise, coursing through every vein. Every nerve was crying out, begging to be touched, lavished with more attention from the man on top of her. She gasped when she felt his hand slip from her leg to her clit, and when he swiped the nub she jerked and shuddered, and her world shattered.
"Come on, baby," he breathed into her ear. The moan that escaped her lips was one that he was certain she had never made, and the sound that followed was one he was sure no human had ever uttered before, and it only spurred him on. He pistoned into her, punctuating each move with a grunt and a flick of her clit, and he kissed her everywhere he could, except the one place he knew would scare her. At least, for now.
Her left hand dug into his shoulder and his right scratched desperately at his scalp as she whined and whimpered and clung to him. The tremors ripped through her with shocking power and stunning speed and she clenched and pulsed around him with force that scared her. "Oh, God, El," she yelled, her head flying back into the pillow beneath her.
He pressed his lips together, trying to hold on until she had ridden her release out completely, but her throbbing and vibrating final moments sent him into a spin, making him lose control. "Ah, fuck, baby," he spat, thrusting with every powerful, pulsing spurt.
She held him close, looking up into his eyes as he stopped moving. She smiled when he kissed her forehead, and she tried to slow her breathing, tried to slow her racing pulse when she saw his lips moving toward hers. She wasn't going to turn away, she promised herself.
Two ringing cell phones interrupted what would have been the most intimate of moments, though, and their foreheads touched instead of their lips. They shared a laugh instead of a kiss. "Right on time," he chided, kissing both of her cheeks and her forehead again, then pulling out of her with a slow hiss.
She closed her eyes and bit her lip, hating and loving every minute of what had just happened, and she slowly sat up. She watched him scramble to find his clothes as he talked on the phone, and she answered her own ringing cell and found a clean bra.
She listened to the babbling on the other end of the phone and dressed as she laughed to herself. This was their routine, and had been for the last few months. This was what they were. The best of friends, the ultimate team, the truest of partners with the most amazing of benefits. It was painful for her to want so much more so desperately and be so afraid of it.
She hung up the phone and looked at him as he pulled on his tie, and she sighed. She was falling, hard and fast, and she didn't think she'd be able to hold out much longer. And that was a mistake she didn't want to risk making, because she was certain it would be a mistake, and he had yet to prove her wrong.
But he would, and she wouldn't be ready for it. At all.
A/N: Chapter two?