A/N: Here it is! Amanda's POV from what happened in the motel room. Hope you approve of this follow up, and thank you all so much for the lovely comments you left after reading part one :)

I have to agree with Liv. The boxed wine did have a suspicious aftertaste at first, but three glasses in, it really isn't that bad.

And it helps a little; Our impromptu undercover stint. The drinks.

Actually, it helped just getting out of the city, and spend time with her outside of the squad room. God knows we haven't done that in a minute.

Not because I haven't wanted to, or because she hasn't tried.

But I knew that if we did that, she would ask me how I'm doing. So I've kinda lied about Billie having a bug, and me being tired, and Jesse having a cold. Until I started to feel almost like myself again and ready to face her outside of work.

I say almost like myself, because nearly bleeding out in the middle of some random street will change you, whether you want it to or not.

It will make you reevaluate many things; Choices you've made, the way you've lived your life, your future, and so on. It might make you realize that being a cop isn't necessarily what you want to do for the rest of your career. And then you'll question the relationships in your life, the ones you came so close to losing. You'll think about who matters, who you love.

And then, as a slap in the face, or another shot aimed at your gut, you'll be forced to realize why you can't do this anymore.

One, because you don't want to risk your life every single day, no matter how important and meaningful the job feels.

Second, because you can't go on loving her. Not like this.

So you'll make some drastic decisions. And you'll hide it from everyone. And you'll delay, delay, delay. To the point where it feels like you're ready to burst.

But the drinks help. Being here helps.

It helps me forget, if only for a brief moment, that I'm a total piece of shit. And that I'm about to do something I never thought I was capable of.

Leave.

Leaving her.

And honestly, I don't know what hurts the most; Actually doing it, or not being able to tell her why.

And listen, I tried. I really did.

I've done all the things to get over her. I've dated men, and women. I've built a family, admittedly an unconventional one, with my daughters. I've worked my ass off and kept myself busy. But it hasn't worked.

And I'm losing her now.

I can feel it.

I know that I don't have the right to be bitter, not when I've basically spent the last year trying to push her into his arms.

So far, no luck. And I get it. She's scared. He left her once and she's scared he'll do it again. I get why she's having a hard time trusting him.

Honestly, I don't trust him either. Haven't even decided if I like him. And yes, it goes against every single instinct in my body, trying to convince her that he's the one. It fucking tears me apart. But, but, I'd rather see her happy, and I do believe that he loves her.

So I've been pushing her, all while pushing myself in the opposite direction.

I kissed Carisi for Christ's sake.

I mean, I wanted to. In the moment, at least. Or I thought I did. He was being all romantic and mushy with that wedding speech, and I had just downed my fourth glass of champagne (while watching Liv with Stabler. There's that too.)

So I kissed him. And for a few seconds, he kissed me back. And it felt nice enough, so I opened my mouth for him. But that's when I felt his hands on my waist, and not like he wanted me closer.

"What are you doing?" He asked, a little out of breath, his cheeks visibly flushed.

Head tilted, I took a step back. "You don't want this?"

He scoffed then. But not in a cruel way like he wanted to hurt me. He scoffed in this bless your heart kinda way that made me embarrassed first. and angry next. "You think I don't know?"

"Know what?" I said, taking another step back.

"That you're in love with someone else."

He said it so blatantly, so… not accusingly. He said it with care. And love. And I wanted to cry because it had been years, nearly ten, and I had never told anyone. Hadn't let it slip to a single soul, not even my therapist or my sponsor. No one knew that I had been utterly, totally, keep you up until 3 am in love with Olivia Benson.

"How long have you known?" I asked, because I know Carisi and he knows me, and it was clear to me that we both knew who that someone else was.

He shrugged, smiled. "Since Billie, I think. At the hospital. Or maybe I suspected something before that, but that's when I knew for sure."

(Here, I took a second to curse those goddamn postpartum hormones.)

"Just the way you looked at her-" He explained. "And the way she looked at you."

