Undercover Days

Chapter 13

Warning: Rated M for sexually explicit (but tasteful) content, this story is for mature audiences only.

A/N: I know, a big delay but in return this is a monster chapter so we can pretend it's like posting two chapters at once! As always thanks for reading and your comments are welcomed and appreciated.

Disclaimer: They are not mine but I am eternally grateful for the chance to play with them…

Olivia can hear the television from the hallway and the scent of something wonderful cooking seeps underneath the door. She slips her key into the lock and steps inside, trying to sort out the day in her head. Elliot turns as she enters, his cell phone clenched in one hand and a beer dangling from the other. His expression shifts between concern and anger and she tries to take a deep breath to brace her self as she walks into the room.

"Have you lost your phone?" His voice is low and his words are carefully clipped with what she knows is the stress of holding on to his temper.

"No." She pulls off her coat and drapes it on the back of a chair as she turns to face him.

"Did you run out of power or accidentally turn it off?" The edge grows sharper and her mind races to defuse him but his tone is starting to trigger her own anger.

"No Elliot, it's been a long day and…"

"A long day? You left six hours ago to go to a lunch and somewhere in your long day decided I didn't even deserve a courtesy phone call?"

"Elliot it wasn't like that…" She knows their voices are rising but he's gone into interrogation mode and it's really pissing her off.

"Well then why don't you tell me exactly how it was?" His eyes are squinting and his jaw is locked, as the last act of agitation his arms fold across his chest to wait for her answer.

"I would if you would let me talk long enough to explain." She looks down at her feet and her eye catches the bottle still hanging from between his fingers. She walks toward him and easily tugs it from his hand. She takes a long slow drink under his intense stare. She wants to calm down some before continuing, having her neighbors call the cops on them would just be embarrassing.

He scrubs his hand down his face as the weariness from the last few emotional hours wash through him. His voice drops to a whisper as he speaks, "I was so worried Olivia, you know how it is out there, how many things can happen."

The irony of his statement knocks the last of the fight out of her and she walks over and drops to the sofa. "I went to see Cragen and he asked me to come back to the unit, so I had to tell him. He wants us both to see Huang before I return to see how we are mentally and emotionally. He doesn't seem sure if this is going to help us or hurt us on the job. We definitely can't be partners and he isn't even sure we can stay in the same unit. He'll make a decision after he gets the reports from Huang." She looks more than worried, almost frantic and he wonders if there wasn't more to the conversation.

"Did he say he didn't think we could handle it?"

"No, he said the odds were against us but he thinks we're both stubborn enough." She lets a small smile tug at her lips. "His concern is about the cases when we all have to work together because effectively we could still be partnered then. I think he's afraid of how we'll act in the field if something happens to one of us."

"Well, it's not like we didn't discuss that ourselves. I don't think we'll know exactly how we'll act until the situation presents itself. As far as the partner thing goes, how many times a year are we so short handed that we'd be forced together? When we're down that many people Cragen usually steps into the field to help." He sits down next to her because he can tell there's something else going on and he can't imagine what it is since Cragen hasn't actually ask one of them to transfer to another unit.

She's perfectly still and he can feel the heat pouring off of her. "He's just trying to cover his bases." He lets her sit quietly for a moment, knowing how she works, and waiting for her to talk to him. "He said I look happy."

He's confused by her sad tone in making the comment. Why wouldn't she be glad that she looks happy? He treads lightly now because he's getting worried. "Maybe you are happy."

She turns and gives him a small smile but it lacks the joy of conviction. "I went to see Huang to try to get the evaluation over with because the captain got a call and we didn't get to do lunch so I had some time. He wasn't in his office so I was going to call you and just come home. When I got outside I was walking and I just sort of lost my breath. George happened to be coming back to the building and saw me on the sidewalk. I ended up going to lunch with him."

"What do you mean you lost your breath? Did you fall or have it knocked out of you?" He's speaking softly now and listens with all his senses like he does when a perp is in the box and he needs to glean as much information as possible. Her story isn't making sense to him.

