Disclaimer: Unfortunately, it is not I who own them. Sad clown Scar!

Author's Note:

I have hit an absolute writer's block with Lies. I have Chapter 5 ready and waiting to be updated, but it's really short. So, before I post it, I wanted to finish Lies completely so I could update them in quicker succession. Don't worry, it's almost there.

Now, with what I'm writing here, I'm going way out of my comfort territory. It's smut, it's a one-shot, and it's not case-file. Holy Shit Batman! LOL! Scar!

I'm in Australia, so I'm yet to watch any of the season 9 episodes. But from what I've been hearing, there's been little, if not, no EO moments. This has been simmering in the back of my mind for a little bit. I hope you enjoy. This is post-Svengali. I don't know the name of the perp attacks Olivia, so let's call him Charlie Pitt. Lol.

Anyway, instead of Olivia sending Elliot away once her attack, he's going to stay. You'll have to wait and see for how long.

Leave a loverly review please.

To Sam, Scar, Denise and the rest of my SVU buddies. Let the EO times roll!

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If she just kept breathing, then it might not seem so bad.

Somehow, by expelling the air, the tightness would go away.

But then she realises she has to breathe in again, and it comes back.

It's been that way, if she's being truthful, since Elliot moved back home. To his wife, to his family, to his home. She's startled out her reverie, as she's moved gently to the left as the ESU team progress past, wheeling Pitt's unconscious form past her.

Out of her apartment. Not her home. She didn't have a home. Not really.

She's had flats, she's had houses, she'd had boyfriends, and she'd had lovers.

But she never had something to call her own. Not really.

Her head pounded from where Pitt had clocked her with the paperweight Munch had brought back for her from his vacation to Florida. "You'll always have something to keep your stuff together," he'd told her.

She winced at the irony.

The crowd of people who had initially been in her apartment had pretty much dispersed. Only O'Halloran and an ESU tech she didn't know remained on her floor, collecting the last of Pitt's belongings.

Tylenol; she needed Tylenol. Now, before the headache got worse.

"Detective?"

Olivia turned to the direction of the voice, hand rubbing the base of her neck, "yes?"

"You sure you don't need to go to the hospital?"

Olivia decided against the offer; as odd as it sounded, she wanted to stay in her own bed tonight. So she shook her head instead, regretting it just before the sting of pain hit her behind the eyes, "I'm fine, really."

The woman looked sceptical, but took her word for it. She finally nodded through narrowed eyes, picking up her satchel to join O'Halloran at the door.

"Good night Olivia," O'Halloran said, "lock the door behind us."

Olivia smiled wryly, nodding her thanks as she closed the door behind them.

She didn't realise how scared she was until she reached to secure the dead-bolt on her door with shaking hands. As she did, she noticed a cut on her right hand, just below the knuckles. Not bleeding profusely, but still weeping slightly. It would sting like a bitch when she had a shower. Her gaze moved from her hand, up her arm to the hole Pitt had made on the shoulder of her shirt with her kitchen knife.

Sighing, Olivia made her way wearily towards the bathroom; intent on medication to numb the headache, and sleep. Lots of sleep. Cragen had offered her the next day off, she had willingly accepted. So she could sleep then too.

She made it to the doorway of the bathroom, reaching for the light-switch when she heard it. Squeezing her eyes closed, she hoped for it to stop. Not now, I'm in no state to talk to you right now.

Silence.

Then she heard it again, harder and little more insistent.

"Go away," she groaned to nobody in particular.

She didn't feel like facing him. She had no strength to let him inside at the moment. No condition to watch him stamp all over her. Again.

The past few weeks had been hell. Long, hard cases had taken their toll on all of them; they had all been in each other's personal space for far too long. None more so than Elliot and herself. The twelve hour stake-out did nothing to alleviate the dark cloud that seemed to have permanently attached itself to his head. He had been in a bad mood for the past month.

