A/N: This one was a definite challenge. Thanks, Jax!
DISCLAIMER: SVU belongs to Dick Wolf, but this story is a TStabler© original.
Olivia was curled up on her couch, under a blanket with arm-holes. It was so warm and soft, keeping her comfortable and calm as she read her book. She had rolled her eyes when Elliot had bought it for her, but she loved it more than she would ever admit.
"Damn it!" she snapped, tossing the book across the room onto the armchair. She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. That was the seventy-fourth time her thoughts had drifted to Elliot, she counted, and she was getting sick of it. She blamed the novel she was reading. "Damn woman has an overactive libido and one hell of an imagination," she mumbled, shaking her head.
But it was not the author who had implanted images in her head of Elliot as the hero and herself as his lover. No, that was all her own warped, little mind. She let her head fall back as the last passage she read swam in her mind. She moaned as the characters came to life behind her eyes, in the form of herself and Elliot, and she felt more than just imagined the narrative.
His calloused hands ran over her body, feeling smooth, so smooth against her skin. His fingertips licked at her frame, sending her into a state of shock, a state of bliss. His lips brushed gently over her...
The knock on the door snapped her out of it. "Good lord," she said, shaking her head as she rose off the couch, shoving her blanket to the side. She looked through the peephole and saw Elliot, his scowl in place and a bag in his hand. "Wonderful," she mumbled sarcastically.
The last thing she needed was him, here, in person. She was distracted because of him, and he was not going to be a welcome distraction from her distraction. He would only make it worse.
She sighed again and opened the door. "What did you do this time?" she asked, one hand on her hip, teasing him. His price for bugging her.
"I don't wanna talk about it," he said to her, snapping a bit. "If this is a problem, I can go to Fin's or..."
"No," she said before he finished. "You know I...I was just...come in," she babbled, wondering why he was so snippy. "Sorry," she uttered as he breezed passed her into the living room.
He sighed. "No, I am," he said, rubbing sleep, or lack thereof, out of his eyes. "I shouldn't have snapped at you." He surveyed the room, which was looking more and more like a library with each passing day. "Shit, Liv, think you got enough books?" he asked, walking over to a shelf.
Olivia scoffed. "No such thing," she said. "In our line of work, it's nice to get lost in someone else's world for a while. Lose sense of reality, slip into a fantasy." Her eyes had glazed over as she stared at him, her own words sending her into a trance, back into her dream-world where he was more than just her partner.
"Some of this is pretty heavy," Elliot said, running his fingers, calloused, she noticed, along the spines of a bit of her collection. "Crime and Punishment, Catch Twenty-Two, Their Eyes Were Watching God?" he listed in question, turning to her.
Olivia was still staring. Imaging those fingers of his on her, in her, making every fairy tale she had ever read come true.
"Liv," Elliot called.
"Huh?" she questioned, blinking, "Oh, uh, yeah. I'm kind of a bookworm." She pointed to the bag and asked, "How long are you staying this time?"
Elliot shrugged. "Does it matter?" he asked, a defeated look in his eyes, silently telling her time didn't matter. That it was over, this was it.
"No. Not really," Olivia said, offering a smile. "Make yourself at home. I'll go find your pants."
"Pants?" Elliot questioned.
"The one's with the Knicks logo all over them," she responded, walking toward her bedroom. "You left them here. I know you love them."
Elliot chuckled, watching her disappear into her bedroom, and sat on the armchair. "Ow, what..." he seethed, shifting as he pulled the book she'd tossed away out from under him. He raised an eyebrow. "Cuffed," he said, reading the title. "Some kind of crime novel? Like she doesn't get enough of this shit at work."
He shook his head and thumbed through the novel, stopping when he realized this was not a mystery or police drama. He felt funny reading it, but he couldn't stop, and suddenly, the story wasn't about fictional characters anymore. He saw similarities between himself and the cop, and Liv was definitely just like the woman he saved.
"This is her escape," he mumbled to himself, smirking. "She wants to lose herself in a fantasy, huh?"
