"When, when we came home
Worn to the bones
I told myself, "this could get rough"
And when, when I was off, which happened a lot
You came to me and said, "that's enough"

Oh I know that this love is pain
But we can't cut it from out these veins, no

So I'll hit the lights and you lock the doors
We ain't leaving this room 'til we bust the mold
Don't walk away, don't roll your eyes
They say love is pain, well darling, let's hurt tonight"

Olivia was seething at him.

Again.

By Fitz's estimation, he had about thirty seconds before she stopped seething and started yelling. Just enough time to get comfortable, he thought, letting his long, powerful frame stretch out in the cozy lounger. He rolled up his sleeves and nursed a glass of his favorite whiskey.

It was dark on the Truman balcony, but the sky was clear, and the whole of the South Lawn extended before him...behind Olivia, her back to the banister...past centuries-old oak trees and the quietly flowing fountain, to the Washington Monument in the distance. He took another sip and let his eyes drift closed, shutting out her look of agitation to savor the relative peace before she ruined it.

"Well?" she snapped.

Twenty seconds, he mused. I'm getting rusty.

He knew better than to keep his eyes closed, but if he had to endure another lecture, he was definitely going to enjoy the view...and since she was obstructing the one he'd been waiting all day to see, he was content to admire the one made of delicate bone and five feet, four inches of flawless golden brown skin.

"Fitz!"

He didn't feel the least bit guilty for checking her out. She'd shed her capelet an hour ago, and her designer suit of armor hugged the soft curves of her body just enough to carve an enticing silhouette against the backdrop of midnight blue. By the time he met her eyes, he was sure she wanted to slap him. Good.

He deliberately sipped again. "Yes?"

"You shut me out! I should have been in there, not waiting around in Abby's office like some-some intern!"

"No."

"And why not?" she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're brilliant, Olivia. It's one of the things that made me fall in love with you."

She coughed, but recovered quickly. She knew where this was going. "Don't be condescending."

"So you know very well that your presence in that briefing would have been a conflict of interest. For a number of reasons."

"If Cyrus killed Senator Vargas-and I know he did-then…"

"Then it's a matter for the FBI to handle. And they are."

Olivia scoffed and looked away.

He zeroed in on her restless right leg. It was one of her only tells-and rare at that. Ordinarily, he'd be merciful, pretend not to notice her false bravado. But "ordinarily" ended when the last of the White House staff had cleared the Yellow Oval Room after their briefing and gone home to their families. After hours, the expansive second floor was the residence. There wasn't another soul on it but the two of them-not a housekeeper, an intern, or a single SSA. No audience. No need to put on airs.

He sipped again to empty the glass, swallowing the last of his couth down with the whiskey. "She's handling it, and you don't like it."

Her eyes went straight to his crotch, and then she sucked in a quick breath and looked away again. "Excuse me?"

His lips twitched. "Nice touch-that righteous indignation thing you just did. But that's not what I meant."

Her glare was unwavering as he stood to his full height, seeming to tower over her even from four feet away. "I don't know what you're implyi-"

"You're jealous."

"I am not-"

She gasped, the words lodged in her throat as she realized, too late, that he was advancing on her. Slowly, like a skilled predator. He hardly appeared to move at all, but then he was right in front of her-a wall of well-formed muscle and bone-and she had to tilt her head back to look up into his face. She tried to retreat farther, but her back was already pressed to the rail, her arms falling away so that her hands could grip the cold iron.

"You're accustomed to coming and going as you please," he continued. "Stomping around, barking orders-You really like getting in my face. As if you've forgotten who I am."

Her pulse spiked. The hairs on her neck strained like they too wanted to run away-leap from the balcony.

He'd stalked her many times before, but it had been different. Much different. Delicious foreplay. Mounting anticipation until the moment she'd "give in" to his power and let him control her, body and soul.

Her eyes widened as she realized that he was deliberately intimidating her. Asserting his authority in a way she'd seen him do countless times over the years-with other people. But never with her. Never, ever with her.

Her face grew hot with the sting of pain and humiliation. She felt her eyes begin to water and looked past him to break eye contact-with great effort. He was practically stepping on her toes.

"Good for you," she said, nodding sullenly, "putting me in my place."

"Oh, I'm just getting started."

"Great."

"The only people I care to have in my face above the age of five," he went on, "are my dentist, the nice lady who makes my dark circles go away for TV spots…" He paused and stared at her, willing her to look at him again.

She fought it. Her body tensed even more, if that was possible, with the effort to not look at him. But raw power had a natural propensity to draw people in. And there was no one more powerful than the President of the United States.

She shook her head, as if in disbelief, as her eyes betrayed her to look at him again.

"...and my lover. But you're not her anymore."

