hoe is life

“You didn’t have to go all out,” you say as he pulls your chair out like it’s a date.

Sonny laughs, a low rumble. “What, for my favourite neighbour? C’mon, I couldn’t let you eat frozen Trader Joe’s ravioli again. I got a reputation to uphold.”

You sit. “Do you, now?”

“Damn right,” he grins, turning to pour. “Neighbourhood’s most eligible bachelor. Can’t let the crown slip.”

You let him pour the wine; red, dry, expensive. The kind he’s been “saving,” probably since last Christmas. He sits across from you, arms folded, leaning forward like he’s studying you. Not in a creepy way. Not overtly. Just a little bit too aware. His eyes flick to your earrings, linger on the neckline of your dress.

“You look nice.”

You sip the wine. “So do you.”

There’s a brief silence that stretches long enough to get uncomfortable before he fills it. “That’s not the dress you wore to work today, is it?”

Your brow lifts. “No. I changed before coming over.”

“Thought so,” he nods, too quickly. “I would’ve remembered.”

You let out a soft laugh to break the tension. “Are you always this observant?”

“Only when it matters.”

Your stomach twists a little. You busy yourself cutting into the lasagna. It’s delicious, annoyingly so. He watches you with careful satisfaction, like feeding you is something more than hospitality.

“I like you in red,” he says suddenly. “But pink suits you better.”

Your fork pauses mid-air. He doesn’t elaborate.

You chew, slower now. “I don’t think I’ve worn pink in a while.”

He shrugs. “Maybe I’m just remembering wrong.”

The conversation turns again, mindless conversations about the weather, Halloween decorations, a funny thing that happened at the grocery store. But his eyes never leave you. They trace your fingers when you wrap them around the wine glass. They follow the curve of your neck as you adjust your necklace. He refills your drink before you even realise it’s empty. The second glass goes down smoother than the first. Warmer. He sits closer now, leg brushing yours under the table.

“You okay?” he asks, voice a little lower. “You’re flushed.”

“Just warm,” you reply, suddenly very aware of how intimate the kitchen feels. “Probably the wine.”

“You want water?”

“I’m fine.”

He smiles. “Good.”

There’s a pause. You shift in your chair. “Hey, where’s the bathroom again?”

“Upstairs,” he replies smoothly, already standing gesturing to the staircase. “Third door on the left. Can’t miss it.”

You nod, push up from your seat, and start toward the stairs; steps creaking beneath your heels as you climb, the jazz humming louder up here, slower. You reach the landing. A hallway yawns before you, lined with framed photos and thick shadows. You spot the door on the left, just slightly ajar. You knock once, polite habit. No answer, obviously. You push it open. And that’s the moment you realise you fucked up. Everything begins to go wrong; this isn’t the bathroom. Not even close. The door creaks open just an inch too far before you can stop it.

The smell hits first; faint incense mixed with wax and something iron-rich, like pennies soaked in sweat. The light is red. Not warm and soft like a lamp; red, industrial, pulsing dimly from a bulb hanging bare above the bed. You go to pull the door shut again, nervous excuses already forming on your tongue, but you freeze.

There’s a bra on the nightstand. Your bra. Pink. Lacy. One you thought you’d left at a hotel two months ago, back when you took that weekend trip. You remember searching the sheets, blaming yourself. But now it’s here. Folded neatly. Placed like an offering. Your heart skips.

Next to it, there’s a balled-up t-shirt. Yours again. An old concert tee you haven’t seen in months. A pair of panties, too. Not washed; stained, stiff. There’s lipstick uncapped and rolled down to the base. Your favourite shade. The one you wore that night you got too drunk to remember your Uber ride home.

You step into the room like you’re sleepwalking. It’s colder here. Like the warmth of the house doesn’t reach this far. Like you’re having a fever dream.

Then you see the wall. It’s not painted. Not decorated. It’s collaged. Hundreds of photographs pinned edge to edge like feathers in a predator’s wing. All of you: You brushing your teeth. You tying your hair back. You through your bedroom window, your towel slipping low. You crying. You smiling. You masturbating in the comfort of your own room.

There are screenshots from your Instagram, sure. But then… others. Unfiltered, off-guard. Taken from angles no one should’ve had. You in your own home. In your own bed. There’s a camera on a tripod in the corner; its lens aimed squarely out the window that looks directly into your bedroom.

You turn, slow, like your limbs aren’t fully responding, the room spins in and out of focus. Sheer horror and dread overcoming your nervous system; oh god… I’m gonna be sick, you thought and then you see the altar.

A dresser cleared of drawers, black cloth draped across the top, candles burned low to stubs. In the centre sits a framed polaroid of you asleep, one hand curled against your cheek, your mouth open just slightly. Burn marks singe the corners. Your name is scrawled in blood below it. Underneath the frame, there’s a knife. Its handle wrapped in pink ribbon. Next to it, a notebook, worn to the spine. You flip it open. Your name appears on the first page. Then again. And again. Dozens, no hundreds, of times. Sometimes scrawled with passion. Sometimes written neatly like homework.

Other pages are filled with love letters never sent. Dark love poems. Violent prayers. Rage-inked monologues soaked into the page.

I don’t want to hurt you. I want to make you sacred. I want to own the look in your eyes when you realise no one else ever cared this much. If I can’t have you, I will rip the world apart until you’re alone with me.

Your hands shake as you back away. Your eyes land on the mirror propped against the far wall.

Your gaunt reflection stares back… but there’s something wrong.

Behind your mirrored self is a shape. Lurking. Still. Watching you from the shadows.

You turn around, fast. There’s nothing.

You whip your head back and he’s there in the mirror; Sonny, standing in the corner. Hands in his pockets. Smiling softly. Like you’ve just walked into a surprise party and he’s been waiting all night for the right moment.

“This ain’t the third door on the left,” he says gently, as if you’ve wandered into somewhere meant for you all along.

Your breath catches. “What… what is this, Sonny?”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch.

His voice is calm, even. “It’s what love looks like when you’re not afraid to show it.”

You stagger back a step, but your heel catches the uneven floorboard and your shoulder brushes the dresser. The flame of one candle flutters.

“You shouldn’t have seen it like this,” he murmurs. “I didn’t want you to see it like this. But maybe… maybe it’s better this way. Now we don’t have to pretend anymore.”

He steps forward, into the red glow – slow, reverent, menacing. As the candlelight spills over his chest, you realise he’s shirtless… and your name is carved into his skin.

You should scream. Run. Throw something heavy and bolt down the stairs. But you don’t. You can’t. You just freeze. Because he isn’t coming at you like a monster. There’s no madness in his eyes. No manic twitch. He looks… relieved.

Like you’ve just walked into church after a lifetime of doubt, and he’s the altar boy waiting with a smile.

“You weren’t supposed to see it tonight; I wanted you to see it when I knew you would understand. When I knew you were ready. When you would finally look at me the way I look at you.” Sonny says, voice low and warm, like a lullaby laced with sedative. “But you opened the door anyway. And maybe, just maybe, you knew deep down how much I love you, how much I need you. And you are ready for it, aren’t you baby?”

He walks past the mirror slowly, and your reflection warps behind him like the glass wants to pull you in. He stops a foot away. Close enough that you can smell him; cedar, shaving cream, and the faint tang of old blood.

“Because you do look at me the same way I look at you, don’t you?”

Your throat tightens. “Sonny, I… what the fuck? This is insane.”

“Insane?” he echoes, tilting his head, brow twitching in amused disbelief. “You think it’s insane to love someone so much it hurts? To want to protect them? To keep them safe from every dumb fuck who tries to get between you and I?”

He gestures wide, to the shrine. The walls. The altar.

“This? This is the opposite of insane, sweetheart. This is devotion.”

You stumble backward and he follows; not aggressive, just shadowing your movements like a tide.

He’s bare chest is more visible now. Hair mussed. A faint scrape of stubble lining his jaw. Just below his ribs pale scars forming the first letters of your name. Fresh ones underneath, red and raised. Angry. New.

“I thought about getting a tattoo, but… I didn’t want to use ink,” he murmurs. “Didn’t feel permanent enough.”

He presses a finger to one of the deeper cuts and flinches; not from pain, but from pleasure. His voice drops, breath thick. “You deserve more than that. You should be inside me. Under my skin. In every fucking heartbeat.”

He’s close now. So close your back’s nearly against the altar.

“You think this is crazy?” he asks again, voice tightening. “You think I’m some sick fuck jerking off to your underwear and licking your toothbrush in the dark?”

Your mouth opens, then closes again.

“Because I am, God baby… I am.” he whispers. “But you like that, don’t you?”

Your breath catches. His hand lifts, slow and gentle, and cups your cheek. Warm palm, callused thumb brushing your cheekbone. You should pull away, but you don’t. Your body betrays you, lungs tight, pulse racing.

“You think I didn’t notice the way you bend over in front of your windows?”

“The way you touch yourself after our little chats in the driveway?”

“You think I didn’t hear you whisper my name last week when you came? With the lights off? With your legs spread and your fingers deep and sloppy inside yourself like you wanted someone to catch you?”

He leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“I was watching. I’m always watching.” He smiles, wickedly, gesturing proudly to the photos covering the walls. Your legs tremble. His fingertips, gliding down your bare arm, slow as candlewax. Tracing your wrist, then sliding along your hip, tugging the hem of your dress higher, higher, hushing you softly.

“Shhh, shhh… let me talk,” he coos. 

“I’ve worshipped you from every angle,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, eyes locked on yours. “Begged God to make me good enough to touch you. Tried to be patient.”

He hooks a finger under the waistband of your panties, not pushing… just feeling.

“But now you’ve seen it. All of it. And you’re still here.” His eyes flash. “So don’t lie to me. Tell me the truth.” He dips his fingers lower, until they press softly against the damp warmth between your thighs. “Tell me you’re not soaked.”

You can’t, that’d be a lie. Your body betrays you. His hand hovered over your bare skin like it was afraid to break the spell. You weren’t sure if you were shaking from the cold or from him. You flinched slightly as his fingers pulled your panties aside with a rough flick; two deft fingers running through your slick folds, touching you with a level of reverence and patience like you’re something he’d spent his whole life praying for. Like one wrong move might wake him from the dream. You gasped; half shame, half want, and he groaned, forehead falling to your shoulder “Jesus, sweetheart…”. 

“You’re not running,” he murmured, voice a breath against your cheek. “You’re trembling… and soaked.”

You couldn’t answer. Not with the heat pulsing between your thighs. Not with the way your heart stuttered against your ribs. But you were. Trembling so hard your knees felt like glass, soaked to the point you could feel yourself drip down his fingers. But you couldn’t move. His touch was molten. You leaned into it without meaning to, breath catching as he dragged one hand down your spine in a slow, deliberate sweep. His thumb brushed each vertebrae, one by one, until he reached the curve of your ass.

“I knew it,” he whispered, almost to himself. “God, I knew it. You’re just as fucked as me, aren’t you?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your thoughts were buzzing, dizzy. You didn’t know how to feel. Your body wanted him, achingly, but your nerves sparked with fear. It was intense. All of him. The way he looked at you. Touched you. Like a man on the verge of ruin.

You hesitated, but he didn’t take it as rejection. Instead, he gently pulled you against him, hand resting at the nape of your neck. “Hey,” he murmured, tipping your chin to face him. “Look at me.”

His expression was different now. Less frenzied. More focused. Like he saw you. “You scared?” he asked softly. You nodded, just a little. Barely. Sonny smiled; just a little, too. “That’s ok,” he said. “I’d never hurt you… I love you.” Then he kissed you.

You whimpered into his mouth and he drank it down like communion, tongue sliding hot and hungry past your lips. When he pulled back, he was breathing hard. So were you.

“On your knees, baby,” he said, voice thick. “Time to worship the one who worships you.”

The words hit somewhere low in your gut. You sank down slowly, nerves tight, thighs quivering as velvet touched your knees. You glanced around the dim space, at the flickering candlelight and the old wood of the altar.

“Sonny, this…” you whispered, voice breaking. “… this is wrong.” Sonny smiled darkly, unbuckling his belt. “Nah baby… ain’t wrong, it’s what you deserve.”

You gasped softly when he pulled himself out; already hard, already leaking. He fisted the base and stroked once, twice, groaning at the sight of you looking up at him.

“This mouth,” he muttered, stepping closer. “This perfect fucking mouth. You know where it belongs, sweetheart?”

You swallowed. Shook your head. He gripped your hair with one hand, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “Right here,” he whispered. “On your knees. Wrapped around me. Gagging.”

You leaned forward, hesitant at first, and licked him. Just the head. A slow, trembling flick of your tongue that made him grunt and snap his hips.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Don’t tease.”

So you took him in. He groaned like he’d been starving. His fingers twisted into your hair, guiding your mouth down on his cock until you choked, gagging around him as tears sprung to your eyes.

“That’s it,” he gasped. “That’s my girl. You feel that? That stretch in your throat? That’s how I know you’re mine.”

You moaned around him; ashamed by how wet you were just from sucking his cock. He started to move then, hips shallow and needy, muttering filth under his breath:

“I’ve fucked your photo more times than I can count… on the couch, in the shower, on my fucking desk, but nothing… nothing beats this.”

He thrust deeper. Your throat clenched. You could barely breathe, could barely think, but your hands gripped his thighs, holding on as he used your mouth like he was making up for lost time.

“Your lips,” he groaned. “Your spit. The way you fucking gag for me. God, sweetheart.”

He came with a groan like a confession, hips flush to your lips as you swallowed it all. Your eyes watered. He didn’t pull out right away. Just panted, still twitching against your tongue, then slowly, gently, eased back. He knelt down, wiping your mouth with his thumb, kissing the corner of your tear-wet eye. “That’s my good girl. You alright?” You nodded, flushed and wrecked.

“Good.” His gaze darkened again. “Because we’re not done.”

He lifted you onto the altar like you weighed nothing, candles flickering beside you, the flame casting gold over your skin. You felt like a sacrifice. Spread out. Thighs open. Chest rising and falling in shallow, needy gasps.

“Look at you,” he whispered, eyes devouring you. “Laid out like something holy.”

Then he entered you in one long, unforgiving thrust.

You cried out; half shock, half pleasure. Your hands scrabbled at the altar edge. He didn’t let you adjust; just slammed into you again, and again, and again, your name on his lips like a prayer.

“Say it,” he rasped. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped.

He wrapped a hand around your throat; tight, firm, claiming, and fucked you harder.

“No one else sees you like this,” he growled. “No one gets to ruin you but me.”

The shame of how much you loved that made you cry out again, walls clenching around him.

His hips rock forward, grinding deep, each thrust snipping at the last threads of his control one by one. Sonny’s hand fists in your hair, tugging your head back just enough to bare your throat, his lips dragging along your skin. “That’s it baby, just like that. Takin’ it so good f’me.” 

The alter jerks under the rhythm of his hips, candles threatening to topple over. He holds your thigh higher, pinning it against his waist to open you wider, to fuck deeper. 

“Let go for me, baby. Cum for me,” he groans, teeth sinking deep into your shoulder, breath hissing through them.

You came hard; blinding, white-hot, shaking on the altar as his name spilled from your lips in broken sobs. He chased his own release seconds later, fucking you through it with one final growl and a heavy, brutal thrust. His cock jerks inside you as he spills thick, hot ropes deep into your ruined cunt. He holds you open, one big hand spreading your thighs open wider, grinding through it with a vicious groan. His release floods you, spilling past the seal of his cock, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t ease up, he can’t. He fucks it deeper with rough, punishing thrusts, hips crashing into you, sweat drips down his chest, his eyes rolling shut with a shaky exhale.

You collapsed against the altar, chest heaving. Sonny leans over you, pressing a reverent kiss to your forehead, your throat, your lips.

“Now that’s worship,” he whispered.

The candles have almost burned themselves out. Wax pools at their bases, thin trails of smoke curling up like ghosts. You sit on the edge of the altar, knees drawn close, heartbeat still chasing itself.

Sonny kneels on the floor before you, shirtless, skin glistening in the dim red light. The lines of your name across his chest have begun to darken, the scabs a crude halo. He plucks the knife from the alter holding it not as a threat, but as something sacred.

“You believe me now,” he murmurs. His voice has gone quiet, frayed at the edges. “You feel it. You have to.” You don’t answer. The words are still trapped somewhere behind your ribs.

He presses the flat of the blade against his side. When he draws it away, a thin line of crimson follows, a new cut just beneath the old ones. He doesn’t flinch. He only exhales, a sound almost like relief.

“This is what forever looks like,” he says. “Not rings. Not vows. Marks that never fade.”

He reaches for your hand. You hesitate, but only for a moment, and then let him take it. His palm is slick, warm. He guides your fingertips to the cut, smears the blood over them, then drags them gently across your collarbone. A crimson print blooms there, a mirror to his.

“There,” he whispers. “Now you’re in me, and I’m on you.”

The house creaks. Outside, wind rattles the glass. Somewhere in the distance, a siren moans; thin and far away, like the world is warning you, but it’s too late to matter. Sonny leans his forehead against your sternum. The weight of him is heavy, human. His breath fans across your skin.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he says. “No one will ever hurt you again. No one will ever touch you again. You don’t have to think, or decide, or run. Just… stay.”

You look down at him. At the shrine behind him. At the photographs and candles and the endless versions of yourself pinned to the wall. It’s impossible to tell whether the tremor in your chest is fear or something else entirely. He lifts his head, eyes bright with devotion and madness all at once. “Say you’ll stay.”

The silence stretches until it feels alive. Your lips part. The word that escapes is small, fragile, more breath than sound. He smiles, finally, like a believer seeing proof. Then he rises, gathers you up in his arms, and carries you deeper into the red light of his shrine, the door closing softly behind you.

As soon as you had heard, you had asked Olivia if it was finally time to look into that research she had been watching when you weren’t around. She had gently reminded you that it was one time and that as soon as you were alone for the night, with no risk for interruptions, you’d watch the porn together.

You had been pestering her about it for so long that you had forgotten how nervous you actually were to watch it. You knew what porn was. You weren’t that much of a prude, but it had always felt like a solo pastime. Now you had no idea what to do with your facial reactions, let alone your body, as you sat on the couch next to Olivia.

She is dressed in a simple tank top and shorts that seem to hug her curves in all the right places. You would think that after so many months together, you would have gotten used to seeing her like this, but you still haven’t. Your heart races as you watch her grab for the remote and flick the TV on.

You think that you know what is coming but when loud moans fill the room, you still jump. Olivia’s hand instinctively reaches for yours, her thumb swiping across the back to calm your nerves.

“Your dad really needs to turn down the TV after he is done watching sports,” she murmurs, and you can’t help but let out a giggle.

Your eyes flick to the screen, where two women not much older than you and Olivia are already undressed and lying across each other.

“Oh. My. God. They really just get right into it,” you say, which causes Olivia to laugh.

Her hand tightens around your thigh, and you can’t stop the shiver that follows. She leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. “They call it porn without a plot for a reason.”

“I knew that,” you grumble, “I just didn’t expect it to be so abrupt.”

Olivia moves your hair behind your ear to expose the column of your neck. She trails kisses down from your jaw and then nips lightly, causing you to jump.

“Just watch,” she whispers as she pulls down gently on your earlobe with her teeth.

A small whimper escapes your lips as she continues to leave open-mouthed kisses down your neck. One hand curls into her thigh while the other grasps for the couch pillow that you are pressed up against. Your breath stutters and your eyes close for a moment when she reaches a particularly sensitive spot.

You don’t know how she notices, but the moment your eyes close, she stops. Her mouth moves inches away from your ear, so she is barely louder than the moans that still come from the TV.

“I believe that I told you to keep watching.”

“Liv,” you grunt as your eyes flick back to the TV.

One of the women has her fingers pumping in and out of the other one, and all you can think about is how desperately you want Liv’s fingers inside of you. However, her hands seem content to stay exactly where they are. You reach out for one of them and try to drag it over to the waistband of your shorts, but she pulls it away gently.

“Touch yourself,” she commands simply.

You turn your head to look at her for a moment, but she uses two fingers to tilt your head back towards the TV.

“You wanted to know how I did my research; I am showing you.”

You know that fighting against her is useless. When Liv gets on a power trip, there is no stopping her, not that you really want to in this situation. There is something that makes your heart race when you think about watching the TV at the same time that Olivia is watching you unravel for her. So with one final deep breath, you slide your own hand in your pants.

You keep one hand on Olivia to ground yourself, but as the woman on TV arches her back, you start to circle your clit. You gasp as you realise just how wet you have become in this short time. You feel yourself clench around nothing as Olivia leans back into your ear.

“All I could think about watching this was how I wanted to make you arch off the bed like that. To have my fingers curling inside of you as you clutched the sheets.”

You moan, eyes trained on the TV as your fingers dip down and your knees fall further apart so that you can slip two fingers inside of you. Your back arches off the cushions slightly as you feel yourself clench around your fingers. Olivia takes advantage of the new position to suck at your pulse point.

You set a rhythm that follows the one on the TV of your fingers gently pumping in and out of you until you feel the knot starting to form in your stomach. You can feel Olivia’s eyes on you, but don’t look over, worried that the action alone would make you combust. Instead, you try your best to follow the movement on the TV as more moans tumble from your lips.

“God, you are so fucking beautiful,” Liv whispers, nuzzling into your neck. “I love watching you come undone for me.”

“Shouldn’t you…you,” you pant, trying to catch your breath, “be watching the TV too?”

Olivia lets her fingers gently curl through your hair so she can bring another part of your neck closer to her lips. She sucks gently before responding. “Why would I watch that when my favorite show is right in front of me?”

Your skin burns at her words, and you feel yourself tumbling closer to the edge. “Shit… Liv. I’m I’m…”

“I know, baby,” she whispers, pulling down gently on your earlobe again. “Let go for me.”

Your moans mix with the ones coming from the TV as your orgasm washes over you. With your pants and underwear constricting your movements, continuing to thrust isn’t easy but you push through, ignoring the ache in your wrist to extend the pleasure.

You whimper when your fingers curl just right and your thumb rubs over your clit. The leg closest to Olivia twitches suddenly, like it wants to close around your wrist. She’s quick to lay her hand on your thigh and, in turn, spread you a little wider. Your head presses into the couch cushion as a quiet moan tumbles out of you.

“That better, babe?” Olivia questions sweetly, her voice taking on a certain tone that makes you feel a warmth in your belly.

“Yeah,” you whine. “Just like that.”

You pray that maybe, maybe, she’ll see the message between the lines and keep talking to you as you watch the women on screen. The woman being fingered is well on her way to orgasm two, and the woman fingering her is teasing her bare breasts with peppered kisses and longer, open mouthed ones.

Suddenly your hand feels a little too confined and, against your body’s wishes, you stop what you’re doing to fix your predicament. You remove your hand from your pants, your fingers shiny with cum, and stretch your wrist for a moment before you’re quickly tugging your pants off your hips.

“Was getting a little too crowded,” you chuckle, suddenly a little self conscious now that the post orgasm haze is starting to dissipate.

“Never hesitate to make yourself comfortable, Y/N/N,” Olivia reassures you as you settle back on the couch again.

The hand holding your leg open starts to roam a little, running slowly up and down your inner thigh as your hand drifts back down. Instead of resuming what you had been doing, you decide to give your clit some attention. You’re rewarded with a burst of pleasure and your hips arch toward your touch, your head turning to the side.

“You’ll miss the good part baby,” Olivia says as she tilts your head toward the TV once again. Your eyes are closed, so it doesn’t matter, but you want to see what she’s talking about.

“Keep talking,” you blurt, your cheeks growing hot the second the words leave your lips.

Olivia smiles. “Do you like it when I talk to you?”

“Yes,” you gasp as you rub your clit faster.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” she praises, her index finger grazing your outer lip on one of her passes down your thigh. Your hips subtly turn toward the touch but she retracts it. “Look how good you’re making yourself feel.”

“Not as good as you do,” you admit.

The timing of the woman on the TV’s moan is perfect because it sounds like she’s agreeing, and the two of you chuckle.

Your lips part as the woman on top finally takes the bottom woman’s nipple in her mouth. You feel your nipples tighten into stiff peaks as you imagine Olivia doing the same to you. You want to look over and ask her to do exactly that, but you simply feel too shy to ask and you aren’t sure your mouth can form the words.

But Olivia’s always been good at reading people, and she’s gotten better at reading you over the past few months.

“What do you want, baby? Tell me what you need.”

