A/N: Yes this is an update!

Thank you to everyone who's given me their condolences regarding my mother. Much appreciated and accepted. Here's my way to say thank you.

This whole chapter is rated M (yes, y'all finally got your wish!).

Merry Christmas and 'see' you all next year.

The small table near her front door that holds her keys and mail becomes a casualty of their passion. They knock it over with little to no acknowledgement before running into her bookshelf. Various titles fall to the floor as they fumble their way around the room. Olivia pulls at his belt and he nips at her neck, his large hands palming her ass and soliciting a soft moan from her swollen lips. They trip over each other, stumble into everything on their way to the couch, including the lamp that rests on a side table; it falls to the floor with a crash, shattering. Olivia lands on her back, Fitz falling on top of her. She giggles, heat creeping up her cheeks before his lips smash against her once more. His hands slide up her thighs, bunching up her skirt as he settles in between her legs and her hands find his hair, tugging on his curls. When he hisses against her mouth at the pull, she smiles against his lips.

God, he's everything she's ever imagined so far; overwhelming, rough, gentle, and passionate. It's been so long since her body has responded so readily to another's - if ever. Her list of past lovers is long, but the list of satisfied experiences from them is short. Most seemed intent on jumping straight to penetration. But not Fitz, while they're both so damn eager he seems to be enjoying just touching her.

His teeth tug at her bottom lip, biting down; her eyes pop open at the mix of pleasure and pain. Both of his hands palm her breasts through the nylon of her top and she arches into his touch, breathing heavily. He's giving her no space at all as he bends her body to his will. His tongue plunges into her mouth and she groans, fingers biting into the unyielding muscles of his strong shoulders. He's a contradiction of textures hovering above her. His lips are soft, but his kiss is hard and demanding; there's a slight stubble to his chin, barely noticeable, but itchy against her mouth nonetheless; his palms are smooth as they run across the bit of her belly that's exposed, but his hips...lord she just might die from the delicious pressure they're exerting on her. She can't breathe as he presses her into the couch. Instinctively her legs try to wrap around his waist, but she only succeeds in getting the left one up, her thigh dangling over his hip, her heel digging into his thigh. Her skirt has ridden up and the only thing between them and his twitching arousal is the fabric of his pants and her increasingly wet silk underwear. He sucks on her tongue and she moans into his mouth; if they keep this up she's going to come. Right here, like this.

"Fitz…" It's the first words she's managed to struggle out, the first sound to fill the room outside of her moans. "Want you...inside of me." She's breathless, sinking, falling, plunging into the darkness and over the edge; carried by nothing and no one, only him.

Her heart beats hard against her chest, pounding so hard that it blocks out all other sounds besides his ragged breath. It's just them in this moment; the worlds shrank down to what little space exists between them.

His fingers reach for the band of her underwear, her breath hitches in anticipation. This moment has been a long time coming, a long time in progress.

"Livvie…" he growls against her mouth. This is it. This is…

Over.

Her front door bangs open and before she even knows what's going on and can even assess the situation, the warmth of Fitz's body disappears. Again, in the few short months they've been doing this thing together, he's on the floor with Huck's knee in his back.

Fuck!

"HUCK! GET OFF OF HIM! STOP, NOW!" She demands, jumping to her feet and shoving at Huck's shoulders. It's stupid to attack a man with PTSD but she doesn't know any other way to get his attention. "GET OFF!"

Anger and frustration rolls off of her in large waves as Huck let's go. She rushes to Fitz's side, happy to see that he's in one piece. He's beat red and more than likely embarrassed as hell, but there's no blood on his face. His pants are still tinted, his erection clearly there, and Olivia helps him to his feet.
"You okay, baby?" she asks, touching his cheek.

Fitz throws her his signature lopsided grin, that damn Superman curl draped against his forehead. The rest of his hair sticks up in all directions and his belt buckle is undone. Her lipstick is smeared across his mouth, cheeks, and chin.

"I'm fine, Livvie. I promise. A little caught off guard, but fine." He reassures.

Olivia smooths down her skirt, and pulls down her top. The discomfort between her legs is stifling and it takes her a minute to catch her breathe before she rounds on Huck. He stands off to the side sheepishly and Olivia just sees red.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouts. "I gave you that key for emergencies! Not to use whenever you feel like it!"

"Your downstairs neighbor said she heard things breaking up here and I was worried that...that…."

"That what?"

"That he was hurting you. I knocked and I just heard you yell. I don't know. I... I'm sorry, Liv."

