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“You know he just wants to fuck you, right?” he growls, low and sharp.
Silence crashes over the table, immediate and heavy. Olivia blinks, startled at first, then quickly recovers, her voice steady, amused.
“Well, yeah.”
His gaze darkens dangerously, fingers gripping his glass so hard his knuckles pale. “And that’s what you want?”
She pauses.
Tilts her head.
And smiles.
Slow. Infuriating. Deliberate.
“Not everyone is a good, missionary-style Catholic boy, Stabler.”Or: Olivia flirts with somebody that ain't Elliot. She has no idea what she’s started.
Also: Hello Jelliot, my old friend.
Bookmarked by jules_reader
26 Dec 2025