"It isn't the first time Elliot; it's actually the third time in the last few days. I get this tightening in my chest and then I find it hard to breathe. Huang wouldn't clear me to go back to work without sending me for a physical first. He said as soon as I was cleared he would book our appointments for the report to Cragen. When I left there I did try to call you but you didn't answer and I had left a message earlier so I called to make an appointment to see my doctor. After I explained what was happening she said she would see me right away. That's where I was for the next four hours, having tests done at the hospital where my phone was locked in a locker." She sighs heavily and he holds his breath, waiting.

"Jesus Olivia what the hell is the matter?" His mind is rapidly filling with a plethora of deadly conditions, each more frightening than the last. He wants to get in her face and ask her why she didn't call him and have him come to the hospital to be with her. As the words pile up in his head it occurs to him that she didn't call because she has never had anyone to call before now. She has handled every crisis in her life alone. Habit dictated her solitude today more than preference. It's one of those things she's going to have to learn.

"None of the tests show anything physical and Martha doesn't think they're going to but she'll call if something shows up. Barring any surprises at this point she and George are in agreement that I'm having panic attacks."

The relief that floods him is so intense he almost laughs. "Panic attacks? Panic attacks, really? You've never had them before so why would you now?"

She stands and begins to pace, he can see the fear in her movements. "I don't know but if I keep having them George is not going to put me back on the street with a gun. I have to get this figured out because it will mean my badge if I don't."

"When do you see George?" He's concerned, he really is but he's also grateful there isn't something physically wrong with her.

"I'm supposed to call him in the morning and if he has time I'll see him tomorrow." Elliot gets up and comes around the coffee table, pulling her into his arms. She settles against him and is impressed all over again with how firm he is against her. She doesn't want to talk about any of this anymore; it's been too much in one day.

"It's going to be fine Liv, I'm sure it's just all the life changes at once. You'll be fine. We'll be fine." He feels her tense and gently rubs her back to sooth her. He decides to leave it alone because he knows from experience she isn't going to feel any better until she has some answers. His best support will be to keep her from thinking about it as much as he can until then. He feels like an ass for the way he treated her when she came through the door. She didn't leave. She isn't leaving. He decides on a peace offering.

"I'm sorry about all that when you came through the door. I was just worried." She knows what he thought when she didn't come back. She knows he thought she had run and she only has herself to blame. She wants to tell him but she doesn't have the energy or the focus to do it right. She squeezes him a little tighter in response and he smiles when he feels her stomach growl against him. "I made lasagna, it's on the stove."

"Lasagna, huh? Who would have thought you'd be the kind of guy to make lasagna." He can hear the smile in her voice and it relaxes him.

"Hey! I'm not sure if I should be insulted or complimented by that comment." She lets go of a small laugh then and he's assured by the sound of it. "Here I was trying to impress you."

She pulls her head from his neck and looks into his eyes. It strikes her as odd that after all these years he would say he was trying to impress her. "Trying to impress me? Did you cook naked because that would have really impressed me?" She watches his eyes spark with the turn of the conversation.

"I considered it but without you here to watch I figured it was a waste. I was going to strip as I cooked and end up wearing just an oven mitt." She tries to maintain but the laughter gets the best of her as she pictures him standing naked with her lobster shaped over mitt propped up on his erect cock. Her laughter is ringing through the room now. "Now you'll have to wait until I'm in the mood to make lasagna again to see it."

She pulls completely out of his arms and walks toward the kitchen. "Well if I go and drop this one into the trash you'll be in the mood a lot quicker." He hurries into the kitchen behind her but pauses when he sees her peel back the foil on the dish. "Okay, you can strip for me next time, this look delicious and I'm starving. I'll think of some other way you can impress me after dinner." He grins and turns to get plates from the cupboard.

He's worried about what he thinks is obvious, that the panic attacks have something to do with him. There's also the possibility that the tremendous stress from being undercover could have triggered something. Then there's the place that his mind doesn't want to go, to the possibility that some terrible thing happened to her while she was gone and suppressing it is causing the attacks. All of the options are terrifying for one reason or another.

