A/n: I'd like to apologize in advance for a long chapter, but I felt like everything about this moment needed to be captured. Again, this is not intended to be a story but I felt this moment should stand alone unlike my other one-shots, unless you feel otherwise. All I can say is, I tried & I hope it's not too big of a disappointment. Enjoy lovelies!

Btw, I do take a few shots at Jake so if for some reason, you like him…Well sorrynotsorry!

Fitz looked up as soon as the door opened again. He fully expected his assistant to come back in and jump his bones. Hell, maybe even apologize, although that's highly unlikely. He stopped, his breath caught in his chest, as Olivia stood in the doorway. She looked like she had run all the way from her apartment. He raised one eyebrow, amused.

Olivia leaned against the door. Her hand was on her chest as she tried to even out her breathing. When she moved, she let her purse slide off of her arm and onto the floor. She pulled off her black gloves and tossed them to the side next. Then her coat came off.

Fitz got up and came around to the other side of his desk. He was content to just watch her for a minute. She had a smirk on her face, matching his. She must have thought this was a game, but he was very serious. The fact that she came here tonight meant one thing: he would die before he let her go again. And he was going to have to prove that to her once and for all. He leaned back against the edge of his desk, hands gripping the edge, feet crossed at the ankles.

Olivia paused for a minute, truly admiring all that he was. She preferred him out of his clothes but she had to admit there was just something so sexy about the way he looked in them. The way his shirts would strain against his muscles or how his toned legs showed through his pants. He didn't look any of his 54 years of age. She was unconsciously touching her breasts again. The movement of him licking his lips broke her out of her spell. She reached down to un-tuck her shirt and pulled it slowly over her head, tossing it at him.

Fitz still hadn't moved. He knew once he did, all control would be gone. He wouldn't hurt her, at least not in an un-pleasurable way. When he was done with her, he wanted her to be deliciously sore. The last thing that would be on her mind was leaving him. If he were honest with himself, he didn't want to be able to stand up, either.

She trailed her hands down her body, stopping at the button on her black slacks. She unfastened them and pushed them over her hips, letting them fall around her feet. She stepped out of them and stopped.

Fitz gripped the edge of the desk a little tighter. His nostrils flared, eyes falling down to her breasts. They looked fuller now, practically spilling over the edge of the cups of her bra. And her bra… no the g-string; she was trying to kill him. It was a soft pink number, but it wasn't until she turned away from him to unfasten her bra and he got a perfect view of her ass that he almost ran over to her.

She unhooked her bra and let it fall off. Placing her hair over one shoulder, she looked at him over the exposed one. For some reason she felt a little self-conscious as she turned around. She placed her hands over both breasts, hiding them from his view. But once she was facing him she slowly let her hands fall; judging by the look in his eyes, whether he found her desirable or not would never be a question. She ran her hands thru her hair as she sashayed over towards him. She didn't stop until she was in the middle of the room.

Fitz finally released his death grip on his desk, loosening his tie. He watched as she stood there, twirling her hair around her index finger. She looked like a naughty girl, and naughty girls need to be punished. He unbuttoned his shirt. He tossed it at her, like she had done to him then pulled his undershirt over his head. He dropped it to the floor, never taking his eyes off of her. Her eyes never left his body as she admired his toned chest and well-defined abs. After the suicide attempt, he threw himself into his work and started exercising rigorously.

Finally, he began to walk towards her. She tried to move back a little but he grabbed her waist and yanked her body into his. She put her hands on his chest to keep him from squishing her and lost all train of thought. His skin felt hot underneath her palms. She started rubbing soothing circles on his chest. His eyes closed as he let out a breath.

"Livvie," he whispered.

"Hmm," she responded, still in a daze.

He finally opened his eyes and looked at her. She was just so beautiful. More so every time he laid eyes on her. He wanted a lifetime of looking into her eyes. She knew what he was thinking when her eyes met his. The intensity of his love frightened her, yet thrilled her at the same time. On the worst day it felt like she might suffocate from his love. But on the best day…his love felt like hope. His love felt like Vermont, and jam, and babies.

