ineffable: (adj.) unspeakable, incapable of being expressed through words (It is said that the experience of swimming with a dolphin is ineffable and can only be understood through direct encounter.)

Law and Order: SVU is the intellectual property of Dick Wolf. The use of the characters, settings, and plotlines is not malicious. This is a work of fiction.

"Come on," Olivia mumbled, toeing off her shoes in the corner of her living room. She struggled to find the light switch with her elbow as in her hands she balanced a paper bag filled with food she probably wouldn't eat. "Forget it," she huffed, receding, wandering blindly over to the couch. She let the greasy bag fall onto the coffee table, pulled her tee shirt over head, tossed it across the room, and plopped into the waiting cushion.

She fell back into the seat, sighing, letting her eyes close. She felt, then, something tugging at the strap of her tank top. She furrowed her brow as a small noise escaped her slightly smiling lips. "You are so lucky I'm too tired to reach for my gun."

The man, now trailing his fingers across the exposed skin of her neckline, let out a low laugh. "You wouldn't shoot me." He bent his head and let his lips linger on her smooth, tanned shoulder. "You wouldn't even aim at me," he said, puckering and dropping gentle kisses along the curve of her upper arm. He moaned, following the path her muscles gave him. She'd been hitting the gym, he noticed, and he shifted in his seat.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes still closed. She felt goose-bumps rising, her body begged for more of him, though she remained still in her spot.

"Rough day," he told her, his head now traveling into the crook of her neck. He kissed softly, twice, before darting out his tongue and licking a long, slow line toward the spot behind her ear. When she moaned a bit louder, he smirked to himself. "Tired?" he asked in a whisper before taking her earlobe into his mouth and sucking hard.

"God," she groaned, "No." It was a lie. She was fucking exhausted, but damn did he know exactly how to spark her last ounces of energy into motion.

He let her earlobe go, then traced the coil of her ear with his tongue, earning deeper moans from her. He knew this was one of her most sensitive spots, the first erogenous zone he had been lucky enough to find, almost a year ago.

"Shit," she seethed, her hips beginning to undulate of their own accord. "You're making me..."

"I know," his voice stopped hers. He grinned as he nibbled his way down her neck again, moving under her chin. "That's the idea, Detective."

Her hands flew to the back of his head. Her nails, short though they were, dug into his scalp and scratched circular patterns as he moved up, meeting her lips. They parted, granting him permission, access. It seemed, no matter how many times they kissed, it always felt as though it was the first instance.

The moment was always infinitesimal yet fleeting all at once. Hearts pounding to the same, syncopated rhythm. Mouths sealed, tongues exploring, breaths taken simultaneously though their noses only when suffocation had become a very real possibility. Their kisses, no matter where or when, were conversations. Unspoken words and emitted feelings, binding and connecting before being set free.

She was the first to pull away, as she usually was. "We shouldn't..." she started, but this attempt to gain moral ground, like every other, would be fruitless. She caught his eyes and blinked, unable to refuse the love and the lust set deep in them. "Not...not on the couch."

He let out an amused scoff before sinking to his knees and shoving the coffee table and Olivia's abandoned Chinese take-out to the left of him. He held her gaze, staring as deeply into her eyes as he could. He trickled his fingertips up to her sides and curled them into the waistband of her black slacks. As if asking permission, he froze and raised one eyebrow.

She held her breath and nodded, knowing the tightrope walk between right and wrong had been forfeited long ago. She watched him, his eyes still fixed on hers, and raised her hips for him as he pulled the pants down and off of her body.

He rose a bit higher, straining to kiss her again. He bit gently on her lower lip and tugged before kissing her hard again, his fingers playing with the elastic of her silk underwear. He breathed a few words against her lips as he ushered the material away from her skin, chuckling when she kicked them off on her own.

She rolled her eyes and bit her lip as soon as he pulled away; she knew exactly what was about to happen, and she knew there was nothing she could possibly do or say to make either of them want to stop now. She focused on his eyes again, and he on hers, as he dipped low between her legs and grinned like a fox.

He smoothed his palms over her bare knees, easing them apart a bit wider, exposing her to him. The sound that radiated from his throat must have built from somewhere low in his body, it was feral and wild. With darkened, narrow eyes, he bent his head. He spent several moments kissing her inner thighs, stroking the curves of her hips and legs with his hands. He felt her arching, silently begging. The scent of her arousal hit him, and he breathed her in deep before turning his head toward the source. He smiled, raised his eyes to hers again, and set off on his task to devour her completely.

