Amanda

Things have changed since I was last inside Olivia's apartment: small details - a piece of decor, a lamp, a picture frame - but I notice them just the same. It's strange to step so easily into this space when I remember the last time I tried to gain entrance, but she hardly casts me a glance as we trudge inside.

I try to keep my eyes to myself, but I want to gaze at my surroundings and take everything in - as if these walls could somehow be a part of her I'm being allowed to touch and look at it. It's a paltry substitute for the real shape of her, but our fight in the courthouse hall has almost left me thirsting for more. I held her and touched her, stroked her hair and kissed her forehead…

It's all I've wanted for these long barren weeks since last I stood here, and the empty cavern of my heart has grown increasingly parched. As unbearable as that harsh and violent night had been the slow and excruciating torture of working next to her every single day and pretending as if nothing has happened is almost more painful. The need for her has grown inside me to a point I can't ignore and when I found her crying alone the steps I couldn't stop myself anymore.

Wrapping my arms around her, feeling the weight of her against my chest, her hair soft against my cheek was like an explosion of my memories and my desire to have things as they once were...but it wasn't the same. It can't be the same when she fought me every step of the way, spitting expletives and breathing with fury, crying with an indignation I have well earned. She made it clear that I have made her life miserable, as if that has needed any explaining.

Perhaps it was my guilt then that lead me to take her home with every pure intent of simply protecting and caring for her. I try to leave my desires - the selfish ones she's rebuked me for - at the door, clutching to some small hope that if I make some impression on her tonight that perhaps she'll finally change her mind.

I watch her cross the room, her shoulders hunched with the weight of the world. She collapses to the couch with a low breath, gazing off towards the window. She's been silent since we left the courthouse, and I can almost see the shovel in her hands, burying her emotions deep.

It's what she does best with them, when all I can do is rage and burn until they die out. Right now, however, I'm not even sure I can do that.

I close the door and turn the deadbolts before standing awkwardly several yards away from her deflated figure on the sofa. It's quiet, disturbed only by the distant sounds of the city and the neighbors above and below us.

"Can I get you something?" I ask at last, my uncertain tone shattering the silence.

She shrugs slowly and I can her biting her inner lip. I can sense the tears welling in her eyes again, and I struggle to find some temporary resolution.

"Come on, there must be something." I insist.

She shrugs once more, turning her face away further. I wince at her tears which motivate me further to assuage her agony.

Turning from her, I wander into her kitchen and open a cabinet as if the answer is hiding somewhere amongst her dry goods, but the action makes me feel as if I'm doing something. It's better than nothing.

She remains quiet as I note that not much has changed about the way Olivia stocks her pantry, reminding me that I once walked these very same steps as a inhabitant of this home rather than a visitor - or rather, a stranger.

I cringe at the memory of getting up from the bed and darting into the kitchen, half naked and still half drunk, to snag the wine from the fridge yet again. We'd celebrated that night, some number of months or days which is now insignificant, burnt into nothing. I remember her laughter following me, calling for me to be quick - don't bother with the glasses, we won't need them…

I open my eyes to the present, my throat catching with unexpected emotion. I lean quickly on the counter, grinding my jaw against the urge to collapse into tears right here in her kitchen. Pursing my lips, I lower my head, let out a low sigh through my nostrils.

I should've treasured that night. I should've put the bottle aside and clung to the sharp edges of sobriety until the clarity of her body before me took my very breath away. I loathe the way so many of our nights together are now smudged in my mind beneath the corrosive hand of alcohol and the passage of time; and now this night too shall be distorted, if not by drink then by tears.

Blinking against the sudden emotion, I turn towards the refrigerator and yank the door open. My eyes don't have to search long to find the bottle towards the back of the shelf, just like always. It's a miniscule detail, but the the fact that some things never change forces another rush of tears to my eyes.

Grabbing the bottle, I march back towards the cabinets to take two wine glasses. As I return to the living room, Olivia glances over at me, her brow furrowing.

"What are you doing?" She asks, sitting forward and quickly dashing her fingers under her eyes.

I find my fingers quivering as I set the glasses down on the coffee table and remove the wine topper from the bottle.

"We both need this." I comment, pouring the thick, sweet red into the glass with a quick, practiced hand.

"I'm not sure…." She begins to protest, but I shove the glass in her direction.

