Terry - Compulsion

Compulsion

                She picked up the oversized sunglasses that sat beside her on the seat and slid them over her eyes. After pulling up the hood of the thin sweater she wore, she stepped from the car and hurried into the house.

“I think Mommy’s home,” Tony whispered to Isabelle as the little girl handed him her favorite stuffed lamb then he acted as if he was talking to the lamb, “Mommy is home Lambie.”

                Isabelle giggled at his silly antics and reached to retrieve Lambie, babbling, “Dog.”

“Not dog, Lambie,” Kerry said pulling Isabelle into her arms. “How’s my little peanut?” she scattered kisses over her cheeks. Isabelle reached for her mother’s ear, rubbing it with her tiny hand.  Kerry turned her attention to Tony who sat watching from the couch. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he smiled, kissing her when she leaned in close.

“You didn’t wait for me,” she pouted.

                Tony shifted uneasily in his seat sensing her disappointment and hoping to avoid an argument. They generally commuted to and from work together and waited for one another if one or the other had later scenes. He would watch her film her late scenes, she would watch him film his. Any excuse to be around her was a welcome opportunity for him.

“I thought I’d bring Isabelle home,” he began, not meeting her eyes. “We stopped at the farmer’s market and bought some strawberries and tomatoes. Dinner should be ready soon.”

                Tony picked up Isabelle and walked in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you gonna help me finish up dinner, Belle?” he lifted her over his head eliciting peals of laughter as he blew raspberries on her belly.  When they reached the counter he reached into the cabinet, removing two glasses and a sippy cup. He handed the cup to Isabelle who swung the vessel round and round, “Dadadada.”

“Okay let’s set your place,” Tony tilted Isabelle so she could put her cup down on the table in front of her highchair. He strapped her into her seat then brought her plate, toddler spoon and fork to the table.

“Mamamama,” the toddler said, banging her fork on her plate.

“I’ll get the food then we can call Mama,” Tony smiled, kissing her messy dark curls and returning to the stove. After filling the serving dishes, Tony carried them to the table along with a bottle of San Pellegrino. He poured the water into two glasses, making sure Isabelle couldn’t reach them before turning to go find Kerry.

“It smells delicious,” she smiled, greeting him halfway through the living room. “Such a long day. I’m starving.”

                Tony didn’t answer, instead looping his arm around her waist and leading her to the table.

“Mama,” giggled Isabelle as they approached. “Mama….Dada….”

“Are you hungry Belle?” Tony spooned a small helping of roasted vegetables and whole wheat pasta onto her plate.

“No,” Isabelle shook her head vigorously. “Mama Dada.”

                Kerry laughed at her daughter’s response, watching her shake her fork. “Peanut you have to eat. It’s yummy.”

                Tony served Kerry, enjoying the glow that emanated from her when she was at home with Isabelle. He took a bite as he watched two of the most important people in his life smile and babble at one another. They were both gorgeous, Isabelle a miniature Kerry, and he loved them both more than he dared admit to anyone but those closest to him. Kerry turned, catching him staring, a blush rising to her cheeks.

“What?” she whispered, her eyes shifting to her plate.

“Nothing,” his voice was velvety soft, emotions brimming just beneath the surface.  He slid his right hand into her left. It seemed like it had been days since he’d felt that soft skin against his despite the fact that they had managed to carve out an hour for themselves before Isabelle woke up that morning.

                The rest of the meal was filled with semi-awkward silences punctuated by Isabelle’s screeches of “Mama”, “Dada”, and “Dog”. When they finished Tony cleaned Isabelle’s face and hands then bounced up the stairs, Isabelle laughing all the way.

                Kerry heard the bath water running as she finished putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher. She smiled at the thought of Tony and Isabelle, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was troubling Tony.  He doted on Isabelle, reading to her, handling bath time, playing with her in the yard, and taking her to the beach. She counted her lucky stars that she was able to find a man who was equally as loving to her daughter as he was to her.

                Tony knelt next to the tub and dumped Isabelle’s foam letters into the water before sitting her in the warm water.

“Should we do our letters Belly?” he cooed as she picked up two of the letters and began madly splashing.  “Here is an A,” he began. “A is for apple.”

“Dada,” Isabelle replied as she continued to splash.

“Here’s an I for Isabelle,” he continued. “And a K for Kerry.”

“Mama,” shrieked Isabelle.

“Yes, Mama,” he said quietly. “Kerry is your pretty Mama.”

“Mamamama,” she sang, splashing and flashing a toothy grin.

                Kerry stood in the doorway watching and listening to the conversation between the two loves of her life. Tony’s white t-shirt was wet and his rippling muscles shown beneath. She watched his arms flex as he washed Belle’s hair then marveled at his near perfect physique when he leaned into the tub to wrap the toddler in her plush hooded duck towel.

“Mama,” called a soaking wet Isabelle looking over Tony’s shoulder.

“I’ll get her into her jammies,” Kerry’s voice was a rasp as she took Isabelle from his arms. She ran her hand along the wet sheer fabric that covered his chest warming the room instantly. His heart drummed beneath her palm and she licked her lips at the memory of his body pressed against hers.  “Hopefully she’ll fall asleep quickly.”

“Do you want me to come in for a bedtime story?” he asked, attempting to ignore the effect her hand had on him.

“I’ll just put on some music for her,” Kerry’s cheeks pinked, her skin damp with anticipation. She then added in a seductive tone, “It’s been a really long day. I’m just looking forward to going to bed.”

                Tony, either missing her point or being purposely obtuse, she wasn’t sure, replied, “You go ahead to bed. I’ll read to her.”

“No,” Kerry urged, a little too anxiously. “I mean I was hoping you’d come to bed with me.”

“Okay,” Tony acknowledged with a shrug. “Good night my little bug. Can I have kisses?”

“No no no,” sang Isabelle. “Mamamama.”

                He nibbled on Isabelle’s chubby arm then kissed her cheeks and forehead, “Night night.”

“Dadadada,” Isabelle flailed her arms and legs.

                Tony and Kerry both laughed at the boisterous toddler. Kerry carried Isabelle into her bedroom as Tony wandered to the bedroom, pulling his shirt over his head and hanging it to dry in the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and pulled on a pair of pajama pants then crawled beneath the covers. Staring at the ceiling, he thought about the difficult season they were about to conclude. The arduous scenes Kerry had to shoot, the smirks he was forced to endure from Scott, and how little opportunity he’d had to work with Kerry. She was so sweet, always a smile for whoever she was working with and never a complaint about the script. He wondered if she really cared that much to work with him anymore. These days she seemed just as happy next to Bellamy or Scott at a table read as she was next to him. And he realized it was fiction but the addition of another love interest for Olivia stoked his jealousy. Maybe he was biased, but he would always believe that Fitz was the best man for Olivia.

                When Kerry shuffled into the bedroom she could see that Tony was a million miles away. She stripped off her clothes, changing into a semi-sheer nightie before gingerly climbing into bed. She scooted herself closer and lay her head on his chest. His hand distractedly found her back, caressing a familiar pattern over her partially exposed flesh.

“She went right to sleep. You must have tired her out this afternoon.”

                Tony didn’t answer, just continued to stare at the ceiling. Kerry lifted her head so she was able to look into his face.

“Are you alright?” she asked, brushing her palm along his cheek.

                Tony shifted his gaze to her, “Fine,” was all he offered along with a weak smile and an abstemious kiss to her forehead.

