A/N: I got enough angst to single handedly make a soap opera right now. I found out that the reason my ex left me in the first place was because she fell for a straight girl, my dog who I've had for 10 years is dying, we had to rehome my cat (who I'd had just as long as my dog) two months ago, I've had tons of falling-outs with people I trusted, my family is mad at me because I'm mad at my mom for cursing me out while drunk and several other incidents related to her binge alcoholism, I'm failing a lot of my classes, the anti-bullying group I worked on for years was disbanded by the city because they could no longer afford to fund a youth department (but they could afford more bonuses and extra assistants for the city council members), my hypothyroidism is making me tired all the time... Yeah, life sucks nuts right now.
So I'm writing to get it all out with fanfic. I requested prompts from my buddies on Twitter and s23am requested an E/O one that starts with a fight and ends with them going at it like rabbits.
Well, that is waaaay out of my comfort zone, but I'll try anything once, and plus, I figure I owe my E/O shipper buddies because they put up with my G/E-ness all the time. XD So this is dedicated to all my buddies who ship E/O and are always so fun and nice to me. If anyone has any other requests, feel free to send 'em my way. I can't guarantee a super-long fic or anything, but at the very very least I'll do a few drabbles. :)
You should listen to Mars, Bringer of War from Holst's The Planets Suite while listening to this. Not only is it the HOTTEST classical music ever, not only does it go along perfectly with this song, it is also worth listening to just for itself. Along with the other movements in the Suite. XD
Oh, and a warning, this fic has BDSM content in it. That isn't everyone's cup of tea so I figured I'd give you a heads-up.
Now then, here goes nothing!
Sweat rolls down his body, and he grits his teeth from exertion. He's been brutalizing his punching bag from hours on end. He pictures the sickest pieces of scum he's seen over the years, lunging at him for various reasons or no reason at all, from each and every angle. A front-right hook to where a man's face would be, and he can almost feel the bastard who put Lizzie's picture on a pedophile website crumbling.
He imagines the crack of a nose breaking, imagines the suspect whimpering for him to stop like the victims would have done. And he doesn't give the man mercy, just like the suspect never gave his victims any.
Now he switches again, trying to find the best balance of speed and strength instead of technique. Matthew Brodus comes to mind this time. The sick fuck's skin finally breaks, blood comes rushing out, and he can pretend he got some kind of justice for Debbie Cooper- just for a moment.
Panting harshly, too worn out to be able to move a muscle, he sits on the bench. His fists are a mess and if it wasn't for the fact that this punching bag was made with professional boxers in mind, it would probably be a mess too.
He pulls his water bottle open and takes a swig. His sweat streams down his face onto his lips, adding a salty flavor to the water.
He's changed in the last few months, and he honestly doesn't give a shit. His hair is longer and he has a tiny beard, more stubble than actual hair. He explodes verbally and physically at the drop of a hat and doesn't care who gets caught in the explosion, as long as it wasn't his kids.
Or Kathy. But he'd been a little too late for that- he'd gone way to far and screamed at her, told her that she knew nothing, and couldn't she see that he was just coping with shooting that little girl in his own way? No, he didn't need a shrink, who the hell did she think she was?
The blows had gotten lower and lower until, simultaneously, they both realized that something had broken. Both of them had crossed the point of no return, and there was no way they'd be able to forgive each other.
The guilt was 50-50 on each of them, really. They'd let the wounds fester for too long, until the slightest thing brought it all rolling back.
They filed for divorce again, and it was much easier since they both wanted it this time. They would share custody of little Eli, and Elliot would barely have to worry about child support. Their relationship didn't have love anymore, nor did it have true hate. Just hurt.
And so his marriage became the second part of his identity that he'd lost in the span of one month. He wasn't a cop anymore and he was single again. That left his kids, and he's been terrified ever since he and Kathy split that with how much control he was losing over himself he would fuck things up with them too.
And that brought him back to the punching bag. This is really the only way he can control his anger anymore. It's like shooting a rabid dog full of tranquilizer darts. A temporary solution, but no cure.
He doesn't think there's a cure to be had, honestly. His new job as a self-defense coach is... not unsatisfying, but it doesn't fill the void left by his resignation. Nothing he does makes him happy much anymore. Even his kids, normally his moon and sun- and he does care about them, so much, and that will never change- can't seem to entirely raise him out of the fog.
