A/N: You're all amazing - I honestly can't thank you enough for reading and reviewing.

(Please note I can't reply to your questions if you leave a review anonymously! But thank you for asking them, and for giving me things to think about.)

This chapter is one of my favorites - I hope you enjoy it.


Chapter Twelve - We Can't Stop... Can We?

She's going to be late for work.

"Ohh."

Very late.

"Fitz!"

"Mmm.

His voice vibrates against her ribs, her abdomen as he kisses his way downwards.

"Stop."

She pushes on his shoulders - so large beneath her small hands - to make him look up at her; his smile is wicked as he drops his hips, connecting his very solid erection with her very receptive core. Even through their underwear her body's response is instantaneous: eyes falling closed; air leaving her lungs in a strangled gasp; back arching off the bed, pushing her closer to him.

"Ohh," she says again as her legs wrap themselves around his waist.

"You see?" Fitz murmurs, gazing down at her with those blue eyes, his chestnut curls already a sexed-up mess from their first encounter since waking this morning, and honestly how could she ever turn him down?

"I can't stop," he says, and he's looking at her with unadulterated lust and breathtaking tenderness - like she's the very center of everything he's ever known. "We can't stop... Can we?"

Caught in the intimacy of his gaze, their hearts thudding together in the quietness of the room, she decides right then that rumpled, insatiable, heart-on-his-sleeve Fitz is her absolute favorite. She hopes her eyes give him her answer; knows that her kisses and her hands and the way she starts to move her body against his certainly do.

"Don't stop," she's sighing minutes later when they're a tangle of limbs in the middle of the bed, drenched in early morning sunlight. This is where he belongs, and the universe knows it.

"Don't ever stop, Fitzy."

"Never."


Later, Fitz is sitting alone in his friend Henry's kitchen, drinking a coffee and gazing out over the back yard with what he's sure must be a ridiculous grin on his face. He didn't know it was possible to feel this happy: he's so full of joy right now he's not sure how he's managing to contain it. He wants to jump up, to shout at the top of his voice; he even wants to dance and that thought makes him laugh aloud to himself. His body is awash with endorphins and he can still feel her all over him, despite being fresh out of the shower. Making love to Olivia Pope just once will do that to a man, let alone three times in less than twelve hours - they just can't help themselves.

He was exhausted when he arrived at her apartment last night, his mind telling him he should have been asleep hours ago, but that paled into insignificance as soon as she took his hand and led him to her bedroom. He remembers feeling momentarily overwhelmed seeing her kneel before him in the middle of her bed, looking so beautiful and vulnerable as she offered him every single piece of her. He wondered if he was dreaming until she spoke, welcoming him home - and he'd never felt like he belonged anywhere until that very moment.

As soon as he went to her and kissed her, he was overcome by the most furious wave of desire and then it became a race to be naked and inside of her as fast as possible. Their foreplay was their time apart: that aching build-up which ignited as soon as their mouths met, fueled by touch and taste and love. He bruised her lips with the voracity of his kisses; caressed every inch of her soft, cocoa skin and it was just as familiar as his own. The sex was quick - frantic, even - because he'd really fucking missed her and once they'd started, he just couldn't stop. When he made her come, seconds before he did, it was easy because she'd missed him just as much and because their otherworldly connection hadn't dimmed at all in their time apart - in fact, he felt he knew her better than ever.

And then this morning, after too little sleep, he woke with this incredible woman in his arms and he wanted her all over again. And again. Had she not had to go to work, he would have kept her in that bed all day long, loving her; worshipping her. He meant what he said: they can't stop. It's just impossible, now.

If someone had told him two weeks ago that he would be in this situation, he would never have believed them. Two weeks ago, when he was still trying to remember the best of his wife; to see past the worst of her, which is all he's known for the last few years. He wonders when they became so toxic to one another; when the things he used to love about her became the things he hates most of all. Did she change, or was it him? He's had so many revelations about his marriage since meeting Olivia that he's already losing track, caught up in a whirlwind where she stands, perfectly serene and still, at the epicenter. Everything in his life now revolves around her and that should scare him, probably, but it doesn't. He's not afraid of falling in love; of baring his soul and offering her his heart. He knows she'll look after it: she makes him a promise to keep it safe every time their eyes meet.

He can't wait for this evening, to take her out in this city they both call home. Even under the guise of 'friends' or 'colleagues' he just wants to be seen beside her, to be associated with her because she is amazing. He's going to try his best to keep his hands to himself but he knows it won't be easy: he has a serious addiction to everything about her. He wonders whether they'll go to her apartment again afterwards or come back here, to this house which has been his home for the last six weeks. He met Henry in Ecuador years ago, both of them volunteers, and while Fitz eventually settled down his friend still spends months of the year abroad, making this place the obvious choice when Fitz needed somewhere to stay.

And besides, Henry knows what he's going through: he got divorced last year, from one of Mellie's closest friends. The two women are cut from the same cloth and when Fitz first called to ask if he could stay, his friend let him vent and could sympathize with every single word. Fitz now finds that he's envious: if only he was already divorced, he and Olivia could be together right now, in the open. He could walk through the city holding her hand; kiss her in the middle of the street whenever he felt like it (which would be all the time, of course). They could feed each other in the window seats of all their favorite restaurants and let the press take photos to their hearts' content, with nothing other than their age gap to try and sensationalize.

