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It was hard to get buy-in from Noah these days when it came to things like holiday traditions. He was a good kid, and she knew he loved her, but it felt increasingly less likely that he was willing to humor her. He’d still wanted to trick or treat, but on his own with his friends. He’d agreed to help make the stuffing on Thanksgiving, but he’d grumbled the entire time. He was standing in the kitchen with her while “they” made cookies, but he was far more interested in his phone than making treats for Santa.
“Noah,” she said, snapping him out of his screen-induced trance. “Your gingerbread men are looking more like blobs than people. Are you even watching what you’re doing?”
He at least had the decency to look guilty, but she wasn’t sure how much of that was for show. “Sorry.” He put his phone on an oven mitt and moved on to the next cookie.
It had been a while since they’d baked together like this– years, probably– but Olivia was feeling nostalgic. She was watching her life fly by. Her son was growing too fast. Meanwhile, her body was acquiring more aches and pains by the day. All of it made her realize that she needed to take a beat. She wanted to slow things down, even if just for a single evening, and hold onto her son, because before she knew it, he would be leaving home to start his own life. So she was leaning into Christmas traditions this year but her son seemed to have other plans.
“Noah!” she chastised. “Seriously. What is so important?”
“Sorry, it’s just…”
“What?” She’d lost her patience but he stood there in front of her with a look on his face like he was afraid to say what was on his mind. So she waited. If there was anything she was good at in this life, it was getting information out of people who didn’t want to share it.
After ten, maybe fifteen seconds he let out a sigh. “Caden asked the group chat if we could come over for a movie night.”
“Like the one we were planning on having?” she asked with sarcasm that was born of her frustration.
“Well…” He shrugged. “Yeah I guess. They’re trying to decide on a movie.”
The oven timer went off and Olivia grabbed an oven mitt. Heat slammed her in the face as she removed the pan of not-quite-perfect gingerbread men. She knew Noah wanted to go to his friend’s house. She could tell he was afraid to ask and was hoping she would understand, but she was hurt. She’d actually found a moment of time in her busy schedule to have a festive night with her son and he was desperate to leave.
But she understood. She remembered what it was like to be an age where friends were everything.
“Noah,” she started, but she was interrupted by three sharp knocks on the apartment door. Her son’s eyebrows raised and Olivia just shrugged. She hadn’t been expecting anyone, but they both knew that knock.
She hadn’t even made it to the door yet, but she could feel herself breathing easier. It was always like this– like everything was right in the world. In order. The way it should be. She glanced through the peephole– more out of formality than because of any actual concern– and pulled the door open.
“Wasn’t expecting you,” she said when she caught Elliot’s casual smile.
“Got back in town a few hours ago,” he said, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “Debriefed with Bell, checked in with the kids and Mama, and headed here.”
Olivia pulled the door wide so he could step over the threshold and into the apartment. “Glad you did. I don’t think Noah is going to make it through our baking night.”
Elliot gave her a questioning look.
“His friends are making plans,” she said as they walked down toward the kitchen. “I give it five more minutes– ten tops– before he’s asking to leave.”
“Ah.”
He followed her to the kitchen where they found Noah standing stock still in the middle of the kitchen, face in his cell phone, completely unaware of his surroundings.
“Glad you aren’t in charge of the oven,” she said, walking around him while he blinked himself back to consciousness.
“Hey, kid,” Elliot said. “Got somewhere else to be?”
When Noah didn’t answer, Olivia looked over her shoulder. She met her son’s eyes and saw how guilty he looked.
“Mom and I are going to watch Elf,” he said in a small voice.
“But…” Elliot prompted.
Noah looked back at Olivia. “My friends are having a movie night too.”
“What’d your mom say?”
The guilty look on Noah’s face was shifting into actual distress under Elliot’s scrutiny.
“El,” she said softly, calling him off. “Noah, it’s fine. Just text me when you get there. And don’t stay out all night. I want you home as soon as the movie’s over.”
“Mom,” he whined.
“I can always send Elliot to pick you up.”
“That’s okay,” Noah said. He held up his hands in surrender and scampered off to his room.
“Teenagers are fun,” Elliot said with a smile and Olivia let out a dry laugh.
“That’s one thing you could call it.”
He walked around the counter, coming to stand close to her, well within her personal space. “Need a baking assistant?”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I know you learned some things in Rome. You telling me you became a baker too?”
