Failure to Thrive Chapter 9
Disclaimer: They are not mine and if they're ever given to me you'll know because this show will immediately have to go to a cable network for the content rating.
Warning: Still sexually explicit enough to require a 'for mature readers only' label.
A/N: Thanks to those of you that have remained loyal to this story after so long. I seem to be getting back in the grove so there will be more to come. As always your comments are welcomed and greatly appreciated.
Her ferocious need for him is still reverberating through her body as she steps into the shower. Jesus, despite all the crushing complications she wants him to fuck her until he drives that aching pulse out of her depths. Even as she slides her hand between her legs she knows the orgasm she's reaching for is not going to settle her. Her desire for him has exploded and left her a hollow shell throbbing in anticipation of his filling her. Her fingers sink inside her wet folds and she immediately begins stroking herself. The feel of him is still on her skin, in her mouth. She licks her lips to taste him and her hand moves faster. When the fingers of her other hand begin tugging at her nipple she feels the coil within her begin to tighten.
She pictures him sitting on the sofa when she was straddling his lap but in her mind he's naked. She remembers the moment she arched her hips against his erection while she presses on her clit and her thighs tremble with the beginning of her orgasm. Her body arches and shudders in the humid air, clenching around her fingers in spasms of pleasure. A small whimper escapes her but it's rooted more in her frustration than her pleasure. It isn't enough and it won't be until it's him.
She turns into the cold tile trying to ease the heat pouring off of her skin. She presses her cheek, breasts and hips firmly against the shiny ceramic squares. She was freezing all morning and now she's on fire, on fire from the heat of him. She lets the cool surface leech some of the heat from her skin before turning around and pressing her back into the wall. She forces herself to stand under the water and begins washing her hair. She can't stop the huge smile on her face which is odd because she's not a woman that is inclined to standing around grinning like an idiot. She starts laughing softly and it releases a feeling in her chest like champagne bubbles that make her laugh harder. She has that feeling again, wild and free, all at once falling and flying.
This is crazy, to feel this way is completely crazy. She's going to crash and burn and it's going to make that accident feel like a walk in the park. The panic prickles her skin but does not take hold. She doesn't even know what to make of the whole situation. She's spent all her life fighting. She's fought against injustice and abuse on her job. She's fought against violence and alcoholism in her genes. She's fought against discrimination and prejudice in her career. Perhaps it's time she fought for something. Perhaps it's time she fought for something that is purely for her. More than anything she's afraid of wanting this because life has taught her that the key to avoiding disappointment is to not have any expectations.
She finishes in the shower and steps out, now wondering what she's going to say to Elliot. For the first time since she met him she's unsure of how to act. She dries herself off and looks at herself in the mirror. She can see the edges of the bruises have changed which means that her body is trying to heal. She has that giddy feeling again and that in itself is throwing her off because she just isn't used to it. She knows he thinks that waiting for the divorce to be final is an act of nobility on his part but that isn't what matters to her. She needs some type of assurance from him that this is real and solid. He signed the papers and went back before so the paperwork isn't the issue. He's the issue. Trust is the issue.
She tucks the towel around herself and walks out of the bathroom running her hand through the last of the tangles in her hair. She's going to call to Elliot to make some iced tea while she dresses but when she reaches the end of the hallway she sees him still sitting exactly where she left him.
"Hey El will you make some iced tea while I'm getting dressed?" He starts as though he has been deep in thought and gets up and heads to the kitchen.
"Sure would you…" He stops walking and talking as soon as he sees her. She's in a towel, nothing but a towel. His fingers ache with a yearning to graze over terry cloth. He stares at her, his eyes roaming slowly down and then back up her form.
When his eyes at last come to rest on hers she smiles. "Would I what?"
He has forgotten that he was speaking. He has forgotten what he could have possibly been about to say because right now the only words in his head are holy shit. She's damp and tan and only wearing a towel and he can no longer think or breathe. His dick however is working.
She asked him something and he was responding. What did she come out here and say? His eyes keep dropping down to her long bare legs. He watches her weight shift from one to the other and knows she must be growing impatient but when he looks back up she's more amused than anything. Just as she arches her brow at him in question he remembers, the tea.
"I was asking if you wanted regular or raspberry, I'll make a pitcher." He's pleased with himself for calling up the question while she has him so distracted so he's grinning.
"Raspberry sounds good, thanks." She turns to walk away and because she knows he's watching just before she reaches the door she loosens the towel so it drops down to her hips. She hears him gasp as she walks into her room and closes the door.
It was intentional, the towel and he knows it and she did it because she knew he would be looking. His brain is like a skipping disk playing the scene over and over. The movement of her shoulder blades framing the line of her back down to the dimples sitting at the rise of her ass. He feels light headed and thinks it could actually be from the immediate rush of blood to his dick.
He wonders how long it will take him to get his paperwork through. The flicker of excitement over his divorce papers causes a rush of guilt. He still has to go talk to his children and he wants to see the baby for a little while. At the same time he has no desire to leave Olivia right now. He's afraid if she has time to think it through by the time he returns she'll be back to driving him away. Still, he has to go; he owes it to them to be honest. He runs the cold water and searches the cupboards until he finds a pitcher. He takes four cold brew bags and dips them into the water, looping their strings around the handle and placing the whole thing in the fridge. He wonders how it would feel to have this simple domestic life with her.
He chuckles then because he knows nothing about her will ever be simple and although the word domestic came into his head the image that pops up with it is purely pornographic. He has to get his hard on to settle down but he's sure that if he asks to take a shower right now it'll look suspicious. The last time he had to think about relieving himself in the middle of the day because his dick kept getting hard he was just a teenager. It seems as though now that he has given himself permission to think of her in a sexual way, he can't stop.
