FIC: Close Enough [SVU: Olivia/Keller]
Title: Close Enough, Complete
Fandom: SVU
Pairing: Olivia/Keller, slight Olivia/Elliot
Rating: R, for the standard stuff
Originally Posted: July 2005
Word Count: 3351
Summary: Olivia's obsession with Elliot sends her into the arms of another - Chris Keller. Crossover with Oz.
A/N: This is the prequel to Love & Happiness. And, I found it kinda funny that I have the sequel on my journal but not the fic that started it!
Close Enough
It was day 46 of a heat wave with seemingly no end in sight. It was during days like these that Olivia often thought of transferring. Maybe someplace like Oregon, or Seattle, Hell, even Alaska. Anyplace where her skull didn’t bake under the sun and her feet didn’t fry from walking the sidewalks. But, she knew such thoughts were flights of fancy. She’d long ago resigned herself to a life in New York. It had seeped into her soul, wrapped around her heart with a vice grip. Leaving New York would be akin to death.
She and Munch walked side by side on the only part of the sidewalk with a hint of shade. She wore faded jeans, a sleeveless tee already sticky with sweat. Her leather jacket thrown over her shoulder held with a couple fingers. Munch, on the other hand, maintained his man in black persona; black slacks, shirt, shoes with matching trench coat and fedora.
Olivia gave him a sideways glance. Lips formed in a half smile. “Why don’t you sweat?”
“Mind over matter,” he explained, tapping a finger against a temple. “Think cool. Become cool. Be cool.”
She chuckled softly as they turned a corner into a garage. It was a specialty garage, specializing in foreign, expensive cars.
The owner of the garage, Chuck, stood behind a cash register barking orders to no one in particular. The detectives approached, flashing their badges in tandem. Munch gave the introductions, tucking his badge back into a coat pocket as he spoke. “We’re looking for an employee of yours.”
“In the back,” the man growled in a voice that spoke of too many cigarettes, booze and hard living.
Munch and Olivia followed the jut of Chuck’s thumb, weaving their way towards the back of the garage. Their target, two legs jutting out from underneath a truck.
“Keller?” Munch spoke authoritatively, “Chris Keller?”
“Yea,” a pair of grease stained hands attached themselves to the underside of the truck, pulling the rest of him outwards. Olivia valiantly kept her mouth from hitting the floor.
There before them stood one Chris Keller. The spitting image of Elliot Stabler. The same piercing blue eyes, strong jaw, hairline. But, even with the eerie similarities, to the two people who‘d spent several years around the man, the differences were glaring. Chris was leaner, harder, a body created by prison, by life on the streets. His eyes were colder, almost predatory, as if he was always on guard, always ready to strike. Then, there were the tattoos. She studied Elliot’s body too long and hard not to notice the subtle differences displayed before her.
The moment was no more than a nanosecond, but Olivia could sense Keller knew she was examining him. His lips cocked into a half smirk. He leaned back, arms resting on the hood allowing the muscles in his arms to flex. Legs planted apart. Coveralls pulled down to the waist. Tee shirt sticking to a sculpted chest. He was posing and definitely not for Munch.
“What can I do for you?” His eyes never left Olivia’s. She allowed Munch to do the talking for them. Keller’s name had been given as a possible alibi for a robbery suspect. His smile had stretched wider at the suspect’s name, hinting at a more intimate knowledge of him. But, Keller admitted to no knowledge of being near the suspect at the time of the robbery, negating the man’s alibi. With friends like Keller, he really didn’t need enemies.
“Thanks for your time,” Munch nodded.
Olivia snapped to her senses enough to give Keller her business card, “If you can think of anything else..”
“I’ll be sure to give you a call,” he smiled. His fingers reached for the card. A shiver erupted down her spine at the barest hint of skin on skin, as Keller’s finger grazed across hers. She’d felt it before. The feeling of being marked, claimed. Most men did it with their eyes.
**
The Squad Room was unusually busy for the time of day. A steady stream of perps, witnesses, bystanders. Mostly, it was cops. Anything to get away from the heat and filling out paperwork suddenly became the most important of tasks.
