Author's Note: No matter what happens on the television, I'ma keep doing me and me will always write, upbuild, and adore Olitz. It is what it is. Here's another brand new idea and more writing will be to you from me soon. Enjoy!
(CMW2/Trumpetnista: Draftbook Drabble #38- (Second Term AU (unrelated to #22, or #28, Liv the Reporter (ala Lily)/Fitz the POTUS, Mellitz Zombie divorce immediate aftermath, Fitz, Olivia, Cyrus, Abby, Jake, one sided Olake, Olitz, NSFW)
Words from the Gladiator in a Hoodie: I need to write something nice and Olitzy because my heart hurts! The show's back and I'm sure that at least 5 more of the remaining 5B episodes will be eh or absolute bullshit. Nothing fuels my Muses better than bullshit, except for good shit but we all know that anything really good won't happen until the last 5 minutes of the season, only to be undone just in time for winter next year in SCANDAL Season 6, which has just been green lit by the Network. I'm not bitter, you're bitter! Okay, I'm completely bitter and petty but that's okay.2016 is the Year of Pettiness and I'm HERE FOR IT. I will participate fully with relish.
So, canon Fitz rightfully is moving forward with his life after #OlitzAtLast turned into a Rhimesian disaster. I see it and I'm okay with it. There's still tangible hope for an Olitz endgame or one of them will get killed off and we'll be freed from purgatory because the show will get cancelled. Either ending is acceptable, now.
What I don't like or trust about Fitz's new Bae/Fling (other than the fact that it's come to this. THANK YOU, Shonda and by thank you, I mean FUCK YOU…) is that girlie's a reporter!The only reporter that was truly worth a shit in the SCANDAL-verse was James Novak and look what happened to him! Anyway, I don't trust Little Miss Lily as far as I can throw her but her arrival gave me a good idea for this D.D. and I hope you guys dig it.
More for the WIPs (including II Corinthians) and more D.D.s will be up soon. At least we still have fanfic, y'all. It's better than nothing! Enjoy the latest!Mad Love, Jam, and Power Drills, ~*Trumpetnista*~
Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"
"Ms. Pope, this is Louisa from Capital City Dental calling to remind you of your check up and cleaning appointment on the 23rd at 10:30…"
"Hey, Olivia uh…it's Jake, Captain Jake Ballard from the Pentagon. I got your number from one of my coworkers. I really enjoyed working with you and I was wondering if we could get together for dinner or a drink before your next assignment…"
"Olivia, this is your father…"
"Hey, Liv-Liv, it's Gingersnap. I'm so glad that you that you landed the Interview with Fitz! The other option was Lily Forrester and she's good but she's also just…no. Anyway, I won't be able to meet you at the Front Gates because of the Press Corp Briefing but we'll definitely have lunch and hang out in the Rose Garden before you leave. This is so cool! We haven't gotten to work together in forever, especially since you barely stay in the country for more than a month at a time. You're everywhere! Tokyo, Dubai, Cairo, Rio…main idea: good luck, best friend and don't let the bastard get you down and by bastard, I mean the Grumpy Gay Dragon…"
"Okay, so I'm going to come back tomorrow and you're going to give me a real interview."
"Excuse me?"
"You're excused. I hate having my time wasted. I came here to get an interview with the man who had the resolve to run a clean Presidential campaign and win. I came here to get an interview with the man who uncovered not one but two plots to start wars overseas solely for the sake of blood money. I came here to get an interview with the man who not only survived a very public assassination attempt on his birthday but was back on the job within 24 hours of waking up from a 10 day coma that he wasn't supposed to come out of. I came here to get an interview with the man who boldly stood up against racially motivated police brutality in this country and is pushing the Brandon Bill through an obstinate Congress. I came here to get an interview from the man who not only had the guts to become the first President to divorce his unfaithful wife in office but also had the grace to support her through the Media backlash, endorse her Junior Senator campaign and support her Planned Parenthood filibuster on Christmas Eve. I…I came here to get an interview, a real interview from you and you have given me nothing but a 2 dollar tour of this place, a nice smile, and canned answers. Your answers are faker than Kim Kardashian-West's internet breaking baby oiled behind and as shallow as a kiddie pool. Your answers are unacceptable and I am done for the day. If I wanted to be ankle deep in bullshit, I would've become a farmer or a politician!"
"Pope, you are completely out of line!"
"Freedom of speech means just that and if you don't like what I've got to say, then you are more than welcome to try to physically remove me from the premises, Cyrus Beene. Go ahead, I dare you…yeah, that's what I thought. Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, you may be the current Leader of the Free World but I will walk away from this assignment entirely before I tolerate anymore nonsense from you. Now, we have another three days to get this Interview right. I am doing my part. I suggest you take the rest of this day and tonight to prepare to be honest with me starting tomorrow, if you still know how. If you can't do it, then I sincerely thank you for this opportunity to meet you and I wish you the best of luck with the remainder of your Presidency. Good day to you, sir. I will show myself out."
Her forehead made contact with the countertop with a loud and very painful bang.
She didn't mind the pain. It would take her mind off of the fact that she was a complete…
"Idiot! I'm. An. Idiot!"
"No. You're. Not!"
"I am a complete idiot and I am never going to work in this town or anywhere else again. I'm going to be blacklisted forever. I won't even be able to cover basic local stories, much less high profile interviews or field work abroad. Why did I do it, Abby? Why did I have to say what I did so loudly, so bluntly, and so…he looked hurt, Gingersnap. Beene was pissed off and ready to rip my head off to wipe his ass with but the President looked so hurt. I felt like I kicked a blind and soaking wet puppy. I just…I'm the idiot to end all of them. I scored the Holy Grail of Interviews and I blew it sky high!"
"No, you didn't and it's not like you were wrong. His answers were diplomatic canned bullshit, bullshit that Cyrus strongly encouraged him to go with for the sake of his Party optics. Apparently, he's been and these are his exact words: 'too honest'."
"Seriously?"
"Oh, yeah and trust me, Fitz had no qualms about tearing him a new one about it. He's not mad at you, Liv-Liv. I promise you he's not! He's mad at Cyrus and mad at himself for listening to the old bastard. You're not going to be blacklisted and you haven't blown the Interview at all. In fact, Fitz said that if anybody interfered with you coming back to finish the job in any way, then he would take their actions as their resignation."
"Really?"
"Swear to God."
"That's nice to hear. I'm still going to apologize to him, though. I was a bitch."
