A/N: I can't believe it's been five months since I last updated. I think about this story all the time; write scenes in my head as I'm falling asleep, trying to switch off my brain. Life is so busy right now but I'm so glad I could finish this today for those of you who are still out there, asking for updates and leaving reviews. Thank you so much. I really hope you like this.

Next up will be Christmas with our favorite couple, but I don't know when. Hopefully before this actual Christmas comes around!


Chapter 31 - You Wanted To See Me, Boss?

The run-up to Christmas is hectic for Olivia. Her work for the UN is pretty much tied up for the year but she has events most days: supporting her charities (food kitchens, fundraisers); glamorous parties to promote her name, her cause. Most of it was booked into her schedule months ago, long before Fitz - who subsequently came along and changed everything. Now, all she wants to do is stay home and spend time with him: snuggling down on cold evenings, browsing for nursery furniture online; sharing long, hot baths together and planning for their baby, their future. It's taken her several days to realize what this all means: that her nesting instinct has well and truly kicked in.

And she loves it.

Of course, she would never actually cancel an event - she would hate to let anyone down. But part of her aches at the thought of spending so much time away from her man. Part of her gets left behind whenever she has to leave him.

And physically leaving is harder now, too. Since their relationship was revealed at the weekend, the paparazzi have been camped outside her building day and night. Leon and the concierge team are really helpful, sneaking her and Fitz out the back entrance whenever they can and looking after the security guys Harrison hired to stand permanent vigil by the doors. He wanted Olivia to have a personal bodyguard too, but she refused - mainly because she doesn't want a stranger following her around, listening to her every word. Hiding her pregnancy is difficult enough already without having to worry what she says to Fitz, to her friends.

She has told her stylist Rebecca, though. She had to: with so many events to attend, the poor woman was trying to find Olivia two or three outfits for each day to match her very specific demands, and she realized everything would be much easier if she just told the truth. They've worked together many times over the past eighteen months, and Olivia trusts her.

She invited her over for lunch on Monday, in the heat of the paparazzi storm just a day after her and Fitz's outing for coffee. Rebecca spent a long time quizzing her about their relationship and gushing over how happy they seemed together.

"Girl, you are so loved up. The smile on your face says it all."

"There may be another reason behind that," Olivia said slowly, and her smile grew even wider as she stood up from the sofa and lifted her sweater, revealing her baby bump to her friend. "I'm almost four months pregnant."

Rebecca actually screamed.

The memory still makes Olivia laugh.

So, with her stylist now onboard and frantically finding and altering outfits to disguise her changing body, she has one big hurdle left to surmount this week - her father.

She meets him on Wednesday evening, for an early dinner before a charity cocktail party (which gives her an easy get-out clause if things turn ugly). He's already seated when she arrives at the restaurant, and she's surprised to see him smiling as he stands to greet her. She'd been preparing for a battle; had convinced herself he would have a problem with her dating Fitz. But he seems genuinely pleased to be there with her, and it knocks her off balance.

"Olivia. You look wonderful."

"Hi Dad." She kisses his cheek, giving him a quick hug. He pulls out her chair for her, and as she sits down she subtly pulls at the black-and-white pattern of her Stella McCartney shift dress, making sure it's loose and not clinging to her abdomen. When her father takes his seat again she asks how he is, her voice tentative.

"I'm okay, thank you," he replies evenly. "A little concerned, I have to admit, but otherwise okay."

A terrible feeling of guilt suddenly hits her. She should have told him about Fitz before the weekend. That would have been the right thing to do.

"What are you concerned about?" she asks, as casually as she can. And then, because she's so nervous and because everything she could possibly say has been building up inside of her for weeks now, she carries on talking before she can stop herself. "My relationship with Fitz? The fact that he's married; older than me? That he's the rich, privileged son of a Republican? That he's white?"

Jesus. She's only been here a minute and she's already lost control of her emotions. Her father just has this way of unsettling her; has done for as long as she can remember.

Eli is frowning, contemplating her, but they're interrupted by a waitress before he can reply. "Good evening Sir, Madam. May I show you tonight's menu?"

They make small talk and listen to the specials, Olivia's foot tapping anxiously on the floor the entire time. She barely even notices her dad's look of surprise when she declines red wine for water. Eventually, when they're alone again, he sits forward and fixes her with his customary gaze: intense and unreadable.

