Brussels, 2:00 a.m.
Fitz is heading back to his hotel room after a "productive" night with a couple of the leaders of the freer world. He has had a few drinks and stumbles as he attempts to dial a number on the phone in his hand. With the phone to his ear he curses under his breath, "…damn". He dials again. Success. ring…. ring…. No answer. Upon his approach to his hotel room door he watches as the Secret Service agent turns towards the door in an attempt to do his usual perimeter sweep of the room, but before he can open the door Fitz stops him, giving him a stern look that says, 'I don't need you to do that'. The SSA understands and, like a good German Shepherd, stands guard outside the door. Once inside the room Fitz mutters to himself, "Where are you Liv?" He turns on the lights and almost drops his phone.
"Here", she responds. He is in shock, delighted, but shock none the less.
"Livvie…" he trails as he heads towards her. But his joy at seeing her is short lived once he sees the glare in her eyes. What did I do now, he wonders.
"Don't you Livvie me, Mister!"
With his usual boyish charm he insists on closing the distance between them.
"What now?" He teases. She scoffs.
"What now?" She repeats. "Not, 'what'; who. I can think of three who's to start with: that snooty French ambassador, the girl who hands you morning coffees, the sweaty Columbian…. an underground club?! Really, Fitz?"
"When in Belgium…," he quips. He is clearly more amused than she. Her tirade continues.
"We said well-educated, highly-qualified; not some cheap skirts…." He opens his mouth to protest but she doesn't permit him a moment. "One or two dates. Nobody likes to think their President is a whore." It takes everything in him not to laugh, so he plays along.
"Oh, c'mon! They're eating it up! I'm more relatable now. Have you seen my ratings lately? They all love me!" She just continues to gawk at him with exasperation. "Liv, you know there's only one woman I love," he says more seriously.
"Then start acting like it." To hell with space, he closes the distance but does not touch her. His towering figure looms over her, his warm breath on her skin sending shivers down her spine.
"Is the formidable Olivia Pope jealous of some cheap skirts?" He breathes playfully. She glares up at him with malice but then she does something that takes him by surprise. She grips his chin in her hands and kisses him. Rapidly. Ravenously. Breathing being of little consequence at the moment. Breaking the kiss before he has had his fill, she declares,
"You are mine. Need I remind you?" He stares at her beautiful face and luscious lips and wants nothing more than to taste them again. But she very deftly removes his belt and pulls him down to the bed. She straddles his body and pins his hands to the pillows above with her own petite ones. She knows he wants to taste her but instead she opts to torture him. Breathing heavily, she moves her body, leaving traces of her scent in her wake. He attempts to get up but she holds him firmly in place. Unbuttoning his shirt, she tortures hm some more with her piercing eyes that never leave his. Fitz is rocked to his core! How a single second could be augmented into something so timeless… that is every time with Olivia. She felt it too, and the heat rising within her compels her to kiss him. She had intended to satisfy only her own lust and hunger but found herself in desperate need to feed her soul. He is her sustenance. And Fitz, who is a man who believes you can not take pleasure without giving pleasure, unlaces the strings on her blouse to free her breasts and immediately takes one into his mouth reciprocating her sweet torture. She grips his head of curls and cries out,
"Don't stop." Her fingerprints cover his skin, a territorial marking. He fills himself in the moist, hot garden between her magical thighs; they tremble in each other's arms. Once her first climax washes over her she pleads,
"Again, please." With her naked body pressed against his own sweaty body, she declares,
"Don't think for a moment that just because you had me on my back that you can get away with any more of that tomfoolery." Fitz rolls his eyes and pulls her closer but instead she surprises him by getting up.
"Liv?" She already has most of her clothes on.
"I have to be in Montana early… 5:00 a.m. call… client." Not even the patented Fitzgerald-Grant-puppy-dog eyes could persuade her to stay. Liv walks towards him for a good-bye kiss,
"Behave!" She instructs. And just as stealthily as she had come, she was gone.
Fitz stared blankly into the void left by her previous presence. He finally understood why storms were named after people, and BOY did he love the feisty one called, Olivia Pope!