Her free hand picks that moment to run along your clothed belly, slowly making the trek upwards. Testing to see if you can get what you want without a word spoken, you arch your chest toward her touch and lick your lips.

Olivia gets the message, but that’s not what she asked.

“Tell me,” she repeats, her voice dropping a little lower.

“Suck, please,” you manage to whimper, your brain suddenly fuzzy on details.

The hand running up your torso back tracks to the hem of your shirt long enough to pull it up and expose the breast closest to her. She places a single kiss near your nipple before taking the hard bud in her mouth, soothing it with her tongue before she sucks hard.

“Oh yes, Liv—“ you moan loudly, your eyes snapping shut as your second orgasm crashes into you.

This one feels more intense than the last, and it’s not long before your hips are squirming. Olivia pins them down with one well placed hand as she swaps her attention to your other breast. You barely register it as your orgasm seems to pull you under and make you unaware of the world around you for one long, endless minute.

Your chest is heaving by the time your hand pulls away. Your eyes flutter open and you discover the woman on screen is as out of it as you are. You chuckle deliriously as you look at Olivia, who is looking up at you while peppering your chest with kisses.

“You still missed the best part,” she murmurs against your skin.

“Mm mm,” you shake your head briefly as you inhale through your nose. “The best part was you in my ear, you touching me.”

You smile as Olivia immediately blushes at your words, her cheeks taking on a shade of pink that compliments her skin tone beautifully. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as she grabs your hand, the one you’ve been masturbating with, and proceeds to suck and lick the your cum covered fingers clean. You hum briefly at the fresh arousal that shoots to your core.

“You are trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Olivia laughs, her hand reaching for the remote. “I wanted a taste.”

Your hand grabs her wrist before she can fully reach the remote. “What do you think you are doing? It’s your turn now.”

Olivia grins, taking in the way that your chest still shakes a little. “Are you sure you are up for it?”

You nod your head yes and then point towards the TV. She turns to look at what is happening, and you can’t help but notice the way that her eyes widen. The women on the screen have changed positions so that one is lying down and the other is riding her face. Your cheeks burn at the thought of Olivia’s thighs wrapping around your head.

Being between Olivia’s legs is not something new for you. You love eating her out more than anything else, but to have her on top in complete control of what is happening sends your head spinning. Oliva finally tears her eyes away from the TV and turns back towards you.

“Lie down.”

Her response is simple, yet it carries enough authority that your mouth suddenly goes dry and you lie back on the couch so your head is near the arm of it. You watch as she pulls her shorts down with ease and toss them with your pants. Her tank top follows shortly after. She makes a little show of crawling over your body and your breath catches at the beauty of her, at how aroused she is in this moment. She leaves a couple of kisses on your bare chest and one at the base of your neck before her thighs are suddenly on either side of your head.

Olivia thinks that she knows what is coming when she finally positions herself over you. However, the moment she sinks down, it’s an entirely new sensation. Your hands wrap around her thighs keeping her pressed to you. She falls forward, one hand curling into the arm of the couch while the other grips the back.

“Oh, oh,” she whimpers as she begins to rock her hips against you.

You pause for a moment, trying to gauge if she is in pain which makes her groan. Her hand curls into your hair. “No don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

A quiet, breathy moan leaves her lips when you continue to lick in tune with her rocking. For a minute, that’s how things go; Olivia rocks while you lick, soft whimpers and quiet “Ohs” leaving her lips from how good everything feels from this angle. Even your breathing is like a continuous, teasing vibration that helps the pleasure slowly build.

You love her like this. You love it when she basks in how good you’re making her feel. You love that you get to watch her as she turns to watch the film, her lips parting with another moan either from whatever is happening on screen or because you decided at that moment to start flicking her clit.

“You’re doing so good,” she encourages before glancing down at you. “Just like that.”

You squeeze and stroke the soft, smooth skin of her hips as you watch her watch the film. You can’t turn your head to see what they’re doing, so you have to rely primarily on Olivia’s reactions to know just how good it is because even your ears are preoccupied with Olivia’s thighs pressing against them.

You feel her thighs suddenly tremor against the sides of your head when you begin to leave sucking kisses against her clit. You moan against her at the sensation and are rewarded with a much louder moan from her, her cheeks a dark shade of pink when she looks down at you. You don’t need her to speak to know she liked that. You simply smile against her and keep moaning against her as your noisy sucking kisses morph into a steady suck.

“Oh shit,” she moans loudly, one hand reaching down to grip your head while the other gropes her breast. Her orgasm has already started, the two of you can feel it, and yet she still warns, “I’m gonna cum,” just as it amps up.

She throws her head back as a cry fills the living room. She presses down harder against your face to grind and draw out the pleasure as long as she can. She unknowingly restricts your breathing by doing this and for a moment you feel the panic swell in your chest, but you trust her and you want her to enjoy the moment as long as she can, so you push down the panic and you focus on her.

Eventually her grip on your scalp relaxes and you inhale loudly through your nose the moment pulls her hips away enough that you can breathe again. You take a couple of seconds to steady the beating in your chest before placing a soft kiss to the inside of Olivia’s thigh. Her legs wobble as she tries to find purchase to stand but you don’t let her get far.

Your arms wrap back around her hips pulling you down towards your face once more. She loses balance for a second, laughing before she moans. She is sensitive this time. You can tell in the way she whimpers with every rock of her hips. Your face drips from her most recent orgasm and you feel it slowly rolling down your chin but you don’t care.

All that matters right now is bringing Olivia to another one as quickly as you can. When she becomes distracted with rocking her hips again you loosen one of your hands and trail it up her stomach. As you begin to suck her clit you let your fingers pluck at one of her nipples. She curls forward at the sensation her nails once again find a way to scrape across your scalp.

“Baby,” she whimpers, her eyes fluttering close as she leans her body over the arm of the couch. “I’m not gonna.. Shit shit… I’m not gonna last long.”

You redouble your efforts, determined to prove just how right that statement is. With a couple more sucks and a sharp bite down on her clit she comes again. This time it comes out in a rush that coats your face. You don’t stop until Liv’s legs are shaking around your head and she forcibly pushes herself up.

She stumbles slightly but you are quick to reach up and grab her. You don’t know how you manage it but finally you two are lying down next to each other with only a thin blanket wrapped around you. Olivia is still panting her head nuzzled into your neck. You let your fingers draw random patterns along her back until she finally calms down.

“I see now why you liked the research so much,” you tease.

You don’t have to look over to know that she is rolling her eyes. She places a gentle kiss on your neck. “Doing the real thing with you is better than any research.”

-

Taglist

The night was a blur of lights and cameras, velvet ropes, champagne flutes, and the kind of glittering chaos you’d only ever seen on TV. But the only thing you could focus on was her.

Mariska looked untouchable. Commanding in her gown, every smile, every tilt of her head dripping with the kind of effortless confidence only she carried. The way people flocked to her, hung on her every word, touched her arm like she was some kind of goddess—it made sense. Because she was.

And somehow, she’d brought you here. You, in your own carefully chosen dress, still feeling like you didn’t quite belong on her arm in this world of legends and flashing cameras.

But every time her hand brushed yours, every time she leaned close to whisper something in your ear—an observation, a little joke just for you—you remembered you were hers tonight.

Hours later, the whirlwind finally slowed. Mariska’s arm slipped easily around your waist as you made your way through the hotel lobby, where the limo waited. She smiled at someone who waved, but her grip on you was firm, protective, as though you were the most important part of her night.

The limo door shut behind you, and the chaos of the Emmys was instantly muted, replaced by the low hum of the engine, the dim golden glow of the cabin, the chilled bottle of champagne in its ice bucket.

You smoothed your dress nervously, tugging at the fabric where it hugged your thighs. You could feel Mariska’s eyes on you even before you looked up.

She was watching you with that quiet, devastating smirk, one brow arched ever so slightly. Like she already knew what you were thinking.

“You look beautiful tonight,” she said, her voice lower now, softer, but no less powerful.

Heat bloomed across your cheeks. “You’re just saying that because you won.”

Her smirk widened. “No, I’m saying it because it’s true. You should see yourself through my eyes.”

Your stomach flipped. You turned slightly, trying to hide the way your lips parted, but she caught your chin between two fingers, tilting your face back toward her.

“Don’t hide from me,” she murmured. Her thumb brushed across your lower lip, slow and deliberate. “Not tonight.”

The champagne sat unopened. The city lights streaked past the tinted glass. But in the limo, it was only the two of you—and the electric pull between her steady gaze and your racing pulse.

The champagne still sat unopened between you, its ice melting slowly in the bucket. Neither of you moved to touch it. The only thing that mattered was her hand, still resting against your chin, thumb gliding in a slow, deliberate sweep across your lower lip.

It was maddening how unhurried she was. Like she had all the time in the world to watch you squirm.

Your breath hitched, and Mariska’s smile deepened just enough to let you know she’d heard it. She leaned back slightly, her hand falling to your knee as if it belonged there. The velvet of her gown brushed against your bare arm, warm and impossibly soft, making it harder to think straight.

“Do you know how hard it was,” she said, her voice low, “to keep my hands off you all night?”

Your stomach flipped, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from gasping out loud. “You were the one working the red carpet,” you managed, your voice thinner than you wanted it to be.

She gave a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “And still, all I could think about was you. Sitting there in that dress, looking at me like you wanted to eat me alive.”

Heat bloomed across your skin. You shifted in your seat, but her hand on your knee tightened just enough to still you. Not rough, not demanding—just firm. A reminder.

The air in the limo seemed to hum around you.

Mariska’s fingers trailed higher, just a few inches above your knee, before stopping again. She was teasing, measuring every reaction. You leaned ever so slightly toward her, and that was enough—she closed the gap, her lips brushing your temple first, then lingering at your cheek.

The kisses weren’t rushed. They were gentle, deliberate, each one a little closer to where you ached for them most.

By the time her mouth finally met yours, you were trembling. The kiss was slow, steady, her lips soft but commanding in their patience. She kissed you like she had no interest in ending it, like she could unravel you just by taking her time.

When she pulled back, her forehead resting against yours, you realized you were gripping at her wrist, desperate for more.

“You’re shaking,” she whispered.

You swallowed hard. “Because you’re… taking your time.”

Mariska smiled against your lips, pressing one more lingering kiss there. “Exactly.”

The limo turned a corner, city lights flashing briefly through the tinted glass, but neither of you noticed. The world had collapsed into this—her hand still warm on your thigh, her lips brushing yours with maddening restraint, every second stretched out to the point of breaking.

And she was in no hurry to let you fall apart just yet.

The kiss should have ended. She should have pulled back, smoothed her gown, asked the driver to open the champagne. But she didn’t.

The second your lips parted for her, the careful restraint she’d held onto all night slipped, just enough to make you shiver. Her hand, once content to rest just above your knee, slid higher now—decisive, steady—until her palm was pressing firmly against the curve of your thigh.

The limo hummed beneath you, but it was nothing compared to the hum inside your chest, the dizzying rush of her mouth moving against yours.

She kissed you deeper, her tongue brushing against yours with a patience that was almost cruel. You whimpered into her mouth, and she caught it with a low sound of her own, something between approval and hunger.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were flushed, her breathing unsteady, and she looked at you like she’d been holding back for years.

“God, you taste—” she broke off, shaking her head as though words wouldn’t do, then leaned in again, kissing you harder this time, her hand sliding around to your hip and gripping firmly.

The velvet of her gown shifted against your skin as she leaned closer, pressing you back into the leather seat. The contrast of textures—soft velvet, cool leather, her warm body—had you arching instinctively into her.

“Tell me,” she murmured against your lips, her tone low but steady, “is this what you were thinking about all night? While you watched me on that stage?”

You nodded quickly, breathless. “Yes—Mariska, yes.”

Her smile was devastating, the kind that sent heat rushing through you. “Good.”

She kissed you again, deeper, more insistent, her hand sliding higher beneath the hem of your dress, fingers brushing bare skin now. She moved slow, deliberate, savoring the way you writhed under her touch.

“Because I thought about this too,” she whispered, her lips ghosting your jaw as her hand inched closer to where you burned for her. “Every single time I smiled for those cameras, I was thinking about getting you alone like this.”

The limo jolted slightly as it turned, but you barely registered it. All you could feel was her, velvet and heat and intention, unraveling you one lingering touch at a time.

And for the first time all night, you stopped caring about the world outside those tinted windows.

Her hand was warm against your bare thigh, fingers spreading slightly as if to claim every inch of skin they touched. She kissed you deeper, slower, pulling a sound from your throat you didn’t even realize you’d made.

Mariska pulled back just far enough to watch you, her eyes dark and steady in the low golden light. “Look at you,” she murmured, her thumb brushing slow circles against your hip. “Already trembling, and I’ve barely touched you.”

You swallowed hard, your breath coming uneven. “You’re not being fair.”

She smiled, low and knowing, velvet voice curling around your ear as she leaned closer. “Fair has nothing to do with it.”

Her hand slipped higher, finally sliding beneath the hem of your dress. The brush of her knuckles against your inner thigh had you gasping, your back pressing into the leather seat.

“Relax,” she coaxed, her lips brushing your jaw. “Let me take care of you.”

You did, your thighs falling open almost without thought, as though your body had been waiting for this all night. Her fingers traced lightly up your skin, pausing just shy of where you needed her most. She held there, hovering, teasing you with the sheer weight of anticipation.

You whimpered, clutching at the velvet fabric of her gown, bunching it slightly between your fingers. “Please…”

Her smirk was faint, but her eyes softened. “That’s better.”

Then, finally, she touched you. Just the pad of her finger pressing against the thin fabric between your legs, slow, measured. She didn’t push, didn’t rush—she drew out every reaction, every gasp, every arch of your hips, savoring the way you squirmed beneath her.

The limo’s tinted windows made the city outside look blurred and unreal, as though this moment existed in its own world. Her velvet gown rustled faintly as she shifted, bringing her lips back to yours, kissing you with a patience that contrasted cruelly with the growing insistence of her hand.

When her finger pressed harder, circling you through the fabric, you broke against her mouth, moaning into the kiss.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her breath hot against your lips. “Let me hear you.”

You clung to her, every nerve on fire, her gown brushing against your skin as she worked you with agonizing precision.

And when her hand finally slipped beneath the last barrier, skin against skin, you realized with a dizzy rush that she hadn’t even started yet.

The air in the limo was heavy, thick with perfume, heat, and the low hum of the engine. Mariska’s hand was inside your dress now, her fingers teasing, circling, pressing just enough to drive you out of your mind. You were trembling against her, your dress rucked high on your thighs, the velvet of hers brushing against your skin.

When she pulled back from your mouth, her lips were swollen, her voice steady but threaded with something darker. “Get on my lap.”

Your eyes widened, but you moved without hesitation, climbing over the console of space between you. The red velvet of her gown whispered beneath you as you settled across her thighs, straddling her. She steadied you with her hands, one gripping your hip, the other sliding higher up the back of your dress.

“There you go,” she murmured, her breath brushing your ear. “Just where I want you.”

You whimpered as her lips trailed down your neck, her tongue leaving a hot path to your collarbone. Then she shifted lower, her hands guiding you back until you were stretched out along the leather seat, her gown spilling around her as she moved between your legs.

The cool air hit your thighs when she pushed your dress higher, baring you completely to her. She smirked at the sight, licking her lips slowly as her eyes flicked up to meet yours.

“You’re already so wet for me.”

“Please,” you breathed, half-wrecked already.

Mariska leaned in, her mouth hovering just shy of you, her breath teasing your slick heat. “Say it.”

Your body tensed, your chest rising fast. “Say what?”

Her eyes burned into yours, her velvet voice low and deliberate. “What you’ve been wanting to call me all night.”

Your lips parted, the word stuck on your tongue, until her tongue flicked against you once, making you cry out.

“Mommy—”

The second it left your lips, she groaned against you, her mouth sealing over your clit, tongue circling with devastating pressure. Her hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as she feasted on you like she’d been starving.

You moaned loudly, your fingers tangling in her dark hair, pulling her closer, needing more. She gave it to you without hesitation, her tongue relentless, her pace unhurried but mercilessly thorough, as if she had all the time in the world to ruin you.

“Good girl,” she murmured against you, the vibration sending you arching up off the seat. One hand left your thigh, and before you could catch your breath, she slid two fingers inside you, slow and deep, filling you perfectly.

You gasped, your hips jerking, and she chuckled low, curling her fingers just right as her mouth never left you. “That’s it. Take what Mommy gives you.”

Your vision blurred, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Every thrust of her fingers, every swirl of her tongue had you spiraling higher, your cries echoing in the limo, muffled only when she pulled you down against her face harder, hungrier.

You begged, you writhed, you clutched at her gown like it was the only thing tethering you to the earth. And when you finally broke, shattering hard around her fingers and tongue, she didn’t stop. She worked you through it, coaxing every last tremor out of you until you were limp, shaking in her hold.

When she finally pulled back, her lips glistened, her eyes dark with satisfaction as she leaned over you, brushing her velvet-clad chest against yours. She kissed you slow, letting you taste yourself on her mouth.

“Mine,” she whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “All mine.”

Your body was still twitching with the aftershocks, your dress bunched around your waist, the taste of her still on your tongue. You thought she might stop-hold you close, let you catch your breath. But Mariska had other plans.

Her fingers slid out of you, only to circle your clit again, gentle at first but steady. You whined, hips jerking away instinctively

"Too much," you gasped, but she only pressed a slow kiss to your thigh, her velvet voice calm and certain.

"You can take it. You're mine, remember?"

Before you could argue, her mouth was back on you, tongue stroking in tight circles while her fingers thrust back inside, curling just so. The sudden rush of sensation tore a cry from your throat, your back arching off the leather seat.

"Mariska-please, I can't-"

"Mommy," she corrected smoothly, her lips dragging against your swollen clit.

"Mommy!" The word ripped out of you, desperate and unrestrained.

She hummed in approval, the vibration shooting straight through you as she fucked you with her fingers, deliberate and merciless.

Her free hand pressed firmly against your stomach, holding you down, keeping you spread for her as you writhed.

Your thighs clam around her shoulders, but she idn't let up-if anything, the resistance spurred her on. Her tongue pressed harder against your clit, her fingers driving up into your pussy with an unrelenting rhythm that made your whole body jolt against the limo seat.

Every nerve felt raw, every touch too much, and yet not nearly enough. Your nails dug into the velvet of her dress where it bunched at her shoulder, desperate for something to hold onto as the pleasure built in dizzying waves.

"Please-Mommy, I can't, I c-can't," you babbled, the words breaking apart with every thrust of her fingers.

Mariska hummed low against you, the vibration making your hips buck. She pulled back just enough to growl against your slick skin, "Yes, you can. You're gring to give me another one. Right now."

Her fingers pumped into your pussy harder, curling just so, relentless in their rhythm. The heel of her hand ground against your clit with every thrust, sending shocks of sensation tearing through your body.

You choked on a sob, your hands flying to her hair, pulling desperately as if that could slow her down. But Mariska only groaned, eating the sound of your cries, her tongue lapping at your swollen clit with devastating precision.

Your thighs trembled violently around her shoulders, your whole body shuddering as the pressure built higher and higher. The pleasure was unbearable, sharp and all-consuming, forcing another release from you even as you pleaded against it.

"Mommy, I-I can't, l'm gonna-"

"Do it," she ordered, her voice muffled against you but full of command. "Cum for me again my sweet girl.”The words shattered your restraint. Your body clenched hard around her fingers, your release crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurred, your voice broke into a ragged scream, every muscle locking before you collapsed against the seat, trembling and wet.

But Mariska didn't stop. Her fingers kept driving into your pussy, curling and pressing that spot inside you until your legs spasmed uncontrollably. Her mouth latched onto your swollen clit again, sucking with ruthless focus, as though she'd never let you go.

Your hands scrambled for purchase, nails raking helplessly at the smooth leather seat. "Mommy, no more-c-can't-" you cried, your voice already wrecked.

"Yes, you can," she murmured against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core. Her arm locked tighter around your hips, pinning you down. "You'll take it.

You'll give me everything."

The overstimulation hit like fire.

Every flick of her tongue against your clit made your body jolt, every thrust of her fingers wrung another broken sound from your throat.

Tears spilled hot and fast down your cheeks as your body gave in again, another violent release ripping through you without mercy.

Your thighs clamped tighter around her shoulders, trembling so hard you thought you might snap. She didn't let up. Her tongue dragged over your clit with maddening precision, her fingers pistoning into your pussy, hitting that devastating spot every single time.

You sobbed, voice cracking.

"Please-I can't, I can't- s’too much.”

Her answer came low, rough, vibrating against you. "Yes, you can. You're mine. You'll cum until I say you're done."

Another wave tore through you, sharp and overwhelming. Your back arched off the limo seat, nails clawing at the leather, tears streaking down your face as your release shook you apart.

Mariska didn't slow. Her mouth sealed over your clit again, tongue lashing cruelly against the sensitive bud while her fingers fucked into your soaked pussy without mercy. You cried out, voice cracking, your whole body convulsing. "Mommy, it's too much, I c-can't-"

She growled against you, the vibration making your hips buck.

"Yes, you can. You're gonna cum again. Right now."

Her words shattered what little control you had left. Your body clenched down around her fingers, your pussy gripping her so tight it almost hurt. Her tongue flicked mercilessly over your swollen clit, every movement dragging another cry from your throat. You were shaking, your legs locking around her shoulders as another release ripped through you.

"Good girl," Mariska groaned, her voice rough, her pace unrelenting. "That's it. Give it to me. All of it."

The command ripped through you.

Your climax tore out of you, violent and overwhelming, your body squirting against her hand, soaking her wrist and the limo seat beneath you. Mariska groaned against you, lapping at your clit even as the wetness poured out, her fingers never faltering. "That's it. That's my messy girl. So fucking perfect for me."

Your sobs broke into ragged cries, your body shaking uncontrollably as Mariska held you down. Every thrust of her fingers dragged more from you, the wetness spilling over her hand, dripping down your thighs.

“Can’t stop, can you?” she teased, her voice rough with pride. “Your pussy just gives me everything.”

Your vision blurred, your nails clawing helplessly at her arm as another wave crashed through you, smaller but just as consuming. Your legs kicked weakly, trembling around her shoulders.

Mariska slowed finally, her fingers easing their pace, her tongue giving one last flick over your clit before pulling back. She pressed gentle kisses to your inner thighs, then up to your stomach, grounding you as you collapsed against the seat.

“Beautiful,” she whispered, her hand rubbing soothing circles into your hip as she slowly withdrew her soaked fingers. “So beautiful when you let go for me.”

Your body sagged into the leather seat, trembling and boneless, every breath coming in broken gasps. Mariska gathered you into her lap with surprising gentleness, guiding your head to her chest.

Her fingers—still damp with you—brushed carefully through your hair as she whispered, “Shhh, baby. You’re safe. Mommy’s got you.”

She reached for a small cloth tucked beside the champagne flutes, wiping her hand before dabbing carefully between your thighs. You whimpered at the touch, oversensitive, and she kissed your temple in apology. “I know, I know… you did so good for me.”

Her lips pressed to your damp cheeks, kissing away the tear tracks, then down to your mouth, soft and lingering. No rush, no command—just warmth.

“You’re my perfect girl,” Mariska murmured, stroking your thigh with slow circles. “So sweet, so strong. I’m proud of you.”

You clung to her dress, still shaky. “Did I… was I good?”

The look in her eyes softened instantly, her hand cupping your jaw. “Good? Baby, you were everything. Better than I could’ve dreamed.”

She adjusted your gown carefully, pulling the velvet fabric back into place to cover your thighs, smoothing it down with the same tenderness she had lacked minutes ago. Then she tucked you against her again as the limo rolled quietly through the city.

Outside, the lights of the afterparties blurred by. Inside, all you felt was her heartbeat under your cheek, steady and strong, carrying you back to earth.

—————————————————————

“Couldn’t wait anymore.” She whined, tugging at the hem of your untucked blouse in an attempt to grab the attention of your lips. You figured why not bother teasing her for a bit, couldn’t hurt, right? Grinning, you wrapped a hand into her hair, pulling her to you while the other arm wrapped around her, lips meeting gently. You ran your tongue across her lower lip and she was quick to submit, letting your tongue roll against hers for a few minutes before you pulled away, her lip trapped between your teeth before it snapped back.

“I’m not done working baby, you’re walking a thin line…would hate to have to punish you.” You nodded to the couch, “Take a seat.” Amanda huffed, but obliged, pouting as she took out her phone to occupy herself. You chuckled, returning to your desk, truthfully you didn’t have that much work left to do, but it was just so much fun to tease. 

