FIC: Finders Keepers, Elliot/Olivia, NC17
Title: Finders Keeprs
Author: Frannie
Pairing: E/O
Rating: NC17
Summary:
She’s never felt this kinda rage.
Kidnapped and abandoned in a warehouse, (fucking warehouses she thinks) after four months of deep undercover that has now failed because Elliot was too Catholic, too Elliot, to do what had to be done, and now, now, she is lying next to him on this couch, the heat of him scorching her back and she is both safe and furious.
She is cocooned in him, pressed between his body and the leather backrest. The feel of a solid wall of muscle and one arm casually thrown around her shoulders is ruined by his murmuring.
‘Baby.’
‘Please, sweetheart.’
‘Oh, oh, oh.’
He’s dreaming about his wife, and she’s so mad and he is such a motherfucker.
The worst part is that she is so horribly aroused. Her body tightens on its own accord as he slowly pushes his hips against her, the movement pressing his jean clad knees to the bare soft skin at the back of hers. The feel of it is so intimate; if she were any other woman she’d whimper. She thinks if she squeezes her thighs one more time she may come.
He is topless and she is only wearing his shirt and her underwear. It’s just a blow job Stabler, she remembers thinking. Pretend, and we can be home by dinner. Elliot couldn’t pretend and now they were locked and awaiting trial by the elders of an armageddon cult. Fuck.
He couldn’t get it up then, she thinks bitterly, but now he is practically panting into her ear. Now that he thinks she’s someone else.
The warm breath of air is a whisper against her skin: ‘Kathy’.
She feels her stomach drop. A strange, otherworldly emptiness settles into her chest, into her hands, and Olivia swallows the surge of bile at the back of her throat.
As he presses his erection further against her, she begins the struggle to extract herself from his arms. This love of hers is a cruel and unusual punishment.
His hold on her tightens and she can feel the exact moment he wakes.
‘Stay still’, he says. Its low, and guttural, and sounds like sex and sin.
Before she can protest, he presses his lips against her neck, and then opens his wet mouth and bites with his perfect square teeth. She cries out just the once, low, and commands her disobedient body to move.
‘Shhhh’ he murmurs, nuzzling her neck and touching his lips to the back of her ear.
And then: his hand is on her naked thigh. His fingers dig into the skin and his knee is pressing between her legs. Her traitorous body shifts to give him that access and he instantly pulls her leg over his knee, exposing her wet panties to the crisp air.
She feels him inhale, and she thinks bastard, bastard, bastard.
She moves to... to do something, she is not quite sure what, but Elliot slaps her hand away and growls ‘I got it, stay still’ and surprisingly she does.
He holds her hand for a moment, and she can feel his sleepy grin, and then his fingers are pressing against her through the underwear.
She screams into the leather backrest.
The only thing holding her back from an instant orgasm is the realisation that he thinks it’s Kathy beneath his hands. Even that is not enough to make her pull away, and she thinks horrible thoughts like finders keepers, and, undeserving civilian bitch as he pushes one finger inside of her.
Then two.
It’s almost painful at two, which she frankly finds surprising. She has been ready for him for over a decade.
Instead at every thrust he pushes at something and she thinks, this can never stop, ever, or I’ll die, and is grateful he isn’t touching her clit because she’d come too soon, and then, unbelievably, she is coming.
He pushes his fingers as deep inside as he can manage, presses his knee, his torso, his face, against her skin while she rides out her orgasm.
She finds herself crying into the palms of her hands, and panting, and she thinks Oh god, I’m not Kathy even as Elliot presses his thumb against her clitoris and pushes a third finger inside of her.
It hurts, its too much, and she loves him.
He is half off the couch now, resting a lot of his weight on top of her. Three of the fingers of his right hand are inside and his thumb is rubbing and circling and when she comes again he kisses her.
She cannot bare to open her eyes and see recognition and then revulsion when he finally realises she isn’t his wife. Instead, she bites at his lower lip, and clutches at his biceps as he moves his fingers out of her.
She mourns the loss, but his tongue and his mouth are still there and so she keeps her eyes closed and kisses him back.
He pulls away and she gasps for air against his open mouth, tears running down her cheeks, her eyes shut tight.
‘Good girl, Liv’ he says, and kisses her forehead, and draws her further into his body with both arm and knee.