As it is, he won't let anyone suggest that she was in any way involved in the breakdown of his marriage. He won't let it be insinuated that she 'stole' him from Mellie; that she's a homewrecker or worse - a whore - for daring to date a man who was not legally single at the time. He's the bad guy in all of this and he doesn't really care if anyone comes after him: his business and his reputation are strong enough to survive. But he knows how much Olivia's career means to her, and that her being so successful so young has meant a lot of media interest in her personal life. He feels a fierce desire to protect her and right now, the best way to do that is to keep their secret and hurry his divorce along as fast as possible.

He stands, finishing the last of his coffee before heading upstairs to finally unpack his suitcases. He decides to take nearly everything to the dry cleaners and realizes he's going to need to stop off at his house to pick up some more clothes. He calls Mellie's office and checks with one of the receptionists that she's there without giving his name - he doesn't want her to know he's back, and he certainly doesn't want to see her if he doesn't have to. It's one thing that he's fallen for Olivia; quite another to stand in front of his wife when another woman is all over him, so engrained in him already that he's certain her aura surrounds him, visible to everyone.

He drops off his dry cleaning and then calls Olivia on the drive to his house, hoping to catch her between meetings, but she doesn't answer. He misses her already and they've only been apart a few hours. How did they make it through four days? And he's away in California next weekend too, for his father's annual charity gala: a trip he always dreads, but even more so now that it means being apart from love of his life. The luxury of their week in London suddenly seems a very long time ago.

The house looks exactly the same when he pulls up in the driveway: large and beautifully manicured, but cold. There's no charm to it; none of the love that surrounds Mark and Annabel's home, or even Liv's apartment. And inside, it's not just empty of people - and who needs four bedrooms, really, with no children to fill them? - but it's soulless. He can't remember the last time he laughed here, or put on loud music or felt relaxed, like he belonged. It's just a place he showered and slept, spending most evenings and weekends either in the office or out with friends, playing sports or drinking in bars.

Looking around, he can't see that much has changed since he left except most of the liquor bottles in the drinks cabinet are empty now, and upstairs there's a tumbler on Mellie's nightstand which is almost certainly vodka. He can't help but wonder if another man has been here in his absence. Maybe the guy she slept with on the same night he met Olivia has become a regular thing; maybe he's making her happy. But there's nothing to suggest anyone has been in the house except his wife and their cleaner.

His eyes are drawn to their wedding photo on the bookcase in their bedroom, the first time he's actually noticed it in years. Has she left it there on purpose, for sentimentality, or is it just an invisible relic to her too? If he's ever lucky enough to marry Olivia, he will cherish every memory of their special day; he won't ever let them fade and be ignored, just another ordinary part of everyday life. She is extraordinary, and he won't ever stop thinking so.

He takes the photograph downstairs and puts in in the bureau drawer with their other albums. Then he decides he doesn't ever want to come back to this sad house again. He gets boxes from the garage and packs up the rest of his things: cook books, whiskey glasses, clothes, toiletries, his gym kit and squash racquets. He doesn't want to take over Henry's house but he'll store it all in his car if it means he doesn't need to return here. As he sorts through cupboards and boxes he realizes so much of what he owns means nothing to him: he doesn't need most of these things. He only needs Olivia, now.

The back of his car is full by the time he's finished; he's even managed to fit his skis in. There are two hours until his meeting with the divorce lawyer so he drives to his office, leaving his home behind without looking back. What's the point? He's much, much happier looking forwards. The inner city traffic doesn't even bother him today and after he's parked underground and taken the elevator up, he's finally somewhere that does feels like home. His business encompasses the entire twenty first floor and has spectacular city views in all directions. He stops to chat to everyone on his way across the office, finding out what's new with them. He considers every employee a friend, from the admin staff to his top accounts managers.

And then there's Cyrus, visible through the glass walls in the middle of some passionate speech, his fist raised in the air as he addresses the meeting room. They've worked together for almost ten years now and Fitz counts the older man among his closest friends. A shrewd businessman with a fierce political mind, he's the iron backbone behind Fitz's unstoppable optimism and goodwill; the hard sell behind his charm. He would trust Cyrus with his entire enterprise - and with his life.

His phone rings when he's chatting to his secretary Charlotte, catching up on her news before they've even started on talking about work. "Excuse me a minute," Fitz says, seeing Olivia's name on the screen and trying to pretend his heart hasn't just skipped a beat. He goes into his office and closes the door.

"Hi, beautiful."

"Hi." He can hear the smile in her voice. "Sorry I missed your call earlier, it's been a really busy morning. What's up?"

"Nothing much. I just wanted to say that I miss you, and I can't wait to see you tonight."

There's a pause and he knows she's blushing. "I can't wait either," she confesses, her tone softer now. "This morning was… magical. I can't stop thinking about it."

"I can't stop thinking about you," he tells her, perching on the edge of his desk, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. "What are you doing now?"

"Just having a quick lunch. I've got another meeting in five minutes."