"What concerns me most of all, Olivia, is that you didn't think you could talk to me about this."

She blinks, stunned.

He continues: "It's 2014. I know I can't tell you who to date."

"So, you're not worried about those things?"

"Of course I am."

She sighs - it was too good to be true. Eli goes on: "He's a married man. That makes him an adulterer."

"I know."

"And he's so much older than you."

"I know."

"And-"

"Dad. Stop it."

They stare at one another. Olivia's heart is racing. Even for a million dollars, she couldn't describe how she's feeling right now.

"This is going to take me a while to process," her father admits.

She looks down at her water glass, running her finger through the condensation on the outside. "I'm happy," she says quietly. "Does that make a difference?"

"Of course it does. But I don't want to see you get hurt again. Surely you can understand that, after what happened last time?"

That makes her smile. It's so ironic: he's worried about Fitz because of all the things she mentioned, when Edison was 'perfect' for her on paper - and he ruined her.

"Do you know why I was so scared to tell you?" she asks seriously, meeting her father's eyes again. "Do you know why I canceled breakfast last weekend; why I decided to let you find out from the media instead of from me?

"Because Fitz is… he's The One." Her voice is soft, full of emotion. "He's my soulmate. I knew it the moment we met, and so did he. Everything else is irrelevant to us. And he's done the right thing, regarding his wife. He's always been honorable, even when she wasn't - because that's who he is, Dad. He's kind, and caring, and honest. He's so much more than a list of his circumstances, which I knew you'd disapprove of because I know you.

"And so I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to come along and destroy my happiness. I deserve to be this happy. I deserve to be loved like Fitz loves me."

Those final words - unbidden and unplanned - really hit home. What a change from the girl she was earlier this year, the girl broken by Edison Davies. Surely her father can sense that?

He'd watched her intently while she was speaking, and she knows he was listening hard to what she was saying. Now, he sits back in his chair and lets out a long, slow breath. "Olivia Carolyn. You're my daughter; my only child. I would never do anything to deliberately hurt you, or make you unhappy. You do know that, don't you?"

Are those tears in his eyes, or is it just the lighting? Either way, the pained look on his face brings tears to her eyes, too.

"I know."

And she does. He's strict, pushy; his expectations have always been sky-high. But she understands that it was his way of bringing out the best in her; of making sure she had all the opportunities that are so often denied to young black women, and men, and people from all minorities. He only ever wanted the world for her.

He only ever did it out of love.

"So," he goes on, and his moment of vulnerability seems to have passed - but Olivia is sure it was real. "What is Fitz doing for Christmas?"

Before she can answer, he's already continuing: "Would you like to invite him over for the day?"

And she was going to ask anyway - had been wondering how she'd phrase the question, whether this dinner went well or not, because she wants to spend the holiday with the two most important people in her life - but to hear her father make the offer is more than she could ever have hoped for.

"Dad. I would. Thank you."

He reaches for her hand, covers it with his. "Good. I look forward to meeting the man who has put the smile back on your beautiful face."

She beams at him. "He has. He's amazing."

"I'm sorry I judged him so harshly." He squeezes her fingers before letting go. "It has always been one of my greatest flaws. Your mother used to admonish me all the time. I can only imagine how much of a better man I'd be today if she was still here."

"I think she'd be proud of us right now," Olivia says, looking at her dad with newfound respect. He really is trying. She hasn't felt this close, this connected to him since - well, since she can remember. It's almost enough to make her confess her other secret: the one about the baby growing inside her; the little bump he'd see beneath her dress if she pulled the fabric tight.

But she doesn't - not yet. She needs to process tonight first; they both do. She doesn't want to put too much on him at once and risk destroying all the progress they've just made. He's too important to her to lose again, especially when she feels like she's only just getting him back after years of distance.

One step at a time.

"She would be proud," Eli says now, oblivious to the thoughts running through his daughter's mind. And then he leads the conversation down a different path, and they're back to normality but Olivia's heart is a hundred times lighter. "I lit a candle for her on Thanksgiving, alone in Berlin. Somewhere she'd always wanted to go. Did you?"

"I did. I was with Fitz, actually. He lost his mom too…"


Olivia is photographed with Fitz several times that week, some planned and some not. Leaving her apartment together in the mornings; meeting near his office for lunch; attending the cocktail party after her dinner with her father. She tells him all about it once they're inside the venue and her relief is palpable. So is his.

