AN: !


Chapter 11: Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang

The end of Fitz's week with Teddy was always the same. On Friday night, Fitz would gently remind his son that it was almost time to go back to Mellie's house. Teddy would whine and become mildly upset, but Fitz would redirect his energy into a father-son activity—playing a board game or going to Teddy's favorite restaurant for dinner—and before long Teddy would be having the time of his life. Saturday morning, before karate, Teddy would drag his feet and complain while Fitz helped him make sure that all of the things he needed to bring with him were ready to go. Saturday night they would have dinner together, and dinner would be immediately followed by the meltdown that occurred every single time Fitz had to bring Teddy back to his mother.

This week was no different. Teddy burst into tears before Fitz even got him into the car. He cried and screamed the entire way to Mellie's house. He repeatedly informed Fitz that Mellie was boring, and that he hated the babysitter who took care of him while Mellie was working. He begged to stay with Fitz for "just one more night." When that didn't work he attempted to call his mother names, which Fitz immediately put a stop to. Inside, Fitz's heart ached. He didn't like seeing his son so upset. He didn't like not being able to live with him full time—it was the only thing that stopped him from moving out much longer ago. But Mellie's house was not as bad as Teddy made it seem. Mellie, for all of her faults, was not a monster. She loved Teddy in her own way, and Fitz knew that she would never let him be miserable. Teddy just missed his dad, which was understandable. He would calm down after a few hours.

Needless to say, Fitz was never happy when he returned home without Teddy. This week, his foul mood was made even worse by the fact that Olivia, the one person aside from Teddy who he'd been dying to see all week, had cancelled their tentative plan to hang out.

He couldn't blame her. He fully understood what she was doing. She was married and the two of them never could seem to keep their hands off of each other. Even though Fitz's intentions were honorable—he really would be happy just to see her—inviting her to watch a movie at his place was risky. He recognized that there was potential for things between them to escalate quickly. They could go from watching the movie on opposite sides of the couch to making out in each other's arms in no time. She didn't want to put herself in that situation; Fitz couldn't help but respect that.

But that didn't make it any less disappointing.

He moped around his apartment all evening, picking up the messes that Teddy inevitably left behind and contemplating whether he should make an appearance at Stephen's lounge. But he didn't feel like being around anyone and he was sure that going back to that lounge would only drag up memories of being there with Olivia, so he opted to stay home. He finished straightening up the house, stripped down to his boxers, and flopped down on his couch to watch a Netflix marathon.

Which was exactly what he was doing when his cell phone rang at nine-thirty.

She was downstairs. He couldn't believe it. She had changed her mind and she was downstairs right at that very moment. His bad mood evaporated and Fitz smiled triumphantly as he leapt off the couch. So cancelling on him hadn't been easy for her, either. She must have been fighting herself for hours before deciding to come to him on a whim. He scrambled to find something appropriate to wear before bolting out of his apartment door and racing down the stairs to her two at a time.

She was beautiful, standing there waiting for him in another one of those long, figure-hugging winter coats she liked to wear. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks were flushed from cold, her hair fell in loose waves and blew around her shoulders with the wind. Fitz knew that he was smiling like a fool when he saw her, but he couldn't help himself. He was so happy that she'd come.

"Hi," she said with a big smile of her own.

"Hi," he said simply, resisting the urge to kiss her right then and there. He knew without asking that he needed to keep things platonic. She was clearly conflicted about coming to see him in the first place; the last thing he wanted to do was run her off. She fidgeted in front of him.

"Do you still want to watch a movie with me?"


He was wearing sweatpants.

It was one of the endless secret fantasies she harbored: Fitzgerald Grant standing before her, gloriously bare-chested, clad in only a pair of sweatpants that hung low enough on his hips to give her a glimpse of his pelvic bones. He would smell like heaven and she would be free to do whatever she pleased with him—touch him, tease him, taste him. And now, here he was looking comfortable and handsome as ever, barefoot in a pair of black sweats. It was a pity that he was also wearing a shirt, although it did fit snugly against his chest. Olivia could see the outline of the well-defined muscles that lay beneath, practically begging her to run her hands over them.

Her skin grew heated as she watched him move around his kitchen, putting popcorn in the microwave, pouring wine into two glasses. She shifted uncomfortably in her stool and her abdomen tensed as the familiar ache of desire resettled between her thighs. All of her nerves and doubts, the restless loneliness that had taken over her soul for days had vanished the moment she arrived. But the desire, her body's deep-seated longing to play along with his, that was still there. She was hungry for his touch, for his kiss, for the heady rush that came from physical intimacy with Fitz. She still yearned for the release that only he could give her.

He and those damn sweatpants were taunting her libido like no other.

Focus, Olivia. We're just friends.

"Here," he said, his blue eyes meeting hers as he walked toward her with a glass of wine in each hand. He set one down in front of her and gave her a knowing smile, "I think you're gonna like this."

"What kind is it?" she asked curiously, picking up the glass and swirling the dark red liquid around.

"Just try it," Fitz urged, taking a seat in the stool next to hers. Olivia took a tentative sip and her eyes widened in surprise.

"This is—"

"Your favorite," Fitz finished confidently, and Olivia's heart skipped a beat. She had mentioned her favorite wine to him just once the weekend before.

"I can't believe you remembered!" she exclaimed happily. Edison had probably heard her order wine at a restaurant hundreds of times by now, but she was certain that he still wouldn't know what kind she liked best. Not only had Fitz remembered, but he had most likely gone out of his way to get it for her. He was amazing. He really, really was.