In fact, if she was to pin-point exactly when his brooding intensity had finally gone overboard, it would coincide with his and Kathy's most recent appointment with their OB-GYN. He had become, if possible, more menacing; more impatient and more argumentative. Cragen had come very close to separating them. Again.

She no longer bothered asking him what was wrong. She was afraid that if he she asked, they'd eventually get to a point where they no longer had anything to say. It was best to be in a position where there were still things to say, than to have nothing at all.

She closed her eyes at all the emotions swirling in her head, she was getting too dizzy from all the deep thinking.

Maybe she should've gone to the hospital, that way she would have an excuse for not answering the door that she knew Elliot was behind. Her chest tightened again.

"Shit," she swore, stomping through the living room, leaning her forehead against the cool wood of it's surface.

"I know you're there Liv," his voice was low, deep; she felt a familiar stirring between her legs.

That had to stop. It was another recent development. Rather than wanting to smack Elliot senseless she wanted to fuck him senseless. The attraction she had for him went far beyond the physical. During the longest and hardest of recent cases, she wanted to envelope him in her arms and hold onto him until the worst was over. Just share the space with him. Have his arms secure her to him and never, ever let her go.

"Liv, I can see your feet."

She looked down, realising he was right, "shit," she jumped back, but it was obviously too late.

She heard what she thought was a chuckle outside the door, "just let me in Olivia."

Her heart stopped for a second; he was using her full name. This was serious.

Inhaling deeply, she reached out to twist the door-knob. Her hand was shaking again. And this time, it had nothing to do with the attack.

Sliding the dead-bolt; she finally managed to get all her muscles to co-operate as she pulled her door open.

He stood there in the doorway, giving her an appraising look. She must've looked terrible. Her hand and shirt were both cut, her hair was mussed, she had a lump the size of Alaska on her forehead and one the size of Staten Island at the base of her skull.

"I just want to sleep Elliot," she finally broke the silence.

Something flashed in Elliot's eyes; almost like he'd expected her to have lost the capacity to speak.

Maybe it'd be better if she had.

"I had to make sure you were ok."

He said it so softly, she wasn't sure if she was just hearing things.

Her hand fell from where it was still gripping the door-knob, "I'm here Elliot. Look, I'm fine. I just need some aspirin and a long lie-down."

He remained so still she wasn't sure that she'd actually responded. The only indication that she had, was the way the muscles in his jaw tightened and released rhythmically. She suddenly felt exposed; almost like he was devouring her with his eyes.

"El, wh-."

"He could've killed you."

He cut her off abruptly; and she unexpectedly found herself transfixed by the way his lips moved.

"Elliot."

She watched the way his eyes closed. Slowly. Almost like she was hypnotising him with his own name.

"I just want to –."

"Don't."

He was starting to irritate her now. She wanted to pound her fists against his chest until he realised the pain that she was feeling every time they were together.

She wanted to kiss him until he realised how much she needed him. Wanted him.

"You could've died."

He bowed his head, lifting his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He began shaking his head vigorously; almost like she'd said something he disagreed with immensely.

She stood there, taking in his prone form. The collar of his denim jacket which was thrown haphazardly over a blue dress-shirt - he still hadn't changed from his work clothes. Her eyes roamed further down to his favourite pair of black slacks. The ones she'd accidentally spilt coffee on the morning of the Gitano case; the day that things had changed irrevocably.

He raised his head, fixing his piercing blue eyes on hers. She was sure he could see right through them. He always could.

Her eyes dropped to the hand that was reaching towards her, then closing as his finger-tips grazed the mark she knew scarred the left side of her neck. Her pulse quickened against his fingers, and she was sure she could feel his through the feather-light touch.

"I'm sorry."

Her eyes opened, again settling on his. She wasn't sure if he meant the apology for the Gitano incident, or for the past year and a half. She realised that it didn't matter.

"Me too."