“I’m going to say I don’t believe you,” she returned with a nervous laugh. She nibbled her lip, her palms clammy.

“Really, Ker. I’m fine,” he assured.

“Then is something wrong with me?” she probed.

                He realized that his anxiety and all that was weighing on his mind was obvious. He didn’t want her to know that he was upset, mostly because that would necessitate an explanation on his part. And he was sure that his insecurities would seem even more unreasonable out loud than they did in his mind.

“Nothing is wrong, Sweetie. I’m just thinking,” he offered half-heartedly.

“Well I don’t think I’ve ever managed to keep lingerie on this long around you.” She stuck out her lower lip, giving him her best puppy dog face.

                Tony laughed, a slightly more convincing chuckle. He kissed her lower lip, hoping she would let the subject drop.

“Is it work? Did something happen today? Is that why you left?” He could almost see the wheels turning and he knew she wasn’t going to let it drop.

                Tony debated whether he should admit his uncertainties to Kerry. Finally, he released a large sigh. It was going to sound absurd but he needed to get it off his chest.

“It’s just…you know…we haven’t had a lot of scenes together. I left tonight because I can’t stand to watch you shoot anymore love scenes with Scott and Brian. Liv is fucking every guy on that show but me.”

                He waited, held his breath bracing for her response. She looked shocked, clearly expecting him to have said something different.

                She sat up and thought for a moment. “Well I have no say in what Olivia does or doesn’t do,” she tried to keep the defensiveness out of her voice.

“I know,” he replied quickly. He did know, he did understand, but it didn’t make him hate the situation any less. “It’s just like I told Andy, watching you do love scenes with Scott is like watching the woman I love have sex with another man.”

                Kerry looked into his eyes without speaking. The issue cumbrous, the air more viscous following his admission. He looked self-conscious, exposed and raw before her as a result of his confession.

“The season is almost over,” she explained, her tone dull.

“I know,” Tony sighed, breaking their eye contact.

                Kerry shifted so they were face to face, her breasts pressing against his firm chest. He saw what he thought was a smirk cross her face. Her breath tickled his face when she spoke.

“And about Olivia…”

“Yeah?” his voice cracked with anticipation.

“She isn’t real. What I do when I’m Olivia isn’t real. Just like everything you do as Fitz is pretend.” Her mouth was closer. “Besides, you know love scenes are awkward for me.”

“They certainly don’t seem –“he was cut off by her mouth heavy against his.

“I hate love scenes with anyone,” she whispered beside his ear. “I hate love scenes with Brian and Scott because even pretending with anyone else feels wrong.” She pulled back, searching his blue eyes. “I hate love scenes with you because it takes all of my restraint not to be Kerry.”

“Why are you afraid to be Kerry?” he asked in a hush, concentrating on her perfect features. He looked into brown eyes that had captured him the first time he looked into them, the impeccable contour of her cheekbones, lips that were flawless, alluring, and scrumptious.

                Her hand grazed his taut abs, tracing the contours of every undulation. The flimsy fabric separating their bodies did little to shield either from the heat emanating from the other. Her damp center pressed against his thigh. He was unable to stifle a sough of pleasure and he grew instantly hard.

“Because Kerry likes to do things like this to Tony,” she explained with a stroke of his ample length.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, eyes falling closed.

“You like?” she asked under hooded lids, feigning shyness.

“Mmm,” was all Tony could manage in return. He couldn’t resist the urge to pump into her hand, prolonging the contact of her breathtaking strokes.

                She surveyed his beautiful face twisted with the resplendent pain of gratification. His tongue darted over his lips, moistening the skin left parched from his clipped breaths. The curl that frequently fell across his forehead fluttered as her breath caressed his face, her hand setting a quickened pace. He was certain she was trying to drive him mad, some sort of payback for being envious of her love scenes. Dampness gathered on his brow and he concentrated on the thunder of his heart beating in his ears, the wind blowing the trees outside, the sound of soft snoring from the baby monitor. Anything to keep his orgasm at bay. He was greedy; he needed this to last. His heart beat louder, harder, feeling as though it would burst through his sternum at any second. Her hand drove him higher until the pandemonium of his climax loomed large.

“Jesus,” the word tore from him in a near shout as his eyes flew open and he rolled her beneath him. He was all hands and lips, franticly tearing at what little clothing she wore, unconcerned about its condition when he tore it from her body.

“Mine,” he huffed out, entering her with one long brutalizing stroke. “Mine,” he repeated when he brought his hands to her breasts and his teeth to her clavicle.

                Kerry’s back arched as he plunged deeper and deeper. Her hands groped at him, his biceps, his ass, his thighs, finally landing in his curls. She craved the way he anchored her, how he found a different way to please her each time they made love, his unmitigated abandon. When he changed the angle of his thrusts and his mouth moved to hers she knew he would end her soon, it was just a matter of how.

                He suckled her tongue, drew it into his mouth and stroked it with his own. He tasted every inch of her mouth while his hands surveyed every bit of her needy flesh. She responded to every groan of his with a moan of her own. The room heated and pillows fell to the floor. He pulled back to watch her, he liked to feast his eyes on the pleasure he brought her revealed in her radiant features. His assault didn’t let up, the length and level of his arousal brutal, her breasts bouncing as he gave her full, hard strokes.

“Tony,” she hissed.        

                That was all he needed to end her torment. He leaned back on his heels, the loss of his weight on her causing her to whimper. The change of angle and how acquiescent she looked, obliterated what little was left of his self-control. He gripped her calf, lifting it to rest on his shoulder, before his hands dug into her thighs and he picked up his tempo. When his left hand slid to her center it took only seconds, only the lightest touch to bring the tumult of her climax throbbing through her. She writhed and arched as she shattered before him, a splintering of atoms.

                He slowed, lazing in and out, his own orgasm crackling in the pit of his belly. It hummed and whirred, clamoring for release as she ran her nails blithely along his chest and abs. Each trace of her nails on his skin, a mellifluous reminder that there were still many hours of uninterrupted intimacy ahead. His jaw clenched and his muscles quivered, his breaths coming in short bursts of sweet agony. Her legs throbbed from the force of his hands and the friction lit the flame of her orgasm anew.  This was hotter, more intense than the first, burning like the fuse on a stick of dynamite. She tried to wriggle away, to find a reprieve from the onslaught but he held her there, captive to her pleasure.  When his thrusts grew ragged she gripped him tighter, bracing for combustion. Her name ripped from him on one final plunge leaving them in a spent heap.

“Sorry,” he panted. “I just…I…” he searched for the right words then relented with a chuckle. “Can’t form a coherent sentence.”

                Kerry returned his laugh with one of her own, lacing the fingers of her left hand with his right. He lifted their joined hands to his lips, lagging kisses over her knuckles. They lay quietly, only the sounds of their slowing breaths and Isabelle’s tiny snores through the baby monitor, tinting the silence. Their quiet moments were some of Kerry’s favorite. Both had busy schedules, appearances, interviews, commitments to those causes closest to them. For Kerry it was an immense comfort to know that regardless of where they were, together or apart, they would share at least a few quiet moments each night. Sometimes there was a phone separating them, others like now, only the air resonant with desire hung between them. She tried futilely to stifle a yawn.

“I guess that’s my answer to whether you want to do it again,” his head eased in her direction, fixing her with his eyes.