“Are you telling me you’ve learned how to make cookies without burning them?” he shot back.
His head was tipped down and she could feel the tickle of his breath against her skin. It was truly amazing how talking about cookies– or anything really– could easily turn heated when she was with him. That thing between them, the spark, was always there, ready to come out at any moment.
“I’m leaving,” Noah said as he blew through the kitchen. She and Elliot barely shifted away from each other as Noah came to give her a hug. He paid them no mind, which was a lot nicer than the eye rolls that she was used to receiving when Elliot was around.
“Text me when you get there.”
“Okay.”
“And come right home after the movie.”
“I know,” he said in a whine while he stuffed his arms in his jacket.
“Or Elliot’s—”
“Mom,” he said, turning back to face her. “I know. I’ll see you later.”
She gave him a smile and he was out the door. She looked at Elliot, who was still so close to her side that they were practically touching, and shrugged.
“He loves you, Liv,” he said, reading her mind. “He’s just not a baby anymore.”
She let out a sigh. “Glad you’re here. I don’t even like making cookies.”
Elliot’s laugh was sharp and loud. He stepped away from her, walking to the fridge and peering inside. “Beer or wine?”
“Whichever you prefer.”
She kept his favorites stocked in her fridge the same way there were a couple of bottles of her preferred cab on his kitchen counter. It was easy, the dance they were doing these days. They still left most things unspoken, but they looked out for each other. It was like the old days– guns raised, watching one another’s backs, only now it was more emotional, providing an end to loneliness, companionship when it felt like no one else would understand what they’d been through. It was making sure that the other was fed, cared for. Seen.
Elliot handed her a beer and picked up the pan of gingerbread men she’d just finished. He moved around her, his hip brushing against hers as he took them to the oven. She sipped from her beer and watched him, bent at the waist, carefully sliding the pan onto the rack.
“I know you’re staring, Captain.”
“You know nothing of the sort.”
“Mmhmm,” Elliot hummed as he came to stand in front of her. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter. There was something so settled about him in this stage of life. He was calmer– at least in moments like this– comfortable in his own skin and in her presence. They still had their struggles– his aging mother, her teenage son, and stressful jobs for them both– but he’d seemed to find balance over the past few years. When there were moments of calm, Elliot leaned in.
“How many more of these do we have to do?” he asked. “You making enough to feed the entire NYPD?”
“You have somewhere to be, Detective?”
Elliot smirked and shrugged his shoulders as he stood up straight. “Elf is one of my favorites, and you’ve got a comfortable couch.”
He left his beer on the counter and walked around to her side, his hand finding her hip, his head tipping low toward her neck. She inhaled deeply as his nose nuzzled her skin. “You know I love that couch.”
What she knew was that they should be smarter when they were together, what with a teenager who lived in this apartment. They were old enough to receive AARP cards, and yet they’d spent more than one evening on that couch, watching a movie with wandering hands and stolen kisses.
“I didn’t set a timer,” she whispered as she felt Elliot’s tongue slide across her pulse point. “And there’s more dough. And the dishes.”
“We’ve got a few hours,” he said, his voice low and gruff. This thing between them was new enough that the butterflies still flew in her stomach, but practiced enough that being with him like this felt as normal as breathing.
“How long do they…” he asked, not bothering to finish his question. Her skin was covered in goosebumps as his lips traveled and she tried to gather her thoughts.
“Uh, they take… I think… Five… Elliot, the cookies.”
He stepped back, but not before giving her ass a squeeze. He was smirking, sexy and playful. “Make the last batch. I’ll clean. Then couch.”
She gave her head a shake and reached for the rolling pin and began smoothing out the last of the dough. “You know, I have a bed.”
“Yes,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “I am familiar. No movie?”
“Elliot, I’d rather not have Will Ferrell singing in a store while we…”
“While we…” He was making that face where he was trying to hold in a smile but his cheeks and ears were pink, giving him away to anyone with half-decent eye sight. “While we what, Olivia?”
A thrill ran through her body at the sound of her full name on his lips. He was the one responsible for the world referring to her as Liv. He still mostly used her nickname– or Captain, if he was angry… or playful– but Olivia was reserved for moments like this, when it was just the two of them and they both knew what was coming next. It was intimate.