While you turned back to your paperwork, you found your eyes drifting over to your girlfriend, you were surprised to see her in a dress for once, and man was she ever adorable when she pouted. A paragraph of writing later and Amanda was groaning again, bored of her phone she stood, coming to lean against the side of your desk. The pen paused for a moment while you looked up at her.

“Yes?”

“Baby….” She whined, you sighed, pushing back from your desk a little bit, motioning for her to climb into your lap, which she gleefully did. Wrapping an arm around her, your pen returned to moving in the other. You weren’t surprised when Amanda buried herself into your neck, littering a trail of kisses up it, nipping at your earlobe. She pulled at your free hand, moving it to her bare thigh. Smirking, you spoke,

“The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.” 

“I can work with that.” Her voice was breathy against your ear as she readjusted herself over you leg, making sure the skirt of her dress wasn’t trapped between your bodies. A roll of her hips and she let out a whimper, feeling herself clench around nothing, walls fluttering at the friction against her clit. Your free hand groped at her ass, spanking the cheek swiftly, Amanda let out a moan continuing to ride your thigh, eyes closing as she buried herself against your neck.

“Good girl…” You murmured against her, nipping at her shoulder. The hand on her ass controlling the speed of her thrusts, within minutes she was practically shaking against your body, she clearly had been riled up. 

You finished up your paperwork, able to turn your attention fully to Amanda, pulling her from your neck you planted a searing kiss on her lips. She whimpered into your mouth, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulders as your hands moved to her hips, pushing her core down onto your leg at the same time you tensed the muscle. She broke away from your lips with a loud gasp, moaning your name out into the office. Her body was alight with passion, tingling through her as you nibbled your way down her neck, a particularly harsh bite into her pulse point, “Cum for me baby…” You muttered before sucking a mark against her tender skin. With a few more rolls of her hips she was spasming against you, a string of quiet curses leaving her lips with a quiet sob. Your hands soothingly rubbed at her back, lips gently kissing the top of her head, “Feel better baby?” She nodded against your shoulder, giggling you kissed her shoulder, moving to stand, arms still wrapped around her to keep her steady on her shaky legs. A gentle kiss against her lips, smiling at her.

“Thank you..” Amanda’s voice was still wavering and breathy. 

“C’mon, let’s get you home. Then I can really spoil you.” Winking, you packed up your things, leaving the office hands intertwined.

You walk a few paces ahead, shoes crunching over a stray patch of leaves, trying to ignore the way his eyes follow you like a second shadow.

It’s a late October night in New York, and Central Park is unusually quiet; just a few late joggers, some college kids high on cider and possibly pot, the occasional cab horn in the distance. There’s no chill tonight, not really. The air is thick, still holding the last kiss of October warmth, and the sky’s low with clouds glowing yellow from the city below.

Sonny looks like he’s auditioning for a noir flick; coat open over his broad chest, collar flipped just enough to catch the breeze, tie loosened to the third button. Hands in his pockets. Every bit the detective off-duty, your detective off-duty.

And god, does he love that part.

You feel it when he closes the gap between you, hand drifting to the small of your back, then lower.

“You shoulda seen the way that hostess looked at me,” he murmurs, mouth close enough to brush your ear. “Like she couldn’t believe I had a girl like you on my arm.”

Your breath catches, caught between flattered and flustered.

“Oh she was looking at you,” you whisper.

“Baby,” he grins, “she weren’t lookin’ at me for the reason you think. She wanted to be you. Wanted to know what it feels like to be spoiled by a man who knows what he’s doin’.”

You huff out a breath and glance away, but his hand stays firm on your lower back.

“You’re proud of this,” you say.

“Damn right I am.”

You glance back at him.

His grin doesn’t waver. “You walk into that place in that little dress, sittin’ across from me with your legs crossed and your lipgloss all perfect, like you don’t even know how fucken’ gorgeous you are…and you really think I’m not gonna spend all night makin’ sure every guy in a ten-mile radius knows who you belong to?”

Your breath stutters. The words sit low and hot in your belly.

“It was just dinner,” you say weakly, but you already know that’s not true. Not when he kisses your temple with a smile like sin and pulls you tighter into his side.

“It’s never just anything with you.”

You let him lead you down a winding path toward the lake. The water’s still, dark glass rimmed with city lights, the skyline glowing bright in the distance. And just up ahead, tucked beneath a canopy of trees and half-concealed by shadow, he sees it: a bench. Quiet. Secluded. Facing the skyline.

Sonny slows his steps.

“C’mere,” he says softly. “Wanna sit with you a minute.”

But the way his hand slips a little lower; guiding, coaxing, already curling against your hip, you know damn well he doesn’t want to sit at all.

The bench is damp with dew, slick from the mist rolling in off the lake, but Sonny doesn’t seem to care. He sits down slowly, legs spread, like he owns the whole damn park; and maybe, with the way he’s looking at you, he does.

The skyline glows behind him. Buildings cut sharp lines into the sky, lights blinking like constellations. You should be admiring the view. But all you can focus on is the way he leans back, arm resting along the top of the bench, and drags his gaze over your body like he’s picturing you already straddling his lap.

“Come on,” he says, quieter now, patting his lap. It’s not really a request.

You hesitate, shifting from one foot to the other. “Sonny…”

“Don’t act coy,” he says, tilting his head. “You wore that little dress knowin’ what it’d do to me. All dinner, sweetheart, I was sittin’ there with my hand on your thigh, and you just kept talkin’ like I wasn’t one second away from takin’ you into the damn coatroom.”

Your face flushes hot.

He pats his thigh again. “C’mere.”

Your knees move before your brain does.

You lower yourself onto his lap carefully, awkwardly, your eyes darting down the path. “Someone could see…”

“Good,” he mutters, voice thick. “Let ’em.”

You still, frozen halfway across his thighs, but Sonny’s hands slide up your waist, guiding you the rest of the way until you’re fully straddling him. The hem of your dress rides high, barely covering anything. His hands don’t wander, not yet, but they settle with heat and promise against your hips.

The park is quiet, but not silent. Somewhere in the distance, footsteps echo. A laugh. Tires on pavement. But here, under the trees, it’s just the two of you. And Sonny’s hands. And the thrum of something dangerous building behind his smile.

“You like makin’ me feel young again?” he asks, voice low. “Walkin’ through the park with you on my arm, wearin’ somethin’ short and tight, eyes all innocent, like you don’t know what it does to me.”

You glance away, cheeks burning.

He catches your chin, tilts your face back toward his. “Look at me.”

You do.

His thumb brushes your jaw, then drifts down, slow and thoughtful, to trace your lower lip.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about you on my lap like this since dessert,” he murmurs. “You gonna make me wait till we get home?”

Your pulse stammers.

“Sonny…” you whisper. “It’s– people could…”

“What? People could see?” he interrupts gently, eyes glinting. “That it? You scared someone’s gonna see? Or you scared how much you’re gonna like it?”

Your stomach drops.

Because the truth is, you don’t know. You don’t know what’s worse: the idea of someone catching a glimpse of you in his lap… or the way that thought makes you clench your thighs together.

His smile turns sharp.

“That’s what I thought.”

And then, his hand slips beneath your hem, warm and rough on the bare skin of your thigh.

“Go on, baby. Be brave for me.”

Your fingers curl in the lapels of his coat.

You don’t mean to grab onto him like that, not at first. But when Sonny’s hand slips higher up your thigh and settles snug against your hip, pulling you down to grind against the hard line straining beneath his slacks, your body reacts before your brain catches up.

His breath hitches.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and his voice is different now. Heavier. He sinks further into the bench, legs spreading wider beneath you. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

You should stop.

You should pull back, make him wait, tug him into a cab and pretend to be decent until you’re inside, doors locked, curtains drawn.

But your hips are rocking once… twice… and Sonny hasn’t told you to stop.

In fact, he’s watching you like he’s in church, like this is sacred.

“Don’t be shy now,” he says, low and coaxing. “You already made your choice, didn’t you?”

You nod, barely.

His hands don’t rush. One slips under your dress, nudging your underwear to the side with practiced ease. The other stays steady on your waist, holding you still as he lines himself up.

You glance toward the path; empty, for now, but it’s never too far from your mind. You can hear the city. Feel it watching.

And maybe that’s why your pulse kicks harder when you sink down on him.

Your mouth falls open around a gasp that doesn’t make a sound.

He fills you slow, deliberate. Letting you feel every inch. Letting you stretch around him with that perfect, aching burn. And when your thighs settle against his, when your hips go slack and he’s seated fully inside you, his hand strokes your cheek like he’s soothing something wild and shaking.

“There she is,” Sonny breathes. “That’s my brave girl.”

You clench around him.

“Still with me, baby?”

You nod again, but it’s weak. Breathless.

He smirks. “Atta girl. Thought so.”

The hand on your waist tightens, encouraging your hips to move, and you follow the rhythm he sets; slow, unhurried rolls that make your lashes flutter and your breath catch every time you bottom out.

The first moan slips from your lips before you can catch it.

He hushes you with a laugh, quiet and wicked against your jaw.

“Shh. Keep it down, sweetheart,” he whispers. “You want someone hearin’ you ridin’ me like this?”

You shake your head, cheeks burning, but he kisses the corner of your mouth anyway. Soft. Proud.

“You sound so fucken’ pretty when you’re tryin’ not to make noise,” he mutters. “Like you know you’re doin’ somethin’ you shouldn’t.”

Your thighs tremble with the effort of moving, of holding yourself upright in his lap. His cock presses deep, thick and hot, dragging against the spot that makes your whole body ache.

“Sonny…” you whisper, breath catching on his name.

He groans, the sound low in his chest. “Say my name again.”

“Sonny,” you breathe, voice breaking.

His hands drag you down harder this time. His hips roll up to meet you, and you cry out before you can bite it back.

“Goddamn,” he hisses. “Look at you.”

You don’t want to.

You don’t want to see how ruined you already look in his lap, hips rocking, lip bitten raw. But Sonny cups the back of your neck, tilts your face down, makes you meet his eyes.

“Let me see it,” he murmurs. “Let me see how good you look takin’ me out here in the open.”

You do.

And it’s all he needs to snap his hips up again, harder this time.

Each bounce of your hips draws a breathier sound from your lips. Each slow roll drags him deeper, your dress bunched high around your waist now, the air cool against your thighs but your skin hot everywhere else.

Sonny’s grip tightens.

“Jesus,” he breathes, his hand clenching the nape of your neck. “You feel so fucken’ good, baby. You always do. But this?” He bucks up hard beneath you, “This is somethin’ else.”

Your hands tremble where they’re braced against his chest. His tie is skewed, shirt rumpled from your grip. You think, distantly, he looks too good like this. Fucked-over and smug. Like the whole park was made just for him to defile.

And then… Footsteps. Quick. Close.

Your breath catches in your throat.

A pair of voices; low and male, laughing as they approach, invisible just beyond the bend in the path. Close enough that if they stray just ten steps left, they’ll see you. They’ll see your hips stuttering on his lap, Sonny buried inside you, your face flushed and your mouth slack.

You freeze instantly.

But Sonny doesn’t.

He grabs your hips, grounding you down hard against him and stays there.

He doesn’t thrust. Doesn’t move.

He just holds you, cock throbbing deep inside you, and watches the panic bloom wide in your eyes.

You shake your head, breath trembling.

“Shh,” he murmurs, voice low and rich like warm honey. “They won’t see unless you give ’em a reason to look.”

His hands flex. Keeping you still.

“Be good for me now, sweetheart.”

You don’t dare move. Don’t dare breathe.

The footsteps grow louder. Then quieter. Then fainter again, until they fade down another path.

You don’t even realise you’ve been clenching around him until Sonny groans.

“Holy shit,” he hisses, voice tight with restraint. “You’re squeezin’ me like you wanted them to see.”

Your whole body flushes.

“I didn’t!” you stammer.

He grins. “You didn’t stop, either.”

“I froze…”

“Froze my ass,” he growls, voice darker now. “You kept me inside you the whole fucken’ time. Drippin’ down my cock like it turns you on. Like a good fucken’ girl.”

Your thighs tremble. His words land too deep, too sharp. You’re soaked. You know he can feel it, hear it.

“Keep goin’,” he murmurs. “C’mon, baby. Let me feel you move again.”

You shake your head, but your hips twitch forward anyway.

“There she is,” he coaxes, grinning wide. “That’s my good girl.”

You whimper. Start riding him again. Slow, but no less desperate.

“You like this?” he mutters, groaning low as you grind down harder. “My pretty little thing, so fucken’ good for me… lettin’ me fuck her in public like she’s proud of it.”

You’re close. It hits you fast. Embarrassingly fast.

You clutch the lapels of his coat tighter, burring your face in the collar to muffle the sounds as your thighs shake around him.

“That’s it,” Sonny breathes, kissing the crown of your head. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

“Sonny!” you gasp. “I… I’m…”

“Gonna cum for me right here, sweetheart?”

You nod frantically.

He snaps his hips up into you just once, and your body unravels like it was waiting for his permission.

Your orgasm hits hard, white-hot and pulsing as you ride it out on his lap; soaking him, clenching around him, shaking with the effort of staying quiet.

His hands don’t stop. He guides you through it, holds you steady, watches you fall apart like you were made to do it in his arms.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Goddamn, you’re so good for me.”

You’re still trembling, your body soft and loose in his lap, thighs twitching with aftershocks as you try to breathe through the pulse between your legs.

But Sonny isn’t done with you.

Not even close.

“Don’t go all floaty on me just yet,” he growls against your ear, voice tight, wrecked. “Not ‘til I finish.”

You barely get a whimper out before he starts to move again.

His grip shifts; one arm banded firm around your waist, the other spreading your ass with a rough drag of his hand – and then he fucks up into you. Hard. Deep. With a filthy, slick sound that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Shit!” you gasp, your voice cracking.

“Yeah?” Sonny hisses, brow furrowed, eyes dark with something close to wild. “That too much for you now, baby? Can’t take it after one little orgasm?”

You shake your head, even as your fingers claw into his shoulders for purchase. His pace is relentless, no teasing now, no gentleness, just the thick, obscene slap of skin and the steady grind of his cock inside your overstimulated cunt.

You moan helplessly.

“That’s right,” he pants, snapping his hips harder. “Take it. Fucken’ take it. You look so goddamn good like this… dress ridin’ up, drippin’ down my cock in the middle of the fucken’ park…”

You bury your face in his neck, biting down to muffle the sounds, and he laughs – a ragged, breathless thing.

“Look at me,” he snarls, hand dragging up to grip your jaw. “You’re gonna look at me when I cum in you.”

Your eyes meet his.

And he breaks.

His rhythm stutters, grip tightening bruisingly at your waist. You can feel the tension roll through his whole body; shoulders tight, abs flexing under his shirt as he bucks into you again, and again, and again.

“Fuck baby, I’m close…” he growls, hips grinding deep. “You feel that? Feel how bad I need it?”

You nod frantically, voice gone, your body nothing but jelly and heat and wet.

“You gonna let me finish in that sweet little pussy?” he grits out, eyes locked to yours. “Let me fucken’ mark you?”

“Please,” you manage to whisper.

And that’s it.

He groans; loud, guttural, raw, thrusting up one last time, cock buried deep as his release hits hard. You feel him twitch, feel the warmth flood inside you in thick, hot waves. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you down, grinding you onto him as his whole body shudders beneath yours.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans through gritted teeth. “That’s it! Take it. Take it, baby. So fucken’ good for me… always so good for me…”

You whimper, clenching around him again, and he hisses, oversensitive now but refusing to pull out.

He slumps back against the bench, chest heaving, one hand still tangled in your hair. The other strokes your back now, soothing over the curve of your spine like he didn’t just fuck you through a public orgasm two feet from a city path.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “You’re a fucken’ dream, you know that?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Your head drops against his shoulder as your body melts into his, and for a moment, the only sound is the distant buzz of traffic and the slow, quiet aftershocks of both your pulses easing down.

Everything’s warm and heavy; your legs weak, your muscles slack, your heart still thudding against your ribs like it hasn’t figured out it’s over yet. Your skin’s slick with sweat, your dress still bunched up around your waist, and you can feelSonny softening inside you, the mess of both of you leaking down your thighs as you sit straddled over his lap in the quiet aftermath.

You try to shift off him, self-conscious now. But his arms tighten around you instantly.

“Nuh-uh,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “Stay right here. Let me enjoy this a little longer.”

You mumble something incoherent into the fabric of his coat, but he just chuckles; low and cocky, that damn smirk already curling back into place like he never lost control at all.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he mutters, still catching his breath. “You really let me fuck you stupid in the middle of Central Park.”

You groan softly into his neck.

“I just wanted to make you proud,” you whisper, cheeks burning.

“You do make me proud,” he corrects softly, giving your ass a firm squeeze before finally sliding his hands down to help fix your dress. “Pretty little thing sittin’ in my lap, all sweet and soft like she didn’t just fucken’ soak me in public.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek; gentle, but his grin is absolutely shit-eating now.

“You realise no man in Manhattan is ever gonna believe you didn’t get bent over tonight?”

You let out a small, mortified laugh, burying your face in his chest.

Sonny just exhales like he’s never been happier. He strokes your cheek with his knuckles softly,  before shifting to pull off his coat draping it over your shoulders like a proud, smug protector.

“Y’know what I love the most?” he asks casually, brushing your hair out of your eyes as you blink up at him.

You raise an eyebrow.

He leans in close, his breath hot on your lips. “That every guy who passed us earlier? Every asshole who looked at you like he had a shot? They’re probably still thinkin’ about you right now, picturin’ what it’d be like to take a girl like you home.”

He tilts his head, eyes glinting.

“And I’m sittin’ here with your cum all over my cock.”

Your breath catches.

He leans back, smug and gorgeous, and runs a hand through his hair.

“I should take you out like this more often,” he says, grinning as he adjusts his shirt and tucks himself back into his slacks. “Let the whole damn city see what I get to come home to.”

You huff, trying to play it off, but your body still hums, still aches, still remembers.

He stands, helping you to your feet like a gentleman, which is rich, considering what he just did to you, and wraps an arm around your waist.

You lean into him without thinking.

As you walk back up the path, glittering skyline in the distance, Sonny presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs,

“Proud of you, sweetheart. Always.”

You smile despite yourself.

Because you’re his.

Sonny's girlfriend who works as an EMS driver or something like that. Then you see him for the first time on a call

The flashing lights, the stern expression, the steady hands- you just couldn't get enough of it. That evening, you practically pounced on him when you arrived back at your apartment that evening.

"Woah, sweetheart. What's going on?" He asked softly, a casual smile on his lips as his hands rested on your hips

"You" was your only response, lips trailing his neck as you blindly rows off your shoes "God, I never realized how hot of a cop you are"

He clearly found the situation humorous, but went along with it, allowing himself to be pushed back into the apartment, blindly stumbling back into the bedroom at your command

But, when you two finally arrived, he switched the roles. He pushed you back onto the mattress, your hands already pulling at the shirt buttons

"What, you like seeing me on duty?" He muttered against your lips "Like seeing me in charge? Barkin' orders..." He trailed kisses down your neck, adding ""Never took you for the type"

You only replied with a soft chuckle, fading softly into a gasping moan "Y-Yeah? Well, maybe we should put those cuffs to use" you dragged him closer by the tie, into a passionate kiss

Soon enough, clothes went flying, soft laughs faded into moans. Legs hiked up over around his waist, nails digging into the hand that kept yours pinned above your head. The crushing weight of his paired with the delicious stretch just seemed right

"God- taking me so good sweetheart" he grunted against your lips, free hand groping the fat at your hips as the pace continued "Never thought a badge would get you so wet. Maybe I should wear my blues more often, huh? Bet I could get you pregnant by Christmas"

If there was one thing you knew, it was that Sonny was a rambler during sex. Anything and everything, he'd say, even when you were too cock drunk to listen properly- like now, with glazed eyes and breath hitching into moans

His hips slammed into yours, coarse hairs at the base of his cock rubbing flush against your overstimulated and puffy cunt, lips nipping yours as he spoke mindlessly

He could feel your approaching orgasm, the legs trembling as they hooked around his waist, keeping him trapped. He could hear the higher pitched moans, eventually breaking off into a waton cry of his name.

He continued the ruthless pace, until he spilled into you with a deep groan. You felt warm spurts of rope after rope, and hazily remember his earlier comment.... Maybe a baby with those blue eyes wouldn't be too bad

But before you could ponder it any longer, he collapsed beside you, skin flushed and arm lazily rubbing your thighs, trying to help with the soreness he knew was likely already lingering

"Love ya, sweetheart" he mumbled lazily, pressing a kiss to your damp hairline "You did good. C'mere" he pulled you closer, other arm resting on your back

After a moment, you spoke softly "God, I gotta start responding to calls in your jurisdiction more often" he offered a hearty laugh in response, clearly looking forward to the idea

‘I usually win, y’know?’ he wipes his face in his towel and you have to laugh.

‘Oh, do you? Looked to me like you were getting your ass handed to you.’ 

‘Please, as if. And you sitting there in that short leather skirt didn’t have anything to do with me losing, huh?’ he sounds annoyed but you know he’s just playing around.

‘Someone’s jealous I had a good night without him.’ 

‘Should I be? Because I swear I could see you drooling over there on that bench watching me.’ 

‘Gosh, Dominick. You’re pretty full of yourself for a loser.’ you roll your eyes at him and he sighs, He knows it’s never a good idea to challenge you like this. 

‘And who’s going home with said loser?’ he raises an eyebrow at you.

‘The girl in the slutty leather skirt from last night.’ you wink and run ahead of him as fast as your high heels allow it

—-----

‘I’m gonna jump in the shower real quick if you-’ you grab him by his damp shirt and lick up his neck before he can even finish his sentence.

‘Oh no you won’t.’ you smirk, inhaling his scent and it immediately brings back that ache. He smells so intoxicating, your whole body reacts to him in a way that makes you dizzy with lust. 

‘Hmmm, you want that sweaty mess, huh?’ he teases, and pulls off his shirt. Yes please, give me more skin to taste, give me more of you to sniff.  

You nuzzle your face in his chest like a cat, your hands needily wandering over his skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps on his body. 

‘I want that sweaty mess all over me. Turn me into a sweaty mess too.’ he wraps his arms around your waist and you fall apart. Fuck him for having this effect on you. 

‘Just need to know how bad you’ve been last night. Were you being a little tease again like you were with me?’ his hands sneak under your skirt, coming to a surprised stop in their endeavors as he feels the lack of underwear. ‘For fuck’s sake.’ he draws in a sharp breath and you press yourself against him.

‘What? Must have lost them somewhere…’ you blink up at him from under your lashes, under the impression that you’ve left him speechless. 

Instead, you feel his palm on your ass. A soft slap that makes you gasp in the best possible way. He searches your eyes for your reaction. 

‘I’ve been bad.’ your tongue licks up his chest again as he slaps your ass again. ‘I think you need to bend me over for that, Dominick.’ 

By the time you reach his bedroom he has stripped out of his sweaty clothes and has started on getting rid of yours, leaving you only in that damn skirt and your lacy bra. 

‘On your hands and knees.’ he breathes, and you follow his orders, instantly wet from the tone in his voice. You love how he gets when you tease him, and you do it for that exact reason. To get a rise out of him. Quite literally. 

His palm lands on your butt again and you rock back, aware that he’s dying to bury himself inside of you as your pussy clenches around nothing. Your face is pressed into the mattress, hands holding on to his sheets as his hand rubs your ass, squeezing your flesh. 

‘I love your big hands all over my ass.’

‘Good. Don’t forget who you belong to.’ Dominick breathes, and you know he doesn’t really doubt your fidelity. The fact that you like to have fun isn’t an issue for him and it makes you adore him even more. 

‘All yours.’ your voice quivers with anticipation. 

You don’t need foreplay when you’re with him. Although you appreciate him taking his sweet time with you, your need for him is so carnal, most of the time you just want him to fuck you senseless. 

He slaps your ass again before his fingers slide up your slit, feeling your dampness and your moan turns into a whine as he withdraws them again immediately. You hear him lick his fingers. Fuck.

‘Mhmmm. My dirty girl. What has you so excited?’

‘You. Please, I need you. I missed you so much last night.’

‘Then why weren’t you here with me, huh? Left me hanging just to be naughty at the club.’ his hand lands on your butt firmly, yet not hard enough to leave a mark. 