"EL!" Her shout startles him back into the moment. "Quit daydreaming about later and get those plates over here so I can serve this." She already has a piece of lasagna up on a spatula ready to go so he slips the plate underneath. He doesn't want her to know why he was so distracted so he tries to look guilty.

"You left me with that thought about impressing you and I was just thinking of all the ways I could do that."

It's a game that they're playing, pretending everything is okay with each other while they figure out how to discuss it. It makes her think of a program she watched on how the brain will create new pathways to communicate when part of it has been damaged. It feels strange to her to have to think about what she's going to say to him, to give sound to the voice in her head that she usually keeps silent from others. It helps to know he isn't the greatest communicator either. His own struggle is often clear to her in his expression. They're already learning though because they were able to diffuse their anger and talk pretty quickly today. It gives her a tentative feeling of hope.

They sit at the table and she smiles as she studies the layers and then cuts a healthy bite. She moans her approval, knowing that he's waiting for it. Satisfied that she likes the food he digs in himself. After the beers he needs something in his stomach before he slips into complete jerk mode. They eat in silence for a few minutes and then he gets up and opens a bottle of red wine.

"Sorry, I almost forgot about the wine." He pours for both of them and then sits back in his seat.

"I'll forgive you because the lasagna is so good I hadn't noticed yet." She wishes she had a switch to shut down her brain so she could just relax. There are far too many things racing around in her head.

When she looks at him he's holding up his glass for a toast so she taps hers against it. "To us Liv, where ever the road goes at least we're on it together."

"Is that an old Irish saying?" She chases the light conversation to adjust her mood.

"Yeah you know the Irish; they have a million of them. Most of them are drinking toasts." He can tell that she's still distracted and still struggling within herself. His lasagna is good but she's eating with far too much intensity.

"Tell me some of them. The only ones I know I learned in college." She couldn't repeat most of the ones she knew from college, not even to him.

She sets down her fork and lifts her glass to his, waiting. "May the lilt of Irish laughter lighten every load, may the mist of Irish magic shorten every road...and may all your friends remember, all the favors you are owed."

She can't help it, she smiles. She takes another bite of lasagna and keeps smiling. "If I counted how many favors you owe me from just doing paperwork I'd be set for life." He starts chuckling and she raises her glass again. "Tell me another one."

"You trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?" The smile reaches his eyes and she can see the glint of desire there.

"I don't need to get you drunk to do that." He starts laughing then and lifts his glass.

"An Irishman is never drunk as long as he can hold onto one blade of grass and not fall off the face of the earth." He clinks his glass as her laughter begins and he can finally feel himself settling down. "Now you tell me one that you remember." He pushes his empty plate away and pours them both a refill.

"Birds do it and fly, bees do it and die, dogs do it and stick to it, why can't I?" His laughter bursts from him and he has to set his glass down so he doesn't spill it. She's actually blushing a little and he wishes he could remember her forever the way she is now, disheveled but painfully sexy, her cheeks pink with color and laughter spilling from her.

"Hey drink up and it's your turn to tell me another one." She takes an extra sip and waits for him.

"May those that love us, love us, and those that don't love us, may God turn their hearts, and if he doesn't turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles, so we'll know them by their limping." Their glasses touch once again and she begins to feel that soft hum in her head that signals the unraveling of the last of her tension.

"I really like that one. It would make life so much easier if all the jerks had a limp." He grabs their plates and sets them in the sink pausing to cover the lasagna and set it in the fridge before returning to the table.

"Okay, the balls in your court Benson, surely you have another one."

"Here's to Eve the mother of our race, who wore her fig leaf in the right place. Here's to Adam the father of us all, who was Johnny-on-the-spot when the leaf did fall." He's amused that hers has a biblical reference in it. They toast and she watches him drink, watches his neck work as he swallows the wine. She wants to place her lips in the dip where shadows form and taste him. His voice draws her eyes back to him.

"May God grant you many years to live, for sure he must be knowing, the earth has angels all too few and heaven is overflowing..." His eyes are on her now and his mood has clearly shifted from feeling good to wanting to feel her. He taps her glass and they drink.