She knew he was waiting for her answer– daring her to say out loud that they were sleeping together, which they were, but still. Actually saying it felt… vulnerable.
She let out a sigh and shrugged, her lips silent but pulled into a smile.
“No one would believe me,” he said, shaking his head, “if I told them the renowned captain of the Manhattan Special Victims Unit is afraid to talk about sex.”
“I’m not afraid to talk about sex, Elliot,” she said with an instant need to defend herself.
“Then why can’t you say it?” he asked. “That we both know what’s going to happen after these cookies are done? Why can’t you say that we are going to go in your bedroom where I am going to slowly take off all your clothes, run my tongue all over your body, and make you come… probably more than once.”
Olivia could feel the heat in her cheeks, but she wasn’t about to back down. Because that wasn’t what they did. They met each other toe to toe, two strong, immovable forces who were good at this dance.
“Is that true?” she asked. “You seem awfully confident in your abilities.”
“I am. And don’t deflect,” he said, nodding his head toward the dough that she’d absentmindedly stopped cutting out. “Do you need me to do that?”
Olivia rolled her eyes and got back to work on the cookies. She was happy– happier than she’d been in a very long time– but a relationship with Elliot felt fragile. He wasn’t just some guy. Sometimes she thought it was easier to just live minute to minute, enjoying what they had– what they were doing– than it was to really focus on what it meant and what came next.
“Anyway,” she said. “The things that we’ve talked about– seen… It would be impossible for me to be afraid of talking about sex.”
“Then why won’t you?”
“What do you want from me, El?” she asked, tossing her hands in the air before punching out the last gingerbread man.
She felt him move, knew what he would do before he did it. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face in the crook of her neck. She was starting to think of that as his spot since he so often sought comfort by snuggling into her. Breathing her in.
“I want you to be comfortable with me,” he said. “With us.”
“I am comfortable with you. I’m in my oldest sweatpants, which are covered in flour, my hair needed to be washed yesterday, and you are currently wrapped around me.” She pushed her back up against him. “That feels pretty comfortable.”
He hummed but didn’t say anything. She twisted out of his grip and handed him the last sheet of cookies, which he dutifully carried to the oven. She got to work cleaning the mixing bowl and he wiped down the counter. They worked without words, in sync as they always were even though she knew the conversation wasn’t over.
Olivia dried her hands on the dish towel and turned to face Elliot. He was leaning against the counter, arms folded across his chest.
“What?”
He shrugged. “So what do you want to do now?”
She shook her head. “Elliot, come on—”
“We could watch Elf. You know, it’s at its best when you’ve already seen it a couple dozen times.”
“You are such a pain in the ass, you know that?” She dropped the dish towel on the counter and walked to him. She wrapped his arms around his waist and placed a kiss on his neck. “I think you know exactly what the plan is.”
“I want you to tell me,” he said, still not willing to give up on the point he was trying to make.
“Why do you need this so badly?” she asked. “You know I’m happy to have you here.”
She watched his eyes as he waited without answering. He was on her case about not being brave enough to talk openly about their sex life, but maybe he was the one who was scared. She studied his face and considered that teasing and banter aside, maybe he needed this reassurance from her.
That was something she understood completely. After everything they’d been through– their partnership, his leaving, and all that had happened since he came back– it had taken a lot for her to trust him again. There were still times where her faith in the possibility that this might actually work out came into question, when she reached to him to settle her fears and remind her that it was just them. Partners who were always there for each other.
“You know that thing that you do?” she asked, gathering up all the confidence she carried in other areas of her life. “Where you sort of hold me down with one hand and… curl the fingers on your other hand so they find my g spot? We could do that?”
He may have asked for her to talk to him like this, but it didn’t stop him from turning a bright shade of pink after hearing it.
“After the cookies,” she said, stepping back from him. He groaned and reached out but she danced away from his grip. She laughed and peeked into the oven. “Calm down, El. They’re done. Just let me put them on the rack.”
She scraped the cookies off the pan while Elliot kissed her neck. He slid his hands in her pants, first grabbing at her ass before sliding them around her hips. She dropped one of the gingerbread men, snapping off its arm, when his fingers ghosted inside her. This was the most inappropriate baking she had ever been a part of. By the last cookie, he wasn’t teasing anymore and Olivia could barely keep herself upright.
