holdouttrout

Title: Modulation
Rating: Adult
Words: 900
Summary: They're not partners anymore, and it's not exactly what they wanted.
Notes: Thanks to

surreallis, who betaed this for me. Written for the Holiday Hoedown at

eoshippers, but only tangentially related to my adjective/lyrics, which were as follows:
Your adjective is: underground
And your lyric is:

Once I stood beside a well of many words
My house was full of rings and
Charms and pretty birds
Please understand me, my
Walls come falling down
There's nothing here that's left for you
But check with lost and found
Please read the letter that I wrote
Please read the letter that I wrote
Please Read the Letter, Allison Krauss & Robert Plant

This is not going to work. It occurs to Liv just before El's lips touch hers, his warm breath on her skin, his presence all around her. Maybe two years ago, when they were still only partners, they might have been able to cross this line unscathed, but now they're too much the same already, too enmeshed in each other. She thinks about stopping him, thinks she ought to, but it's already too late.

Her subconscious never stops working with the pieces she gives it, slotting them one at a time next to each other, shapes of the puzzle coming together to form a greater whole, only visible once all the pieces are already there, and as El kisses her, tastes her, she's waiting to see if they fit together like she always thought they would.

They do.

His heat is staggering, and Liv wishes she had known so she could have turned her thermostat down. She's just too hot, now, and his hands are on her bare skin under her shirt, and it's too much. He holds her as he strips her shirt off her, drags it over her head and she turns into his neck, sucks a little, and his hands tighten around her waist.

Liv makes a note of this for later and then she steps back, takes El's hand and leads him to her bedroom. He follows her without a word, his eyes shadowed and unfathomable. She doesn't turn on her light--there's enough coming in through the curtains for her to make out the edges of her bed and dresser, and when she turns around she can see El's expression. He's not trying to hide it anymore, that sort of possessive stare he gets sometimes when people mention partners or when she mentions Oregon.

That's all over now. They've been banished from each other at work. Reassigned. Liv tries to imagine work tomorrow, the next week, year, and can't, not without El by her side. Even though she's still too warm, she shivers. She lowers her eyes, wondering what's in them. She moves to take off her jeans, and El jerks as if he's been burned.

"Let me," he asks. His voice is harsh, and he comes near without waiting for her to respond, kisses her, hand smoothing out across her belly, hooking into her waistband and then he unbuttons them and slides them down her legs so she can step out of them. He waits until she kicks them away to take off his own shirt, inhales and fumbles as she unbuttons his pants, returns the favor until she can feel his bare skin radiating heat against her own.

"You're so warm," she mumbles, and a breath of laughter huffs into her skin before he kisses her again, deep, and now she's wishing for the bed.

He reads her body like he does this every day, and takes her there, lays her down and now Liv can't see him for the shadows across his body, knows he's looking at her.

"How--" he starts, but she pulls him down, and he lets go of the question.

She's tired of asking the right questions, of pushing him away, and she's finally been offered another choice. Now she can't get enough, even when they're both completely naked and pressed together, skin to skin. She tastes his neck and feels his pulse, hears her own as a distant roar. She never wants to forget this moment, squeezes her eyelids shut to remember the way he feels, solid and hard beneath her, the way he smells, a little sweaty but so, so good, the way he tastes...

She's above him, somehow, grinding down onto him, and she never expected that Elliot would let her take the lead, here, but she is not complaining as he strokes her and she grasps his penis, guides him into her, watches his eyes roll back into his head.

"Fuck, Liv," he says, and it's almost an endearment the way he says it, almost a command. He rolls them over so he's on top and driving into her, and oh, yes, this is much more like him. He has her framed in his arms, and he's muttering into her skin--her name over and over, as if he's branding her with it.

Liv meets his thrusts and feels herself getting close. She puts her hand between them and strokes around her clit, and Elliot is watching her, and it's one more thrust and she's coming, blood roaring and she can't keep her eyes open. She feels Elliot press against her, and it's just perfect.

Elliot moves just far enough off of her so she can breathe, and for a few minutes that's what she does. In, out, and then the sounds from the city intrude.

Elliot whispers her name in her ear, and the sound slides off her. Liv stares at the ceiling and tries to measure what she's gained, but she can only see the gaps forming where Elliot should be: as her partner, her friend. She wants to cry, suddenly, and Elliot's hand is on her back, and he's pulling her back to him.

"I just--I wanted--"

Everything.

He holds her close, rubs circles on her back. "I know. I know."