Hence his new rugged look, his abandonment of most everyone he knows, the almost complete cessation of any communication with others. He's existing, not living. The anger and depression contain him, not the other way around.
He sits there for another minute, and then he finally shrugs. He's not attacking people. Does anything else matter? IAB has wanted to get rid of him for years because of it, and now he's finally gone. Everyone else has what they want except him.
Everyone except him and- although he doesn't know it- Olivia Benson.
Goddamnit, Rollins and Amaro piss her off sometimes.
They're decent cops, but they just- why doesn't anyone else notice but her?- they are not compatible with her in the slightest. She's get along better with Tucker as her partner. Hell, she'd rather be partnered with a man-eating shark.
Especially if that man-eating shark was hungry. She snorts humorlessly at the thought.
She misses the way things were before. She took her flawless chemistry with Elliot, Munch, and Fin for granted and now she's lost the former and barely gets to experience the latter two anymore. And her friendships with the others are taking the same route. She and Captain Cragen bicker like they never have before, she and Melinda barely talk about anything except work, and whatever bond she may have once had with Casey and Alex is dissolving. She doesn't even get to talk to Huang anymore because he had decided that in the midst of all this upheaval was the perfect time to transfer to Quantico, Virginia so he could split his time between profiling and training new agents at the FBI Academy.
She had no doubt that he would be a fantastic teacher, and he had truly earned the chance to be happy, but...
But so had she, and yet she still has nothing.
And she's pissed. Not that anyone cares.
Not that Elliot cares.
Stabler. She grinds her teeth. Fucking Stabler. She isn't going to deny that having to shoot a kid is traumatic, but he never even tried to move on from it. He never talked to a shrink, never tried to sort out his issues. He just up and left.
They're a package deal, and she can't believe he forgot that. After all they've been through together, he just decides to leave when things get tough.
Maybe her anger is irrational. Maybe it isn't. She doesn't care.
Who does he think he is, anyway, just leaving without saying a word to her? A phone call would have sufficed, and she's being generous.
If he won't talk to her on his own, maybe she should force his hand.
By now, her jaw is hurting from grinding it so hard. And just like that, her mind is made up. She walks into Cragen's office, still seething.
"Captain, can I have the rest of the day off to.." she trails off for a moment. "To attend to some personal problems?"
She never asks, so the answer is almost immediate. "Okay. Just be back tomorrow, Detective. Make sure you get caught up on the case later."
She's out of there. It's about time she gave Elliot a piece of her mind.
Newton's Third Law: For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.
Having managed to extract Elliot's new address from Kathy, Olivia arrives at Elliot's trashy new apartment and knocks on his door.
Elliot turns the lights off.
Olivia knocks again, harder.
Elliot clicks a lock into place and yells, "Go away!"
Olivia growls, yelling, "I didn't come all this way for you to blow me off again! Open the fucking door, Stabler, NOW!"
At a snails pace, as if getting some immature revenge for having been worn down so easily, Elliot undoes the lock.
Olivia spares him the trouble of opening the door and does it herself. She throws it open as hard as she can. "This has gone far enough, Stabler. You leave without a word, like I'm nobody. You don't tell me you're even thinking of leaving until you do. You don't tell me that you screamed at your wife and you got divorced. Enough." Her nostrils flare. "You are going to tell me everything, fucking everything, and you are going to do it now. Am I understood?" Silence. "I SAID, AM I UNDERSTOOD?" She can't help the hysterical tone in her voice, really. It almost embarrasses her- almost- but it gets results so it's completely worth it.
Olivia's anger is like a caged beast. Fine and well to look at from afar, terrifying but intriguing to watch unleashed on someone else, but just plain terrifying if unleashed on you. Elliot swallows, Adam's apple bobbing a little, and nods, ushering her in. This was exactly why he hadn't talked to her about it- she can wear him down far too easily.
Silence reigns for a long moment after Elliot closes the door. They glare at each other, arms folded around chests, eyes filled with anger and betrayal. Both have known this would happen eventually, but neither is prepared for it.
Olivia is still seething, but the beast is back in it's cage for now. The lock isn't fastened, it can still get out if it really wants to, but it's under control.
Elliot looks... like someone killed him and put his skin on. His posture is different, the look in his eyes is different. He looked energetic, once upon a time, but now he looks like an old soul, tired of life and waiting for the ride to end.
Olivia unfolds her arms. She inhales deeply and lets it out slowly.