He will do that in other ways; little hickeys all over your body, tiny bruises from digging his fingers into you. And you smile thinking about how you scratch up his chest and back; you are so possessive of him and why shouldn’t it show. That’s the reason he truly doesn’t care when you leave him; because you come back every time. On hands and knees.

‘Yes, I was naughty. But all I could think about all night was you. And the things you do to me. And how you are going to punish me for teasing you.’ you look back at him with a cheeky smile and the way he smirks at you in return says it all. 

‘I’d like to be stern with you, doll. But I’m so weak for you and you make it so hard.’

You reach back to grab his cock and nod in agreement. 

‘So hard, huh? Well, what a shame, whatever should we do about that? Couldn’t think of a single thing, especially with my pussy up in your face in this.’ You wiggle your ass and he groans in frustration.  

It’s obvious he’s trying to make you suffer, trying to tease you as long as possible but by his own admittance, he is too weak for you. Especially when you’re being mouthy like this. Dominick, as experienced as he is, isn’t used to someone like you. And vice versa. 

‘I love the view.’ his hand glides over your ass and thighs, and you feel his dick jerk in your hand. ‘And I love having your pussy in my face.’ 

You moan as you feel his tongue between your legs, his grip tightening on your hips. As good as he is at eating you out, he isn’t allowed to do this right now. Not after getting you all hot and bothered, not after already teasing you enough. Yes, you admit, you can dish it out but you can’t take it. Not right now. And without realizing it, he got you exactly where he wanted you. Desperate, needy, craving his love. An emotional, hungover mess.

‘Don’t.’ you push him away and let yourself fall down on the bed before turning around to face him. ‘You won, okay? I love you. And I need you. Everywhere. I love you.’

Sonny smiles as he pulls you closer for more contact. ‘Well why didn’t you say so sooner?’ 

‘Sonny, in case you haven’t realized, I don’t like not being in control. But the thing is, you make me lose all of it.’

‘That’s not a bad thing.’ 

‘Okay, maybe it isn’t. Anyway, I said it. I mean it. You happy now?’ you roll your eyes at his stupid smile, welcoming the feeling of his body now fully pressed down on yours. 

‘I am. Are you?’ he stares into your eyes and you try not to give in to the urge to look away. You can’t hide from him behind your jokes and teasing, behind your bratty attitude, as fun as it is sometimes. 

‘I am. But I’d be so much happier if you were inside me already.’ you smile, looking at him with puppy eyes. 

That familiar way in which his eyes ignite at your words makes your head spin, and you gasp as he pushes into you with one smooth motion, your hands immediately grabbing at his arms and shoulders. His lips find yours. 

New Year's Eve was fun and all, sure. Food and drink. Dancing and games. Fireworks on the T.V. But when one hosts one of these parties, it's another story. 

You'd snapped at John since set up time, stressed and grouchy behind the scenes while you made sure everyone else enjoyed themselves. 

Munch absorbed your pissy attitude because he knew where it came from. You wanted the night to be a grand success, and by all accounts, it was.

When you finally closed the door behind the last guest, you slumped back against it and sighed heavily. 

From his favourite armchair, Munch watched your shoulders droop. Pretty in your party dress and heels, your hair had come a little undone. You peeled yourself off the door and trudged over to him. Closer, he noticed some of your mascara and lipstick had smudged and worn away.

You stopped. Huffed. Put your hands on your hips and surveyed the living room. Your eyes landed on John.

He knew how it looked, sat in his cozy armchair while the apartment was cluttered with decorations and party trash.

You sighed. "Better do something about all this," you said pointedly, and snatched up a mostly-eaten bowl of popcorn from the coffee table.

"Honey," John said.

"What?" you bit out, testing beer cans and dropping the empties into the bowl.

"Honey, look at me, would you?" John softly prompted.

You stood up and lifted your eyes to his. "What, John?" you sighed, your voice laced with tiredness.

John sighed too, frowning. "Your party was a hit, honey. Everyone said so. Now, there's nothing here that can't wait 'til morning. It's our New Year's, too." He offered you his hand. "Come sit with me."

You regarded John as you deliberated. You had always had a problem with 'taking the win'. The compulsion to keep going was strong, but it was after midnight and your calves and shoulders ached, eyes itchy. Despite all this, you muttered snarkily, "Morning, hm? Technically, it's morning now, you know."

John frowned again, deeper. His eyes lost some of their warmth as his gaze turned cool and hardened. "I don't know if you noticed yourself doing this, but you've been at me all night. And I can take it, believe me. But up to a point. Now I know you, sweetheart—don't," John lifted his pointed finger because he saw your shift in posture and knew you were about to attack, "just let me finish, honey." He looked at you over the rim of his glasses, and made sure you were still and silent before he continued. "...I know you. This party was great but it was stressful. And I know you need something to turn your brain off, and let me tell you, I've got it. But not if you're a fucking brat."

Your jaw fell. John so rarely swore that when he chose to, the effect was immediate and devastating. A switch flipped in your brain and the desire to crumple at his feet burned through your chest.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"I know, angel." Munch nodded. "Now c'mere, and let's put that mouth to better use, hm?"

John waited for you to nod before he started unbuckling his belt. 

You made your way over and stood between his spread legs.

John's hands cinched your waist and he squeezed your softness. He tilted his head up and his mouth searched for yours. You tucked your hair behind your ear and leant down, cupped his cheek and pressed your lips to his.

You kissed slowly, tenderly. You felt John's jaw work beneath your palm as he licked into your mouth. 

Soon, one of his hands slid from your side and wrapped around the bulge in his trunks. You heard the rhythmic, tell-tale clink of his belt. He was stroking his erection to a full and aching hardness.

You parted from John's lips. "Is that for me?" you murmured, running your fingers over the sensitive head.

"You tell me," John said, stroking up and down through the cotton. "Will you be Daddy's good girl?"

You nodded. "Yes, Daddy."

John's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure, princess? Only good girls get to suck Daddy's cock."

Suddenly, there was nothing more you wanted in this world. Your mouth watered at the prospect and your thoughts became butterflies, fluttering away as if they'd sprouted wings. 

You sunk to your knees and laid your hands on his thighs. "I'll be good, Daddy. I swear."

Temptingly, John brought the waistband down to reveal his long, hard cock. He sighed at the relief, and let you gawp at it before wrapping his fist around the base and squeezing.

"So that's why I should let you have it?" Munch teased. "Because you'll be good?"

You shifted closer on your knees and outright begged, shamelessly. "Nothing tastes as good as your cock, Daddy. I want it in my mouth so bad." You kept glancing from John's eyes to his cock. "Want to suck it so good for you, Daddy. Please give it to me."

"Oh, baby," John crooned. He slid one hand into your hair and cradled the back of your head. "Come here," he murmured. "Wet your lips, open up."

You let yourself be led by him, closer to his erection. You licked your lips and pushed your tongue out just in time for John to feed you his cock, sliding the head along your slippery tongue.

"Ohh," John moaned, "fuck, honey. Close your mouth, baby. That's it."

You worked up to a rhythm easily. In some ways, nothing felt as natural or normal as this. In your head, all the lights flicked off one by one until there was just one left. This. The slow and steady bob of your head up and down John's hard length.

Whenever you looked up at him, Munch's heavy sighs turned to vocal groans.

He held your head and guided you along his stiff dick. It was a gentle gesture. Comforting. Sweet. While you were doing something so dirty, it made your head spin. With his other hand he made a ring around the base of his cock to keep it at the precise angle.

"Come on. Come on, baby," John coached you to take him deeper, to get your lips butting up against his fingers on every downward pass. 

When you did, he rewarded you with all manner of praise. "Yes, honey," he'd say, "you feel so good. You're so good to me, baby. So good for Daddy."

You kept going, because cycling between making John moan, groan, and murmur praises made your spirit soar and had you soaked between your legs. Soon, John shifted closer and the single ring he made around himself became a tight fist.

You knew what was coming and you braced for it, and your intuition was confirmed when John groaned, "Oh, it's coming. Daddy's gonna cum. Hold on, honey."

You moved to the spot Munch liked. John had you suck on the head of his cock, your lips stretched around the crown, while he jerked off into your mouth. 

This, because he liked to watch it. He liked to see his dick throb and pulse between your lips while he blew his load onto your tongue.

"Don't make a mess, baby," John panted, fisting up and down the shaft. "These are Daddy's good pants."

You nodded, looking up at him with wide eyes and a stuffed mouth.

"I mean it, honey," John huffed and puffed. "Don't let it. D-dribble out."

You moaned onto his dick in answer, and John shuddered. You squeezed his thighs and licked at his slit.

"Ohh. That's it. That's it. I'm cumming, baby. Ssuck it—"

The tip of John's cock burst white onto your tongue and you swallowed quickly.

"—Oh, good girl. Oh, angel—"

You drank his release like a woman possessed, timing the click of your throat to Munch's spurting dick. Your eyes watered but you kept your gaze trained on his face.

"—That's it. Good girl. Take it all, mmff."

John's hand fell away and the very last of the contractions faded slowly away. John cradled under your jaw and guided you slowly off him, until his bloated, spent cock fell from your lips.

He bade you open your mouth, no doubt to see that you'd swallowed every last drop, and he must have been very pleased with his inspection.

You two were getting hot and heavy, he was pressing kisses down your stomach as he approached the apex of your legs. However, you look up when he suddenly stopped, finding him with his head bowed.

When he looked back, you asked with an amused laugh, slightly breathless "What the hell was that about?"

the day was going slower than usual, Sonny had been out of the squad room all day, and quite frankly, you missed him.

so when he did come back, you made sure both of you had some time and you pulled him aside.

you hooked a finger under his chin and carefully guided him down and into a kiss, humming against his lips and easily melting into him.

“hey sweetheart”

he murmured when you broke the kiss after a long minute, smiling against his lips while he chuckled.

“you miss me?”

his words made you roll your eyes but you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips into a full blown grin, unable to keep it under wraps in his presence.

Sonny moved his hands to your hips, tugging you impossibly tighter against his chest while your arms moved around his neck.

“you know i missed you”

you told, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him into another kiss before quickly getting lost in the embrace.

“don’t know if you don’t use your words”

he told, squeezing at the flare of your hips while nipping at your bottom lip, and then your chin before he nipped and sucked at your pulse point.

a breathy sound fell from your lips, unable to stop the sound as Sonny whispered lowly against your ear.

“c’mon sweetheart, use your words”

you could’ve strangled him, being so bold and cocky while you were barely holding on from a couple kisses and squeezes to your hips.

“don’t be a smartass”

his eyes twinkled with mischief at your words, his lips already back on yours in another hungry kiss while you moaned into it, the sound easily muffled against his lips.

Sonny nipped at your bottom lip again just to hear you gasp, soothing the sting with his tongue while you shook your head at him.

“feeling risky?”

was all he asked and you knew exactly what he meant.

he had told you about how he wanted to experiment a little with your sex life, and that included being a little more risky with where you had sex.

but you never expected him to want to try having sex here of all places.

“really Dominick?”

his hands squeezed at your hips again at the use of his first name, unable to help the amusement that painted his features.

“we don’t have to..”

even as he said it, both of you knew he was all in for the idea and he was only saying that in case you weren’t in the mood, but you were.

your hands moved across his chest, sliding lower until you teasingly tugged on his belt to pull him closer while he smirked at you, already leaning in to capture your lips in another kiss.

Sonny kissed you hungrily, one of his hands cradling the side of your face while the other gave your hip another squeeze.

“the shower?”

you asked against his lips, pulling a strangled groan from him while you giggled against his lips.

his hands squeezed your hips again before letting you pull away from him, carefully making your way throughout the building and towards the showers.

the water was nice as you turned it on, quickly and easily stripping out of your clothes and stepping under the spray with a contented sigh.

another sigh fell from your lips before footsteps grew closer and a knowing smile graced your face, slowly pulling back the curtain to smile at Sonny as he stood just outside the shower.

he didn’t wait for an invitation in, instead he quickly worked off his own clothes and crashed his lips against yours once he was naked, making you gasp against his lips.

“mmhm fancy seeing you here, Dominick”

you teased, moving your arms around his neck and giggling as he kissed you over and over again.

“quit calling me Dominick”

Sonny murmured against your lips, using both hands to cup your boobs while pressing you against the wall of the shower, the cool tile causing you to gasp at the feeling.

his hands moved across your body with an expert precision, carefully hooking his right hand under your knee to pull your leg up and around his hip.

“baby, please”

he chuckled into your jaw at your plea, followed by a satisfied hum at your preferred nickname fell from your lips.

“what sweetheart?”

the question was laced with that knowing and teasing lilt he always used, and you only pushed his face away in response.

Sonny chuckled, pressing a kiss to your palm before he moved his left hand to his cock, stroking himself slowly while you watched.

his hand moved in languid strokes, groaning against your mouth as pleasure sparked through his body.

“fuck me, baby.. please?”

you all but whined the question against his lips, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him into another kiss.

“since you asked so nicely”

the space between you both was nonexistent now, his chest against yours while he moved the head of himself through your wetness, making you whine again.

he crowded further into your space, pulling your leg higher around his face before slowly starting to push into your warmth.

both of you let out a strangled sound at the feeling of the other, unable to stop it as Sonny sank inch after inch into your wet warmth until he bottomed out.

“oh fuck..”

you mewled, your head lolling to the side while he leaned in to press kisses and nip his way across your throat.

“i’ve missed this so much”

Sonny whispered into your skin, staying against you to allow you to adjust to him after your week apart.

it wasn’t as if you hadn’t spent the week together, because you had. you just hadn’t been intimate together, and it felt like you had been apart for the week, as silly as it sounds.

but now, now you had him again, and you weren’t letting go so easily.

“move please”

he nodded at your words, making sure your back was flush against the wall before beginning to move, slowly rocking his hips and making you moan out at the feeling.

“can you be quiet for me, sweetheart?”

his question was greeted with a small nod and another whine, your walls fluttering around him as he started to rock into you.

moans fell from your lips like water, even as Sonny tried to muffle them against his own lips, the pleasure buzzing through your body was too good to ignore.

Sonny rocked into you again, giving another sharp thrust and squeezing at your flesh as he held your leg tight around his hip.

“does that feel good, baby?”

you grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him into another kiss, muffling your joint moans against the others lips before you whispered back to him.

“feels so good, baby”

he hummed in approval at your words, nipping at your bottom lip and then deepening your kisses, pushing his tongue into your mouth and moving it against your own.

his left hand hooked under your other knee, helping to hoist you up and press you against the wall with both of your legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

“is that okay?”

Sonny’s care and attention to your needs made your heart ache with a love that only he could provide you with.

your cunt fluttered around him again, pulling a throaty groan from him as you leaned in, trailing kisses across his jaw and down his throat until you were nipping across his skin.

the water continued to cascade down onto you both, somewhat drowning out the sounds of what you were actually doing.

each of his thrusts grew in pace, rocking into you with an unrelentless pace and an unwavering need.

“fuck Sonny!”

he chuckled, tilting his head to catch your lips in another kiss, groaning against your lips as your cunt fluttered around him again.

“i’m right here, sweetheart”

his words were whispered against your lips, his right hand still under your knee while his left hand cradled your face, stroking his thumb across your cheek.

the head of his cock hit that one spot inside you and your back arched off the wall towards him, pressing your chest into his as another slipped from your lips.

“i’ve got you.. fuck, i’ve got you”

you nodded along to his words, lost in the pleasure coursing through your body while every rock of his hips had the head of his cock hitting the spot with more precision than the last.

Sonny smirked into his next kiss as you moaned again, your head lolling to the side as the pleasure became too much.

it wasn’t a surprise you were already finding your peak, but you weren’t complaining. it had been a week without Sonny like this, and you were willing to take that missing intimacy however you could get it.

he continued to rock up into you, each thrust sending you closer and closer until it all became way too much.

his hips only had to rock up into you a couple more times before you were cresting over the edge with a breathy moan, your cunt clamping down around his cock and causing his thrusts to falter.

“there we go, that’s my girl”

Sonny cursed as your walls spasmed rapidly around him, soaking his cock in your release and causing his pace to falter again.

the water continued to pour down onto you both as the temperature changed, causing Sonny to gasp as your cunt continued to flutter around him.

“you’ve got me, sweetheart”

you hummed at his words, pulling him into another kiss as his body pressed against yours, giving a sloppy thrust and earning a sensitive flutter of your walls.

he grunted, resting his forehead against yours before he grunted, rocking into you one last time before following you over the edge.

a low groan fell from Sonny’s lips as your walls gave another sensitive flutter, causing his pace to completely falter with a final sloppy thrust.

“fuck baby”

Sonny buried himself to the hilt, rutting shallowly into your warmth and spilling himself into you with a muffled groan.

his forehead dropped to your shoulder, trying to ground himself in the moment while you arched into him again, groaning lowly as he nuzzled into your throat.

“you’re so good to me”

you giggled softly above him, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him up and into another kiss.

both of you stayed like that for a long minute, your chest heaving and your breathing laboured from the heat of everything that had just happened.

when you finally caught your breath again, you stole another kiss from Sonny, whispering softly against his lips.

“we need to get back to work”

he shook his head though, kissing you back with a still bubbling hunger and want, slowly rocking his hips up into you again to hear you gasp.

“one more round? i miss you, sweetheart”

It had been eight months since Elliot and Kathy had divorced. Eight months Elliot had spent alone, trying to figure out what the hell to do next. Eight months of trying to find the words to say and eight months of failing to.

The first couple months after Elliot's divorce, you thought about telling him how you felt--how you'd felt for years. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it every single day since the moment he told you they were getting divorced.

Your fear of losing your best friend was what stopped you from ever admitting your feelings. You couldn't bear to face that possibility. You’d rather have him as just your friend than nothing at all.

But everything changed for you when you met a handsome stranger just outside your favorite coffee shop on your way to work. Tony, as you would later learn, was an emergency room doctor at Mercy Hospital. He had just recently moved to the city after finishing his residency at a hospital in Chicago.

Before long, you and Tony were inseparable. He was kind, charming, and funny--and he treated you better than any man ever had. You were content, happy even, despite the little voice in the back of your mind. The voice that reminded you of how much you loved Elliot--how much you needed him.

That voice was always strongest when you were together, which meant you started to pull away from him--spending more time with Tony and less with Elliot. Even though the two of you worked together and saw each other nearly every day, you tended to stay in your office and avoid too much actual contact with him if you could.

You felt badly about the distance you'd created, but you didn't know what else to do. If Elliot felt the same way, he'd never even hinted at it, let alone expressed it, so you felt the point was moot. Why put yourself through the pain of rejection if you didn't have to? Plus, you had Tony now. Focusing on your relationship with him had to be your priority.

Elliot was no fool. He watched you pull away from him after you met Tony—and he thought he knew why. He couldn’t stand to hear you talk about him—didn’t want to imagine you with someone else. Someone other than him. He had no right to feel that way and he knew it, but there are just some things you can’t control.

You’d been with Tony for 6 months when Elliot finally reached his breaking point. The two of you, along with Olivia, Munch, and Fin, were in the squad room after a particularly stressful case. You were chatting with Olivia about her latest beau and she inquired about Tony. You told her you had been canceling dinner plans with him for the last week due to your case load, but you were planning on seeing him tonight.

“He’s perfect for you, (Y/N),” Olivia said with a smile. “You always light up when you talk about him.”

You offered her a small smile in return. “He really is amazing.” You leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “I think he’s been shopping for rings.”

Olivia’s eyes widened. “How long’s it been?”

“6 months,” you answered.

“Damn. That’s fast.” She shrugged, “but if you know, then you know.”

You opened your mouth to tell her that you didn’t know, but Elliot beat you to it. “Jesus, (Y/L/N), I didn’t expect you to just marry the first guy who jumped in your bed. When did you turn into such a needy slut?”

Your face paled and you stepped back as if he’d slapped you. He knew you well enough to know exactly what to say to hurt you and he didn’t pull his punches.

“What the hell, Elliot?” Olivia snapped.

Elliot avoided making eye contact with you—immediately regretting his outburst. He wasn’t one to apologize, and to be honest, he wasn’t very good at it, but he felt the strong urge to beg for your forgiveness.

“I shouldn’t've—“ he started.

“Leave it,” you cut in. “Whatever it is you were about to say, just don’t.” You grabbed your coat and your bag before turning back in his direction. “I’m going to dinner with a man who treats me with respect and genuinely cares about me. I would think you of all people would be happy for me.” You paused. “I know you're tired and stressed, but you don't have the right to take it out on me. I'm your friend, Elliot, although given what you just said to me, I'm not even sure about that."

With that, you walked out the door, never slowing or sparing a glance behind you.

Elliot felt terrible in more ways than one as he watched you leave. He could feel the gazes of his friends, but he couldn’t bear to look at them. “I’m going home,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, maybe you should get some sleep before you insult anyone else,” Fin said none too gently.

In any other situation, Elliot would have clapped back, but the fact that he'd just hurt you like that made him keep his mouth shut. He threw on his coat and stormed out of the precinct before anyone else could speak.

The entire way home, Elliot was fuming. He was mad at himself, mad at Tony, but most of all he was mad at you. Mad that you found someone who fit you so perfectly. Mad that you wanted someone else. Mad that you were happy. God help him--he felt terrible for it--hated himself, even. What kind of person felt this way about their best friend? Wasn't he supposed to be your number one supporter? Your biggest champion?

He was filled with regret as he entered his small apartment. It was mostly empty and completely devoid of personality. He had pictures of his kids, but not much else.

There was, however, one particularly special picture in the living room. He walked over to it and picked up the frame, his heart clenching as he stared at it. It was a picture of you and him on a random Saturday. He'd dragged you to the park for an early morning run, which he knew you hated. You'd gotten your revenge by pushing him into a pond beside the running path.

After you'd stopped laughing, you tried to help him out of the water, but he pulled you in with him, leaving you both soaking wet and laughing hysterically. When you made it back to dry land, you'd dragged him close and snapped a picture of the two of you--muddy, wet, and laughing.

The picture really showcased your personality--light, bubbly, happy, and just a bit goofy. It was his favorite picture and one of his favorite moments with you...it was the moment he realized he loved you. A feeling he'd never expressed, even though he'd felt it long before he and Kathy solidified their divorce.

It was almost two years later and he still hadn't told you how he felt. And now that he was a free man--and had been for a while--you'd found the man of your dreams. He'd managed to blow his chance to be with you and now it was too late.

The picture suddenly became blurry and he sat it back down on the table before wiping his eyes. He wasn't good with emotions and he was thankful no one was there to witness this particular display.

He tried to push all thoughts of you from his mind as he wandered around his kitchen, scrounging up something to eat. He tried not to picture you at dinner with Tony. He tried not to imagine what you would do after dinner. He tried not to think about anything at all...but no matter what he did, you plagued his mind from the moment you'd walked out the door. He decided to go out to a bar and get himself a drink or two. It was Friday after all and he'd had a long week. Why not blow off some steam?

You weren't in the best of moods when you met Tony for dinner that night. Elliot's words echoed in your ears and the feeling of hurt had yet to dissipate. He'd never lashed out at you like that before. Not once. You'd heard him do it to other people, especially when he was angry or frustrated--but he'd never done it to you. You weren't sure what it meant now that he had, but you were certain it wasn't good.

Tony picked up on your mood immediately and he was obviously concerned. He'd asked if you were alright, if you wanted to reschedule...but you'd told him it had just been a long week and not to worry.

"You seem distracted, (Y/N)," Tony commented gently. "Are you sure you're okay?"

You looked up from the food you'd been playing with on your plate and sighed. "Sorry, Tony. I've got a lot on my mind."

He nodded. You could tell he wanted to probe deeper, but he wisely opted to back off. He started to chatter about some new resident at the hospital, complaining about how green the kid was, and your mind began to drift.

You knew you should have been paying attention, but you really couldn't find the energy to--or perhaps desire was the better word. All you could think about was Elliot. When had everything gone so wrong? How did it all become so fucked up? Why did you care so much? He clearly didn't.

A single tear slid down your cheek and dropped onto your plate, surprising you out of your thoughts. You hadn't realized you'd been crying until that moment. You quickly wiped your eyes, hoping Tony wouldn't notice. When you glanced up at him, you knew he'd seen and you could tell he wanted to know what the hell was going on.

The problem was, you weren't even sure what was happening. Why did you feel so damn sad? As you stared at Tony, you realized there was only one person you wanted to talk to about it...and it wasn't the man in front of you. You were hurting and you only wanted the man who'd hurt you. How fucked up was that?