Olivia was still hunting for Elliot's pants when she heard her bedroom door close. She jumped with a light gasp and turned. "El," she said, tilting her head, "What are you..."
He held up the book. "Is this any good?" he asked.
Olivia's eyes widened. "Uh...define good," she said, shielding her embarrassment. "It's not gonna win a Pulitzer any time soon."
"Did it get the job done?" he asked, his eyes narrow and dark. "Did the words hit you, run through you, come to life? Or was something missing?"
Olivia blinked. "It's just a book," she said, looking away from him.
Elliot grabbed her arms and turned her back around. "Yeah, you can't get what you need from a book."
"Son of a bitch," she hissed, humiliation coursing through her. "So I read smutty novels. You watch porn!"
Elliot snickered. "Yeah, we could both use a reality check," he said. "What was your favorite part?" he asked, his hand sliding up her arm.
Olivia blinked. "Of what?" she asked, trying to ignore what his touch was doing to her.
"The book," Elliot said, his eyes roaming her body, his hands following their path. He rested his palms on her hips and repeated, "What was your favorite part?" He held onto her loosely and backed her up into the bed.
Her knees buckled as her legs hit the mattress and she fell back, taking him with her. "Um," she stammered, "The cop, he..."
"Tell me the story," Elliot demanded. He knelt over her, one leg on either side of her body, and pulled his shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt, shimmying out of his jeans. "What happens?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers as the gravity of their situation hit them both.
Olivia, holding his gaze, quoted from memory. "He looked at her in a way that melted both her heart and her resolve," she said, watching his eyes darken, "Forcing her to give into him, succumb to him, submit."
He looked deeply into her eyes, trying to get that exact message across as he tossed off his boxers. He knelt over her again, holding intense contact with her eyes. "What happens next?" he asked, his voice low, soft. His hands slid up, taking her tee shirt with them, and he was surprised when she moved to let him pull it off all the way.
"He touched her, just once, and it was enough to assure her things had changed for the better," she said, her eyes closing as he ran his fingertips over her shoulders and her bra-covered breasts. "Oh, my God," she whispered, gasping slightly when his thumbs grazed over her nipples. "Elliot, what are you doing?" she asked in a moaning whisper.
"You are so beautiful," Elliot said to her, watching her reactions beneath him as he caressed her. "Tell me more," he demanded, his hands moving lower, nudging her black sweatpants down.
Olivia sucked in a breath. Recalling her favorite lines, the veil between fiction and reality blurred as he brought her fantasy to life. "His calloused hands ran over her body, feeling smooth, so smooth against her skin," she recited.
Elliot's hands slid down into her pants, dragging the thick cotton off of her silken legs. He tossed them to the side and placed his hands on her thighs, swirling in intricate patterns. "Yes?" he encouraged, begging her to continue as his fingers hooked into her panties. He lowered them, slowly, watching her. "Baby, go on," he demanded gently, dropping the silk to the floor, his eyes moving to the newly revealed treasure.
"His fingertips licked at her frame, sending her into a state of shock, a state of bliss," Olivia said, as if reading, her breath growing ragged as his hands did, in fact, lick at her body.
Elliot moved his hands over every inch of her skin, and then he made a bold move, sliding one finger up and down her wet, ready, bare slit. "God damn, Liv," he hissed, feeling how slick and eager she was.
She moaned and her hips bucked. She groaned loudly when he brought his finger to his lips, tasting her. "El," she whispered.
Elliot shook his head, not wanting to ruin the moment with an explanation. "Read to me, baby," he said, sliding his hands up her body to her bra, unclasping it. He leaned over, close to her, looking into her eyes. "Tell me what happens next," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.
Olivia moaned again, caught between believing this was real and believing she'd fallen asleep on the couch with the book in her hands. Either way, she was loving it. She moved as he slipped off her bra and said, "His lips brushed gently over hers."