"Being a bitch isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes, it's quite necessary and people just have to get over it. Olivia, you were completely honest with him without being condescending. You went off on him because you knew that he wasn't giving you his best, not because you want to control him. Yeah, he looked hurt at first but by the time you made your triumphant exit, he was definitely impressed and I know you turned him all the way on. He kept a folder on his lap for a while and he was totally watching you leave. Fitz is an ass man and you've got plenty of ass…"
"I do, don't I? And it's all mine, too! There is no silicone junk in my trunk!"
A beat of silence and then both women nearly collapsed with tipsy giggles. With a sigh, 36 year old BNC Correspondent Olivia Pope raised her head from her kitchen counter, rubbing away the lingering throb. Carefully, she stacked three slices of pineapple, chicken, and spinach pizza on top of each other before applying a generous amount of Tabasco to them. She had drunk half of a bottle of red wine by herself earlier and the scotch Abby had brought with her was kicking in. It was best to eat, now. She would need something other than lightly buttered popcorn in her system to soak up all of the booze and to inevitably vomit tomorrow. 37 year old White House Press Secretary Abby Whelan joined her at the counter and took the largest slices of supreme pizza, choosing red pepper flakes and parmesan as her add-ons.
"Leo's going to be back in town on Sunday. He's staying for a week before going to Houston."
"Are you going to see him?"
"I don't know if I should do it. I want to and he wants to see me but the last time we were together, it didn't go very well. The sex was awesome as always but we ended up fighting about our jobs, my job. He supports my career but…the White House becomes your life, Liv. It consumes everything and…Fitz is a really great boss but…I want to make it work with Leo. I do…it's just so…can we change the subject? How's your love life going? Is that Jake Ballard guy from the Pentagon still after you?"
"Unfortunately, yes. I don't…something just isn't right with him. I don't know what it is about him but he makes my Gut twist like crazy. I don't like how he makes me feel."
"I could talk to him for you. Tell him to back off…"
"Yeah, and then I'd end up having to cover a story about you getting chucked in the hoosegow for shoving his uniform hat down his throat. He's persistent yet harmless and if he does decide to get hostile, I don't keep a brick in my purse for nothing."
"Why the fuck do you keep a brick in your purse?!"
"The same reason why I carry body glitter, mace, and a change of socks: shit gets real."
/
"It's not too late to call in someone else. Kimberly Mitchell just got back from Oregon and Noah Baker would drop everything to come here…"
"It's Olivia Pope for the Interview or no one."
"Sir…"
"Cyrus, we were done discussing this yesterday and we really need to have a talk about personal boundaries because this? This is ridiculous. You can't just barge into my bedroom!"
"I understand that. Sir, Pope was disrespectful and completely…"
"…correct and really? You're angry about her disrespecting me? Why? You do it all the time! You're doing it right now!"
"Mr. President, I…"
"The only reason that you still have a job after all the horrible things you've done that I know about is because you exposed Mellie's affairs and I know that if I ever got rid of you, you'd find a way to burn me to a crisp because you're that petty. It's less trouble to keep you around until you can officially join Governor Vargas' campaign like you've been planning to since the Filibuster."
"Fitz, I have no idea what you're…"
"Save it. I'm not stupid and as long as you don't do anything else shady or outright illegal for the rest of your time with this Administration, I don't really care about what you do next with your life. I will do a proper Interview with Olivia Pope like I should have from the beginning and you'll keep your opinions about it and her to yourself. Am I clear?"
"Crystal, sir."
"Good. Please leave."
After the main Residence doors slammed behind his Chief of Staff, 53 year old Fitzgerald 'Fitz' Grant III removed the towel draped over his neck and tossed it the nearby sofa. The warmth of the fireplace felt good against the skin of his bare torso and he adjusted his watch, noting that the Press Corp would be starting to arrive, including his Interviewer. Fortunately, he had put his black suit pants on in the bathroom or Cyrus would've gotten an eyeful. Fitz had no shame about his body. He was in excellent shape, phenomenal physical condition for someone his age, but Cyrus seeing him naked was the stuff of nightmares.
Olivia Pope seeing him naked, on the other hand…
Everyone knew who Olivia Pope was. She was one of BNC's top media correspondents. She would go anywhere for a story and she was known for being fair, objective, neutral, words that were foreign concepts to the Media nowadays. It was all about following partisan lines and sensationalism. Who could come up with the most salacious headlines? Who could be the one to topple a great? Olivia was compassionate and could go from narrating a Dateline episode to showing rhythmically inept morning news anchors how to do the latest line dance in the middle of Times Square. Her written investigative articles were some of the best, arguably the best on certain political topics, and Fitz was glad that she had called him out yesterday.
He would've been disappointed if she hadn't.
He was sick of reporters that just regurgitated the same articles about him over and over again. He was sick of reporters who were too timid and awed to do their jobs properly. He was especially sick of the reporters who were obviously vultures just looking for a raunchy scoop, especially since his divorce became final last year.
Fitz wanted to talk with someone who was authentic, who was tough but yielding. He wanted a challenge and Olivia had risen to the occasion. Her call out had been like a mule kick to the ego at first but by the time Olivia was on her way out the Oval, Fitz was impressed. He was also hard enough to drive nails with it, not that Cyrus had noticed, too caught up in his own wounded pride fueled sulking. Abby had noticed but the brassy redhead had kept mum, albeit with a knowing smirk on her face when she noticed that he was holding his latest briefing awfully close to his lap.
It wasn't his fault. Okay, it was. He was a grown ass man, a very grown ass man. He wasn't a damned teenager that only needed a stray breeze nor was he a geriatric Casanova that needed a bit of a blue pill boost to get going. If his cock was hard, it was because he wanted it to be hard and he had certainly wanted it to be at the time.
It had been a very long time since a woman had so thoroughly captured his attention and Olivia Pope was as beautiful as she was brilliant. Not to mention that the last time he had an orgasm that hadn't been caused by his hands (he was ambidextrous: acquired the skill after seeing a squad mate going through rehab hell for his broken dominant hand…) had been when his youngest son had been conceived 4 years ago and he would've been better off with his hands. Olivia's hands…her lips…her legs…Kim Kardashian-West had nothing on her…
Firm knocking on the door brought his increasingly inappropriate thoughts to a screeching halt.
The identity of the woman being escorted by Abby had them resuming at Warp speed.
/
Skin.
Hair.
Eyes.
Muscles.
Feet.
So much skin, so much beautiful creamy tan skin, and so many muscles, lean and defined with just the right amount of bulk, just the right amount of promised strength. He looked like he could easily pick her up and hold onto her, could move her, pin her just right. Said muscles flexed and contracted pleasantly as he pulled on a light blue dress shirt, licking his lips in the process because why not? It's not she needed her ovaries intact. Why shouldn't he make them explode without hesitation?