"Seriously, babe, what's going on?" Tony asked gently, concern lacing his voice.

You shook your head. "I don't really wanna talk about it."

"Okay...I wouldn't normally push, but you were literally just crying into your pasta."

"I'm aware, Anthony," you said rather harshly.

He winced slightly and you sighed sadly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap," you said softly.

"It's okay."

There was something about the placating tone of his voice that just set you off. "No it's not! None of this is okay! I'm not okay!"

He was clearly taken aback by the intensity of your outburst and you found yourself feeling incredibly embarrassed...and perhaps a bit annoyed.

"I just--I just wanna go home," you mumbled.

"Okay," he said gently. "Why don't you go wait in the car. I'll pay the bill."

He handed you the keys and you practically ran out of the restaurant. You couldn't explain what you were feeling--it was like you were suffocating, like the very air you were breathing was toxic. Your heart was pounding out of your chest and everything just felt wrong. Your vision started to darken and you felt like you were being crushed...you fell to your knees on the sidewalk, body shaking as you started to hyperventilate.

Moments later, Tony came rushing out and dropped to his knees beside you. You could hear him asking you what was wrong, but you couldn't answer him. You hadn't recognized the signs at first, but somewhere inside you, you knew you were having a panic attack. You couldn't explain why and you certainly couldn't tell him what was happening.

You heard Tony say something about an ambulance, but your brain was too foggy to comprehend what was happening. You'd had panic attacks all your life, but this one felt different--it came on even more suddenly and it was more intense than any attack you'd ever had before. Something about it felt final...deadly.

You heard the sounds of sirens in the distance, and at first you thought they were headed for you, but they never seemed to move any closer. Your vision was almost black, your head was pounding, and you felt as if your body was full of lead--you knew you were moments away from passing out. The last thing you heard was the ringing of a cellphone in close proximity to you. Just as you realized the phone was yours, you succumbed to the blackness of unconsciousness.

A couple blocks away, an ambulance and several police officers were responding to a call for shots fired at a local bar. According to the call, one man was dead, one was critically injured, and four more were wounded.

Witnesses said a man had opened fire inside the bar after an argument had escalated. After the first few shots rang out, another man had gotten up from his seat, pulled out his gun, and identified himself as police. The first gunman pulled the trigger twice, shooting the police officer twice in the chest. As he was falling to the ground, he pulled his own trigger, killing the gunman almost instantly with a shot directly to the heart.

The officer laid on the ground, blood seeping from his wounds, terror gripping his body. His only thought was of his family, and how he would never get to see them again.

He could hear voices all around him, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, and he was beginning to feel cold. He knew what that meant, even if he didn't want to admit it.

He heard the scream of sirens followed by the sound of footsteps near him. He heard a man's voice ask a question, but he didn't hear the response.

He heard snippets of what was said, "Gun," "argument," "scared,"...but the one that caught his attention was "Benson." He didn't understand why someone had said his partner's name and he tried to ask, but his voice came out as nothing but incoherent sounds.

The sound of more sirens neared and he began to drift towards sleep or death...he wasn't sure which one. His eyes had closed and his body felt heavy as he took what he feared would be his last few breaths.

"Detective Benson," Olivia answered on the second ring.

"Hi, Detective. This is Officer Bailey."

"Hey, Bailey. You got a case for me?"

"Not exactly, ma'am..." he paused. "It's your partner. Detective Stabler?"

Olivia felt her blood go cold. "What about him?"

"He was involved in an incident at O'Malley's Bar on 5th," Bailey said slowly. "Bar fight turned deadly. Apparently, Detective Stabler shot the gunman."

She inhaled sharply. "Is he alright?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line that told Olivia everything she needed to know. "How bad is it?" she asked softly.

"It's bad, detective. They're taking him to Mercy Hospital. You should probably go there."

Olivia's first thought was of Elliot's kids--she needed to call them when she had more information. She didn't want to scare them if she didn't need to. "Thanks for the call. I'm heading over there now."

She hung up, grabbed her keys and her coat, then ran out the door. She intended to drive with lights and sirens to get there--policy be damned.

When she got to the first floor of her apartment building, it suddenly hit her that she should call you. Even after his comments earlier that day, Elliot was still your best friend. You'd want to know if something happened to him and you'd be beyond pissed if Olivia didn't tell you right away.

She called your phone several times as she drove to the hospital, each time leaving a voicemail begging you to call her back.

She was thankful she lived so close to the hospital and she made it there in record time. She pulled up to the emergency room entrance just as an ambulance pulled up to the front doors.

Olivia quickly got out of her car and jogged towards the entrance, but she stepped aside as EMS rushed someone through the doors. Olivia's face paled as she got a good look at the person on the gurney--you.

She ran in after them, practically running right into Tony as he came in. Olivia recognized him immediately. "What the hell happened?" she asked in a rush.

Tony looked over at her in surprise, as if he was just realizing she was there. A look of recognition crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced with confusion. "She, uh--I don't know. She collapsed outside the restaurant." He eyed her carefully. "What are you doing here?"

"Elliot was involved in some sort of altercation at a bar. They brought him here, so I came down to figure out what the hell happened."

Tony looked shocked. "When?"

"About 15 minutes ago."

Tony's face paled. "That's right about when (Y/N) collapsed..."

Olivia's eyes widened. "What are the odds of that?"

He shook his head. "I'm gonna say extremely unlikely."

She sighed and shook her head too. "I need to check in with the front desk and see what they know."

The ladies at the front desk informed Olivia that Elliot had received two GSWs to the chest and was currently in surgery. They promised to keep her updated and let her know if anything changed. She also asked them to keep her updated on your status as well. It didn't seem likely that the two incidents were connected, but she had to admit it was really damn weird.

Olivia joined Tony in the waiting room and made several phone calls to Elliot's kids and the rest of her team. She wanted to make sure they all knew what was going on. The kids were out of town with Kathy, but Fin, Munch, and Cragen all promised to come down to the hospital immediately.

When they arrived, the five of them sat in the waiting room in silence. None of them knew what to say.

About an hour after the others had arrived, a nurse came into the waiting room. "(Y/L/N)?" she called.

Tony looked up at the sound of your name. He jumped out of his seat and walked towards the nurse. "Is she okay?" he asked urgently.

The nurse nodded. "She's awake and asking for someone named Elliot."

Olivia made eye contact with Fin, who was sitting across from her. He shared her knowing glance before they both looked in Tony's direction.

"Oh, um...I'm her boyfriend. Would I be able to see her?"

The nurse nodded again. "Sure, Dr. Cooper. She's in 103."

Tony immediately headed towards your room without waiting for the nurse to follow. Olivia got up and walked over to the nurse before she could walk away. "Excuse me," she called.

The nurse turned back to her. "Yes?"

"You said (Y/N) was asking for Elliot?"

She nodded. "You know him?"

Olivia nodded her affirmation. "He's my partner. He was brought in about 2 hours ago for GSWs to the chest. I believe he's in surgery right now."

The nurse paled. "Dr. (Y/L/N) didn't have any noticeable injuries. Was she there when he was shot?"

Olivia shook her head. "She was a couple blocks away. We're not sure what happened to her."

"The doctor said it was probably an intense panic attack, based on the symptoms Dr. (Y/L/N) described."

Olivia was a little surprised, but she didn't say it. "Thank you."

The nurse nodded and headed back into the patient area. Olivia returned to her coworkers and shared the information she'd just received.

"A panic attack?" Fin asked in surprise.

Olivia nodded. "That's what the nurse said."

"At the same time Elliot got shot?" Munch asked.

"Roughly, yeah." Olivia confirmed.

"What the hell are the odds of that?" Cragen asked.

"I'd say a million to one," Munch answered.

"At least she's gonna be okay," Fin said softly.

They all nodded their agreement. No one wanted to mention their fears about Elliot's survival...they just had to hope he would pull through.

You'd been surprised to find yourself in the hospital when you awoke, but you quickly realized the intensity of your panic attack must have literally knocked you out. Tony wouldn't have known what was happening, so of course he called 911.

You checked your phone as soon as you woke up and discovered you had several missed calls and messages from Olivia. You listened to the most recent one and felt the blood drain from your face.

"(Y/N), please answer your phone! I'm getting worried. Elliot's been in some sort of altercation and it's bad. I don't know what's going on, but I'm on my way to the hospital. Please call me." Olivia's voice sounded panicked, so you knew it must be really bad.

You pressed your call button and the moment a nurse walked into the room you asked for Elliot. The nurse told you she didn't know who that was, but she said she'd go out to the waiting room to see.

Much to your dismay, the person who walked into your room 5 minutes later, was Tony. You felt terrible for feeling that way, but not seeing Elliot standing in your doorway confirmed your worst fears.

"Elliot?" you whispered, the meaning of your question very clear.

Tony sighed as he came to the side of your bed. "He's in surgery," he said gently.

Your skin was already pale, but you turned white as a sheet upon hearing those words. "What happened?"

"He was shot twice in the chest. Some guy shot several people during a bar fight and Elliot stopped him."

"How bad is it?" You didn't really wanna ask, but Tony was an ER doctor after all...he would know and he wouldn't lie to you.

His expression was sad. "It's bad, (Y/N/N)," he said honestly. "It's really bad."

You couldn't stop the tears from sliding down your cheeks. You didn't want to ask more questions--didn't really wanna know--but you needed to. "What are the odds?"

Tony shook his head, not wanting to upset you further.

"Anthony, please," you begged.

He sighed. "He might not make it through surgery, but even if he does, the chances of survival are slim. He lost a lot of blood and there was internal damage from the bullets."

You closed your eyes and took a shuddering breath. "Where's Olivia?" you whispered.

"She's out in the waiting room. Want me to get her?"

"Please," you said so softly he barely heard you.

A few minutes later, Tony reappeared in the doorway with a distraught Olivia. She pushed past him and into your room, quickly crossing the short distance to your bedside. Tony backed out of the room and out of sight.

"How are you feeling?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm fine," you answered. "I don't understand how this could happen."

Olivia knew what you meant, but she didn't have a good answer for you. Elliot didn't frequent bars alone, nor was he the type to get into any kind of bar fight. But honestly, what really bothered her was the timing of your panic attack. "Why did you have a panic attack?"

You looked at her in surprise. "I--I don't really know. It just came on suddenly."

"Right when Elliot was in trouble? That just seems...odd."

"I can't explain it. I was outside waiting for Tony to pay the bill and it hit me. I was on my knees, unable to breathe, in mere seconds."

"You know I'm not a superstitious person and I don't really believe in any of that mystical stuff, but if I did...I'd say you felt something happen to him and that's why you had the attack."

You wouldn't classify yourself as some kind of mystic either, but you were a psychologist. You'd spent years studying the human mind, and nothing about it made complete sense. The brain is the most complex part of human anatomy...so complex, in fact, that we may never fully understand it.

"I suppose it's possible," you began slowly. "We know there are examples of minds being connected in inexplicable ways, the best example being that of twins. Twins claim to be able to sense each other and understand each other in ways the rest of us could never really understand. Twins a 1,000 miles away from each other claim to know the exact moment their twin died. Some people claim to have similar bonds with siblings and significant others. So while it seems unlikely, it is entirely plausible that such a connection could be formed between two people."

"If anyone was to have a connection like that, it would be you and Elliot."

"What makes you say that?"

Olivia gave you a knowing look, one you'd seen on her face countless times before...just never directed at you. "I might not be a profiler, (Y/N), but I'm not an idiot. It doesn't take a good detective to know that the bond between you and Elliot is different--special."

"He's my best friend," you conceded, although you knew that was not what she meant.

"This goes way beyond friendship," she said simply.

She didn't elaborate and you didn't need her to. Some part of you knew she was right, or at least suspected it. But if her idea of this connection was accurate--and your interpretation of the meaning was accurate--then didn't that imply your feelings were not one-sided?

You weren't sure if you were ready to admit it, but this revelation changed everything for you. In that moment, you decided if Elliot survived this, you would tell him how you feel...consequences be damned.

**********

Two weeks went by without much change or improvement in Elliot's status. He'd made it through surgery, but he'd been in a coma ever since. The doctors weren't quite sure why...there didn't appear to be a medical cause.

You visited Elliot every single day, sometimes spending hours at his bedside talking to him. If there was even the slightest chance he could hear you, it was worth it.

That first night in the hospital had changed a lot of things for you, and it made you realize you couldn't keep pretending anymore. You broke things off with Tony, unable to lead him on any longer. He was surprisingly understanding about it, despite the obvious hurt.

The rest of the squad would stop by periodically to check in on Elliot and to see how you were holding up. You'd come back to work right away, but you'd made yourself as scarce as possible. You weren't ready to face the possibility that Elliot may never wake up, even if your coworkers were.

It was week three of Elliot's coma when you were called to testify in court for an SVU case. It wasn't a case you wanted to relive, but you'd played a vital roll in identifying the offender and your testimony was crucial.

You'd testified for a day and a half before you were finally released from court. Having done your duty, you pulled out your phone to check your messages. You were surprised to see several missed calls--all from Olivia.

Your heart clenched in your chest and terror froze your body in place. You weren't sure you wanted to listen to the message she'd left...you wanted to live in this moment just a while longer. In this moment, in this world, Elliot was still alive, but if you listened to that voicemail, that world might shatter.

You forced your body to move, making your way to a more secluded part of the courthouse before taking a deep breath and pressing 'play' on the voicemail.

"I know you're in court, but I wanted to make sure you heard this as soon as you finished up. We're all at the hospital--Elliot's awake!"

You didn't listen to the rest of the message--nothing else mattered. All you heard was "Elliot's awake!" and you were already running towards the exit. You ran at top speed all the way out of the building and to your car, pushing past anyone who got in the way.

When you reached your car, you jumped in the driver's seat and took off, ignoring almost every single traffic law in existence. All that mattered was getting to the hospital--all that mattered was Elliot.

After parking your car, you raced into the hospital and into the elevator, angrily pressing the button for the 3rd floor repeatedly. When the doors finally opened to the ICU, you sprinted from the elevator and down the hall towards Elliot's room.

You were breathless when you reached the doorway of his room, but you didn't care. Olivia, Munch, Fin, and Cragen all stood around the bed and they turned towards the door when they heard you.

You barely noticed any of them. Your focus was entirely on the man sitting up in bed, his bright blue eyes locked on yours. "Elliot," you breathed softly.

Every single person in that room felt the air shift when you entered. It didn't take a trained investigator to recognize the tension in the air. You didn't move from the doorway and your gaze didn't leave Elliot's face.

"Why don't we give you guys a moment alone?" Cragen suggested as he started to back out towards the door.

The other three followed their captain, Olivia shutting the door as she exited the room.

"Hey," Elliot murmured once the two of you were alone.

"Hi," you said softly, voice catching slightly as your emotions washed over you.

"Come here," he coaxed.

You crossed the room, stopping when you reached the side of his bed.

The two of you stared at each other in silence, emotions threatening to overwhelm both of you. It felt like everything inside you bubbled up all at once and you gasped, "I'm sorry."

Elliot spoke his apology at the exact same time. "I'm sorry."

You both let out a breathy laugh, some of the tension easing from your bodies.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Elliot asked.

"I shouldn't have ever questioned our friendship. It was cruel."

He shook his head. "If anyone was cruel, it was me. Frankly, I deserved way worse than what you said. I didn't mean a word of it, (Y/N), not a single word."

"I know--" you began.

"Let me finish," he cut in insistently. You fell silent, allowing him to continue. "I shouldn't have called you a slut. I shouldn't have judged your relationship--it wasn't my place. I was upset and I took it out on you...it wasn't fair and I'm sorry. You deserve better."

"I appreciate that," you said quietly. "But why did you say it? You're never cruel to me...ever."

The pain in your voice nearly broke his heart in two. "I was mad at you," he mumbled. "It's stupid and it doesn't matter 'cause you're with Tony anyway and you're happy and I should be happy toorightbecauseyou'remybestfriend--"

You grabbed his arm to bring his attention back to you and cut off his ramble. "You can breathe now," you teased you lightly.

He chuckled. "Sorry."

"Don't be. I think it's cute when you ramble like that."

He rolled his eyes. "Great. I'm cute."

You grinned. "Very cute," you said in a teasing tone. As you looked at him, your smile slipped and a sad expression slid into place. "I thought I was going to lose you," you whispered.

He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. "I'm harder to get rid of than that."

Tears filled your eyes, despite your attempt to smile. "What happened, Elliot?"

"They didn't tell you?"

"I know the official story, but I wanna hear it from you."

"I needed to blow off some steam, so I went to the bar for a couple drinks. Some guy got into an argument, pulled out a gun, and started shooting...so I shot back."

Your eyes fluttered closed. "You could have been killed."

"But I wasn't."

"But you could have been!" you said loudly. "Why the hell did you go to that bar alone? Why didn't you just stay home? You could have called someone to go with you! You could of--"

"(Y/N)," Elliot cut in gently. "I'm okay."

You realized you'd been rambling and you inhaled deeply to catch your breath. "I was so scared," you whispered. "When I woke up and Olivia told me what had happened...it felt like my world was falling apart. All I wanted was to see you, but you were still in surgery. Even when you finally made it to recovery, they wouldn't let me see you because they wanted to keep me for observation overnight."

"Wait, what? Who wanted to keep you for observation?" he asked, confused.

"The hospital," you answered. "I got here about 5 minutes after you."

"What?" His eyes scanned over your body, checking for wounds or signs of injuries. "Why? What happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you assured him gently. "It was just a panic attack."

He looked even more confused. "A panic attack?"

"It was intense," you admitted. "I passed out and Tony called 911. I didn't know what happened to you until I woke up in the hospital and listened to my voicemails from Olivia."

"I thought you usually knew when a panic attack was coming on."

"This one was weird. It hit me suddenly and literally brought me to my knees." You paused. "Anyway, I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Elliot admitted. "My chest feels like an elephant is sitting on it."

"Do you need pain meds? I can get the nurse--" you turned to call for the nurse, but he grabbed your arm to stop you.

"No, please--don't go."

You turned back to him. "I'm not going anywhere, but if you're in pain, the nurse can help."

He shook his head. "The meds make me sleep. I don't wanna sleep."

"Alright, but if the pain becomes unbearable, please tell me."

"I will," he promised. "I just want to talk to you for a while longer."

You smiled. "I can't say no to that."

For the next several minutes, you helped Elliot get caught up on everything that had happened in the last three weeks, leaving out a few key things about changes in your life until the end.

"I, uhh--I broke up with Tony," you mumbled quickly.

Elliot's eyes widened and you swore his face lit up before he tried to hide it. "Oh? I'm sorry, (Y/N/N). I know you really liked him."

You shrugged. "He's a good man and he'll make a great husband for someone, just not me."

"So...why'd you break up with him?"

"He deserved to be with someone who loved him the way he loved me and I knew I'd never be able to."

"Why not?" Fuck subtlety, he thought to himself.

You laughed breathily. "Good lord you're full of questions."

"That's not an answer."

You shot him a look of annoyance, but he knew you weren't actually upset. You were clearly trying to decide how to answer his question...and how much information you really wanted to give him.

"You can't love more than one person at the same time. At least not fully."

He raised his eyebrows. "Who do you love?"

"Elliot," you groaned softly. "Why does it matter?"

"I want to know." I need to know.

You sighed heavily. "How long have we known each other?"

He was clearly confused by your question, but he answered it anyway. "Eight years?"

You nodded. "And you were married for most of it, right?"

"As far as I'm aware, yes," he said in boorish tone.

"Six years, Elliot. Six whole years of my life," you said softly.

"What do you mean?"

You bit your lip and stared at the blanket covering his chest, unable to look at his face as you answered his question. "That's how long I've loved you," you whispered.

He'd waited two very long years to hear you say those words, but he'd never actually imagined you would ever say them. He was so stunned by your admission that he found himself rendered mute.

The seconds ticked by and you started to feel incredibly foolish and embarrassed. "Please say something," you begged.

He realized he'd been silent for too long and he rushed to say the words that had lived in his heart for so long. "I don't really know when I fell in love with you, (Y/N), but I'll never forget the moment I realized I loved you, and I don't think I'll ever be able to stop loving you."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor as your eyes shot up to meet his. You'd never dreamed he'd feel the same...at least not until three weeks ago. Perhaps Olivia was right after all--perhaps you really were connected in a deeper way. "El..."

"You don't have to say anything," he whispered.

"I love you," you said simply.

His chest ached from more than just the gun shot wounds. "I love you too."

You let out an awkward chuckle. "So what do we do now?"

"Right now?" he asked. "Well right now, you're going to kiss me because I can't really move."

You laughed warmly before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to his warm lips. The moment your lips connected, it just felt right. Everything about him felt right.

"As much as I'd love to kiss you until one or both of us passes out from lack of oxygen, I think I might need those painkillers instead," he said softly, finally letting the pain creep into his voice.

You nearly smacked him. "How long have you been in this much pain?"

"Doesn't matter. This was more than worth it."

You glared at him, but the glare quickly softened to an affectionate expression of concern. "I'll get the nurse."

You returned moments later with the nurse in tow. She gave Elliot a shot of morphine to dull his pain. It didn't take long for him to drift back off to sleep.

You settled into a chair beside his bed, content to stay beside him for as long as the hospital staff would let you.

**********

Four days later, Elliot was finally released from the hospital. You insisted he come to your place because there was absolutely no way you were going to let him be alone yet. Much to your surprise, he didn't argue, if anything he seemed glad for your insistence.

"At least I don't have to give you a tour," you said with a smile as you held the door open for Elliot.

"I've only been here 100 times," he teased.

You closed the door behind him and watched as he moved slowly towards the couch. You knew he was still in pain, though he likely wouldn't admit it.

"Do you need anything?" you asked tentatively as he sunk down onto the couch with a muffled groan.

"Nah, I'm fine."

You knew better than to argue with him. "How 'bout we order Chinese for an early dinner? I don't really feel like cooking."

"God, yes. That sounds amazing."

"Hospital food that bad?" you teased.

"Worse."

You laughed and went to the kitchen to grab the number for your favorite take out place. You ordered enough food to feed a small army before settling onto the couch beside Elliot.

"Okay, so here's the options: we can watch TV, we can sit in silence and awkwardly stare at the wall, or we can talk."

"I vote for the awkward staring."

You laughed. "TV it is."

You turned the TV on, but nothing seemed particularly interesting. Eventually you settled on some mindless drama.

You pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it across your lap. "Do you need one?"

"I'm good."

A few quiet moments went by before Elliot cleared his throat. You looked over at him, but he didn't say anything. You turned back to face the TV, but he started shifting beside you, as if he was restless.

"El?"

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

He shook his head. "Not really. It's just--well it's just that you're kinda far away."

You raised an eyebrow as you regarded him. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"Well, I wanna hold you and I don't really give a damn if it hurts me."

You offered him a small smile. "I'll be gentle."

You moved closer to him and laid your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close, wincing slightly as he shifted. Once you'd both gotten comfortable, your focus went back to the TV.

About 20 minutes later, the buzzer for the door went off and you jumped up to answer it. You let the delivery guy in the main doors and waited for him to reach your apartment.

"Do you always let the delivery guy in?" Elliot asked.

"Yeah."

"It's not safe, (Y/N)."

A knock at your door alerted you to the presence of your dinner. You opened the door, took the food, and paid before shutting the door behind him.

"I've never had any issues," you commented.

"We know plenty of people who have," Elliot said softly.

You glanced over at him and sighed. "El, I've been living alone for most of my adult life. I'm painfully aware of the dangers of being a single female in this city, and I'm always careful."

He nodded, but he didn't look like he really wanted to let it drop.

You walked back into the living room and started laying out the takeout boxes on the coffee table. "Dinner is served."

He inhaled deeply. "Damn that smells good."

"Thank you. I slaved away in the kitchen for hours to make it for you."

He laughed warmly. You saw the look of pain cross his face, the laughter clearly aggravating his wounds.

"At least take a couple Tylenol," you begged.

He sighed. "Will it make you feel better?"

"Yes."

"Fine. I'll take a couple."

The two of you had managed to eat a large portion of the food you'd ordered and you'd gotten Elliot to take some pain medication. All in all, you felt very successful.

The two of you were curled up on the couch watching a movie. Your head was in Elliot's lap, a blanket covering your body, and his arm draped across your torso.

At some point, his hand began to play with your hair and gently trace meaningless designs against your skin. The motion relaxed you and you sighed contentedly. Your eyes drifted closed and you knew you should get up go to bed, but you were simply too warm and comfortable to get up.