"I'd never," Fitz interjects.

"We were having sex, Huck." Olivia explains. Any inclination she has, to be embarrassed is smothered by her frustration at this entire situation.

"Oh." Huck looks visibly uncomfortable with this new piece of information and his cheeks tint pink.

"Damn it, Huck! Put your key on the kitchen counter and get out."

"I'm sorry, Liv."

"OUT!"

Huck does as he's told and the door falls shut behind him.

Olivia sighs in frustration, gritting her teeth at the intrusion, and wanting to scream. She locks her door and puts the chain on, trying to calm down, but it's nearly impossible. She's so damn frustrated, worked up, and worried.

She turns to find Fitz fixing his belt and her stomach sinks. They crossed a line she's been painfully toeing for months tonight and he's probably about to walk away; take Huck's intrusion as divine intervention and go.

Stupid, stupid, Olivia.

"I'm so sorry, Fitz. I didn't expect - I didn't…" she starts, sheepish. "Please don't leave," she continues, unafraid to beg because she knows if he walks out tonight, this thing between them just might be over.

Please just stay.

/

She's fucking sin. It's written all over her face and etched into the curves of her body. The same body he'd had beneath his fingertips what now seemed like months ago not moments. She'd been so pliable, so responsive, and he'd been gone. So far over the edge with her that he didn't think he'd ever come out. But this is his chance, his lone shot to redeem himself. He needs to walk out and away from her tonight. He needs to stop thinking about the curve of her spine, the way her fingers splayed against his shoulders, how heavenly it felt to sink between her thighs. He's prayed to many altars, but the space between her legs has somehow felt the holiest.

"I can't have sex with you," he tells her and Olivia's face falls, disappointment contorts her delicate features.

"I understand. I'm sorry I jumped you. I guess it's good that Huck came in when he did," she agrees.

But she doesn't understand. He's thankful that Huck had intervened, too, though not for the reasons he seems she's assuming.

While he knows, he should walk away from this and from her if he wants to keep all his vows to God, he also knows that the last time he'd tried to walk away from her barely having known her, made him miserable. This time it just might kill him. She's intoxicating and he finds himself waiting for her, watching for her. Every emotion in his body is controlled by the look on her face.

"You didn't jump me, Liv...it was mutual," he corrected with a chuckle. "And you're not understanding me. I'm glad Huck came in, but not because I don't want you. I'm glad he came in because I don't want to dry hump you on a couch, Liv."

He crosses the distance between them, seizing her chin between his hands, his thumbs caress her lips and he smiles at the sparkle in her eyes. "I want to make love to you, in a bed. Lay you out beneath me, learn every inch of your body, touch every surface of exposed skin. I want to see you when you come, hold you while you shake."

She closes her eyes and shudders in his hold. "I want that, too, but Fitz your oath or vow or whatever...we shouldn't."

"God will forgive me, Livvie, but I won't forgive myself if I walk away from you tonight. I can't walk away from you, I've tried." He leans down to kiss her, his movements tentative at first, worry fluttering about in his belly that she'll refuse him. When she doesn't move, he deepens the kiss. Her mouth is warm, easily pliable, sweet, soft, and perfect. There's still a touch of gin on her tongue and he'd be perfectly content to drown in her right here. There's no guilt, no remorse as he surrenders to the pull between them and Olivia does the same.

She places her hands over his, tugs them from her cheeks, and leads him towards her bedroom. Fitz follows, their eyes never parting as their hands do once they reach her bedroom, and she turns the light on, bathing the room in a warm glow. The bed is perfectly made, the comforter cream just like the rest of the decor in her home. His eyes sweep around the room once before landing on her again.

She's perfect.

His fingers flex in her direction, but he stays put, content to just watch her. And what a sight she is. Olivia seizes the string around her neck that holds her top in place and tugs on it. The bow unravels and she turns away, slipping it over her head; she isn't wearing a bra. Her back is smooth, there's a mole just above the curve of her ass. He has the sudden urge to bite her, to consume her whole, but again stays put. Even as she slides her skirt down her hips and lets it falls to the floor and then steps out of it. A pair of silk underwear cover her plump behind, her thighs are thick and shapely. He's ready to pounce; eagerness propelling him forward. She hooks her fingers around the band of her underwear, ready to drag them down her legs, but Fitz stops her. He pulls her against his chest, runs a palm across her stomach, lets his fingers dance up her side, and sinks his teeth into her shoulder.