I cleared my throat then, and squared my shoulders. Because nope, absolutely not. I wasn't going to stand there and let him plant a single grain of hope in me. Not after all this time. Not when the woman in question was clinking glasses with Elliot Stabler.

"She looked at me like that because she was happy and she loves babies." It was my turn to scoff. "Not because she loves me, not, like-" I stumbled over my words both because I refused to believe that there might be some truth to what he was saying, but also because, if I squinted, it almost looked like Liv was looking in my direction.

But she was too far away, and so I moved my gaze back to Carisi.

"Like she loves you too?" He asked, and suddenly the four glasses of champagne did a collective somersault in my stomach, forcing me to cover my mouth and swallow a gag. This earned me a heartfelt chuckle from him and I punched his arm in return.

"You keep your mouth shut, alright?" I said, pressing a finger against his chest. It was meant as a threat, but it fell kinda flat because he was still smiling and I was too tipsy to sound intimidating.

"About you kissing me, or you crushing on the boss?"

I punched him again, but I also couldn't help the smirk on my face because in the midst of feeling absolutely mortified, I guess there was some relief there too. I wasn't all alone with my feelings anymore, and, and this was important, now I didn't have to spend time worrying about being a bitch for friend zoning him.

Honestly, I've never been more grateful for our friendship than after that night. Not that we ever really talked about it again. I mean, I would shoot him down pretty quickly whenever he asked. But he knew, and he was ok with it. And he never told anyone, about anything.

And then, I was the one being shot down, literally.

And now, I have a valid excuse. No one will lift an eyebrow after what happened in September.

It's better, this way. I can tell people I needed the change. That being shot made me rethink everything. Made me think about my kids, and what would happen to them if I died. I can tell people that being shot made me realize that I want to go to work, knowing I'll be home to kiss my children goodnight.

And, hello, obviously it did. None of that is a lie. All of this isn't about a girl.

But, shit. So much of it is.

And not just any girl. The girl.

The one I'm currently shouting at.

"I can't stay just because you want me to!" I yell, pointing my finger at her, retaliating after being called selfish for leaving.

Liv shakes her head as she starts pacing, arms folded tightly before throwing them out in an act of sheer frustration when she finally looks at me.

"I spent years learning how to trust you-" She says, and I kinda want to slap her for pulling the trust card. Didn't we move past that? "And now-" She continues, "when I was making arrangements for your next promotion, you just drop everything and-"

"Stop." I interrupt, my voice cold. "You don't get to just throw that out there as a way to distract me or make me feel guilty." I pause, willing myself to keep my mouth shut, but before I know what's happening, the words tumble out of me. "Maybe I'm tired of risking my life for the job. Not everyone has a death wish like you, Liv."

The silence that follows is painful, uncomfortable, and rightfully so. I know I just crossed a line, and I hold my breath as I wait for her to respond.

When she finally does, it makes me flinch.

"Is that what you think of me?" She yells, moving towards me so fast that I stumble, worried that she's about to throw a punch, realizing that I might deserve it. "Are you really that fucking stupid?"

Ok, that was neither here nor there, and now, goddamnit, now I'm crying.

Obviously, I've been called much worse than that in the past. Just last week I was a cunt, the week before I was a dumb whore. But this isn't a riled up criminal. This is Liv.

What a mess we've made, I think, and I'm grasping for a way out of this, anything to make it stop.

But I'm still crying, she's looking at me like she wants to yell more, and I want to tell her so many things.

I want to tell her the truth.

And right now, the truth is that her trapping me against this door feels like a really dangerous thing to do, because her chest is heaving against mine and I can feel her breath on my skin, and-

Wait.

She just kissed me.

She is still kissing me.

Wait.

Hands are moving too now, and I can feel her hair, tousled around my fingers as I usher her closer, and-

What's happening?

And then I say it out loud because surely she knows.

I mean, Liv has an answer to everything, so she must know what's going on?