"Can I come?" he jokes, and she laughs.

"No, you'd be far too distracting."

"Livvie, you're no fun."

"I am. I'll be fun later, I promise."

He doesn't know whether her voice actually dropped or whether he just imagined it, but suddenly six o'clock seems far too far away. "What happens if I can't control myself tonight?" he asks, half seductive and half genuinely concerned.

But instead of being apprehensive, Olivia sounds thrilled by the idea. "Then you'll be in big trouble, mister."

And they both know, in that moment, that he's going to flirt with her like crazy; to push the boundaries as far as she'll let him, because her threat of punishment sounds absolutely divine. "I like trouble," he murmurs, feeling himself getting aroused. "Especially when it's kinky."

"Who said anything about kinky?" she giggles. "You're quite presumptuous, Dr Grant."

"Really? I think you, Miss Pope, would be very kinky given the chance." A hundred different possible scenarios are crossing his mind all at once. "Maybe tonight you should show me. You can tie me up, have you wicked way with me…"

"Maybe I will," she muses. "But right now, I have to go."

"No you don't."

"I do!"

Her sweet laughter conjures butterflies in his stomach. "Okay," he concedes with a smile. "I'll see you later."

"Bye."

"Wait! Liv?"

"Yeah?"

"Just so you know… I can handle pain."

And then he ends the call as her shocked laughter fills his ear, chuckling to himself. Teasing her is so easy, and definitely up there among his new favorite activities. After the bittersweet feeling he's been carrying since visiting his house, the high she's just given him is even better today than usual. He basks in it as he answers a few emails and he's sure everyone he talks to is looking at him strangely, trying to work out what's made their boss so happy.

"I've fallen in love with the most incredible woman," he wants to tell each and every one of them. "Do you know Olivia Pope? She's everything, and she's mine."

After a debrief of the week's meetings with Cyrus and a promise to organize dinner together soon, Fitz leaves the office and walks to see his lawyer with a spring in his step. It's a glorious fall day and he smiles at everyone he passes, reveling in the hustle and bustle of New York City. He feels like he's looking at everything with new eyes, his mind wiped blank, leaving him awestruck and impressionable again. The law firm, Prince Kauffman King, is only two blocks away and he arrives too soon, wishing he had longer to stroll among the crowds and admire the magnificent architecture all around him.

His appointment doesn't take long: he provides his lawyer with all the documentation she's asked for including a copy of their prenuptial agreement, and explains that there are faults with both parties - they both committed adultery on the same day. If she's shocked by this, she doesn't show it. He asks how long the process will take and is surprised when she says eight to twelve weeks - and if Mellie tries to contest it (which he really hopes she won't), even longer.

"Divorcing a lawyer is not easy," she tells him ominously. "And your wife has quite a reputation in this city."

He knows this, of course. She didn't get to the top without pissing off a lot of people along the way. "Do you have any advice to hurry the process along?" he asks, trying not to sound desperate.

"Don't negotiate anything without me," she warns. "And if she tries to play games with you, don't respond. Just call me and I'll handle everything."

They both stand and Fitz shakes her hand. "Thank you, Miss King."

"My pleasure, Dr Grant. I'll schedule a meeting with your wife's lawyer and be in touch soon."

He leaves feeling slightly deflated. He'd thought it might take a month, maybe six weeks in total. But then again, twelve weeks is better than fifty-two, or even longer. He just prays that Mellie will be reasonable; that she will contain her vindictiveness when it comes to him. He wasn't a good husband but neither was she a good wife, and they both know it.

He's lost in thought and realizes he's wandered all the way to the banks of the Hudson River. He buys himself a coffee and then stops in a florist, selecting a beautiful bunch of flowers for Olivia. If it wasn't for her, he's certain he would still be in limbo right now, trying to decide whether to stay in his marriage or cut and run. Gifts will never be enough to show his immense gratitude to her but they're a start, and he wants to spoil her at every opportunity.

Plus, he can't pick her up for a date empty-handed: his wife might not be a lady, but he's nothing if not a gentleman.


It's six o'clock on the dot when he knocks on Olivia's door that evening, dressed in a black suit and white shirt. He's filled with so much excitement it's bubbling inside of him, his earlier disappointment at the lawyer's timeframe all-but forgotten. She answers within seconds and the very first thing he notices is the pink lipgloss on her smiling mouth: so delicious he can't help but kiss her as soon as he's crossed the threshold, setting down the flowers on her sideboard so he can cradle her face in his palms.

"Hi," he says a moment later, gazing down at her, trying to memorize every curve, every nuance of her face. Her makeup is flawless as usual, and although he thinks she's the most beautiful woman in the world when her skin is bare, the way she's highlighted her eyes and cheekbones makes her look absolutely radiant tonight.

She covers his hands with hers, her smile even wider now. "Hi."

They grin at one another for a minute, like the love-struck fools they are, until Fitz finally steps back to fully appraise her. She's wearing a white top, its straps thin, its neckline low and loose giving him a great view from his height - which he shamelessly takes advantage of. She's not coy, though: she lets him look, watching with a smirk as his gaze travels down over her silver and gold beaded miniskirt to her bare legs and five inch heels.