                Her head turned to him, her lips pressed together and her chin tucked slightly. The effortless movement of her hand brought a cheeky smirk to his face as it closed around his thickness.

“I always want to do it again with you,” she purred as she tasted the salty flesh just below his jaw, rising to straddle his thighs.

                The second, third, and fourth times they made love were frivolous, rapacious, and powerful hours. Finally, they were unable to fight their fatigue and both fell into a deep slumber tangled in one another.

X-X

“Last table read of the season,” Kerry grinned, taking a sip of her white tea.

“Yeah…” Tony seemed lost in thought.

                The morning had been much the same as every other morning they shared, showering, dressing, feeding Isabelle. But Kerry noticed Tony only kissed her once, a good morning kiss when he woke up, most certainly not the norm.

“What’s the matter?” she asked quietly, placing her hand on his knee. He slid his chair a little closer to hers, hoping no one else in the room could see when his hand covered hers.

“Just looking forward to getting this season over with,” he admitted. “I’m sure Olivia will end up running off somewhere with Jake or meeting some other guy sent to seduce her. Fitz will probably suggest to Mellie that they renew their vows. No matter, it’s not likely to go well for Fitz and Olivia.”

“As long as everything’s okay with us,” Kerry surveyed the room, gauging if anyone was paying attention to them before sliding her hand a bit further up Tony’s thigh.

                He jumped in his seat, his ears and neck burning red.

“Stop it,” he chided in a loud whisper.  “Behave yourself.”

                They continued to play beneath the table as the table read got underway. Chancing brief glances at one another, scrawling notes on the pad that sat between them, they passed the time until they neared the end of the script. When they turned to the final page Kerry’s nails dug into Tony’s denim covered leg. He squeezed her hand in return.

                As they finished up the table read Kerry hurried from the room, nearly dragging Tony behind her.

“Slow down,” he urged as he caught up with her. “Where are you taking me?”

                Kerry didn’t answer instead continued her breakneck pace until they reached the parking lot and Tony’s car. He looked at her, puzzled.

“Unlock it,” she ordered. He complied without hesitation. “Get in,” she added after the lock audibly disengaged. Again, he followed her command without questioning.

                He smiled when she watched him climb into the driver’s seat then flitted around to the passenger side.

“Where are we going?” he muttered, a knowing rasp in his tone.

“Slide your seat back,” she grinned, ignoring his question, wholly focused on the bulge in his jeans. The seat moved back and she climbed to straddle his lap.

                His hands instinctively skimmed the back of her thighs as she set to work on the button and zipper on his pants.

“Someone could see us,” his voice was laden with yearning. He lifted his hips to allow her to slide his pants just far enough down for his cock to spring free.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” she pulled his bottom lips between her teeth as his hands continued the journey up her legs then abruptly stopped at her bare ass.

“Neither are you,” his fingers drew closer to her center.

                Kerry simply smiled and nibbled her lip, cradling his length, hard and weighty in her hands. He growled and gripped the seat beside him, clinging to his self-control.

“What has gotten into you?” he finally said, his left hand guiding her lips down to his. “Rushing me out here to do god knows what where anyone can see. Wearing that dress with no panties.”

                Their mouths met in a satiny kiss, both momentarily lost in the meshing of tongues and caress of lips. He groaned when she stroked him again and she whimpered when he did that thing with his tongue.

“You were so upset about Olivia and other men,” she breathed, her tongue exploring the shell of his ear. “And now it looks like Fitz is going to get a little Livvie action.” He nodded, swallowing hard against his dry throat.

“We should celebrate with some Tony and Kerry action,” she smirked as she lowered herself onto his rigid shaft.

“Oh God, do that again,” he licked his lips and ran his hands over her breasts, her nipples rigid against his palms through the thin bodice of her dress.

“Yes,” she cooed, leaning into his hands, moving herself faster over him.

                His hands went from soft and gentle to hard and demanding, pulling her cotton covered breast to his mouth. The damp fabric clung to her skin when he moved on to the other breast and she quickened her pace. Never a fan of quickies, the thrill of being seen, the way she was drawn to Tony made her reconsider what she had always seen as less than satisfying encounters. When he was inside her, whether for minutes or hours, it was better than it had ever been with anyone else, entirely sublime and she allowed herself to get lost in the moment.

                He thrust up into her, burying himself fully each time she slid along his shaft. Her eyes were wild, her hair falling across her face, partially obscuring her from his view. He pushed her hair aside and kissed her deeply, the sensation of his rising climax bearing down on him. She reached a hand between them, rubbing circles against her clit. His hand joined hers, determined to bring her to orgasm with him. Their mouths met just as she stilled, her walls quaking around him, and he thrust up into her one final time with a bite to her lip.

“We should get back,” she grinned as she straightened herself in the passenger seat.

“Your lip looks a little puffy,” he whispered wickedly before placing a light kiss where he had bitten her.

“Yeah, you have a little something on your neck,” she replied licking her lips and running her fingers over the deep red marks she’d left with her nails.

I'll Never Get Over You - Olitz One-Shot

“You’re awfully quiet,” Fitz glanced at Olivia who lay barely covered beside him.

“Still trying to convince myself this is real,” she cuddled closer, offering him a small smile.

                The clock next to the bed told him they should have been asleep hours ago but he feared she’d disappear if he dared close his eyes. Laying naked next to Olivia was something he thought he’d only ever do again in his fantasies and now there was no need to rush, they had hours, days. No one had to sneak out in the wee hours of the morning and she was in his house.

“So,” he smirked turning on his side and propping himself up on his elbow, “do you like my bedroom?”

“Well I’ve become well acquainted with the bed,” she kissed his lips, lingering to allow their tongues to leisurely mingle.

“The most important feature of the room to be sure,” he muttered as her mouth retreated from his.

                Olivia’s fingers toyed with the curls he’d let grow at the nape of his neck. He rarely allowed his hair to get so long, instead keeping his unruly curls clipped short. She watched his eyelids sag when she ran her nails along his scalp a little harder and a low groan rumbled in his chest. Knowing all too well the meaning of that sound she reached her mouth to his ear pulling the lobe between her lips.

“Livvie,” he growled.

“I missed you,” she admitted when his now open eyes fixed on hers.

                His fingers traced the slope of her cheekbone, pushing away the stray hair that had fallen there. He tried to count the number of times he’d prayed she would say those words, and only in his wildest dreams did she ever utter them while in his bed. He cleared his throat, admitting, “I missed you too.”

                Olivia had wondered if they’d done irreparable harm, the arguments, her relationships with Edison, Jake and Russell, his alliance with Mellie. She feared they’d never be able to find their way back even if circumstances aligned as they had earlier in the evening.

“I’ll have to remember to give Charlotte some extra time off,” he chuckled, allowing his hand to ghost along her bare arm. She shivered beneath his touch, goosebumps pricking in the wake of his hand. They had spent hours reminding themselves what they’d forgone for so long but his hands on her lit her aflame just as when he had first touched her.

                Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently when he began a trail of open mouth kisses along the column of her neck. It was unlike any other time she could recall when they were together. No one was wondering where they were, no one was expecting them home, no one was going to interrupt their indulgence in one another.

“Charlotte might deserve a raise,” she smiled, tugging harder at his curls.

“If I have her to thank for this,” he agreed, lifting the sheet to survey her bare body beneath, “I’d be more than happy to double her salary.”

