Chapter Five

He leaned in, letting the heady aroma wash over him. His penis twitched, straining harder, as though it somehow recognized that the scent of her juices were calling to it. He could see the moisture that had collected, coating her, covering her pink skin, glistening. Once again, pride swelled his ego to an unimaginable level. Any trace of her time with her date was gone, discarded with her panties in the laundry. This, this obvious physical sign of her desire for him, was new, fresh.

He wanted to sit there, stare at her, eye level with the most intimate part of his partner. He wanted to enjoy it, to memorize the sight, the smell. He wanted to relish the idea that she'd given herself over to him so completely that she was lying, legs spread, open and vulnerable to his eyes. He just wanted to look at her.

He'd intended to take his time teasing her, but his willpower was meaningless. The fluid was liable to seep into the sheet if he waited and he couldn't have that. She'd made it for him, because of him. He wasn't going to waste a drop; he wanted all of it.

Hell, he wanted to taste every tiny bit of it she ever produced in the future too.

His mouth moved forward, following commands the head that wasn't on his shoulders was issuing. His lips made contact with the wet hair first and his brain involuntarily flashed to images, memories of the times he'd done such a thing for his wife.

He wasn't a prude, not in the least. But he'd never liked it. He did it as an exchange, knowing her mouth on his dick felt incredible, expecting that he should return the favor once in a while. But he'd never enjoyed it. He'd never really wanted to do it.

He'd never imagined the idea of his tongue lapping up the hot, stickiness would turn him on. Fuck, he would have been happy if the whole concept didn't actually make him slightly sick.

But things changed.

And how.

His mouth closed around her lips, his tongue eagerly seeking every bit of her he could find. He moved down, sucking lightly, trying to be organized about it, working from the outside in. He lapped at her, sucked at her, cleaned her with his tongue, all the while listening to her incoherent, breathless encouraging moans. She was keening, for Christ's sake; her voice unrecognizable under the whimpers and sobs of pleasure.

Good god, he hadn't even touched her inside yet.

Judging from her excitement and remembering her unexpected third orgasm, he decided to move things along. The last thing he wanted to do was rip a pathetically weak fourth from her before he'd really worked her. He chided himself for not having thought of it earlier, because as much as he'd enjoyed tasting her nipple, he would have preferred, given a choice, to suck two orgasms out of her with his lips wrapped around her clit.

He grinned against her flesh.

Maybe next time.

His hands withdrew from her backside, trusting his shoulders to support her weight. He kept his touch light, forcing himself to be slow and methodical and gentle even as he began to see himself moving up, thrusting himself into her roughly, riding her hard until she came with him, letting her body suck out all the fluid that had gathered inside him at the sight of her. He knew she'd be able to coax every last drop out of him until his erection moved back into the realm of pleasure and he could physically enjoy filling her.

He knew that his own body was worse than hers had been. He was turned on past the point of pleasure. If he took her, fucked her, then it would be purely animal, purely instinct, resulting only in ceasing the pain of his swollen penis.

It fucking hurt.

And while he could imagine nothing that would remedy the situation better than burying himself so deep within her that they might never get all their pieces back to the right owners, he knew doing so would hurt her. Although hurting her, slamming into her until she was bruised, wasn't something he wanted to do, his body was damn near out of control.

Fuck Darwin.

He was in control. And he was going to take her higher than anyone ever had.

And then he would retreat to her bathroom, since he knew he'd never make it to his own in his condition, and jerk off as many times as it took until he was sure he could stop seeing himself flipping her onto her stomach and pounding into her until she screamed.

Forcing his thoughts of himself back, he reveled in the sight of his hands sliding along her legs. Long, toned, tan, strong legs that had been fantasy-inducing for years.

Ever since the very first time he'd seen her. Because he'd been looking down, reading the case file of what would turn out to be the first one they closed together. He'd barely been listening to Cragen, because at that point in his career he'd still sort of believed in following the rules and hadn't pissed Cragen off so much that he couldn't ignore the older man every now and again. His mind had been on the details of the case, slowly absorbing snippets of the one-sided conversation. Oddly enough, he had heard the door to Cragen's office open and close and the click of heels that Alphonse simply wouldn't have been able to squeeze his chubby feet into. He'd heard something about retirement, Florida, and a new partner. But the words hadn't meant anything.

And then he'd heard quite clearly the name Olivia Benson and his eyes had closed.

For a moment he'd contemplated throwing a tantrum, demanding to know why he deserved to have a woman assigned to him, insisting that Cragen partner him with someone who wasn't going to rip apart at the seams the first time she heard a victim's recount of her attack. He waited for a moment, pretending to still be reading, for a soft, feminine voice to nervously clear her throat, and then, when she didn't merit a reaction from her chauvinistic partner, he expected her to ask Cragen, in a weak, defeated voice, if there was a problem.