"You are so beautiful, Livvie."

"You sure you can stay the night?" she whispers, her head falling against his chest and he peeks over her shoulder to find her pert breasts heaving as she fights to breathe.

"You ask me that after you take off your clothes?" He chuckles lowly and spins her in place.

Her breasts smash against his chest and her hands runs over his ass. "I had to ask."

Fitz nods, understanding her concern, but there's no way he's leaving. Her lips find his and she draws him down onto the bed, rolling suggestively onto her back, their mouths still locked in a sensual dance. Propping himself up over her, Fitz deepens the kiss, his tongue dipping between her lips and tasting her. Sometimes he presses his mouth down hard on hers and then at other's he would retreat, forcing her to chase him. His left hand slips down her side, to her right breast, and he caresses the supple flesh, running a thumb over her nipple, and feeling their weight in his hand. He's rewarded with a soft moan, the amount of control he has over his body slipping as she whimpers against his mouth. Arousal raging, Fitz shifts his weight over her and uses his leg to gently spread hers to make room for him. His lips dip low, wrapping around her breast, kissing and sucking gently. She gasps beneath him, her slender fingers yanking on his curls, and her body writhing.

Outside thunder cracks the air and rain starts to pound against Olivia's bedroom window. Fitz's mouth abandons her breast, traveling up her clavicle and then coasting up her neck until he reaches her ear.

"I've been thinking about you like this all day, since we collided at the beach."

"I've been thinking about you like this since we met."

He laughs at her confession.

That's all the encouragement Fitz needs to hear. In a heartbeat, he pulls the white polo over his head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Olivia whimpers and whispers, arching her back and pressing against his bare chest. Her hands slip in between them and she makes quick work of his belt, shoving at his pants. He groans as her delicate hand brushes against his erection.

Pulling back slightly, Fitz drops his hands to the band of her underwear. His thick fingers pull the silk down her hips and over her supple thighs. "You're so beautiful, Livvie."

Though he can't see the red in her cheeks, he can tell she's blushing; he is too. Unceremoniously he drops her underwear to the floor and lets his pants and boxers follow suit. His hands drop to her smooth legs and he runs his fingers up their length, caressing every inch. Her breaths become ragged as he draws closer to her core. His eyes drift lazily over her body, admiring the dips and curves, noticing a small scar on her right side just above her hip. It's a mar on her perfect skin - an imperfection - and it couldn't be more beautiful.

"Appendectomy…" she breathes out as he traces it with a finger.

Her fingers find his shoulders, urging him upward and she whispers a sensuous invitation for him to enter her, her teeth grazing his earlobe.

Blood thumps heavily in Fitz's ears, and he gently refuses.

"Fitz…"

"Shhh," he murmurs, rolling off her and laying down beside her to stifle the temptation that comes with resting between her legs

What a fucking time to hit him that he hasn't done this in ten years.

"Are you changing your mind?" She asks, the disappointment in her voice heavy.

"No, not at all," he replies, his warm mouth finding her neck, relishing the sensitive skin there as she squirms ever so slightly. "It's just...I'm afraid if I go inside you right now, I'll…." he confesses.

"Oh. Oh," realization dawns in her tone. "We can stop, Fitz. We can."

"No. We can't just stop." He touches her intimately then, and a small cry of pleasure escapes her lips. Her bottom lip pops open and her face contorts, brows furrowing, and breasts heaving.

"That feel good?" Fitz asks hoarsely, his talented fingers teasing her. He keeps his eyes locked on her face, ignoring the doubt swirling in his own head. He's done this before. It's just been a while and from the way she's moving, he's still as capable a ever.

Olivia doesn't answer his question, but she doesn't need to either. He can tell from the rhythmic motion of her hips against his hand that he's making her feel good. He kisses her sweetly, fascinated by the quiet sensual noises she's making. She's velvet beneath his touch, his fingers effortlessly sliding around as he learns her pleasure points. Her back bucks when he curves his fingers, she nearly cries when he presses his thumb down on her clit.

She's so fucking perfect. And close.

Fitz removes his hand and settles back over her once again, his body quakes with need. Supporting his weight on one hand, he guides himself into her opening. Her hands fall to his arms, her nails cutting into his skin.

She lifts her legs to wrap around his waist, urging him in deeper; he slides in deep, so deep inside her that it stuns them both. She's on hot, wet, and so tight around him that he nearly explodes.