Next thing you knew, Elliot was gently shaking you awake. "Sweetheart? It's late. You should go to bed."

You let out a little groan. "But I'm so warm."

He chuckled. "You'll be nice and warm in your bed too. Come on," he coaxed.

You grumbled softly as you sat up. You dragged your weary body off the couch and started to walk back towards your bedroom. When you realized Elliot wasn't following you, you turned around. "Coming?"

"Oh, I--uh...I can sleep on the couch, ummm--if you want."

"We're adults, Elliot. We can share a bed."

"Thank god," he said as he slowly made his way towards you. "Your couch isn't comfortable to sleep on."

"Hey! You've never complained before."

"That's because sleeping in your bed was never an option before."

"I suppose you have a point."

He followed you into your room and chuckled softly as you crawled directly into bed, not even bothering to change into your pajamas. He walked to the other side of the bed and stood there for a moment, clearly unsure of what to do.

"You okay?" you asked.

"I, uhh, I normally wear a lot less clothing when I sleep."

"Oh," you mumbled with a blush. "Umm, you can get comfortable. I don't mind."

"I'll keep some stuff on for modesty," he teased lightly. "I just gotta lose the sweatpants or I'm gonna sweat to death in the middle of the night."

You laughed. "We wouldn't want that."

He quickly shed his pants before crawling into the bed beside you. "Shit," he said with a sigh. "You've been holding out on me."

"Huh?"

"This bed is 1,000 times more comfortable than the couch."

You laughed and very lightly smacked his arm. "You're the worst. You're lucky I let you share in this great comfort."

He grinned. "I feel very lucky. I'd even go so far as to say I feel honored."

You blushed. "Oh hush. Go to sleep, you dork. I'll see you in the morning."

You turned off the bedside lamp and settled back into the bed.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

"Goodnight, Elliot."

**********

For the next couple weeks, Elliot was on desk duty at work, which meant he had much more time to spend with you. On slow days, he would come sit in your office and chat with you for hours until someone (usually Cragen or Olivia) came looking for him.

Even though he was more than capable of living alone again, Elliot was still crashing at your house. You'd insisted at first, but it had become a comfortable routine that neither of you were quite ready to break.

The rest of the squad started to notice the change in your relationship too. Elliot was much more affectionate towards you, both physically and verbally. He'd use terms of endearment as often as possible and he was always within arms' reach of you.

The shift in dynamics really became obvious when you and Elliot continued to arrive together to work in the morning after the doctors had cleared him for duty.

"Okay, I'm tired of dancing around this shit," Fin spoke up when you and Elliot walked in the door together.

"Dancing around what?" Olivia asked.

"That," he responded, pointing at you two.

"What about us?" Elliot asked.

"Are you still living with (Y/N)?"

"Yeah," he answered with a shrug.

"So are you dating?" Fin probed.

Elliot shrugged off his jacket and plopped down in his desk chair. "Yeah."

Three surprised voices started peppering you with questions. "Since when?" "Why didn't you tell us?" "How long has this been going on?"

"Guys!" you yelled as you threw up your hands. You were surprised that Elliot had admitted to the relationship so freely. You hadn't discussed keeping it a secret or anything like that, but you also hadn't discussed if and when you were going to tell everyone. "Can you at least wait until I put my bag down before you verbally assault me?"

The questions and comments continued, but were now aimed at Elliot as you made a beeline to your office to drop off your bag and coat.

Before you could make it back to the squad room, there was a gentle knock on the doorframe. "Got a second?"

You turned around at the sound of Cragen's voice. "Sure," you answered as you leaned back against your desk. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, I may have overheard the commotion in the squad room when you and Elliot got in."

"Oh."

"Were you planning on telling me?"

"Honestly, sir, we hadn't discussed it. We didn't even really discuss our relationship...it just sort of happened."

"Near-death experiences will do that to you."

You nodded. "It was rather eye-opening for both of us, I think."

"Not as much for the rest of us."

"What do you mean?"

Cragen smiled. "It doesn't take a good detective to see how much the two of you care about each other, even long before Elliot got shot."

You blushed. "I tried not to be obvious."

"I make it a point to know my people, (Y/N), and I pay attention."

"I hope our relationship isn't going to be an issue, sir."

He shook his head. "I'm not worried about the two of you one bit. You've always been professional and I don't think admitting you love each other out loud will change that."

"I appreciate that, sir. I know Elliot will too."

Cragen just offered you a simple smile before making his way back towards the squad room. You followed slowly behind him, allowing yourself time to steel yourself for the onslaught of questions.

Much to your surprise, the conversation had shifted to other topics, namely Munch's permanent bachelor status and Olivia's terrible choices in men.

You leaned against Elliot's desk and he looked up to smile at you.

"I see they've moved on."

"I put them in their place," he said with a smirk.

"Do I wanna know what that means?"

"Probably not."

You laughed. "You're probably right."

Elliot's next thought was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He answered it, listened for a few moments, then said "We'll be there in 15," before hanging up. "Liv, we've got a vic over at Bellevue."

She sighed and grabbed her coat. Elliot followed suit, but he paused to kiss you softly before following her out the door. "I'll see you later. Love you."

You smiled. "Love you too. Be safe."

"Always," he said with a wink.

You watched him walk out the door and you felt a pang in your chest. You'd always worried about him--about all of them--every time they went out on a call, but it felt different now. Knowing he loved you as much as you loved him made it so much harder to watch him leave knowing he might never come back.

Thankfully, he did come back, though he was not in a pleasant mood. He was snapping at every person who crossed his path and anyone who dared look at him sideways.

"It was the dad, Olivia," he was yelling when you came into the squad room. "I'm sure of it."

"Okay, Elliot, but we don't have any proof!" she yelled back.

"Hey," you cut in. "What's going on."

"Little girl is in the ICU because she'd been beaten pratically to death. The doctor said there was also evidence of prolonged sexual abuse," Elliot answered.

"That's terrible."

"Yeah, what's worse is the father did it," he said angrily.

"What proof do you have?" you asked.

"God, not you too."

"El, we can't just assume it's the father without some sort of evidence."

"My instincts and years of experience not enough for you?"

"It might be enough for me, but it's not enough for a court of law," you countered.

You could see the rage in his eyes and you knew exactly what he was thinking. You knew the statistics as well as anyone, so you knew it was likely that the child had been raped by a close family member. As a father himself, Elliot hated when a father was the cause of such trauma to a child. That hatred fulled his anger, which led to poor decision making.

"Why don't I talk to the father?" you suggested.

"I'm bringing him in tomorrow morning. I want first dibs," Elliot insisted.

"I think it's best if I talk to him first," you said gently, but firmly.

"Why?"

You sighed, not really wanting to answer him. "Because I'm not sure you can be objective, Elliot."

As you suspected, that only fueled his anger more. "Of course I can be objective! I'm objective! Why do you think--"

"You're angry," you said, cutting him off.

He paused. "Of course I'm angry!"

"I may not have children, but I understand where your anger is coming from, Elliot. The difference is you let your emotions guide you--you imagine yourself in that person's shoes and it fuels your rage." You sighed deeply. "For what it's worth, I trust your judgment. If you think he's guilty, I'm inclined to agree, but I want to talk to him first."

Your words seemed to calm him down. He hated seeing a child hurt, especially one that had been hurt repeatedly. He knew you were right--he was emotional and that tended to cloud his judgment. You, on the other hand, knew how to remain calm and rational, which tended to get you better results.

"You're right. You should interview him."

At that moment, Cragen stepped out of his office. "Emily Riley just passed away. The parents are on their way down to the station now."

"What happened?" Elliot asked.

"She threw a clot to her brain. It was likely caused by the beating she took."

"Why are the parents coming down here?" you asked.

"Mrs. Riley attacked Mr. Riley. She was screaming something about him doing this to Emily. Uniformed officers are bringing them down."

You turned to look at Elliot, who had a slightly surprised look on his face. "I think that means you were right, El."

"Maybe, just once, I'd like to be wrong."

When the Rileys arrived down at the station, Fin and Munch took Mrs. Riley to an interview room, while you took Mr. Riley to another room. Olivia joined you at your request, while Elliot and Cragen watched from the other side of the glass.

It didn't take you very long to get a full confession from Mr. Riley. He admitted to sexually assaulting his daughter for several years. It took a little longer for him to admit to beating her, but eventually he did. He told you and Olivia that he had to kill Emily because she threatened to tell her mother about what he'd done to her for years.

Once he admitted that, Elliot stormed into the room and yelled at him--screaming that he was a pervert and a monster. "You'll get the needle for this...and I'll be right there watching."

Elliot put handcuffs on him and took him to booking, with Olivia trailing behind. You met Cragen outside the interrogation room and he told you you'd done a good job.

"Honestly, I'd rather never have to do an interview like that again."

"But you're good at it, (Y/N)."

"Doesn't mean I like it."

"I don't think any of us really like it."

You offered him a sad smile before walking away, heading to your office to sit down and have a nice cry.

About 30 minutes later, Elliot found you in your office, eyes red from crying.

"Doll?" he asked. "You okay?"

You nodded. "I'm fine. I just...I hate doing those."

He came around the side of your desk and pulled you into him. "I know, baby. I don't like them either."

"That poor little girl. She never had a chance."

He squeezed you tighter. "At least he's going to prison for the rest of his life...thanks to you."

You looked up at him. "I can't take all the credit. Olivia was there too."

"You're the one who won him over. You got him to admit to everything he'd ever done to his daughter."

"At least this is done. I just wanna go home."

"Me too," he said as he stood up. "Get your coat and let's get out of here."

"I want a hot bath," you grumbled.

He chuckled lightly. "Hot bath, a glass of wine, and a good night's sleep next to your very handsome boyfriend, should do the trick."

You rolled your eyes as you threw on your jacket. "I'm taking you up on that."

"It's a guarantee," he said with a wink.

**********

It had been two months since Elliot had been shot. Two of the best months you'd had in a long time. Elliot felt the same. He loved spending time with you and just being around you made him feel so at peace. Just sitting next to you on the couch while you watched a movie made him happy. It was all the little moments that warmed his heart.

Tonight was special. It was the anniversary of the day Elliot realized he was in love with you. To you, it was an ordinary Tuesday, but to him, it was one of the most important days of his life.

He'd made dinner reservations for your favorite restaurant for that evening, but he wouldn't tell you anything else he was planning.

"Why tonight? What's the occasion?" you'd asked him that morning.

"Because I love you and I want to show you just how much," he'd answered.

You didn't believe there wasn't more to it, but you let the matter drop. By the time 5pm rolled around, you'd almost forgotten about your plans for that evening.

"Come on, babe, we gotta go," Elliot said as he popped his head into your office.

"Just let me finish this--"

"We've got reservations at 6:30, sweetheart."

You looked at your watch. "It's only 5:15."

"We have to get home and change first."

"Where are we going that I can't wear this?"

"It's a surprise! Now come on."

You laughed and gathered your belongings before following him out the door.

When you arrived home, you found that Elliot had already picked out exactly what both of you would be wearing that evening. He'd selected a beautiful dress for you and a well-tailored suit for himself.

Thirty minutes later, he was dragging you out the door, insisting he didn't want to be late.

When Elliot pulled up in front of the restaurant, your face lit up in surprise. "Elliot, you hate this place," you insisted.

He shrugged. "But it's your favorite."

"El..."

"Come on, beautiful." He hopped out of the car and quickly came around to your side to help you out. He dropped his keys in the valet's outstretched hand before guiding you to the door.

"You never do valet. You always say it's a waste of money," you whispered.

"Tonight is a special occasion," he countered. "Besides, you're worth it."

You blushed heavily as he held the door open for you and followed you inside. "Is that why you took me to one of the most expensive restaurants in Manhattan?" you murmured quietly.

"Mhmm," he hummed.

"Am I missing something here? What's the special occasion?"

Before he could respond, you were met by the maitre d'. "Good evening. Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes. Two for Stabler."

The man smiled at the two of you. "Right this way sir, ma'am."

You followed him to a nice secluded table in the far corner of the restaurant. It gave Elliot an excellent view of the entrance and it suited your preference for a quiet table.

A bottle of wine was immediately brought to your table and two cups poured. It was, of course, your favorite wine.

"Seriously, El...what's with all the fanciness?"

You chuckled. "Can't I treat my girl just because I want to?"

"You can, but I know you. You don't like fancy things."

"But you do."

"Sometimes," you conceited. "Especially when it comes to food."

He grinned. "You have very high expectations as it relates to food."

"You're not wrong."

A server seemed to appear out of nowhere to take your orders. You hadn't even begun to look at the menu, but you didn't need to. You knew exactly what you wanted. After the server left, you turned your attention back to Elliot.

"Are you going to tell me what's so special about today?"

He looked you in the eyes and for some reason, his expression made you feel emotional. "Two years ago today, I realized I was in love with you. This is the first time I've actually had the opportunity to celebrate that love."

Tears welled in your eyes and you gently fanned your face with your hand. "Come on, (Y/N), don't cry in public," you said lightly to yourself.

Elliot laughed warmly and reached across the table to take your hand. The man wasn't big into romantic gestures, but he'd made an effort for you and that meant everything to you.

"This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"You need to meet better people then," he said with a smile.

"It wouldn't have the same meaning coming from someone else."

It was his turn to blush. "You deserve to know how much you mean to me. I want to make sure you never forget it."

"I love you, Elliot," you said softly.

"Not as much as I love you."

The evening was extremely beautiful. Delicious food, incredible company...who could ask for a better night?

When you made it back home, you immediately slipped off your shoes and dropped onto the bed. "Who invented heels and can I kill them?" you grumbled.

Elliot laughed as he tugged off his tie. "I'm 80% certain murder is illegal. Besides, they make your ass look incredible."

You laughed. "You're not wrong, but only 80%?" You sat up and watched him as he continued to remove his shirt. Your eyes followed his hands as he unbuttoned his shirt--mouth watering slightly at the teasing bit of his form you could see.

Ordinarily you'd be embarrassed by how blatantly you were staring, but it had been a long time since you'd felt the touch of a man and your body suddenly lit up.

Elliot was still chattering on about something until he looked in your direction and fell silent. The look on your face was hungry--possessive even--and it sent a shock wave of desire through his body.

"Baby?" he asked tentatively.

"Come here," you responded, voice low and husky.

Even if he'd been blind and deaf, he still would have been able to feel the desire oozing from every pore in your body. It wrapped around him, enveloping every part of him, pulling him towards you.

He stopped at the edge of the bed, eyes slowly tracing over your body, waiting for you to give him permission to touch you.

"Help me up," you purred.

He grabbed your hands and pulled you to your feet. "Turn around," he said softly.

You did as he asked, exposing the zipper of your dress to him. You felt his fingers slide slowly up your spine before grasping the zipper and pulling it down at an agonizingly slow pace to just above the curve of your butt.

His lips brushed against the exposed skin of your shoulder as he began to remove your dress. He could feel your heart racing, the blood pumping through your arteries as he kissed your neck.

You gasped softly as his teeth grazed your pulse point, sending shivers through your body. His hands pushed your dress the rest of the way down, letting it pool at your feet.

You felt his hands caress you, sliding around your midsection and pulling you back against him. The way he touched you only made you want him more--the slow pace he'd set driving you crazy.

As if he sensed your need for more, his left hand began to slowly glide up your torso towards your breasts. He slid his hand across one breast and then the other, giving each one a gentle squeeze as he did so.

Your body was flush against his and you could feel his arousal pressing into your back. The lack of skin-to-skin contact was making you desperate. You needed to feel him--all of him.

You turned your head to look up at his face, but you were surprised by his heavy-lidded expression. You'd never seen him look like that and it did something to you.

Your lips parted slightly as you gazed at him and he found it impossible to resist. He leaned down to press his lips against yours, earning a soft sigh from you. You turned around so your chest was pressed against his, and your arms wound around his neck.

His shirt was already unbuttoned, so all you had to do was push it back off his shoulders and let him tug it the rest of the way off. You then let your hands wander under the hem of his undershirt, palms flattening against his taunt abs.

He knew what you wanted, so he pulled back just long enough to pull his shirt off over his head. He leaned back in to kiss you, but you pulled back slightly, hand pressed against his chest to keep him in place.

He would have been hurt by the motion if he'd missed the look on your face. Instead, he felt his chest swell with pride as you eyed him like he was the god, Adonis.

"See something you like?" he teased.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his. "I see a whole lot I like."

He grinned and pulled you back in for another searing kiss. You swore that every time he touched you, it was like your body was on fire--each touch increasing the intensity of the burning. But it wasn't painful...it was an incredible feeling and you wanted more.

Elliot's hands made their way to your back, and he deftly unclasped your bra with practiced hands. You let the bra slide down your arms, exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes.

He cupped them, lifting them to his mouth as he lowered his head to taste your skin. You let out a moan of pleasure as he nipped and sucked, paying each breast and each nipple its dues.

Your fingers began to claw at his belt, desperately trying to free him from the confines of his pants. Elliot chuckled softly at both your desperation and your frustration at not being able to undo his belt.

He pulled back and nodded his head towards the bed. "Lie down, baby."

You did as he asked, eyes never leaving him. He quickly undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He was slow to remove them, clearly enjoying the tortured expression on your face.

Your breathing was labored, despite the fact that you weren't doing a damn thing. You could feel your arousal pooling in your panties and you knew you were seconds away from completely losing it.

"How 'bout I just remove these too while I'm at it?" Elliot asked as he tugged his boxer shorts down his legs. When he stood up straight, you got your first view of his erection and you felt your pussy clench as a little gasp escaped your mouth.

He was thick and long--larger than you were used to, but not so big that it scared you. Your mouth watered slightly, the mere thought of feeling his weight on your tongue a massive turn on.

You quickly pulled yourself off the bed, cutting off Elliot's question before he could even speak as you dropped to your knees in front of him.

His eyes widened slightly as he gazed down at you. You looked up at him with a doe-eyed expression that nearly buckled his knees. He watched as you tentatively placed your hands on his thighs, eyes flicking up to his, checking to make sure it was okay.

He reached out and ran his fingers through your hair, letting you know he was comfortable. You licked your lips as your hands moved up his thighs, nails gently scratching the skin.

Elliot's breathing was already heavy and he knew he was going to have a hard time controlling his orgasm. It had been a long time for him too, after all.

You gripped his cock in your dominant hand, leaning towards him to take him into your mouth. You took as much of him as you could without gagging, eyes never leaving his face.

"Fuck," he whispered as he looked down at you.

The single curse word sounded like praise to you, so you ran with it. You wasted no time--you set a quick, intense pace, and he was loving it.

His fingers were tangled in your hair and a string of moans, heavy pants, and curses slipped from his mouth. He watched you as much as he could, but his head would roll back involuntarily as he reacted to the pleasure.

"You're doing so well, baby--feels amazing."

You moaned softly around his cock in response. The vibrations mixed with the warm, wet heaven of your mouth nearly made him cum. You felt the way his body tensed and knew he was close, so you sped up your movements, paying special attention to his sensitive head.

Elliot had been determined not to cum yet, but he was struggling to hold himself back. It just felt so damn good. "Baby, I--I'm close."

You were well aware and you wanted to taste him so badly--so you did the only logical thing...you looked up at him as you sucked, eyes filled with desire.

Within seconds, Elliot filled your throat with his cum--orgasm slamming into him like a freight train. As he started to come down from his high, he realized his grip on your hair was way too tight and he let go of you instantly.

"Sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?" he asked breathlessly.

You smiled up at him and licked your lips, making sure to get the last of his cum into your mouth. "Not at all, El. I loved every minute of it."

He relaxed and let out a relieved sigh. "Well so did I...you were phenomenal, (Y/N/N)."

He helped you up and pulled you against him so he could kiss you--not giving a damn that he could taste himself on your tongue.

"Can you lie down for me, baby? I'd like to repay the favor."

"You don't have to," you assured him as you settled onto the bed.

He looked at you in confusion. "You say it like it's some sort of chore."

You shrugged. "Not all men reciprocate."

"What kind of heathens have you been dating?"

You laughed. "Well...none of them were you."

"See, there's your problem," he teased.

He climbed onto the bed with you, hovering over your body, eyes scanning your face as if he was memorizing it.

"Have I told you how beautiful you are?" he murmured.

"Once or twice," you said, cheeks blushing slightly.

"Hmm," he hummed. "I've gotta tell you more often. No one compares."

Now your cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "Elliot..."

He suddenly sat up. "You know what, babe? I've got a much better idea." He flopped down onto his back. "Sit on my face."

"Say what?"

He turned his head to look at you. "Sit on my face," he said again.

"I...umm. That sounds dangerous."

He cocked an eyebrow. "It's not dangerous, it's sexy as hell."

You sat up and turned to face him. "Are you sure? I mean...couldn't I smother you?"

He laughed. "Absolutely not." His expression sobered suddenly. "Are you telling me no guy has ever asked you to sit on their face?"

You shook your head, embarrassment creeping into your face.

He sat back up and reached for you. "We don't have to do anything you don't want, but I promise you it's worth it--for both of us."

"Are you sure?" you asked again.

"I'm absolutely positive, babe."

He looked and sounded so confident--and to be honest, you'd always wanted to try it--so you nodded your agreement.

You quickly pulled your panties off before climbing on top of him. You straddled his chest--a slightly worried expression on your face.

"I promise you, you're not gonna hurt me," he reassured you. "Besides, I'm strong enough to throw you off me if I had to."

His tone was light and teasing, which made you feel better. Plus, you knew it was true--he really could throw you around if he wanted to.

You took a deep breath and moved your body so your pussy was directly over his face. You lowered yourself slightly, but you didn't actually sit on him.

He sighed in annoyance. "Did I ask you to hover over my face, baby?"

"No," you mumbled.

"What did I ask?"

"You asked me to sit."

"Mhmm...so sit."

You lowered yourself a little more, but you didn't put your full weight on him. You didn't think he would notice, but you were completely wrong.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs and tugged you down so you were completely flush against him. He made the happiest noise you'd ever heard before diving into the delicious feast above him.

You nearly jumped off of him as he began to eat you out--the sensations so intense, it startled you. But holy fucking shit did it feel incredible.

The sounds coming from your mouth were loud enough to wake your neighbors. You grasped the headboard for support as you moaned and begged and chanted his name like a prayer.

All-the-while, Elliot was expertly attacking your pussy, sending wave after wave of unimaginable pleasure through your body. He groaned into you as he feasted, your cries of pleasure spurring him on.

He felt your nails rake against his scalp and your thighs began to shake. He tightened his grip on you as he continued his ministrations.

"Elliot--fuck," you gasped. "I'm so close."

"I know," he said into your pussy, knowing full well you couldn't hear him. He sped up his assault on your clit and seconds later your orgasm washed over you--screams of his name echoing in the small room.

He continued lapping up the mess you'd made, arms still wound tightly around your legs, keeping you against his mouth.

You started to squirm, but he didn't let go. "El--sensitive."

After a couple more licks, he finally released you and you practically fell off of him and onto the bed. Your legs shivered as aftershocks worked their way through your body.

Elliot was happily licking his lips as he watched you, expression smug. You looked almost delirious with pleasure and it brought him great pride.

"That...was...incredible," you said between breaths.

He grinned as he sat up. "I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did." He wiped the rest of your slick from his face with a satisfied smirk.

You looked over at him and laughed breathlessly. He just looked so pleased with himself that you couldn't help but find it funny.

"Kiss me," you pleaded softly.

He was never one to deny you, so he pulled himself up and climbed onto your body, hovering over you once again. He leaned down and gently pressed his lips against yours, earning a contented sigh from your lips.

You cupped the back of his neck and pulled him closer to you as you deepened the kiss. He shifted slightly to get more comfortable and you could feel his arousal press against your thigh. You smiled against his lips, appreciating that he was willing and able to keep going.

Elliot felt your lips curve into a smile and he pulled away so he could look at you. "Something funny, doll?"

You shook your head. "Nothing's funny. I'm just...pleased."

He chuckled and kissed your neck. "Pleased, eh?" He pressed another kiss against your skin. "About what?"

"You," you said breathlessly--his kisses quite clearly having the desired effect on you.

He smiled as he nipped at your collar bone. "I'll take the compliment."

You lifted your hips, brushing against his cock in search of friction. He hissed softly, the feeling too much and not enough at the same time.

Elliot grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him so he could settle more comfortably between your legs. He went back to kissing you, his hands gently skimming over your skin, his cock pressed against your entrance.