Olivia sat behind her desk going over her notes. Across from her, Elliot sat behind his talking on the phone. She assumed it was Kathy. There was always a subtle lilt in his voice, a certain twinkle in his eye reserved especially for her. She did as she always did, swallowed the growing envy rising in her throat, burying it deep within her. They had the perfect partnership. Two sides of the same coin. But, sometimes the opposing sides ran too deep. Olivia often thought Elliot had everything she couldn’t, and wouldn’t.
Elliot hung up the phone with an ‘I love you’. Rising from his chair, he stretched his arms above his head. She tried not to stare. At the man who’d been closer to her than any other human on the planet, in every way except one. The one she wanted most.
He crossed around their desks, sitting on the corner of Olivia’s. “What’ve you got?”
“This case is mostly closed. Munch and Fin are bringing in the suspect now. None of his alibi’s checked out. Apparently, he‘s not well liked enough to warrant lying for.”
Elliot nodded, processing the information. She could see the beginnings of a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. He leaned in a bit closer, blue eyes twinkling. “So, I hear I have a doppelganger. What’s he like? Anything like me?”
“He’s nothing like you,” her eyes remained on her notes. She didn’t want to think about Keller or the thoughts that Keller reminded her of. Thoughts, feelings, emotions she’d kept buried only to have resurrected over and over again.
Elliot leaned in a little closer. She could smell his cologne. Something the twin’s had given him for his birthday. He smelled clean, of soap and shampoo, of cologne and aftershave. The essence of Elliot. It should have been nothing at all. But, to Olivia, it was a razor’s edge pulled from the fire and stabbed deep in her gut, enflaming her insides.
He leaned back, slightly disappointed in the lack of gossip from his partner. Munch would be a better source anyway. “Hey, tonight’s meatloaf night, you wanna come over?”
That was Elliot. Always looking out for her. When she appeared a little gaunt, there was an invitation to dinner. Or bags of food mysteriously appeared on her desk regardless of whether she was actually hungry. When she was tired, he’d tell her to get some sleep, offer to take some of her paperwork, or just do it.
He was her best friend, confidant, closer to her than any person she’d known. And in return, she often held him at arm’s length. Sometimes she bit, snapped, avoided, confronted. Anything to keep him from getting too close, to keep him from realizing that she’d fallen in love with a man she could never have.
“Nah, I’m fine. I’ve got alotta paper work to finish.”
**
Olivia continued peeling the label off her beer. It was warm, barely a swallow left but somehow she wasn’t ready for another one. She’d had her share for the evening. Had reached the point in the evening where a) she’d get blind stinking drunk or b) go home. Except, she didn’t want to do either.
Getting drunk made her depressed. Being depressed led to thoughts of Elliot. Going home meant being alone. Being alone led to thoughts of Elliot. She was damned either way. She downed the last of her drink. Might as well be drunk, she thought bitterly.
The bar wasn’t her usual haunt. Dark, dingy, with sad sacks in old Harley tee shirts. Pictures of cars, motorcycles and women in skimpy swimwear tacked to the walls.
“I’d ask what’s a woman like you doing in a place like this but I think you‘ve heard that one before.”
Olivia normally wouldn’t have paid the voice any mind. She wasn’t in the mood to be flirted with and any attempts would be met with the harshest of retorts. Something the other patrons immediately understood when she’d entered the bar. But the voice was familiar, too familiar. She turned towards him. Chris Keller stood, elbows on the bar leaning towards her. The familiar half smirk plastered on his face.
“I guess I could say the same to you.”
“What’re you having?”
“I can pay for my own,” Olivia sneered half-heartedly.
Keller shrugged, turning just a bit more towards Olivia. “Just trying to be a gentleman.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
The bartender came over. Chris flashed two fingers. “One for me and the lady.”
“I told you..”
“I know what you told me,” his eyes flashed, “there’s a pool table over there. I’ll tell you what, you beat me, you can pay for the beers.”
“And if you win?”
“I take you back to my place.”
**
When she had time to think, she’d think about what she was doing. Why she was standing in the middle of Chris Keller’s apartment. He was a killer. She’d read his rap sheet. How she’d missed his picture would be one of those niggling details that would probably haunt her for the rest of her life. By all rights, Keller should still be in prison. But, as the saying goes - justice is blind, in more ways than one.
Except, he was Elliot, in every way that counted. She stood in the center of his apartment. A single room efficiency. It was surprisingly clean. The walls were white. The rug an ugly shade of tan, but it had been spotlessly vacuumed. A small wooden table with a single chair sat in a joke of a dining room. In the center of the room, headboard pushed against the wall was a bed.