"Baby," he sighs, his voice gravelly, because she's just heaven and he's turned on already. "That's a very short skirt for dinner with a friend... almost indecent."

"Well," she says with a smirk, "He's a very special friend."

She twirls around but Fitz stops her halfway with his hands on her hips, pulling her back against him. He brushes her curls to the side and presses a soft kiss to her neck, making her moan.

"You look incredible." A few more kisses and her body has gone utterly slack in his arms. "I can't believe I get to take you out tonight," he murmurs, slowly spinning her to face him again. Her dark eyes have glazed over with lust.

"Do we have to go out?"

"Yes." She looks so cute when she pouts that he rubs the tip of her nose with his. "It's a date; we're dating. I'm wooing you."

"Fitz, you don't need to. I'm already wooed."

Will he ever tire of hearing her say things like that? He very much doubts it. "Well, think of this as a bonus then. You get to spend even more time with the amazing guy who has successfully wooed you." She laughs, her body rising into his as she links her arms around his neck. "Are you ready to go?"

"Mmm," she says noncommittally, kissing him again instead. And god, she's so tempting as she playfully coaxes his tongue out to meet hers, humming contentedly into his mouth. The scent of her perfume surrounds him, taking him all the way back to the conference dinner when she first sat down beside him and held out her hand. From there to here in just under two weeks… It's insane.

"Livvie," he breathes, drawing away. "Stop."

"Why?" She raises her eyebrows and bites on her bottom lip, looking devilishly sexy.

"Because…" He turns them around and pins her against the door, pressing his erection into her belly and feeling her whole body shudder as she whimpers. "I have plans to woo you, and you will let me. There will be time for this… later."

He kisses her lips, her throat, between her breasts and then lower, to her thighs as he pushes her skirt up. Her little white lacy thong is so fucking tantalizing and he licks her through it, grazing her clit with his teeth.

"Fitz!" she cries, her muscles tensing beneath his hands. "Oh my god!"

He stands again, smirking as he gazes down at her, slowly rubbing circles over her through her underwear with his fingers. This wasn't part of his plan but it's certainly going to increase the intensity of their date. "Sorry," he says, watching lustfully as desire flickers across her face. "I guess I'd better stop."

He withdraws from her, leaving her gasping for breath and looking at him like he's personally insulted her, which makes him laugh.

"You are such a tease Fitzgerald," she says exasperatedly, rearranging her skirt.

"I know, Olivia," he mocks. He picks up the bunch of flowers and hands them to her. "I brought these for you. Although if you don't want this to be a date, maybe I should take them back."

Her face softens and she holds out her hands for them. "They're beautiful, Fitz. Thank you." She inhales their scent and he just gazes at her, wondering if she could be any lovelier.

"You're welcome, gorgeous. Now, are you actually ready to go?"

"Almost. Do you want a quick tour first? I left too early this morning to give you one."

She takes his hand and leads him down the hallway, showing him the living room with adjoining kitchen where she puts her flowers into a vase of water, the guest bathroom and bedroom, and her room once again. The whole place is full of her, and obviously very well loved. He sits on her bed while she disappears into her walk-in closet to find a jacket, thinking how comfortable he feels. He can imagine them spending nights and weekends here cooking together, watching Netflix on her laptop tucked under the covers and having long bubble baths, their slippery bodies intertwined while they drink red wine and let the candles burn low.

When she returns wearing a black blazer, he wants to tell her about his fantasies but he can see in her eyes that she's had exactly the same ones too. "I love your place," he says instead as she crosses to her dresser and puts a few extra things into her purse.

"Thank you." She turns to him and holds out a strip of condoms. "Will we be needing these?"

"I don't know. Are you planning on seducing me in the restaurant? Because I know I said kinky, but it seems a little risky-"

Olivia laughs and rolls her eyes. "Not for the restaurant. Ew. I meant if we end up back at your place."

"I know what you meant." He stands and moves towards her, taking the condoms and tucking them into his inside pocket before wrapping his arms around her waist. "And yes, we will definitely be needing them."

"All of them?"

He grins. "Oh yes."

"I really need to make a doctor's appointment and get a prescription for the pill," she sighs. "I meant to do it this week but I kept forgetting. Usually I'd get Quinn to schedule it for me but I know she would start asking questions."

"That's okay," he says, because she sounds like she's apologizing and she really shouldn't be. "Now, shall we go?"

"Yes. I'm ready."

"Good." He leans down to kiss her, lingering as long as possible until she finally withdraws.

"Fitz don't, or we'll never leave."

"Sorry," he says with a sheepish smile. "I'm just not sure how I'm going to make it through the next few hours until I can kiss you again."

It's an honest statement, not premeditated, but it makes her dark eyes shine with emotion and if he wasn't already sure, he certainly is now: she has indeed been well and truly wooed.


Olivia sips her cocktail and tries not to stare at him too much, or put her hands all over him as she's so desperate to do. He's so sexy it's difficult for her to form coherent thoughts. She wants to be cool and collected but those smoking blue eyes are just constantly devouring her, taking off her clothes right here in the middle of the bar, and it's rendering her an absolute mess. Why did they think it would be possible to go on a date in public, to one of the most popular venues in New York City, with their raging, flammable chemistry? Why did he have to turn her on so thoroughly before they left her apartment, with his mouth and his fingers and those words which just melted her heart?

