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A/N: Established EO. In my head canon, Elliot's apartment has an en suite bathroom off the main bedroom.
Her shower is long and hot, and finally, standing in front of the mirror wrapped in a towel, she feels human again. Olivia shakes her damp, towel-dried hair back and swipes the steam off the mirror, reaching for the first of her skin care products. She hasn’t had time to do this in days, settling for quick showers in favor of more sleep, putting self-care on the back burner during several days of cases piling up.
As she pats her first product in and reaches for another, she feels his eyes on her. She glances over and does a double take; he’s leaning against the door frame in just a pair of sweatpants, and he’s ridiculously fit these days, distractingly masculine and gorgeous.
“Hey,” she greets quietly, turning back to the mirror.
He doesn’t say anything, slowly crosses the room and wraps his arms around her from behind, warm, open palms sliding over her tummy.
“Hi,” he murmurs, mouth resting against her bare shoulder.
She smiles gently and starts to tap in her eye cream, using delicate touches; they haven’t seen much of each other the past few days, and he feels so good all around her. He’s being sweet, rubbing his lips back and forth across her skin, holding her in a hug, and it’s the first time she’s really let her guard down in days. As she dabs serum onto her face, he nuzzles into her neck, and breathes her in; in the mirror, she can see a little crease in his brow, and she reaches back to palm his neck, stroking gently.
“Okay?” she asks softly, watching him in the mirror.
He nods, nuzzles deeper, and then his lips part and he spreads a warm breath up the side of her neck; his mouth closes in a kiss against her skin, sucking, and she instantly breaks out into goosebumps, weak.
Oh.
“M’okay,” he rasps, still lavishing slow attention, “Just—need.”
His hands move, cradling her hips to press her back and in, and he groans so, so quietly, burying his nose into her hair.
Sometimes, he just needs her, like this.
Needs to burrow, and grasp, and touch—she thinks she knows why. She feels it too, the worry, when they’re busy and apart, out in the field without each other; their jobs aren’t without risk. She thinks that’s some of it, but he’s also loved before her, and he lost…and she knows there’s trauma there, that he struggles to even let her out of his sight sometimes.
And then, there’s the before, the time when they weren’t allowed to touch or hold, or worry too much, or look too long. The time when they loved, and couldn’t express it, couldn’t put it anywhere, had to hold it all inside of themselves until they drowned under the weight of it. She knows that’s it too, the trying to keep from drowning part, the making up for lost time part.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers against her skin, rubbing back and forth just underneath her breasts with one hand, cupping her neck with the other, pressing his thumb into her pulse point, “Pretty, pretty girl.”
Also, that.
The attraction. It hasn’t softened.
If anything, it’s growing and building over time; the more they explore, and learn each other, the deeper it gets, the hotter it gets. Right now, the place they’re in, the way they’re able to sense each other—he can take her breath away with a look, with the brush of his fingers.
She turns in his arms, lazy with want, and he moves to cradle her face, stroking his thumbs across her eyebrows.
“Not a girl,” she teases softly, pressing herself into his chest, hands sliding around to knead into the thick muscle covering his shoulder blades.
His eyes are heavy, brow still furrowed, but he grins, murmuring to her. “Just take the compliment, would’ya?”
Before she can answer he sinks his mouth over hers, and kisses her deep enough that she whimpers, a sharp stab of arousal thudding in her core. He just wrecks her, in ways she isn’t sure she’ll ever understand. He steals her breath over and over again, squeezing her towel into his fists, thumping her back into the sink. When his mouth descends to her chest, she’s panting deeply, arching as he licks across her collarbones, breaths warm and deliberate. He pauses at the hollow of her throat, nuzzling again, and rocks his hips once, twice.
She presses her lips against his brow bone, cradling him there, and he makes a soft, desperate kind of sound as he hugs her up against his body. He licks a path down her chest, as his fingers find the edge where her towel is tucked in; he pulls it free and the towel falls, caught between her back and the sink until she steps away a little. She feels warm and sensitive from her shower, and she lets out a shuddery breath when he nuzzles in between her breasts, still holding her tightly. Her skin is soft and fragrant from the body conditioner she’d used, and he’s finding this out now, with his mouth, and the pads of his fingers.
It’s erotic to watch him bury himself in her, and her breath catches as he covers her nipple with his tongue, moving in long, slow strokes, testing. She cradles his head and rubs soft, teasing circles against his ears to make him shiver; in response, he closes his mouth around her and sucks, uses one palm at the top of her ass to drag her impossibly closer.
“Mmm. Naked. Bed,” she murmurs absently, gasping as he drags his teeth over the hard peak he’s created.
It makes her writhe in his grasp and he groans, soft and satisfied. “C’mere.”
He angles her jaw and kisses her again, turning them and keeping her close as he backs her out of the bathroom toward his bed.
“Door locked?” she manages, between long deep strokes of his tongue, smoothing her hands over the dips and ridges of his abdomen.