She studies the resolve in my gaze, and I can see her weighing the pros and cons of fighting me on something I already know that she wants. Finally, she reaches out, a look of self doubt crossing her features. She fears this is a ploy. I haven't decided whether it is or not yet, though I'd like to righteously claim it isn't. Only moments ago, I promised myself not to revolve tonight around my own heart, but watching as she takes it slowly, I can hardly stop myself from drowning in the memories.

I'm here in the very room where we made love so many times - pushed against the walls, crumbled to the floor, spread across the couch…. How do I forget when she's lapsed here on the cushions in front of me, so tragically beautiful in the light of certain heartbreak.

I'm stepping closer to her before I can think, sinking to the edge of the coffee table, mere inches from her. Her expression flashes surprise and distrust as I reach down to touch her leg. My fingers skim the back of her calf, and she begins to resist, my name on her mouth.

"Amanda…" She stutters, her muscles taut as I slide my fingers tight around her leg, pulling her foot up into my lap.

Her flesh peeking from beneath her pant leg is silken, rising and falling with a bone structure I've never failed to adore. Cradling her ankle, I drag my thumb against the gentle curve just below the joint. A soft sound of dismay greets my ears at the sensual advance, but it's not enough for me to even think of stopping. Instead, her barest whimper kindles heat throughout my body.

"It's what I used to do for you." I murmur, asserting my other hand to grasp the black pump she's wearing.

The shoe hits the floor with a soft thud, and I feel my heart thundering against my ribs, surges of adrenaline and warmth searing my stomach. I touch the top of her foot, trailing my fingers up to her perfectly painted toes, and I hear her draw a quick breath. The resistance in her leg strengthens but I don't let go.

"After a long day, remember…." I whisper, glancing up at her shocked expression. "You'd sit here, I'd pour a glass…. You put your feet up, I give them a massage while you sipped and bitched and complained…."

"Amanda." She repeats, half a plea, half a command as I drag my thumb to the underside of her foot, applying pressure to the arch.

Her toes curl beneath my touch, and a tremulous smile touches my lips. I know just how to do it, which sore muscles need the most attention, what feels good. There's some things I can't erase from my mind no matter how hard I try.

"I loved you." I whisper, my fingers clenching around her ankle as she gives another pull. "I always did."

She stares back at me, rigidly, her fingers nearly quaking around the wine glass. Her leg is bent, ready to yank away from me, but I know that if she really wanted to, she would've done it already. This show of resistance is to calm both our consciences, to preserve the space between us which she has so clearly defined; but I know I'm only one breath away from blowing away the line she's drawn in the sand.

"From the moment I walked into that squad room." I continue in a whisper, forcefully dragging my thumb back up the curve of her foot again. "The first time I saw you, I just knew."

"Amanda…." She repeats, the intensity in her voice rising.

She's closing her eyes as a cringe crosses her face, struggling to maintain an even expression despite my persistent massage.

"You were a bitch to me, but I didn't care." I continue, ignoring the desperation in her tone. "You brushed me off and discredited me at every turn. You tried so hard, it was almost funny."

She lifts a hand to her forehead, hiding her face from me, and I'm not sure whether she's disguising a smile or tears. I used to know which.

"Do you remember?" I ask, swallowing hard against the rock of emotion in my throat.

She's silent for a short moment before her voice emits low and raspy, "Yes, of course….How could I forget? I- I never stopped thinking about you."

She turns her face away, towards the window again, her fingers poised over her trembling lips. I can see her chest rising and falling in uncertain waves, and I bite my own lip at the way I've shaken her. After all my pining and pleading, I wasn't sure she'd ever break beneath me again. Now, her own admission strikes me mute.

"I loved you before I even knew what was happening." She whispers, her tone dipping into tears, and she sucks in a quick, trembling breath.

Her eyes turn towards me, a slow descent. Her expression is wrought with pain and confusion, but beneath the heartache, I catch a glimpse of something more - a desire, the reflection of my own that I've waiting far too long for.

Her foot slips from my weakened hands, and I hear her draw a choked breath. The wine glass wavers in her hand, dangerously close to crashing to the floor, along with the rest of our inhibitions. She hardly moves as I lean in, drawn to the sweet desire oozing from beneath the steel plates she's erected around her heart. They've shifted and shattered now, like the aftermath of an earthquake, and I can't stop myself from feeding upon the disaster.