Elliot moved his head from near her neck to her mouth, doing as she'd asked, his lips barely skimming over hers, making his heart stop.
"Their first real kiss," Olivia said, almost inaudibly as she stared directly into his eyes, "Would change everything. Neither was ready for it, but they'd come too far to turn back now, too much had already been lost and there was far too much at stake. She waited, holding her breath, looking deeply into his eyes, waiting for him to decide that he wanted her. That he wanted all of her, because once he placed his lips upon hers, he would indeed have all of her. He knew the harm it could do, that she was fragile. He didn't want to break her, but little did he know, she'd been broken for years."
Elliot tilted his head, understanding now why this was her favorite part. "Baby," he whispered.
"She stayed silent, still, just breathing and gazing longingly at him, begging to be kissed. To be loved. For him to love her," Olivia said, still whisper-quiet, still holding his gaze. "It was his kiss, his hot, sweet kiss, that would finally fix her."
Elliot dropped his head and kissed her, his eyes closing tightly as, at the same time, he pushed into her, feeling her walls stretch around him. His mouth caught her moans and her kiss muffled his grunts. Her fingers wound into his hair and his arms wrapped around her waist.
The kiss went from sweet to salty, and that's when he noticed he was tasting tears. And feeling them. He was crying, as was she, the emotions they'd kept bottled up coming to a head and spilling out in this act of fixing each other, bringing a fantasy to life. He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes, moving slowly out and in, deep and careful. "I love you," he whispered.
Olivia moved one hand from behind his head and swept the tear away from under his left eye. "I love you, too," she said, her eyes closing and her head falling back in ecstasy.
He pulled her head up, thrusting deeply, and as he kissed her, he made the most erotic...buzzing noises.
Olivia groaned, rolling over and smacking her alarm. "Fucking hell," she mumbled into her pillow.
"Sunday," she heard someone murmur to her left. "Go back to sleep," the voice garbled.
She shot one eye open and shifted slightly. There were arms wrapped tightly around her, under her sleep shirt. Strong ones. And calloused fingers, which felt incredibly smooth against her skin, were resting on her body. "El?" she wondered out loud.
"What, baby?" he responded groggily.
"I fell asleep on the couch," she said, turning to look at him.
Elliot took a breath and yawned, nodding. "With a book in your hands," he said. "The one about the cop and the girl who witnessed her mother's murder," he told her with another yawn. "How many times are you gonna read that one?" he asked, running a hand down his face.
"I read it to you once," she said with a smirk. "I think it's pretty clear why it's my favorite book."
Elliot reached out and grabbed her, pulled her close to him and said, "I thought we could try writing our own story. Maybe a new favorite for you." His hands grazed her hips, pulling lightly at her pants as he kissed her again.
Olivia pulled away and smiled down at him as she felt him pushing down her flannel bottoms. "What'd you have in mind?" she asked with a sneaky smirk.
"You're the bookworm," Elliot said, kissing her. "You tell me."
Olivia ran her hands over his bare chest, down to his boxers. She toyed with the waistband and said, "Two stubborn and cynical cops meet and fall in love, but sadly they can't do anything about it, because he's married and she's damaged. One cold and windy night, he shows up at her doorstep, having just left his wife, something he neglects to tell her. She lets him in with the promise of warm pants, and leaves the room for a moment. He sits, and he finds a strange book on the chair, and..."
"I know this story," Elliot said, kissing her, sliding one finger up her wet slit. "You remember how it ends?" he asked, moaning at the feel of her as he slipped his finger into her.
Olivia shook her head. "Hasn't ended yet," she mumbled, kissing him as she twisted his fingers, loving her. Her head reeled from the emotion and the pleasure that coursed through her every time they touched. Her heart thudded as she bucked her hips against his hand, and she smiled. She loved him; he made all of her wildest fantasies real. All because he'd found a book on her chair almost a year ago. She'd never been more thankful that she was a bookworm.
A/N: So...I tried. With a word like "Bookworm," this was the best I could do. I hope it was a nice break from reality.