A/N I wrote after the table read for Randy, Red, SuperFreak and Julia. Because they weren't sitting together I imagined they'd have a scene with no words except, Hi! Which Kerry totally misled us into believing was Olitz!. Which they did! But this is better…
On a draped couch, Olivia sits anxiously, her clasped hands tapping her mouth. Although extremely pensive, she visibly glances at the door every thirty seconds. She bolts up at the sound of a helicopter landing and immediately begins her frantic circle pacing. Suddenly, the door's ajar. The towering, disconsolate creature standing there opened it with such brute force, as though it alone were culpable for every horrid occurrence in his life. Olivia flinches in solidarity with the innocent door, inexplicable pain written all over her face. For one minute they just stand there: door ajar, wind blowing, candles flickering, both spinning in a whirlpool of anguish and unsettling longing. Shaken and scarcely breathing, Olivia whispers,
"Hi."
He chucks his bag to the ground, bangs the door shut and mumbles,
"Hi" He strides to where she is barely on her feet.
Olivia abruptly moves towards the staircase as though petrified by the menacing look in his eyes. However, as she grips on to the rails it becomes apparent she sought to regain control of her wavering body. Fitz is surprised by her hasty maneuver. Gazing at her incredible, petite form, directly beneath the only electric light in the room, his face softens. Defeated, he hangs his head. Melancholy is all that lingers. Olivia's underlip trembles at the sight of her beloved so dejected, further exacerbated by the dim candlelight silhouetting his muscular frame. She sharply inhales at so much beauty wrapped up in so much grief. She mouths "Fitz" but no sound is forthcoming. Tears lacing down his cheeks he languidly looks up at her. Abandoning all attempts at speech, with her perfectly manicured hands, she beckons him to her. Like a puppet to his master, he is compelled. "The Light" plays in the background. Fitz stands at the bottom of the staircase. Olivia tenderly cups his face with her hands. As she's gazing at him, she slides her fingers into his curls. He sobs quietly into her bosom. A morose look in her eyes, she cradles him in her arms.
With his chin pressed against her cleavage, he blinks up at her, dry tears drenched by those still free-flowing. In that moment, she wills every fiber of her being to flourish affection. Every bit of it for him, just so as to erase all that stupid distress in his eyes. She wipes his cheeks with her two thumbs and proceeds to plant the gentlest of kisses on the tracks of his tears. Olivia revels in their salty taste as if that fact alone is capable of transferring all of his pain onto her. Kissing dry the persistent poignant waters, she replaces them with sweet warm beads of love. After some time her lips move to his. Initially, she brushes her bottom lip with his upper lip, her top lip delicately touching his nose. Olivia protracts this activity, forcing him to release the gut-wrenching pain, the indignant anger, the deep sorrow... and to just be there with her. In the hopes that the touch of her lips, remembering how she feels against him will erase all of it. As well as her unwarranted guilt over the death of his son. And more fitting remorse over leaving him. Leaving him with her. With Cyrus. With the truth in all its lugubrious glory. Without Gerry. All alone. A prisoner of his over-whelming, lump-in-throat emotions set free only by sharing them with the one person who couldn't be there. Who wasn't there. All alone.
She can feel him letting go of all of it; allowing himself to get lost in her. Her Fitz is coming back to her. As he begins to respond, she unlocks his mouth with her wet tongue letting it linger without stirring. Taking bait, he connects his tongue with hers and wildly whips it all around. He shifts into a more comfortable position and clenches her hair. Without the slightest counsel, he pulls her head back to lodge desperate kisses all over her neck. Olivia's whimpers are not subdued by the cackling firewood or the willowing wind encapsulated by Vermont's finest nocturnal screechings and ululations; rejoicing that their home is once again surrounded by extraordinary love. As though encouraged by the celebratory cheers, Fitz sensually slides his hand down Olivia's body, all the way down to that place he thoroughly enjoys discovering ALL the secrets of the universe. The wind, fire and nocturnals are clearly stunned into silence for Olivia's shriek is suddenly the only sound for miles, reverberating throughout the mountainous region. One more squeal, and another and yet another, her heart syncopating with each echo. Sufficiently aroused, she clutches his hand and leads him up the stairs.