But there'd only been silence; the first of many, many battles of will between them. The silence had stretched on so long he folded, closing the case file, letting his eyes slowly wander across the floor between them, until he found her feet. Then his eyes began the first, long, slow trip up her impossibly long legs, eventually finding her torso, noting her arms folded over her chest, showing no hint of interest in shaking his hand, and then her face, her beautiful, exquisite face, with her full lips drawn into a line and her dark eyes burning with anger and disappointment and the inherent need to prove herself better than her conceited ass of a partner.

Any desire of intimidating her evaporated as a part of his anatomy, which had previously laid dormant at the office in light of the subject matter, suddenly announced that it would henceforth be an active participant in his work. Taking in both her beauty and her displeasure with him, Elliot's jaw dropped open. He'd clearly heard Cragen snickering as Olivia nodded toward the door.

"If you're done reading, how about we go find this fucker?"

Like so many times in the future, Elliot had only nodded in agreement, unable to find his voice.

And then she'd brushed past him, paying no mind to personal space as her perfume assailed him for the first time and she glared at him unhappily. "Close your mouth, Stabler." She blew out of the office, grabbing the keys to the sedan off his desk and tapping her foot impatiently.

He'd managed to pull his eyes off his new partner, long enough to stare at Cragen, who was chewing on a Twizzler and chuckling. "Good god. Is she for real?"

Cragen had smiled, his eyes twinkling as though he could see the future. "I'd say it's an early birthday gift, but I think she might break your balls."

Elliot finally managed to smile as he shook his head ruefully at his boss and made his way to the door. "Yeah, but what a way to go." And then he'd followed his partner like a puppy dog, something he'd never really managed to stop in nine years, something he'd long ago given up even wanting to stop.

It was Olivia's voice, strangled in lust, bordering on tears, that brought him back to the present. "Please, El, please."

Her voice was so pained, so defeated and unlike her, that his heart clenched in his chest, miraculously overriding any physical urges. He wanted to gather her up in his arms, hold her close, promise her that he would never deny her. He'd known that she'd be willing to beg him, he'd seen her need for him already. He hadn't wanted to make her beg and he hated that he had, even by accident.

But he couldn't fold his arms around her without denying her what she was begging for. So he used his hands, pressing harder on her thighs, morphing a feathery touch of teasing into a warming, comforting caress. He was surprised to find his own voice choked with tears as he answered her, realizing how closely their feelings mirrored one another, revealing how deeply their partnership, their connection, ran.

"It's ok, baby, it's ok. I won't let you down." As he spoke, his breath fell against her center and he watched at the skin prickled with gooseflesh. "You don't have to beg, honey." He leaned in, nuzzling her with his mouth and nose. "You don't even have to ask."

His fingers danced back up her legs, moving to her center, separating her, spreading her, opening her up completely to his view. He thought she might be quivering, but he couldn't swear it wasn't him as he leaned in. His mouth went for her clit, his lips rubbing and sliding over the slick flesh. It wasn't enough, not nearly so. His tongue darted out, flicking across her, causing her legs to tighten, squeezing him. As his tongue worked, sliding and tasting and teasing, he looked up. The sight of her nearly overwhelmed him – her trim body, her glowing skin, her perfect breasts, her bottom lip drawn up between her teeth, her eyes closed tightly. And all of it, all of her, beginning to writhe for him again. Her moans were softer, more pleasant. It encouraged him, knowing that she was enjoying his touches again rather than being tortured by the teasing.

His lips worked over her, nipping and sucking and pulling on her swollen body while his tongue soothed her. Moving his face lower, his tongue found her opening and wormed its way into her. Her muscles clenched around him, trying to draw him in deeper, and he complied as well as he could. While his tongue was moving, thrusting in, pulling out, circling, and then thrusting in again, his fingers played with her bud, varying the pressure to see how exactly she liked to be touched.

He needed to know because he expected the knowledge would come in handy in the future.

His tongue felt her body tightening first, before his fingers felt her pushing against him, before his eyes opened to see her back tensing enough to lift off the bed. It hadn't seemed nearly long enough. What had always been an unwelcome chore, had become something so enjoyable for him that he was sad to realize it would have to end at all, let alone so soon. He wanted to stay there, touching her, tasting her, pleasing her, forever.