Skin and muscles and oh dear God, he was actually hairy. Olivia had a thing for hairy men, not like Austin Powers hairy but hirsute enough to feel the friction, the difference of having a man in her bed, on her body, inside of her. Hairy men were so rare nowadays. Obsessive manscaping and laser removal still ruled the modern day grown man, much to her disappointment. If she wanted to feel silky smooth skin against hers, she'd go and find a woman.
Everyone was beautiful in their own ways but Olivia loved men, large and hairy. She also had a thing for nice feet, nice and big feet, big feet that were taken good care of without being pretentious or swishy about it. He was very tall, 6'2, near giant in comparison to her 5'4 without heels height. His salt and pepper hair was in short, soft looking ringlets from his shower. His big Sinatra like baby blues were looking right through her and Olivia knew that she was in big trouble, really big trouble. This man was a beautiful man outside and was still a beautiful man inside, despite him being a career politician, the current POTUS who she had…
"I'm sorry for how yesterday ended. I-I shouldn't have been so mean. Can we start over?"
She hadn't stuttered in front of a man since she was in undergrad and of course, she was blushing like a tomato. Her dark skin kept it from being too obvious but Olivia could feel the heat in her cheeks, heat deepened by the knowing look she knew was in Abby's eyes right now. Her best friend could read her like a comic book and it was only her professional poise keeping her from laughing like a madwoman.
Olivia made a mental note to beat her Celtic ass later.
He blinked once, twice, and the broad boyish smile that he gave her was like another volley of blows to her ovaries, her Gut, her mind…oh, this man was going to get her in so much trouble!
She wasn't sure if that knowledge should make her run for the hills or jump into his arms to kiss him, touch him, feel him all over her, feel him so deep inside of her. Olivia could see his large four poster bed made of mahogany through the open left master suite double door and an image of them in that bed together made her shiver…
"Don't apologize, Olivia. You were right and I was wrong. Of course we can start over."
"Good. That's great, Mr. President. Um, well, maybe…I was thinking that we could do a more informal Interview outside of the Oval. We could just walk and talk and it wouldn't have to be so stiff. I really want to hear from you, sir…"
"Fitz."
"…you, Fitz, not the Presidential you but the real you, the actual man. Can you do that for me?"
"Yes. I need to finish getting dressed. Can you meet me on the Truman Balcony in 10 minutes?"
"Okay. I'll be there."
The view of him was just as nice from the back. Not only did she have a thing for tall hairy men with nice feet, she had an appreciation for a man with a good ass. The Presidential ass was a thing of beauty and she wondered what it would feel like, what it would look like without pants and underwear, if he was even wearing underwear.
One of the effects of having such an attractive POTUS was all the salacious rumors about him, before and after his divorce. The top 3 were that he rarely wore underwear, he slept naked, and his favorite sex act was cunnilingus. The sources of those rumors were less than reputable but Olivia had always been a curious person. That was what led her into going into journalism (that and a fear of guns had her 86'ing going into law enforcement) and although it was more than a little inappropriate, she was tempted to add a question to find out the truth or better yet, go Hands On. Hands On was the best way to learn, after all…
"You're going to sleep with him."
"I am not! Are you crazy? It would be unethical, unprofessional, reckless, stupid…"
"Olivia Carolyn Pope, you are going to sleep with Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III. I know you are. We've been best friends for over 15 years and I know your type. Fitz is your type. I also know that when you really like a guy, you start stuttering and your face gets all red. Your cheeks are almost as red as my hair."
"Abigail…"
"You could do much worse and god knows that the both of you need to get laid."
"I'm a top investigative reporter and he's the highest profile politician in the Western World. The conflict of interest is obvious and it took me years to be seen as more than a token little black girl playing dress up with the big boys. The last thing I need is to literally fuck it up. Besides, can you really see me as his girlfriend? As his wife?"
"Who said anything about being his girlfriend or his wife? I was simply suggesting that you take the rising fever between you to the sheets and sweat it out. You're the one who went full speed ahead on the train to Commitment Town…"
Olivia gave her smirking friend a look flatter than club soda before sitting down on one of the outdoor couches to wait. Abby wasn't just talking about a one night stand or a quick fling with the POTUS, a so-called 'Wild Card' situation as White House slang termed it. Olivia was a staunch monogamist at the core and they both knew it. The ballsy redhead was suggesting that she should pursue a real 'Wild Card' relationship with her Interviewee, her best friend's boss, the Leader of the Free World...
Olivia hadn't been a real relationship for over 6 years, since her engagement to Senator Edison Davis of Florida fell apart. He had expected her to quit her job and become a proper political wife to him. When that didn't happen, he had decided to expand his horizons elsewhere. She had caught him doing so with one of his aides when she returned from Istanbul 4 days earlier than she was supposed to. In exchange for not derailing his all too precious political career (and for not castrating him with a butter knife), Edison hadn't fought her leaving him.
In fact, he was thankful. While gathering the last of his belongings, he took the time to lecture her about how "men" thought. According to Professor of Psychology within Traditional Western Gender Roles Davis, if she ever wanted to be married, if she wanted a family as she claimed, then she would have to make some serious personality changes. Her career would have to take a secondary role and she would have to open up without being forced to. Apparently, getting her to be open was a Herculean, Sisyphean task that he should be praised for trying to accomplish for so long.
She had given him praise in the form of a thrown cast iron frying pan at his fat head.
Actually, the frying pan had hit the vase behind his fat head but the sentiment was clear.
He had a valid point but his delivery was completely unacceptable and misogynistic, reminding her too much of the barbershop type of black man or much worse, her father in name only Eli!
Since the end of that disaster, it had been all about the Job, her friends, and if she wanted an orgasm or two, she had her fingers, her Hitachi, and a very vivid imagination to fill her needs. It had worked well for her but now…
President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III was going to get her in trouble.
President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III had already gotten her in trouble.
He was going to get her in even deeper trouble when it was all said and done and there was nothing she could do about it.
Damn it.
"He's not Davis and he's not Ballard, either. He's Fitz and he's a good man, despite him being a Republican and nowadays, he's more RINO-Hippie than anything. He's in his last year of Office so he can pretty much do whatever he wants without too much hell being raised afterwards."
"Even a young, black, and gifted female reporter?"
"Yep, and since there are rumors starting to float around that his divorce has him batting for the other team with a particularly sick one involving Cyrus gaining traction, if you two hooked up, it would do him a big Optical favor. If he hooked up with anyone, it would be a boost but I really think you two would be nice together. You've got a lot in common and you've already got a perfect potential portmanteau for yourselves: Olitz. It's a hell of a lot better than Mellitz or god forbid, Olake."