His expression didn't change as his finger-tips moved from her neck, past her jaw-line and up to where lump on her head was now throbbing dully. His fingers were better than any aspirin she could possibly take.

She felt her chest tighten again.

She opened her eyes when she felt him pull back, frowning slightly. Again, she regretted it; the lump on her head began to burn again.

"Can I come in?"

Even though his presence indicated that he would inevitably make it inside her apartment, she still wasn't expecting that, and found herself rooted to the spot.

He didn't wait for the response that wasn't coming, pushing past her gently like she had given him permission. She realised she was staring at an empty corridor, mentally shaking her head. Turning sharply, her head spinning fiercely, she closed the door firmly and followed Elliot into her living room.

Silence. Then.

"I left Kathy."

Her jaw dropped without her realising it. He wasn't looking at her; his head was bowed again, staring at the carpet like it held the meaning to life within the interwoven fabric.

"But, Elliot," Olivia's head was spinning at the news. But Elliot what? But it's best if you two stay together? But you should try and work it out for the kids?

But she'd be lying.

Instead, she waited. Elliot lifted his head, leaning back heavily into the sofa, his palms rubbing against his thighs. It was like he was trying to wipe them clean.

Maybe he was. Maybe tonight was the night where they both came clean.

Olivia moved to sit on the other end of the couch, turning her body to face him. She realised she was in her work clothes as well; she hadn't even had a chance to take her shoes off before that prick had ambushed her.

Facing Elliot's profile, she realised how tired he looked. She probably didn't look much better. They both desperately needed a vacation.

Olivia reached out a hand, thought better of it, and rested it along the back of the couch.

"El, what happened?"

She watched as the muscles in his jaw bunched again, his Adam's apple moving up and down as swallowed.

She wanted to place her lips right there.

"The baby's not mine."

"Shit," Olivia swore, her breath catching in her throat. That explained that past month of mood-swings. He had just found out that the kid wasn't his.

"Yeah, shit," he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, before turning his head to face her, "it wasn't working out anyway."

"I'm sorry, El"

Not really.

"Are you really?"

Shit.

She didn't say anything, and she refused to meet his gaze, he already knew too much.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Even to her, it sounded like a weak reply.

The static that lay between the two of them – in the inches of space – was electrifying. She had to do something with her hands, so she began picking at the dried blood that surrounded the cut on her hand.

She heard Elliot sigh, "She's seeing someone else. She's happy"

"Jesus Elliot"

He gave a derisive snort, "I had absolutely no idea"

Olivia shook her head, "I don't think anyone did"

Elliot nodded, staring at the blank TV screen across the room.

"You know what the scary thing is Liv?"

She continued to shake her head, not trusting her voice; it was lodged somewhere between her heart and her throat.

"It doesn't hurt as much as it probably should"

She was sure her heart had stopped completely. They weren't the sort of people to talk to each other like this. They weren't meant to be having this discussion. It was too dangerous. They should be fighting instead. They were much better at that, and despite the hurtful things they would say, it would always be alright, because they could go back and apologise. They were partners, and arguments happened.

But if they continued on this tangent, there would be no going back. One partner didn't tell the other that leaving their pregnant wife didn't hurt because they loved the other. No amount of apologising and trying to forget could erase those memories.

"What about work Elliot?"

"What about work Olivia?"

At least she knew her heart was working again. It was thumping so wildly, she was sure that Elliot could hear it. The sombre look he had on his face when he had been at her door was now replaced with an animated quality that stole her breath.

"Are you going to be ok with coming into work everyday with this between us? In case you haven't noticed, all do is fucking argue"

She flinched at his abrasiveness. He was all masculine and authority right now. And it was hot.

"I'm tired of pretending that there's nothing between us. I'm tired of us deflecting what we have between us for the sake of the job that we're not doing as well as we used to," he closed the gap between them on the couch, officially invading her personal space, "All I've ever done is what was best for my family, best for those around me. I'm tired of not getting something that I want"

Her eyes searched his, the blue an almost midnight shade. She saw the lust, want and need that she knew was reflected in her own.

