#justmurder

“What in the hell are you doing, Rollins?” Olivia growls, reaching for the blonde’s arm.

Amanda tugs her forearm from the lieutenant's grip, using her other shoulder to push open the fire escape door. When the wind hits her it’s icy cold, the corner of her mouth still burning a little with the impact from the other idiot’s fist.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” she spits, speckles of blood spattering onto the dirty snow.

“If you recall,” Olivia snaps at her, barely a step behind. “it was you doing all the fighting. You can’t just start something like that when you know you can’t finish it.”

“I could have dropped that asshole.”

“And lost your badge?” the lieutenant mocks, eyebrows raised. “As far as I’m concerned I did you a favour.”

“Then stop being so damn concerned!” Amanda bites, voice raised, as she turns on her heel. “You might be my lieutenant, but outside of the precinct, you have no right to order me around unless we’re friendly or fucking and we’re not either so don’t you dare open your mouth and tell me what to do again.”

Olivia doesn’t make an effort to step back, rather, she tilts her head and steels her gaze. Amanda’s breath is hot and metallic against her face, blood smeared across her lip and chin from where she’d been hit only minutes before. She still smells of the whiskey that had been knocked onto her lap.

“Go and clean yourself up, detective,” Olivia tells her, shaking her head. “or better yet, go home.”

In the seconds that follow, there’s not enough empty space in the open sky to accommodate their tension, palpable between the inch or so that separates their chests. Both heaving.

“So which is it?” Amanda asks spitefully, the wind’s breeze blowing her hair against Olivia’s cheek. “Because honestly I don’t think you have the patience for the former or the gall for the latter.”

“Rollins, you fuck-”

Olivia’s muttered cuss is cut short as Amanda’s lips connect with hers. They are heated and wet with blood, tasting of copper coins as it seeps into Olivia’s own mouth. The lieutenant doesn’t fight her, not in the way she’d considered. When the brunette’s palms fall flat to her shoulder’s it’s to shove, Amanda’s back colliding with the cement wall after a few miscalculated steps in the ankle-deep snow.

“Why,” Olivia seethes, fingers already tearing at the buttons to Amanda’s blouse. “do you always test me?”

“Obviously for this, darlin’.” Amanda chuckles, dryly.

Olivia wants to scold her, tell her that if she’d return to simply being charming rather than thoroughly unruly and reckless that maybe they could do this more. But she doesn’t quite think that’s true. She knows that she needs the push, the pull, the mess that Amanda brings to her life and her squad.

“You’re right,” Olivia mumbles, dragging her lips up Amanda’s neck to whisper in her ear. “I have no patience to waste on being your friend right now.”

“Told you so.” Amanda husks, haughtily, through her swollen lip.

“But,” the lieutenant flicks her tongue, sternly. “my gall is debateable, don’t you think?”

Amanda tips her head back, dirty blonde hair matting against the concrete as it tangles in its ridges. Olivia kisses all the way back down along her throat, hands holding her wrists firmly to the wall as she squirms.

“I asked you a question.” she reminds, sinking her teeth into the top of Amanda’s breast.

The detective’s hips buck in her direction, back bowing inwards, seeking the whole of Olivia’s body against hers.

“Prove it.” Amanda mutters, gaze snapping towards the brunette’s.

Olivia breathes warmly against Amanda’s breast in the seconds it takes her to truly consider, leaving a patch of dewy moisture on the skin where her lips had puckered.

“Are you sure about that?” she asks, a mocking lilt to her voice that still refuses to cover the genuine request for permission.

Amanda’s fingers twitch from beneath where the lieutenant holds her wrists, index finger stretching just far enough to run across the brunette’s olive toned skin in confirmation. As the action is completed, Olivia surges upwards to connect their lips. Wet, coppery, chaos of teeth and tongue and lips so hot in comparison to the Winter air that nips at all the uncovered places between them. As they kiss, Olivia releases her wrists, welcoming the slender fingers that tangle through her hair and drag out the elastic that holds it up.

“You smell like whiskey.” the brunette chuckles, her lips running along Amanda’s lightly freckled cheek.

“At this point I probably taste like it too.” Amanda husks, suggestively, a smile tugging at her lips as she turns her face in Olivia’s direction.

Olivia’s teeth show again, glimmering like devious ocean pearls between blood smeared lips.

“I guess I’ll just have to taste you then, won’t I?”

Amanda shudders as Olivia’s hand trails warmth torturously slow down her abdomen, fingers skimming whiskey soaked skin and pulled apart clothing that still feels damp to the touch. When she reaches the waistband of Amanda’s jeans, the blonde’s blouse thoroughly untucked and haphazard around the dividing line, she smirks. Olivia feels the hitch of the detective’s breath, lips pressed firmly to her throat, as her fingers pull the button from its hole. There are indents along Amanda’s hips from where wet denim had crinkled and pressed, running red along the length of space that Olivia’s fingertips fan across and down. She buries herself in the space between Amanda’s shoulder and neck, blonde tresses flittering and tangling across her skin, as her fingers draw a circle across the outside of the woman’s panties. When she clicks her tongue, goosebumps rise across Amanda’s skin.