She gasped, but she couldn't tear her eyes away this time, and they welled up in clear view of his unrelenting gaze. She wanted to lash out at him-say something clever, something mean. But she was too hurt. You're not her anymore.

She froze again as he lifted his hand to her face, gliding the back of his knuckles along the smooth skin of her cheek. Her breath sputtered as her eyes closed. Damn her stupid, treacherous body for wanting him to touch her. For wanting to be her again, just for a little while.

His voice was so deep and soothing when he spoke again that she almost didn't hear what he said. "You are such a brat."

Her eyes snapped open and she swatted his hand away. "A brat? Where do you get off?"

"The same place you did when you stormed onto my balcony like a woman scorned."

"I did not-"

"Angry. Looking for a fight."

She tried to go around him-to leave, but he hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him easily. Her mind blanked. "What are you-?"

"If you're hurting, Olivia, take a look in the mirror."

"Ooohhh, that's good! What do I owe you for this session, Doctor?"

"Go ahead and mock. That's what you do. Try and diminish me to make yourself feel less empty inside."

"Oh for God's sake-" She stopped struggling. It was no use. "Go on. Lay into me some more if it makes you feel better."

Brat. But his expression softened. "The me you mocked-the me that is idealistic and optimistic-is the same me you think you don't deserve. You convinced yourself-and me-that I was ineffectual."

She went rigid in his hold, but she didn't avert her eyes again. She was trapped by his earnestness. Lulled by his voice.

"Somewhere along the way, someone got to you deeper than I did. Made you think those things were weak. Not worthy of the great Olivia Pope. Because, I suspect, it's easier than thinking it's you who isn't worthy."

He watched half a dozen emotions play across her beautiful face in the few seconds after he stopped speaking. Stunned her into silence.

"I tried not to care," he murmured, feeling things he'd repressed for months start to resurface-things he'd swallowed down every time she showed up to the White House like she hadn't ripped his heart out and buried it there. "I tried fighting it out. I tried fucking it out...I've just accepted that I'll never stop loving you."

She was trembling in his embrace, and a tiny whimper escaped her parted lips at his confession. Her eyes were huge and glassy, but no tears fell. Good. Because he couldn't kiss her if she was crying.

She felt his arm tighten around her waist and watched his gaze fall to her mouth. She tensed with a new kind of awareness-that her body was flush against the length of his, that she could practically taste his spicy scent from this close, that the heat from his body was quickly warming her through…and that her heart was fluttering around in her chest in such a frenzy that her breaths came short.

He saw and felt it all, and when he looked at her again, the intent in his eyes made her moan. Hers drifted shut at the same time his mouth touched hers.

It was so soft, his lips just brushing hers. He repeated the caress over and over, slanting his mouth along hers from each corner, and then capturing her full bottom lip between his teeth for a playful pull. He took his time, teasing her lips, the tip of his tongue seeking entry until she gasped, and he slipped inside.

His hands came up to cradle the sides of her face as his mouth melded to hers, applying more pressure with his tongue as it glided over hers and under, swirling and licking, advancing...retreating.

She was vaguely aware of him holding back, as if he were wary of taking things too far, so she melted into him, bringing her palms gently to rest against his chest.

He grew stiff, wondering if she was going to push him away. But she slowly slid her hands lower, down across the taut planes of his abdomen, and then around his waist, letting her fingers move possessively over his back. He moaned in response, almost growling, dragging his mouth along her jaw to the sensitive spot beneath her ear…

"I...wanted you," he breathed against her softly scented skin.

She shivered as the cool evening air hit the wetness he left on her skin, as his hands trailed over her shoulders, unbuttoning the top buttons of her blouse and tugging it open. She drew in a quick breath as he kissed her collarbone.

"W-what?" she sighed, trying to hold onto her faculties.

It was dizzying. His hands, his mouth, the hard line of him pressed against her. He gasped as she shifted her thigh between his legs, rubbing it against his growing erection.

His head dropped to her shoulder, his words muffled against her throat. "I was desperate, trying to forget you. But every time-when we'd finish-I just felt worse. Because it wasn't you. They couldn't even come close to you."

Her heart thudded in her rib cage and then dropped into her stomach. "Fitz," she whimpered. "Don't. I can't-" She moved her head away.

"You left me," he groaned, his hands sliding over her back...down and down, until his fingers grazed her hips, and his palms moved firmly across her ass. "I needed you, and you weren't there."

She shrugged her shoulder to coax his head back up. His blue eyes were dark with the same emotion that made his voice husky and broken. "I-I don't know if I can," she stuttered. "I can't make any promises. "

"I know," he said softly, holding her chin in his hand. His breath shuddered against her cheek as his thumb trailed along her bottom lip. "And I don't know if I want you to."