"Olake?"
"You and creepy Captain Ballard from the Pentagon."
"Ew. I'll think about it. After the Interview's done, I'll think about it. Not a second before. My professional credibility is at stake here. You know how this town is with women's reputations…"
"All too well…you're already sleeping with him in your mind, aren't you?"
"Shut up, Abby."
"You're going to sleep with him and love every goddamned minute of it."
"Shut up, Abby!"
"You're going to sleep with him and you're going to tell me all about it. On second thought, please don't. It would be like hearing about my older brother getting it on and that's just wrong."
"Oh, for the love of…"
/
Saturday Night…
"Hi, Olivia."
"Captain Ballard, what are you doing outside of my apartment?"
"You haven't answered my calls so I figured that it would be better to come to you in person. It wasn't very hard to find your address. The Pentagon has databases within databases."
"Why would you go through so much trouble to find me?"
"You don't have to sound like that. I'm not here to hurt you…"
"That remains to be seen. Captain Ballard…"
"Call me Jake."
"Captain Ballard, I am not interested in getting into a relationship with you."
"Who says that it has to be a relationship?"
"I do. I don't have sex with someone unless I'm in a relationship with them. Can you leave? My dinner is getting cold and few things taste worse than lukewarm Lo Mein chicken."
"Fitz is absolutely nuts for you, you know. Yeah, he and I are friends. We go way back. We were in the same Air Force squadron together. He invited me to the White House last night to watch your Primetime Special with all his staff and you could practically see the little pink hearts floating around his head…and yours, too. People are already starting to pair you two off on the internet. You should get ready for the vultures to start circling around both of you, demanding answers. You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"
"I resent your implication that all journalists are opportunistic scavengers. If all of what you just told me about your friendship and his feelings for me is true, then why did you show up here trying to get some? Isn't there a sacred Guy Code to follow in this situation?"
"There would be if this were a normal situation. Olivia, Fitz is a great guy but he's the President of the United States, the first one to be divorced and single since Grover Cleveland. Do you really want to sign up to be scrutinized for the rest of your life? Even if you and Fitz break up, you'll always be attached to his Legacy. No matter what else you did in your career, good or bad, it would all be forgotten under his umbrella. Would it be worth that? Would he be worth that?"
"You need to leave, now."
"I'm just reminding you to be realistic about your life, Olivia. I didn't mean to step on your toes or scare you. I'm looking out for you. Someone should, don't you think?"
"I can take care of myself and I'm quite realistic. As for not trying to step on my toes, you should've considered that before you abused government resources so you could lurk at my doorstep. Get out or I'm calling the police. Don't ever come back."
Keeping her eyes and can of mace locked on the eerily calm man near the ficus, Olivia hit the call button for the elevator. The gilded doors opened immediately and she used her free hand to hold the nearest one open. With a smug smirk playing at his lips, Ballard pushed out of his corner and entered the elevator, making sure to brush against her as he did so. Her body instinctively recoiled at the brief contact. The revulsion she felt must have shown on her face because an expression of rage clouded over Ballard's features as the elevator doors shut in front of him. Moving quickly, Olivia entered her apartment and made sure to lock the door behind her before sitting on the floor across from it, listening closely.
After 10 minutes of silence, she got up and withdrew to her bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her. The chair in front of her vanity went beneath the doorknob and she drew the curtains shut, unsure if Ballard had set up a hidey hole nearby. If not him, then a less scrupulous contemporary of hers or a tabloid photographer would soon. Like she said, she was realistic and once she and Fitz…she and President Grant had gotten past their rough beginning, the Interview had been a blast.
He was articulate with his honest answers, authentic without being clumsy or crass. He also the same wicked, dark, and slightly self deprecating sense of humor she had. She had spent a lot of the time laughing and had even slugged him in the arm, much to his amusement. The Interview itself had been done before lunchtime on the second day so the rest of the time was just spent hanging out with him, getting to know him, having the best time she had with a man in years with him…
The lukewarm and boring tour of the White House had been supplemented by one he had personally given her. His tour had been one involving secret passageways, meeting various staff members, and ended with her watching in jealous awe as he devoured two slices of cheesecake and a Boston Creme donut like it was nothing. Apparently, he had a very high metabolism to go with an amazing workout regimen because a man who had such a large sweet tooth should not look as beautiful as he did.
No person who held such a stressful job, the most stressful and coveted job in the Land, should be as kind as he still was but Fitz…President Grant…Fitz was proving to be an exception. He was an outlier, similar but so very different from the politicians and men she had interacted with in the past. He was still a flawed man but there was an element of goodness to him, an organic and fundamental goodness that drew her in like a moth to a flame…
/
Monday…
"He did what?! Why didn't you call me? Oh, my God, did he hurt you? There's more than one type of hurt, Olivia …to hell with that! No, I will not let it go! Would you let it go if it was me? As soon as I get out of here, I'm beating his ass and then I'm gonna shoot him in it, Job be damned! I don't care... you're my best friend and if he can do it once, he can do it again. Maybe you should go to a hotel or you can come stay with me for a while…fine, then, I'm coming to stay with you and you definitely need to report him…he's not worth the trouble but you are and think about it: if he can do it to you, he can do it to someone else…exactly…look, I have to go but I'll see you later. Let me know if he comes near you again, okay? Okay. Bye, Liv-Liv…"
"What happened to Olivia?"
"Mr. President! How long have you been standing…?"
"What happened to Olivia, Abby? Tell me."
"Um, it was Captain Ballard, sir. He's been trying to get her to go out with him for a while but she's not interested. She's been dodging his phone calls so he showed up at her place on Saturday night. He didn't put his hands on her or anything like that but he scared her. He really scared her. She didn't leave her place all weekend and she thought about calling out of work today but she doesn't do that unless she's hospital bound. One time when we were in college, she went to work with a stomach ache from what she thought was bad pasta but it turned out that her appendix was about to burst and…"
"Call her back and give me the phone. Now."
Fitz took in Abby's wary body language as she complied and made a note to apologize for rattling her later. His temper took a lot to provoke. Being a father of 3 and years of dealing with Big Jerry's, Mellie's, and Cyrus' nonsense had lengthened his fuse. However, the very idea of Olivia Pope being terrorized by a man, a man that he called a friend, had him on the verge of exploding. Quiet anger was much more dangerous than shouting and it burned like acid in his veins. The nerve of Jake Ballard! How fucking dare he? Real men didn't bully women and they certainly didn't make them feel the need to hide away from the world to feel safe again. It was unacceptable!