Olivia dresses slowly, a little embarrassed by her own brazen behavior. She hears Elliot talking softly in the other room and realizes he must be calling home. Home. He has a home and five children. He has a newborn that he should be with right now. Reality slams into her with a force great enough to shake her. Even if how he feels about her is real he still has a wife and family. She needs to convince him that it's okay to go spend some time with them. She takes a deep breath and pulls a sweat shirt over her head. Despite her shower she thinks she can still smell him on her.
Every thought she has feels weighted with ambiguity. It will do her good to have some time to herself to relax without the idea of him all over her.
He knows the moment she comes into the room that she has mentally shifted. He's glad that something in the way she carries herself tells him that she's feeling stronger.
"Did I hear you on the phone?" She goes to the fridge and pours herself some of the tea, pausing to drop ice into the glass before turning back to him.
"Yeah, I called to talk to the kids for a few minutes." He doesn't hesitate or hide it and she appreciates that he isn't tip toeing around the topic.
"You should go home and spend some time with them. I'm sure they're confused by everything that's going on right now." She sounds concerned without being pushy and isn't sure how to read her. He watches her for a moment so she decides to continue. "It's okay El, I'm okay. You need to talk to your wife and kids. I'm not going anywhere." She smiles reassuringly at him and sees his shoulders relax a few inches. He steps in front of her but doesn't touch her yet.
"Are you sure you're okay because you looked like you were okay the last time I walked away from you and I couldn't have been more wrong." He isn't being malicious, just honest and she thinks he's needed to comment on that situation.
"I said that I'm fine and you're just going to have to take my word for it. I'm not your responsibility Elliot." Her voice is deceptively soft for the weight of the feelings behind it. He closes the last step between them and gently brushes her bangs from her eyes so he can see her bruise. He barely brushes his lips over it before placing a kiss in the center. The tenderness makes her ache deep in her core.
"This scared me Olivia. I can't spare you. My actions are as much for my own protection as they are for yours." Her anger and defenses deflate at his words. His lips brush her temple and sprinkle kisses down her jaw to her other bruise. When his tongue slides over the darkened flesh she grasps his waist.
His hands stroke down her arms and he can feel her tremble. "Liv, if this is too much for you…" He holds his breath looking at her.
"No, it isn't that. It's just that I can't afford to be wrong and I'm not sure if what you feel is real." Her eyes have gone almost black and the light in them moves. He thinks of quicksilver sliding effortlessly across a smooth surface as he watches her. He leans in then and grazes his lips over hers. He lets the heat of them leap between their lips as he passes back and forth. His touch takes her back to the beginning when everything was new and the only connection between them was the electricity.
He presses his lips on her now, barely tasting her. He's reminding her of how it felt to know there was this energy between them as his tongue slides over her lips and he nips at the fullness of her lower one. All those years the sparks danced between the two of them and they found their perfect rhythm without touching.
He touches her now though.
His hand slides up her neck and cups her head so he can pull her closer to him. His whole body reaches for her as she spreads her lips and he sweeps his tongue into her mouth. He lets it grow between them as it always has while he kisses her with every kind of want he's ever felt for her.
He knows the instant she surrenders to it and begins kissing him back. Her mouth slants across his no longer receiving but seeking. Her hands slide around him greedily seeking the firm planes of his back. As impossibly strong as he's always felt next to her she never imagined he'd feel this solid against her. The thought of how powerful he'll feel inside her flutters into her brain and she grows wet with anticipation.
The kiss deepens and she fights the fear and arousal swirling within her. She pulls away from his mouth and tucks her head against his neck to catch her breath. The wall of his chest rises hard against her breasts and she thinks she can feel his heart pounding although it may just be her own.
"You should go El. It's okay; I understand that you have obligations." She wishes she sounded stronger but every gasp of air she takes is filled with him. The astounding part for her is how completely she doesn't want to pull away.
"When I come back later will I have to pound on the door until the neighbors threaten to call the police?" He feels her stiffen in his arms but she doesn't pull away. He feels her breath hot on his neck and begins smoothing his hand down her back to reassure her.
"No." She knows she probably owes him more than this simple answer but her words are stuck inside her head.
"Will you be here when I get back?" It's the question he really wanted to ask and both of them know it as soon as it leaves his lips.
She knows she deserves that but it doesn't make it any easier to take. She pulls out of his grasp and he braces himself for her reaction, an explosion or at least total shut down should be headed his way. He's surprised that she remains standing right in front of him and waits until he's looking at her again. She seems to study him for a moment before walking away. His head drops in defeat and he wonders if being an impulsive asshole is an actual mental condition.
His head jerks up when she touches his hand because he wasn't even aware she had come back into the room. She doesn't say anything; she just lifts his hand in her and presses something into his palm. It takes him a moment to get it. He's underestimated her once again. A slow smile spreads across his face as he looks at her.
"Okay?" She looks at him with her eyes wide waiting for him to acknowledge that he understands.
"Okay." He leans down and kisses her cheek. "I'll be back in a little while. Call me if you need anything."
"You can pick up dinner on your way back." She smiling at him now, relieved.
"Okay, I'll call you when I'm leaving the house so think about where you want me to stop." His hand cups her jaw, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "Thank you." He knows it was a step for her, a step toward him. His other hand squeezes her keys before dropping them into his pocket. He pulls on his jacket and flashes her one last grin before disappearing out the door.