Her eyes widened in despair. She hadn't anticipated that response. "What are you saying?"

"Don't worry," he said with a sad smile. "I'm not resisting you." He dropped another kiss on her lips, and then pressed her lower body to him firmly, reminding her of his obvious need. "I can't."

She gasped again, clutching his shoulders. "I know," she couldn't resist teasing him. She wanted him to lighten up. He was so intense. They both were. It was partly why they were so good together-and why she always ran away. But she didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to think at all. "Make love to me, Fitz."

He stared into her face, feeling the wild pace of her heart as it beat against his chest. She was soft and warm and vibrating with need. It was all he'd dreamed of for months. And now she was begging for it. Almost. He bent his head to press his lips to her throat.

"Say please," he murmured, letting the husky words hum at her pulse.

Olivia groaned as the familiar heat enveloped her, her whole body throbbing with an intensity that was pure pain. She felt the rush of slick wetness as it seeped from her core to wet her panties. Her breasts ached and swelled, her nipples stiff with desire. She rubbed them against his chest and grinded against him for relief.

Fitz moaned. "Olivia-"

"Please," she sighed.

His mouth was on hers again before she could draw another breath. He spread his hands beneath her hips, lifting her easily into his arms as she wrapped her legs around him, her thighs hugging his waist. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sliding her fingers into his hair.

His long strides took them through the balcony door and through the Yellow Oval Room, through the residential living room and on, to the master bedroom. Olivia gasped, snatching her face away and yanking him by a chunk of hair.

He cursed and halted in the doorway, staring at her in a haze of arousal and confusion. But when he saw the myriad of emotions on her face, the defiant challenge in her gaze, he understood. And she was right, of course. The room bore the horrible memory of their last bitter fight. Even now, they could hear their angry voices echoing off the walls, sinking into their hearts. It was as though the very air circulating from the space was toxic-to make no mention of the other women who'd graced the four-postered bed.

He quickly turned on his heel and headed for the Lincoln Bedroom.

Fitz nudged the light on with his shoulder, not wanting to take his arm from around her for such a menial task. His mouth was warm and gentle, his softly stroking tongue moving provocatively inside of hers. She moaned, pressing against him harder, knowing full well he was demonstrating the way he wanted to move within her body. She sucked his tongue and he cursed into her mouth, swatting her ass as he set her down in front of the bed.

He stripped her himself, enjoying the opportunity to kiss and caress her wherever new flesh was exposed. When she was naked, his eyes feasted on her with hungry intensity. Her breasts were small, high and perfectly formed. Her nipples were stiff peaks, slick and glistening from his attentive mouth. The silence was electric. A compulsive hunger vibrated like a tangible thing between them.

"I've dreamt of this," he said softly. "Coming home to you after a long day, date night out there on the balcony, and then slowly making love to you, because we have all the time in the world and we don't have to hide anymore."

He released his breath in a long, sighing groan, as if regret had wrapped itself around his words and was choking the life from them.

"Fitz," she whispered, stroking his cheek as tears wet her own. "I know it doesn't mean anything right now, and I know you don't-you don't believe me, but I wanted that too. Part of me still wants that. But I wasn't built for this, for being second fiddle-"

"Sshhh," he soothed, drawing her close to him with controlled power. "I know. And I hate that I made you feel that way, Livvie. I live with it every day. I just wanted to show you how good we could be together. Really together. I want to show you now."

He took her mouth again with slow, drugging intensity. Weeks and months melted away and she was back, back where her body told her she belonged, back where the universe was drowned out by the erratic pounding of her heart and the rush of hot blood in her veins.

She could hardly breathe but she didn't care. He was a god with that mouth, devouring her until she was on the brink of madness. Her fingers dug deep into the springy depths of his hair, tracing the shape of his head, luxuriating in the thick curls, holding him to her.

"Livvie," he breathed, pulling her hands away a moment. "Undress me."

She eagerly obeyed, dragging passion-glazed eyes over the tanned breadth of his muscular chest. A tangle of coarse dark curls clung to his skin, arrowing down to a soft furrow over his flat, hard stomach.

She trailed her fingers over him slowly, delighting in the way he sucked in his breath and jerked beneath her touch. His buckle released with a clink, and his pants whispered to the floor. She was on her knees before he could step out of his boxers, stroking him with her hand until he doubled over with an agonized groan, and taking him into her mouth.

The room spun for a moment and Fitz gripped her hair to ground himself. Her mouth was so soft, so warm and wet as it closed around him. She relaxed her throat and tilted her head back a little, moaning as she felt him grow bigger in her mouth.

"Shit! Livvie…"

"Hmm?" she hummed deliberately in response.