I'm bending over her, my hands clutching the cushions on either side of her strained shoulders, our faces bare inches apart. My hair rushes over my shoulders, dancing across her collar bones and breasts, and I can see her lids flutter at the sensation. Her breath is warm against my lips, and I'm locked upon her own parted, quivering mouth.

"Amanda…" She begins, but her voice is a whimper, a useless plea.

I sink against her, my mouth pressing to hers in an open kiss. In less than a heartbeat, I'm crushed against her, destroying the modicum of platonic professional we've erected between us in a single second. I'm tearing at the stitches on our hearts, and maybe I should be more gentle, but I won't give her some false pretense, some cowardly hesitation. I want her more than life itself, and I have but one chance to impress this raging need upon her.

She quakes beneath me, arching rigidly against the couch as I clasp her bottom lip inside my mouth. A groan vibrates between our joined flesh, hers first, then mine. I collapse into her, sinking my fingers into her hair as I release her mouth for a second kiss. Her chin tilts up towards mine in response, and when I plunder my way back to her lips, her tongue greets mine, curling up behind my teeth in a wanton plea.

She's not resisting. She's hardly even fighting. In many ways, she's begging, pleading me to continue.

Desire thunders through my body, caging me in a pulsing lust from which there is no escape. There's only release now, and the thought of that heady abandon squeezes heat down to my very core.

I shove in closer to her, kissing her harder in a flurry of moaning and panting, and I feel her hand at my waist, clenching down on the material of my shirt as she releases a low moan.

"'Manda….Wait..." She manages to gasp between my kisses, and I can hear the hesitation building in her tone.

She turns her face with another groan, and my moistened lips drag against her temples and cheekbone. Her fingers crawl over my arm, clenching down on my biceps, but I can feel the weakness bleeding into her grasp, the way she wants to give in.

"Please, don't stop me…" I whisper, pressing my mouth to her jaw, blasting the plea against her ear with heavy, hot breaths.

"Amanda…." She repeats my name once more, and I can hear all of her frustration and desire melding into one ragged, breathless expletive. "Jesus….fuck… I….I…"

I push back against her in the midst of her garbled words, grabbing her face with both hands. I kiss her again, hard and decisive. I've had enough of talking, of explaining and apologizing; I've had enough of words without actions, bemoaning what has become of us. I've had enough of regret to last the rest of my lifetime, and I'll be damned if I regret one more night without her.

She seems shocked at first my reckless fervor, her resistance falling into nothing. When she grabs me again, rocking me back into the coffee table, I expect her to push me off of her, but instead I hear the glass clink next to me as she discards the forgotten drink. I gasp as both her hands clasp my ass, dragging me onto her lap in one powerful motion. My thighs are spread across her own, and I'm moaning at the pleasure of our colliding hips when she presses her mouth to mine once more.

Feverishly, I return her kisses, our mouths wet and desperate. Her hands draw up and down my body, eagerly exploring every curve in a near panicked manner. Her ardor spears me through with desire, eviscerating the final ties of my self control. My fingers tangle harder in her hair, pulling with severity that must pain her, but she hardly protests. I squirm against her, thrusting my hips into her body, begging over and over for her touch.

She's panting heavily as she plunges her fingers beneath my shirt, her nails dragging over my bare flesh. I whimper as she finds the claps of my bra, and tears it open without hesitation. My breasts release from the material, flowing into her waiting palms. Her hands are achingly hot against my bare flesh as she fondles me, squeezing and rubbing in desperate patterns. Pleasure sears my nerve endings, crackling across my chest with such intensely that I can hardly take it. I arch against her, twisting in her arms with a low moan, but then she's dragging my shirt upwards. Dazed with pleasure, I follow her undressing, and she tosses first my shirt and then the bra to the floor, leaving my flesh naked to her roaming eyes.

I'm quaking as she spreads her hands over my ribs, her half lidded gaze tracking across my flushed, pleasured breasts with burning passion. My nipples tighten and ache at the ghost caress of her eyes, and I whimper her name without thinking.

"O-Olivia…"

Her hands slide around me, pulling me close as she as she dips her head towards my chest.

My eyes roll back as her mouth descends upon her left nipple, encapsulating my throbbing flesh in the heat of her mouth.

"Oh!" I cry out, grabbing at her shoulders as she sucks down with exquisite pressure.