And why is his hand on her knee, his thumb stroking her bare skin beneath the table, making her shiver?

"Fitz," she admonishes, finally coming to her senses. She moves his hand and shifts away from him again, because no matter how often she does so they keep ending up close together. "Don't."

"Why not?" His eyes are bright with desire and all the fun that he's having. "No one's looking at us."

And it's true, tucked away as they are in the corner of the room, all the tables and most of the floor space packed with Friday night drinkers.

"I know, but still. There are probably some journalists here and everyone has their phones out. Someone might catch us in the back of one of their selfies."

He looks both skeptical and amused at the same time. "I doubt it, but okay. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I liked it," she admits with a smile.

"I could tell. You tensed up and your breathing changed."

"Did it?"

He smirks and she wants to kiss him so badly she has to grip onto the edge of the table to stop herself. "Yes. I can read you like a book, Livvie."

"Am I a good read?" she asks flirtatiously. If she met any of her friends out here tonight, they wouldn't recognize her.

"The best," he replies, and his deep voice is doing all kinds of things to her. "Endlessly fascinating; a very rare, very special edition. The kind of book you want to drown in. I just… I can't put you down."

He might be the most romantic man on the planet and here she is, unable to properly respond with anything other than her facial expressions. She hopes he can see exactly what that comment means to her; how much she loves him already, in ways she can't even begin to explain yet.

"Can you go and get me another drink please?"

He eyes her half-full Cosmopolitan. "Why?"

"Because if you don't leave right now, I'm going to jump on you and kiss you."

He sits perfectly still, smiling mischievously at her.

"Go!" she pleads, and when he still doesn't move she stands up herself.

"Liv, wait." He takes her arm and forces her to sit down again. "I'll go. It's okay. I know I'm irresistible."

"And annoying."

He squeezes her shoulder as he passes and leans down to whisper: "But mainly irresistible."

And she can't argue with him, because he's fucking gorgeous and he's absolutely right.


By the time she's finished her two cocktails and they're on their way to the restaurant, she's already feeling a little tipsy. She longs for him to put his arm around her waist, or to reach out and hold his hand, but the streets are busy and it's definitely not a good idea.

"We're here," Fitz says at length, drawing her from her daydreams. He leads her into the NoMad Hotel and through the lobby to the restaurant. She's heard rave reviews about this place but she's never eaten here before.

"Good evening," he says to the maître d'. "I have a reservation for Thomas Attaway at seven thirty."

"Certainly Sir. Come this way. Can I take your jackets?"

"Good code name," Olivia murmurs as they're seated at a small table near the back. The restaurant is already full and, thankfully, fairly noisy so they can continue to flirt to their hearts' content.

"What would yours be?" he asks, and she notices the way his gaze falls automatically down to the low cut of her top. If she said she hadn't chosen this outfit with that exact aim in mind, she would be lying.

"Carolyn Thomas."

Fitz blinks. "Really?"

"Yeah," she smiles. "My mom was Maya Thomas before she married my dad. Weird, huh?"

"Yeah," he echoes. "I shouldn't be surprised, though. There are so many parallels in our lives."

"And that's why we're meant to be."

A waiter has arrived but Olivia's gaze remains locked on Fitz's as she takes the proffered menu; she's barely listening as the specials are recited. Fitz is usually the one who makes the big, bold statements but those words just came out and she's not embarrassed: she believes in them more than she's ever believed in anything else.

"Would you like to order any drinks?"

It takes several seconds for either of them to respond. "Can you just give us a few minutes please?" Fitz asks, finally breaking eye contact to smile briefly at the waiter.

"Of course."

He disappears and Fitz reaches for her hand. This time, she lets him touch her. "I think so too," he says, and he's quiet but so sincere. "We are meant to be, Livvie. I'm sure of it."

She links her fingers through his and squeezes gently before letting go. "Good, because you're not getting rid of me. Ever."

His smile mirrors hers. "Good, because I won't ever want to."

Not for the first time, she wants to tell him something else: something she really shouldn't be feeling yet, after just two weeks. She's never been a romantic; never believed in fairytales or love at first sight. But here she is, head-over-heels for this man who she can't even date in public, who can't commit to her because he's already legally committed to someone else. All the facts are telling her they're not ready for more but she doesn't care: every cell in her body knows how she really feels.

She loves him.

She loves him.

And that's the hugest, scariest secret she's ever had to keep, because she can't bring herself to say it just yet. There's a big difference between feeling something and actually admitting it out loud.

"Shall we order wine?" Fitz asks after a minute, looking at her with a patient smile as she sorts through her emotions. He's so good to her, it makes her want to cry.

"Yeah," she breathes, blinking back tears and hoping he hasn't noticed (while knowing he has, because he notices everything). "Red?"

"Of course. Your choice."

They peruse the menu and decide on food before she picks an accompanying wine. Fitz lets her order for them both and she's so full of affection for him she doesn't even mind when his leg deliberately brushes against hers beneath the table.

