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“And then she— oh fuck right there.” Olivia lets out a gravely moan and relaxes further. Her head tips back and then there’s lips brushing her skin, a slight grin forming, clearly pleased with her reaction.
“And then she what, Liv?” His voice is as low as the gravel of her moan.
She wants to swear, she wants to scold him for how easily he’s already distracted her from the wound-up angry feeling she’d come home with. After her dinner with Chief Tynan, she’d stepped into her apartment (cleaned up to basically military tidiness by Elliot in her absence) with the tension radiating off of her. Somehow slipping off her shoes, her blazer, and being offered wine almost immediately hadn't seemed to take the edge off.
But after the glass of wine had been drained, and she’d checked on Noah, bid him goodnight, she'd found her pajamas laid out on the bed, warm from a quick tumble in the dryer. She hadn’t said a word, changed, tugged her hair into a ponytail before doing her nightly skincare. She came back out of her ensuite to Elliot sitting towards the end of the bed, one leg hanging off it.
“What?” She asked.
“I think I know what might help,” Elliot patted the space in front of him.
“But you’re wearing clothes,” she quipped.
Elliot rolled his eyes and patted the space on the bed again. “C’mon. Sit, relax, tell me about what happened and I’ll take it from here.”
So now she’s gently swaying into him with every move, every pinch and knead at the tense muscle of her shoulders. He knows that she could handle deep pressure and then some, it's the only way to make her actually feel relaxed. They’re still both clothed, for now, so they don’t get carried away before she actually exorcises all the feelings her dinner with Tynan had brought forth.
Other than her penchant for field work and her son, The Chief had asked her about the ethos of sticking with SVU, why she’d stuck around this particular unit for so long and not even hopped boroughs, and had gently reminded her that yes, she’d received her and Elliot’s disclosure paperwork the week before.
“She’s really laying it on thick about this Deputy Chief thing. Says I’m in the field too much.” She groans. “But it’s where– fuck– it’s where I’m needed.” And God, his hands were right where she needed. She feels him move from her shoulders down the knobs of her spine before swiping back up to dig into her shoulder blade. She’d been giving them a fair shake for the past five months, and if she knew just how good of a masseuse Elliot could be, she would’ve let him in for that reason alone a long time ago.
So she supposes he’s earned his keep.
Elliot shrugs and squeezes her trap muscle until the knot there slowly releases. “If she’s worried about us older NYPD cops in the field, I’m sure she’d have a field day with me.”
Olivia balks. “Yeah, she definitely doesn’t pity your Chief of D’s.”
And then there’s a particularly sharp pinch on her trap and Olivia yelps.
“Hey! I thought you were supposed to be giving me a romantic massage!”
“Then don’t bully your masseuse." Elliot pinches again, lighter this time.
“That’s not bullying,” she counters. “Bullying would be making fun of your baldness.”
“I can stop.” Elliot starts to lessen the pressure on her trap muscles.
Olivia reaches up to keep his hand there. “No, please, I take it back!” She laughs and feels one of his hands drift from her shoulders to her sides and tickles her playfully then pinch the skin just below her ribs.
“Do you promise?” He asks.
“Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t done complaining and so that means you’re not done massaging anyways.”
Elliot makes a noise of agreement before his hands move down her spine again, pressing into her flesh. “Continue.”
“I really just cannot escape how… hands on this woman is because I play politics with her and then I have to turn around and deal with that new detective she sent over.”
“He still a piece of work? Rough around the edges? Bull in a China shop?” He lists off as he swipes his hands up and down her arms before moving back up to massage her shoulders.
“All of the above. He and Bruno got into it and I told him to ‘cool his jets’ I don’t think I’ve had to use that with anyone other than Noah. It’s getting insufferable.” Olivia’s head lolls to the side. “God, were you a masseuse in a past life?”
Elliot hums against her hair. “Didn’t you say that he reminded you of someone?” He teases.
Olivia stops sinking into the massage when she feels another smile against her hair. “Bastard!”
“Gonna write me a rip, Captain?” His lips move to her ear. She can’t see him but she knows he’s got that smug son-of-a-bitch smile she now has the privilege of kissing off his face. She rolls her eyes, half tempted to elbow him but she doesn’t want the massage to end just yet.
“What if I did, Detective?” She murmurs in reply.
“Might be seen as a conflict of interest now that we’ve disclosed.” He presses a kiss to the shell of her ear and buries his nose in the crook of her neck. “Kinda love that.”
Warmth blooms within her, the ridiculous thought of yes, Benson and Stabler are together, NYPD’s prying eyes! Sometimes it made her anxious, sometimes she waited for the other shoe to drop. But then there’s times like this, where she sheds every part of her armor she wears every day and can just be Olivia. Elliot holds everything she’s felt weary by carrying alone for 57 years and the fear of giving up a part of herself to let someone, let him do that, does come like she expected. When he presses a kiss to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, she sags back against his chest again and feels his heartbeat at her back. Elliot’s arms come around her, criss-crossing over her front.
“I kinda love that, too.” She presses a kiss to his bicep before tipping her head back. “Kinda love you, too.”
“Kinda?” There’s no real insecurity in his eyes, she can see that, instead she finds mischief.
“Alright, I do love you.” She presses her lips to his, and they both taste like their preferred toothpaste. There’s a hint of whiskey in his kiss and she knows there’s a hint of wine in hers. Elliot’s hands drift down to her waist and gently turn in his arms. She goes willingly, settling herself in his lap as she wraps her arms around his neck.
She presses him into the bed as they continue kisses and his hands run up and down her spine in a touch that’s somehow soothing and erotic at the same time. She feels his hand drift up and pluck the elastic from her hair and it curtains their faces as it falls. Olivia smiles against his lips, cupping his jaw, swiping her thumb across his cheekbone.
“Can we move on to something else that will definitely help me relax?”
Elliot laughs, hands slipping underneath the hem of her sleep shirt. “Always.”