"Baby I'm so glad," he says, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Now that they're out in the open, she can't stop him from showering her with affection in public - and she doesn't want to. "You're so much more relaxed already. And so gorgeous."

He kisses her slowly, waiting until she lets herself surrender and then withdrawing, lips curved in a smirk. "Calm down Livvie. We've only just arrived."

She sighs, instinctively pressing herself further into his warm, solid body. "I don't care. I missed you all day. I want you."

"And you can have me… later."

The next two hours fly by. As soon as they get home, to a mercifully paparazzi-free street, Fitz keeps his promise.

Twice.

The following day, a week before Christmas, she's out shopping with Abby. It's a nightmare, the streets and stores packed, but at least they can get lost in the crowds and avoid any lurking photographers. Olivia has already bought most of her gifts online, so she only needs to get a few stocking fillers for Fitz and her dad. Abby on the other hand, forever disorganized, is trying to find something for almost everyone she knows.

They eventually stop for lunch around two PM. They've already dissected her date with Henry the previous night: the dinner he cooked for her at his house; the bar her took her to afterwards with the best espresso martinis she'd ever had, and a live blues band who were phenomenal. The second time he dropped her off at her apartment without a kiss or an invitation inside; how they texted until three in the morning and she had to fight all her instincts to call and tell him to get a taxi over immediately.

"I really like him," she admits over their salads and fresh juices, and Olivia can't stop smiling.

"I can tell. You haven't talked about anything else all day."

Abby rolls her eyes, trying and failing to disguise her embarrassment. "Whatever."

"Don't be like that. It's sweet."

"What happened to us? We used to be these two badass girls, taking New York by storm. Now I'm obsessing over a guy after one date and you're fucking living with the man of your dreams - and expecting his child!"

Olivia laughs, subconsciously moving her palm to her abdomen, stroking her thumb back and forth there. Fortunately they're sitting in a booth at the far side of the restaurant, out of sight and earshot of the other diners around.

"We are still badass," she counters. "My body is growing another human being - that's the most incredible thing in the world. It's so badass. Men can't do that. If they had to go through pregnancy, with the nausea and the mood swings and god knows what else I have ahead of me, we'd have all died out millennia ago."

"True."

"And you, Abigail Whelan… When was the last time you lost a case?"

Her friend purses her lips, trying not to smile. "February. But I'm part of a team; it's not just me."

"Come on, we both know you're indispensable. You're in that office all the time. And you did all that work on Jonathan Miers for us. And you still find time to look after yourself and be my best, most supportive friend."

Abby is truly smiling now. "God, Liv, you're getting worse every day."

"I know. Just learn to deal with it, okay?"

"Okay." They lift their glasses and silently toast one another. "So," Abby goes on, "Where to next? Do you need sexy new lingerie for your first Christmas with your man?"

Olivia frowns. She hadn't really thought about it. "I don't know. Do I?"

Abby asks a passing waiter for the check, then turns back to her with an amused expression. "If you're asking me that, you definitely do."

"Abs, I can't just go and try on lingerie in a boutique. I'm already a different bra size. My whole body is different. It will be so obvious."

"Well, you'll just have to do what us mere mortals do."

"What's that?"

"Join the queue for the fitting rooms in Bloomingdale's."


Olivia gets chance to wear some of her new underwear for Fitz on Friday night, at his work Christmas party. The previous evening they've both been out at different events, and she was so exhausted she'd fallen asleep before he arrived home.

She has another function to attend first, for one of the charities she supports, so she doesn't show up at his office until gone nine PM. She calls him when she's outside the building and he meets her at the side door, letting her in from the cold. The foyer is huge, high-ceilinged; there are two security staff sitting at a desk nearby but Fitz takes her hand and leads her towards the bank of elevators, around the fifteen-foot Christmas tree in the center of the space. When they're on the other side of it, hidden from view, he finally stands still and looks at her - and his adoring smile warms her body, her soul.

Then she slips off her coat and watches his gaze darken as it roams over her. His muscles seem to tighten, as if he's suddenly more alert. It's adrenaline; arousal in all senses of the word.

"Wow, Livvie."

This is her second outfit of the evening, quickly changed at home on her way here. If photos from this party end up online, which she suspects they will, she knows she can't be seen in the same ensemble twice in one night. It's just not the done thing. Besides, Rebecca has sourced some gorgeous pieces for her and she's excited to wear them all.