He smiled at her, his blue eyes full of warmth, and Olivia resisted the urge to climb into his lap.

Just friends. She repeated the two words in her head like a mantra. She had come here to hang out, to watch a movie with him in a strictly platonic sense. Right?

She wasn't sure.

"I can't believe you got this!" she continued, ignoring the inappropriate thoughts that were trying to take over her mind, "You didn't even know that I was going to come over!"

"I figured I should have it on hand just in case," Fitz said with a shrug, taking a sip out of his own glass, "I'm not much of a wine guy myself but I admit that this is pretty good."

"It's delicious," Olivia raved happily, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Anything for a pretty girl," Fitz said. Olivia glanced sideways at him and their eyes met for an electric moment.

"So why did you change your mind about coming, anyway? Am I just that irresistible?" he asked teasingly. Olivia smirked and swatted him playfully on the shoulder.

"You wish, Fitz."

"Why'd you come, then?"

"I dunno. I was bored."

"That's it? You only came here because you realized you had nothing better to do? Ouch."

"No," Olivia said, rolling her eyes at his very unconvincing attempt to look and sound offended, "I just…I realized that I was overthinking a lot of things. I'm tired of thinking so much and worrying about what's going to happen next. I want to do what makes me happy now. It was never that I didn't want to hang out with you, it was just that…I thought I shouldn't…"

"I get it," Fitz interrupted with a smile as Olivia struggled to verbalize what had caused her change of heart without mentioning that her husband had sent her an unwanted fifteen thousand dollar bracelet in lieu of showing her just the slightest bit of affection, "I'm glad you decided to come."

"Me too," Olivia said as the microwave beeped.

"Popcorn's ready," Fitz hopped out of his stool. He rummaged through the cabinets for a second before he paused and turned back to Olivia, "You're not a popcorn hog, are you?"

"No," Olivia giggled, "Well, maybe a little. I really like popcorn. Sometimes I eat it for dinner."

Fitz studied her critically for a moment before turning back to the cabinets.

"Fine. We can share the bowl," he said heavily, as though he were making her a big concession, pulling a single plastic bowl off of its shelf as he spoke, "But if you eat it all too fast then you're getting your own bowl next time, missy. And we seriously need to have a talk about your dinner choices."

"What? I said sometimes. Not always. I usually cook but every now and then I just get lazy."

Fitz raised an eyebrow at her and, distracted, spilled a few kernels of popcorn on the counter.

"Ah! See what you did, Fitz," Olivia admonished playfully, going to stand next to him so that she could swipe a kernel off of the counter and pop it into her mouth, "Mmm, it's yummy."

"Yummy?" Fitz repeated, clearly amused by her word choice. His gaze lingered momentarily on her lips.

"Yeah. Yummy," she said with a shrug, "When you hang out with seven-year-olds all day sometimes you start to pick up on their lingo."

She snuck another kernel out of the bowl as Fitz brushed the ones he'd spilled off of the counter.

"I knew you were a hog," he lamented, and Olivia laughed. He grabbed the bowl and his glass of wine, gesturing for her to pick up her own, "Come on. Let's go to the living room. What movie do you want to watch, anyway?"

"What movies do you have?"

"Everything on Netflix, plus hard copies every animated children's film ever made."

"I think we should stick to Netflix."

"Okay, but you better not make me watch a chick flick."

"What? I love chick flicks!" Olivia said teasingly, following closely behind Fitz as they entered the living room.

"Livvy, you're killing me."

"Okay, fine. I like comedies too."

"A comedy sounds good. I've been meaning to rewatch The Hangover."

"I've actually never seen that."

"What?" Fitz exclaimed, appalled, "You've never seen The Hangover? Do you even have a TV in that big, fancy mansion of yours?"

"Yes," Olivia laughed, "I've just never seen it. All my friends saw it without me one time and I never got around to seeing it after that."

"Well, good. I'm glad you didn't see it with purple button down," Fitz said, and Olivia laughed harder at what was evidently Fitz's permanent moniker for Harrison, "That means you can see it with me."

"Okay."

Fitz sat down near the middle of the sofa and grabbed the remote. Olivia hesitated before choosing to sit about a foot away from him. He pressed a few buttons before turning his head to look at her, a smile still lingering on his face as the Netflix screen loaded.

"I really am glad you came," he said sincerely, and Olivia smiled too. His blue eyes were warm and she could feel the heat emanating from his body, tempting her to move closer and let it fully envelop her. She so badly wanted to snuggle up to Fitz, to lean on him and have his arm around her shoulders as they watched the movie. That would be perfect.

"Me too," she murmured, their eyes holding once more. He reached out and brushed an errant lock of hair off of her forehead as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his fingers grazing her cheek as he pulled them back.

Stop overthinking everything, Olivia.

She was done with fighting herself. Not breaking their gaze, Olivia slowly scooted closer to Fitz. He held out his arm invitingly, and without hesitation she made herself comfortable at his side, tucking her legs beneath her and letting her head rest near his shoulder as he reached behind them for the blanket that lay draped across the back of the sofa. He covered them both, and Olivia couldn't help but sink closer to him as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She sighed contentedly as he moved the popcorn bowl to balance between their laps.

"Comfy?" he asked.

"Very," Olivia admitted happily as Netflix finished loading.

"Good, 'cause the movie's starting…"


I love you.

The thought drifted into his head after he stuck a bag of popcorn in the microwave and turned to find Olivia looking perfectly at home in his kitchen, perched comfortably on one of his stools, a smile lingering on her lips as she watched him move. He poured her a glass of what he knew was her favorite wine—she'd mentioned it once the week before, and he'd rushed out to buy it as soon as he realized that there was a remote chance that she could possibly end up inside his apartment. He watched her take a sip and the delighted smile that made its way across her face had warmth blossoming in his chest. He sat on the stool next to hers and leaned close to her.

