A/N: The first of many (probably) Olitz drabbles. They're not mine, or this would already be canon.

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Craving

He could tell she was frustrated, the emotion on every inch of her face, in her every move. The tension palpable. Her clothes were getting tighter and and her feet were often swollen. Her patience with nearly everything was thin, and her lips were pursed as she poured herself a glass of grape juice. Fitz smirked a little as he watched her. It wasn't wine. And her annoyance at that fact was beyond obvious as he observed her from the doorway of their kitchen. Even in her mood swings and the slightly melodramatic tantrums of her early pregnancy, he absolutely adored her. She drove him crazy in the best and worst ways.

It was after all, why he had married her.

He stepped into the room and wrapped his arms around her from behind. The touch surprised her, and he felt her jump before settling into the embrace.

"Hi," he breathed against her ear, his lips brushing against the skin of her neck. His body snuggly fit to the curves of hers. Fitz should tread lightly. Olivia's hormones had been sending her into a spiral of rage at the smallest thing, and the last thing he wanted to do was end up in the doghouse (Literally. The last time she had booted him from their bedroom with only their Golden Retriever, Henry, to keep him warm as he slept in the guest room without her).

But god, he wanted her. It had been a busy week for them. She had spent most of it in DC working on a case and Fitz had been flying around for meetings and speaking engagements. There had been little time for each other, save for a few phone calls and a Skype date the night before from his hotel. She had been wearing a simple plum colored nightie with thin straps that had made him drool over the sight of her exposed skin. Skin he wanted to kiss and caress. The thought had been distracting him all day. He couldn't get her out of his head.

He wondered if she had any idea what she did to him. What she had been doing to him since the day they met.

"Hi," she returned, her body shifting so that she was facing him. Her hands cupped his face and he leaned to meet her in a kiss.

It ended far too soon for his liking.

"Grape juice?" He asked, unable to hide his amused smirk.

She glared at him. At his nerve.

"Don't, or you won't be seeing me naked anytime soon," she threatened.

That made him chuckle. They both knew that neither would last long in the game of withholding sex. He'd have her cornered and she'd be climbing him like a tree before a week passed.

It was an empty threat.

"Do you want me to have a glass for you?" He teased further, his hands skimming up her ribcage lightly. "I can kiss you after every sip."

He leaned in for a kiss, and she swatted at his chest half-heartedly, denying him access to her lips.

"You're an asshole," she pointed out, keeping her expression serious for just a fraction of a moment before a smile broke through.

It wasn't a bad idea though, she had to admit. If she couldn't drink wine herself, the next best thing would be to taste it on her husband. And the wine kisses would lead to other things. Better things.

Things she also craved.

Olivia pulled him down for a deep kiss, her fingers diving into his curls. She felt his demeanor switch, his hands groping possessively at her ass, and she pulled back, a tiny grin on her mouth.

"Pour yourself a glass and meet me in the bedroom," she ordered, her hand trailing down his torso but stopping short of where he wanted it most.

His eyes watched her as she walked away from him in her confident, sexy strut. Her hips swayed deliciously.

How did he get so lucky?