"Fitz…"

He swallows his name as it comes off her tongue, pressing his mouth against hers. He concentrates, giving himself a second until he feels confident enough to move without making a fool of himself.

Olivia hums into his mouth and slowly he begins to move. He thrusts in and out slowly, his face falling to her neck as he shifts focus to the delicious sensations raging throughout his body. Afraid of smothering her, he tries to shift his weight onto his elbows, but Olivia stops him. She locks her legs around his waist, her hands splay against his shoulders.

Above her, his entire body smolders, his nerve endings tingle, driving him toward fulfillment. He's not going to last much longer, but he's determined to give her what she needs.

"What do you need, Liv? What do you want?" He rasps hoarsely against her cheek, trying his hardest to find her sweet spot.

"Don't stop. Harder. There, oh god right there," she requests.

Fitz does his best to obey, pounding into her, bringing her hips off the bed. Her headboard bangs against the wall, the bed creaks beneath them, the comforter and fitted sheets pull away from the corners and he keeps going. Harder and harder until she screams his name, her nails rake down his back, and she trembles. Her body convulses beneath his, and her head thrashes around on the pillow.

"Livvie!" he grunts, her orgasm triggering his. Pinpricks of color flash in front of his eyes as he slams into her roughly, thrust deep inside, and holds himself there, spilling inside of her.

Outside the rain pounds against the window and lightning strikes brighten the night sky.

/

She's never had sex like this before.

It's the only thought she can manage as she rests her head against Fitz's chest. He runs a lazy hand up her spine and she shivers in his hold. They lay tucked together beneath her rumpled comforter, all the semantics settled (she's reassured him that she's on birth control and her thighs are no longer sticky). Her fingers gently stroke the fine hair on his stomach, his slick skin warm against her cheek.

The high he has her on right now is something she's never experienced. Her orgasm had been so intense and all-consuming that she'd felt tears prick her eyes, her teeth break skin, and her heart skip several beats.

The reaction her body had to his is beyond her comprehension. Olivia's never felt anything like this before; never been touched and teased, bent and filled the way he's just done. He'd asked her what she wanted and was anything but a selfish lover.

"A penny for your thoughts?" Fitz asks, her baritone voice shaking his stomach.

"They're worth much more than that," Olivia responds, placing a kiss against his chest. "Are you sure it's been ten years?"

Fitz chuckles and she doesn't have to look up to know that he's beat red. "I'm sure…"

"You could've fooled me. That was…incredible."

He strokes her frizzy curls, and Olivia swears she can feel his chest swell with pride. Usually she isn't one to stroke an ego post-coitus, but he more than earned her praise.

"Keep giving me compliments like this and we may never leave this bed again."

"Promise?" She questions sluggishly, the rise and fall of his chest lulling her to sleep, contradicting her words. "I might fall asleep on you."

"I might fall asleep in your bed."

They share a laugh as Olivia's eyes start to flutter closed.

"Rest," Fitz commands, pressing a tender kiss to forehead.

It dawns on her as a flash of lightning brightens her bedroom and then fades away. She's never had sex like this before because what they just did isn't sex. For the first time in her life, she's made love; she's had love made to her.

Her arm tightens around him and she nuzzles into his chest.

She's falling in love with Fitzgerald Grant.

/

They make love twice more before morning breaks. He pushes her body over the edge with his mouth, nimble fingers, and languid thrusts. When she wakes the next morning she's snug against his granite chest, both of his arms keeping her in place. There's a delicious ache between her legs and her muscles are tender and sore. She wonders what it'd take to get him into a warm shower with her later.

Careful not to jostle Fitz, she extricates herself from his hold, padding over to her dresser in search of clothes. Somewhere in the night her air conditioner had gone from comfortable to artic. She pulls on a pair of panties, an old t-shirt nightgown, and pulls her frizzy curls into a low ponytail. In the time it takes her to cross the room and pull on clothes, Fitz rolls over onto his stomach. Ugly red scratch marks dance up and down his back, popping against his bright skin; Olivia winces.

Oops.

She's just about to crawl back into bed and apologize for using him as a human scratching post by pressing kisses against skin when she hears a knock on her door. Making sure her nightgown is long enough to be considered modest, Olivia paddles out to her door. She expects to find an apologetic Huck on the other end of her peephole, but it isn't him.

Confusion crosses her face, her brows furrowing together and she undoes the locks on her door, silently praying Fitz is a sound sleeper, and her visitor won't be long.

She swings the door open, not even able to force a smile on her face. "Dad, what are you doing here?"