This dress is no exception: a black Anna Sui number, with a small top section just covering her boobs, thin straps over her shoulders, then a wide skirt with layers of tulle embroidered with black stars. She's wearing sheer stockings and suspenders (which Fitz doesn't know about yet), and Gianvito Rossi pumps with a gold toe and dark green, suede heel, matching her gold jewelry and sparkling emerald eyeliner.

"Will I do?" she asks cheekily, twirling around. As soon as she's facing him again, he's pulling her against him with one strong arm and lifting her chin so he can kiss her. She can taste scotch on his tongue as he devours her, as she falls into him. The things he can do to her with only his mouth…

He is just so sexy.

"Fuck," he sighs eventually, breathing hard. His eyes are a dangerous shade of blue, his left hand holding her jaw in that subconscious, controlling way he has which pushes every single one of her buttons. "I feel like I've seen you in ten different outfits this week, and each one has just blown me away."

"Mm." She subtly moves her hips against his, her hands squeezing his deliciously-sculpted butt. "I aim to please."

Fitz palms her breasts, making her gasp, and leans down to kiss the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. "So do I, sweet baby," he murmurs. "Always."

This isn't just teasing: this is foreplay, plain and simple. It is in no way appropriate for the lobby of his building, or in the minutes before they have to go upstairs and socialize with the entirety of his staff. But does she care? Can she, when he makes her feel this good; when her hormones are wild, rampaging through her body, leaving her utterly insatiable?

The answer is no, of course. She doesn't care at all.

Fortunately, Fitz can usually control himself enough to step back, to make it through to the time they can finally be alone together. But even that in itself is hot: there's always tension in his muscles, fire in his eyes. Knowing he's going about his day while constantly thinking about her naked, pressed up against him, riding him until he loses his fucking mind… Anticipating the moment she gets to have him to herself and how his passion just erupts from him in a frenzy of bruising kisses and impatient hands and his hard, hard body on hers…

Basically, she's turned on all the time.

Basically, she wants to stay here in this phase of her life forever: where their relationship is still new and exhilarating; where she's in her second trimester and feeling great and still capable of doing everything she wants to. She's always been forward-thinking; a planner. But without even trying, Fitz has made her live in the moment, and she is so grateful for that. She cherishes every second with him, every day that her child stays snug and safe inside her womb. Everything she's read about pregnancy has warned her how quickly it goes by, and then how her baby will grow so fast until suddenly they're at kindergarten, high school, college

Planning all of that is impossible. She'd go mad.

At least now, she only goes mad with lust.

"We should head up," Fitz says, drawing her out of her thoughts. "Everyone is dying to meet you."

He moves his hands from her chest, around her ribcage and down her back, holding her close. The way he smiles, so lovingly, makes her heart constrict.

"Okay. We're gonna continue this later though, right?"

"Oh, you bet."

She nuzzles her nose against his. "Good."

After a beat, she steps back and links her fingers through his. As he leads her to the elevators, he asks about her evening.

"It was fun, my speech went well. Danika was there. She says hi."

Fitz frowns as he presses the button for the twenty-first floor. "Is it really only a week since we went to the Rockefeller Center? It feels like a month ago."

"I know. It means we're one week closer to meeting little Baby G though."

He kisses her as he places his hand on her abdomen, its gentle swell disguised by layers of material. "One week closer," he echoes, his excitement palpable. "I love you."

The elevator dings, signaling their arrival. "I love you too," Olivia smiles, pressing one last kiss to his lips before separating herself from him as the doors open.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting, having never been to his office before, but it wasn't this: the huge open-plan space looks like Santa's grotto has been hired out for a rave. There are Christmas decorations everywhere, UV lights roaming back and forth over reams of neon streamers adorning the ceiling, and a clearing in the center of the desks which is acting as a dancefloor - and already packed. Festive music is blaring from somewhere and there must be about a hundred people there, the ones who aren't dancing standing around in groups or by the long row of tables against the far wall which are piled high with food and drink.

"Oh my god," she says, stunned, and Fitz grins at her.

"Not your average office party, right? I told you it would beat your expectations."

"It's… insane. Who organized all this?"

"Emmanuelle, from accounting. She chooses a different theme every year. This is 'rave', as you can see."