She was mesmerizing. He was drawn to every single thing about her. They talked while they waited for the popcorn to finish and he tried not to let himself be distracted by the cream-colored, wide-necked sweater she was wearing. It hugged her every curve, but the top was loose enough that one sleeve kept slipping down her arm, leaving her collarbones and the top of one beautiful shoulder exposed. Those were the same collarbones that had teased him all night long the previous weekend, the ones he had kissed and nibbled as her head fell back and her hands pulled him close in the front seat of his car. He wanted to kiss them again, wanted to tug the soft material of her sweater down to reveal parts of her body that he had only dreamed of.

Fitz loved every single thing about her; he was ready and willing to do anything to show her exactly how much. But he could see the conflict in her big, beautiful brown eyes and he knew that Olivia was fighting a war within herself. She wanted him but she was trying to hold back, to maintain their distance as friends. A very big part of Fitz knew that attempting to be friends with her was asinine, but he didn't want to push her. He wanted her to come to that conclusion on her own, to do so when her judgment was unclouded by alcohol or anger. He wanted her to be sure. He wouldn't be able to handle it if he pushed her and she later came to regret it. And so he was a perfect gentleman as he finished preparing her popcorn and escorted her from the kitchen to the living room.

The one thing he couldn't resist, however, was the expression on her face when she sat next to him on the sofa. There was a space between them that she clearly didn't like, and he instinctively held out his arm as she began to scoot closer to him, inviting her to curl up against him.

The hour that followed was pure torture. It felt like someone had lit a fire within his veins the second she touched him, and he immediately draped a blanket over them in order to hide the growing stiffness in his pants as she tucked her soft, sensuous curves against his chest. He tried to focus on the movie, but he could feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing and the scent of her perfume reminded him of every time he'd ever gotten the opportunity to bury his face in the column of her neck, of every time he'd ever gotten the opportunity to place wet, open-mouthed kisses on the beautiful skin there. His whole body was hot, flushed, and the slightest movement from her sent flashes of heat down his spine and coils of tension to his stomach. He forced himself to think the most unsexy thoughts he could come up with and managed to keep himself in control, but barely.

Olivia, meanwhile, seemed oblivious to his torment. She was engrossed in the movie, eating popcorn and finishing her wine in between fits of laughter. That was another thing that distracted him—the brilliant smile on her face, the way she seemed so content in his arms, the way she fit against him perfectly, like she was supposed to be there all the time. She was enjoying herself. She was happy. A spot of warmth permanently settled in Fitz's chest. He absolutely loved seeing her like this.

"Eyes on the T.V., Fitz. You're staring," she murmured about halfway through the movie, when Fitz found himself preoccupied—and not for the first time—with the way her lips wrapped around her glass as she took a small sip of wine. Her eyes never left the television screen as she set the glass back on the coffee table.

"I wasn't staring," Fitz said defensively, his cheeks burning slightly. Of course he had been staring; he had just thought she wouldn't notice.

"Oh yeah? What is it that you call it when you won't stop looking at me, then?" Olivia asked teasingly, smirking up at him. Her brown eyes were full of mirth and Fitz resisted the urge to capture her sassy little mouth with his own.

"Admiring," he informed her, his baritone sounding much deeper than usual even to his own ears. He watched as Olivia's smile slipped a little and her eyes darkened with desire. She liked that answer, he could tell.

"Eyes on the T.V., Livvy," he reminded her mischievously after she stared at him for a moment longer. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something and Fitz was prepared for another one of her impish remarks, but after a moment she closed her mouth, speechless, and merely frowned at him before resettling herself against him. Fitz chuckled when she laid her head against one of his pectorals and tugged on his arm so that it wrapped tighter around her waist, his hand resting above her hip.

"Comfy?" Fitz asked, amused by the way she maneuvered his body parts as though she had every right to do so. She does, he mused. Olivia Davis could do whatever she wanted to his body. He was powerless to deny her anything.

"Yes."

"Good."


She couldn't refocus on the movie. It was a miracle that she had been able to focus in the first place; every nerve ending in her body was alive and humming vibrantly with the way she was pressed so intimately against Fitz. His hand was wrapped around her slender waist, holding her close, and every now and then she felt his fingers twitch, like he might want to slide them up her torso to cup the curve of her breasts. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the rumbling in his chest as he laughed along with the movie. She could especially feel when his eyes were on her; they burned her every time she shifted against him, every time she leaned forward to take a sip of wine. She didn't have to look to know that his expression was full of desire.

It was unnerving. She called him out on it about an hour into the movie—he told her that he was admiring her in a tone that dripped with seduction and caused the strongest jolt of need she'd ever felt to rip through her stomach, to steal her breath away and leave her slightly dizzy, lightheaded, speechless. She tried to steady her breathing as she resettled herself against him, but the movement only reminded her that there was a hot, sticky liquid pooling between her thighs. She had no idea what happened for the next ten minutes of the movie; her mind was lost in a fantasy where Fitz flicked open the button on her jeans and dipped his fingers underneath her panties, rubbing and exploring the parts of her where she ached for him the most.

It was excruciating, to want him so badly and be so close to him while having to hold still and pretend to watch a movie. Olivia shifted again and clenched her thighs together, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure pulsing between them. She had never been this turned on before. It was almost painful.