“So wet…” she mumbles, words slurred along Amanda’s pulse, syllables dribbling right down to the pit of the blonde’s stomach.

Amanda’s mouth is dry with arousal, too thick to form any witty retort. Instead she whimpers. Olivia skims slick flesh with three fingers, feeling Amanda’s body roll against hers. She is wound around the detective’s frame, head on her shoulder, a hand down her pants, the fingers of her other hand wound tightly around the blonde’s bicep. If anyone were to walk by it would appear as though they were one person, a twisted tree with roots buried in the snow, and only one hole of light peeking through between them.

“Come on,” Amanda baits, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she inhales. “show me that gall you insist you have.”

Olivia knows that the blonde is just teasing her to get what she wants, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t work. When Amanda opens her mouth to speak again, the lieutenant thoroughly savours taking away her words as she pushes two fingers inside the wet heat that they’d been circling.

“How’s that?” she teases back, grinning as a bead of sweat makes its way between the valley of Amanda’s breasts.

Instead of awaiting an answer she draws her fingers out, feeling the wetness that clings to them, until only the tips linger inside Amanda’s body.

“Say please.” Olivia instructs, quiet, teasing.

This part is unnecessary, but she likes the way Amanda’s teeth grit as she considers her options. Both of them know that Olivia will give her what she wants one way or another, at least in this mood she will. The lieutenant derives nearly as much pleasure as her detective in this instance.

“Please…” Amanda growls finally, a whiny lilt to her voice despite the gravel that seems to be lodged in her throat.

Olivia obliges hastily, her fingers sliding back inside the blonde with little resistance. Beneath the sound of Amanda’s heavy breaths, and the cars that continue along the road, the slapping wetness between her legs can be heard easily.

“Are you going to start anymore fights?” Olivia questions, her voice is husky and low but Amanda knows that what she’s asking requests a true answer.

“I’ll try not to.” she pants in response, air escaping from her lungs as Olivia continues the movement of her hand.

Olivia reconnects their lips messily, her own movements uncalculated as she feels every inch of Amanda’s heat around her fingers. The feeling alone is enough to set a fire between her own thighs.

With her eyes closed, Olivia can hear an animal over by the trashcan, something inside her both wanting to laugh and recoil at the realisation of where they currently fuck, but they’re too far to stop now. She loses herself in the sensation of Amanda’s tongue along her teeth, the detective’s hand fisted in her hair as she urges them closer.

“So are you going to let me tell you what to do now?” Olivia whispers, smiling against Amanda’s lips as her thumb circles the woman’s clit.

Amanda moans into Olivia’s mouth, hips moving beneath the brunette’s hand to gain the friction she so desires. She can feel the spikes of arousal in her veins, she’d be so close if only Olivia would give it to her.

“How about,” the lieutenant husks, as if Amanda’s thoughts were aloud. “if I tell you to cum?”

As she utters the word against Amanda’s lips, her fingers still - just for a breath. In that breath Amanda feels the click of being so close that the next time Olivia touches her, she will do just as she has been asked.

When Olivia rocks her hand between Amanda’s thighs it slides deep, easily becoming caught in the wetness, just as it had been before she’d spoken. She draws tight circles on the woman’s clit, feeling every muscle ripple to welcome her fingers. Amanda’s breath is hot on her cheek, nails of both hands buried in her shoulders as she is matched, thrust for thrust.

“Cum.” she commands, breathily.

Amanda obeys, mostly without any urging on her part, body wound so tight that the brunette’s continued movements simply uncoil her. The scream she releases is swallowed by the city sounds, echoing through the music of the bar they’re both supposed to be drinking in, washed away by the voices inside without comment. When the tingling between her legs subsides, and heat that had enveloped her skin gives way to cold, she laughs.

“What’s so funny?” Olivia asks her, smirking as she does up the button on Amanda’s jeans.

“I must look like shit.” Amanda shrugs, eyes shining.

Olivia looks the woman up and down. Amanda’s blouse is still open, stomach prickled with goosebumps, her hair is a dishevelled mess. The detective’s lip is swollen and red, a short split where gooey blood still sticks.

“For someone that got hit in the face like twenty minutes ago?” Olivia asks, smiling. “You’ve definitely looked worse.”

Amanda blushes a little, dipping her head to fix the buttons of her shirt. It remains crinkled across her torso.

“So what’s the verdict?” she questions, shyly. “Do I taste like a distillery?”

Olivia’s eyes flash mischievously, taking a step towards the blonde. Amanda’s gaze follows the fingers that she drags between her lips, licking her own as they linger there. Olivia releases them with a pop, wiping the saliva on her jeans before she replies.