She arches her brow at him in question. "You have met me right? I've been called many things in my life time but not once has anyone referred to me as an angel."

"You may not have heard it but I'd be willing to bet there's a city full of women out there who think of you as exactly that." She looks away because although she knows she's good at her job her heart aches when she thinks of the victims. What she does for them seems like so little in the face of all they have to overcome. Her voice becomes soft and for a second he sees something in her he clearly recognizes, the weight of all she's witnessed.

"I'm no angel." She's clearly uncomfortable and he didn't mean for that to happen. She finishes off her glass so he pours the last bit of the bottle into it and lifts his one last time.

"May we have those in our arms that we love in our heart." As her dark eyes swallow him he knows so clearly that he's defenseless in the face of how he feels for her. They empty their glasses together.

She shakes her head and smiles. "That Irish inclination to drink came with a poet's romantic heart. I never would have guessed." He stands, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet.

She slips her arms around his waist and pulls him against her. She's in awe at the sense of security she gets just from being against him like this. She turns her face into his neck and nuzzles down. They just stand there in the kitchen for a little while. He knows she needs something from him right now so he quietly lets her hold onto him and he prays that it's enough.

Against the background of the city traffic he hears her whisper into his flesh. "I can't loose my shield Elliot, I just can't. I don't know who I'd be without it."

The sound of her is so hollow it causes something in him to tighten to a painful degree. "You're not going to loose your badge. This is just a matter of getting worked out whatever it is that has you tensing up."

"If this gets out no one is going to want to partner with me. Who's going to go on the streets with someone that's having panic attacks? Once that trust is broken you know how it is, I'll never get it back."

"Hey, hey, slow down. First of all, no one has to know about this. Huang is bound by confidentiality at the moment and you haven't told anyone else. I would still trust you to have my back. I know you and above all else you're a good cop, no matter what else is going on, you're still a good cop."

"Great you're the one person that would still trust me and we can't be partners anymore. I don't even know how you can say you would trust me out there. I could freeze up and be unable to defend myself, much less you. I don't even trust myself." He feels her stiffen in his arms, the tension within her mounting. He steps away from her and walks her to the sofa. He sits at the end and she turns her back to him, tucking herself against his side. His arm goes over her shoulder and she holds his hand in her lap. She lets herself relax until she's molded to his side. He's just about to ask her what she's doing when he realizes it's easier for her to talk to him if she's not looking at him. The Catholics had this figured out years ago with the design of the confessional. Fear and sin both tend to rise to the surface in the dark.

"Even if Huang clears me how will I know it won't happen on the job?"

"Because if he clears you he has already figured out what the trigger is for the attacks." He squeezes her hand gently in reassurance.

"You know how much I hate having to go in there so he can probe around in my head." Her grip on his fingers tightens with her frustration.

"Well, then try to make it as painless as possible. Go back to when you had the attacks, what you were thinking and doing that lead up to the feeling of panic. Start there and try to figure out for yourself what the moments have in common. The more you know going into the appointment the less you'll have to do with him staring at you." He wishes he could see her face now because he wants to know if she's responding to him. He presses his lips to the back of her head trying to will her thoughts to slow down.

"When I took off my shirt for my exam this afternoon my doctor wanted to know if I was dating a cannibal." It takes a second for her statement to sink in but its impact causes him to rumble with laughter. She's shifting gears so fast he's having trouble keeping up with her.

The solid feel of his arm across her is like a human seatbelt and she likes the weight of it against her. When he laughs it vibrates through her back and raises goose bumps on her front. She loves that he isn't like any of the other men she's ever dated. He doesn't try to redirect her when her conversations wander all over the place. He doesn't try to force her to a topic he can tell she's avoiding. He doesn't feel the need to graffiti the silence with awkward pointless questions. He's learned over the years to let her wander around in her head until she's gathered enough courage to deal with the things she finds difficult. He accepts her the way she is and even though she sees herself as damaged goods the truly astounding thing to her is that he doesn't.