He nods, drawing on her bottom lip, and then nudging her onto the bed, following her down onto her back. Pulling her hands away from his body, he laces their fingers together and guides her arms up, over her head, pressing down into the bed. It makes her moan, when he covers her like this, deep, and soft; it’s safe, like she’s floating, and she craves it now, aches to feel his strength used like this. His breath shudders and he nuzzles her cheek, swallowing thickly, squeezing her hands as he rolls his hips into the cradle of her thighs.
“Look at me,” she commands gently, quietly authoritative, a direct contradiction to the position they’re in.
He does, picks his head up and blinks to clear the fog of arousal a little, focusing. She sinks into his eyes and relaxes completely, watches his lips part when she gives him everything, every ounce of her trust. Her breaths pick up under his gaze, with the way he almost can’t stop his body from dipping back down to hers, the need to bury himself in her is that strong.
He knows what she wants, and he leans in closer, nuzzles his nose against hers and then pulls back just enough that he can see her eyes. “M’with you.”
She nods, nose brushing against his, and tips her face up to kiss him, rocking her hips and whimpering softly into his mouth. He lets go of her hands and slides his palms down her arms, down to cradle her breasts, and her waist. This time he doesn’t speak, he just groans and then he’s burrowing again, kissing and licking and sucking, murmuring soft things that she can’t make out; she tries to lie still and breath, to let him, but she’s achy, and wet, and she wants him, and she tries to tell him through shaky breaths, scratching her nails over his head.
He’s so much, though, and she’s not sure how much of what she says is actually coherent; but, it doesn’t matter because the next place he nuzzles is right between her thighs, right where she needs him. She sighs, and he moans, palms warm against her inner thighs, starting with soft, broad strokes. Her clit is already swollen, she can feel it, and when he flicks across it more firmly her hips jump, and her fingers press into his shoulders.
“M’sorry,” he breathes, soothing up and down her thighs, turning to press a warm kiss against her skin.
He has nothing to apologize for, but she can’t tell him because he’s already groaning and sinking back into her with the flat of his tongue, slowly shaking his head. Looping his arms around her thighs, he drags her closer and he’s so soft with her—she’s never had a man be so perfectly deliberate, pressure in all of the places she wants it, and none of the places she doesn’t. Usually, they’re rougher than she’d like, as if her delicate folds aren’t sensitive, aren’t full of nerve endings. But he’s just, not. He’s intuitive, but more than that, they’re just…they’re made for this.
They should always be doing this, together.
He catches her clit and experiments with a gentle suck, and god, that’s good. She moans and pulls her thighs back more, gathering him in while the pleasure just curls and builds and swells. He’s fucking two of his thick fingers into her now, and it’s sharp and close, and there.
“Wait,” she gasps, shuddering, “Want you to feel it. Wait.”
He growls softly and gentles his mouth, giving her clit just a few more soft sucks, before he rubs his mouth against her belly and crawls up over her.
“C’mere, baby,” she whispers, knowing how badly he needs it, “C’mon.”
Groaning, he helps her push his sweatpants off, and he’s bare underneath them, hard and ready for her. He slides his arms underneath her back and hugs her close, grunting softly when their hips come together, grinding down against her.
“I—Liv, I need—“ His words are halted like he’s in pain, like he can’t get her close enough.
She holds him against her neck, rocking up against him, and wraps her legs around his hips. “I know, baby. S’okay.”
He reaches down to guide himself, nudging up into her a little, and then he sighs, rocking slowly. He props himself up, cradles her face and kisses her deeply, trying to control his breaths.
“M’here,” he murmurs, dipping the head of his cock inside her, “Does that feel good? Tell me.”
She’s so sensitive to the stretch of him there, the thickest part of him right at her opening, that it’s making her whimper, and she nods, pulling on his waist.
“So good…more,” she sighs, breath catching when he gives her a little more, “Want you. C’mere.”
Finally, he gives in and buries himself in her, rocking twice more and then sinking down to let her hold him with a low, satisfied groan. He presses deep, and the pleasure jumps up inside of her quickly, flooding through her hips. It’s already warm, and damp between them where their skin is pressed together, and she tips her hips up to get him deeper, squeezing around him.
This is what he needs, sometimes. It’s close, and intense, and it takes her breath away, having him deep inside of her like this. The pleasure is sharp and consuming, throbbing, makes her whimper against his temple as he moves. She wraps him up safe and urges him on, holds onto him and gives him the stability he desperately craves.
When they come, he gasps her name over and over, mouth resting against her cheek; after, she coaxes him to roll over onto his side, and tucks herself into his chest, pressing the entire length of her body against his. She strokes his back as their breaths slow, until he cradles her chin and leans down to kiss her, slow, playful, with tongue.
He’s sated, now. She feels it in the way his hold is secure, but open, and it makes her sigh with contentment.
“Was that okay?”
He sounds insecure, and her brow furrows. She pulls back to look at him, cradles his face and meets his eyes.
“More than okay,” she says softly, rubbing the pads of her fingers through his stubble.
His face relaxes, and he nods, pressing his forehead against hers. “Good. Missed you.”
“I know,” she soothes, kissing him gently, “Me too.”
It’s more than that, she knows. But, there are things that go unspoken between them, and they both take comfort in that. It’s enough, just to know.
It’s always been enough, and it always will be.
A/N: Thank you for reading!