"You left me," she says simply. Her voice wavers.
"You lead the girl right to the perps! What the fuck did you think she was going to do, ask for a written apology?" Elliot snarls. "You didn't even check her for a gun! She was mentally unstable- who knew what she was going to pull?"
Olivia shakes her head. She can't accept this possibility, she just can't. "No, El, no one would've thought, no one would've-"
"Yes. They would have. Face it, Benson, you fucked up. You fucked up and my career paid the price!" Elliot says.
"You could've stayed. IAB would have cleared you," Olivia protests.
And now Elliot shakes his head. "No. They were out to take my shield and make an example of me ever since I admitted that I wanted to kill pedophiles. I could've acted like a model cop every minute of every day and gotten a close on every case assigned to me and they still would've found something," he says. A pained expression makes lines form on his face. "But if it hadn't been for this case... I could've kept going for a long time. I might've even been able to get a longer leash with the rat squad."
Olivia closes her eyes. All she had wanted to was to help Jenna get a little closure, seeing her mother's killers behind bars. Instead she got her killed too and ruined everything her partner had worked so hard for.
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
Elliot looks away. He's thinking, and that alone means there's a good chance he isn't ready to forgive.
But finally he nods and says, "I am too, Liv. I shouldn't have treated what we had so casually."
The past tense catches Olivia's attention. Does Elliot feel like their friendship is over?
"Had?" she repeats dumbly.
"I threw it all away," Elliot whispers, more to himself than her. "My job, Kathy, and you." His shoulders shake. "Next it'll be my kids, and then what?"
And Olivia's heart clenches. Understanding comes to her so fast it's almost dizzying. This is a man who has always had to balance everything while walking on eggshells. He tried so hard to work it all out, but his best wasn't enough.
"Oh, Elliot... You- you don't have to end what we have, not if you don't want to," she murmurs gently. She's taken aback when Elliot actually starts to cry. She can count the number of times she's seen that on one hand.
"I loved my job and I lost that," he chokes. "I loved Kathy and I lost her because I wouldn't listen to her, or you, or Huang, or any of the other dozen people who tried to tell me to go home for once. And you-"
But he stops.
"And me?" Olivia prompts. Her mind jumps to conclusions that she's been secretly hoping of, but she tries to hold it back. No use getting her hopes up.
"Nothing," Elliot says, voice clipped.
"Damn it, Elliot, can't you just tell me the truth?" Olivia demands.
"Leave me alone," Elliot growls, and Olivia glares at him. One step forward, two steps back. Just when she thinks she understands him...
"No, Elliot, I am not going to leave you alone," she snaps, stepping forward. Elliot steps back. "You know why? Because leaving you alone always ends with me getting hurt! What about me, huh? Why do I have to keep asking that? It's always about you- your comfort, your happiness- and what about me?"
"Don't say that!" Elliot roars, taking a menacing step forward. "I always- ALWAYS- think of you. I fucked up on the Gitano case and ever since then I've been trying to make it up to you! Why do you think I've covered your ass so often, huh?"
"Why don't you just tell me?" she says, words barely audible.
"Goddamnit, Olivia-" The look on Elliot's face isn't one she's seen before. Words can't describe it.
He closes the distance between them. She backs up, at first- an equal but opposite reaction- but then she gives in. Elliot gets so close that they're pressed together, and she can smell his breath, a little salty like a potato chip.
Elliot grabs her arm. She swallows, looks up at him. Her mind is frozen and she can't really tell what's going to happen.
He leans down ever-so-slightly. He brushes her hair out of her face, a motion that would otherwise be gentle, but this is Elliot Stabler and she isn't entirely sure he knows what that word means.
And then they're kissing. All their aggression is channeled into it. Olivia had never really understood that before, how that was possible, but now she does.
One of Elliot's hands wraps itself in her hair, the other squeezing her waist, and hers go to his neck. Elliot quickly becomes bored of that arrangement, though, and his hands wander, over her stomach, making her shudder lightly. Elliot grins into the kiss and moves his hand to her waistline.
And that's when Olivia decides it's going to be her who dictates this encounter, not him.
She smacks his hand away and pulls back. Elliot looks at her, worried he's done something wrong, and Olivia smirks.
"Stabler, Stabler, Stabler," she sighs, shaking her head dramatically. "You don't get to take the lead all the time, you know. You have to compromise sometime."