“Behave,” she blushed, pulling the sheet down to cover herself.

He pulled her against him, her face mere inches from his on the pillow. She laced the fingers of her left hand with those of his right, savoring the simple connection.  They lay so close, so exposed, nothing but a year of questions separating them. Her chestnut brown eyes searched the depths of his forceful slate gray for a hint of his thoughts. His eyes always smiled when he was close to her, always sparkled when they settled on her but there was a different gleam this time.

They looked at one another, considering what to say, sifting through their thoughts. He watched the strand of hair laying across her forehead wafting in the breeze coming from the balcony. She studied his tongue as it slid over his lips. Their breathing, the rise and fall of their chests, coordinated in an expectant rhythm. She began to speak but thought better of her question. He resisted the urge to ease the tension by pulling her beneath him and urging his mouth against hers.

Olivia glanced over Fitz’s shoulder, a picture of the two of them from his first campaign taunting her from the nightstand. Even then she’d known there would be no one else, no one who could hold her every thought and dream. She would never see such unsullied affection reflected back at her. There was no amount of pain that wasn’t warranted, no measure of struggle too much. Normal and simple were for the faint of the heart, she wanted the soul-shaking, life-altering, remarkable love she knew would only be possible with Fitz.

Fitz sensed Olivia slipping deeper into her thoughts. Rubbing his thumb along hers, he drew her hand to his lips for a chaste kiss, “Livvie…”

She smiled, tears brimming in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he continued.

                She looked puzzled, “What are you sorry about?”

                He broke their eye contact, reeling from the emotions invoked by memories of their past and the last twelve months in particular. He wanted to ask why she’d left with Jake, tell her how hurt he was that she’d left him all alone, swear he’d go to war a million times over to save her, assure her he’d lay down his life for her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t divorce Mellie sooner,” he still didn’t look her in the eye. “I’m sorry I ever let you feel like less than the most important person in my life. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for us. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

                Tears slipped silently down his stubbly cheeks, disappearing in the silent darkness.

“No,” she mouthed, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I got angry. I’m sorry I pushed you away.”

                Her own tears fell freely, mixing with his when she gingerly pressed a healing kiss to his lips.

“I just want you to be happy,” Fitz wept, “I want you to smile. I want to see the strong, brilliant, carefree Livvie I met seven years ago.”

“You make me happy,” she sobbed in return, her thumb wiping the tears from his warm cheeks. “I’m never happier than when I’m with you.”

“I can’t promise you that I’ll never hurt you but I promise to do everything in my power to keep that from happening,” his eyes smoldered with a seriousness she rarely saw. “If anything, the last year has taught me one thing, it’s taught me that I can live without you,” she gasped at his admission and he hurried to continue, “but I don’t want to.”

                Olivia kissed him again, needing a reprieve from both his admission and the emotions it invoked. Though his tears had stopped, hers fell unbidden. She cried for the pain of the past seven years, all of the times she watched Fitz go back to Mellie, all of the times she sent him away, the fear that he’d walk away forever, and the helplessness she felt without his love. After the torment of her childhood Olivia swore she’d never depend on anyone, never place her happiness in another’s hands. All of that changed when she met Fitz, the first eye contact, the first time he smiled at her, when they shared one minute in the hallway and their fingers first tangled on the campaign bus. She recalled the struggle standing outside her hotel room in Georgia, when he’d told her to go into her room, when he’d given her an out. Since that night nothing had been the same but, she realized, she wouldn’t change the decision she made in that hallway for anything.

“I can exist without you,” she hiccupped, taking his face between her hands, “but I’m not truly alive unless I’m with you.”

                The gentle touch of his palm against her lower back was a stark contrast to the demanding pressure of his mouth on hers. Her lips were salty and sweet, a mingling of wine and tears. He kissed her as reassurance, to show her how it felt to be alive, and for all of the words he couldn’t express. 

“Make love to me Fitz,” she whimpered, vulnerable, exposed.

                He gently shifted beneath the sheet until he lay above her. Every movement tender and deliberate, he stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, tracing her lips with a lone digit.

“Say it again,” he choked, his voice heavy with passion.

“Make love to me Mr. President,” she purred, grinning.

                Mustering all of his self-control, Fitz brought the head of his cock to her dripping entrance, coaxing just the tip into her waiting heat. Olivia gripped his biceps as he pushed inch after agonizing inch into her. He paused when he was fully inside her, the snug fit causing his pulse to quicken. He wondered if he’d ever grow accustomed to leisurely lovemaking with Olivia, if he would ever miss their hurried stolen moments. But he thought better of the notion, confident there would be rendezvous in the Oval Office, Camp David, and most assuredly in the motorcade. His pace quickened at the prospect and he drew himself back to the present, focused on the long, slow, gentle pleasure he was determined to offer the woman he loved.

                Olivia felt tears prick her eyes anew, overcome by her feelings and the care with which Fitz worshipped her. His hands, strong yet gentle on her breasts as he moved in and out of her, his lips acquiescing to hers, his entire being at her mercy. She doubted anyone had ever seen this side of Fitz, not the President of the United States, no longer the most powerful man in the world, without defenses, loving and being loved in its purest form.

“Livvie,” her name like a prayer from his lips.

“Yes,” her back arching, head thrown back, when he found the spot that drove her mad.

                Her exposed neck invited his mouth to venture along its contours. Beginning just below her ear he nipped and kissed until he reached the ridge of her clavicle, the hollow of her throat, where he suckled gently. Every kiss, every nip in time with his quickening thrusts. His hands traversed her thigh, gripping tightly, anchoring him to the reality of the perfect love they’d found.

                She shifted her hands from his powerful back to the thigh that pressed against hers, finally finding their preferred place, tugging at the curls at his nape. Each stroke drove her higher, each kiss a promise that he’d tumble over the edge with her, and she rotated her hips to make the most of their connection. Her orgasm began as a flicker in the pit of her stomach, barely an ember, stoked by the force of their appetite for one another.

“Faster,” it was a mere breath but he gladly accommodated her.

                Her breaths quickened with each surge of his hips betraying how close she was to her climax. He concentrated on her breaths and the rosy glow blooming over her impeccable flesh. Plunging deeper, careful not to lose himself in his desire for her, he heard her moans grow louder.

“Don’t stop,” Olivia cried. “Oh God Fitz, don’t ever stop.” She gripped his curls with white knuckles, silken walls quaking around his cock. Seconds later her hold loosened and her nails dragged along the planes of his back luring him towards ecstasy.

                His strokes became shorter, a sharp staccato against her sensitive tissues. With every surge her name dripped from his lips until his orgasm ripped a moan of her name from deep within him.

“I love you,” Olivia whispered against his shoulder.

                Fitz shifted to his side, giving him space to look at her, to really see her face when he responded, “I have dreamed about hearing those words from you for so long.”

“Let me say it again then,” she touched her finger to his lips, “I love you Fitz.”

“I love you too Livvie.”

“I love your arms,” her palm ghosted over his bicep. “I love your lips,” she kissed him softly. “I love your ears,” her tongue ran along the shell of his ear, “and God I hope our kids have your sexy curls.”

                Fitz pulled back, eyes wide, “You want to have babies with me?”

                Olivia giggled, “I thought that was our deal. Two babies, if I recall. We sealed the deal with a kiss.” With that she kissed him again, “and you wouldn’t go back on a deal would you Mr. President?”

