Chapter Text
Taking it slow is their shared instinct.
After all it's been months, years, actual decades of it. Holding back and holding strong. The two of them walking that tightrope in silent parallel. Knowing if they reached out to one another, held on to each other, they’d come crashing down. Their partnership a precious and painful balancing act. Since Elliot’s second return they have remained high above, though their reasons are different.
They know what they want. Now it's just a matter of not fucking it all up. They have to get it right.
So that's what they're doing. Again. Taking It Slow. Because of all they have and haven’t been through. Their almosts and their avalanches. Not to mention neither of them is particularly proud of their last sexual partner. They spend time with each others kids and say those three words and call to say goodnight. Hands above the waist and kisses hello. They circle a relationship with this mastered delicacy.
Tonight, the kids are busied and the work phones are off. Eli has been going on about Ted Lasso so they cue it up and order Chinese. Olivia is opening containers and Elliot is pouring red wine. It’s a familiar duet in the kitchen, the two of them orbiting each other in the late afternoon light. Divine and comfortable. When their arms brush he gives her shoulder a peck. Finds her lips for another. Hesitates. They hover inches apart, lingering in the space where their heartbeats meet
That’s it.
All the steps, the conversations and prudence and timelines, are forgotten. Their fuse is lit.
It’s not that they hadn’t kissed yet. But they’d always been interrupted. By a ringing phone or a voice down the hall or Bernie clearing her throat. All the little parts of a life helping them tow that line. Now, it’s finally just them and finally finally there is no reason to stop. A rough palm on her cheek, Olivia lets their teeth clash and Elliot groans. Lifts his other hand to bring her impossibly closer.
It feels so ludicrously good not to hold back. To follow this forever instinct. She can’t believe how long she went without it. Hands inside his t-shirt, she rakes them up his sides and Elliot reacts as if electrocuted.
It stills them. Air lost and foreheads resting.
“Do— “
She swallows, already nodding. “Yeah.”
“Liv —
“I said — “
“Nah. I gotta ask, Olivia. You gotta let me ask,” eyes on hers and voice barely above a whisper, “Do you want this?”
It’s almost fucking rude of him to make her say it out loud. Do you want this. If he were anyone else on the planet she would think it was a game, some play for his ego. Almost 25 years later and they’re making out like teenagers and do you want this.
But it’s not anyone else, it’s Elliot. Of course he needs to hear it.
“Yeah, El. I want this. Do you?”
With a shake of his head he chuckles, dark and predatory, before wrapping his hand around her neck to pull her in with more heat. This time he’s all hands, everywhere. Hands under the hem of her shirt, big calloused palms spread against goosebumps. Hands to the small of her back to hold her against him. Hands on her hips, her waist, her breasts, her ass.
And then he falls to his knees before her. Looks up. It brings Olivia back that September night but now, as his fingers thread through her loose waves, his eyes are clear. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip and they both take in a sharp breath as he slips it in her mouth. Catches her tongue. It’s…too intimate. She misses the urgency of moments ago. Can’t settle into this hush. There’s no hiding here in the blare of heavy breath and rustling clothing.
Hand under the waist of her leggings, Elliot gives a cheek a squeeze. Draws them over the slope of her hips and past her ankles. She watches with hooded eyes as he bows his head to her rise of her belly. Exhales.
While he seems to be in no particular rush Olivia needs something. Needs more. Elliot kisses the inside of her thigh and rests his cheek there as he holds her gaze. Stare steady with intention like he’s about to dismantle her. Nails up and down her legs as he waits for her to make the call.
She hears the sound of her own voice, raw and thick. “Please.”
So he tugs her underwear to the side and slides a finger inside her, watches for her reaction and adds a second. She sways then steadies. Rides his hand. He stretches her with a third and her mouth drops open, whimpering at the fullness of him.
Just as she’s tuned he grabs her by the ass to pull her flush against his mouth. And almost immediately it’s too much because it’s him. It’s his tongue flat against her folds. It’s his nose nudging against her before sucking at her clit. It’s his shoulder her leg is slung over. It briefly occurs to her that this is a decent way to break another ankle but it doesn’t matter. Her hands clench and brace the back of his skull. The pressure builds and she twists above him. Back like a bow. Frustrated and a little wary.
Sensing her restraint, Elliot rumbles against her core, “C’mon. I got you, Liv.”
Olivia’s knees falter. Pressing her down by the hips, he devours her. Relentless until she’s cursing his name and hurtling towards the edge. His voice is suddenly in her ear, encouraging and demanding, as he circles her center. Legs crumbling, she cries out. Sinks into his arms.
The two of them fall tangled up on the kitchen floor.
Face buried in his shoulder, sweaty hair sticking to his chin, Elliot makes lazy patterns on her arms. He’s following her lead but her body is still humming. Still starved for him. She hasn’t quite caught her breath but finds his lips and pulls him in for another kiss.
Elliot takes the hint and scoops her right back up. Clumsy but sure. Olivia yelps and something like joy tugs as his expression as she wraps her legs around his waist. As they stumble through his apartment he knocks into the threshold of his room. She mumbles into his mouth, “Alright we get it you’re very strong but I’m too old for this and so are you —“
He snickers as he hauls her higher just for show, “’S that right?”
The man is arrogant as hell but the truth is they are wrapped around each other like vines. Elliot is solid and whole and she feels safe. She tugs his shirt off just as he drops her on his bed.
Resting back on her elbows, she gives herself the luxury of looking at him unabashedly. During their partnership she saw Elliot shirtless countless times. Most people have seen Elliot shirtless. And there is no missing how powerful and carved he’d become in their time apart. She doesn’t hide her appreciation for it as he shrugs his pants off and crawls over her, hungry and slow.