“Would you like something to drink?”
She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. He was standing right behind her. There was an inherent air of danger about him. She knew she didn’t fit the profile of his victims. She was female after all. But, the feeling was there nonetheless. Like she was being tested. Whether she’d flee or fight.
“I’m fine.”
Keller edged around her. Making his way towards the kitchen, in two steps, he opened the fridge pulling out a bottle of water. He twisted the cap, tossing it into the tiny waste basket before walking into the center of the room. They watched each other as he downed the drink, swallowing half the bottle before taking a breath.
“Who are you waiting for?” Olivia asked.
“What do you mean?”
“C’mon Keller, I’ve read your rap sheet. You’ve been on parole for six months. Never miss a meeting. Always call in. Your apartment. It’s spotless. A parolee doesn’t put on this kind of appearance unless it’s for someone.”
The half smile returned, “Maybe I’m waiting for the right woman.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t believe people can change?”
She didn’t answer. What ever ‘this’ was, it wasn’t about change. It was sex pure and simple.
“Who are you waiting for?” Keller began undressing. First the shoes, followed by his shirt, jeans. Keller went commando Olivia noted as she gave a quick glance. He turned towards Olivia, facing her in all his naked glory. “Who is it that you want standing here instead of me?”
He wasn’t Elliot. Every synapse in her brain screamed. But the rest of her responded other wise. Her feet, moving on their own, stepped towards him. Her hands moved towards his chest, ran across the smooth hardened pectorals.
He wasn’t Elliot. He was close enough. The blue eyes. The strong shoulders and even stronger hands. The pheromone scent of masculinity.
She watched his eyes. Watched him for a reaction as she examined him with her hands. Wanting to watch her fingers caress the sculpted body that had plagued her fantasies for years but not wanting to sever the eye contact with the man who was Elliot but not. Her hand moved downward, across the flat plain of his stomach. Felt the slight twitch in his stomach as she moved lower. Until she held his cock in her palm, already hardening under her touch.
“Who says I’m not here for you?”
He waited for her, like a cobra waiting to strike. He’d been waiting since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. There’d been a guardedness about her. Of walls thought impenetrable. Keller was good at breaking walls.
What he didn’t expect was what he’d find behind those walls. She’d read him just as easily as he’d read her. He was attracted to her vulnerability, what he got in return, as Olivia planted her free hand behind his neck and yanked him towards her, was strength.
Olivia kissed like a guy. Fuck caution. Fuck decorum. Fuck romance. Her lips were soft, but she was strong, forceful, hungry. Her tongue demandingly jutted into his mouth. The fingers around his cock gripped harder. Until the blood pounded in his ears, until his hips were grinding of their own accord, thrusting into her fingers.
He moved a hand between them. Clumsily unfastened her belt, the zipper. Slid his hand between denim and skin. He wasn’t the only one who went commando.
They stood in the center of his tiny apartment, kissing, grunting, jacking each other in a game of sexual one-upmanship. Until the kisses turned harder, breathing more ragged. The thrusts of hips and fingers more urgent.
Keller came first. He grunted into Olivia’s mouth. Tried to maintain a sense of composure as stars formed behind his eyes and his legs turned to rubber. Kept his composure enough to return the favor. Jutted his hand forward, jerking two fingers inside Olivia hard enough to lift her with one hand.
She cried out as the spasms rocked her body. Hips jerking convulsively onto Keller’s hand. The need for release overtaking her need for control. Olivia leaned against Keller, gasping into his neck.
She stiffened slightly as she regained a semblance of composure. She’d almost cried out his name. Almost. For the smallest of moments, the feeling had been perfect. That it was Elliot inside her, taking her over the edge, filling the empty space in her soul.
“Who is he?” Keller whispered into her ear.
“You,” Olivia grunted as she clasped her mouth onto Keller’s again. It was a fantasy. She knew it in her bones. But who says dreams don’t come true? They worked on her clothes. Hands grabbing and pulling and yanking, anything to get them off fast enough. Shoes kicked into a corner. Shirt tossed onto the kitchen table. Jeans kicked off, flung into a corner.
