A/N: I'm so glad y'all aren't threatening bodily harm for the lack of real smut (not to mention updates) and all the teasing! But you know it's going to happen – they have a kid! Wouldn't it be funny if I made it like she was the immaculate conception? Evil author laugh Kidding! Sam would dump my lifeless body in the Hudson. That's how those Jersey girls are, you know.

Disclaimer: Only my overactive imagination is mine!

POV: Elliot

--

I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. That she wouldn't be that easy. And really, as much as it pains me (truly. pains me) to admit, she's right to push me away. Sex isn't going to solve our problems. We really need to work on rebuilding our relationship – our partnership first, our friendship second, and… whatever that kiss was… we'll have to work on that later. But we will work on it.

I fold my arms behind my head and close my eyes to sleep, resolving to build everything I shared with my best friend – and at the very least get her to kiss me again.

--

Sometime later, I wake with a start, feeling someone watching me. I glance up to find Olivia standing next to the bed, a fearful expression on her face.

"Liv, what's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing. Nevermind. This is stupid," she mutters, turning on her heel to leave. I reach out and grab her wrist, effectively stopping her retreat.

"Just tell me," I say softly. "You used to tell me everything."

"Yeah, well," she shrugs a shoulder as if that should explain everything.

"Yeah, well, what? What's the matter, Liv?"

"I hate new places," she admits.

"Why?" I question stupidly, never stopping to think that brass-balls Benson might ever actually get scared of anything.

She shrugs again and shifts nervously from foot to foot. "New noises. You'd think," she pauses and laughs like she finds what she's saying completely ridiculous. "With my mom and everything… I wouldn't be this… scared little girl," she admits, and I can tell she's holding back tears. "But I hate sleeping in a new place. Motels even freak me out!" she does this half-laugh, half-choked cry thing that shatters my heart. I hold back the covers and she gasps.

"Relax, Liv. I've got boxers on," I smile. "Get in."

"Are you sure?" she asks tentatively.

"Olivia, get in the bed." She walks around to the other side and pulls back the covers. "What's wrong with this side?" I ask.

"You're there," she shrugs.

"Worried?" I ask.

"Only about my own self-control," she mutters dryly.

"C'mon, Liv. Let me hold you. Totally harmless, clothes on, and I promise I not to try to make your every fantasy come true," I grin.

"Gee. Thanks, Elliot."

I laugh and pull her into my arms once she slides between the soft sheets. "No problem."

She settles in, squirming around for a little bit, making herself a warm little next in my bed, not to mention settling her ass right against my crotch. Christ. Does she do this on purpose?! I resolve to man up and hold back . I promised her no funny business, and I'm going to keep that promise even if it means I have to remember the batting average of every player the Yanks ever recruited to keep myself calm.

Somewhere along the 1968 roster between Mickey Mantle and Bobby Cox, I can feel Olivia's fingers drifting softly over my arms.

"You still awake?" I ask.

"Yeah," she replies. "But I feel lots better. Thank you."

"Anytime. You want to talk?"

"'Bout what?" she replies absently.

"Whatever," I shrug.

She sighs heavily. "Well, I mean, if we're going to work on this case… maybe we should talk about… everything."

"Of course. I should have known you'd want to talk about girl crap," I tease her dryly.

She shoves an elbow back into my ribs with a giggle. "Jerk," she pouts.

"It's been a long time since I heard that giggle. I miss it," I say softly.

"Oh shut up, El. I laugh all the time."

"Not like that. You have a different laugh sometimes. A more… genuine one." She elbows me in the ribs again. "What the hell was that for?!" I ask, rubbing the affected area.

"For calling me fake."

"What?! I said I miss your laugh!"

"It's more genuine," she mocks in a terrible impression of me.

"Is that your impression of me?" I scoff.

"Mhm," she responds smugly.

"Really? Who else can you do?" I tease.

"Hmmm… Munch in conspiracy theory mode, Cragen talking around a mouthful of red vines, oh and I do you in interrogation really well." The words do you in interrogation were bouncing off the walls of my brain.

"I'd love to see you do me in interrogation sometime," I tease.

"That's not what I – shut up," she grins, flustered at first the noticing my teasing smirk.