“I just…I figured…” he stammered.

“Unless you changed your mind?” she enjoyed putting him on the spot.

“No, God no,” he assured. “There is nothing more wonderful I can imagine than you carrying my child.”

                Her eyes were damp and so were his as silence again fell over them. Their legs intertwined, hands dancing together. They exchanged timid smiles, both still fearful of doing or saying something that would again cause their relationship to crumble.

                Deep in thought, Olivia rose, pulling the sheet around her and padding to the window. The first hues of dawn glowed behind the Jefferson Memorial as she looked out over the South Lawn.

“Should I be concerned that you seem more interested in Mr. Jefferson than you are in me?” Fitz asked as he strode up behind her, wrapping his strong arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

                Olivia laughed, a rush of pleasure washing over her when she felt him rock hard against her back. “Did you know that the architect of the Jefferson Memorial was named Pope?” she asked.

“I did,” he kissed her neck again, enjoying the weight of her as she relaxed back against him.

“He died before construction even started,” she went on. “The final design wasn’t even completely his.”

“Now that I didn’t know,” Fitz smiled, focusing on the former president’s monument in the distance.

                Olivia turned in his arms, “You really should brush up on your history, Mr. President,” she flirted, her hands braced on his chest.

“Suddenly I don’t care a thing about the past,” he looked up towards the high ceiling then back into her eyes. “I only want to think about the future.”

“Anything in particular about the future?” her voice was sultry, lust-laden.

“Hmm…” he feigned deep thought as she pulled him back in the direction of the mussed bed.

“While you’re thinking let me give you a glimpse of your future,” a slight nudge and his back was on the mattress, Olivia settling above him.

“And a bright future it is,” he smiled as his cock disappeared into her heat anew.

Interested in your feedback for this one. A little departure from my norm. XO

What Do We Do Now? - Olitz one shot

“Nice view.” The two words were like a wash of fresh air. He turned slowly in the direction of her voice, fearful he had imagined the sound. His heart lurched when he took her in, standing mere feet away after so much time. A thousand thoughts clogged in his mind and his face betrayed the struggle he felt at seeing her standing on the balcony, on his balcony, just as he’d resigned himself to being alone.

“Hi,” she murmured, her thumb running along the rim of the wineglass she held.

“HI,” he finally found his voice, still in disbelief.  His voice waivered when he continued, “You’re here.”

The corners of her mouth drew up almost imperceptibly and she started slowly in his direction. Her voice took on a seductive tone, “I’m here. Charlotte is very helpful…and informative.”

She was close enough to touch and all of his feelings for her set his heart at a steady thud. He tempered his urge to reach for her, still unsure if this was another vivid dream, equally hesitant that this time would be no different than all of the others they had found their way back to one another.

“What happens now?” Fitz asked diffidently.

“Whatever we want,” she flirted in return, her pulse racing at the prospect.

                Olivia’s breath caught when Fitz took a step towards her, taking the glass from her hands and sitting it on a nearby table. Then he was back in her personal space, his scent engulfing her, his heat warming her from head to toe.

                Both were tentative as they basked in the proximity of the other. Fitz bent towards her and Olivia’s hands found the sides of his dress shirt, reaching her lips to touch his. It started sweet, tender, and timid, each reacquainting themselves with the other.

                Her plump lips tasted like the sweetest wine as he sampled every inch, grazing his teeth over her top lip before tantalizing her tongue with his own. Olivia’s nails ran along the nape of his neck drawing a satisfied groan from Fitz. His palm found the curve of her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek, both relishing the contact.

                Olivia pushed closer to Fitz, a familiar prominence pressing against her belly. She pulled back long enough to grin at the man she never thought she’d kiss again before knotting her fingers in his hair anew and rejoining their mouths.

                Fitz gripped her jaw, feeling himself grow harder with every mew of pleasure that escaped her and every movement of her body against his. He wanted her, not because he had just kicked Mellie out of his house but because it had been so long since he’d held her, kissed her, so long since he’d felt alive.

                Olivia did her best to seduce him, her tongue playing against his, hands tugging at his curls, her thigh sliding up the inside of his. He had to know she wanted him, needed him, and she didn’t want to wait. She knew they needed to talk, all of the things there were to hash out but this wouldn’t be the night. She needed the touch she’d missed, the way his mouth and hands took her to heights she’d never reached with anyone else.

                He heard her whimpers grow more impatient, knowing he now had the upper hand. Her tongue grew rougher, her teeth nipping his lip. She reached to stroke his length through his pants and he knew he needed to get her inside or they’d end up giving all of DC a show.

                Olivia gasped when his hand found her ass, lifting her into his arms, his fingers fondling her through the thin fabric of her slacks. She wrapped her left leg around his hip. Fitz growled when she slid herself along his length, blindly maneuvering them through the door and in the direction of the bed.

“I missed you,” she gasped as his fingers continued to arouse her.

                They reached the bed and he lay her less than gingerly against the duvet. She kicked off her shoes, groping for the buckle of his belt. Fitz released the button on her pants, pulling them along with her panties down her soft legs. He took a moment to look at her, really look at her, lips somewhat swollen, hair askew, breath quickened. She was everything he’d ever dreamed and he kicked himself for not throwing Mellie out sooner.

                Olivia lay on her back, breathless, the President of the United States standing in front of her in a shirt, tie, and boxers. She watched his cock twitch at attention beneath the strained cotton of his underwear and unconsciously licked her lips.

                Fitz moved to pull down the comforter, returning to lift Olivia and lay her against the cool Egyptian cotton sheets before climbing over her.

“I missed you too,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and again finding her lips with his.

                Memories flooded her mind, the day they first met, the instant attraction they’d both felt standing in the hallway when he’d tried to fire her, when he’d asked her to say his name, and the night they gave in to temptation in a Georgia hotel room.  She thought of the day he’d given her the ring she wore, the night they’d made love in the oval office, and the electrical closet after Ella’s baptism.

                Fitz watched a flush rise to her cheeks as he stared into eyes the amber hue of fine cognac. He was consumed with her, the silky feel of her hair through his fingers, the urgency of her mouth against his, her skin hot under his touch. He wanted the night to last forever.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he smiled against her lips.

“I know what I want,” Olivia responded in a hush against his reddened ear, pushing his boxers as far down his thighs as she could manage.

                Fitz kissed her hard, his self-control fading. Freeing himself totally of his boxers he returned his attention to a half-clothed Olivia. He knelt between her knees, wetting his lips as he loosened his tie.

                Her hands shifted to capture his, stopping him. “Leave it on,” she purred, pulling her lip between her teeth. She let her hands glide down the front of his shirt before leisurely stroking his length. Before she could say another word his arm was looped behind her knee and his thickness was filling her. She kissed him hard, her moans lost in his mouth.

                They had never made love in the residence, a hard and fast rule she had outlined when they resumed their affair.  As he thrust deeper and deeper she sunk her teeth into his shoulder as a means of tempering her cries, unsure if her moans of his name would bring secret service agents running. She lifted her hips to meet his strokes. In all the time they had been apart, Jake, Russell, nothing could compare to the way that Fitz made love to her.

                He couldn’t keep the smirk from his lips when her teeth sunk into his flesh. She liked to bite, evidenced by the many times he had hidden his neck and chest from his soon to be ex-wife.  She bit him when he hit a certain spot, when he thrust deep into her, and when she worried about being too loud.