“Bedroom,” she breathed, dropping the spatula and reaching for the hand that wasn’t driving her crazy.
He followed her down the hall, calmly without trying anything, until they crossed the threshold into her room. She turned to face him and he stepped up to her, boxing her in, surrounding her with his enormous frame. He reached a hand to her face, so soft it could almost make her cry, and lowered his lips to hers. For all the flirtatious heat they’d had before, this kiss was so much more. It was sensual, passionate. It was a kiss between two people who had known each other for a lifetime and who didn’t take a second of the time they had together for granted.
Elliot’s hands went to her hips, sliding under the hem of her shirt and up her torso so slowly as his fingers tickled against her skin. She could feel goosebumps prickle her arms as he pulled her shirt over her head, dropping it carefully on the armchair near the door. She followed in kind, enjoying the feel of his muscular abs and chest against her palms. She added his shirt to the chair with her own and placed a small kiss on his skin, just below his collar bone.
“I’m glad you came over,” she said, running a hand along his back.
“You were just happy to have a baking assistant.”
“Didn’t hurt,” she admitted. “But I mean this. I missed this lately. While you were away.”
“Me too.”
Her fingers went to his jeans, undoing the belt and button and sliding the zipper down. Elliot worked his way out of his pants and helped her out of hers. They moved together to the bed. They were in no rush, just enjoying each other’s company.
Elliot laid down, moving to his side of the bed. She crawled to him on her knees, tossing one leg over his hips to straddle him. When she looked down at him, she couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face. All the years she had longed to see him this way… She wondered if there would ever be a time when she wasn’t amazed that this was real. That they were here. That he was hers and she was his.
“Come ’ere,” he said, and she folded forward, laying flush to his chest so she could capture his lips with her own. His hands went to her hips, holding her in place while he ground up against her. They moved together, in sync in a way she’d never been with anyone other than him. She knew what he wanted and what he would do next, but not in a predictable, mundane sort of way. They were one when they did this. Communicating openly, sometimes with words, but more often, without.
Elliot removed her bra and rolled them over so she was on her back. She felt her hair in a tousled mess on the pillow, her breasts flopping to the sides, but when she looked into his eyes, she had never felt more beautiful. He hovered above her, one hand on her belly while the other worked its way into her underwear. She knew he would take her words to heart.
Her back arched off the bed as he did exactly the thing she liked, exactly the thing she’d asked for.
“Mmm, you like that?”
“Yes,” she answered, eyes shut, nerve endings alight. “God, El. Yes.”
He was on a mission, no longer taking his time or playing around. He had told her he would make her come more than once, and he’d meant it.
And it was working.
Olivia reached out for him, her fingertips just brushing against his skin as waves of pleasure spread through her body. He was holding her down, which was something that made her feel panicked in other situations, but with him, she just felt secure.
He was unrelenting, pushing her further and further. There was no gentle build up. It was zero to sixty and she could feel herself starting to fall.
“Elliot, Elliot…”
“Right here, Liv,” he said. Her eyes were closed tight as she tried to squirm against the mattress. “That’s it.”
He leaned in a little closer, pressed his hand down a little further, stroked just a little more perfectly and she felt her world explode. Her breath and her voice were trapped inside her as her entire body clenched, every nerve ending alight.
“So sexy,” Elliot said. She could feel him readjusting, but she was too frazzled to pay that much mind. Until she felt his tongue on her.
“Jesus!” she yelped, jumping in surprise. Her eyes flew open so she could see Elliot where lay in front of her. His big hand grasped the lace of the underwear she was still wearing, pulling it aside while he delved into her like his life depended on it. She hadn’t had a chance to calm herself and she could barely catch her breath. She was over stimulated, on the edge of something that felt much larger than an aftershock.
A sound escaped her lips, breathy and high pitched. She clawed at Elliot’s back, on the verge of telling him it was too much, but when his fingers joined his mouth, she melted into him as she let go again. “Elliot, oh my God.”
He hummed against her, not backing away until she gave him a nudge. He sat up, locking eyes with her, wearing a proud smile. “Told ya so.”
Olivia shook her head and reached for him. They removed each other’s remaining clothes before Elliot leaned on top of her. He placed kisses on her breasts and neck before his lips found hers. He tasted like her and himself. Like them together. She reached down their bodies, taking him in her hand and stroking him gently. His eyes fell closed, his mouth slightly open. She heard a small moan come from somewhere in the back of his throat.
