a/n: I don't even know what this is, so don't even ask, lol. It's definitely NSFW though. I think I just needed them to have this moment, no questions asked. Anyway, here it is in all its glory.

Olivia's Apartment

October 2020

Night

Her heart is pounding.

The metallic clatter of a billy club dragging along chain link reverberates in her ears, forcing chills up the length of her spine.

It's happening again. The dream.

The nightmare.

Hot metal presses into her skin, searing her flesh, scarring her. She tries to cry out, but she's suffocating, choking against the liquid burn of pure grain alcohol.

She can't breathe. She gags, coughs, gasps desperately for air.

She feels the hands on her, and they hurt somewhere deeper than her skin.

No. She whimpers against the onslaught. Not again.

"Olivia," she hears her partner's voice coming softly from the darkness just behind her, and her heart rate slows automatically. She can only hear his breathing now, and the sharp sting against her skin has receded. She takes a deep breath, and then another, finally managing to drag some air into her lungs.

The bed creaks, the mattress dips, and his hand slips over her bare hip. His fingers curl forward over the rounded slope of bone and flesh, pressing into the crease above her thigh and pulling her backward until she settles against him. His skin is hot against hers, his thighs and torso bare against the naked expanse of her back. His strong arms band tightly around her upper body, and his knees fill the spaces behind hers. He curls forward around her until she is tucked into a tight ball, her body completely encompassed by his.

Elliot.

His stubble scrapes along the curve of her shoulder and catches slightly in the ends of her hair as he tucks his chin into the curve of her neck. "I'm here," his voice rumbles lowly, stroking her ear with the heat and moisture of his breath. "I've got you, Liv," he whispers.

When she flexes her toes in response to the shiver that runs through her, her smooth calves rub along the length of his, his fine hairs dragging along her sensitive skin. Her nipples rise into firm peaks against the inside of his left forearm, and he slides his hand down until he's cupping her right breast. His touch is protective, possessive, and it has her arching into his hand and shifting her hips back against him, instinctively, as his palm scrapes over her tender peak.

Her tailbone presses into his abs, and she feels him, already semi-hard, pressed between the cheeks of her ass. His fingertips play over her nipple, rolling and plucking at the firm bit of flesh until her left hand flies up to grasp his wrist and her head tilts backward, sharply, over his shoulder. His lips travel down from her ear and press against the skin of her throat. His mouth slides open, and his tongue is hot and wet on her skin. She moans at the contact and bites her lip, digging her nails into his wrist where she holds it clutched to her breast.

Her hips move against his again, seeking more contact with his hard length. She feels his right hand slip forward in response, leaving the little dip between her hip and pubic bone to travel down the front of her thigh. When his hand is just south of her center, his fingers slip inward, curling around her inner thigh and gripping her there, firmly. He lifts her leg easily, and his thigh presses forward to rest between hers. The change in position has his tip brushing against her folds, briefly, and she throws her right arm up over her head in response, searching for his back and finding the back of his head instead. Her fingertips press into his scalp as she rocks her hips forward and back, grinding against him helplessly, now. Forward, her center rubbing against the firm musculature of his thigh, and back, her ass pressing against the steely length of him.

He squeezes her outer thigh with his right hand, before snaking it down between her legs. He doesn't waste any time. His blunt fingers part her folds and immediately take up a rhythm against her slick heat. He reads her body like sheet music. He is a fucking prodigy when it comes to her.

She wants to feel him inside her but his fingers dance over her most sensitive parts again and again, never quite getting close enough to slip inside. She's sweating now, her back sliding along his chest and abdomen with every flex of her hips. But she needs...she needs….

She lets go of a single frustrated whimper.

He knows what she needs, and he gives it to her just like he always does.

Removing his hand from between her legs, he quickly hooks his elbow behind her right knee and hoists it upward, shoving his chest against her back and rolling them both forward at the same time, until her belly is pressed flat against the mattress and his weight rests against her back. He uses his thigh to shift her left leg to the side, and then he's pushing into her, and it's fucking fantastic. She presses her face into her pillow to muffle the moan that's forced up and out of her when he's all the way inside.

His left hand leaves her breast, and he drags his arm out from under her body and uses it to brace himself as he sets up a rhythm against her. His ass flexes and releases, his glutes propelling him into her over and over, in and out. She can hear them, and smell them, and it's familiar and perfect. And when his cock drags over that spot deep inside her, she feels her legs start to shake in anticipation. He does it again and again, until her thighs quiver and sweat pools behind her knees. She's almost crying now with the need for release, but he doesn't reach forward to touch her again. He makes her wait for it, makes her ride it out with him, feeling the delicious drag of his cock deep inside her until finally she feels his rhythm start to slip.

It's his impending orgasm that triggers her own. It's the sound of him choking back a moan, the feel of him losing control, slamming into her harder, wilder, that finally sends her over the edge. Her toes curl, her abdomen clenches, and everything inside of her clamps down around him. She cries out her relief into the pillow, biting down on it to keep from screaming his name. "Fuck, Liv," he growls into the nape of her neck as his hips slam into her ass a few more times before he stiffens against her back. She feels his heat flood deep inside her, and he grunts into the soft waves of her hair in response as she clenches wetly around him, still riding out the last of her orgasm.

She wakes up face down in her bed, one hand fisting her bedsheet and the other buried between her legs, still coming down from a powerful orgasm.

She's sweating and throbbing, and she feels like crying.

Somewhere along the way she's traded one form of torture for another. A nightmare that wrecks her, for a dream that leaves her completely wrecked. Both cause her grief, but in the end, one will drive her from her bed, while the other will exhaust her, allowing her to sleep soundly for the rest of the night.

In a way, after all this time, he's still got her back, she thinks, ironically.

The thought is equal parts comforting and disturbing.

She hasn't had this particular dream in awhile, but she knows the news she got earlier today has somehow manifested it. She rolls over until she's supine, stretching out her arms and legs and staring up at the ceiling of her dark bedroom.

She knows the dream won't bring her sleep tonight, earth shattering orgasm or not. She's surprised she even managed to fall asleep in the first place, because she found out today that he's back...

Elliot's back.