“You feel amazing Livvie,” he panted, redoubling his efforts.

“Don’t stop,” she quietly replied.

                Her words drove him closer to his peak and he struggled to maintain his composure, concerned that he would finish before her. He knew all of her sounds, knew that she always grew louder and called his name before she climaxed. He worried that he couldn’t please her like he used to, that he was no longer enough for her. Then it clicked, the biting, the forced whispers. He flashed his lopsided grin when he said, “Livvie, you can be as loud as you want.”

                She giggled, sighing and lifting her smiling lips to his. He shifted her leg slightly, the change of angle pulling him deeper into her wetness causing her to arch her back, exposing her neck to his red hot mouth.

“Oh God Fitz,” she moaned.

“I like that, say my name again Livvie,” he grunted, out of breath with his increasing pace.

“Fitz,” she repeated a bit louder.

                He slammed deeper into her, each thrust dragging his name from her lips. Louder and louder she called his name, higher and higher he drove her ecstasy until the sting of her climax lit every nerve ending ablaze. Her nails dug into his shoulders and her eyes came to gaze contentedly into his. They held one another’s gaze, unwavering, each hurtling closer to the point of no return. Fitz saw a tear slide down her cheek, moving his right hand to rest on her neck and jaw, maintaining their connection.

                Olivia was overcome by her emotions, any apprehension she felt melted away in the flame of their desire. Another slight shift in Fitz’s position brought the blazes of her orgasm to engulf her. Her heart stopped momentarily, her breath caught, and her mouth went immediately dry then his name tore from her lips, “Fitz!” Her warm wet channel clenched around him and she released a long held breath.

                He stroked through her climax, a pleasurable pain gripping him. The sound of her screaming his name was like a sweet melody to his ears. His pace became uneven and his breathing ragged until he knew he couldn’t hold out any longer. He shifted to pull out but her leg caught the back of his thigh, trapping him against her. He slowed his tempo, a confused look on his face.

“I want this,” she murmured.

                Fitz’s heart raced at the prospect, the implications of what was about to happen. He loved her and had for a long time but this was more than just a big step, it could be life altering. Looking into her eyes he saw nothing but assurances. His grip on her jaw tightened and he drove faster into her until his vision clouded and his entire body tensed.

“Olivia,” he boomed before one last stroke brought his seed spilling into her.

                Out of breath yet barely sated Olivia stroked Fitz’s cheek, kissing him deeply, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he returned, collapsing to the mattress beside her.

                She further loosened his tie, pulling it from beneath his collar before turning her attention to the buttons of his shirt and lifting her own sweater off over her head. It was obvious he’d been working out. His chest was more defined and his abs more taut.

                Fitz ran a finger along her cleavage just above her bra. Her skin was sinfully soft, begging to be touched and kissed, worshipped for hours. He planned to do just that. Unhooking the clasp on her bra, he watched her ample breasts spill free. She stroked his cheek, all of the emotions pent up for far too long trickling down her cheeks.

                Neither spoke, no words worthy of the moment they shared. He outlined her features with a gentle touch as her dainty hand mapped her favorite parts of him. Long minutes passed filled only with brief kisses and relaxed breaths. She wanted to ask him what had been the final straw with Mellie and he wanted to know if she’d ended things for good with Jake, but neither wanted to taint the perfection.

“You can shower,” he offered the most benign statement that came to mind.

                A wicked smirk met Olivia’s lips and she leaned to kiss his lips, “I was hoping we weren’t finished getting dirty.”

                Fitz’s breath caught as she meandered kisses along his chest and abdomen before disappearing beneath the sheet. He tensed when her nails danced over his balls and her tongue flicked the head of his cock. When he rushed to her apartment he had hoped to talk, to hash out some of the things that had kept them apart. He wanted to tell her that he was divorcing Mellie and he was trying to be the man she voted for. Never did his wildest dreams include Olivia Pope and her superpowers.

“Livvie,” he groaned watching her dark curls drag against his thighs. He reached for her leg, pulling her close enough that he could slide a single long, thick digit into her pulsing heat.

                She moaned against his cock, causing his right hand to tightly grip the sheet and his left to drive faster into her. He never lasted long at the mercy of her perfect mouth. He slid a finger against her clit in time with his thrusts and her mouth grew hotter and wetter around him. Her juices coating his fingers and hand caused him to lick his lips, he craved a taste.

“Fitz,” she pleaded, tearing her mouth away from his unyielding thickness.

“You’re so wet Livvie,” his voice was a husky rasp that only drove her further into torment. He pulled her body ever closer, the scent of her nectar making his mouth water. “Ride my face.”

                The request, the tone of his voice, the sensation of his fingers pleasuring her, threw off her rhythm as she allowed him to pull her to straddle his head. Her legs burned and the stir of her orgasm raced towards its explosion. His tongue lashed at her clit, juices coating his face while she took his entire impressive length deep to the back of her throat. He lifted his hips to meet her mouth while he held her slit captive to the assault of his tongue. She tasted so sweet, like a rare honey that conjured memories of wonderful days past. He wanted to taste her for the rest of his life.

                Olivia neared her climax, redoubling her efforts to bring Fitz over the edge with her. She traced every ridge with her tongue, flicking the tip and circling the head before again engulfing him. Her cheeks hollowed as her orgasm mounted and she ground harder against his mouth, demanding the added friction.

                Fitz felt her thrust against his mouth staving off his own orgasm until she moaned around his cock and her walls shuddered against his tongue. Unable to stem the rising tide he thrust against her mouth then the welcome release of his hot seed washing over her tongue. She collapsed, totally spent, beside him, Fitz peppering kisses along her silky calf.

“Come up here,” he breathed and she quickly obliged, tucking herself against him.

“You taste delicious,” she murmured with a kiss.

“Mmm…” he replied, resting against the pillow, his eyes lulling closed. “Kiss me again.”

                Olivia giggled, more than happy to indulge him. She kissed along his jaw, tasting herself on his salty skin. She thought about suggesting they lay like this forever, never face the public, the inevitable scrutiny. This was perfection, the place they always got it right. She kissed him one last time then rolled to her back, staring at the ceiling.

                Fitz noticed her sudden silence and turned to look at her, “Whatcha thinkin’ Beautiful?”

“Just how quickly things can change,” she whispered, her eyes still trained on the ceiling. “Just last night I was laying alone in my bed and now…” her voice trailed off.

“Now you’re here...with me,” he ran his hand over her flat stomach, bringing it to rest at the arch of her hip.

                Finally she looked over at him, nibbling her lip, “I was thinking I could spend the night?”

                He could tell she was anxious, afraid the question was out of bounds considering where their relationship had been just the day before. He struggled to keep the emotion from his voice when he grinned and replied, “I was thinking you could spend forever.”

I appreciate any feedback you'd like to share!!  Thanks for reading!!!

Bound by Love - Olitz One-Shot

            The ring of the phone startled her, drawing her concentration from the stack of papers before her. She knew that ringtone, hearing it repeat as she considered whether to answer.

“Hello Cyrus,” she knew he would only continue to call if she didn’t answer the first time.

“Liv,” the man sounded out of breath, exasperated.

“Cy, I’m busy. What is it?” her own irritation boiled to the surface.

“Meet me at our spot. Thirty minutes,” he disregarded the tone of her voice.