Years of wanting, longing, desiring, emotions that had been bottled up seemed to explode from within her. She pushed Keller onto the bed, pouncing on him hungrily. She explored him with her mouth. From lips to neck and downward. Felt the hiss in his chest as she suckled a nipple. Marking him as much as he’d marked her. Felt the urgency in his fingers as they tangled in her hair pushing her lower.
Keller groaned as soft lips and warm mouth engulfed him in a vice-like grip that felt like heaven. Internally cursed himself at how long it had truly been. At how long he had waited only to succumb to temptation. But, succumb he did.
“Fuck,“ he grunted. She‘d pulled away. Taken those wonderful lips off his aching need. Keller lifted his head. Watched as Olivia clambered over him hurriedly. Strong arms reaching up, he wrapped them around her waist, rolling Olivia onto her back. There was no hesitation from Olivia. She opened herself to him. She was tight and wet, squeezing around him. He thrust forward, until their hips connected.
“Harder,” whispered heavily between parted full lips. And he gave it to her. Harder and faster. Slip, sliding. Push, pulling. Jutted forcefully into the wet heat squeezing around him. Until she was crying out on every thrust. Until they were grunting in tandem.
Keller hurriedly pulled out. Roughly turning Olivia over then pounced on her, taking her from behind. He shuddered at the sensation, at the images of someone else beneath him. All the months of wanting and waiting unleashed from within. And she gave as good as she got. Even after she came, squeezing around him so tight his head swan. As if fucking him would exorcise some demon deep within her. Even when his hands clasped around her wrists, his weight pinning her to the mattress, she pushed back onto him, always wanting more. Until his teeth dug into her shoulder. Until, at the moment of culmination, he thrust so hard, so deep, exploding within her as if his very soul were emptying inside her.
**
He was waiting for her when she exited the shower. Waiting in that way only Keller could. Still on the bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other casually stroking himself a cocky yet almost disinterested half-grin on his face, as if waiting for the inevitable.
“You leavin’?”
“Disappointed?” Olivia fired back, a tinge of antagonism in her voice.
He shrugged. Never once stopping his ministrations. His eyes darkened slightly. “What’s his name?”
“Why do you care?” She had to leave. Things were getting weird. She grabbed her shirt, yanking it over her head.
“Because,“ Keller rose onto his knees. He scooted across the mattress, moving towards her. She started to feel claustrophobic. The room was too damn small. Too hot. Keller was too damn close. Already, she could feel the heat from his body so close to hers. Could smell the scent of sex still lingering on his skin. Could see the rise in his pulse as it pulsated through his cock. His eyes gazing at her seductively. Making her wonder if he looked at his victims that way. With eyes that said ‘I want you. I need you. I’m going to use you, fuck you, kill you. And you’ll be begging for more every step of the way’.
It was easy to cross the line between fantasy and reality when her thoughts were clouded with alcohol. When she could blame her decisions on something other than her own repressed desire. Now, with the alcoholic haze lifted from her brain, all that was left was cold stark reality.
She’d fucked up.
She didn’t want to stop.
She wanted to stay in this room. With Elliot’s doppelganger. With nothing but sweat and skin between them. With his cock inside her, filling her, using her, punishing her, pounding the soul aching desire that had tormented her for far too long away.
His hands rested lightly on her bare hips, he tilted his head until his eyes were locked onto Olivia’s. So much like Elliot. Too much like Elliot. Nothing like Elliot. But close enough.
“Because it means something to you.”
“Like I said,” she couldn’t help resisting, “why do you care?”
“It don’t seem right,” his right hand slid over the swell of her hip. Moving across and lower, until his fingers parted her flesh, then dipped inside. His eyes never leaving her face, examining Olivia. “You and me, in love with people we can never have. Stuck with the only person who’d understand.”
At that moment, she understood why she’d come home with Chris Keller. Why she’d slept with a replacement, when all she wanted was the original. Keller was Elliot’s dangerous side personified. The one kept in check by Elliot’s morals, his ethics. With Keller it was all id and animus. Desire unchecked. She didn’t have to worry about hurting Elliot. Compromising him. Destroying him, or herself.
She gave in, to his desire, to hers. Straddling his hips, lowering herself until he was inside her once again. In this moment, in the tiny little room with no air conditioning, Olivia didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to compromise. She could be what she wanted, with who she wanted.