Except she doesn't, and she tells me that right before kissing me again, and somehow the second kiss is even better than the first. Maybe because the shock is giving way to something else. Something that makes me melt and relax against her, my senses coming alive as my body fully registers hers.

Like how I can taste the boxed wine on her tongue, and suddenly it's my new favorite flavor. Or maybe I'm just already hooked on the taste of her.

I mumble a quiet "fuck" when she starts working the buttons of my shirt, and I'm starting to wonder if I actually wasn't imagining it when I caught her looking at me as I unbuttoned in front of Ray.

Either way, the shirt is open now and I whimper when she pulls my bra up and over my breasts.

God, I love how impatient she is. (And she is definitely looking.)

"Oh-" She simply says, glancing down, and I didn't know my tits could have this effect on anyone anymore. So I laugh this awkward and confused laugh. And then I pull her in for another kiss.

I keep our lips locked as she kneads my breasts and I struggle with the top button on my jeans. I really have no idea what I'm doing here but I do know that I want my pants off.

"Let me-" She mumbles against me, our hands touching when she takes over, and I nearly come on the spot because… what?

How is Olivia Benson undoing my pants right now?

How am I still standing?

But somehow she is and somehow I am. After all, we always worked so well together. And never have we been more in sync than right now, when I'm kicking off my boots and she's tugging at my jeans and-

She just dropped to her knees.

What the fuck is going on?

"Can I?" She asks, fingers already hooked in my underwear.

I want to laugh again, because here she is. The smartest woman I've ever known. Asking the dumbest question I've ever heard.

"Mhm-" I respond, rather than laughing. And just in case I wasn't being obvious enough, I nod, eagerly. "Yes."

Even though she is making it perfectly clear what she intends to do, there is just no way for me to prepare myself for what happens next; Her hands on my bare skin, her mouth on my thighs, my leg suddenly being hooked over her shoulder. And then-

Oh, christ-

I let out some strange mix between a cry and a sigh and a groan, slamming my flat hands against the door behind me for balance.

And as odd as this might sound, as clouded as my head is, my mind manages to do a sudden, unexpected time jump then. The moment I feel her mouth on me, I see us meeting in the squad room for the first time. I see us fighting in her office, and myself crying alone in the break room when she went missing. I see us outside of the courthouse as I tell her I'm pregnant with Jesse, and then I'm watching as she's being promoted. I see how she looks at me from across the room as we both wait to be called to the witness stand, and finally I see her tired eyes, looking into mine as I wake up after the surgery that saved my life. Her, kissing my forehead. Me, crying silently.

Back in this room, I might start crying again, if not for the fact that she just changed the rhythm and I am so overwhelmed by pleasure that I can hardly breathe.

I'm about to come in her mouth and I still don't understand how we ended up here and what's happening to me, to us.

My head spins as I say the words "don't stop", and it feels like the one leg I'm standing on is about to give in, but then her hands are on my ass, oh, and I trust that she won't let me fall.

This can't be real, I think. One moment she's making me cry, and now I'm begging her not to stop.

So I peer down, to convince my brain that this is not just a figment of my imagination, only to find her brown eyes looking up at me.

And as if her tongue wasn't enough to propel me towards what is undoubtedly the most intense orgasm of my life, she smiles. And that does it.

Holy shit, that does it.

With anyone else, I might've been embarrassed by the sounds I'm making. But this still feels so unreal that maybe I'm not actually making any sound at all? Maybe this is all in my head? I mean, I've had dreams like this before. Is that what's happening?

No, fuck, jesus, it can't be. I'm coming too hard for this to just be a fantasy.

I feel it everywhere. From where her tongue is currently moving in a tight circle, to her hands kneading my ass. I feel it in my fingers, now tangled in her hair, and in my toes, curling against the carpet.

I think I'm trying to mumble something, but my mouth isn't really working, and neither is my brain, so I give into the sensation instead, until I have nothing left to give and it feels like I'm about to pass out.