            Before she could respond the line went dead and a loud sigh replaced her planned rejoinder. She glanced back at the document she had been reading, knowing full well that she wouldn’t comprehend another word until she met with Cyrus.

XXX

            Olivia perused her email while she waited on a bench. She remembered the first time she and Cyrus met there, just after she resigned from the Grant administration, and the last time, just a month prior when President Grant was narrowing down his choices to replace Andrew Nichols as Vice President. The benches, the people, the trees, they all held the last 5 years enshrouded in their branches and their cracks and the whoosh of their coats. She contemplated the time, where it had gone and how it had changed them. They had started out as a team and now they were adversaries, barely acquaintances in the political climate of D.C.

“I hope you still take yours with cream and sugar,” Cyrus’ voice wrenched her from her memories.

“I do,” she couldn’t help smiling at the man who would just as soon decimate her career as help her.

            She didn’t speak, sipping her coffee, looking out at passersby as they hurried along. He had called this meeting, she had no idea why, and she wouldn’t tip her hand or venture a guess.

“He knows having the wedding at the White House was your idea,” Cyrus didn’t look at her, keeping his gaze set upon some far off object.

“Did he say no?” Olivia finally looked in his direction. She would always have a soft spot for Cyrus. He was her mentor in many ways, a former colleague who was bonded to her through deceit and election fraud, and sometimes a friend. She saw the joy when he and James brought Ella home then the epic depths of pain when James was taken from them by Jake Ballard’s bullet. They were both survivors, both burying their pain in work, both sacrificing so much of themselves for what her father so nobly called “The Republic”

“He isn’t happy,” Cyrus hedged.  

“So you want me to go see him?” Olivia filled in the blanks.

            The tension in Cyrus’ shoulders visibly dissolved before he breathed, “It might help.” He didn’t quite meet her eyes, well aware of exactly what he was asking of her.

XXX

            Olivia smoothed the imaginary wrinkles from her skirt, fidgeting with the clip on the White House pass that hung from her purse, sliding her heel in and out of her favorite Louboutin. She stood outside the door to the Oval Office trying to think of any reason not to turn the knob and enter. Her palms were moist and her breaths weren’t coming easily. She needed a drink, not the coffee she had finished on the way in, but her wine or his scotch.

“You can go right in Ms. Pope,” Lauren encouraged from behind her desk. She was seeing less of Olivia these days and had never known her to be anything but completely poised. Something about her appearance was off and her hands trembled almost imperceptibly.

            Lauren’s voice gave Olivia the final push that she needed to open the thick oak door and face the man she had been actively avoiding for weeks. Her heels on the wood floor drew his attention away from the security briefing before him and brought his eyes to rest on her tense features and her bare left forefinger.

“Olivia,” it was a mix of a stunned question and a strained statement. She looked every bit as gorgeous as the last time he’d laid eyes upon her and he fought the urge to stand and rush across the room to take her in his arms. That wasn’t the relationship she wanted anymore and he would respect that.

“Cyrus asked me to come,” she hesitantly stepped towards the center of the room, afraid that if she drew too close to him the magnetism between them would be too great for either to resist. She couldn’t control the rapid beating of her heart or the warmth that coiled in her belly and crept to her toes.

“Did he?” he tried to sound aloof but the ice in his tone more closely resembled jealousy or hurt. He shifted in his chair, momentarily allowing his eyes to leave her face and take a quick inventory of the rest of her form. Her heels easily added several inches to her height, the hem of her skirt cut across her thigh at just the right place, and her manicure was meticulously done but her hand looked so strange without the ring. He let out a protracted sigh, perplexed by how they’d gone from fervent encounters tucked away in the most private locations to barely speaking.

            Olivia drew in a deep breath, holding her head up and concentrating on the task at hand, “I appreciate you allowing Cyrus and Michael to have the wedding here.” Her voice was soft, ingratiating, as she gauged his reaction.

“I don’t recall anyone asking,” Fitz bit back, not able to meet her eyes again, afraid that if he did his ire would fizzle. “You went behind my back….again. You and Cyrus and Mellie.”

            She stepped to the front of the desk, “I’m sorry,” she murmured, fighting the sting of her tears that threatened to fall, “I didn’t see another way…” She trailed off, knowing just as well as he did that she wasn’t being honest.

“Did you just come here to offer an apology or did you need something else?” his tone was still sharp and it cut to the place only he could reach. His jaw was tense and the warmth she was used to seeing in his eyes was gone. The irreparable harm of removing the ring permeated the room. The ring she had worn through argument after argument, when they were madly in love shuttered away from the world, and when they pushed each other to the brink. She had pushed and pushed and he’d never stopped being there, never allowed their bond to break. Seeing his eyes the night she threw the ring at him and now, standing before him, it registered that she had found his limit.

“Cyrus said you knew and that you knew that it was my idea so I thought—“

“You thought you’d come here and charm me. That you’d apologize and I’d give in,” every feeling he’d been holding in check spewed forth. “You thought you’d smile and appeal to my vulnerabilities and all would be well.”

“No,” she gasped, shocked at his tone and his callous words. “I thought we should talk—“

“We have nothing left to talk about,” Fitz stood, rounding his desk, pouring a tumbler full of scotch and taking a long swallow. As he raised the glass to his lips she watched in rapt attention, not sure how to respond. His fingers tensed around the glass, pale from the force of his grip. When he set the glass down and began to fill it anew her mouth went abruptly dry. She stared at his left hand, those long, thick fingers that knew her so intimately, focusing on the slight indent where his gold wedding band used to rest.

            She thought back to the last time she had seen him, almost positive that his ring was on his finger that day. Surely Cyrus would have mentioned if Fitz and Mellie were divorcing, and Fitz would have called. She would have been his first call, it would be one of his late night calls from the Oval, his voice would be that low gravely baritone she loved so much. He’d call her Livvie and ask her to meet him in one of their secret places. Maybe they would go to Vermont to celebrate or Camp David. They would spend hours in bed, only leaving for sustenance and to shower off the remnants of their lovemaking. He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands or his mouth to himself in the shower and she would return the favor.

            Fitz watched a flush bloom across Olivia’s cheeks and couldn’t help noticing the color spread over the cleavage that peeked from her blouse. She looked lost in thought as a small grin touched her lips and her fingers came to rest there. He fought the urge to touch her, well aware that nothing good could come of it. They couldn’t fall back into old routines, she wasn’t wearing the ring and he needed to devote his attentions to leading the country. He was tired of chasing her and he knew she wasn’t interested in him pursuing her any longer. They couldn’t keep trying to live in the past. As difficult as it would be they would have to find their new happiness.

“If you could look this over and sign it….” Her voice was a mere whisper as she laid a document on his desk and gripped her purse before silently walking to the door. She chanced a glance back in his direction but he had turned to look out the window. She walked from the room, finally allowing a tear to fall when the door closed behind her.

XXX

            The trip to her apartment was a blur of cherry blossoms and sunshine. The warm weather brought people out from their winter habitats and onto the street to lunch, shop, and stroll. She noticed happy couples laughing over shared desserts and walking hand in hand through the park. She couldn’t help but look at her bare finger with regret. The future she had imagined with Fitz wasn’t to be and the tears fell afresh.