You ran your fingers through his short hair and whined softly.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Need you."

"I'm right here." His teasing tone annoyed you slightly--he knew exactly what you wanted.

"Elliot," you whined.

He grinned. "Come on pretty girl, just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

"I want you."

He nipped at your jaw. "Come on...you can do better than that."

You whined again, squirming beneath him, in dire need of his touch. "I wanna feel you inside of me, Elliot--please," you begged.

He growled softly, hearing you beg for him like that made him almost feral.

To your surprise, he started to pull away from you. "El?"

"Need a damn condom."

"I'm on birth control," you said quickly.

"You sure, babe? We know this little swimmers are potent."

You laughed. "I'm sure. Come here."

He lowered himself back on top of you and lined his cock up with your entrance. His eyes locked onto yours, searching for any sign of discomfort. Seeing none, he started to push into you slowly.

The stretch was both delicious and painful at the same time. Your nails dug into his shoulders and you winced slightly when he was about halfway in.

"Shit, am I hurting you?" His worried tone matched his facial expression.

"I'm fine," you assured him. "You're just...big."

He grinned wolfishly, pride pumping through his veins. He kept pushing forward until he completely bottomed out inside you, a deep groan escaping from his lips.

He gave you a few moments to adjust before he began to move. His speed was slow and languid, and his eyes never left yours. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and enjoying yourself as much as possible.

"More," you gasped out softly.

He sped up his movements, earning a series of moans from you. He shifted his body to get a better angle and you cried out in pleasure, nails scratching into his skin.

He knew better than to slow down or shift any farther. With each thrust, he brought you closer and closer to the edge--and the convulsing of your tight pussy mixed with the sounds coming from your mouth, pushed him towards the edge too.

"Please, please, please" you chanted.

"I've got you," he murmured.

Your nails dug even deeper into his skin, drawing blood as they raked down his back. You cried out in pleasure--a sound that closely resembled his name--as your orgasm hit you.

Elliot barely held on long enough to get in another thrust before he was filling you up with his seed, whispering your name like a prayer in your ear.

As the two of you came down from your highs, Elliot slowly pulled out of you. You shivered at the loss of contact and you could feel his cum leaking from your hole.

"I'll be right back, baby," he whispered as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You could hear him in the distance, but you were a little delirious from all the pleasure he'd just given you. When he came back, he scooped you up into his arms and carried you towards the bathroom.

You let out a little yelp when he lifted you--you were unaccustomed to being carried anywhere. "What--?"

"Hot bath?"

You smiled up at him. He didn't really strike you as an aftercare kind of man, but you could tell he really cared. He wanted to take care of you.

You nodded and he very gently lowered you down into the tub, which was still filling with hot water.

"Temperature okay?"

"It's perfect," you said with a sigh as you leaned back. "Join me."

"In a minute, babe."

He left the room and came back a few moments later with a lighter and a couple candles. He quickly lit them and turned off the light, so the room was bathed in a soft glow. It was surprisingly romantic.

You leaned forward so he could slide into the tub behind you. As soon as he was comfortable, he grabbed you and pulled you back against him. He kissed the top of your head and you sighed happily.

"I love you," he whispered into your hair. "So damn much."

"I love you too, Elliot."

The two of you stayed in the bath until the water began to cool. Elliot helped you dry off and slip on your nightgown before guiding you back to the bed.

He pulled on a pair of boxers and slid beneath the covers beside you. He reached out and put his arm around you, pulling you to him so your back was flush to his chest.

"Sleep well, my love," he whispered.

You could tell she was exhausted, no matter how well Captain Olivia Benson thought she did at hiding it. You could tell her shoulders were knotted and that under her stern front that she was thankful it was the weekend. She was ready to pack up and head home, really, it’s all she wanted after a week like this.

Her eyes dropped slightly, a small flicker of vulnerability peeking through the armor she wore. You offered her a soft smile, just to let her know you could hear the unspoken words. In return she nods ever so lightly before she turns her attention back to the paperwork in front of her.

By now, most of the team had already packed up and clocked out. Bruno of course was staying back to smash out whatever he could on his pile of paperwork.

You finished up signing off on the last report before pushing back from your desk. Your muscles ached slightly from the long periods of being hunched over files, the knot in your neck begged for relief. Your eyes glanced over at Olivia’s office one last time, she’d now thrown her long hair into a messy bun, something she usually does when she needs to focus better.

The relationship between you and Olivia wasn’t exactly a secret. Of course, the team knew but the two of you were nothing more than professional when at work. When Olivia looked up, feeling your gaze on her, she knew you were headed home. Her lips tugged a small smile as if to say she’d see you later.

You gathered up your things and grabbed your coat before giving Bruno who barely looked up from his laptop a quick wave. The drive home was a blur of traffic lights and dark alleyways. By the time you pulled into the underground parking complex of Olivia’s apartment building, and you turned the engine off, the weight of the week started to feel a little bit lighter. You unlocked the door and kicked your shoes off almost instantly. The soft glow from the lamp that Olivia left on this morning lit the small hallway where you’d hang your coat by the door. The clock on the wall ticked steadily as if marking the minutes until Olivia would be home.

It wasn’t long, fifteen minutes exactly before you heard the jiggle of keys in the front door as you finished a glass of water. Olivia’s silhouette framed by the soft glow of the lamp in the hallway, she was drained. Her deep brown eyes heavy and her messy bun slightly messier than when you last saw her only half an hour ago. She dropped her bag by the door near the shoe rack and locked the door behind her.

You leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching as she slowly approached you. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around your waist, gently pulling you closer. “Thank god this week is over” you murmur, your voice low. “Yeah” she softly replied as you stood up straight in her arms. You lean forward just a little, pressing a kiss on her left cheek. “How about we get you into something a little more comfortable?” You said before kissing her softly.

Olivia didn’t resist as you took her hand gently and guided her towards her bedroom. The short hall to her room felt shorter than usual, her fingers intertwined with yours as you pushed the bedroom door open with your free hand. Olivia flicked the light on and let out a quiet sigh when her eyes landed on her king-sized bed. You released her hand and turned to her, your hands already working at the buttons on her blouse. The fabric parted and revealed her simple black bra. Her skin was warm as you gently peeled the shirt off her shoulders.

She shrugged out of it fully, letting the blouse drop to her carpet with a soft whisper. Your eyes traced the curve of her collarbone and down to the swell of her breast. You stepped slightly closer, your fingers gently hooking onto the straps of her bra and sliding them down her arms, “you carry too much” you whispered, your eyes now looking into hers. “Let me take care of you” you added.

Olivia’s breath came a little quicker, her exhaustion melting into something more insistent.

“God, you look beautiful” you murmured, your palms gently cupping her breasts before your thumbs kindly brushed over her hardening nipples. Olivia inhaled sharply, her hands moving to your waist, tugging at the hem of your shirt. You knew it was a bit of a rare moment when Olivia would let you take the lead, so you allowed her this moment. Raising your arms, she pulled your shirt over your head. Her eyes darkened slightly with intent as she pressed her body against yours, her bare chest soft and still warm as she gently backed you towards the bed.

Her lips crashed onto yours in a kiss that was nothing more than heat and no hesitation. Your tongue tangled with hers as her hands roamed your back before you hit the edge of the mattress and sank down. Olivia broke the kiss to trail her lips along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering, “I think I can handle that”.

You smiled softly before flipping positions, straddling her waist, pinning her beneath you as a light chuckle escaped her lips. You began kissing down her neck, sucking marks into her warm skin all while your hands worked on unbuttoning and unzipping her pants. Olivia slightly lifted her hips, helping you drag the black pants down her legs along with her panties.

She was already glistening, her lips swollen from the short foreplay. You traced your hands up her tights, parting them wider ever so gently before pressing kisses along her inner thighs, teasing her sensitive skin until she squirmed.

“Please, baby” she breathed, her voice cracking just a little.

You couldn’t help the light smirk that tugged at your lips as you spread her folds with two fingers, exposing her pink and wet clit that peeked from its hood. You licked a slow stripe from her entrance to her clit, savoring the salty tang. A small moan escaped Olivia’s lips as her fingers began to thread through your hair.

“Fuck!” Olivia gasped as her free hand gripped the bed sheets. You began to circle your tongue around her clit with firm and deliberate strokes, she moaned louder with each stroke of your tongue, bucking her hips slightly to chase her high. She was desperate, you could tell. Every ounce of stress from this week fueled her need for you to make her scream, the way her thighs soon began to close around you only drove you to tease her a little more.

One hand slipped up her thigh until your fingers found her entrance. With one finger, you slowly slid inside her, only to pull out again just to see her squirm. “Darling, don’t tease me!” She whimpered.

You pulled back for a moment, smirking up at her. “Is this what you need, mama?” You teased, sliding your finger back inside her. Olivia gasped once more, “Fuck yes!”.

The slick sounds of her wetness soon mixed with her moans and curses as you slid the one finger in and out of her with ease. “More, baby! Please!” She begged between moans, throwing her head back harder against the softness of her pillow. God, she looked beautiful like this.

You added a second finger and scissored the two to stretch her, pumping in and out with a little more speed. Her thighs trembled as you lent forward to her clit, your lips latching on to the bud and sucking gently.

“Yes! Just like that, baby!! Don’t stop!!” She moaned. Her walls clenched around your fingers trying to pull you even deeper, you curled them stroking that special spot that really made her moans grow louder. Her back arched off the bed with YOUR name falling from her lips.

One hand found its way back to your hair; she pushed you a little deeper into her as you lapped at her cunt and your fingers pumped in and out of her even faster now. “M’ so close, love!” Olivia whimpered, encouraging you to fuck her a little faster, so you did. You glanced up at her, watching her face as her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth parted while more begging moans escaped her.

The sight of her like this made you clench around nothing as your tongue flattened against her clit, the pressure building as her thighs now closed more on either side of your head.

“YES! YES, YES, YES! THAT’S IT!!” She screamed as she finally came. Her back arching once more, her inner muscles convulsing in powerful spasms, gushing on your fingers as her orgasm tore through her.

You eased her down, slowing your fingers to gentle strokes until she collapsed against the mattress again and slowly, you withdrew your fingers. Olivia watched you through hooded eyes and flustered look as you brought your fingers to your lips, licking them clean as her chest heaved. She couldn’t help but pull up and kiss you, moaning softly at the taste of herself on your lips.

She melted back into the pillows, pulling you on top of her without breaking the kiss, sparking that switch of fire within her. “Mmm, now it’s your turn” she smirked against your soft lips.

Taglist: @noturlondonboy | @deathbylesbianwitches | @red1culous | @torihobby1226 | @filmedbyharkness | @undercuver | @dakotajohnsonsbiggestslut | @angelicbrats | @tobiaslut | @naominanuq | @writerspirit | @jorddddddddd | @tobiaslut | @immadowhateva | @yelldontwhisper | 

the bedroom was warm, a steady stream of light shining in through the curtains casting a golden glow to the otherwise dark room.

Elliot’s arm was drawn around your waist, holding you against his chest. it was nice, mornings like this wrapped up in each other, just the two of you. 

his fingers trailed up your stomach, absentminded. soft. wanting. 

the touch made your hips shift backwards against him, earning a throaty groan as your ass pressed against his half hard cock, the fabric of his boxers doing little to conceal his desire. 

“El..”

you trailed off, but he only pressed a kiss to your shoulder in response. 

whenever Elliot got in a mood like this, he only responded in two ways. silently, taking what he wanted. or he’d be vocal about it, talking you through what he wanted. 

this was the silent way. 

his touch moved across your front, down your chest and into your panties, his fingers finding your clit with ease. 

you gasped, arching into his touch as he started to draw figure eights onto your clit. his touch continued, pulling moans from your lips while his cock stirred to life. 

Elliot pressed another kiss to your shoulder, trailing kisses towards your neck before he grunted. his free hand pulled down your panties, before his hand helped move your leg—twisting you into the comfiest position. 

“Elliot please”

you breathed out, glancing back at him as he shoved down his boxers, his cock springing free and resting against your ass. 

the feeling of him made your cunt throb, already drooling from a mix of his touch and the feeling of him against you. 

“i’ve got you”

was the first thing he had said all morning, his fingers leaving your clit to wrap his heavy hand around his cock, using your slick to ease his strokes. 

he groaned into your shoulder, nudging himself at your entrance and slowly pushing in. 

you both moaned at the feeling, your cunt fluttering around him at the intrusion and his breath warm against your neck. 

Elliot gave you a minute before he started to roll his hips, languid thrusts that filled you just right. 

his hips rolled in slow deep thrusts, each ridge of his cock dragging along your walls just right that drew moan after moan from your mouth. 

nothing about it was rushed, it was just about the two of you, the pleasure you shared together. 

“feel so good”

he murmured into the crook of your neck, his hands still holding yours to keep you opened for him. 

your hand trailed a path down his forearm and to the apex of your thighs, copying his previous motions and circling your clit with a practiced precision, walls fluttering around him at the pleasure thrumming through your body. 

“so fucking wet too, sweetheart”

a moan bubbled up your throat, hips pushing back against him causing an equally desperate moan to fall from Elliot’s lips. 

his hips continued, their pace consistent even as your cunt spasmed around him—teetering on the edge. 

you were close, closer than you expected to be. Elliot always managed this, especially when it was lazy mornings between the two of you. he was always able to make you cum quicker than usual, you weren’t too sure what it was, but you weren’t complaining. 

not when he hit that one spot over and over, with an expert precision that had your vision whitening with pleasure. 

“close El”

you moaned out, face knitted together in pleasure as he angled his hips, the head of his cock kissing that one spot with more force. 

Elliot groaned, his lips brushing against your ear while his pace continued. his groans made your cunt clamp down around him, the pool of arousal in your belly ready to boil over. 

he knew you were there, his fingers replaced your own on your clit, drawing tight figure eights as you writhed against him. 

your climax was teetering on the edge, clinging on by a thin thread that was quickly snapping. his fingers on your clit redoubled their efforts, circling the bud with more force and sending you over the edge mid thrust of his hips. 

the moans falling from your lips were loud and lewd, cunt clamping down around him in greedy spasms, pulling him over the edge with you. 

his groans were muffled against your jaw, your eyes screwed shut as he spilled himself inside you with a harsh squeeze of your hips, tears of pleasure slowly streaming down your cheeks. 

“fuck baby”

he grunted, rutting against you as he emptied himself dry. 

Elliot stayed buried inside you for a minute, before he pulled out and rolled onto his back. he watched you curl into his side, a lust drunk look painted across your face despite your tears, before he leaned in to kiss you. 

the kiss was soft, but his words were softer while his free hand lifted to wipe away your tears with his thumb. 

“i’ve got you sweetheart, always got you”

You walked into the office gym at 5am, thinking there wouldn't be anyone else there. You hated working out, especially in front of other people. Normally, you used the gym in your apartment building, but it was under construction, so you decided to sneak into the office early.

You'd thrown on leggings and a slightly too small t-shirt, and you were tugging on the shirt uncomfortably as you walked into the gym. You just wanted to get on the treadmill for an hour, but your plans were interrupted when you heard soft grunts coming from across the room.

You froze, hoping whoever it was wouldn't notice you. You moved towards the treadmill quietly, using it as a shield so you could see who was in the room without them seeing you.

From your angle, all you could see was a man's legs on the weight bench across the room. He was laying down and preparing for another rep. When his arms came into view, you let out an involuntary gasp. The Marine Corps tattoo on his right arm was a dead giveaway...it was Elliot Stabler.

He racked the weight bar and sat up, eyes looking in your direction. You knew he couldn't see you, but he must have heard your gasp. Shit, you thought to yourself.

"Hello?" he called.

You decided it would be weird if you didn't respond, so you stepped out from behind the treadmill and gave him a little awkward wave. "Good morning."

He smiled warmly when you came into view. "Morning, (Y/N)."

You could feel his eyes on you, boring holes into your skin, and you tugged on your shirt again. You suddenly wished you'd worn something a little looser, but you hadn't expected to see anyone, least of all him.

"Since when do you come to the gym before dawn?" he asked as he stood up and started walking towards you.

"I--uh--I...normally I don't--umm, I use the gym at home. It's being renovated."

"I see." He stopped right in front of you, giving you an up close and personal view of his beautiful body. Every inch of him was toned, muscles flexing under his skin. "I kinda like having the company."

You let out an awkward chuckle. "I was just gonna...umm--use the treadmill?"

He smiled again and your heart nearly stopped in your chest. "Go for it, doll. You don't need my permission."

You grabbed onto the arm of the treadmill to keep you upright--the term of endearment making your knees buckle. "Yeah," you mumbled.

"Let me know if you need anything." With that, he walked back over to the weight rack to finish his reps.

You were about 5 minutes away from having a full blown heart attack, but it would be super awkward if you left the gym now. So you climbed onto the treadmill and started walking at a steady pace. You did your best to keep your eyes forward, but you could feel Elliot looking at you every time he sat up.

After several minutes, he stood up and came across the room towards you. "Mind if I--?" he asked, gesturing to the machine beside you.

"Oh--uhh, sure," you stammered.

He smiled and got onto the elliptical.

You'd been sucking in your stomach as much as possible since the moment he noticed you...it was restricting your ability to breathe properly, but you didn't care. Standing next to a man who looked that good made you feel incredibly uncomfortable, frumpy even.

"How you liking SVU so far?"

Fuck, now he's gonna ask me questions? I already can't breathe. "I like it, but it's not easy work."

He nodded. "No it's not, but it's rewarding."

"Mhmm," you hummed.

"You're the first crime analyst we've ever had on the squad."

"I know," you said quickly. "I hope I'm adding value."

"You add a lot of value, both to the work we do and to the general morale of the squad."

"Oh," you said in surprise. "I, uhh, I appreciate that."

He chuckled lightly. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you said tentatively.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"What?" you asked in genuine surprise. "Why would you think that?"

"Well...you don't make eye contact with me very often and you stutter a lot when you talk to me--like you're flustered."

"I promise, it's not because you make me uncomfortable." It's because every time I see you, I want you to rip my clothes off and bend me over your desk.

You could feel his eyes on you, almost like he was scanning you--trying to decide if you were being honest. You didn't dare turn your head, you'd either fall on your face or reveal the thoughts in your head.

"Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure," he said with a smile. "I like you, (Y/N)...I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

That tiny naive voice in the back of your mind squealed he likes me! but the more logical part of your brain ignored it. A man that looked like that was not interested in a woman who looked like you.

"I appreciate that," you mumbled. You'd only been on the treadmill for 40 minutes, but you decided that was more than enough. You wanted to get the hell outta there. You hit 'stop' on the machine and hopped off. "I'm gonna hit the shower. See you in the squad room."

"Okay. See you there."

20 minutes later, you were seated comfortably at your desk, going over some reports you needed to write.

You felt Elliot's presence before you saw him, and you did your best to act nonchalant. He walked up to the desk across from yours and leaned against it. He'd clearly showered and was now dressed in his usual slacks and a button down, sleeves rolled up to reveal his toned forearms and his tattoo.

"You smell really good," he commented. "Body wash or perfume?"

"Oh, uhh--maybe both?" It better be that damn perfume. It was expensive.

He smiled. "Well if it's the perfume, I'd recommend wearing it more often. It smells delicious." He shot you a wink before walking over to his own desk and sitting down.

You couldn't help but wonder if this man knew the effect he had on you and if that was why he was flirting with you. Was he even flirting? Hell, you had no idea. The hotter the man, the more awkward you became. You had a hell of a time reading them and it had messed you up in the past.

It's not that you had low self-esteem necessarily, it's just that you'd put on a fair amount of weight in the last couple years and it definitely affected your self-confidence. Hence why you'd started going to the gym every day...you wanted to get that young, happy, thinner version of you back.

As the day progressed, you forgot all about your encounter with Elliot that morning. It was a busy day and it flew by. Before you knew it, it was after 7pm and you were still curled up at your desk, typing away on your computer.

You heard a throat clear to your left and you turned to glare at whomever it was that dared to interrupt you. "Oh, Elliot!" you exclaimed in surprise. "I figured you'd gone home by now."

"I thought you would have too," he said with a shrug. "I'm actually just heading out now, but I wanted to see if you were hungry."

At that exact moment, your stomach let out a little grumble. You realized you'd worked straight through lunch and you were starving. "I could eat."

He raised an eyebrow. "You didn't eat lunch, so I'm betting you're starving."

He was paying that much attention? "Yeah, you're right. It's probably time to get the hell outta here anyway."

"My thoughts exactly. Come on, I'll take you home. We can get dinner on the way--my treat."

You normally took the subway, but it was after dark and the squad didn't like you walking home or riding the subway alone. "Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It's not a chore, (Y/N). We can stop anywhere you'd like."

You bit your lip as you thought about it. You really should turn him down, but if you'd learned anything in your time with SVU, it was that being a woman in New York was dangerous enough without walking alone at night.

"There's a little pizza shop by my apartment," you conceded.

He grinned. "How'd you know I was thinking pizza?"

You laughed. "You eat it all the time...you must think pizza is a vegetable."

He laughed. "It's delicious. Grab your coat."

You hurried to pack up, then you threw on your coat and followed him out to his car. It was a chilly night, but the sky was clear and the air was crisp.

Elliot made small talk on the way to the pizza place. You were thankful that he carried the majority of the conversation and you couldn't wait to have food to occupy your mouth with so you wouldn't sound like such an idiot.

"I don't think I've ever been here," he commented as he found a parking spot near the shop.

"It's the absolute best," you insisted enthusiastically.

He smiled at your animation. "This is the most excited I've ever seen you."

You blushed. "I like food."

"So do I...and I'm starving, so let's go in."

As soon as you walked in the door, you heard a thick Italian accent yell your name. "(Y/N)! Looking beautiful as ever."

You smiled at the older man, embracing him when he came around the counter for a hug. "You're too sweet, Gio."

After he released you from the bear hug, he turned to look at Elliot, clearly sizing him up. "Who is this?"

"This is Elliot. We work together," you said reassuringly. "Elliot, this is Giovanni Romano, owner and chef extraordinaire."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Elliot said as he extended his hand for a shake.

Gio looked him up and down, and apparently decided he liked him because he smiled really wide and said, "No handshakes! We hug here," before wrapping a surprised Elliot into a hug.

You laughed at the look on Elliot's face. Gio finally let him go and Elliot looked relieved, if not a little shocked.

"Maria!" Gio yelled towards the back. "La principessa is here with il innamorato."

You turned red as a tomato and prayed Elliot didn't speak Italian. "Gio!" you hissed.

"My principessa?" Maria yelled as she came out of the kitchen. She bustled over to where you were still standing by the door.

"She's Gio's wife," you whispered to Elliot a millisecond before she grabbed you in a tight hug.

She then turned her attention to Elliot. She nodded approvingly and turned to whisper to you, "Lui è bello."

You blushed again. "Sì," you mumbled back. "Now silenzio, per favore."

She smiled at you and gave your cheek an affectionate tap. "What can we get the two of you, amorino?"

You smiled. "Two of your best pies, Maria." You turned to Elliot, realizing he might not want you to order for him. "If that's okay with you."

He smiled. "I trust you."

"Two pies coming up!" Maria said with a smile. She grabbed Gio and practically dragged him towards the kitchen with her. You could hear her talking about Elliot and you in Italian and it made you laugh.

Elliot followed you to a table near the back of the small building. "So, uh...you come here often?"

You blushed. "Nearly every day when I was in school," you said honestly. "The food is delicious, cheap, and there's free WIFI. Plus, Gio and Maria have become like family to me."

"They seem really sweet."

You smiled fondly. "They're the best. I don't have any family of my own, but they both kinda took me under their wings...like an Aunt and Uncle."

"That's very kind of them."

Gio appeared with two waters, before he disappeared again with a wink in your direction.

"I didn't know you spoke Italian."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Gio and Maria taught me. I ended up minoring in Italian at NYU."

"So, uh...what did they say about me?"

"Hmmm?" you pretended not to know what he was talking about...you really didn't want to answer him.

"Come on, I know they were talking about me."

"Maria said you were handsome, that's all."

He raised his eyebrow. "Why don't I believe you?"

"She did!" you insisted.

"I don't think that's the only thing she said."

You blushed.

"You're blushing."

"It's warm in here."

"No, it's not. Just tell me what she said."

You bit your lip. "Do I have to?"

He laughed. "No, but I'd really like to know."