"Shut up? Oh I'll shut you up all right," and then I turn on her, flipping her on her back and proceeding to tickle the hell out of her. She starts laughing that great giggle until she's gasping for breath.

"Stop! Stop!"

"Beg me! Beg for mercy!" I tease.

"Please! I'll do anything," she gasps, tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks. She's pinned beneath me, wriggling to get away and I don't know what happens, but some force possesses me to kiss her. And just like the kiss in her bedroom, it nearly knocks me unconscious.

Suddenly, she stops fighting me and threads her fingers into my hair, giving a sharp little tug, which drags me back to my senses.

"Sorry," I say. "I promised."

"Eh, a little making out never hurt anyone," she reneged.

"But you said…"

"El, for tonight, why don't you just forget about me and my bright ideas," she requests.

"Just for tonight?" I ask.

"We'll see," she replies, bringing my mouth back down to hers.

Remembering she had said 'make out' not 'screw each other stupid,' I work to keep myself under control. My hands, however, have apparently either lost contact with my brain or developed a mind of their own, because the next thing I know, one of them is sneaking to the hem of Olivia's long sleepshirt and pushing it up above her silky thighs. My hand encounters bare flesh where my brain had been expecting to find cotton panties and I think my head may explode. "Liv," I groan, yanking my hand back like it had been burned. Before it can get too far, however, she pushes it back to where it had been.

"Don't. Stop. Touching." she commands.

"Liv," I start.

"Elliot, stop arguing. You could give a girl self esteem problems," she grinds out, pushing herself into my hand. I glance down to where I can feel the heat from her literally burning my flesh. Smooth, perfect skin, a sexy brazillian wax, and my lucky hand right in the middle of it all. Literally. I push two fingers inside her, my thumb stopping to flick her clit while I pump my fingers in a gentle motion, my tongue tangling with hers the whole time. This has become more than an out of body experience. I'm firmly convinced I'm dead and this is Heaven. All those chats with Father Denis have really paid off.

Speaking of firm, the sweet detective has my boys in a tender grip I haven't seen this side of Cinemax at 2am.

"Olivia," I groan.

"What?" she groans back at me as I swipe at her wetness. She arches her back, pushing herself at me, kissing me so hard I think my lungs are going to explode from lack of oxygen.

"Liv," I say her name again, somehow managing to rip my mouth away from hers. "We have to stop. I don't want to, believe me, but you said it yourself. Professional."

"I know," she looks at me, her eyes glazed over and her lips wet from our kissing. She looks like a sex-starved harlot. I love it. "But Elliot?" she asks.

"Yes?"

"Could you make me come first?" she asks, her voice laced with honey and dripping with sex. At that moment, I couldn't have NOT made her come. Couldn't have walked away if I'd wanted to.

"Of course," I answered, resuming kissing her, my hand busily working away on her sex. I can tell she's close by the easy way my fingers are sliding through her, my middle finger flicking hungrily over her clit. Elsewhere, our tongues are dueling for control. Control that I'm losing because between her wet grip on my fingers and her tight grip on my cock, I can't think to save my fucking life. "You first," I grunt when I feel like I'm about to explode. I pinch her clit gently and that's all it takes to have her coming apart in my arms. As soon as that happens, I'm thrown into the middle of my own climax, never wanting the assault on my senses to stop. She brings her fingers to her mouth and gently sucks them off, which, had I not just experienced one of the most explosive climaxes of my life, might have me coming again.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Great," she replies with a gentle smile. "I think I can sleep now," she says, turning back into my embrace and snuggling against me.

Well. That makes one of us.

--

A/N: Well? Hot? It's been hard for me to update this, simply because real life has been so freakin' busy, and I've been having so many plot bunnies attack me for other stuff I want to write. So, question for you: I'm going to start writing for "Bones," (stop panicking, that doesn't mean I'm not going to be writing SVU, it'll just be both. Promise!) – question is – how many of you would read that stuff as well? I know it's hard to get into a fic if you don't watch the show (and if you don't watch Bones, why the hell not? David Boreanaz is totally worth your time. Promise!) so I'm wondering who all watches that and also watches SVU. Let me know! XO, Kinsey