            Tear-streaked and somewhat rumpled, she entered her apartment and went straight for the couch. She picked up the framed photo of her with Fitz during his first campaign and cried harder. She wiped tears from her eyes and fought the urge to call him, acutely aware that was no longer an option. Her finger traced the contour of his face in the photo and she recalled the hours she spent memorizing his features. She thought of his taut abs, his muscular arms, his strong jaw, soft lips, and talented fingers. Flashes of his bare finger flickered before her and she wondered again why he hadn’t mentioned a separation from Mellie.

            There was a knock on her door and she swiped at the remnants of her tears before opening the door. A messenger handed her a thin manila envelope with barely a word before leaving. She watched him climb into the elevator then closed the door.

            Turning the envelope over she recognized Fitz’s handwriting and her pulse quickened. She walked back to the couch and set the envelope on the coffee table. Before she could face whatever the envelope held she needed some liquid courage. Tucked behind the open bottles of various liquors she found what she was looking for. She kept the Balblair Highland single malt scotch on hand for when Fitz came to her apartment. The thin layer of dust reminded her of just how long it had been since he had visited. She filled a glass and allowed the burn of the scotch distract from the ache in her chest. Carrying the glass with her she went in search of the ring Fitz had gifted her, needing the tether to him before she opened the envelope.

            Two glasses of scotch later she tentatively tore the seal on the envelope and removed its contents. She took a deep breath and focused on the document, the same one she had left with Fitz for his signature. Scanning the page she found the signature line blank, there would be no garden wedding. Her anger flared as she picked up her phone to call him, then reconsidered. She pulled on her coat, collected her purse and the envelope, and rushed out the door.

XXX

            Abby and Cyrus argued back and forth about how to handle Cyrus’ impending nuptials with the press. Abby pressed for a statement from Fitz while Cyrus, always the calculating Chief of Staff, insisted the White House maintain a neutral position. Fitz sat behind his desk watching the exchange but barely registering the words. He was preoccupied with thoughts of Olivia. He knew that it was childish not to sign the documents needed to host Cyrus’ wedding. It had nothing to do with Cyrus or Michael and everything to do with Olivia. She had gone behind his back and plotted with Mellie and he was angry.

“Sir?”

“Sorry Cy, what is it?” Fitz forced himself to focus on his Chief of Staff.

“I think we need to maintain the party line,” Cy replied. “You ran on a platform and we need to stick to that. We need your satisfaction numbers high to get our economic legislation passed.”

“You know I support your marriage to Michael—“ Fitz began.

“So long as you don’t get married here,” Olivia came rushing through the door.

            The room fell silent, surprise registered on Fitz’s features as Cyrus and Abby looked between the two estranged lovers.

“I think that’s our clue to leave, Red,” Cyrus murmured, standing and gesturing towards the door. Abby followed him from the room.

            As soon as the door latched the animosity between them exploded. Fitz took in her furious appearance preparing to defend himself.

“You can’t just come bursting into my office,” he beat her to the offensive. “You don’t work for this administration anymore.”

“How could you?” her voice was high, nearly a screech.

“You can’t just try to manipulate me,” he returned.

“I wasn’t—“

“You conspired with Mellie,” he maintained, stepping from behind the desk.

“He’s your best friend,” she softened a bit when discussing Cyrus. “How could you not sign? How could you not agree to let him get married here?”

            She held the envelope out to him and he took another step towards her to take it. When he grasped it he let his fingers brush over hers, a jolt rushing through him when he felt the band beneath his hand.

“You’re not the man I thought you were,” she was in his personal space, finger wagging, and all he could focus on was his ring on her finger.

            A mix of relief and desire washed over him and suddenly it didn’t matter that she was yelling, all that mattered was that she was there.

“He deserves to have a beautiful wedding and a wedding in the White House garden—“

“No,” his tone was softer than she’d heard it in some time, an edge of gravel to his voice.

            She swallowed hard, the flare of her anger ebbing a bit. Her skin prickled where he’d touched her. “I don’t understand,” she managed. “Why don’t you want Cyrus to get married here?”

            Fitz took another step toward her, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from him and smell the Neroli Portofino he wore. “You don’t remember do you?”

            She looked confused as she shook her head in the negative. Her senses were heightened but her mind seemed to be moving at a glacial pace. She had no idea what it was she was supposed to remember.

            His hands rose to her cheeks and he bent his head to touch his lips to hers. “I told you the night we made love on my desk,” he prompted.

            Her expression was still one of confusion. She was distracted by the kiss, the memory of that night, and his mere proximity.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” his hands slid down her sides to rest on her hips. He kissed her again, harder, deeper. The ring and the memory of the passion they had shared on his desk were overwhelming.

            She reached for the buttons on his shirt as he shrugged out of his jacket then turned to move them in the direction of the desk.

“Fitz, we can’t,” she protested. “The cameras…..and we should talk.”

            He pulled back when the back of her thighs made contact with the edge of the desk, “I’m finished talking.”

“What about the wedding?” she asked as she made quick work of the button on his pants.

            He lifted her onto the desk, watching her skirt ride up her thighs, “I told you all those years ago.” His hands slid up her thighs and hooked around her panties. “The only wedding we’re having at the White House is ours.”

            A collide of emotions washed over her and any thought of propriety fell away with the descent of his hands removing her thong. She fumbled with his zipper, finally freeing him from the confines of his boxer briefs before his fingers found her wetness. She moaned into his mouth when he pressed into her, his girth causing her breath to catch and her nails to dig in to his scalp.

            Their union wasn’t about romance and exploration, it was about months of being separated, pent up sexual tension and pure desire. Her walls firmly gripped him and each thrust of his cock brought a thrust of his tongue. She had forgotten the intoxication of kissing him and had forced the memory of their intimate encounters to the periphery of her recollection. Their time apart had been lengthy but they came together like two lovers who could never forget. As her body molded to his and he pumped harder and faster into her they acknowledged that they were meant to be. His left hand took purchase on her neck, the lack of metal against her skin only spurring her desire for him.

“Oh I missed you Livvie,” his fingers gripped her jaw and his breath came in pants as he thrust into her. The hunger between them felt like the first time, wanting to touch and taste and savor every inch of one another.

            Their eyes locked, his rhythm thrown for a moment, a silent exchange before he turned her around and bent her over the desk. Every thrust came faster, each drawing his name from her reddened lips until she was nearly screaming.

“Baby, you’re so fucking tight,” he breathed against her ear, her response a mere whimper of his name.

            Olivia felt his tempo falter and knew his climax was close. Each collision between their bodies pressed her closer to her own finish. She concentrated on her looming orgasm, relishing its swell, knowing that he was the only man who could take her to those heights.

            His palm rested on her lower belly, tilting her hips up into him. The only sound in the room was their mingled moans and her name whispered with each thrust. Fitz felt the crest of his orgasm overtake him and quickly slid his fingers to her clit, triggering her orgasm.

“Fitz…..fuck…..” she called loudly.

“Shh….” He laughed against the back of her dainty shoulder as they lay against the desktop.

            They buttoned and zippered and tucked and straightened, both grinning. He thought of the Secret Service agent who would get more than he bargained for when he reviewed the recordings from the Oval Office cameras that evening. She considered what it meant that he had just made love to her on the desk in the Oval Office and how this time things would be different. When they had both collected themselves she moved into his arms again, lifting up onto her tiptoes to kiss him.

“You’re not wearing your ring,” she whispered against his lips.

“You’re wearing yours,” he replied as he again deepened their kiss.