The movie was almost over when she decided that she didn't want to wait any longer. Fuck propriety, fuck their so-called 'friendship,' fuck his marriage and her marriage and every single thing that stood between her and the man that she craved so desperately. She was more turned on than she had ever been and she was going to let it all go. She casually snuck a hand out and let it come to rest midway down his thigh, hidden by the blanket that covered the both of them. She wanted to see his reaction. He had to be just as turned on as she was. Maybe she could push him over the edge. Maybe she could get him to lose control, to seize her in his strong arms and pin her to the couch, to the floor, against the wall, wherever and fuck her until she could no longer remember her own name. The thought thrilled her beyond words.

He drew in a deep, ragged breath and she felt his entire body tense at her touch, but he didn't move or show any other outward sign that she was affecting him. She frowned.

Come on, Fitz.

She squeezed his thigh lightly, marveling at the fact that even his legs seemed to be made of pure, solid, muscle. This man was a Greek god. She wanted to explore him, to feel every inch of him, to worship his body with her hands, lips, and tongue the way he deserved to be treated. She wanted to ride him until he came apart inside her, until she could feel his hot seed coating her insides, just like it had the last time.

There are so many things I want to do to you.

The fingers at her waist clenched tightly, gripping the material of her sweater as she moved her hand upward, beginning a gentle massage of his quadriceps. She was getting so, impossibly close to the bulge in his pants. She didn't have to see it to know that it was there. She wondered what he would do if she touched it, fisted it, brought her lips to it and slid her tongue teasingly along the head of it before taking it fully into her mouth.

There is something seriously wrong with me. She had performed oral sex on a man before, of course, but she had never truly found it that appealing. It was never something that she wanted to do; only something she did out of obligation or because she wanted to make Edison happy. Until now. The thought of Fitz tensing beneath her, groaning with pleasure, his entire being at her mercy as she slid him in and out of her mouth, was a complete turn on. She would have to do it sometime.

But not now. She gasped, surprised and delighted when Fitz finally moved, the hand that was not around her waist reaching out and capturing her exploratory one, stilling it.

"Livvy," his voice was a thick growl, her name was a warning. She was playing with fire, tempting the devil, and it left her breathless.

She could feel his head tilted towards hers, his nose tickling the hair on her head, so she turned to look at him. Their eyes met and held, his gaze reflecting a mix of lust and torment and something else that she couldn't quite identify. He was at the edge of his self-control. She wanted to break it.

"Fitz," she murmured, lowering her gaze to his lips. She leaned in until they were centimeters apart, his breath mixing with hers on each exhale.

"You're supposed to be watching the movie," his voice was deep, husky, and it sent a shiver tingling town Olivia's spine. She cocked her head slightly.

"I know. I'm a bad girl."

She watched his eyes darken lustfully at her words, his usually blue irises now the color of storm clouds. She had seen that color before: as he dragged her by the hand into a secluded closet, when she deliberately teased him over a game of pool, after a steamy make-out session in the front of his car. He wanted her; there was no doubt about it.

What is he waiting for?

"Fitz," she murmured his name again after a moment of silence. She moved in closer, and her lips brushed against his with every word, "I'm tired of this movie."

"Yeah? What do you want to do instead?"

"I want you to—"

She didn't even get to finish her sentence before he leaned in and pressed his mouth firmly against hers, their lips fusing together in a hot, fiery kiss that sent every single one of Olivia's hormones into a frenzy.

"Is that what you want?" he asked, breaking his lips away from hers far too soon, leaving Olivia to gaze at him in wonder. She was already breathless, a hot flush blazing across her cheeks, the back of her neck, throughout her entire body. Her heart was racing. The room was spinning. She definitely, definitely wanted more of that kiss.

"Yes."


She was straddling him; her knees planted on either side of his hips, her pelvis level with his abdomen, her arms draped around his neck and his hands situated firmly on the backs of her thighs as she gazed down at him. She wasn't quite sure how she'd gotten there. One minute she was under his arm, kissing him ardently; the next she was in his lap. It was all a haze of lips and tongue and heat and pure, unadulterated want. She felt hot, wild, out of control. She was a tigress and Fitz, the man beneath her, he was her prey. He was what she wanted. And the way that he was looking up at her had her stomach tensing and quivering deliciously.

She never in her life felt as beautiful, as sexy, as wanted as she did when Fitz was looking at her like that, his blue eyes blazing with a potent mixture of need and desire and something else, something that she couldn't quite identify…adoration, maybe? It was nothing she'd ever seen before, nothing Edison had ever shown her, and it made her feel incredible; a warm, heady feeling unlike anything she'd ever felt blossomed in her chest and spread through her limbs, to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her toes. She marveled at the fact that only Fitz could make her feel this way. He was an amazing man. He really was.

"Remember when I told you that you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen?" Fitz asked after Olivia spent a moment just taking him in, her fingers frozen in place around his shoulders. There were a thousand sensations, a thousand emotions coursing through her, and she was trying to savor them all before she let herself get lost in them; before she let them drag her mind away from rationality and her body over a cliff with Fitz.

She nodded as he squeezed the backs of her thighs just below her bottom, the tips of his fingers so close to her aching heat that she gasped a little as the exquisite pressure there caused a powerful, soul-shaking throb. Of course she remembered when he'd told her that; she had replayed that moment over and over in her mind for years, trying to recapture that feeling—this feeling—on countless lonely nights without him.

"I meant it. You're beautiful, Olivia, inside and out," his bright blue gaze never wavered, "Don't ever change, okay? You're beautiful."