"Abby, I said I was fine. Stop worrying about me…"
"I'm not Abby."
"Fitz…um, I mean…"
"You mean Fitz. Are you all right?"
"…she told you."
"I overheard. Do you need anything? How can I help you?"
"You can help me by not killing, maiming, or deporting your friend."
"Anyone who thinks it's okay to hurt a woman or child is no friend of mine. If Abby doesn't get him, I will. Even if she does kick his ass, he and I are still going to have words. Today."
Abby being Abby nodded and left the room to inform Charlotte of his intentions. Jake Ballard wouldn't get away with what he did scot free, not while Fitz was breathing. Violence and intimidation against women and children turned his stomach. It always had.
The idea of his Livvie so hurt, so vulnerable, so scared because of that son of a bitch…
"Please don't, Fitz. He's not worth it."
"You are, Livvie."
"Livvie?"
"Only if you like it…"
"Yes, you can call me Livvie…just…don't put him in the hospital and don't fire him until you find proof that he's hurt anyone. I'm sure it's there and I want first dibs on the scoop when you find it."
Fitz chuckled and replied, "Yes, ma'am.", pleased to hear her quiet laugh over the line.
/
"She told you, huh? She says that she can take care of herself but then, she promptly calls on her POTUS Knight in Shining Brooks Brothers to do her dirty work…"
"Why did you hurt her, Jake?"
"Hurt her? I didn't lay a finger on her!"
"You don't have to draw blood or leave a bruise to hurt someone. You scared her. I haven't dated in a while but rule of thumb is that if the individual you're courting ends up so frightened of you that they feel the need to hide or call the authorities, then you're doing it wrong."
"Fitz…"
"Shut up. Captain Ballard, I've contacted your superiors about the situation and they'll be investigating your behavior on and off the clock. Until you're cleared, you will be suspended with pay from your position at the Pentagon and barring an emergency, your access to the White House has been revoked."
"Anything else, sir?"
"One more thing."
Fitz's left fist sailed into the incensed man's nose with a satisfying crunch. When he staggered, a rapid volley of shots to the ribs and kidneys had him doubled over wheezing and coughing. Good. The bruised and bleeding nose would improve within 48 hours but he'd be in pain from his torso for at least a fortnight. The lingering pain would teach him not to bully women. It would teach him to accept the basic idea that No meant No. It would teach him not to hurt his Livvie, not to even breathe in her direction ever again or there would be sheer hell to pay.
Olivia could certainly take care of herself. She could hold her own and Fitz admired that greatly but that didn't mean that he wasn't going to defend her. Even the strongest people needed backup sometimes…
"Get him out of my sight!" he ordered a startled looking Charlotte and SSA Daniel Benson.
/
It had taken multiple promises to call in the morning and bringing up that she only had a limited time to spend with Leo but Olivia had convinced Abby not to come over.
She loved her best friend to death but she needed to think and in order to think, she needed quiet. Abby was anything but quiet, which was a big part of her appeal but still…she was grateful to be alone. Shortly after 2PM, she had gotten a call in her office from a big-wig at the Pentagon, assuring her that Captain Ballard's behavior would not be tolerated. He was under suspension, house arrest, and their Internal Affairs department was looking into him with cooperation from the White House itself. Since Ballard hadn't put his hands on her or broken into her place while waiting for her return (she had done a thorough sweep for cameras and bugs to make sure…), pressing charges couldn't happen but the Incident was on record.
Cooperation from the White House itself…his knuckles were bruised and scraped. Fitz had taken his kids to Gettysburger for lunch (the oldest two were spending the first month of their summer break in DC and he had primary custody of his youngest…) and a picture revealed his recent activities. He had indeed 'had words' with Ballard and the conversation had ended in violence. A small part of her was repulsed at the typical Alpha Male behavior but, the majority of her felt grateful. It was always nice to know that she had people who cared about her backing her up and Fitz did care about her. She cared about him, too. She cared about him in a way that she hadn't considered caring about anyone since Edison and even before him.
Grateful and very turned on…Fitz had gone to bat for her. Fitz had used his words and then his body to defend her from an entitled creep who wouldn't take a hint. Was it bad to be turned on by the idea of him shedding blood for her? She wasn't a shrinking violet. She had no qualms about taking matters into her own hands, whether it be with words, a brick, or a well placed knee to the groin. She didn't need a big strong man to defend her honor but…oh, it was so nice to have one. Did she have one? She and Fitz had established a friendship, not to mention that the chemistry between them crackled like electricity but there had been no declarations. She didn't want to make any assumptions, especially since that he was the President of the United States.
Of the billions of men in the world to catch feelings for, she had to pick the damned POTUS!
Why did she always have to be so difficult? Jesus…
Chuckling, she took another drink of wine and popped a steamed dumpling into her mouth.
She didn't agree with her sperm donor about a lot of subjects but she did subscribe to his idea that Popes thrived on chaos, that they were absolutely addicted to it.
There would be few things more chaotic than getting between the sheets and into a real relationship with the President of the United States. Sure, he only had a year left in office but he would forever be #44. So much chaos and triumphs had happened in his first term alone, he would never be able to have a fully normal life again. He was a Living American Legend now and she would become a part of his Legacy. Whether she'd be a footnote or there would be a whole chapter dedicated to her was unknown but she was sure of three things.
She had feelings for Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III that weren't going away anytime soon.
Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III had feelings for her that weren't going away anytime soon.
They needed to talk.
/
Meanwhile…
His knuckles burned and throbbed underneath his skin but he welcomed the pain.
Fitz also welcomed the censure he had faced from Cyrus for his actions. Apparently, it was behavior unbecoming of a sitting President to pummel a bastard and then flaunt the warrior wounds. People were asking exactly what happened and Ballard's appearance hadn't gone unnoticed by the Staff or the Press Corp. Why would the President attack his longtime friend? What had Captain Ballard done to deserve it? Fitz wasn't known for being hotheaded. One of the most common complaints about him was that he was too nice to do his job. Why had he hit his friend? Were they still friends? Was there money involved? Was there a failed power grab involved?
Was it because of Olivia Pope? It had to be because of Olivia Pope. Few things busted up a friendship more than carrying a torch for the same person. Olivia Pope had to be involved in making the President go caveman somehow!
After all, their excellent Interview had been more like two friends (or awkward crushing teenagers…) talking than anything and no one missed the way they moved together, not to mention the looks he gave her when he thought no one was watching. He was obviously smitten with the woman and that was good to see. He was a divorced man, still in his prime. All work and no play made the POTUS a dull boy. It wouldn't do for him to be alone forever, despite how much his ex-wife desperately hoped he would be.