Upstairs, she guides him into the master bedroom. It's empty but for a King sized bed draped in white everything. He throws her a wicked grin. She reciprocates and slightly tilts her had as though saying, "Yup, I've been decorating..or at least attempting to." The gesture lunges him into yet another tidal wave of emotion. All he wants to do is rip off her clothes and fly from wall to wall with her but he doesn't do that. Tonight he was going to rediscover Olivia. Every inch of her body he would conquer. He wanted to relish how taut she'd feel as he slid into her. How she'd wholly open up to him allowing him to roam and do as he pleased. Re-commit all of those sensations to memory. All the nectar produced he'd indulgently taste. He longed to hear the variations in her sweet voice when he touched her there, stroked her there and licked her everywhere. He was going to make her simultaneously scream and whisper his name a thousand times. Every inhibition revealed he'd deftly expunge. He was going to make her heart beat faster and slower at the same time. She would know that running was never to be an option. Ever. That she was his. He was hers. That by that fact alone, they were bound in marriage. Not by some piece of paper, but by the transcendent spirits that would that night unite their souls with serenity.
By the desirous look in his eye as he studies the bed, Olivia thinks she already knows what's happening. With unbridled enthusiasm, she steers his hand to her breast, granting his thoughts permission to exploit. He placidly unbuttons her silk blouse, taking all of her in, not only with his shameless eyes but also with his nimble hands. Maintaining contact with his eyes, she begins work on his belt and successfully unbuckles. To the hardwood floors the pants tumble, along with his age-appropriate blue boxers. Olivia gapes down and stifles a gasp. Roles reversed, like a puppet to its master she is duty-bound to touch it. Still nothing had changed. His response to her is far from mild. His face contorting, he unclasps her bra and plays with her firm nipple. His lips throbbing to taste her, he lunges for her mouth and nibbles on her luscious lower lip. She involuntarily emits a delightful moan. The sensation of her warm tongue intermingling with his as she continues to fondle him sends shivers down his spine. In a frenzied state he drives her towards the bed. His resolve crumbling, Fitz hastily takes off her jeans. He can't control himself. He needs her. NOW. The harangue can wait. As he's on his way down to get rid of her pesky panties, he glimpses Olivia's fervent countenance. She needs him just as much as he needs her. And in that moment he remembers what he has to do. It takes all of his will-power not to just tear off the panties anyway. But he couldn't rush this. Tonight was too important to forsake for an ephemeral moment of gratification. While these thoughts are running through his head, Olivia is lying there confused. She doesn't understand why he's stopped. She pulls him to her and frantically does away with his sweater. Nonetheless, Fitz impedes her wayward hands and instead clinches them above her head onto the comfortable pillow. His eyes twinkle making Olivia realize that she had it all wrong. Comprehending what he has in store, she throws her head back giving him free reign to rule her being. Fitz kisses her face and neck on his way down to her unconstrained breasts. Cupping one in his hand, he sucks the other with his full-mouth. He deepens the act as though in her breasts lay the antidote for all of their misery. For the first time that night, tears roll down her beautiful face. The more vulnerable she becomes, the more beautiful she gets, and the more Fitz plows for that antidote. Olivia fixates on the amazing sky-light and feels the intensity of the stars beyond surveying them; exulting in solidarity with the ululating nocturnals. Fitz continues his trek down her body making sure to leave no inch untouched. He flings her legs over his head and tongues every indentation on her inner thighs. Olivia convulses, inwardly cursing him, pleading that the torture stop soon. But it doesn't. Fitz carries on taunting & teasing her, brushing his lips against her center but never long enough to sate her. Her panties now saturated, even the resolute Fitz can't contain himself any longer. He glides them off over his head, unabashedly taking a whiff. Without missing a beat, his fingers get to work; up and down, back & forth, all shapes in motion as Olivia's muddled brain can now see clearly the glow of the stars gawking at them. Her last vision of the ensuing 20 minutes would be her beloved's beautiful head of curls and mischievous little wink..