She turns her body so her knees press into the back cushion and then she lays her head on his chest. He puts his arms around her but she's moving again. She scoots herself back but runs into his thigh so she lifts up onto his lap. After one more round of restless adjustments she has settled herself on his lap with her head on his shoulder and her arms tucked against his chest. It reminds him of when Kathleen was just a few years old. She was too stubborn to ask for comfort but she would climb onto the sofa and come over and lift his arm and crawl into his lap. He's fully aware that Olivia is not a child and if he was to relay the story to her she would be embarrassed and withdraw from him. Instead he settles his arms around her and holds her. She puts her arm over his, appreciative that he's giving her the mental space she needs while still offering her the security of his nearness.

He sits with her for a long time in the still of the room as it grows dim. He knows she isn't sleeping because occasionally he feels her lashes dust across his skin. He remembers that earlier she said they should sleep in their own beds tonight and he wonders if he should mention it now. He doesn't want to say anything. If he says he should go she'll agree just to prove to herself that she doesn't need him. He knows her. He also knows that right now she's seeking comfort so he isn't going to move a muscle unless she makes him.

She likes hearing his heart beat when she presses her ear to his chest. She likes the way his scent strokes her, beginning as a comfort and ending in arousal. Her fingertips drag lightly down his chest, following the lines of him in her own self entertainment. She feels his nipple through his shirt and firmly rubs the pad of her thumb back and forth until it hardens. She hears the soft gasp that shifts in his breathing and smiles. Her desire for him is such a simple thing, something she so completely understands. She surrenders herself to it now, letting it spread in rough waves down her limbs and out to her fingertips.

She stands suddenly and he's surprised by her movement. She takes his hand and tugs until he stands with her. She pulls his shirt until he lifts his arms and lets her take it from him. When it clears his face he's grinning at her. She jerks his undershirt out of his pants and moves around to his back.

"Hey, where are you going?" His shirt comes over his head and is dropped to the sofa.

"I'm not going anywhere El." The answer seems bigger than the question and he tilts his head, wondering over her mood. He arches when he feels her lips on his back. Her mouth is hot, pressing open mouth kisses down his shoulder blade. When she nips his skin his dick lurches. Her mouth moves to his spine, her tongue dances down the ridges chasing chills down his flesh. He's amazed at the heat pouring from her hands, blazing a path as they move down his sides. He watches her hands as she curves her fingers and drags her nails around to his abdomen. She sinks her teeth into his shoulder as she presses herself against his back and he watches his dick bulge just below her hands. He closes his eyes and feels his jeans loosen as the button pops through the hole and the zipper slides down.

His hands are flexing at his sides with the urge to touch her. He tips up his head and breathes through his mouth, seeking more air than there is in the room. She wishes she could memorize every inch of him because although he now feels familiar to her, it's not enough. She thought as she indulged herself in him in these last few days that she would begin to feel like he belonged to her. Instead she still feels like she's on borrowed time with him and her need blooms exponentially every time he drives himself into her.

She slips one hand past the elastic of his underwear and protects his penis as she pushes everything down over his hips. He feels her smile against the back of his neck as her fingers tighten around the hard length of him. She strokes him root to tip one time and a rough moan echoes into the room. She releases him and steps away long enough to squat down and rid him completely of his remaining clothing. She sighs with the sheer satisfaction of having him totally naked.

Her mouth and hands return to him, moving over the perfectly defined muscles in his back with new hunger. He arches and rolls his shoulders so everything shifts beneath her touch. She flattens her palms against him and drags them down to the magnificent slope of his ass. She squeezes and is amazed that her fingers barely make a dent in the solid muscle. He flexes them and her breath is a hot flame skimming over his skin as she laughs. She presses her body into him, rubbing the soft curls of her pussy across his cheeks. The sensation is more than he can bear so he turns to face her, desperate to touch her. He wonders when she managed to shed the rest of her clothing.