"This is the best date," she tells him honestly, unable to stop herself from saying it so early in the evening.

"It's barely begun," Fitz counters, giving her his most charming smile. "We haven't even eaten yet, and then there's dessert, and dancing…"

"Really?"

"If you want to."

What she really wants it to get him alone and naked, and they both know it. She shrugs, playing coy. "Maybe."

"Well, I'm not that interested if you're not. I can't dance, as you know. In fact," he leans forward, "maybe I should make it my mission to convince you we shouldn't go out afterwards."

"And how will you do that?"

He grins at her. "Oh, I can be very persuasive."

Forty minutes later they've just finished their main courses and Olivia is so wound up she feels like she's vibrating in her seat. If the way Fitz was staring at her earlier made her hot, now she's positively burning for him. Somehow he managed to lead her into a conversation about what turns her on and it's driven them both towards the edge.

"So to recap," he says huskily, "You want me in sweat pants and a wet t-shirt, my hair messed up, smelling of Hugo Boss and a freshly smoked cigarette with the taste of whiskey on my tongue and looking at you like I suspect I am right now."

"Well, you or any other man," she teases, trying to ignore the image he's created, a summary of everything he's coaxed out of her so far, and the way it stokes the fire deep in her belly.

"And the location of this wild encounter?"

She considers him, sipping her wine. "Don't laugh."

"I wouldn't."

His leg is pressed against hers again and she's longing for more. "In the dark… somewhere outside. Like, an alleyway, but a clean one. Safe." She pauses, trying to gauge his reaction. "Does that sound weird?"

"No." And she believes him, because his eyes are ablaze.

"I just think it would be really sexy to be taken somewhere dark and ravaged against a wall. By you."

"Or any other man," he adds, smirking.

"Well, not any man. I do have some standards."

"Of course."

"What about you?" she asks, nudging his knee with hers. "What turns you on, Fitzy?"

"You," he says without pausing. "How funny and how smart you are. The way you look at me from beneath your eyelashes; when you throw your head back and laugh. White underwear on your beautiful skin, and the way it highlights all your curves. Your taste… even the thought of it. How you feel wrapped around me when I'm bare inside of you."

Olivia is stunned by the clarity of his answer, like he's thought about it a lot - which he probably has, knowing him as she does. "Oh my god," she breathes. "Can we go home now?"

The waiter appears to clear away their plates and they both take a moment to try and collect themselves. She has a drink of her water and then presses the glass to her warm cheeks.

"Would you like any desserts?"

"No," she says as Fitz answers:

"Yes."

"We'll look at the menu, please," he clarifies. He sits forward as the waiter leaves and briefly covers her hand with his. "I want to take you home so badly, but I also don't want this date to end yet. And it is only eight thirty."

"Really?" She glances at his watch and then smiles shyly. "Okay. That's definitely too early. We're too young to be at home before nine on a Friday night."

"Did you just call me young?"

"Yes," she grins. "You're only as old as-"

"-As the woman you feel," he finishes, making her giggle.

"I've never heard that one before."

"You haven't been hanging out with the right people, that's why."

She loves their flirtatious banter. "Who're the right people?

"Me."

And now she's laughing again, tilting her face to the ceiling. "Oh, Fitz, you're ridiculous."

"I know."

She would give almost anything right now to be able to lean across the table and kiss the adorable smile off of his face - and she tells him so.

"I want to do more than kiss you," he responds, his eyes trailing down her body, lingering over her bare chest and the curves of her breasts. He doesn't need to elaborate: she knows exactly what he's thinking.

"I want you to." She lets her own gaze wander over the muscles lying just beneath his tight white shirt, wishing she could run her hands over them.

"Later, sweet baby."

She meets his fiery blue eyes again. "Okay. But not too much later."

They smile at one another. "Deal."


They move to one of the hotel's bars after dessert, a stunning venue with an incredibly long mahogany bar, the wall behind filled floor-to-ceiling with bottles of wine and spirits. The furniture is all antique, the lighting subtle with flickering candles on the low tables. There's some quiet jazz playing in the background and as they sit down next to each other on one of the sofas, Olivia thinks he couldn't have picked a more romantic place to bring her tonight.

Fitz has bought himself a whiskey and she's elected to finish the last of their red from dinner. She's feeling warm, cozy and pleasantly buzzed, but not enough to make her reckless - he can do that all on his own. There's less than a foot between them and the heat of his body is radiating across the space, caressing her bare arm and thigh. She crosses her legs, noticing his gaze following her every movement.

"You are so beautiful," he says softly. "I could sit here and watch you forever."

She's so flattered she can't speak straight away, so she lets the blush on her cheeks and her smile show him how she feels. "You'd get bored," she murmurs eventually.

"Never."

His teeth are so white, so perfectly straight in his gorgeous smile.

"Who made you?" she wonders aloud, making him frown and look amused at the same time.

"My parents, as far as I know."

"Well, they did a good job. You are beyond handsome."

He turns towards her, resting his arm along the back of the sofa so his hand is just behind her neck. "You're beyond cute, sometimes."