Olivia nodded, speechless, her chest constricting at the absolute conviction with which he spoke. Sometimes, with Edison, she wished that she were better: funnier, more adventurous, smarter, prettier. Sometimes she thought that maybe that was why she couldn't keep his attention; maybe she just wasn't good enough. But she didn't feel that way with Fitz: never with Fitz. He understood her. She held his attention no matter what she was doing, even if she was simply drinking wine from a glass. She got the sense that she fascinated him, which was good because he, in turn, fascinated her. There was nothing about him that she didn't find appealing, nothing that she didn't want to explore further—not physically, not mentally, not personally…

Focus, Olivia. This is just sex.

Olivia swallowed hard to banish the sudden lump in her throat before she cupped Fitz's face in her hands, lowering her lips to his so that she could kiss him with all of the emotion she felt.

Fitz responded to her kiss eagerly, unreservedly, his tongue slipping into her mouth and tangling erotically with hers, striking up a tempo that had Olivia's entire body trembling with need. It didn't take very long for their kiss to spiral out of control. His hands were restless, touching all of the places within his reach; the backs of her thighs, the curve of her knees, the smooth, flat planes of her stomach. Olivia let her fingers drag from his cheeks down his neck, across the hard, firm lines of his chest. Every bone in her body was screaming, begging for more. She couldn't get enough of him.

Acting purely on instinct, Olivia shifted until she sat on Fitz's lap. She sighed into his mouth as their bodies connected fully; their tongues still dueling fervently as his erection nestled tightly against her denim-clad core. His manhood against her sex ignited a fresh, furious wave of desire that poured through her like molten lava. Her face flushed, her breasts ached, her stomach tensed, and she couldn't help but to grind her hips once…twice…three times against him, the friction between them causing her walls to contract and spasm uncontrollably. She moaned and tore her lips away from his, needing to breathe, peppering kisses along his jawline instead. She heard him draw in a deep breath and felt his entire body stiffen when she reached the soft skin beneath his ear. Emboldened by his reaction, she licked and sucked the spot, taking his skin between her teeth and nibbling gently.

"You like that, Fitz?" she murmured, running her tongue along the shell of his ear. His labored, erratic breathing was the most erotic sound she'd ever heard. She whimpered when his fingers delved beneath the hemline of her sweater in response, ghosting across heated skin as they quickly made their way up to her sensitive breasts. They were heavy, tender, aching for his affection, and she wanted him to touch them, to rub them in his big, strong hands and brush his fingers against her nipples. She groaned in frustration when he toyed with the lace of her bra instead, his fingers maddeningly close and yet much too far away from where she really wanted them. It wasn't enough. She squirmed restlessly against him, overwhelmed by the sudden, imperative need to feel more of him, all of him.

"Oh, Livvy," the nickname that only he used for her sounded like pure, unadulterated sex dripping from his lips. Olivia claimed his mouth with hers once more, her tongue battling with his in a brief but passionate rush before she released him and leaned back slightly, her hands moving to cover his underneath her sweater.

"Take it off," she said confidently. Skin-to-skin contact was exactly what she wanted, what she craved, and she couldn't wait any longer. She was hot, her entire body felt like it had gone up in flames, and her clothing was far too tight. Her sweater was clingy, her bra was restrictive, her jeans were providing an unwanted barrier between him and her pulsing core. She wanted it gone, all of it, and she pressed upward on Fitz's hands to emphasize her point.

"Off," she insisted. He was looking at her through blue eyes brimming with desire, but still he hesitated.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly, his fingers drawing tantalizing patterns along the edge of her bra. Olivia nodded fervently as he continued, "Because I want you, Livvy. I want you more than anything, but I can…we can wait. If you don't want to go that far, we can…"

His voice trailed off and his fingers stopped moving when Olivia leaned forward, pressing her lips firmly against the newly discovered sensitive spot below his ear.

"Fitz," she purred, her voice the timbre of a woman on the prowl, of a woman who had set her sights on her prey and was ready to pounce, "I don't want to wait anymore. Take it off."


She was perfect. An angel. A goddess. A vixen. Sitting in his lap; long, beautiful legs curled on either side of him; hair messy and tumbling in waves around her shoulders; lips moist and swollen and completely, thoroughly kissed. Her chocolate eyes were dark and burned with flecks of amber, like fire, like a woman who wanted to devour him whole. And she was topless, wearing nothing but a pair of skinny jeans and a lacy black balconet bra that pushed her soft breasts up and towards him. He had never seen her like this before. The sight was ethereal. She shivered when he ran a single finger along the cup of her bra, dipping briefly into her cleavage before emerging to trace the other side, mesmerized by the sight before him.

He didn't keep her waiting long before he leaned forward and, placing a supportive hand beneath the arch of her back, attached his mouth to the velvety curve of one breast. He kissed it, suckled it, nipped it firmly—eliciting a gasp of something between pain and delight—before moving to lavish the other with similar attention. She loved it. He loved it. The sounds bubbling from her throat were like the songs of a siren, captivating him, enamoring him, holding his lips prisoner against her skin. He could easily do this to her for the rest of his life, until he died from starvation or dehydration or both.

"Fitz," she moaned when he gently bit her nipples through the lace embellishments of her bra. They were stiff, he could tell, in definite need of further attention.

"Fitz," her nails raked over his back and her tone became more insistent when he made no move to remove her bra. She was confident, secure, never shy about letting him know what she wanted. He'd learned that two years ago—her breathless, high-pitched cries of 'God, I like that,' and 'Please don't stop, baby, please don't,' resonated in his mind each and every time he touched himself thereafter. He'd never met a woman more in tune with her sexuality. It was a turn on of monumental proportions. Fitz stuck his tongue in the valley between her breasts, savoring the heady taste of her skin as she began to grind her hips into him again, undoubtedly seeking relief from the pressure building within her.

