A/N: This is an imagined missing scene from Spousal Privilege (16x08), set after Nick leaves Amanda in the bar. Nothing makes me happier than your guys' reviews! Thank you so much for all the kind words. Enjoy!
Spoilers: Minor for Spousal Privilege, Major for Thought Criminal/Spring Awakening
Trigger Warnings: Rough sex
Rating: Strong M for graphic sexual content
Disclaimer: Not mine! Dick's! Shucks.
Distorted Connections
Amanda Rollins smirked with snide pleasure as Nick Amaro skidded his chair backward. It clattered as he rose to his feet, the angry swipe of his arm causing his glass to drop and shatter on the sports bar floor.
"Ahh!" Rollins crowed, triumphant. She giggled with the relief of feeling right, and the whiskey she'd been downing.
"You know what?" Nick fumed, but Amanda was still trying to stifle her laughter, offering a weak apology. "I'm gonna do what A. J. Martin should'a done: walk away."
Amaro grabbed Amanda's glass from the bar, drinking the contents in three gulps as he stalked to the end of the bar. He slid the empty glass back onto the counter, and then was gone out the door. Deflated, Amanda sunk slowly back onto her bar seat. She was a little embarrassed, now, and not nearly drunk enough to want to be drinking alone. Taking a deep breath, she decided she would order a drink and stay long enough to regain her dignity.
If that was possible.
When her whiskey was up, Rollins vowed to keep her eyes on the bar, and go home when the drink was gone. Deep in a daze, her hands were around the highball glass when the voice of her Lieutenant got her attention. Amanda turned, finding Olivia at her right side at the bar, looking curious.
"Hey. You okay?" the brunette asked, "I just saw Amaro blow out of here, looking pissed. What happened?"
Amanda's cheeks pinked anew with embarrassment. "Oh, ah – the case, I think? Botherin' him . . . unless it's Maria. Not sure."
"Ok." Liv shrugged it off and signalled the bartender to bring a glass of red wine.
"Speaking of this case," Amanda went on, "did Barba say how he thinks it's goin'?"
"It's anybody's guess right now," Liv answered. "Defense is working hard to get A. J. sympathy - and to paint me as a hypocrite," she muttered, sipping her drink.
"How's that?" Rollins raised an eyebrow.
"On cross, Calhoun came at me over Nick, for getting him back on the unit."
Amanda shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing.
"I'm just . . . pissed," Olivia sighed, "because it's not the same thing."
"It's not?" Amanda echoed, working to keep her tone neutral.
"Of course not. Nick lashed out at a perverted creep who fantasized about murdering kids! Not his wife for being jealous."
"They both sure have a temper, though," Amanda said, her whiskey burning a pleasing line down her throat.
"Yeah, well, so did my old partner – but he would've died before he laid a hand on his wife or kids."
Amanda considered this for a moment, still feeling mildly guilty for pushing Amaro. Her Lieutenant had no idea that she had blackmailed Wilkes' wife to get Nick set free, which is when he landed in anger management. Olivia probably also didn't know that she and Nick had been sleeping together, off and on, for a while. Although, if pressed, Amanda would have to admit that she no longer knew what she was chasing in it.
"I dunno," Amanda grimaced, "it could just be th'South in me, but . . . I just feel like we're overstepping, here." She finished her drink and called for another.
"You don't see Paula as a victim?" Liv asked.
"I'm not saying that. I just think even victims should have the choice. It's been clear from the start that Paula Bryant doesn't want to be doing this."
"She had a choice," Liv said firmly, "right up until that tape came out. Our unit has to be responsible for the public impressions we allow; it's the price that comes with keeping up with social changes."
"I don't see us forcing rape victims to file charges."
"No," Liv nodded, " but we push awfully hard. As hard as we can, because we know that just letting it drop is wrong."
Amanda fidgeted, uncomfortable again. Everything seemed to be hitting just too close to home, lately. She swigged her new glass of whiskey and tried to shrug off the weight of all of her own secrets – secrets that had their beginnings in the South, long before Cragen had recruited her for the New York SVU. The squad at the one-six knew little to nothing of her life from before, and Amanda intended to keep it that way.
"So, what happens to battered wives in Atlanta?" Liv asked, "The local sewing circle just powder their bruises and send them home?"
"Not quite," Amanda told her. "We've come a little ways since then, but not by much. Look, all I'm saying is that some people can only save themselves and not the other way around."
Olivia scoffed. "You don't really believe that."