Slow strokes, almost like a painter, up and down, over and over. He used his tongue like a quill pen, swirling secret messages and finishing with a flourish before punctuating each long lick with a nip of her clit. He suckled hard for a few moments, eased back, and started over, licking long lines from the lowest curve of her back to her clit again.

She was growing wetter, more eager, more desperate. She clutched the back of his head and tried to stay splayed for him, though the urge to clamp her thighs against his ears was intense. "Oh, my God," she cried, her breath beginning to stagger and quicken.

He hummed against her clit, then, and moved one hand, torturously slow, toward his working mouth. A single finger found its way to her slick pussy, and with a soft growl, he pushed it into her.

She arched her back and gasped sharply, her nails pressed harder into the back of his head, forcing his face tighter against her.

He moaned again, his eyes rolling back in sheer pleasure as she began to work with him. He licked, nipped, lapped at her, his finger twisting inside of her, and he could tell by the speed of her ragged breaths and soft cursing that she was close. All he needed tonight was this; he hadn't for a second worried about when he'd get his rocks off, his only mission was to make sure she flew to the moon and back tonight.

He moved his free hand to her stomach, feeling the clenching and twitching of her muscles beneath his open palm. He scraped his teeth over her clit twice before biting down and sucking directly on it, pushing another finger into her. He crooked and twisted his digits and flicked his tongue over her clit, faster and faster, matching the tempo of her breaths and squeaks.

"Oh, fucking, God," she cried, her back concaved and both hands gripped his head for dear life as she began to tremble.

He felt her convulsing, and he growled louder against her flesh as he licked slower, but thrust his fingers faster. This was his favorite part. The moment she exploded for him. Only for him.

Her head flew back and his name erupted from her, over and over as she twitched and vibrated.

He waited until the initial waves subsided, lapping at the remnants of her juices on her thighs. He slid up her body, his fingers still slowly working in and out of her, and he peered down at her flushed and dampened face. Without a second's hesitation, he kissed her fiercely.

She moaned and a shaking arm looped around his neck. She kissed him back eagerly as he brought a second orgasm to life in her.

He kissed her, holding her still, until he felt her tremors dissipate. He pulled back a bit, slipped his hand away from the sweet juncture of her legs, bringing his fingers to his lips, and one at a time he sucked them clean.

"What was..." she attempted breathlessly. "I thought you said..."

"You had a rough day," he told her, kissing her forehead. He worked his arms under her and lifted her up as he got to his feet. "You needed that, and fuck, Liv, you know I needed it, too." He carried her into the bedroom, laying her gently on the mattress. He gripped the cotton of her tank and pulled it off, over her head, and unclasped her bra.

She shook her way out of the undergarment as she watched him undress. Every muscle rippled as he moved and it made her ache for him even more. She held her breath when he unbuckled his belt and when his pants dropped to the carpet, she couldn't stop her moan.

"Guess you approve," he teased with a wink, slinking over her naked body. He nuzzled her nose lightly before kissing her again, slowly and sweetly. With one arm, he hoisted her off of the bed just enough for him to work the comforter to the side, then lowered her back down.

She kissed his chest as he reached over her to turn off the lamp, and when he settled to her side and pulled her close, she let out a contented sigh.

There were a few more soft kisses as they tangled their limbs, relishing in the intimacy they had only ever found with each other. It was a long, tender silence, until she exhaled and spoke. "El?"

He hummed.

"I'm very comfortable, and I hate like hell to ask you to move..." she felt the whining rumble in his chest and she laughed. "You didn't let me eat! I'm starving."

He chuckled and gave her a sigh of his own. "Fine," he complained, rolling over and turning the light back on. He tossed the covers off and got out of the bed, padding around the room in all his naked glory, knowing she would be staring at him as he did so. "Be right back," he told her, kissing her cheek and then heading into the living room to grab the paper bag.

He was right. She did stare at him, hungrily and thankfully. She sat up and stretched, exhaling, and the reality of her life set back in. Things she didn't truly feel like dealing with soared to the forefront of her mind. She chewed on her bottom lip as she shot a glance at the clock. "One thirty," she said to herself, just as Elliot ambled back into the bedroom. She grinned, a different sort of hunger consuming her. "Fuck it," she thought, pushing the doubts and misgivings aside. Whatever they were, she decided, they would have to wait.

Peace and Love,

Jo