Even if he was only close enough.
END
Fandom: SVU
Pairing: Olivia/Keller, slight Olivia/Elliot
Rating: R, for the standard stuff
Originally Posted: July 2005
Word Count: 3351
Summary: Olivia's obsession with Elliot sends her into the arms of another - Chris Keller. Crossover with Oz.
A/N: This is the prequel to Love & Happiness. And, I found it kinda funny that I have the sequel on my journal but not the fic that started it!
Close Enough
It was day 46 of a heat wave with seemingly no end in sight. It was during days like these that Olivia often thought of transferring. Maybe someplace like Oregon, or Seattle, Hell, even Alaska. Anyplace where her skull didn’t bake under the sun and her feet didn’t fry from walking the sidewalks. But, she knew such thoughts were flights of fancy. She’d long ago resigned herself to a life in New York. It had seeped into her soul, wrapped around her heart with a vice grip. Leaving New York would be akin to death.
She and Munch walked side by side on the only part of the sidewalk with a hint of shade. She wore faded jeans, a sleeveless tee already sticky with sweat. Her leather jacket thrown over her shoulder held with a couple fingers. Munch, on the other hand, maintained his man in black persona; black slacks, shirt, shoes with matching trench coat and fedora.
Olivia gave him a sideways glance. Lips formed in a half smile. “Why don’t you sweat?”
“Mind over matter,” he explained, tapping a finger against a temple. “Think cool. Become cool. Be cool.”
She chuckled softly as they turned a corner into a garage. It was a specialty garage, specializing in foreign, expensive cars.
The owner of the garage, Chuck, stood behind a cash register barking orders to no one in particular. The detectives approached, flashing their badges in tandem. Munch gave the introductions, tucking his badge back into a coat pocket as he spoke. “We’re looking for an employee of yours.”
“In the back,” the man growled in a voice that spoke of too many cigarettes, booze and hard living.
Munch and Olivia followed the jut of Chuck’s thumb, weaving their way towards the back of the garage. Their target, two legs jutting out from underneath a truck.
“Keller?” Munch spoke authoritatively, “Chris Keller?”
“Yea,” a pair of grease stained hands attached themselves to the underside of the truck, pulling the rest of him outwards. Olivia valiantly kept her mouth from hitting the floor.
There before them stood one Chris Keller. The spitting image of Elliot Stabler. The same piercing blue eyes, strong jaw, hairline. But, even with the eerie similarities, to the two people who‘d spent several years around the man, the differences were glaring. Chris was leaner, harder, a body created by prison, by life on the streets. His eyes were colder, almost predatory, as if he was always on guard, always ready to strike. Then, there were the tattoos. She studied Elliot’s body too long and hard not to notice the subtle differences displayed before her.
The moment was no more than a nanosecond, but Olivia could sense Keller knew she was examining him. His lips cocked into a half smirk. He leaned back, arms resting on the hood allowing the muscles in his arms to flex. Legs planted apart. Coveralls pulled down to the waist. Tee shirt sticking to a sculpted chest. He was posing and definitely not for Munch.
“What can I do for you?” His eyes never left Olivia’s. She allowed Munch to do the talking for them. Keller’s name had been given as a possible alibi for a robbery suspect. His smile had stretched wider at the suspect’s name, hinting at a more intimate knowledge of him. But, Keller admitted to no knowledge of being near the suspect at the time of the robbery, negating the man’s alibi. With friends like Keller, he really didn’t need enemies.
“Thanks for your time,” Munch nodded.
Olivia snapped to her senses enough to give Keller her business card, “If you can think of anything else..”
“I’ll be sure to give you a call,” he smiled. His fingers reached for the card. A shiver erupted down her spine at the barest hint of skin on skin, as Keller’s finger grazed across hers. She’d felt it before. The feeling of being marked, claimed. Most men did it with their eyes.
**
The Squad Room was unusually busy for the time of day. A steady stream of perps, witnesses, bystanders. Mostly, it was cops. Anything to get away from the heat and filling out paperwork suddenly became the most important of tasks.
Olivia sat behind her desk going over her notes. Across from her, Elliot sat behind his talking on the phone. She assumed it was Kathy. There was always a subtle lilt in his voice, a certain twinkle in his eye reserved especially for her. She did as she always did, swallowed the growing envy rising in her throat, burying it deep within her. They had the perfect partnership. Two sides of the same coin. But, sometimes the opposing sides ran too deep. Olivia often thought Elliot had everything she couldn’t, and wouldn’t.