She had fought the divorce with everything she had, including their children. After it had gone through, it had taken months for the woman to stop using his last name and that was only because she had been forced to legally. She hadn't been willing to let his political capital go. Him, she could care less about and in her eyes, the whole divorce was nothing but a misunderstanding that he had blown out of proportion.
Of course, if Junior Virginia Senator Melody 'Mellie' Vaughn hadn't cheated on him to begin with, particularly with members of the Secret Service, then none of it would've happened. Fitz had been gracious in helping her get elected because she had made no secret that politics was her first love (tied with herself) and if she actually had her own political capital, she could stop leeching off of his. She was running for President now and writing a book. Unless she had a miracle worker and a ghost writer, both endeavors would crash and burn.
There was current Republican Vice President Susan Ross and the Democrat Governor of Pennsylvania Francisco Vargas for her to take on. Mellie's Planned Parenthood Filibuster had been amazing but it was minor compared to what Susan and Vargas had accomplished during their careers. Without nepotism or conniving, Mellie's campaign wouldn't even make it to Super Tuesday.
Since Fitz had made it clear that helping her become Senator was his parting gift and Cyrus was thoroughly Team Vargas, Mellie was on her own. Plus, any book she wrote would be nothing more than self indulgent, faux feminist toilet paper. Mellie overestimated her capabilities and took credit for things she really had no right to, particularly when it came to "making a President", as if he were nothing more than a fucking product, an damned object, a burden that she had oh so gracefully endured for the Greater Good…
The book would be one of the biggest crocks of bullshit to ever come out of politics.
It would be the biggest crock of literary bullshit since 50 Shades of Grey.
Yes, Fitz had read 50 Shades of Grey (it was all Abby's fault!) and he still regretted doing so.
His ex-wife had set herself up for her ultimate downfall and Fitz was just glad that he would be able to watch the inevitable carnage from a safe distance. He had quite enough of being collateral damage from her shenanigans, thank you very much!
There was a risk that Olivia could be running a con just like Mellie used to. Cyrus had none too subtly implied that during his dressing down of him after Ballard left. Why on Earth would he pummel someone for her? She was a journalist. She was a top investigative reporter and investigative reporters would do anything for a Pulitzer. They pursued them like racing dogs on the track. Olivia could just be pretending to be his friend. She could be exploiting the chemistry between them for the sake of a scoop. Hadn't he considered that?
Of course, he had. Contrary to popular belief, Fitz was not a stupid man nor was he blind, deaf, and dumb to the Games people in DC loved to play.
Olivia Pope wasn't running a con on him. He knew that in his bones. The positive feelings she felt for him as a professional and as a man were completely legitimate. What he was uncertain of was how deep the feelings she felt for him went. Was she just interested in being his friend? If so, that would be wonderful. Friends came in short supply for him, even before his Presidency, and Olivia wouldn't be a 'frenemy'. Was she interested in more than friendship? She seemed to be, especially when they bantered (she packed a hell of a wallop, god help him if she ever hit him like she meant it…) but he didn't want to assume anything.
Olivia was a brilliant, kind, and gorgeous young woman. She was at the top of her Game and she could be with anyone. Why would she choose him? Fitz wasn't a monster but a solid case could be made for him being a lot more trouble than he was worth. He was the Leader of the Free World for another year but the fishbowl that POTUS provoked would never really go away. If she attached herself to him, she'd become a part of his Legacy, whether they worked out or not. He was 16 years older than her with 3 children and a half crazed, petty ex-wife who would be all too glad to pitch a show stopping number of a fit at the very idea of him moving on, especially with someone who was better than her in every way that truly mattered.
Olivia deserved better than a bullying urchin like his former friend but Fitz accepted that she deserved a hell of a lot better than him, too.
However, taking away her right to choose or reject him due to that knowledge would be unacceptable. It would be downright presumptuous, not to mention very cliché. How many stories had been written, movies made about the older, self loathing suitor making the choice to stay away and making the younger, understanding, absolutely perfect for them interest give up on them or nearly give up on them because they decided to be "noble"? Hundreds? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions, even? Fitz refused to be stupid and follow that pattern, no matter how tempting it was. After all, if he did, he wouldn't have to risk being rejected.
The alternative of keeping quiet and letting the opportunity pass him by was worse than being rejected, though. At least with a rejection, he would know exactly where he stood with Olivia and it certainly didn't mean that they couldn't still be friends. It would be awkward at first but…
He wanted Olivia Pope to stay in his life.
Whether she'd be in it as a friend or a lover or someplace in between, it didn't matter.
One way or the other, Fitz had to find out what her feelings were and then, they had to decide where they would go from there.
They had to talk.
/
Two Weeks Later…
"What are you after? What do you want from him?"
"Did you know that this Reflecting Pool used to be a zoo? It also served as a graveyard but it's too gorgeous out to dwell on that. Few things are more beautiful than Washington, D.C. in summer, even with the humidity."
"Pope…"
"Have you tried the new Gettysburger shake yet? It's called Minty Moose for Teddy Roosevelt. The moose tracks ice cream represents his Bull Moose Party and everyone knows that mint juleps were his favorite way to get silly. It's so good that you don't even miss the booze and when you pair it with fresh Freedom Fries? It's like paradise in your mouth…"
"He's in his last year of office. His approval ratings have finally recovered from the divorce and the Brandon Parker Bill is actually on the verge of passing. He doesn't need…what do you want from him, Pope? Don't tell me that you don't want anything from him. You're a journalist. Journalists always have an ulterior motive for everything they do…"
"Did you have such a bad opinion of my profession while you were married to James Novak?"
"Yes. Look, this isn't about me…"
"Isn't everything about you, though? For the record, James didn't divorce you because of his career. He divorced you because you repeatedly broke his heart and broke his spirit. You were a selfish power mad asshole and he couldn't take it anymore. He realized that he didn't have to take it anymore and that he deserved better than you. He terminated your parental rights to Ella Margaret because you never really wanted her to begin with. He's a panelist with BNC Britain and is happily remarried to a nice Scottish historian with 3 rescue cats, not because of his career but because of you. You had a husband who adored you and you couldn't appreciate him. You had a chance to have something real, genuine joy that wasn't dependent on polls or back alley conniving, and you squandered it. You sacrificed your chance at real love on the altar of political prestige and what makes your situation even more pathetic is that you will never be the one sitting behind the Resolute. You're too old, too gay, and you've burned way too many bridges to make it happen."
"What the hell do you want from Fitz?"