He settles his hands on the natural slope of her hips and forces himself to let her continue at her own pace. He alternates tensing his pecs as she touches them and she can't help but grin. While her hands dance over his chest she places an open mouth kiss over his heart, gently sucking at his skin. His hands slide up her sides and begin feather light stroking on the outside curve of her breasts. Her nipples harden and her shoulders draw forward from the tightening of desire in her chest. Her stomach quivers with the ache passing through her while her body coils with need. She nips a path from his collar bone to his ear lobe and then flicks it with her tongue as she takes it in her mouth. When she grinds her hips up his erection play time is suddenly over.

He tips up her chin and captures her mouth with his; letting the burn between them intensify as his tongue strokes hers. His fingers close hard around her nipple and a groan rips from her. She's rocking against him now, her hands pressing his hips as she moves in a satisfying rhythm. He feels her wetness gliding over his cock, teasing him and preparing him all at once. He steps away from her suddenly and before she can protest he scoops her up into his arms. A small yelp escapes her and she grabs a hold of him to stop the sensation that she's falling.

"Elliot!" The exasperation in her tone says everything.

His mouth drops next to her ear as he heads toward the bedroom. "Shhhhh, relax Olivia and just let me take you." The aching low timbre of his voice in her ear causes a hot rush over her skin. She knows he meant take her to the room but her mind already has him taking her so many other ways. Naked in his arms she's impressed by the wall of hard strength that carries her effortlessly down the hall. His rock hard arms feel completely secure and she would die before telling him how fucking sexy she really thinks this is.

He lays her down on the bed and eases himself down next to her. Her fingers are running over the scar on his arm. She was there with him when so many of the scars on his body were made. Her thoughts swim through all the moments she witnessed him injured as her hands seek and stroke each scar they left behind. How could she have been so intimately involved in those moments and not have touched the results until now?

He lifts his head from her neck, "why are you scowling?" She relaxes her expression when he speaks and gathers a smile for him. He's aware that her hands have been tracing the scars on his body and he wants to draw her thoughts away from those dark places. She slides her leg up over his hip and pulls herself closer to him.

"I saw so many things happen to you over the years. It just seems strange that I know when each of these injuries happened and I'm just now getting to touch them." She doesn't think her words are accurately describing how she feels and a small frustrated sigh tells him as much as her voice.

His mouth drops down and his lips capture the scar on her neck, sucking softly before his eyes come back to hers. "I know."

It's all she needs to hear because the truth of it is exactly who they are, reflections of everything they know about the world and everything they learned about each other. His mouth covers hers and his hand cups her breast, taking what has really belonged to him all along.

She spreads her legs and the head of him nudges at her. She arches up and eases the hard thick length of him into her eager wetness. She's pulsing around him as he pushes deeper and deeper until there is nothing left between them. She grabs his ass with one hand to hold him there and keeps clenching in a hard slow rhythm. He groans into her throat overwhelmed by her ability to nearly fuck him without moving. He tips his hips harder against her and a low moan vibrates in her chest. He moves his mouth down her neck and then slowly draws himself out until only her lips are wrapped around the head of him. He pauses for just a second before driving hard all the way back into her. She bows up into him, crying out from the sheer intensity of it. He moves his mouth to her breast and nips at her nipple just as he thrusts into her again.

She thinks she's going to grab his head to pull him away, it's too much, too sensitive but as he pushes inside her again she just holds on instead. Her body arches up into him and she's loud, she knows she is but she can't reel herself back in and the force of him tangles her voice with her breath as it leaves her. When he drags himself past her swollen walls with agonizing slowness once again she suppresses a scream. Her hands both sit on his ass now and her nails bite into his flesh. She presses her head back into the pillow and his mouth moves to her other breast.

'"Go, dear god just go." Her voice is a low rasp into the damp air. He pauses in surprise, hovering at her entrance.

The sound of the sharp slap rings into the room and burns across his cheek causing him to clench and gasp in shock. "I said go, Elliot." The stillness is shattered by a hard growl and then the pounding slam of his body. Their voices blend into one rolling sound as he pistons himself inside of her like a ravenous beast unleashed in the darkness. Everything becomes a blur of movement and wetness and sound rushing and thundering into a mind numbing crash. Her scream pierces his thoughts a second before her body locks down with vice like force fisting around his dick and triggering his explosion within her. He grunts with the effort of remaining inside of her, lurching against her as the searing white bursts surge through him. Her body is a plane of solid muscle arching up against him, damp and trembling.