But he imagined she preferred to move things along and focus solely on the pleasing part. And really, the idea of pleasing her made him smile as his tongue grazed her skin. His mouth closed around her center again, sucking harder than he had. He watched proudly as she bucked so hard her head and shoulders left the bed completely for a moment. His tongue massaged around her as his right hand, somewhat rested, returned to service.

He started with two fingers, smearing them with the fluids that seemed to be pouring out of her and then sliding them into her. He moved slowly, knowing his position gave him a much better angle and therefore much deeper access than he'd had before. His mouth continued tasting her as his fingers moved in as deep as they could.

The moan she offered him then was one he knew he'd hear in his dreams, in his fantasies for the rest of his life. He could only imagine what he'd get if he were to penetrate her further with his dick, couldn't help but know she'd fit around him perfectly.

Another finger joined the first two and he pulled back to watch for a moment, needing to see the way her body tensed and then stretched around him. And then his mouth clamped back onto her clit, sucking and tonguing her in time with his fingers thrusting into her. Her whole body started to shake, her head thrashing back and forth on the pillow, her hands twisting in the sheet.

"Oh, god." Her voice, her whimpering, quivering, breathless voice sounded nothing like her. "Oh, fuck." She almost sounded on the edge of sobbing.

He didn't want her to beg again, so he redoubled his efforts, trying to render her beyond speech. The only thing he wanted her to be able to say was his name, and that was even negotiable. His fingers kept up a fast rhythm, demanding that her body allow them to move in and out according to their own beat, rather than the tired, random thrusts of her hips. He pushed into her hard, fast, knowing the intimate punishment was more than soothed by the gentle attentions of his tongue and lips.

Her legs tightened again, her ankles locking around his back, her thighs trapping his face against her. He breathed deeply, swearing that he would never forget the scent of her. He'd never forget the sight either, even though his eyes kept closing from his own enjoyment. Her moans shifted deeper, turning into a low growl, as her body continued to tighten.

He kept pushing and pulling, licking and sucking. His teeth closed around her clit gently, hearing her growl stop long enough to yelp, but it wasn't an unhappy yelp – she was just surprised. He kissed her, holding his mouth open as wide as he could while his tongue spread her fluid all over her and then slowly consumed it. She was writhing continually, beads of sweat breaking out all over her.

He dared to stretch her again with a fourth finger, feeling her skin pull under his mouth as he forced her body to accept him. Three, four, five sharp, hard thrusts, and she was screaming, his name ripping from her throat so loudly he wouldn't be at all surprised if someone called the police. Her body convulsed around him, her legs shaking and tensing, her center gripping and pulling on his fingers as waves of pleasure poured through her. He kept his fingers moving, his movements softer, but still strong. His tongue continued lapping at her, rubbing in circles over her clit, watching as her body would tighten and then relax as the waves gave her peak after peak while they rolled out.

And then she was still, except for the occasional shiver across her goosebumped skin.

Smiling happily, he stood up. He returned to the side of the bed to lift her up, to make sure her legs and feet rested on the mattress instead of dangling over the end. He leaned down, reaching across her to pull the blankets over her spent body.

Her eyes opened, blinking sleepily at him.

He smiled, dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Shhh, go back to sleep."

He watched her mouth and jaw work to form words, sounds, and he took great pride in the idea that he'd achieved his goal. His partner was one happy, content, satiated, mute little camper.

He kissed her gently on the mouth. "Whatever it is, tell me tomorrow."

He knew he had to get out of there, get away from her before his body took over.

As he positioned her hand on top of the blanket, she weakly gripped his. "You?" Although she'd managed a word, the sentence was clearly out of her reach.

He grinned as he shook his head. "I'll take a raincheck, baby."

She was far too exhausted for a fifth orgasm, but he knew her body was ready and wet and her mind was willing – he could fuck her hard and fast and be on his way home in less than ten minutes. She wouldn't be upset with him, hell, she wouldn't blame him at all, but it would undo what he'd done. If he was ever going to fuck her, he decided, he wanted her conscious enough to participate.

Besides, by that point, one brush of her petal soft skin anywhere in the vicinity of his erection was liable to make him burst like some pre-pubescent boy who'd found his dad's Playboy. He wasn't about to let that happen, not when he'd spent so much time and effort to leave Liv with a positive impression regarding his sexual prowess.

She accepted his answer, either that or she was so tired that she fell asleep, because her eyes closed and her head fell to the side. He kissed her on the cheek and then headed to the bathroom to take care of his own problem.

The only concern he had about the night, one that would plague him, was that she might not remember their agreement for him to wait. He'd fear it forever, that he'd never get to feel her touch, that he'd never actually know what it was like to be inside her. Until she set his mind to rest.

And he really couldn't wait for that.

The End... for now.