"What do you want Elliot?"

It was a stupid question, but she desperately wanted to hear his answer.

His finger-tips were back, joined now by his other hand, tracing the lines of her face; her eyes, nose, lips and jaw. She realised she was trembling as she moved her hands to his chest, bracing herself against its firmness. Trusting herself in it's solid quality. She always could.

If she was trembling now, she could only imagine how she'd feel once he got his lips on hers.

"I want you Liv," he brushed her fringe from out of her eyes, his fingers grazing the lump that was now almost pain-free. She definitely needed to call the Medical Association of America; Elliot was a definite cure for any head injuries.

His hands moved to fist in her hair, finally dragging her lips to his own.

She moaned as his tongue plundered her mouth. There were no niceties or tentative questing. It was raw and hot; everything that was unspoken between them was being said now between their lips.

"I want you too El," Olivia managed to sigh around Elliot's tongue.

He smiled, pulling her into his lap so she was straddling his thighs, his hardness pressing through the soft fabric of their dress pants, into the heat between her legs.

She tore her lips from Elliot's, "Oh God, Elliot."

He was kissing her like he owned her, like they'd been doing it for years. She wished for a second that Elliot'd had this revelation a lot sooner.

His lips moved to her neck, his hands skimming down the side of her body to where her shirt was tucked into her pants. He lifted from her backside, exposing the hot skin of her back to his equally hot palms. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses across her neck, eventually making his way to her ear.

"I've loved you for a long time Olivia"

Both their hands paused as she leant back in his arms. She framed his face with her fingers, swiping her thumb against his swollen lips. Her eyes raked across his face, taking in the familiar lines.

The vein that pulsed when he was seconds away from beating a perp to a pulp, the eyebrows that furrowed when he was deep in concentration and the lips that he chewed when he wanted to say something that would get him in trouble. And now the most addictive thing she had ever come across. Better than that herbal shit she got hooked on in Oregon. Elliot was a drug she was more than happy to indulge in.

"I love you too," she finally whispered, rubbing her nose low against his, "more than I thought possible"

Elliot smiled. Really smiled. The sort of smile she hadn't seen in years. It was those damn lips again.

She moved her lips down to his ear, "make love to me Elliot"

His hands resumed their previous exercise, his hardness pressed insistently into her core, and she thought she'd melt into a puddle from the combination. The heat he was spreading through her body was extraordinary; if he kept it up, she'd come fully clothed.

Her lips battled against Elliot's, their teeth clashing as they fought for control; control that had been missing for the past eighteen months of their partnership. The irony of the entire situation made her even dizzier than she had been initially. But rather than being from her injuries, she was convinced it was Elliot's scent and touch that was making her head spin.

Elliot's hands moved to the buttons of her shirt, undoing them deftly. She helped him with the rest, shrugging it off and throwing it over the back of the couch. She wanted desperately to get him inside of her, but to get off Elliot's pants required a level of muscle control she no longer possessed. She had also never been as close to orgasm fully clothed as she was now; if she just kept pressing against him like she was, it wouldn't be far off.

She leant her head back, Elliot's mouth moving back to her neck. She grazed the back of his head with her short nails, her hips continuing to push down rhythmically onto his throbbing cock, the tension between her legs building. Her breath was coming out in short pants, punctuated at the end by a high-pitched moan.

"Oh, fuck, Elliot"

She came unexpectedly, her fingers gripping the couch behind Elliot tightly, the heat almost unbearable between them. Her thighs trembled, her face and torso coated with a fine sheen of sweat from her exertions. Her muscles contracted against his hardness, her teeth gritting against the force of it.