"Wh-" Elliot begins, only to stop with a shocked yelp when Olivia tugs the collar of his shirt roughly.
"Did I say you could talk?" Olivia asks. Elliot swallows and shakes his head.
"Tonight, Stabler," she purrs, yanking the front of his shirt, "You're going to be my bitch."
Elliot shivers, but doesn't even try to hide his arousal at the statement. Olivia had always known it would be like this if it happened. She was just too dominant and he was no match for her.
Elliot catches her eying his erection like he's some kind of male stripper, and he blushes, but doesn't try to move away. Olivia chuckles lowly and steps back. "You like me looking so much, why don't you put on a show for me? Strip," she says.
Elliot looks a little dazed at the turn things have taken so quickly. But part of him also looks relieved. Whether it's that this is out in the open, or because he doesn't have to think about the last few months, or even because he likes surrendering control, Olivia doesn't know.
"Move it, bitch. I have a belt here and don't you think I would hesitate to smack your ass," Olivia snaps. She feels arousal warming through her- she could get used to this. Take her frustrations out on him whenever he acted like a prick.
"Y-Yes ma'am!" Elliot gasps, and Olivia is taken aback in the best possible way.
"I still didn't give you permission to talk," she says lowly. "But on the other hand..." She licks her lips. Elliot had disobeyed her, but she couldn't punish him for taking the submissive role so well. "Consider this your warning. Now, I believe I gave you an order."
Elliot nods fervently and looks into her eyes. His pupils are dilated from arousal.
He pulls his dingy t-shirt off in a quick, yet graceful motion, and Olivia looks over at his torso, his tattoos, his muscled chest and abs. Then he works against his belt and tugs that off too, not making that big a show of it.
Well, Olivia thinks, that needs to be fixed.
Grabbing the belt Elliot had just dropped, she lashes it and strikes his clothed hip. She would have aimed for his torso, but she the skin on the stomach was much more sensitive than on the back and she doesn't have access to it from this angle. She didn't want to hurt him seriously.
"I told you to put on a show, choir boy! I could do this myself!" she snaps at him. "If you're too shy to do it yourself, I'll just cuff your wrists and do it for you! What'll it be, huh?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am!" Elliot says, timid but determined. "I'll do better." Accenting his point, he thrusts forward just a bit as he works against his pants. He pulls them down slowly, and when they're off his feet he stands still, letting her drink in the sight of him clad in just a pair of boxers. Then, when she gives a nod of permission, he removes those too, letting her see his large erection.
Olivia can barely contain herself. Her panties quickly become soaked and she needs his cock inside her now.
She strips down, not bothering with any attempt at grace and beauty. Elliot stays perfectly still, awaiting her next instruction, and the fact that he's so submissive for her, just for her, almost makes her come.
Finally free of the garments, she pushes Elliot onto the sofa before he can even prepare himself. She slides on top of him, teasing him a little by rubbing her inner thigh over his cock. He inhales sharply and reaches a hand up, but she pushes it away.
"You aren't worthy of touching me yet, worm- got it?" she snaps, and Elliot shivers as he nods. She pins his arms above his head and ever-so-slowly, lowers herself onto his cock.
Elliot groans loudly, pleadingly, desperate for her to start moving. Olivia watches him squirm before slowly rocking her hips, eyes focused on Elliot's face as his eyes close and his breathing quickens.
They're both too turned on for this to last as long as she wants it to, and although she's disappointed, she has a feeling they'll be doing this again, and when they do, they won't both climax in an embarrassingly short amount of time.
"D- unh- don't come until I say," she pants, and Elliot bites his lip as he nods.
A few seconds later, Olivia feels herself getting close, and she commands, "Look at me." Elliot obeys, giving a low moan, and then she whispers, "Come for me, Elliot."
And he does, going over the edge with her.
Hours later, they still haven't done much thinking about all this. They don't really want to ruin it.
So, Olivia decides, they'll wait until tomorrow. She'll make Elliot tell her everything, and then she'll head off to work, hopefully with a little more of a semblance of her old passion. Elliot will have the day off and he'll go to the gym again.
Maybe they'll work things out then, or maybe it'll take years. She can't tell.
What she does know is that finally, at last, they've taken a step towards being okay again.
A/N: Just a heads-up: if this story ever gets deleted from this site, I have it posted on others. Go to my profile to find the links. Thanks!