He points to one of the many Christmas trees around the enormous room, this one spray-painted fluorescent orange and hung with psychedelic baubles. Looking more closely, Olivia can see that a lot of the guests are wearing glowsticks for jewelry alongside their cocktail dresses and smart suits; some even have rave paint dotted in patterns on their faces.

"It's compulsory," Fitz says when she turns back to him, and he's holding out a packet of glow bracelets - the ones that snap and light up - and a small tube of neon yellow paint.

"Where's yours?" she counters, looking him up and down. His black pants, jacket and pristine white shirt are not exactly on brief.

"Ah. Well, as the boss, I got mine bought for me last week." He untucks a corner of his shirt and shows her the waistband of his boxers - which are bright pink.

She can't help but laugh. "Wow, babe. Your staff buy you underwear?"

"Every year. It's become a tradition. Last Christmas the theme was superheroes - that's why I have those Batman ones at home."

"Ah. I did wonder."

He leans in close to her ear. "I'm not really Batman," he whispers, like a confession, and it makes her giggle.

"Damn. I might have to leave you, then."

He puts his arm around her waist, pulling her tightly into his side. "Nope. You're not allowed to. Now, can I get my beautiful date a drink before she threatens to break up with me again?"

Before she can reply, they're interrupted by a familiar voice: James, returning from what Olivia assumes must be the bathroom. "Who's breaking up? Surely not my favorite couple?"

"Hey!" She accepts his warm hug. "Of course we're not breaking up. How are you?"

"I am… quite drunk, if I'm honest." He points his finger at Fitz. "That punch is lethal. Who made it?"

"Emmanuelle, I think."

"Well, it should be illegal. As the owner of this establishment, I'm holding you personally responsible."

Fitz just looks amused. "You're a grown man. You made a choice, my friend. You don't have to drink it."

"Oh, but it's so delicious. Want some?" He holds out his cup to Olivia, but before she can decline he seems to remember that she's pregnant. "Whoops. Maybe not. How are you doing, darling?"

He looks her up and down, clearly trying to discern if she's changed in any way since he last saw her.

"I'm good," she says fondly, spotting Cyrus heading their way. "Still hiding my little bump from the world, but feeling good."

"Liv." Fitz's second-in-command greets her with a kiss on each cheek. "Good to see you."

"You too."

And it seems like word is spreading that she's arrived, because more and more faces are turning towards them. Fitz notices too.

"Right," he says, taking her hand, "I think I need to introduce you to some people. Cy, would you mind getting me and Liv a drink? It might take us a while to make it across the room."

"Of course. What would you like?"

"I'll have a scotch please, and there's some non-alcoholic wine in my office if you'd like some, baby?"

She nods. "Yes please. Thanks Cyrus."

"No problem. Come on," he says to his fiancé. "Let's get you some water."

Over the course of the next hour, Fitz introduces her to almost everyone there. He's clearly good friends with all of his employees and even knows most of their partners too. His secretary, Charlotte, and her husband are both lovely. Fitz explains that she has spent her week fielding calls from the press; in fact, Olivia learns that the whole company has been pestered by journalists.

"I'm so sorry," she says, and she means it - but Charlotte shakes her head.

"Don't be. Fitz warned us on Monday morning that this would happen. We just say, 'no comment', like your PR team instructed. And don't worry - I don't believe any employee would speak out against our boss. He's far too kind, too generous."

She nudges Fitz with her elbow and they share a friendly grin. "Aw Char, don't make me blush," he says playfully, putting his arm around her shoulder. "I can't handle it when you're nice to me."

"It's only because it's Christmas," she retorts. "Don't get used to it."

When the two men end up in a different conversation, Charlotte whispers to her: "I don't know what you've done, Olivia, but he has been so happy these past few months. I was really worried about him before. So… I guess I just want to say thank you. He's my friend as well as my boss, and I care about him a lot."

Olivia doesn't know how to respond to that, so she just smiles. And feels desperately sad that her beautiful man used to be so miserable, but also endlessly grateful that they found - and saved - each other.

Shortly afterwards, Fitz excuses them and they come across Emmanuelle, the infamous party planner. She has braided neon pink strands into her hair and her dark skin is covered in intricate patterns of multicolored paint which glows beneath the UV light. She greets Olivia with a fierce hug and asks her questions at a million miles an hour, until Fitz has to tell her to calm down.