Amanda said nothing, clearing her throat and swirling her drink in its glass. They fell to drinking in silence, glancing every now and then at the TV over the bar, which seemed to show news regarding the Martin case on ten minute loops. Liv nursed her one glass of wine, grimacing whenever the leaked footage was replayed.
At last, she couldn't restrain herself from starting again: "You think we should've just dropped it?" She nodded her head towards the TV, "Let her go on home to that?"
"She's a grown woman! Not a child," Amanda insisted, "and she's still choosing him, even with us involved!"
"What about her son? He has no choice," Liv pointed out. "I'm surprised you're not more empathetic, about kids growing up in toxic environments."
Irritated, Amanda got up from her seat. "I should let you have your wine in peace," she told her boss, tossing a crumpled fifty onto the bar. Without meeting the older woman's gaze, she headed for the door.
The night air was clean and cool, filling her nostrils as she pushed the door open. It made her aware of how drunk she now was, flushed warm and slightly dizzy. She had to stop short to orient herself, make sure she was going in the direction of home. This hesitation was just long enough for Olivia to catch up to her.
"Amanda!" she said, breathless as the bar door clanked shut behind her. "Let me drop you at your place; I've got a precinct car with me."
"Thanks, but I'll walk," Rollins declined, turning away.
"Please. Amanda." Rollins stopped walking, but didn't face her. "You've had a lot to drink. Let me take you home."
Olivia's voice was low, and sincere. The deeply buried attraction that Amanda held for her Lieutenant shifted, tugging at the roots of her, and moisture pooled in her groin. She faced her again. "I'll be fine."
"I don't doubt you would be - just let me do this. For me."
Amanda hesitated another second, then sighed, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her skirt. She followed Liv in the opposite direction to where the car was parked, taken by surprise when Olivia opened the passenger side door for her. When she keyed the engine, a song that Amanda didn't recognize resumed playing:
Whatever you want
But you're gonna have to ask me
Your mouth waters
Stretched out on my bed
Your fingers are trembling
And your heart is heavy and red
The lyrics set her pulse racing. She glanced at Liv, who was fumbling at her phone, quickly shutting down her music app. The song stopped abruptly, and Olivia mumbled a sheepish apology before pulling away from the curb in the direction of Amanda's place.
There was a lull in the night traffic, and the city was pretty, in its way, to look at. Tall buildings with warm, lighted windows, and the suggestion of a star here and there, higher up on the skyline. Amanda felt herself start to relax.
"You can turn your music back on, if you want," Amanda said softly.
"The city is nice tonight," Liv said, "it's ok. Need anything before you get home?"
"No. But thanks."
They went back to admiring the skyline in silence, glancing at skyscrapers, bodegas, churches as they slid by in the neon darkness that was New York at night. It was the first time in more than a week that both women stopped thinking about the Martin case, and so, Rollins' neighborhood seemed to arrive much too soon.
"Can I go up with you?" Liv asked, once the car was parked. The normally assertive Lieutenant sounded unsure of herself.
"I didn't realize I was in need of an escort," Amanda replied, squeezing out a smile. "Did you want to cuff me, too, or . . . ?"
The question hung in the car for a moment, changing the atmosphere subtly, and a blush that Amanda told herself she was imagining crept up Liv's cheeks.
Amanda cleared her throat. "Come on up, Lieutenant."
They went inside, taking the elevator up. When the elevator reached Amanda's floor, the doors dinged open – loud in the empty hallway – and Rollins stepped out immediately.
Olivia stood still in the elevator. "I'm sorry, if I upset you."
Still sobering, Amanda turned back to the elevator, catching the door with her arm as it began to shut. "I forget, sometimes, that Atlanta isn't the big city. You'd think three years would be enough to adapt, but – " she shrugged. When she turned away again, Liv followed her into the hallway.
At her door, Rollins dug her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the apartment, letting the door open just barely past its jamb.
Still standing behind her, Liv spoke again: "How long have you been sleeping with Amaro?"
The oxygen in Amanda's lungs reversed from her chest in a silent rush. She could hear her pulse pounding at her temples again, and the whiskey in her stomach turned over. "Excuse me?" she finally replied, without moving.
"C'mon, Amanda. It's my squad; I've worked it a long time. Nothing is ever really a secret."
When Rollins turned back to her boss, her mouth was set in a straight line. Her buzz had faded beyond the waking point, and her face betrayed how tired she was. "I don't see how that's your concern," she said.