Elliot hung up the phone with an ‘I love you’. Rising from his chair, he stretched his arms above his head. She tried not to stare. At the man who’d been closer to her than any other human on the planet, in every way except one. The one she wanted most.
He crossed around their desks, sitting on the corner of Olivia’s. “What’ve you got?”
“This case is mostly closed. Munch and Fin are bringing in the suspect now. None of his alibi’s checked out. Apparently, he‘s not well liked enough to warrant lying for.”
Elliot nodded, processing the information. She could see the beginnings of a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. He leaned in a bit closer, blue eyes twinkling. “So, I hear I have a doppelganger. What’s he like? Anything like me?”
“He’s nothing like you,” her eyes remained on her notes. She didn’t want to think about Keller or the thoughts that Keller reminded her of. Thoughts, feelings, emotions she’d kept buried only to have resurrected over and over again.
Elliot leaned in a little closer. She could smell his cologne. Something the twin’s had given him for his birthday. He smelled clean, of soap and shampoo, of cologne and aftershave. The essence of Elliot. It should have been nothing at all. But, to Olivia, it was a razor’s edge pulled from the fire and stabbed deep in her gut, enflaming her insides.
He leaned back, slightly disappointed in the lack of gossip from his partner. Munch would be a better source anyway. “Hey, tonight’s meatloaf night, you wanna come over?”
That was Elliot. Always looking out for her. When she appeared a little gaunt, there was an invitation to dinner. Or bags of food mysteriously appeared on her desk regardless of whether she was actually hungry. When she was tired, he’d tell her to get some sleep, offer to take some of her paperwork, or just do it.
He was her best friend, confidant, closer to her than any person she’d known. And in return, she often held him at arm’s length. Sometimes she bit, snapped, avoided, confronted. Anything to keep him from getting too close, to keep him from realizing that she’d fallen in love with a man she could never have.
“Nah, I’m fine. I’ve got alotta paper work to finish.”
**
Olivia continued peeling the label off her beer. It was warm, barely a swallow left but somehow she wasn’t ready for another one. She’d had her share for the evening. Had reached the point in the evening where a) she’d get blind stinking drunk or b) go home. Except, she didn’t want to do either.
Getting drunk made her depressed. Being depressed led to thoughts of Elliot. Going home meant being alone. Being alone led to thoughts of Elliot. She was damned either way. She downed the last of her drink. Might as well be drunk, she thought bitterly.
The bar wasn’t her usual haunt. Dark, dingy, with sad sacks in old Harley tee shirts. Pictures of cars, motorcycles and women in skimpy swimwear tacked to the walls.
“I’d ask what’s a woman like you doing in a place like this but I think you‘ve heard that one before.”
Olivia normally wouldn’t have paid the voice any mind. She wasn’t in the mood to be flirted with and any attempts would be met with the harshest of retorts. Something the other patrons immediately understood when she’d entered the bar. But the voice was familiar, too familiar. She turned towards him. Chris Keller stood, elbows on the bar leaning towards her. The familiar half smirk plastered on his face.
“I guess I could say the same to you.”
“What’re you having?”
“I can pay for my own,” Olivia sneered half-heartedly.
Keller shrugged, turning just a bit more towards Olivia. “Just trying to be a gentleman.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
The bartender came over. Chris flashed two fingers. “One for me and the lady.”
“I told you..”
“I know what you told me,” his eyes flashed, “there’s a pool table over there. I’ll tell you what, you beat me, you can pay for the beers.”
“And if you win?”
“I take you back to my place.”
**
When she had time to think, she’d think about what she was doing. Why she was standing in the middle of Chris Keller’s apartment. He was a killer. She’d read his rap sheet. How she’d missed his picture would be one of those niggling details that would probably haunt her for the rest of her life. By all rights, Keller should still be in prison. But, as the saying goes - justice is blind, in more ways than one.
Except, he was Elliot, in every way that counted. She stood in the center of his apartment. A single room efficiency. It was surprisingly clean. The walls were white. The rug an ugly shade of tan, but it had been spotlessly vacuumed. A small wooden table with a single chair sat in a joke of a dining room. In the center of the room, headboard pushed against the wall was a bed.