She slowly raised her arms to wrap around his neck. He held her tighter, loving how his arms fit into the curve of her waist. He let his fingers trail down to play with the strings, if you could call them strings, of her g-string. She knew what was coming and she didn't care as he ripped them off.

She wanted him to be naked too; when they were in their most basic form of being, their connection felt stronger than ever. That's why she never complained when things always seemed to lead to sex. It was never just "sex" with them. It wasn't even lovemaking. She didn't know how to describe it, all she knew was that no other man could touch her in the places that he could, in the ways that he could; even if other men thought that they could.

She reached down and slowly undid his belt buckle. He ran his hands up and down her arms as he watched her. She slowly slid his belt out of the loops and dropped it onto the floor. His breathing increased as she toyed with the button of his pants. Something as simple as undressing one another was akin to foreplay. Unzipping them, she pushed his pants to the floor. He toed off his shoes before kicking his pants off.

She grabbed the edge of his boxers as she stood up, pulling him closer. One hand went up to play in his curls as she licked at his lips. When she tried to kiss him, he pulled back. He was serious when he said he wouldn't kiss her until she was begging. As soon as he was completely naked he planned to show her why no other man would ever be right for her.

Not deterred, she kissed down his chest and stomach, stopping at his boxers. Using her teeth, she pulled them down to his knees before using her hands to take them the rest of the way off. She stood up, placing random kisses up both of his thighs, moving past his length, and retracing the path of kisses that she left on his stomach and chest earlier.

He let out a low growl before grabbing her face. He looked into her eyes and said, "I Love You. It's always been you. Only you."

Her eyes closed. She would never get tired of hearing him say that, even when she tried to fight her feelings and act like those words meant nothing. Even with everything that's happened, she still loves him too. But she's too scared to say it. She's already lied to him once, about leaving alone. Granted, it nearly killed her to force the words out and she immediately felt sick afterwards. But she felt like she didn't have a choice; she was always hurting him somehow and he had his daughter to deal with. She didn't want to make things worse in that moment. She personally knew how Karen was feeling. To make it worse, he never questioned her answers and after finding out the truth he still wanted her.

He waits for her to open her eyes before releasing her face. Wordlessly, he picks her up and walks her over to his desk, spreading her out like he promised.

She whispered, "I'm sorry" over and over. He knows why, but he doesn't care. Not anymore. All that matters is she's here now, where she belongs. And if he gets his way, the next time he calls her she won't even think about mentioning Jake's name.

He moved back to take off her heels. He didn't want her wearing anything but his scent. He pushed her legs wide open, moving until he was face to face with her core. He inhaled deeply, reveling in her sweet scent. She reached out to touch his hair and pull him closer but he slapped her hand away.

"No," he growled.

"But—"

"No," he said again, firmer this time.

He started kissing and biting her upper thighs. He licked each bite mark that he left, slowly moving closer to her core again. Olivia needed to put her hands somewhere so she tried to touch him again. This time he laced his fingers with hers, keeping her hands at her sides, on the desk.

Slowly, deliberately, he started to tease her, tracing patterns over her lower lips. He took his time with her as punishment for their earlier phone call. When he finally took her bud into his mouth, he swirled his tongue. Her mouth fell open as she struggled to keep her eyes open and head up so she could watch him. He was literally tongue kissing her clit. Her head fell back as she started to move her hips.

"Fitz…More," she begged.

"Mine!" he told her, before continuing.

Thrusting his tongue into her, he kept the same slow pace. He wanted her taste to be ingrained on his tongue. He wanted her to remember the way his tongue felt every time she took a step.

Letting his tongue slip out of her, he licked his way up her stomach, stopping at her breasts. He strategically placed hickeys all over her chest so she would know whom she belonged to when she saw herself naked in the mirror. And just in case she somehow slept with "him" anytime soon, he'd know too.

He finally released her hands, placing one of his on her back so he could hold her body still while he continued his "artwork". She wasted no time grabbing his hair to move his head so that he could take her nipple into his mouth. As soon as she felt his hot mouth where she wanted him, she let out a long moan.

When he pulled away abruptly, she tried to hit him.