It seemed like all of the blood left in his body shot straight to his groin as Fitz instinctively thrust his hips upward, rubbing his fully hard erection against her core. She bit her lip, strangling another moan, her brown eyes like hot coals on him as he did it again, and again. He was struck by the memory of making her come by mirroring this exact movement against a wall, of her screams muffled in his shoulder as she shattered in his arms. It was a great memory—one of his absolute favorite memories—but he didn't want it to happen again. Not this time. This time when he made her come, he wanted to have her completely naked. He wanted to see each and every part of her when she unraveled.

Spurred on by the thought, Fitz gathered her legs in his arms and stood suddenly—so suddenly that she gasped and linked her arms tightly around his neck in surprise. He smiled and kissed her bottom lip gently, reassuringly, wordlessly letting her know that he would not ever let her fall, before he snaked one hand up the column of her spine and deftly unhooked her bra. She wanted it off, and he could deny her nothing. She wouldn't need it where they were going, anyway.

She deepened their kiss, slipping the straps of her bra over smooth arms as she flicked her tongue along the seam of his lips. Fitz was very aware of the weight of her naked breasts against his chest as he opened his mouth and their tongues intertwined once more. These were the breasts he'd been thinking of for years; he was dying to see them bare, to touch them with no clothing covering them, to flick his tongue along the pebbled areolas. But first he needed to focus on getting her to his bedroom. After two years of waiting, he had every intention of laying her down in his bed and taking his time getting to know each and every inch of her soft, supple body.

She tugged his shirt off in the hallway, tossing it carelessly to the floor so that she could run her hands over his bare chest. Her delicate hands on him made him want to snap, made him want to pin her to the wall and have his way with her right there, but he managed to keep it together. He carried her into his room and immediately deposited her onto his king-sized bed, quickly turning on the bedside lamp so that he could see her. She was unreal, sprawled out on her back among a sea of his pillows and blankets, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. He had plans to get rid of those jeans, but first he let himself soak in the sight of her. His eyes raked appreciatively over her body, lingering momentarily at her taut, naked breasts.

Her areolas—they were a deep shade of brown, the color of dark chocolate. He'd always wondered. For two years he'd imagined them every shade possible, and now he knew. He was looking at them. He couldn't believe it.

Her smoldering gaze never left his face as she toed off her ballet flats, letting them fall to the floor next to the bed and leaving her barefoot. Fitz focused briefly on her uncovered, dainty feet, with nails painted the prettiest shade of light pink. He was fascinated with every bit of her, toes included.

I love you.

The words were a weight, a burden, pressing heavily against his chest and clamoring to escape. This wasn't the first time he wanted to say them, not the first time he wanted to tell her how he felt. The words had been on the tip of his tongue earlier, when she first climbed into his lap, but instead he forced himself to tell her how beautiful she was, to make sure she remembered that she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, inside and out. It wasn't what he really wanted to say, but it was an acceptable alternative, and the emotion written on her face as he spoke let him know that his words were hitting home.

"Beautiful," he told her again, kneeling on the bed next to her. She looked up at him through wide, unblinking eyes as he placed a finger on her bottom lip and dragged it slowly downward, over the smooth skin of her neck and the valley between her breasts, bringing it to rest near her belly button. He was a man about to feast, about to indulge in the woman of his dreams, but he frowned when he noticed a light, almost invisible mark on Olivia's stomach. A surgical scar. Her entire body stiffened as he ran his finger along the length of it, and he raised his eyes to meet hers questioningly.

She was still looking at him, but now her eyes were tumultuous. There was a story behind that scar, one that Fitz knew nothing about, but he could see the desire in her expression blending with an unmistakable hint of pain. His heart ached. Whatever it was, he wanted to make it better for her. He wanted to heal her. So he bowed his head and replaced his finger with his lips, placing light, butterfly kisses along every inch of the blemish. When he looked back up at her, her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, her breath coming in quick, ragged bursts. Fitz climbed over her then, hovering over her on all fours, and nudged her cheek with his nose, encouraging her to look at him again.

"Beautiful," he repeated, this time referring to the scar, when her brown orbs focused on him again. She smiled and his heart exploded, fluttering wildly, madly inside his chest. He closed the gap between them and captured her lips in a hot, steamy kiss that reignited the passion between them; that had a low moan rumbling from her throat and her fingers curling into his deltoids.

He spent a few blissful moments just kissing her, letting himself get lost in the currents of electricity that ran through his veins at the feel of her pliant lips tangling with his, at the scent of her perfume hitting his nostrils and the sound of the little noises of pleasure she made. There was nothing like this woman, no one that could turn him on like she could, and as he tore his lips away from hers and began to nibble his way towards her breasts he thought dimly to himself that he would never make love to another woman again if he couldn't make love to Olivia Davis.


Their rhythm was intense, blazing hot and full of desire and passion and the deep, unrivaled need to be as close to each other and touch as much as each other as possible. Olivia was in a haze, all sense of rational thought long gone, her only focus the incredible, illicit sensations Fitz was drawing from her body. She didn't know that it was possible to want someone, to need someone this badly, but the spot between her thighs was a damp, palpitating mess, and she knew that she would never feel at ease again until he was inside her.

He was everywhere—his mouth on hers, then her neck, then her breasts. She whimpered in relief when he expertly licked and sucked her sensitive nipples, relieving some of the almost agonizing pressure she felt there. His hands roamed her waist, brushing over her curves before they settled on the zipper of her jeans.