“Would you like something to drink?”
She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. He was standing right behind her. There was an inherent air of danger about him. She knew she didn’t fit the profile of his victims. She was female after all. But, the feeling was there nonetheless. Like she was being tested. Whether she’d flee or fight.
“I’m fine.”
Keller edged around her. Making his way towards the kitchen, in two steps, he opened the fridge pulling out a bottle of water. He twisted the cap, tossing it into the tiny waste basket before walking into the center of the room. They watched each other as he downed the drink, swallowing half the bottle before taking a breath.
“Who are you waiting for?” Olivia asked.
“What do you mean?”
“C’mon Keller, I’ve read your rap sheet. You’ve been on parole for six months. Never miss a meeting. Always call in. Your apartment. It’s spotless. A parolee doesn’t put on this kind of appearance unless it’s for someone.”
The half smile returned, “Maybe I’m waiting for the right woman.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t believe people can change?”
She didn’t answer. What ever ‘this’ was, it wasn’t about change. It was sex pure and simple.
“Who are you waiting for?” Keller began undressing. First the shoes, followed by his shirt, jeans. Keller went commando Olivia noted as she gave a quick glance. He turned towards Olivia, facing her in all his naked glory. “Who is it that you want standing here instead of me?”
He wasn’t Elliot. Every synapse in her brain screamed. But the rest of her responded other wise. Her feet, moving on their own, stepped towards him. Her hands moved towards his chest, ran across the smooth hardened pectorals.
He wasn’t Elliot. He was close enough. The blue eyes. The strong shoulders and even stronger hands. The pheromone scent of masculinity.
She watched his eyes. Watched him for a reaction as she examined him with her hands. Wanting to watch her fingers caress the sculpted body that had plagued her fantasies for years but not wanting to sever the eye contact with the man who was Elliot but not. Her hand moved downward, across the flat plain of his stomach. Felt the slight twitch in his stomach as she moved lower. Until she held his cock in her palm, already hardening under her touch.
“Who says I’m not here for you?”
He waited for her, like a cobra waiting to strike. He’d been waiting since the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. There’d been a guardedness about her. Of walls thought impenetrable. Keller was good at breaking walls.
What he didn’t expect was what he’d find behind those walls. She’d read him just as easily as he’d read her. He was attracted to her vulnerability, what he got in return, as Olivia planted her free hand behind his neck and yanked him towards her, was strength.
Olivia kissed like a guy. Fuck caution. Fuck decorum. Fuck romance. Her lips were soft, but she was strong, forceful, hungry. Her tongue demandingly jutted into his mouth. The fingers around his cock gripped harder. Until the blood pounded in his ears, until his hips were grinding of their own accord, thrusting into her fingers.
He moved a hand between them. Clumsily unfastened her belt, the zipper. Slid his hand between denim and skin. He wasn’t the only one who went commando.
They stood in the center of his tiny apartment, kissing, grunting, jacking each other in a game of sexual one-upmanship. Until the kisses turned harder, breathing more ragged. The thrusts of hips and fingers more urgent.
Keller came first. He grunted into Olivia’s mouth. Tried to maintain a sense of composure as stars formed behind his eyes and his legs turned to rubber. Kept his composure enough to return the favor. Jutted his hand forward, jerking two fingers inside Olivia hard enough to lift her with one hand.
She cried out as the spasms rocked her body. Hips jerking convulsively onto Keller’s hand. The need for release overtaking her need for control. Olivia leaned against Keller, gasping into his neck.
She stiffened slightly as she regained a semblance of composure. She’d almost cried out his name. Almost. For the smallest of moments, the feeling had been perfect. That it was Elliot inside her, taking her over the edge, filling the empty space in her soul.
“Who is he?” Keller whispered into her ear.
“You,” Olivia grunted as she clasped her mouth onto Keller’s again. It was a fantasy. She knew it in her bones. But who says dreams don’t come true? They worked on her clothes. Hands grabbing and pulling and yanking, anything to get them off fast enough. Shoes kicked into a corner. Shirt tossed onto the kitchen table. Jeans kicked off, flung into a corner.
