The door slammed shut and neither of them cared how loud it must have been. Olivia wasn't sure if she was backed against a door, a wall, a counter, or what. What she was sure of was that she was between two incredibly hard surfaces. She let her hands explore the broad expanse of his chest. His tight thighs rubbed against hers, and she could feel him grow harder as he drew closer. Her arms coiled over his shoulders as she raised her body up to meet his.

Warmth spread across her stomach and she knew it would be a matter of seconds before the heat traveled downward. The anticipation bubbled in her throat, lacing heavily upon her words.

"Elliot. El, I need you," she told him. "Now."

She was practically begging and she didn't care. Since they had got together, their physical chemistry had provided endless hours of pleasure. Both of them spent their working hours paying attention to detail and it was engrained in them. Neither was complaining.

His hands were in her hair, tugging her head back. His mouth was on her neck and he was trying his best not to assault it. Her hips rocked against him and he knew it wouldn't be much longer.

She felt his hands leave her hair and she sighed. His lips trailed down past her collar bone and hovered over the cleavage left visible in her dress. All of a sudden, his hands were on her thighs. The material of her dress was hiked up, but the chilled air in her apartment was no match to the heat that radiated from his touch. Then his fingers slid up and reached for the lace of her panties. Her skin was hyper-aware of the slight scratch of the lace as it traveled down her legs and pooled around her ankles.

"Shit," she muttered.

"You ready?" he asked, his hands missing again.

"Mm."

And then she realized where his hands were. One wrapped around her waist, lifting her, and he used the other to guide himself into her. She dug her nails into his back as he trust up into her, starting off slow. The hand he had used for guidance was now on the wall or the cabinet or the counter, she still wasn't quite sure where they were in the apartment. What the hell did it matter? Elliot was inside of her and that was all she needed. One leg wrapped around him and she closed her eyes, her movements matching his.

"Liv, hold on," he told her, the hand that had been against the wall guiding hers up.

Well, they were against a cabinet after all. She grabbed on to the edge of the cabinet with the hand he had guided and searched the surface with her other hand for something to hold.

His rough hands cupped her ass and pulled her toward him with each thrust. He shifted to the right, knowing it would push her to the edge.

"Fuck!" she shouted.

"That's the idea," he reminded her.

She gripped the hard wood above her as her head landed on his shoulder. She fought to remain coherent as she contracted around him.

"El," she purred in his ear. "Right there."

"I know," he told her. "I know."

She moaned as she came, his name on the cusp of her lips.

Her muscles clenched around him and he felt the hot stream between them. That, coupled with the sounds and sight of her, was more than enough. A growl rose within his throat. He released himself inside of her and he felt her leg pull him closer.

She let her hands fall to his shoulders. Her hips bucked once more with a content sigh.

He was smiling at her when she opened her eyes. It was a good bet that she was beaming back at him.

"I think staying in was a good idea," she said.

"Might have been difficult to do that at a party."

She smirked.

"I'm sure we could have found a way."

Guiding her other leg around his back, he lifted her up while still inside of her. She could feel him stiffen and heard as her breathing got louder.

"What … what are you doing?" she asked.

"Putting you to bed for the last time this year," he answered.