He wasted no time in getting them off of her. Olivia lifted her hips to help him, shimmying her way out of the restrictive material. As soon as they were gone he returned his lips to her abdomen, kissing his way over her stomach, her belly button, the faint scar hidden just above the waistline of her jeans, until he reached the hem of her black, lacy panties. Olivia trembled when he nipped her there, his mouth so close to her center that it made her entire body hum with anticipation. He fingered the material of her underwear for a moment before he gave it a good, strong yank—ripping it off and tossing it to the side carelessly.

"Olivia," he groaned as she gestured to him invitingly. She was finally, finally bare before him, and she felt no embarrassment, not a single hangup about her body. She couldn't—not with him looking at her like that, like she was everything his dreams were made of, like he wanted to completely immerse himself in her. She was desperate to get rid of his sweatpants, to draw him close and revel in the weight of him on top of her, in the feel of their bodies moving together. She reached for him but he moved back, spreading her legs wide and kneeling in between them, his eyes flitting back and forth between her sex, her face, her sex...

Olivia bit her lip to stifle a loud cry when he suddenly, unexpectedly, lowered his face to her legs and nipped sharply on her inner thigh. He used his teeth to tug and nibble her skin hard enough to leave a mark. The move was so primal, so possessive, so close to where she wanted him the most that Olivia wanted to scream from the heaviness that burned between her legs. It was uncomfortable, and tight, and achy, and she squirmed as he ran his tongue over the mark he made, soothing it. It was a nice feeling, his tongue on her thigh, but her thigh was not where she needed him.

"Fitz, please," she begged when she didn't think she could take anymore. The pit of her stomach was coiled with tension; the lips of her sex were throbbing with need. She had never been so wound up in her life, and she couldn't handle it anymore.

"Please what, Livvy?"

She needed release, the earth-shattering, soul-crushing relief that only he could provide for her.

"Please touch me."

"Touch you where? Here?"

He licked a slow, torturous path up her inner thigh.

"No."

"Here?"

He licked her again, this time burying his tongue deep within the soft folds of her pussy. Olivia gasped and jumped involuntarily, nearly flying off of the bed as a shot of electricity bolted through her like lightning. She moaned and screwed her eyes shut when he grabbed her hips and pinned them to the bed, his fingers gripping hard enough to bruise.

"Ah, ah, Livvy. You stay put," he chastised, his warm breath fanning across her as he spoke. She shivered.

"Is this where you want me? Hmm?" he continued, licking her again before taking her sensitive clitoris between his lips. He sucked it, flicked his tongue over it, and sucked it again. Olivia's muscles seized and she began to shake, her entire body beyond her control.

"Yes," throaty, erotic noises that she'd never heard before were pouring from her throat. Her fingers clenched Fitz's shoulders and her legs wrapped around his torso and her pussy, her stomach, her entire body twitched and pulsed as she was hit by wave after wave of hot, exquisite pleasure. She was thoroughly aroused; it wasn't going to take long to push her over the edge. Fitz groaned.

"You're so wet, Livvy. You're fucking incredible."

He stroked her once, twice, his tongue pushing inside her opening and swirling around. He circled her clit and suckled it once more, and that was all it took to make Olivia explode. She screamed and dug her fingernails into his skin, her body shaking and shuddering delightfully as he continued to work her, lapping up her juices until he cleaned every last drop.


Making her come apart with his tongue had been on his wish list for years. It was his dream, his fantasy, and it had become one of his top aspirations in life as soon as he walked into her classroom weeks ago. And now it was happening—it was finally, actually happening—and Fitz had never derived as much pleasure from making a woman come as he was from this one, right now.

She was captivating, enthralling; her eyes closed, her chest heaving, her hips instinctively swirling in sync with his tongue. Fitz kept his eyes on her, watching in amazement as every muscle in her body seemed to contract with her orgasm. Even the fingers digging into his shoulders were clenching and unclenching rhythmically.

I love you.

Those three little words were on the tip of his tongue again, but he quelled the pesky thought as her body went limp against his. He kissed his way up her torso, stopping to give extra attention to all of his favorite places, before he reached her lips and covered them with his.

She responded instantly, her body springing back to life and writhing against his. She brought her legs up and locked them in place around his waist, drawing him as close as she possibly could. Fitz couldn't help but to thrust his erection urgently against her. He was harder than he'd ever been, and he needed to get inside her.

She moaned softly into his mouth when he let two fingers skim her inner thigh. She widened her legs and he accepted the invitation to sink his fingers into her warm heat, brushing a thumb over her clit for good measure as he did so. She panted as he twisted them, stretching her and testing her and making absolutely sure that she was ready for him. Marveling at the fact that she was already soaking wet again, he quickly shed his sweatpants and lined himself up with her. He rubbed his cock teasingly against her entrance, then paused.

As if sensing what he wanted, her eyes fluttered open and locked with his. The fire raging in them matched his own as he inched into her with painstaking slowness. As badly as he wanted to take her with wild abandon, he needed to make sure that she was adjusted to him first. The last thing he wanted to do was move too quickly and hurt her.

Her eyelids drooped and her mouth fell open soundlessly, forming a perfect 'O' shape as Fitz pushed further, burying himself as far as he could possibly go within her. He held still until she squirmed against him, her hips shifting beneath his in a wordless plea. She was ready. She wanted it. And that was all the encouragement he needed.