"You won't understand it. In order for you to do so, you'd have to be a man with a conscience and a basic understanding of emotions outside of the context of manipulating them to get what you want from those around you. You're not. You're a high functioning sociopath. There's no use trying to explain it to you and I don't have to."
"You have to if you want to continue whatever the hell you call yourself doing with him!"
"The only thing I have to do is stay black and die. If you're really so concerned about our unfolding situation, why don't you act like a grown up and go directly to Fitz for answers? Or did you already crash and burn there? You did, didn't you? Oh, I would've loved to be a fly on the wall for that. I also would've enjoyed watching him kick Jake Ballard's ass. He's been dismissed from his duties at the Pentagon and taken into custody. Apparently, when he wasn't sexually harassing women, he was a big American fish in the black market, selling Intel to the highest bidder. He's going down for high treason and he'll never see the light of day again, thank God. I knew he wasn't right. My Gut never fails me. Would you like to know what it's telling me about you, now?"
"I was hoping that one of you could be reasonable…"
"You were hoping that one or both of us could be manipulated away from each other because you don't like change. You don't like losing control. Fitz has been breaking away from you little by little and instead of seeing how better off he is for it, all you see is your personal power base crumbling. You only care about him as a springboard or scapegoat, not as a person. You don't like me and it's not just because I'm a reporter. You don't like me because you can't control me. You don't get me. I don't behave in the ways you expect me to so you're legitimately afraid of me and that's very, very sad. I'm not a monster. I'm actually quite nice as long as you don't insult or annoy me or hurt those I care for like Fitz and I do care for him, Cyrus. Deeply. That's all you need to know and what would be in your best interests to accept."
/
Friday Night…
As the dance floor began to fill up, Fitz became a man on a mission.
He only wanted to dance with one woman tonight and he couldn't do that if he couldn't find her.
Fitz spotted her immediately behind the velvet rope and a smile curved his lips upwards. She was in a short sleeved black and white tea length cocktail dress. 3 white horizontal stripes divided the black bodice of it equally. The skirt of it was full and swishy, layered with white, black, and silver tulle. 4 inch white classic pumps were on her feet and they matched the snowdrop bloom covered comb she had put in her onyx hair. Her hair was in a sleek low chignon and her lips were painted a deep raspberry red, red lips that were parted in a brilliant smile as she talked with Abby. Said Abby's eyes widened at the sight of him and Olivia's doe eyed amber gaze locked on him immediately, emphasized by her smoky eye makeup.
Matter of factly, he opened the purple velvet rope and grasped her wrist gently but firmly, leading her back towards the ongoing festivities. Olivia looked at him incredulously, gasping as they entered the ballroom. Turning around, he looked at her. The golden light made the white diamond studs in her ears sparkle and reflected off of the laminated finish of her Press pass that was still around her neck. They stood on the edge of the dance floor, waiting for the latest song to end.
"What are you doing?"
Her cheeks were flushed to near sunburnt red and the tip of his tongue darted over his lower lip at the image of seeing her flushed in a whole different way.
Stepping forward, he gently removed the pass and put it in his inner jacket pocket for safekeeping.
"Fitz, what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm about to dance with you."
"You are?"
"Unless you don't want to…"
"I do want to! I just…we just…I…well…everyone's watching us...they'll say that we're…"
"I know…it'll be okay, Livvie."
"If you say so…y-you look handsome. The tux with tails…it works for you…"
/
After their first dance became a second before smoothly transitioning into a third, it dawned on her that this was Fitz's way of making his intentions known. He was interested in her and he didn't give a damn who knew about it.
The revelation was frightening but exhilarating, making her smile up at him shyly, a smile he readily returned. Olivia knew that they still needed to talk but actions spoke louder than words, especially in the circles they dwelled in.
Keeping that in mind, she rested a gentle hand on the nape of his neck as they swayed to the slow jazzy tune the band had struck up. Her fingers went into his hair and she was pleased to find out that it was as luxuriously soft as it looked. Fitz's arms tightened around her in response and she made a soothing noise, reassuring him that she wouldn't stop or pull away. Why would she pull away? He looked good, he smelled good, and he felt good. No, not just good. He felt right. His embrace felt like coming home after a journey full of epic adventures and long layovers. He felt like a nice hot bath, her favorite blanket, a perfect glass of red wine. He just felt…
The sound of applause jerked her out of her thoughts and they stopped moving, coming full circle to where they started. The band was taking a break and people were returning to their tables. Fitz's arms released her but he didn't walk away. There was less than a foot of space between them and he looked at her shyly, his ears going pink…
"We need to talk, Fitz."
"We do."
"Rose Garden or the Truman?"
"It's up to you, Livvie."
/
"We're good together."
The shot was of them during their second dance and had caught the moment when he just spun her out. She was beaming at him and Fitz hadn't seen that broad or goofy of a smile on his face outside of the days his children were born. A softer version of the smile was on his face as Olivia rotated her phone to read the caption underneath the already viral picture. The first thing she had done when they got to the Balcony was to remove her heels so she only came up to the middle of his chest. Her white trench coat and black purse were on one of the loungers, the same lounger she had claimed during their Interview and…she looked like she had just come home to him.
"Even though we're 15 years into the 21st century, DC can be downright Victorian when it comes to the love lives of its high profile people, especially if there's a journalist in the mix."
"True."
"Knowing that, you asked me to dance and kept me all to yourself during a very public Dinner."
"I did."
"Why?"
"You already know why."
"I want to hear you say it. I'm going to be jumping off this cliff with you so I'd like words."
"I have feelings for you, Olivia. I have since we met and they're not going away anytime soon. I don't want them to go away. If you're willing, I'd like to explore them and see where they go. You and I are already good friends but…"
"…we would be better lovers or we'd at least fail amicably."
"I don't know how to do that with someone…fail amicably. Actually, I don't know how to be in a healthy romantic relationship at all."
"You were married for over a decade, Fitz."
"Liv, my marriage was anything but healthy or romantic."
"True…well, I don't know how to do a healthy romantic relationship either but I still want to try and make it work with you. It'd be a shame not to. We're good together."
"We really are."
Warm silence fell between them and Fitz took the hand she had rested on the wrought iron railing. Immediately, Olivia's fingers curved to twine with his and they both looked out at the view in front of them. It was a beautiful view. The South Lawn stretched out like verdant velvet and all of the Monuments were lit, the marble they were made of taking on a near life like glow. Other Presidents, other diplomats, and high profile people had stood where they were and took in the view, one of the most coveted views in the Land.
The woman next to him was a far better view, one that he hoped to enjoy for a long time…
"So, what happens now?"
"…whatever we want."
/
She couldn't stop smiling nor could he.