"How does it feel when I leave you right when you need me most? Feels like you might die right?" he asked.

She focused on him then. His eyes looked so…tortured, and lost, underneath all of the love.

He said, "Imagine that but ten times worse. I didn't want to live without you. I don't want to live without you."

Her heart felt like someone was squeezing it. "I don't want to live without you either," she admitted.

"Then don't," he told her, before leaning in to kiss her neck. "Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me." He mumbled into the skin of her neck. He didn't realize he was crying until he tasted the saltiness of his tears on her skin.

Her hands were running through his hair but at the realization that he was crying she tugged gently, bringing him face to face with her again. His eyes were closed in shame. She kissed his eyelids. She whispered for him to open his eyes.

"I'm so sorry. It meant nothing. He means nothing. I was wrong before, about... I don't know him like I know you. I could never know him like I know you."

He continued to look her in the eyes until he knew she wasn't lying to him. Without breaking eye contact, he pushed her legs further apart before pulling her body to his. He didn't even try to be gentle as he pushed into her.

He was home.

He brought his hand up to wrap around the back of her neck, holding her face in place as he began to move in and out of her. He picked up his pace as she bit her lip. The whole time they never took their eyes off one another.

"Tell me there's still hope."

"There's still…hope."

"Tell me we'll be together. Always."

"We'll always, be…" Lost in the sensations, she couldn't even finish her sentence.

She dropped her hands to his waist, trying to get even closer to him. His thrusts turned short and powerful as he felt her starting to lose control. Using his free arm, he placed it under her leg to increase the angle and friction.

She was starting to see stars. Surely this was the big one, the orgasm that would take her to heights she's never seen before killing her. And she'd die with the biggest grin on her face, in the arms of the man she loves.

He didn't stop until they came, together. Afterwards, he pulled out before dropping back down onto his knees. He aimed to please. Her body fell back onto the desk, exhausted but she jumped when she felt his tongue on her core.

"Fitz, what are you—"

He hummed in response. Her toes curled and she shut up. She knew this was his favorite part of sex: tasting her after her first orgasm, until she begged for him to stop. She usually hated begging because she felt weak but not with him.

This time he pushed two fingers into her as he licked at her bud. Her juices made it easy for him to slide in and out of her at a rapid pace.

"Stop, I c—Fitz…No…Please." She was trying to push his head away. "Fuuuuuuck!"

He didn't stop until he felt her thighs lock up around his head. If he didn't need to breath he would've kept going. He stood up, pulling her body up before crushing his mouth onto hers. Finally. She had been dying to feel his lips on hers all night. He kissed her like he kissed her core and she went limp in his arms. She was two seconds from passing out from her taste on his tongue.

He didn't stop kissing her as he picked her up and walked them backwards to the couch. He sat down with her straddling his lap. They went at it two more times while on the couch, in every position they could think of. This time they didn't hold anything back: he pulled her hair; she bit him. They were both too tired to move when they finally finished, but they couldn't stay there.

"Oh my god! Fitz, what about the 23 people?" she asked suddenly.

"What about them?" he asked. "I don't care who knows at this point as long as there is hope for us."

"But, shouldn't you let them at least go home? To, I don't know, go to sleep?"

"Only if you spend the night here, with me." The look he gave her dared her to say no.

She knew if she said no, he'd have her spread on the floor with him between her legs. But after the way he made love to her all evening, she'd get up on the podium herself and announce to the world that she loved Fitzgerald Grant III, if he asked her to. She agreed and they both got dressed, trying to be somewhat presentable. As they walked through the door he started laughing at her. She was walking like she had just learned how and was still unsteady on her feet. She turned to glare at him.

"This is your fault," she snapped, partly amused.

"No, it's your fault." He retorted. "At least you can stand up straight."

"Barely!" She giggled. "I still don't see how this is my fault though."

"You said there was hope. You shouldn't have said it if you knew you couldn't handle what it meant."

They continued their playful argument all the way upstairs.

P.s. Depending on how the rest of S4A goes, I might add little tidbits to this story! ….Okay so I just saw The Last Supper & that bunker kiss? Look for a Chapter 3!