"It doesn't have anything to do with your reaction to this case? Or why you were drunk before 10?"
The muscle in Liv's jaw clenched as Amanda's icy blue eyes grew stormy.
"This case!" Amanda hissed, "Is a joke, Liv. Powerful men . . . they don't change, and they don't get punished," she went on. "Paula already decided that she's not a victim – and we're wastin' our time trying to convince her that she is!"
Olivia took a deep breath, softening her voice. "Amanda, we both know that isn't how this works. Paula Bryant can tell herself she isn't a victim all she wants – it doesn't make what happened to her any less wrong."
The two women looked at each other, taking deep breaths. Liv thought of Melissa Ferrick, the sultry lyrics that poured out of her speakers in the car. She regarded Amanda closely: still dressed in what she'd worn to court earlier in the day, her hair pulled into half of a messy ponytail, showing her simple silver earrings. It made Olivia's stomach pull taut.
(whatever you want
but you're gonna have to ask me)
Finally Amanda's gaze dropped to the hallway floor, sliding away from the tall, older brunette that made her want things that would never be found in bed with Nick. She swallowed hard. "Haven't you ever slept with the wrong guy, in pursuit of something larger and more unattainable?" she asked quietly. Liv didn't answer. "No?" Rollins went on, "Well, it's been most of my whole life."
"What's unattainable?" Liv whispered.
Amanda looked back at the older woman, blinking her cool blue eyes. "Connection," came the answer.
A blink in time seemed to bottom out in a silent vacuum, and then Rollins was aware of everything at once: the crash of her apartment door as it swung inward, and the weight of Olivia Benson atop her as their bodies met the door where it stopped. There was no opportunity for Amanda to say anything - Liv's kisses and weight against her carried a hunger that was impossible to maneuver around. She could only receive it, open her mouth and be filled further.
If it was connection that she had wanted, now it was possible she might drown in it.
When there came a break, it was only long enough for Olivia to slip an arm around Amanda's waist. She hoisted her up the door with a soft unff escaping her, encouraging her to lift her legs around the brunette's waist. Amanda's professional black pencil skirt slid up into perfect layers of ruffles, exposing smooth thigh-high nylons. Olivia's knee came to rest between the blonde's thighs, pinning her still as she resumed her frenzy of hard, deep kisses.
The assault moved to Amanda's neck, Liv's teeth nipping stinging bites along the creamy lines there. Her earrings trembled each time she flinched; her half-done hair was escaping its elastic. She let out a grunt when the Lieutenant's knee made contact with the heat of her crotch, and Liv grinned. Leaning back, she pulled the ties at the neck of Rollins' mint-colored blouse.
Both women froze as they recognized the ding of the elevator down the hall.
"Guess we gotta move this past the doorway," Amanda panted. Liv let her down slowly, Amanda's shoes pushing into the entryway rug without a sound.
They stepped inside, with Liv pushing the door shut. She watched as Amanda tossed her keys on the coffee table, then removed her blouse to reveal the silk camisole beneath it. When Olivia came up behind her, Amanda turned into her arms. Her shallow, expectant breaths made her chest visibly heave. The nearest wall was behind them, beside the entry to Amanda's bedroom, and they slammed against it noisily, resuming without need of explanation.
A deep, radiating heat was filling Amanda from the bottom of her belly, making her grateful for something that she couldn't yet name. She doesn't wanna be a victim, was what she'd yelled at Nick.
(I don't want to be a victim!)
Shadows from her life before covered too many things. It had driven her to bed with the nearest volatile male - a vice she had picked up easier than gambling. Liv's touch was enough to make her forget. Amanda didn't want to look past that yet.
Beneath the thin camisole there was only a bralette. Olivia yanked the silk from the waistband of the pencil skirt and thrust her hands beneath it, beneath the bralette, touching her breasts roughly. Fingernails scraped the peaks of Amanda's nipples. She hissed, causing Liv to hesitate.
"Don't stop," Amanda bit out, "please . . . "
Liv dragged her fingernails again, sure that it would mark the younger woman's breasts. No longer satisfied with the wall, Liv stepped back and shed her blazer onto the floor, then stepped through the doorway to the bedroom. When Amanda rounded the corner, the statuesque brunette was holding out her hand to her. She took it, and was drawn into Liv's embrace where she was lifted again – turned and deposited, this time, on the bed.