Years of wanting, longing, desiring, emotions that had been bottled up seemed to explode from within her. She pushed Keller onto the bed, pouncing on him hungrily. She explored him with her mouth. From lips to neck and downward. Felt the hiss in his chest as she suckled a nipple. Marking him as much as he’d marked her. Felt the urgency in his fingers as they tangled in her hair pushing her lower.
Keller groaned as soft lips and warm mouth engulfed him in a vice-like grip that felt like heaven. Internally cursed himself at how long it had truly been. At how long he had waited only to succumb to temptation. But, succumb he did.
“Fuck,“ he grunted. She‘d pulled away. Taken those wonderful lips off his aching need. Keller lifted his head. Watched as Olivia clambered over him hurriedly. Strong arms reaching up, he wrapped them around her waist, rolling Olivia onto her back. There was no hesitation from Olivia. She opened herself to him. She was tight and wet, squeezing around him. He thrust forward, until their hips connected.
“Harder,” whispered heavily between parted full lips. And he gave it to her. Harder and faster. Slip, sliding. Push, pulling. Jutted forcefully into the wet heat squeezing around him. Until she was crying out on every thrust. Until they were grunting in tandem.
Keller hurriedly pulled out. Roughly turning Olivia over then pounced on her, taking her from behind. He shuddered at the sensation, at the images of someone else beneath him. All the months of wanting and waiting unleashed from within. And she gave as good as she got. Even after she came, squeezing around him so tight his head swan. As if fucking him would exorcise some demon deep within her. Even when his hands clasped around her wrists, his weight pinning her to the mattress, she pushed back onto him, always wanting more. Until his teeth dug into her shoulder. Until, at the moment of culmination, he thrust so hard, so deep, exploding within her as if his very soul were emptying inside her.
**
He was waiting for her when she exited the shower. Waiting in that way only Keller could. Still on the bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other casually stroking himself a cocky yet almost disinterested half-grin on his face, as if waiting for the inevitable.
“You leavin’?”
“Disappointed?” Olivia fired back, a tinge of antagonism in her voice.
He shrugged. Never once stopping his ministrations. His eyes darkened slightly. “What’s his name?”
“Why do you care?” She had to leave. Things were getting weird. She grabbed her shirt, yanking it over her head.
“Because,“ Keller rose onto his knees. He scooted across the mattress, moving towards her. She started to feel claustrophobic. The room was too damn small. Too hot. Keller was too damn close. Already, she could feel the heat from his body so close to hers. Could smell the scent of sex still lingering on his skin. Could see the rise in his pulse as it pulsated through his cock. His eyes gazing at her seductively. Making her wonder if he looked at his victims that way. With eyes that said ‘I want you. I need you. I’m going to use you, fuck you, kill you. And you’ll be begging for more every step of the way’.
It was easy to cross the line between fantasy and reality when her thoughts were clouded with alcohol. When she could blame her decisions on something other than her own repressed desire. Now, with the alcoholic haze lifted from her brain, all that was left was cold stark reality.
She’d fucked up.
She didn’t want to stop.
She wanted to stay in this room. With Elliot’s doppelganger. With nothing but sweat and skin between them. With his cock inside her, filling her, using her, punishing her, pounding the soul aching desire that had tormented her for far too long away.
His hands rested lightly on her bare hips, he tilted his head until his eyes were locked onto Olivia’s. So much like Elliot. Too much like Elliot. Nothing like Elliot. But close enough.
“Because it means something to you.”
“Like I said,” she couldn’t help resisting, “why do you care?”
“It don’t seem right,” his right hand slid over the swell of her hip. Moving across and lower, until his fingers parted her flesh, then dipped inside. His eyes never leaving her face, examining Olivia. “You and me, in love with people we can never have. Stuck with the only person who’d understand.”
At that moment, she understood why she’d come home with Chris Keller. Why she’d slept with a replacement, when all she wanted was the original. Keller was Elliot’s dangerous side personified. The one kept in check by Elliot’s morals, his ethics. With Keller it was all id and animus. Desire unchecked. She didn’t have to worry about hurting Elliot. Compromising him. Destroying him, or herself.
She gave in, to his desire, to hers. Straddling his hips, lowering herself until he was inside her once again. In this moment, in the tiny little room with no air conditioning, Olivia didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to compromise. She could be what she wanted, with who she wanted.
Even if he was only close enough.
END