She feels like she's drowning in her own senses. The rushing in her ears is too loud, the heat and sweat have left her sensitive skin slipping against him and there are stars of light bursting behind her closed eyes. Her heart is thumping furiously inside her and her breaths are rasping in the effort to bring her air. She may be thirstier than she has ever been in all her life. She has no point of reference in her entire history for how she feels. This isn't sex anymore. This isn't making love or fucking either. This is something that has crawled outside descriptive language. She has no words so she doesn't speak.

He's still braced above her and he can feel her body shaking beneath him and her muscles still twitching madly around his dick. He doesn't think she's cold, he knows the trembling comes from somewhere else. He puts his leg outside of hers and tries to gracefully roll them over together. As he lands on his back her hips shift and he slips from inside her with a soft wet sound.

"Damn." Her voice is clear in the quiet of the room.

He starts to chuckle. In all honesty he was trying to stay tucked inside her as they settled. She tightens her arms around his chest but drops her hip next to him so her body can get some air. The hair along the back of her neck is damp and clinging to her skin. She's about to reach for it when she feels his hand lift it off her neck and she smiles.

"You slapped my ass." He delivers the line in a deadpan tone and tries to hold his laughter. His cheek is still a little warm and he knows if he looked he could still see the outline of her hand.

"I needed you to move and besides from your reaction I gather you didn't really mind." She knew she had swatted him harder than she had intended, her fingers and palm stung and then flushed warm from the impact. He's laughing now and she realizes her shaking is subsiding.

"No, I didn't mind at all but just remember that old saying that turn about is fair play." Even as the words leave his lips her body flushes. No she won't mind especially if it ends like it did just now. He had been so incredibly deep inside her and she had so desperately needed to feel the hot friction of him moving within in that when he burst into action she almost exploded. As she recalls she was in fact yelling, or moaning or whatever that was pouring out of her.

"I suppose it is." She feels him still beneath her and she almost laughs out loud because she knows he has that stunned look on his face.

His hand slides down and caresses the globe of her ass as though he's visiting the idea of it. In his head all he can hear is his own voice asking for clarification. Did she just give him permission to spank her? During sex? His dick is not capable of getting hard right now but he knows that the next time it does it will be because this thought is still burning in his head. He cups her cheek against his palm and thinks about the sound it will make and how her pussy will seize around his dick and rush wet from the stinging. His handprint will be on her ass.

"Elliot, breathe." As he releases the air in his lungs she lets go of her laugh. She pulls away from him and gets out of bed. "I'll be right back." He watches he walk down the hall and closes his eyes to block out the images. Even the thought of her may kill him. He hears her rummaging in the kitchen and then turning off lights and coming back down the hall.

She climbs onto the bed holding two bottles of water and a small bowl full of grapes. She takes a long drink of her water as she hands him his bottle. She pops a grape in her mouth and smiles at him. "They're great when you're thirsty." She drops one on his tongue when he opens his mouth and he grins. She takes the next one and places it between her lips and leans down to him. He sucks the grape from her lips and kisses her. She sits back up and tosses one in the air, efficiently catching it in her mouth.

"Nice catch." Her eyes meet his and he's struck by this image of her, naked and tangled in the sheets with him eating grapes as though this is how they have always shared a snack. There are a dozen marks on her body from his mouth and looking at them causes a tingling sensation in his dick. She grins at him and bounces a grape in her palm.

"Ready?" He nods and she tosses it up above him. He arches his neck and catches it easily. She throws him a few more before setting the bowl on the nightstand with the water and sliding in next to him. She drapes herself half over him and sighs deeply, settling herself despite the early hour. She closes her eyes because right now she thinks she can rest. She feels him kiss her forehead and she lies still, listening to his heart beat. His hand is stroking through her hair and he wishes he could hold onto this night because he knows how difficult tomorrow will be for both of them.