"Liv, I gotta get inside you"

His voice was the lowest baritone. Sex personified. During the course of her orgasm he had somehow managed to divest himself of his jacket, shirt and her bra. Not that she was complaining of course.

She was in no condition to answer, but she was incredibly pliant. Elliot was able to grab her thighs just below her ass, lifting her up – and effectively off – his hard-on. She groaned in protest. A groan Elliot silenced by attaching his lips to her own again. She responded by pushing her tongue through his lips, exploring the recesses of his mouth like she was looking for something that was missing.

She was, she realised. She was looking for someone to share herself with. And she'd found it. She'd found what had been missing.

Before she could contemplate any further, Elliot had managed to carry her into her bedroom. Lowering her onto the bed, he crawled after her as she moved backwards towards the headboard.

He caught up and their lips met again in a frantic kiss; she felt like he was trying to swallow her whole. Or was it the other way round? It didn't matter, she thought, reaching for the zipper of Elliot's slacks.

She pushed them down past his hips, his boxers following, finally getting her hand around the source of her orgasm. Her thighs tightened at the size of him; she knew he'd be big.

Scratch that. She knew he'd be huge.

Elliot's lips detached from hers, "fuck Liv," he swore, as her hands ran up and down the length of him.

His lips thrust gently into her hand, his mouth settling on her right breast, laving attention on her pebbled nipple. Using her feet, Olivia managed to shimmy Elliot's pants down and off his legs, kicking them off her bed. Her panties followed quickly, and she revelled in the feeling of Elliot's hot body against her own.

There would be plenty of time to explore later. Right now, this was nothing but basic. Primitive.

Her hand guided his cock to her entrance, her other hand resting on his cheek as her eyes again took in the piercing blue of his own. They did what they did best.

They said nothing.

Elliot ran his hand down her side, dark eyes never leaving hers, as he drew a long leg over his shoulder, the other pushed aside so she lay open and ready for him.

She nodded imperceptibly, arching her back as Elliot slid inside of her, stretching her fully over his hard length. A long drawn-out moan escaped from somewhere deep in her chest as he reached places inside of her that she didn't know existed.

Elliot ran his hand up and down the thigh that had attached itself around his waist, as Olivia's fingers dug into his ass, controlling the speed of his thrusts.

She was burning up. There was no other word for it. She was dizzy and her body was trembling.

She'd never felt more alive.

Her nails dragged from Elliot's ass to rake up and down his muscular back; unable to find traction on the sweat-soaked surface. Her moans were growing more persistent, echoing in the small room, and she was sure she was going to split in half as Elliot's thrusts increased in speed.

His lips moved back to her ear whispering words of encouragement, pushing her to the point of oblivion.

"Oh, Elliot," his name was an unending chant on the end of her tongue, the tingling in the tips of her toes, and the base of her spine.

"That's it Liv," he whispered, moving a hand down between their bodies, "come for me, baby."

His finger swiped at her clit, and she blew apart.

"Fuck, Elliot," her head arched back, exposing her neck to his hot mouth.

Her muscles gripped at his cock viciously, threatening to push him out of her body completely from the force. He groaned loudly, fisting his hand in her hair again, feasting on her lips as her orgasm milked his own. Her heart beat erratically against his chest, and she was sure his was matching her rhythm.

They were partners. She expected nothing less.

Her breaths continued to come out in short pants as Elliot pulled out of her and fell off to the side; pulling her still quivering body into his warm embrace.

They remained silent, the room filled with the sounds of the calming of their breathing. Olivia traced a pattern across Elliot's chest, indulging completely in the feeling of finally being somewhere she felt safe. She inclined her head so she came face to face with his neck, the Adam's apple she had wanted to rest her lips against at the beginning.

She smirked at the fact that they'd been so frenzied that she hadn't even had the chance to do it.

So do it now.

So she did.

Because she had time.

Because she finally had somewhere and someone to call home.

Because ironically, pressed so tightly to Elliot's body, she now had the space to breathe.