"Sorry boss," she grins. "I'm just slightly in love with your girlfriend. I don't think you know what it means to women like me to see Olivia Pope out there in the world, spreading her black girl magic."

Olivia has heard that from strangers before but it still makes her feel the same way it did the very first time: humbled, and proud, and determined.

"By the way," Emmanuelle goes on, "Where's your rave paint girl? Didn't Fitz tell you the theme is non-negotiable?"

Olivia laughs. "I only found out when I arrived, but he's got some for me in his pocket. I'll go put it on soon, I promise."

"Okay. You'd better. I don't care how pristine and expensive your make up is. We're here to party!"

"You've been told," Fitz murmurs, amused, when Emmanuelle eventually heads back to the dancefloor.

"I like her," Olivia replies, smiling. "I want to be her friend."

"I don't think you'll have a problem there. She hasn't stopped asking me about you all week."

After he's given her a tour of the floor, including his office, Cyrus's and the boardroom, all of which have huge windows and amazing city views, James finds her again and she ends up separated from Fitz for a while. He seems to be so well respected by his staff, mingling with all of them, laughing along so easily. She even talks to people who have traveled from his other US offices, their flights and accommodation paid for by the company so they can join the celebrations too.

No matter what Emmanuelle says about her, Olivia decides that Fitz is truly the most inspirational person in this room.


It's nearing midnight and the party is showing no signs of slowing down. After finally applying some of the bright yellow paint to her face - a curved line of dots along her left cheekbone, across the bridge of her nose and then arching over her right eyebrow - Olivia has been dancing with Emmanuelle and some of her colleagues, and thoroughly enjoying herself. Most of the events she's gone to this week have been much more formal. Fitz doesn't join them, despite how hard some of his staff try to persuade him, but she senses his gaze on her from time to time and whenever she turns to look at him, there's unmistakable desire in his eyes. She's brave enough - and everyone else is drunk enough - to really move her hips, to accentuate the curves of her body in time with the beat. And she knows he wants her. He's definitely thinking about her naked. It's so obvious, she doesn't know how the people around her seem oblivious to it.

After a while, he disappears. When five minutes have passed and he hasn't come back, Olivia stops for a glass of water and checks her phone. There's a text from him:

My office. Now.

She looks around. No one is paying her any attention.

She slips away - initially to the restroom where she wipes off her face paint, then to his office. In the relative darkness outside, away from the UV lights, the first thing she notices is that he's closed all the blinds. And then she steps inside, and she's greeted by a sight she'll never forget.

In the lamplight her gorgeous man, all soft brown curls and electric blue eyes, is reclining in his big leather chair behind his desk. He's taken off his jacket: now the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, the white cotton pulled tight over the muscles of his chest and shoulders. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, his left hand cradling a glass of scotch while his right supports his chin as he surveys her with the most devilish smirk she's ever seen.

He's a predator, assessing his prey.

And instantly, she knows what is going to happen. It's predictable; inevitable. But that doesn't make it any less thrilling. It doesn't stop the rush that squeezes her from head to toe; the lust that finally lands, hot and molten, in her core.

When she speaks, her voice is already husky - both deliberately and not. "You wanted to see me… Boss?"

His eyes widen; darken. He glances at the door and she lets it close behind her; reaches out to lock it, moving as slowly as she can. Teasing him. When she looks back, biting her bottom lip, he shifts in his chair and she knows he's already hard.

Her desire grows.

"Good girl," he murmurs. "Now, come and sit down."

He gestures to the chair opposite, but instead she approaches his desk and stands to the side, shamelessly checking him out. Sure enough, he's already fully erect, his cock tenting his pants. He must have been sitting here, nursing a hard-on, while he waited for her.

And she finds that so sexy.

She slips off her heels; looks behind her, pretending to consider his offer, and then moves between his legs and lifts herself onto the edge of his desk instead. She puts her stockinged feet on the seat of his chair, tucked in beside his thighs. Now she can smell the leather, and the warmth of his body and the scent of his skin, and she's wetter than ever. Craving him.

He looks her up and down again; gets distracted by her chest, by her boobs which seem to be growing by the day. He doesn't touch her but god, she wants him to.

"I have a problem, Olivia."

Her toes flex involuntarily against his legs, betraying her desperation to touch him, too - but she won't. Not until he makes the first move.