Gushes of heat rush to fill the center of my body, springing from me with this simple touch. It's a mere fraction of what she can do to me, but after being bereft of her for so long, I can barely fathom the pleasure stampeding through my veins.

She releases my nipple with a wet sound, only to feed herself once more with my hardening flesh between her lips. I arch in her embrace, moaning aloud for her to hear. She makes a low noise in return, rocking into me as she gorges herself on my supple flesh. I'm writhing in her arms when she switches to my other nipple, descending upon the freshest skin hungrily.

"Ah! Oh god…" I cry out, twisting against her once more as the nearly unbearable pleasure swallows me once more.

She releases my breast suddenly, and I open my eyes to protest, but then she's moving, abruptly flipping me onto my back on couch. The unexpected movement leaves my head spinning as she splays me out across the cushions. Leaning over me, she drags my arms above my head, and ducks her head to kiss my neck.

I want to look into her eyes, but a part of me is terrified at what those two, brown oracles will tell me. I don't want to know whether she loves me or not in this moment. I just want to feel her, over and over again, until I can forget that the answer may not be what I want it to be.

Her moist lips are pressing lower to my breastbone, leaving a sweet pattern of kisses there. She moves quickly downwards, her tongue lapping out against the dip between my ribs . She intermittently asserts her teeth against the ridges of bones, scraping with sweet agony over my tingling flesh. I gasp and moan, my eyes fluttering and rolling back with each sensation.

I feel alive with the sudden pleasure, colors bursting across my vision which has long been dull with black and grey visions of my dying future. I've tried so many times to recreate what she gives me in the solace of my own bed, but nothing is like her hands on my body, her mouth tasting every piece of me. Every skin cell and every nerve ending is awake, ready to explode at the gentlest touch, and as she laves her tongue towards the center of me, I want to scream. Grabbing at the couch cushions, I ride each rolling wave of desire, waiting for her to converge upon me with the perfect storm.

Anticipation clenches my abdomen as she reaches my hip bone, and I feel her fingers at the waistband of my pants. Her knuckles brush against my stomach, washing undulating tremors over my sensitive flesh.

"Liv…." My voice emits in a high pitched whimper and I grab at her shoulders, my legs clenching around her.

"Sh….." She whispers the first raspy syllable that she's spoken since her teary confession, and the sound of her voice sends shivers across my body.

Whimpers fight against my tightly clenched jaw as she begins to unbutton my pants, snapping the final shreds of doubt that this night will go anywhere but here.

I've wanted this so much and for so long that it almost seems like a dream. Lying here against her couch, half naked, I hardly dare to wonder at what will become of me once this night has reached it devastating end.

She hooks her fingers under my pants and underwear and tugs them down, roughly, in one quick pull. Pants break through my lips, my heart racing and skipping in my chest as I kick away the balled up clothing between us. Then she's spreading her hands over my legs, pressing my thighs open. My fingers twist in against the material of her shirt as she sinks down between my legs, her face plunging into my stomach. Her mouth is ravenous against my flesh as she devours her way down to my groin without hesitation.

The short moments of sensual teasing are tossed aside, and the foreplay that's caused me to shudder in anticipation is almost struck from my mind at the shock of her mouth directly and unabashedly upon me. I lunge beneath her, my feet digging into the couch as she catches me in her mouth, sucking me in whole.

"Olivia!" I cry out, my hips twisting beneath her, but her hands clench down on my thighs, holding me pinned to the couch, open and aching.

She sucks off me, sharply, pulling a strangled moan from my lips before she shatters me once more with her tongue across my aching center.

"Jesus, please…." I sob, her hands batting desperately at her shoulders, catching in her hair.

She surges against me, her tongue drawing a quick, hard circle up around my clit with devastating precision. The tears are close now as I thrust violently beneath her, my body both screaming for and fighting against the pleasure.

It's too much, yet hardly enough for the thirst inside me. Everything I know she's felt for me, from that night at her front door until now, is bursting from her, battering me with the force of her unfettered passion. Maybe before I would've begged her to slow down, gagging on the truth that I can hardly handle each blow of desire, but not tonight. No, I wouldn't dare to stop her when just yesterday even a glance in my direction would've fed my need for her for days. No, not now, not when I am so undeserving of her gentle grace and tender love. I will take it, every agonizing, violent moment of passion, because even in the light of our bleak and painful past, I am hers - forever and always.