She feels his fingers gently touching her hair and has to resist the urge to curl herself into his chest and let him fold her into his embrace. "It's my birthday next Saturday," she tells him, her voice quiet. "I'm going out for dinner with some friends in the evening. Would you like to come too?"

His expression changes and she immediately takes that as a no. Why would he want to hang out with a bunch of mid-twenty-year-olds? But, as usual, he's quick to assure her otherwise.

"I'm not here next weekend, Livvie," he says, lifting her chin with his finger to make her look at him again. "I'm visiting my dad. It's an annual event and I'm expected to be there. Don't you dare think it's because I don't want to."

And she has to smile despite her disappointment, because yet again he's read her so easily. "Okay."

"I would love to celebrate your birthday with you. I'm so sorry."

"No, it's fine. We can do something another day."

"Definitely. I promise I'll make it up to you."

She shakes her head. "Really, Fitz, you don't have to. We have only known each other two weeks."

"Yes, but we know each other," he argues, still smiling. "You know things about me which no one else does. And I know things about you, too. All kinds of secrets."

"Like what?" she asks, leaning towards him as she feels herself falling even deeper in love with him.

"Like where to kiss you to make you melt beneath me. How to take your breath away. How to make you come apart, over and over again."

He's not lying - he is an expert in all those things, far more so than any man she's ever been with before - and suddenly the entire evening catches up with her all at once. She's aware that there are people all around them but she can't stop herself from running the tips of her fingers over his abs, hoping they're hidden in the dim light. "Take me home, Fitz," she whispers. Her mouth isn't far from his now, drawn together by the familiar, invisible force which constantly surrounds them.

"It's only nine thirty."

"I don't care."

He considers her for the briefest second before sitting forward and downing the last of his scotch. "You do realize this means I win, right?" he says as he stands up, offering her his hand. "We're going home instead of dancing."

"Again, I don't care."

Fitz looks surprised at her tone but she can't explain or apologize - she's just so desperate to wrap her arms around his body and feel his hardness and his heat pressed up against her. She leads them outside, hyperaware of his presence just inches behind her.

"I suppose we're going wherever is nearest?" he says with a smirk. "Which would be mine, I think."

"Yes. I take it your friend is away?"

"He sure is."

She hails a cab almost immediately. "Good. Then let's go."


Fitz manages to get her into Henry's house before the kissing starts and once it does, it doesn't stop. He leads her into the darkness, in the vague direction of the kitchen; their progress is slow because she's walking backwards and they're so tightly entwined it's difficult to take very big steps. He manages to switch on the under-cabinet lights as they pass and they rid each other of their jackets, dropping them carelessly to the floor. They continue on until her back hits the kitchen counter and he holds her there, exploring every corner of her sweet mouth. He's patient, despite everything that's happened this evening; despite the fire which is burning inside of him, urging him to consume her. They have all the time in the world and he wants to take it slow tonight, to really worship her as she deserves.

His hands drop to her thighs and he pushes up her skirt until he can lift her onto the counter. Her legs immediately wrap around his waist, bringing her core into direct contact with his straining erection, causing a surge of heat in his blood. Her breath caresses his lips as she moans and her hands grab his ass, urging him even closer.

"Want you," she murmurs, grinding her hips torturously against him.

His own hands increase their grip on her ribcage, the tips of his fingers caressing her bare skin where it meets the material of her top. She's so soft, so delicate, so perfect. His thumbs brush over her nipples, hard beneath her clothes, and she trembles in his arms. He unfastens her strapless bra and they break apart for a second as he removes it, throwing it onto the tiles.

"Fitz," she says, breathing hard, her eyes hazy with desire.

"Yes?"

He watches as she slides one strap of her top down her arm and off, followed by the other. The loose material immediately drops to her waist, leaving her bare and heavenly before him.

"Oh baby," he groans. He can't help but drop his head and take her right nipple into his mouth, sucking on her tender flesh, making her cry out and grab onto his hair. He plays with her other breast too, swirling his tongue over her until he can't wait any longer: he has to trail his lips lower, unable to resist the call of the haven between her thighs.

He's almost there when she stops him, tugging on his curls. "Not here," she says, panting. "Not in your friend's kitchen. In fact I think you should call him, make sure it's okay for me to stay over."

Fitz stands upright again, looking at her in disbelief. In less than five seconds he's gone from almost having her in his mouth to suddenly needing permission to continue. "Seriously?"

She lifts up her top, covering herself again, and nods. She's smiling but she looks determined. "Mm hmm."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "This is ridiculous. He won't mind."

"Well, I'd like to know if my friend was going to fuck someone in my house."

"What if he doesn't answer?" Fitz is trying to remember where Henry is at the moment - Bolivia, maybe? - but it's difficult with the lower half of Olivia's body still pressed firmly against his.

She considers him for a moment, assessing their current situation. "Then at least you can say you tried," she concludes, and he knows he doesn't have any other choice in the matter.

Henry answers on the third ring and it's one of the most bizarre conversations Fitz has ever had. "Hey buddy. How are you?" He continues on before his friend really has chance to answer, hoping to make this as short as possible. "Listen, quick question. How do you feel about sleepovers?"

