Thanks to vitalinae on Tumblr for the prompt. And thanks to you all for your lovely BMD reviews.


After All This Time

After all this time:

She still finds beauty in their silences

In stillness

In the afterglow.

They've been chaotic for years: on and off again, over and over; hard words and bodies and so much longing it used to hurt.

Tears. Chest ache. Soul ache.

Now, their only chaos is outside the White House. (Oh, and the moments when they're coming together and the world is falling apart. Chaos in their blood; tidal waves of ecstasy.)

This time it's a Tuesday afternoon and he should be in meetings but he's canceled, and she wants to tell him off because he's the President of the United States - but she doesn't.

Because he's just Fitz, really. And he's hers.

At last.

She returns from the bathroom to find he's in the exact same position she left him: sprawled on his front, naked. And everything is so quiet. She can't even hear him breathing; wonders if he's asleep already. They've exhausted each other every day since she moved in two weeks ago. Tried to make up for time lost but they won't ever be able to, because they'll never get enough of each other. She'll never not want to kiss him, to be in his arms and feel all the ways his body changes as she turns him on. She'll never get used to the fireworks that burst to life between his mouth and her skin, nor the way he stretches her, nor the look on his face as he watches her right at the end.

Now, she watches him from the foot of the bed. She's calm, her heart rate almost back to normal. He's calm too.

And beautiful.

His feet, his calves and thighs; his gorgeous butt which she always wants to squeeze. The strong muscles along his spine, around his shoulders. Arms which have always made her feel safe; hands which know every inch of her. Head turned to the right, curls a mess (her fault) and his ear still red (also her fault).

And then his face: the most handsome she's ever known; the only one she's ever known so intimately. How its architecture changes when he smiles or frowns, when he's thinking or wanting her, or thinking about wanting her. The light in his eyes when he sees the light in hers - those moments when they're most happy, most in love.

And looking at him makes her want to touch him - no, she needs to. She craves him constantly. He's changed everything about her, including the very chemistry of her brain. She's addicted.

She climbs onto the bed; climbs up his body, running her palms along his skin as she goes. He stirs and she smiles as she settles on his back, letting his warmth seep into her - another way their souls seek to connect.

He doesn't open his eyes, but she can hear so much tenderness in his voice when he murmurs, "Hi."

Her heart swells. "Hi."

And then, as her fingers brush through his hair and her other hand covers his: "I love you."

She used to find it hard to say, for so many reasons. But in the peace of this room, of this heavenly, post-coital bubble where they spend so much of their time, it's easy. Loving this man is so easy. How did it ever take them so long to end up here?

"How are you?" she asks softly, kissing the ridge of his shoulder blade. She breathes in his skin, the scent of him and her and them. Her favorite.

"Mm," he grumbles, and it reverberates through his ribcage into hers. He squeezes her fingers in the spaces between his. "Tired."

She shuffles higher; presses her lips into his neck, rubs her nose against his ear. "Are you… complaining?" she whispers cutely.

He smiles. "God no."

She can't stop herself grinning in return, kissing her way along his cheek to the corner of his mouth. He starts to turn, wanting more; ends up on his back with her on top of him. Making out like crazy. Never-ending passion.

"Livvie," he sighs eventually. Looks into her eyes and she falls all over again. "I am so in love with you."

She shrugs, feigning nonchalance, like it's no big deal. "I know."

He laughs. Cups her cheek in his palm. Seconds pass and it starts to feel like a whole minute, as he studies her and she stops feeling playful. This is deadly serious.

It's the biggest deal in the world.

"You are so beautiful," he says.

"So are you."

He shifts his hips. "I want you again."

"Already?"

His lips curve. "This is madness."

She giggles. Kisses him until she can't breathe. Lets chaos reign again.

And afterwards - stillness once more. Utter tranquility. Two lovers so entwined they're almost one.

And then yawns. Lazy kisses. Well-earned sleep.


The cycle repeats; the afterglow constant.

And she is so happy she could burst.

After all this time.