"Oh really?" she breathes.

"There's this girl at my party… she's smoking hot… so beautiful." He takes a sip of his drink, not breaking eye-contact. "I just… I can't stop staring at her. I want her."

Olivia's heart is pounding. She's so turned on she can barely sit still. "She sounds amazing. What else about her makes you hard?"

He groans. She doesn't often talk dirty; saves it for special occasions like this, or when she just can't help herself.

"She's smart. Curious. Funny in all sorts of ways."

"Good ways?"

"Mostly."

She frowns at him and he smiles, but it quickly fades. This isn't the time for light, flirty banter; this is heavy, guttural, throbbing. Ancient incantations. Two lovers under a deepening spell.

"I think she's hiding something," Fitz says, his baritone vibrating against his ribcage. "I think she has a secret."

This again. This thrilling upside to keeping her pregnancy hidden: that he finds it thoroughly arousing.

"Sounds intriguing."

Olivia watches as he leans away to place his tumbler on the floor. Then he raises his hands: holds them millimeters away from her legs, keeping her waiting for what feels like an agonizing amount of time, before he finally touches her. Lightly slides his palms up and down her calves. Sends a cacophony of sensations through her highly-sensitized nerve endings, all the way to her brain and back into her body like a flood.

Fitz feels it too - she can tell. Shifts his hips again. "I want to know what her secret is," he goes on, and she realizes how heavily she's breathing, audible even over the faded music coming from outside.

"Maybe you should ask her," she whispers, subtly moving her own hips, trying to ease some of the heat. "She might show you, if you're lucky."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll make her show me. I'll tease that secret out of her. I have a plan."

His eyes, when he looks directly into hers, are almost black. He's bare. Wide open. Unashamed.

He lifts her feet onto the armrests of his chair, spreading her legs apart. His hands slide higher, pushing all the layers of her skirt up towards her waist. When he discovers the lace of her stockings, the suspenders, he makes a pained noise deep in his chest.

"Jesus."

Olivia can't speak: not with his fingers caressing her thighs, so close to her center, in this crazily erotic position on his desk.

"Shall I tell you my plan?" Fitz asks quietly, and his voice is rougher now than it's ever been before.

She nods; leans back on her hands, arching her spine, semi-consciously pushing out her chest. She hopes he'll notice, that he'll pay attention to her tight, aching breasts - but he doesn't. Not yet. He's far too preoccupied with what lies below her waist.

"I'm going to spread her out right here… completely naked."

As he talks he starts to unclip her suspenders, then takes his time sliding her stockings down her legs, kissing her smooth skin as he goes. Every caress of his lips, particularly along her inner calves, makes her shiver; adds fuel to the fire burning inside.

"I'm going to taste her," he continues matter-of-factly, with a confidence that is unbelievably hot. "I'm going to bury my face between her gorgeous legs and lick her out. I'm going to make her come right here, screaming my name. And then every time I'm sat here at work I'll remember how she looked, how she smelled, how fucking good she tasted…"

Now he's biting on her inner thigh and Olivia's head falls back as she lets out a loud, uncontrollable moan. She feels so weakened by him that her shoulders can no longer support her; her elbows bend, so she's resting on her forearms.

And still, he's barely touched her.

She senses him stand up and manages to open her eyes, to look at him again. An understanding passes between them: this is going to happen. It's going to happen right here on this desk.

"Are you sure?" Olivia manages to utter, even as his palms meet the creases of her hips. "At your work?"

"Oh, I'm sure." He presses his thumb against her clit, just briefly; then pulls her toward him, replacing his thumb with the rock solidness of his erection. She cries out both times. Needs him - right now.

"I've thought of nothing else all evening," Fitz says sincerely. "Besides, I can't stop now. I can't… Can you?"

She holds his gaze; her breath. She knows he can read her answer in her eyes so she doesn't say anything. Instead she sits up and lifts the skirt of her dress, freeing it from beneath her so he can help her take it off. She's never wanted to kiss someone so badly before in all her life but she can't, because he's just standing there, looking at her body.

Drowning in her.

"Fitz," she whimpers, reaching for him, because she can hardly wait a second longer. She tries to unfasten his belt but he stops her.

"Did you forget about my plan already?" he admonishes. "Lie down."

Her core throbs. She does as she's told, resting back onto her forearms again - still watching him. She never wants to forget a moment of this.