Between kisses, she traced the dimple in his right cheek with a tender fingertip.
Fitz was on his back in his bed, stripped to the waist and she was draped over him, her dress rustling with each movement. Bracing herself, Olivia sat up and straddled him firmly, delighting in the feel of him underneath her palms. He was warm, firm, and broad, her ideal lover. Lover…she liked the sound of that. Goosebumps erupted as she stroked her hands downward, following the cobblestone dips and grooves of his abdomen. His hands slid underneath the hem of her dress and easily cupped her behind, squeezing it firmly as he rolled his hips upwards. Olivia unclipped the white suspenders from his pants and added them to the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
Fitz sat up and took full control of their kisses, making them firm and plundering. Olivia shivered and nodded, receiving him and allowing him to take down her hair, to bury his fingers in it, to tug at it just right…
The need for oxygen forced them apart and she took the opportunity to lower the hidden side zipper of her dress. Reluctantly, she dismounted him and he swung his legs over the side of the bed to help her disrobe. Her dress hit the floor with a soft whoosh and she picked it up, shaking it out firmly before draping it over the back of the sofa. The dress wasn't couture but it was still one of her best ones and tulle wrinkles were some of the hardest, most time consuming things to get rid of. She had much better things to do with her time than to spend hours wrestling with a steamer.
She had a Fitz to do.
The aforementioned Fitz had come up behind her and Olivia moaned as he began kissing her neck, his arm going around her middle. Even through his tuxedo pants, she could feel the heat and throb of his arousal against her and she rolled her hips in response to it. The feral growl that rumbled in his chest made her already hard nipples stiffen to the point of pain and she undid the front clasp of her white lace bra quickly. As soon as it fell away, he turned her around and gently lowered her so she was sitting on the edge of the sofa. He settled onto his knees and she shuddered as his mouth went to the growing wet patch on the front of her matching panties.
/
He couldn't get enough of her.
He was wearing his pants and he was deeply aroused but the more he tasted of her, the more he wanted. Fitz slid his tongue deeper into her pulsing, gushing silk and she bucked upwards as if she were struck. He would never do that to her. Any man who raised a malicious hand to a woman deserved to have the hand cut off. He just wanted to make her feel good, to make her feel wanted, and god, she was delectable. She was sweet and sticky and so hot. He could spend the rest of his life between her legs.
As her body went supple again, Fitz pulled his mouth away from her sex. She let out a quiet moan that was both disappointed and relieved. She was soaked and dripping wet, her dusky skin flushed to a becoming shade of pink. Kissing up her trembling abdomen, he took her left nipple into his mouth and she sighed deeply, beginning to play with his hair again.
"…so good…god, Fitz…"
Suckling harder, he pulled his Livvie off of the sofa and her back made gentle contact with the plush rug that took up most of the floor. She cried out wordlessly as he took her neglected nipple into his mouth and he groaned happily. Oh, how he had missed doing this. Pleasing a woman, learning her, taking care of her…
/
Olivia gently grasped his wrist and brought him to the side of the bed. Sitting up, she undid the button to his tux pants and carefully lowered the zipper. Her fingertips skimmed over the trembling flesh just below his navel and a small smile tugged at her lips as they ventured lower.
Two out of the top three salacious rumors about him had been confirmed: he absolutely loved to go down on a woman and he wasn't wearing any underwear. If he could attend a formal state dinner Commando, then it stood to reason that he did other things, Presidential or otherwise, in the same fashion. It was nice to know and she would keep the much coveted knowledge to herself. Yes, she was a reporter, an investigative reporter, but some things were best kept a mystery to the Masses, especially the panting female in heat Masses that had been after him since his divorce. Hell, some of them hadn't even cared about the ring on his finger!
Once he was as nude as she was, Olivia shifted so he could climb into bed with her and both of them moaned as full skin on skin contact was made. Leveraging herself forward, she put Fitz on his back and kissed him, placing firm hands on his shoulders. If he really wanted to, he could get out from underneath her easily. He was almost a full foot taller than her and had about 100 more pounds of muscle to work with but she was pleased to feel him relax into the mattress. She wanted to see his face while they made love and it was lovemaking. Sex was too weak a word to describe their actions and she wouldn't dare call it fucking. That wasn't to say that she didn't want to eventually be fucked by him but still…
"Livvie?"
She was overthinking things again. Olivia positioned herself and slowly lowered herself onto his cock, moaning as he met her halfway. It had been years since she had been intimate with a man and her previous lovers didn't come close to him. He was had more girth than length but the length, his length touched her in places that made her toes curl. A look of pleasure skirting the edge of pain twisted and slackened his features and she giggled quietly, rocking against him.
"Look at me…look at me or I'll stop…"
Blown pupils ringed with fevered cobalt immediately seared her and his hands went to her hips, steadying her as he thrust up into her. Reaching, she grabbed one of the supporting columns of the bed to steady herself and thankfully, she had been keeping up with her Pilates because it was only her strong core muscles keeping her from collapsing against him. Once her body had gotten used to him, she had set a hard and fast pace, one that was very much appreciated by him. Both of them were moaning, groaning, and a particularly well placed thrust made her yelp. His nostrils flared in response to that noise and Olivia held onto him tightly as he sat up, his left hand resting heavily in the space where her neck met her jaw when her back hit the mattress.
Her eyes widened as he squeezed gently and she brought her hand to his wrist not to knock the grip away but to hold it there. Fitz used the grip to tilt her head and his lips rubbed against her cheek before he brought her mouth back to his.
It didn't take very long them to fall over the edge after that.
Olivia grunted as his full weight rested on her and Fitz quickly reversed their positions. Her cheek was resting on his sternum and she held onto him, moaning quietly as stray aftershocks went up and down her spine. Fitz's lips pressed to her brow and he drew her closer to him, to warm her, to cradle her against him…
"Are you okay?"
"More than okay…"
"Good. Do you want some water?"
"Sure."
"I'll be right back."
Olivia giggled quietly at the sight of his wobbly knees and she merely grinned at the baleful look he shot her. His lips pursed and he continued into the master bathroom, the faucet turning on. Slowly, Olivia crawled underneath the rumpled bedding and reclined on her side, claiming one of the plush white pillows for herself. Fitz returned with a tall glass of cool water and she downed half before passing the glass to him to finish. After placing the empty glass on the nightstand, he turned off the bedside lamp and settled into bed next to her, making sure to spread the bedding evenly over both of them. Scooting over, she returned to his arms and put hers around him, her eyes growing heavier by the second.
"Good night, Livvie."
She pressed a kiss to his chest and nuzzled against him.
"Good night, Fitz."