But Olivia sits up. Elliot seems caught off guard, raising his hands in the air. Clearly worried she’s about to bolt. Instead, she brings her own shirt over her head. Snaps off her bra. Sits with knees folded and meets his gaze. It’s plain, open. There’s no flourish to this. Realization washes across his features and she lifts her chin.
Frankly, Olivia hasn’t been looking forward to this part. She never does. The obligatory big reveal to a new lover. Sharing her own body’s memorial of her painful history. The way the story of those ugly marks weigh down sex. How her tattered canvas halts any impulsiveness every damn time. And sure, she’s gotten used to them over the years, but she still has some vanity. And this is Elliot.
But this is Elliot and he faces her, eyes misty with affection. Takes her in fully. Then he’s holding her. Mapping his lips across her brutal scars, his tongue tracing them one-by-one with reverence. Turning those graves to gold. Teeth nipping at the in betweens as he lays her down and stretches her across the bed. Her skin goes molten as he murmurs beautiful things into the burns, thumbs circling at her hip bones.
When he’s done he takes her wrists and pins them above her. Blue eyes glowing. “You’re…” He drags his other hand down between her breasts, dipping over her waist and squeezing her soft hips as she arches her back. It feels like a surrender and her breath hitches. Shaking his head in disbelief, he clears his throat. “Beautiful. You’re beautiful. I can’t believe it.”
Believe what? she almost asks. But he’s leaning back in and she’s gotta regain some control. So she twists out of his grip to claim his muscled self, making his brawn flex and ripple beneath her touch. “Jesus Christ,” she whispers to herself. He chuckles smugly at her awe and it’s her cue to put him in his place. When she pulls him out of his briefs his jaw immediately locks, nostrils flaring with focus. Hisses when she pumps him, falters as she circles his tip. Olivia cranes her neck to take his upper lip between her teeth.
Both of them understand it to be permission. Nod.
Elliot slides inside of her and they lock eyes to share in the shock. It’s nearly violent in it’s intensity. One of them lets out a pained sound. His brow furrows and it’s a comfort that he’s as affected by the reality of this. The cloud to ground might of it. Reaching up to his forehead, she rubs the wrinkle clean with her thumb. It tears him out of their daze.
“El,” her voice crackles, “Move.”
He does just that. Moves with trained fury and she tugs him closer so he’s covering her body like a shield. He growls at the shift. Drops to his forearms and brings his palms up to frame her face. Tangles his fingers in her matted hair. She clings to his wrists as an anchor.
It’s still engulfing. It’s still not enough. Elliot must feel the same way because he wraps an arm around her, pulls her up into into his lap. Olivia sinks down on top him with a sigh. He’s somehow deeper and she curls forward with a shudder. He waits as she adjusts to the position, to all of it. To Elliot under her and inside of her. Two noses brush. Four hands seek in disbelief. Slower now, deliberate and greedy. As if trying to leave their fingerprints everywhere. Elliot brushes the hair from her face with both hands and smiles. It’s oddly sweet given the fact that they’re fucking and she mirrors it. He gives her a quick kiss.
She starts rolling her hips, breasts pressed against his ludicrous wall of a chest. Elliot guides her along as his gaze roams her face and tits and mouth.
“That’s it baby,” and God that pet name is not going to fly but before she can say something his tongue swipes her nipple. She throws her head back on a cry. Elliot grabs a fist full of her hair, snakes it around his fist like a rope, tilting her to meet his eyes as he picks up his pace. Thrusts up into her deep and desperate and she lets out something primal. Jaw clenched, he reaches between them to stroke her clit.
She falls apart. Tongue against the hollow of his throat, nails digging into his back. Sometime soon after Elliot is calling her name.
Their bones go slack. Their blood slows. Limbs twitching and skin flushed, they come to. Elliot trails soft kisses around her face. Stays inside her as they lay down. Minutes pass in silence with legs intertwined in the damp sheets. It's only then she notices the sun has fully set.
Olivia is tired and entirely overwhelmed, but looks for something to say. “That — “
“I love you.” Surprised by the sudden confession, she tilts up to find his eyes. They’ve said it before but there’s a specific determination to his words. His voice worn but purposeful. “Shoulda said that…before. Earlier. But I do. I love you so much. Need you to know.”
She’s not sure where it came from. What or when, exactly, he means by earlier. But tonight she knows. She kisses the inside of his elbow.
They drift.
And then Olivia’s eyes snap open in the dark.
The older she gets the more this happens. Sleep is wispy and distant, always fading in the horizon. Glancing at the clock she sees it’s just past midnight. Even so, she's fresh from the kind of unclouded rest she hasn’t had in years.
She must have turned away in the night. Elliot lays on his back with one arm flung his stomach, the other still stretched out towards her. His chest rising and falling. It’s so known. All those nights in the crib, dreaming from a distance in their twin beds like kids. If she weren’t naked and sore she could convince herself it was twenty years ago. She reaches out to his open palm and ghosts his fingertips.
And, suddenly, the invisible thing rushes in. Smothers her like a heavy cloak.
It takes her by the throat and fills her lungs with smoke.
Pressing a hand to her chest, Olivia feels her pulse hammer wild and panicked. She tries to breathe through it. Tells her brain it knows what this is, that there is a beginning and an end. Hunts for anything real to see or touch or hear.
But Elliot’s bed is quicksand. The sheets are barbed wire. The light is dissolving. She looks to him snoring in peace, the space between them seeming to stretch on infinitely.
Her heart could burst through her ribs, crack her open. She could bleed out right here.
Olivia slips out of bed. Finds her feet. Grabbing a hoodie slung over a chair, she escapes both quiet and quick.