"Shit-" She says, kissing the inside of my thigh before she carefully lowers my trembling leg. Her lips brush over that spot on my stomach where a scar from the C-section is barely visible. She kisses my belly, the scar from September, between my breasts. All the way up, until we're face to face.

"That-" I try, but I give up because I'm still not ready to form any coherent words. So we just stand there for a moment, and that's when I notice that she too seems a little surprised.

"I've never done that before." She tells me, and she looks so ridiculously hot using the back of her hand to wipe her chin, I almost don't catch what she's telling me. But then I do.

"Seriously?" I ask, and it comes out funny so I clear my throat and correct myself. "Sorry, I just thought-"

She shrugs, smiling. "You wouldn't be the first to assume."

I want to know more about that. I want to ask if it's true, that I'm actually the first woman she has ever been with.

But now she's kissing me again, I can taste myself on her tongue, and I'm suddenly hyper aware of the fact that except for my open shirt and the pulled up bra, I'm naked and she's fully dressed.

"Off-" I mumble against her lips, impatiently tugging at her top.

The first layer is easy. It falls to the floor soon after. The other requires a bit more strength and I don't have any, not after what she just did between my legs.

"I can't feel my hands-" I laugh, shaking my fingers, grateful when she finishes the job, efficiently pulling the tank up and over her head.

She's wearing a white lace bra, and I already knew that because she made it impossible not to stare earlier tonight, at the bar. But now I can stare without feeling like a creep, and it's fucking amazing.

Finally, I'm able to say what I've been thinking all night, for years, since our very first handshake.

"You're so beautiful."

"You're beautiful." She responds and I want to cry again, but more than that I want to touch her. So I do just that, leaning in for a kiss as I brush my fingers over her breast, my free hand fumbling with her belt.

I love how reactive she is, how she shivers and gasps, how I can feel her nipple harden under my hand.

"This ok?" I mumble when I finally get her belt open. And even though I'm pretty sure it's more than ok, I need her to confirm it. I need her to tell me that she wants this.

Rather than telling me, she looks at me, her stare unwavering as she reaches behind her back to undo her bra, and I feel myself gulp as it falls to the floor. And then I watch as she continues, suddenly unable to do anything else. My mouth goes dry and my hands numb as her belt falls too, and then, layer after layer, she reveals herself to me.

I swallow again.

"You're overdressed." She says, and I, too dumbfounded to speak, simply nod and remove what's left of my clothes.A second later, her lips are back on mine, her tongue back in my mouth and together we stumble towards the bed.

There, we end up as a breathless, tangled mess; Hands touching and mouths kissing, her on top, and then me. The room spinning around us, to the point where everything that isn't her, looks blurred and distorted.

I want her close to me, as close as possible. So I coax her up in a sitting position, kneeling behind her, hands roaming her chest, her arms, her stomach. The feel of her skin under my hands like a drug I'm instantly addicted to.

And I do know a thing or two about addiction.

This, is by far the best I've encountered.

So I let my hands roam freely as I kiss her neck and her back, and all the places my mouth can reach, not allowing even an inch of space between us.

"Amanda-" She breathes and I've never heard my name spoken like that before. Sure, I've had lovers in the past who said my name in the heat of the moment, but not like this. Not with so much emotion.

"I've got you." I say, close to her ear, moving one hand down, down and down until I'm met with a sensation that makes me moan loudly, louder than her even.

I make sure to tell her how amazing she feels, and she seems to enjoy that. So I go on, telling her how wet she is. And how incredible it is to finally be inside of her.

With my free arm, I hold her tight against me, my head dizzy because I can feel her heartbeat, and I can feel how close she's getting. Dizzy because she says my name again, and suddenly she's grabbing my wrist, holding it still as she rolls her hips, her head falling back only to land on my shoulder.

"Come-" I tell her.

And then, she does. And I use my hand, the one not wedged between her legs, to tilt her head, kissing her deeply, swallowing every moan that escapes her. I kiss her as if this might be the only time I get to do it. Because even though her words, her body, her face, tells me that this is more than just one night, I can't be sure.