She turns into him, and sobs into his bare chest, screaming you bastard as he holds her.
.
Author: Frannie
Pairing: E/O
Rating: NC17
Summary:
She’s never felt this kinda rage.
Kidnapped and abandoned in a warehouse, (fucking warehouses she thinks) after four months of deep undercover that has now failed because Elliot was too Catholic, too Elliot, to do what had to be done, and now, now, she is lying next to him on this couch, the heat of him scorching her back and she is both safe and furious.
She is cocooned in him, pressed between his body and the leather backrest. The feel of a solid wall of muscle and one arm casually thrown around her shoulders is ruined by his murmuring.
‘Baby.’
‘Please, sweetheart.’
‘Oh, oh, oh.’
He’s dreaming about his wife, and she’s so mad and he is such a motherfucker.
The worst part is that she is so horribly aroused. Her body tightens on its own accord as he slowly pushes his hips against her, the movement pressing his jean clad knees to the bare soft skin at the back of hers. The feel of it is so intimate; if she were any other woman she’d whimper. She thinks if she squeezes her thighs one more time she may come.
He is topless and she is only wearing his shirt and her underwear. It’s just a blow job Stabler, she remembers thinking. Pretend, and we can be home by dinner. Elliot couldn’t pretend and now they were locked and awaiting trial by the elders of an armageddon cult. Fuck.
He couldn’t get it up then, she thinks bitterly, but now he is practically panting into her ear. Now that he thinks she’s someone else.
The warm breath of air is a whisper against her skin: ‘Kathy’.
She feels her stomach drop. A strange, otherworldly emptiness settles into her chest, into her hands, and Olivia swallows the surge of bile at the back of her throat.
As he presses his erection further against her, she begins the struggle to extract herself from his arms. This love of hers is a cruel and unusual punishment.
His hold on her tightens and she can feel the exact moment he wakes.
‘Stay still’, he says. Its low, and guttural, and sounds like sex and sin.
Before she can protest, he presses his lips against her neck, and then opens his wet mouth and bites with his perfect square teeth. She cries out just the once, low, and commands her disobedient body to move.
‘Shhhh’ he murmurs, nuzzling her neck and touching his lips to the back of her ear.
And then: his hand is on her naked thigh. His fingers dig into the skin and his knee is pressing between her legs. Her traitorous body shifts to give him that access and he instantly pulls her leg over his knee, exposing her wet panties to the crisp air.
She feels him inhale, and she thinks bastard, bastard, bastard.
She moves to... to do something, she is not quite sure what, but Elliot slaps her hand away and growls ‘I got it, stay still’ and surprisingly she does.
He holds her hand for a moment, and she can feel his sleepy grin, and then his fingers are pressing against her through the underwear.
She screams into the leather backrest.
The only thing holding her back from an instant orgasm is the realisation that he thinks it’s Kathy beneath his hands. Even that is not enough to make her pull away, and she thinks horrible thoughts like finders keepers, and, undeserving civilian bitch as he pushes one finger inside of her.
Then two.
It’s almost painful at two, which she frankly finds surprising. She has been ready for him for over a decade.
Instead at every thrust he pushes at something and she thinks, this can never stop, ever, or I’ll die, and is grateful he isn’t touching her clit because she’d come too soon, and then, unbelievably, she is coming.
He pushes his fingers as deep inside as he can manage, presses his knee, his torso, his face, against her skin while she rides out her orgasm.
She finds herself crying into the palms of her hands, and panting, and she thinks Oh god, I’m not Kathy even as Elliot presses his thumb against her clitoris and pushes a third finger inside of her.
It hurts, its too much, and she loves him.
He is half off the couch now, resting a lot of his weight on top of her. Three of the fingers of his right hand are inside and his thumb is rubbing and circling and when she comes again he kisses her.
She cannot bare to open her eyes and see recognition and then revulsion when he finally realises she isn’t his wife. Instead, she bites at his lower lip, and clutches at his biceps as he moves his fingers out of her.
She mourns the loss, but his tongue and his mouth are still there and so she keeps her eyes closed and kisses him back.
He pulls away and she gasps for air against his open mouth, tears running down her cheeks, her eyes shut tight.
‘Good girl, Liv’ he says, and kisses her forehead, and draws her further into his body with both arm and knee.
She turns into him, and sobs into his bare chest, screaming you bastard as he holds her.
.