Olivia hummed in appreciation, because watching him like this was one of her favorite things. He was no less strong and imposing than he was in the rest of his life, but like this, he was also vulnerable and sexy. And all hers.
His hand moved on top of hers, unwrapping her fingers as he readjusted himself. He pressed his hips against hers before slowly nudging inside her. She was still so wet that it took almost no effort until he was completely buried within her. They let out a synchronous moan and he started to move. Olivia wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he grabbed hold of the back of her thigh, pushing her leg up toward her chest.
She could tell by the way he moved that he wasn’t going to be able to last long. His thrusts were forceful and his face was pinched. She could hear him mumbling her name over and over as he grabbed hold of her other leg, pushing it up so she was nearly folded in half. The change in angle made her gasp. Elliot’s pace picked up and she called out. She didn’t think she had it in her to come again, and yet with every thrust, she felt closer and closer.
“Elliot, I’m close.”
“I love you, baby.”
Olivia gasped and Elliot’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t stop. He pushed into her, once, twice, until he came, triggering a release of her own. They held onto each other, fingers digging into each other’s skin until they were able to calm down.
Elliot rolled to her side as they both worked to catch their breath.
“Liv, I…”
She put a hand on his chest, silencing him so the room was filled with nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing.
She knew he loved her– had known for a long time– but that was the first time he’d said it exactly like that. There was no intervention, no memorial for their former captain. Just the two of them, sweaty and naked in her bed.
Her mind was working overtime, considering his timing, what it meant, what she would say in return. If she was brave enough to admit she loved him. If she would ever be brave enough to tell him that she’d loved him for decades.
“Please don’t run,” he said, rolling on his side to face her. She had her eyes closed and she didn’t open them. She needed a moment to herself. She didn’t want to run. She wanted to stay right there, with him, for the rest of her life, but if that wasn’t the most frightening thing she’d ever considered, she didn’t know what was.
“I’m not running,” she said, eyes still closed.
“But you’re thinking so hard I can hear it.”
She let out a sigh and turned her head so she could look at him. There was no smirk, no smug smile. Just concern.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “It just came out.”
“That happens to you a lot.”
A small chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Must be a reason for that.”
“Elliot, I’ve been on my own for a very long time,” she told him. “It’s not that I don’t…” Jesus, she couldn’t even make herself say it. She closed her eyes and tried again. “I’ve lost a lot of people and it’s scary to be, I don’t know. So open. Forthcoming.”
“I know,” he said, his fingers running through the hair by her face, smoothing it back while simultaneously playing with the strands. “And I don’t want to push you, but I also don’t want to hide how I feel.”
Olivia looked into his eyes, watching him while he scanned her face. “And yeah, I could have picked a better time to say it. Several better times, but I mean it. It was bound to come out eventually.”
In so many ways, it was all she’d ever wanted, even if she was afraid to admit it. Suddenly, an image of Buddy the Elf popped into her head making her smile, big and goofy.
“What?”
“I was just thinking of Will Ferrell.”
“I thought we said we weren’t going to include him in this.”
Olivia chuckled. “You know when he runs into the store or the office or whatever and says he’s in love and doesn’t care who knows it?” she asked. “That’s you. You’re Buddy the Elf.”
Elliot laughed and snuggled up against her. “Maybe I am.”
She took a deep breath and let it out, settling in and allowing herself to appreciate how the night had gone. It wasn’t what she’d expected– not by a longshot– but it wasn’t any less festive.
“We really should get out of here before Noah gets home,” she said. “We could still watch the movie.”
“I’d love to,” he said, which sounded awfully close to the words that were rolling around in her mind, begging to be let out.
“Hey Siri,” she yelled, hoping her phone was somewhere within earshot. “Set a five minute timer.”
“Responsible,” Elliot said, his breath tickling her neck.
She turned so she could see him. Diving into this head first was absolutely frightening, but as she watched him lying there with his eyes closed, head resting on her shoulder, she decided he was the best reason to be brave. Olivia placed a kiss on his lips, which turned into a soft smile. “I love you.”
He opened his eyes, smile growing wider, like she’d given him the only gift he wished for. “Me too.”