"Technically that's all Maria said. Gio, on the other hand...well, he called you my um...well in Italian it means 'lover', but you can think of it more like boyfriend, I guess? Or maybe more like sweetheart?" you rambled.

Elliot laughed heartily. He enjoyed watching you fumble for what to say. It was endearing and incredibly cute. "I hope you didn't correct them."

You nearly spit out your water. "What?"

"Well, if you're as close to them as you seem to be...then they would know if you were seeing someone right?"

You nodded.

"And their assumption that I'm your lover means you're not seeing anyone?"

You nodded again, clearly uncomfortable.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "Good." He picked up his water and took a long drink, eyes never leaving yours.

What the actual fuck is happening? "I'm confused."

He shrugged. "Let me put it this way, I'm honored they would think I'm your lover."

You choked on nothing but air. "Excuse me?"

He smiled again, wider than before. He leaned in closer to make sure no one but you could hear his next words. "I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about it."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor. You stared at him in shocked silence for what felt like an eternity.

Like a little Italian savior, Maria appeared beside the table with her famous focaccia.

You grabbed a piece of the delicious bread and took a massive bite, despite the fact that it was fresh from the oven. It burned your mouth, but you didn't care. You needed something to distract you from the words Elliot had just said and the way he was staring at you.

Maria gave you look that said slow down, but she didn't say it out loud. "The rest will be out soon, amorino."

Once Maria was out of ear shot, Elliot asked, "What does amorino mean?"

"Essentially 'little love'. It's a term of endearment," you answered, grateful for the change in topic.

Elliot steered the conversation in other directions for the rest of dinner. He asked you all sorts of questions about your life and answered several of your own. He didn't mention what he'd said earlier, and you were fine pretending it hadn't happened.

After dinner, Elliot insisted on paying the bill, even though Gio tried to comp it. You knew it made Elliot look respectable in Gio's eyes and for some reason, that made you proud.

"I'll pull the car up," Elliot told you before heading outside.

"He's lovely, principessa," Gio said softly.

"I know, but he's just a friend, Gio."

"Ahh, amorino, you are young! You cannot see," he insisted.

"Can't see what?"

"The way he looks at you, (Y/N/N)," Maria said gently as she joined the two of you.

"Like you hung the moon," Gio finished.

"You two are romantics," you said with a laugh.

"Perhaps, but we are old...we've lived. We both know what it means when a man looks at a woman the way Elliot looks at you," Maria assured you.

She wrapped you in a tight hug and Gio followed.

"Now go, principessa," Maria said with a smile. "He's waiting."

You turned to look out the door and sure enough, Elliot was standing on the sidewalk, leaning against the car, waiting for you to come outside.

You said your goodbyes and met Elliot out on the sidewalk. "Fancy meeting you here," you teased.

He smiled. "It's almost like I planned it that way."

You laughed and walked towards the now open passenger side door. Elliot helped you into the car and closed the door before going to his side and getting in.

During the short drive to your apartment, you watched Elliot out of the corner of your eye. You were looking for whatever it was that Gio and Maria insisted they saw. He was relaxed, more so than he ever was at work, and he seemed genuinely comfortable. But comfort and desire were two very different things.

Much sooner than you would have liked, Elliot pulled up in front of your building. This time of night, there wasn't much by way of street parking, but he managed to snag a spot a block away. "I'll walk you in."

"You don't have to," you assured him.

"It's after 9...there are pervs on the street."

You almost laughed, but you knew he was serious. His statement wasn't funny, so much as the way he said it. "Alright, come on."

He followed you to the front door of your building. You punched in the code and the door unlocked. As you pulled it open, you had a sudden burst of confidence.

"Would you like to come up?" you blurted.

You weren't sure who was more surprised, you or Elliot. He certainly recovered faster than you. "I'd love to."

You just nodded awkwardly and held the door for him to follow you in. The two of you took the stairs in silence, a silence that continued all the way to your door. "This is me," you mumbled.

You unlocked the door without looking at him and gestured for him to enter. You were thankful you'd cleaned the apartment the day before, so everything was neat and organized.

"It's a cute place," he commented.

"Thanks," you moved to the kitchen, needing something to do with your hands. "It's all I can afford. Do you--uh, do you want a drink?"

"Sure," he said warmly as he slipped his coat off and draped it over the back of the chair.

You poured him a drink and poured yourself a double. Lord knew you needed a little more liquid courage than he did. You were taking a risk--making a gamble you weren't sure would pay off.

You came into the living room and handed him his drink before sitting on the couch beside him. You left space between you, just in case he wanted there to be some.

You were drinking your beverage a little faster than you should have and he noticed. "You alright?"

"Mhmm," you hummed.

"Is this about what I said at the restaurant?"

"Umm--uhh--"

"Because I didn't mean to offend you or make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," you said quickly. It had made you uncomfortable, but not in the way he was thinking.

"Okay, good." He took a sip of his drink. "Because I meant it."

You exhaled sharply and he turned to look at you.

He sat his glass down on the coffee table and scooted closer to you. "I think about it all the time, (Y/N). I think about you all the time. It's almost annoying--you occupy my thoughts all day every day and I don't know how to deal with it. You make me feel like a teenager again."

You didn't know what to say. You'd dreamed of this happening, but you never actually thought it would. Now that you were sitting in this position, you had no idea what to do.

"I know I'm older than you--hell, I might be too old for you, but I can't help the way I feel. I'll never bring it up again if that's what you want, but I wanted to tell you the truth."

"You're not too old for me," you said quickly.

"How old are you?"

"30."

"Oh," he seemed almost relieved. "I thought you were younger than that...I actually feel better."

You laughed lightly. "10 years isn't all that much."

He shook his head. "Not at our ages."

You fell silent again, unsure what to say next. You finished your drink, then set it on the coffee table beside his. "Why me?"

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Why would you want me?"

"Because you're incredible?"

You rolled your eyes. "Elliot, come on. Look at us."

"I don't understand."

You sighed, feeling reluctant to answer. "Look at you. Hot, muscular, in incredible shape. Then look at me. I'm none of those things--I'm overweight, frumpy, and average at best."

He stared at you in silence for a long moment, shock evident in his features. "While I appreciate the compliments, doll, that's not what I see when I look at you."

You almost didn't want to ask, but you had to know. "What do you see?" you whispered.

He moved closer to you so he could take your hand in his. "I see a beautiful woman with warm, caring eyes, and a gentle heart. I see a woman who makes me laugh, a woman who's witty and charming and brilliant. I see the kind of woman I can imagine a future with."

You were breathless by the time he'd finished speaking. No man had ever said anything like that to you before, even before you'd put on weight.

"Do you want more details? I can give you more," he said softly as he leaned forward so his body hovered over yours. You were caged in the corner of the couch and for the first time in a long time, you felt tiny.

You couldn't find the words, so you simply nodded.

He smiled down at you and licked his lips. "I see the sexiest woman I've ever met--a woman I've wanted to touch since the moment I laid eyes on her. Every part of her gorgeous body is perfect...and I want to claim it all as mine," he finished with a soft growl.

Every instinct in your body was screaming at you to just do something and you finally gave in. You wanted this as much as he did, so why not indulge?

You leaned forward and crashed your lips against his, moaning softly as he pulled you closer. He deepened the kiss, desperate to feel as much of you as he could.

You shifted beneath him, allowing him to settle between your legs. He wedged his knee against your crotch and brought his hands down to your sides.

You moaned softly as his lips began to trace your jaw line, then down your neck, then to the sweet spot behind your ear.

You felt his hot breath in your ear as he whispered, "You're so beautiful." You shivered involuntarily and your hips bucked forward in search of friction.

He chuckled softly. "Needy, are we?"

"Yes," you admitted, allowing the desperation to creep into your voice. "Need you."

"Oh sweet thing, don't you worry, I'll take care of you."

"Elliot," you whimpered softly.

He groaned. "God I love hearing you say my name like that."

He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you against him. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him and he whispered, "Good girl."

You shuddered, the praise going right to your core. It didn't go unnoticed by him, and he tucked it in the back of his mind for later.

"Where's the bedroom?"

You pointed to the right and he stood up with you still wrapped around him like a baby koala. "Elliot!" you yelped.

He smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. "Don't worry, baby, I got you."

He carried you to your room with ease, tossing you onto the bed like you weighed nothing more than a rag doll. You'd never been so turned on in your damn life.

He climbed on the bed, covering you with his large form. His lips sought yours again, latching onto you like you were his lifeline. Your left hand trailed up his back, your fingers gently clutching the hairs at the back of his head.

He continued to kiss you, but your mind began to wander. You thought about seeing him in the gym earlier that morning and your body started to heat up even more. You wanted to see all of him, not just his arm muscles.

You gripped the edge of his shirt and tugged harshly, desperate to get it off him as fast as possible. He chuckled softly as he sat up, just long enough to take off his shirt.

He was back on top of you before you could register the view--and you found yourself annoyed. An idea popped into your head and you smirked against his lips. He might be a hell of a lot stronger than you, but you had the element of surprise.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again, pulling him towards you so you could lock your ankles around him. His groan quickly turned into a gasp of surprise when you flipped him onto his back. You smiled down at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked lightly.

"I wanted to see you better...so I'm in control now."

He didn't often give up control anywhere, let alone the bedroom, but you looked so pleased with yourself that he couldn't help but acquiesce.

Your eyes had drifted from his face to his exposed torso. He watched as your hands followed the curve of his muscles, eyes drinking in every inch of his skin. The way you looked at him was intoxicating--it was like a drug he didn't wanna quit.

Your eyes flicked back up to his and he saw the unbridled lust in them. It took every ounce of self-control he had to not flip you over and fuck you senseless. All he could think about was hearing you screaming his name, but he knew he had to wait. He had a feeling it would be worth it.

"Can I touch you?" he asked softly.

You nodded and he immediately grabbed your hips and tugged you onto his abdomen. He wanted you to be a little bit closer so he could touch every part of you. His hands slowly slid under the hem of your shirt and for a moment, you froze--panic rising in your chest.

Elliot saw it flicker across your face, so he stopped moving, but he didn't remove his hands. He wanted to make sure you knew he was only stopping to make sure you were comfortable, not because he found something he didn't like.

"Can I keep going?" he whispered.

You nodded cautiously, so he slowly moved his hands farther up your belly. He enjoyed the feeling of your soft curves and he had a feeling he was really going to enjoy holding onto you while he fucked you.

He reached the edge of your bra and paused, waiting for you to indicate it was okay for him to continue. You didn't tell him to stop, so he slid his hands up over your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. You released a soft sigh and he did his best to keep moving at a slow pace, despite wanting to literally rip your clothes off.

You allowed him to pull your shirt up and over your head, and it took all the energy you had not to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. When you saw the look on his face--the hunger in his eyes--you suddenly didn't feel as self-conscious as before. Your body reacted to him in the same way his reacted to you, and you felt the desperation begin to creep in.

You shifted your hips, seeking some kind of friction against his body, while your nails raked down his chest. He groaned softly, but his hands didn't leave your body. Instead, they slipped around to your back and quickly unhooked your bra.

The moment your breasts came into full view, his hands began to massage and knead them, fingers pinching and twisting your nipples gently.

You moaned and dug your nails into his sides, gripping them for stability. He looked up at you, at your dark, lust-filled eyes, and he lost control for a moment. He flipped you onto your back so fast you let out a little yelp in surprise.

That yelp quickly turned to deep moans as his mouth attached to your breasts, sending bolts of pleasure through your body. His hands fumbled with the button and zipper of your pants--he was about 3 seconds away from ripping them when he finally got the buttons undone.

"Why are women's dress pants so complicated? There are literally THREE buttons." he mumbled against your skin.

You laughed warmly, knowing he was right. "Try wearing them sometime."

He grinned up at you. "They look better on you, but..." he tugged your pants off and tossed them onto the floor. "...just as I thought, they look much better on the floor."

You chuckled at his joke and rolled your eyes. You were about to comment on the cheesiness of his statement, when he sat up and began removing his own pants. You were so focused on watching him that you forgot what you were about to say.

You eyed his bulge when it came into view and you began to pant with need. Elliot noticed and gave you a little smirk. "Want me to take these off?" he asked, gesturing to his boxers.

You nodded rapidly.

"Sorry, baby, I didn't catch that."

"Yes, please," you said aloud.

"Good girl."

You moaned and rolled your hips involuntarily--the praise going directly to your core.

His words had the desired effect on you and it only made him want you more. He tugged off his underwear and climbed back into the bed, but you stopped him with a gasp.

"Absolutely not," you said with wide eyes.

"What?" he asked in confusion. He followed your line of sight and realized you were staring directly at his dick. "Something wrong?"

"It's not gonna fit."

Elliot nearly collapsed in relief as he started to laugh. "Baby, you had me worried for a minute." He laughed again. "Don't worry, it'll fit."

You shook your head. "I might be a big girl, but my vagina isn't."

He laughed again. "You're perfect, baby, and I promise you, I'll be gentle."

You finally looked back up at him, eyes still filled with doubt. He offered you a warm smile and it helped to put you at ease. "Okay," you murmured. "I trust you."

"That's my girl." He climbed back on top of you and kissed you deeply.

When he broke off the kiss, he began to make his way down your body, lips never more than an inch away from your skin. He was dying to taste you and he was quite certain he'd waited long enough.

When he reached your core, his eyes flicked up to yours to make sure you were watching. He grabbed ahold of the edge of your panties with his teeth and tugged on them--pulling them down your body with nothing but his mouth.

You didn't know why the hell that was so hot, but good god it was. But nothing could have prepared you for the sight of Elliot's large body between your legs, mouth mere centimeters from where you needed him. You'd never imagined he'd look this damn good, nor did you imagine you would feel so comfortable baring yourself to him completely.

Elliot locked eyes with you as he placed soft kisses to your inner thighs and your pussy lips. He breathed in your scent as he did so, and he had to grip the bedsheets to keep from losing his control.

You were panting heavily, the anticipation nearly killing you. "Elliot, please," you whimpered, hips jerking slightly.

He smiled as he placed another kiss to your mound. "Please what, baby?"

"Do something," you begged.

"Something?"

"Anything! Please!"

Normally he would have kept asking until you used your words and told him what you really wanted, but he was having a hard time resisting his own urges right now, so he decided to have mercy on you.

He dove into you with abandon, mouth working you in ways you'd never imagined. It was like having a sex god between your legs--not that you'd ever say that to him, he'd probably find it blasphemous--but in that moment, you couldn't be bothered to care.

Your nails raked against his scalp as you struggled to find purchase somewhere on his body. Your hands finally came to rest on his biceps, nails digging into his skin as you held on for dear life.

Your body jerked beneath him, the pleasure so immense that he had to hold you down to keep you from squirming away from him. He glanced back up at your face to make sure you were enjoying it--and was met with the most beautiful sight.

Your head was thrown back against the pillows, mouth open as you moaned and panted. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath you took. He wished he could see your face better, but it was more than obvious you were enjoying yourself.

He somehow learned exactly what you liked, and what you needed, without you having to say a single word. You were more than pleased because you were certain you couldn't actually speak. The only sounds coming from your mouth were moans and something that closely resembled his name.

His fingertips were digging into your hips as he held you in place--his grip so tight it was sure to leave bruises. Your legs began to shake around him and your thighs started to close in on his head, but he was more than happy to wear your legs like earmuffs.

Your moans rose in volume and length, signaling you were close. Your nails dug deeper into his biceps, pressing crescent shapes into his skin. It would have been painful in any other setting, but he was more than delighted to bear the pain.

He knew you were close to orgasm, so he sped up his movements, tongue dancing against your clit with expert precision.

You gasped his name, hips jerking against him as you came. He held on tightly as he helped you ride out your high--not stopping even as you began to whimper.

"Too sensitive, Elliot," you gasped.

He lifted his head long enough to say, "I'm not done," before diving in with renewed vigor.

You gasped at the intensity of the sensations and within seconds you could feel a second orgasm building within you.

He lifted his head again. "Unless you want me to stop?"

"No!" you practically yelled. Your hand grabbed the back of his head and pushed him back down and he chuckled warmly at your insistence.

"I didn't think so," he mumbled before licking his way back into your pussy.

Unlike your first orgasm, your second hit you suddenly and quickly--rendering you nearly speechless. You could do nothing but gasp for air as wave after wave of pleasure threatened to drown you in an ocean of passion.

Elliot finally lifted his head, a satisfied smirk resting on his handsome features. You looked down at him, breathless and wide eyed, and he felt his body heat up.

He moved with such speed that it surprised you, nearly pouncing on top of you, mouth mere inches from yours. He seemed to be studying your face and for a moment you felt embarrassed--unaccustomed to such a lustful expression on another person's face.

But the way he looked at you--the desire evident in his eyes--simultaneously put you at ease and made you want him with renewed desire.

He touched your cheek, which was flushed bright red. He could feel the heat radiating from it and he liked being the cause of such a reaction. "You look beautiful like this," he whispered.

Your cheeks turned a darker crimson and he smiled, knowing he'd caused that as well. "I like you like this," he murmured. "Laid out beneath me, pretty eyes wide, lips parted, hair a mess...I've never seen anything so sexy."

"Elliot," you whispered. You didn't know what else to say, so you let your body do the talking for you. You tugged him down to you, lips latching onto his as you kissed him hungrily.

He lowered himself to be closer to you, careful not to put his weight on top of you--he didn't want to hurt you. His hands tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You moaned softly, hips pressing upward against his pelvis. His cock brushed against your core, earning a groan from deep in his chest.

You liked the sound he made and you were desperate to hear more of them, so you did it again, this time more slowly and with more pressure. He pressed against you, his own body seeking friction of its own volition.

You slipped your dominant hand between your bodies and wrapped it around the base of his cock, squeezing gently as you stroked upward. He groaned and his hips bucked against your hand.

Even though he was on top of you, you felt like you were in control...and you were going to use it to your advantage. You slipped the head of his cock between your folds, sliding it upward against your clit. He groaned and bit down into the soft flesh of your neck and you gasped at the mixture of pain and pleasure.

You were about to do it again, but Elliot pulled just out of reach. "Baby if you keep doing that, I'm gonna lose control."

Your eyes widened innocently. "What if that's exactly what I want?"

His eyes widened in surprise. "What?" he croaked.

"What if I want you to lose control? What if I like the idea of you fucking me like a feral wild animal? I want you to fuck me so well I can't walk tomorrow. Make me scream, Elliot. Please."

The seductive tone in your voice morphed into a plea at the end--a plea Elliot could not refuse. Not when you looked so gorgeous and needy beneath him...not when you said his name like that...not when you begged him to fuck you like he'd been dreaming about for months.

He grabbed his cock and began to rub it gently against your entrance, earning soft moans of pleasure from you. He knew you would feel incredible, but he was trying to hang onto whatever sanity he had left.

"Relax for me, baby," he whispered gently. He felt the tension in your body ease a little, but he needed you to be completely relaxed or he was definitely going to hurt you.

He gently rubbed circles into your hips, trying to calm your racing heart. "I've got you, doll. I'll go real slow, okay?"

You nodded, expression still worried.

"Hey," he whispered, leaning forward to kiss you softly. "You tell me to stop, I stop, okay? No matter what."

"I don't want you to stop," you whispered.

He smiled gently. "Just in case, baby." He kissed you again before assuming his previous position. "Just relax, beautiful. It'll feel so good--I know you're ready for me."

You relaxed your body as much as you could, but nothing could have properly prepared you for the stretch you were about to experience.

Elliot began to slowly enter you, eyes never leaving your face. Every time you winced or inhaled sharply, he wanted to stop, but you told him to keep going.

Once he fully bottomed out, your breathing was ragged as your body adjusted to his size. He was using every ounce of will power he'd ever had to just stay still.

"You're doing so well for me, baby," he managed to groan out. "Such a good girl."

Your pussy spasmed around him as the words "good girl" registered in your brain. You suddenly needed him to move...

The moment he felt you clench around him, something inside of him snapped and it was game over for him. Whatever self-control he'd had went out the window and he started to move, setting a fast pace from the start.

Your cries mixed with his groans as he slammed into you with force. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he worried he was hurting you, but one look at your face shut that voice down instantly.

You looked much like you did when he'd been eating you out, only this time he had a view of your face. It was a sight to behold--one he didn't think he'd ever get over.

"You feel so good, baby," he whispered.

"Please, El--" you whimpered.

He wasn't sure what you needed and you didn't appear to be in any position to tell him, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. He shifted his body so your hips were angled up, one leg on either side of head. As he thrust into you, you cried out desperately, hands fisting the sheets beside you.

He felt as the head of his cock hit that soft spot inside you--and he knew he couldn't stop now. He kept up his pace, slamming into your g-spot with each thrust.

The sounds coming from your mouth were incredible--he wanted to hear them every single day for the rest of his life. You were shaking with pleasure, body writhing against him as he struggled to keep you in place.

He needed to feel you cum around his cock at least once before he found his own release...so all of his focus was on getting you to your next orgasm.

He started to murmur dirty things to you, noticing the way your body reacted to his words. "Your pussy feels so good, baby. So tight and warm--I could stay here all night."

You were way too far gone to respond verbally, but your body told him everything he needed to know.

"You're taking me so well--squeezing so tight."

He placed soft, sloppy kisses to your calves, hips never slowing their intense pace.

"This is my pussy, you hear me? Mine. I'm gonna make sure she feels so good, baby."

You moaned loudly--clearly liking the idea of being his.

"You like that, huh? You like knowing you're mine? Like knowing I'm marking you? No one else will ever compare, baby--gonna ruin you."

"Elliot!" you screamed as your orgasm came crashing down on you. Your pussy spasmed around his cock, squeezing him so tightly he could hardly breathe.

The feeling of your orgasm triggered his own, sending him spiraling over the edge with a deep groan and whispers of your name. He filled you with his seed, letting your legs fall to either side of his hips as he stuttered his last few thrusts.

He collapsed on top of you, whispering your name against your skin like a prayer. He kissed your jaw and your neck--the affection warming your heart as you lay beneath him, slowly coming down from your high.

After several moments, Elliot pulled out of you and rolled onto his back. You both lay on the bed, breathless, as you tried to regain control of your heart rates.

Elliot grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours as he lay beside you. He turned to look at you and he smiled, taking in your beautiful post-sex glow.

You turned your head to look at him and smiled warmly. "That was..."

"Fucking incredible."

"I was gonna say decent," you teased.

He laughed and jokingly rolled away from you.

"Come back! I was kidding!" you called after him.

He kept laughing as he looked over his shoulder at you. "Come get me then."

"I can't move," you said simply.

He rolled back towards you, body now facing you. "Oh yeah? And it was just decent?"

"Decent--best sex of my life--same thing."

He grinned wolfishly and leaned in to kiss you. "That's more like it."

You rolled your eyes and affectionately smacked his arm. "Cocky, are we?"

"I know what I'm good at," he said with a shrug.

"Smart ass," you teased.

"But you like my ass," he teased back.

"It does look nice in those jeans you sometimes wear. Makes me wanna bite it."

"Oooo, kinky."

You both laughed.

Elliot looked down and his expression immediately sobered.

"What's wrong?"

"I--I didn't--I was so caught up..."

"What?"

He looked back up at you, a look of regret on his handsome face. "I didn't even think about putting on a condom, (Y/N)...I--God, I'm so sorry."

You shrugged. "No need to worry. I trust that you're clean."

"I am," he assured you. "But what about...pregnancy?"

"Oh," you brushed him off. "We definitely don't need to worry about that. I have a tiny sperm murderer living in my uterus."

"You have a what?"

You laughed. "I have an IUD."

He started laughing too. "Oh! 'Sperm murderer'..." he mumbled as he laughed even harder.

You grinned ear to ear. "I was gonna call it a tiny copper knight defending my honor, but I figured that was too much."

"You're so weird," he teased. "Come here."

You giggled as he grabbed you and dragged you against his chest. He held you tightly as he kissed your skin softly. "You're so beautiful," he whispered.

"Elliot..."

"You are," he insisted.

For the first time in a long time, you felt truly beautiful, but more importantly, you felt seen. He knew who you were and wanted you anyway. He liked you for you...and he liked your body, which was really just a bonus.

"What are you thinking about?"

"If we should get a shower...or go for round two?"

He groaned softly. "I'm an old man, doll."

You rolled over so you were on top of him. "Well that's just a pity...there's so much I wanna do to you."

His eyes seemed to burn as he looked at you. There was absolutely no way in hell he could say no to you. "You're gonna be the death of me."

"At least you'll die a happy man."

He grinned. "No man has ever been happier."