So I kiss her, as if she might slip away any second.

I kiss her, until she has more or less recovered from the climax, and she turns, only to sink down against the mattress, pulling me down with her.

I might not be able to see us in the mirror but I know that we look good together. Her skin, tan against the paleness of mine, strong arms, and her long legs, her open mouth and my lips now wrapped around her nipple.

There might've been a time when I missed the body I had back in the day, pre pregnancy, pre getting shot, pre a certain age. But here? Now? I feel good. I feel strong and healthy with her. She makes me feel strong, healthy, and attractive in a way I'm not sure I've ever felt before.

And my fucking god she's perfect.

I make sure to tell her that too. In as many ways as I can. And when she ducks her head shyly, I grab her chin, gently, to make her look at me.

"I mean it, Liv."

"Ok." She whispers.

"Ok." I smile, leaning down to kiss her, my leg slipping in between hers, and I gasp when I feel her against my thigh; Wet, and ready for more.

Lifting myself up again, I align my core with hers, grabbing the back of her thigh to use it for support as I start to move. This is when I realize that she definitely wasn't lying about this being her first time with a woman, and I love how her eyes widen, how she gasps when she feels me against her.

Still, as I'm chasing yet another release, I want to honor that. I want her to feel safe, and cherished, and I really am trying to slow things down, but-

"Harder-" She begs, and, well, technically she's still the boss. So I move faster, and harder, and for a few blissful minutes, it works.

Until-

"Shit-" I hiss, eyes squeezed shut as I instinctively move a hand to my stomach and the scar that is still, after three months, very much pink and noticeable.

"Hey-" She says, covering my hand with hers. "You ok?"

"Mm-" I nod, giving myself a few seconds to catch my breath, the pain now a steady throb and not the sudden, sharp stab it started out as. Then, when it feels like I'm not dying anymore, and with our hands still connected, I slowly start to move again.

She might moan, but she looks worried.

"We can stop."

"No-" I shake my head. "Just, keep your hand there."

Our eyes meet, and I know that she's thinking what I'm thinking. How close I came to not being here anymore. How close she came, to losing me.

It sets something off in both of us, I think. Igniting a new rush of heat, that makes her lift her hips, as I roll mine. There might still be a hint of worry in her eyes, but it doesn't take long for that to subside only to be replaced by lust and passion and something that tells me that she's about to fall apart, in the best way there is.

And then, when she does, and I collapse on top of her, there's no pain at all anymore.

Ok, maybe a little.

But it's so fucking worth it.

"I love you." She breathes, as the tail end of her climax makes her writhe and curl her legs around me.

Leaning my forehead on her shoulder, and after mostly holding them back since our first kiss, tears stain my chin as I process her words and the meaning behind them.

And finally, "I love you too."

Minutes later, I sigh as I rest my head on her chest. And I could so easily fall asleep like this. My body tired and sated and aching all over.

Except, that's when I see it. Our reflection in the mirror.

My first thought is that I was right. We do look good together. We just… fit. And I allow myself a moment to gaze over her body, appreciating every single detail that makes her, her.

But when our eyes meet, my heart skips a beat, as if I'm only now realizing what just happened.

I slept with my boss, I think. And the thought sets off an immediate chain of reactions.

Sadness first, because no matter what happens next, she won't be my boss much longer. I will still pack up my desk and hand in my badge on Monday, and never return as detective Rollins.

Then, while the sadness still lingers, a wave of something else. Something that reminds me of a different boss and a different motel room, in a different state and time.

I did this because I wanted it to happen, I tell myself. This is different and she is not him. But still. I close my eyes, forcing the memory away, because the last thing I want is for him to ruin this too.

As if she's reading my thoughts, she places a kiss on the top of my head, gently bringing me back to here and now. Reminding me that I'm safe and willingly curled up next to her, not trapped and pinned under him.

She doesn't say anything, and she doesn't have to. I know that she knows. And it's enough.

So we lay like that in silence, until my mind takes a different route and I feel the sudden urge to make a joke, nodding towards the mirror.