He's watching Olivia as he speaks: she's smirking, clearly amused by how uncomfortable he is.

"Are we there already?" Henry asks, knowing instantly what he's referring to.

"We are."

"Good for you, man. And it depends: is she pretty?"

Fitz smiles. "Very."

"Let me say hi." His friend has always been the ultimate charmer.

He puts his phone on speaker and introduces them. "This is Olivia. Olivia, Henry."

"Hey, Henry. Nice to… meet you."

"Hey Olivia, you too. Well, she sounds pretty."

This makes her giggle and Fitz frowns as he returns the phone to his ear again. "Enough of that," he says sternly but Henry only laughs. Meanwhile Olivia, knowing they have the landlord's consent to carry on, lets her top fall down again and begins to unbutton his shirt.

"I have to go," he says hoarsely, his gaze fixated on her bare breasts.

"I'm sure you do. Just keep your dirty stuff out of my bed, okay?"

"Of course."

He drops his phone onto the counter and lifts her into his arms, making her squeal. "You are a very naughty girl."

"Am I?" She's playing coy and it's making him crazy.

"You are. It makes me want to bend you over and fuck you - hard."

She kisses him so fiercely that he has to stand still so he doesn't lose his balance. "Fuck me then," she says against his lips. "Now."

He remembers to grab the condoms from his jacket pocket before he carries her upstairs to his room, setting her down on the bed and switching on the lamp. She's gazing up at him with so much longing that he strips off his clothes straight away and kneels on the floor in front of her to remove her heels. Then he slides his hands over the silky smooth skin of her bare legs, all the way to her skirt which she helps him unzip at the back. She lifts her hips so he can pull it off along with her thong and her top, and no matter how many times he's seen her naked body, she continues to takes his breath away.

Their eyes finally meet and Olivia reaches for him, lifting his face to hers, entangling their tongues once again. He rises, laying her back on the mattress and then beginning to kiss his way downwards. This time when he gets to her center there are no distractions and he pushes her thighs apart so he can finally taste her, burying his tongue in her with a helpless groan. She writhes beneath him as he licks her, her sounds filling the air all around them. She's sweet and salty and so unbelievably wet for him, and he's not sure how much longer he can wait to fuck her.

"Fitz," she gasps, her toes curling into his back where her legs are draped over his shoulders. "Don't stop. I'm so- so close."

He lifts his hands to her breasts, alternately kneading them and rolling her nipples between his fingers, and it's not long before she's shaking and swearing and…

"Oh my- fuck- oh god!"

She's so loud as she comes and he loves hearing her let go, embracing her pleasure. He places several kisses on her lower abdomen, humming against her skin before he moves away to put on a condom, giving her a moment to recover.

"You okay?" he asks, smiling down at her, because she's struggling to open her eyes.

"Yeah," she sighs, her hand resting on her chest; he watches as it rises and falls with every breath she takes. "So good."

"Good."

Fitz sits with his back against the headboard and waits until she's ready to come to him, which doesn't take long at all. She crawls up the bed and he holds her waist as she straddles him, sinking straight down onto his cock. The way she feels around him… it just gets better every single time. They share a smile and she shifts her position slightly, taking him in even further. She kisses him and runs her fingers through his hair as his travel up and down her spine, leaving shivers in their wake.

"Look," he says, gesturing to the built-in mirrored wardrobes on his right, her left. Their gazes meet in the glass and he sees hers run over their reflection. "I love your skin, Livvie. It's so beautiful."

"Thank you." They both watch as his hands continue to caress her, such a striking contrast in color between them. "We look good together, don't we?" she asks.

"We look great," he clarifies.

They turn back to face each other again and her lips curve into a smile as she begins to move above him. She takes her time, riding him slowly, alternating between grazing her breasts against his chest and leaning down to press her mouth to his. Fitz holds onto her hips and lets her take him all the way to the edge, every so often allowing his gaze wander back to the mirror. Watching them together is so sexy, especially when she starts to go faster, to whisper to him that she wants him to come for her. With all the simmering tension of the evening and the fact he's absolutely infatuated with her, he gladly obliges just minutes later.

She holds him as he calms, kissing his ear, his cheek. "I'd like to add mirrors to my list of turn-ons," she murmurs, giggling, and he feels his rumbling laughter vibrate through his body and into hers.

"Me too."

He looks at her for the longest moment, overcome with love for her. He's been so close to telling her several times recently, but he's managed to hold his tongue. It's a scary thing to admit, although he suspects she would say it back just as readily. He never thought it was possible to fall in love so fast, to feel so sure - but then again, he'd never met Olivia Pope before, the one girl he knows he is destined to be with.

"You are amazing," he tells her instead, hoping to convey all his affection for her into that one adjective when really, he could use a hundred and never come close to describing how perfect she is.

"So are you," she replies, her voice full of emotion, and he knows she's understood what he's really trying to say; that she's saying it straight back.

Fitz kisses her then, their eyes open as they share every single piece of themselves. He knows all her secrets and she knows all of his. He knows what turns her on and so does she.

Most importantly of all, he knows they're meant to be - and that he'll continue to fall in love with her over and over again, every day for the rest of their lives.