She yelped and dug her fingernails into his chest when he grabbed her hips, holding them firmly in place as he began to thrust into her with long, sure strokes. Fitz had to fight the urge to yell out himself—her lithe little body fit so perfectly around him, her silky inner walls clenching him so securely that it was almost unbearable. Pressure pooled in his belly and he shuddered as he picked up the pace, driving into her faster, harder, deeper. All of his strength, all of his willpower was focused on making her moan and quiver beneath him. This was it—everything he'd ever wanted, everything he remembered it to be, and Olivia was amazing, the most incredible woman he'd ever met. He groaned and dropped his head against her shoulder when she canted her hips upward, eagerly meeting his thrusts stroke for stroke. They fell into a natural rhythm; she mewled and cooed incoherently as Fitz pounded into her powerfully, relentlessly, determined to make her fall apart, to make her burst into millions of tiny pieces before his eyes.

When he thought she'd gotten used to their position he switched it up a bit, hitching her legs higher up his waist and cupping her ass in his hands so that he could thrust into her at a new, deeper angle.

"Fuck, Fitz," his name fell from her lips repeatedly, and he knew she liked their new position when her arms wound around his neck, clinging to him for dear life as her eyes closed and her head tilted back in ecstasy. He took advantage of the newly exposed skin of her neck, dipping his head to kiss and suck on it as he held their rhythm, pounding into her with fervor.

He tore his lips away from her neck and raised his head to look at her when he felt her entire body tense and her moans reached a new, throaty timbre. She was already looking at him, her eyes burning a hole through his, and he knew from her expression alone that she was close. She was ready to fall over the edge; all she needed was one final push from him.

He gave it to her, changing their rhythm so that his strokes became hot, grinding circles as his thumb brushed across her clit at the same time. Her eyes never left his as she splintered, shattered, her entire body going rigid before her orgasm pulsed through her. She screamed and Fitz swore as she erupted against him; warm, sticky juices flowing out onto his dick as her walls tightened, contracted around it, pulling him deeper and threatening to send him over the edge with her.

"Livvy," her name was all he could speak as he twitched and jerked, his thrusts suddenly irregular. He was so close and she was still vibrating, still coming around him. She was unreal, a vision before him, and he knew that he couldn't hold out any longer.

I love you.

A loud cry ripped from his throat and the thought repeated itself in his head like a mantra as he exploded within her. He slanted his lips over hers in a rough, bruising kiss, swallowing her screams as his seed released into her womb in deep, intense pulses.

I love you.

He released her lips. Dazed eyes fluttered open and connected with his; their orgasms tempering, the sounds of their passion subsiding to heavy breathing. They stayed like that for a few moments, each trembling a little with aftershocks, before Fitz began to speak.

"Olivia. I need to tell you something, Livvy," his voice was low, husky, a growl unlike any sound he'd ever heard come from his mouth before. He lowered his head and kissed her again quickly, ensuring that he had her full attention before he moved his lips to her ear. He knew that he couldn't tell her that he loved her, but he still needed to tell her how he felt, "I. Will. Never. Forget. This. Do you hear me, Livvy? Are you listening? This is incredible. You are incredible. You just gave me the best orgasm I've ever had in my life and if I don't see you again for another two years don't you dare start to think that I could forget about you. You are the most amazing person that I have ever met and for as long as I live I will never forget you."

He kissed her ear and raised his head to find that her brown eyes were glowing with concern.

"Not that I plan on not seeing you for two years," he added quickly, and the concern instantly melted into relief, "I just meant that…I couldn't believe when I realized that you thought I didn't remember you…You're all I thought about for years and I want you to know. You need to know that I—you're—this is everything."

She smiled slightly, hazily, her mind still addled with post-coital bliss. She reached out and stroked her thumb over Fitz's cheek, cupping it affectionately in the palm of her hand.

"You're unforgettable, Fitz," she whispered, leaning up to place a tender kiss on his lips. Fitz smiled and ran his fingers through her messy hair. They stayed like that for a moment, Fitz lying on top of her, his softening member still twitching gently inside her, until he realized that he was probably crushing her.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, and she shook her head no. Still worried, Fitz shifted and moved them until he was lying on his back and her head was on his chest. He embraced her with both arms and she happily snuggled deeper against him, draping one of her legs across both of his, "Comfy?"

"Yes," she sighed, closing her eyes instantly. Fitz kissed the top of her head and closed his own eyes, their bodies cooling off and their breathing patterns returning to normal as they both drifted off into a deep, sated sleep.


AN: Guys, I'm exhausted. That was by far the hardest chapter I've ever written! And I'm still not 100% happy with it, but I figured eff it, there comes a time when I need to stop being picky and just post, lol. So I hope you guys enjoyed! It came out way longer than I thought it would – is there such a thing as too much smut? Maybe I've found that line? LOL.

So yeah, I hope this is as good as you expected! We still have a couple of bumps in the road ahead (of course) so I hope you stay tuned! I do have a wee bit of bad news, however…I'm probably going to need to take a break for a couple of weeks until I finish up this semester of grad school (it ends June 26, mark your calendars!). Balancing both of my jobs with school with observations with fanfic is really hard! That's not to say that I won't be writing when I can; it just won't be as often 'cause I tend to fall asleep at the keyboard lately. Right after the semester ends I'll be going out of the country without my laptop for a week and a half, but I do plan on writing by hand (gasp!) so hopefully I'll have something by the time I get back! If not, summer vaca will be in full swing by then! I hate to disappear on you guys, but I figure Olitz is in a good place right now, so this isn't a bad spot to take a bit of a break, is it?

Don't forget to tell me what you think about this chapter! I hope it lived up to all of your expectations and more!