Olivia lifted a nylon-clad leg, caressing its long lines all the way to the top of the thighs where the stocking ended. Leaning low, just below the rucked-up pencil skirt, she placed a bite on each creamy thigh, her weight pushing them farther apart. Amanda groaned, clenching her greedy vaginal muscles with impatience. She watched as Liv stood back to slowly unbutton her own blouse, then remove her bra, revealing caramel-skinned breasts with deep, rosy nipples.
Liv jerked Amanda's camisole and bralette over her head, then dropped over her torso, capturing the first of her nipples into her mouth. Her breasts were red where Liv had drawn her nails, and Liv touched the lines soothingly, pleased. Blindly, Amanda's hands sought and won her partner's nipples in return, pinching them forcefully.
The brunette growled against Amanda's sensitive skin. "Fuck," she whispered, "fuck!" She gripped her by the wrist, pushing her arms over her head and pinning them with one hand. With the other, Liv reached between Amanda's legs, spanking her pussy hard enough to make it sting.
Amanda squirmed, her eyes sparkling. "Again." When the blow was repeated, she bit her lip, her pussy growing wetter.
Olivia decided she was done with the skirt, taking her time unfastening it, tugging it down over Amanda's hips. Leaving on the thigh-highs, she admired the tiny slip of thong – all that was left covering the blonde's coiled pubic hair. Even standing, Liv could see the material soaking with her partner's arousal, and smirked. She pulled her to her feet, turning her to face the bed, then carefully pushed her back down onto her stomach. Straddling Amanda's fit, runners' calves, Liv leaned over, grasping tight the back of the thong and tugging it upward until it was pushing hard into Amanda's crevice. It stroked all the right places, and she began to whimper into the bedclothes, muddled by the painful pleasure.
A hand cracked a spank against Amanda's ass, and Liv released the thong, pulling it aside as she spread Amanda's thighs and thrust her tongue into her burning core.
"Fuck!" Amanda screamed in frustration, her hands tearing at the blankets. But the tongue was gone in a moment, replaced by two of Olivia's long, slender fingers. They slid in, all the way to the top of Liv's palm in one stroke. Amanda lost her breath.
She fucked her, hard – so hard – and fast. The wet sound of Liv's angry thrusts was loud, lascivious, and fucking delicious. It spurred them both on: Amanda's ass rebounding from each thrust, slamming the bed, and the older woman's arm hammering without remorse. When at last Amanda came, pooling wetly into Liv's palm, it brought tears to her eyes. She took in air in hot gulps, unsure if she could move.
They were still catching their breaths when Amanda rolled from her stomach and sat up. Wordlessly, she opened Liv's dark pants, pushing them off then gliding soft fingers over the sensible cotton boyshorts underneath. She slid these down as well, motioning for Liv to step free of them. Liv stood with her legs at hip-width, then reached her hand to the nape of the blonde's neck and curled her fingers into the sleek tresses. Pulling her by the hair, Liv directed Amanda to slip from the bed to her knees on the floor. She tipped her head back slightly, then guided her to her aching, dripping slit.
Never hesitating, Amanda brought up a hand and spread Olivia open, burying her face into the moist heat. Her tongue snaked out, tentative at first, then harder and faster. She lapped at her, pushing the tip of her tongue into the hooded crevice of her clit. Suckling, nibbling, she listened for the muffled sounds of Liv's approval from between gritted teeth.
Amanda growled when she felt her hair being tugged again. Back up onto the bed she sat, then laid back as Liv moved over her. Her knees came to rest on either side of Amanda's head, and Olivia lowered herself onto her mouth. Dizzy with the height of her pleasure, Amanda sank her tongue deep into Liv's pussy, fucking and sucking at her. One hand was on the blonde's head, pushing her where she would have gone willingly, and the other was clenched into a fist, chasing her zenith.
Amanda's eyes rolled back at the salt and scent of her as Liv orgasmed, quaking above her. Olivia moved off of her face with a grunt, dropping onto the mattress beside Amanda, panting. At once, the two women became keenly aware of how tired they were, how late the night had become.
Liv rolled onto her side, placing a hand softly over Amanda's galloping heart. She kissed her – all of the anger burned down now – asking: "Are you okay?"
Amanda smiled. "I am."
She looked into her blue eyes a long time. "Victims can be brave, too, you know," she whispered. When Amanda didn't respond, Liv said, "Do you want me to go?"
Amanda shook her head. She wasn't ready to be a victim yet – but she no longer felt alone, the way being with Nick normally left her when sharing a bed. Liv gathered her into her arms. She wondered if the connection they'd shared would hold.
END