He jerked at the sensation, closing his eyes as he fucked her mouth in a slow rhythm. She guided his hips, controlling the motion as she licked the underside of his cock, pulling back to graze him lightly with her teeth and nip the tip with her lips.

She felt it when he started to come, felt his ass clench, his muscles tense, heard him grunt from low in his gut. She helped him along, massaging his balls and moaning around the hard length of him. Her clit swelled with her own excitement from the sounds he was making, and she lowered her fingers to apply pressure just as his hands tightened in her hair.

"Oh G-God," he panted, jerking off-rhythm as warm spurts of his release coated her mouth.

She dragged her mouth from him slowly, taking care to leave nothing behind, and let him pull her to her feet. She grinned as she looked into his sex-drunk face, his mouth slack and panting.

"Was that in your dream?" she teased.

He groaned, picking her up and tossing her onto the bed. "Among other things," he said, climbing over her and sucking a breast into his mouth.

She moaned as his long fingers cupped her below, shuddered against him as his thumb circled her clit in tight circles. He kissed a wet trail across her chest and down over her soft, flat tummy, stopping to savor her scent before licking the wetness from between her thighs.

Her hands were gripping his hair again, and she made desperate sounds, her hips arching. He looked up at her flushed face, her brow creased with anticipation, and stroked her inner thigh.

"So beautiful, Livvie," he whispered. "All of you."

He lowered his head and her lashes fluttered closed. His tongue sank inside of her and her toes curled, her stomach muscles contracting at the contact.

She gasped, moving her hips desperately, trying to get away. He growled, slipping his hands beneath her high, round ass and dragging her to him. Like the rest of her, it was perfectly formed, just enough to fill his hands and hold her tight to his mouth.

He squeezed the rounded cheeks again and again as she rocked against him, fucking her with his tongue as his expert fingers tugged and rubbed her clit. She made unintelligible sounds at a feverish pitch, and it felt like she was going to rip his hair out, but he didn't care.

Because she was beginning to lose her rhythm, her thighs locking his head in place as fresh wetness began to coat his face.

"F-Fitz, I'm-"

"Mmmm," he hummed against her knowingly, deliberately doing to her what she'd done to him just moments before.

He drew her clit between his lips for a long suckle, rolling his lips inward and applying gentle pressure until she clawed at his scalp, riding his face in a desperate rhythm. After endless, shuddering seconds, she finally released his poor abused strands, falling limply onto her back as he gave her one final, lingering lick.

"Oh my God," she all but cried as he climbed over her carefully. "Your mouth," she panted, arching her back to push her breast into his massaging palm. "I missed your mouth."

He lifted his head from where he was trailing kisses along her shoulder and stilled his hand.

"Oh!" she quipped when she saw the look of hurt on his face. "Don't act like you weren't thinking the same thing about me."

His lips twitched. "The thought may have crossed my mind, but let's face it, I'm the more romantic one of the two of us."

She reached down between them to take his erection into her hands, squeezing him gently. He buckled against her with a tortured groan. "I missed this too," she sighed, lining him up to her slick entrance. And then she grinned. "And your eyes."

He would have chuckled, but his need for her was becoming painful, and her body was so sweet and inviting. He silenced her flippant mouth with his as he pressed into her slowly.

They moaned together as he flexed his hips and pressed again, further this time, causing her thighs to tremble and fall apart. Her hands slid over his back to grab his ass, encouraging him to thrust harder. She squeezed him with her inner muscles, holding the sensual grip longer each time, stroking his back as he trembled and groaned.

His pace became more urgent and he fell to his forearms as pleasure gripped his body.

"I'm sorry," he moaned, aware that he was about to come before her. "You feel so good, Livvie."

"Ssshh," she whispered, her turn to assuage his uncertainty. "Let go."

She pushed her breasts firmly to his chest, rocking her hips to meet his frantic thrusts, pressing kisses to his temples, his cheeks, his nose. He came with a violent shudder, biting down on the soft lobe of her ear.

"A-aaahhh," he groaned, rolling off of her and collapsing at her side.

She maneuvered her lithe body on top of his, enjoying the feel of his heaving chest beneath her and his hairy thighs against her smooth ones. When he saw her smugly satisfied face, he grinned.

"I'm flattered," she quipped, the corners of her mouth twitching. "But you owe me another orgasm."

His heart rate tripled at her sexy challenge, and he caressed the backs of her thighs until his hands rested on her ass. "Well," he said in a peculiar tone. "I never had the chance to give you a proper tour of this floor."

Her fine brows drew together in silent question as a slender finger traced along his sexy bottom lip. He nipped the tip gently and sucked the offending digit into his mouth, deliberately prolonging his answer to heighten her anticipation. And then he gave her a wide, salacious grin.

"There are three more bedrooms on this floor."