"Good thing you noticed that camera before this happened."

She laughs, I smile, and for a second all's right with the world. But we need to talk about this, I know that. I need to know if this was a one night thing, or something more.

Please, dear god, let there be something more.

"Are you… ok?" I ask, hesitantly.

It takes a while, too long, for her to answer, and I freeze against her, feeling like I can't breathe until she opens her mouth to speak.

"I don't know." She finally says, and it does nothing to calm me down. So I turn a little and lift my head, needing to look at her, to read her face.

"Are you really leaving?" She asks and I give her a moment before I nod.

"I'm leaving SVU." I say. And that's when it hits me. This decision might've been made, thinking I needed to move on from her. But now, I realize it was the right decision regardless. "But I'm not leaving you." I continue. "Unless, that's what you want."

Her response is a quick "no".

"So-" Dragging the word out, I run my fingers over her collarbone, tracing her jaw. "What do you want?"

"It's kinda terrifying, saying it out loud."

"Try?"

"I want you. Us." She smiles, and only now do I notice that she has tears in her eyes. "I think I've wanted this for a long time. But I just didn't think it was an option. I thought maybe you and Carisi-"

"And I thought you and Stabler." I interrupt, and now we're both smiling.

"So what's next-" She says, shrugging. "Carisi and Elliot hooking up?"

"Not gonna lie, I would pay good money to see that."

"Please-" She laughs. "They wouldn't last a week."

I agree with a snicker, before I lift myself up, hovering over her. "But we will?"

"Yeah-" She says. "We will."

In response, I do the only thing that makes sense.

I make love to her. Less hurried than before, but not for the lack of passion.

Slower, because it feels like we're making up for all the time we didn't do this. All those years where I didn't get to touch her and find out that she has very sensitive ears. And that right before she comes she goes silent, holding her breath, before she cries out this hoarse sound that made me jump the first time I heard it. Oh, and I learn that she loves it when I talk dirty.

In return, she finds out just how sensitive my breasts are, and that I swear a lot. I let her in on secrets I usually don't reveal to the people I sleep with until they've shared a bed with me for at least a couple of months and I feel safe enough to share. Like how I love having my hair pulled, and being taken from behind.

I mean, I already trust her with my life, so what's a little kink.

That immediate addiction I felt, manifests itself in brushing my lips over her hip, and in intertwining our fingers. I get hooked on our open mouth kisses and the way she nuzzles her head in the crook of my neck. And now that I know that this is not a one night thing, but something that might last, possibly, forever, I get a little teary eyed when she collapses next to me, wrapping herself around my body, and falls asleep.

In the morning, we'll kiss goodbye outside of my car, and I will go back to the city, picking up my girls on the way. Jesse will ask why I'm smiling so much, and before I can come up with a temporary lie, Billie will ask if I'm having a baby, and then Jesse will cry because she doesn't want another sister. Distracted, for now.

Me and Liv will text throughout the day, and she will call me late at night when the kids are sound asleep. We won't say much, but it will make me all giddy and awkward when she says "get some sleep, Georgia peach" - Convincing me that I have officially lost my mind when I'm still blushing fifteen minutes later.

On the following Monday we will cry and hug in her office, feeling sad not because we're saying goodbye, but because it's the last time I'm there as detective Rollins. We will refrain from kissing because there's a full squad room paying attention. A squad room that knows nothing about how me and the girls are going to Captain Benson's house for a sleepover in just a few hours.

Standing there, she will tell me that she loves me and I will tell her right back, and later that night, finally alone, we'll repeat those words under the covers in her bed.

Not long after, that bed becomes our bed.

And in that bed, I will tell her, a little spontaneously but not really, that I want to marry her. She'll laugh and think I'm just joking, but when she realizes that I'm not, her answer will be a simple "ok".

And twelve years after shaking her hand, and falling in love with her, I will one morning wake up as Olivia Benson's wife.

And yeah, you guessed it.

It's fucking awesome.