He rests his hands on her thighs, absent-mindedly massaging them as his eyes devour her. "God, Livvie," he sighs. "You are so beautiful."

He leans down and presses his lips to her belly, his fingers now digging into her hips, drawing her even nearer. "Mm. I love your secret… Our secret."

His mouth travels up to her chest and he reaches around her ribs to unfasten her strapless bra, discarding it to one side. When his wet tongue swirls around her right nipple she almost comes.

"Fitz!"

"Shh."

He doesn't stop; travels left, sucks that one between his lips, grazes it with his teeth. His fingers slip into her black silk panties and slide along her wetness, sending her right to the brink.

"Oh my- fuck!"

She rises into him, seeking more.

And then he withdraws. Travels down again with his mouth, over the curve of her abdomen; pulls at the ribbons holding her underwear together so the material simply falls away. When he sits in his chair and moves it closer, she lets him put her feet back on the arms and push her knees apart, leaving her exposed, and completely naked, and dripping wet for him.

And unbearably aroused.

"Baby, please…"

"Please what?"

She feels his breath on her clit and her pelvic floor contracts sharply. "Make me come… Right here, on your desk. Right now… I'm so ready to come."

The last thing she sees is the smile in his eyes: then hers are closed and her head tips back and his hot, wet mouth is all over her hot, wet center, and he's groaning and lifting her calves onto his shoulders and then, in almost no time at all, with his fingers rolling her nipples, she's falling apart; her orgasm slamming through her.

She forgets where she is, for a short time; feels him drawing her up to sit, his hungry kisses on her mouth, the taste of herself. Then there's the sound of his belt and she drags her eyes open just as his tip presses into her entrance, huge and solid and not enough.

The look on his face as he stands before her is one of total desire, and agony, and surrender. Olivia grips onto his biceps, still clothed in his shirt; moves her hips, taking him a fraction deeper, letting him know without words that she's ready. That she needs this too, just as he does.

He slides one arm around her lower back; raises his other hand to her face. "I love you," he says tenderly, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone.

She feels her emotions rise in her chest. "I love you too." So much.

Then the moment's over. He pulls her forward, onto him, at the same time he flexes into her: one long, deep thrust, filling her completely. They both cry out; panting, shaking. He stares into her eyes as he does it again: slowly withdraws, right to the edge; makes her wait a beat before they collide once more - hard. They've never done it like this before and it's so fucking sexy: those few seconds in between when they're both holding their breath, hearts thundering; lost in each other, in the anticipation, in all the blissful sensations their bodies create together.

Eventually Olivia rids him of his shirt; she holds onto his neck, keeping her body pressed against his, her lips on his, sharing air and loose, tongue-filled kisses and eye contact at all times. Until he starts to pick up the pace; until his breaking point looms. Then, she leans back on her hands and lets him grab her hips and really fuck her, and he's almost too much for her - too big, too deep - but she tilts her pelvis and now he's in G-spot territory and now she's going to come too, with her fingertips on her clit, with his blue eyes urging her to let go, warning her that he's about to explode -

They're not quiet, when they come together. She hopes to God that the music is still playing outside, that the party is still going on. She's been so lost in him for the past half hour, she has absolutely no idea what's happening beyond the four walls of this office.

"Fuck," Fitz is saying, breathing hard, still inside of her. His hands grip hers; pull her into him so he can kiss her. "Mm. Livvie. That was…"

"I know." She scatters kisses on his jaw, his neck. Rests her cheek against his pec and lets her body finally settle. "Did it live up to your expectations?"

"My god. Yes. And yours?"

She sighs happily. "Fitzy. You always live up to my expectations."

"Maybe you need to raise them, then."

She lifts her face and tuts at him. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Okay." Smiling sweetly, he kisses her one last time before reaching into one of his desk drawers for a packet of Kleenex. Her passes her one and then pulls out. She notices the bright pink boxers around his ankles.

"I forgot about those," she laughs.

Fitz draws them up. On the right thigh is a cartoon drawing of two walnuts and the words, 'Warning: Contains Christmas Nuts'.

"Oh my," she exclaims, eyebrows raised. "They are… awful. I'm so glad I didn't see them right in the middle. I think they might have ruined the mood somewhat."

Fitz grins. "I quickly got them out of the way while you had your eyes closed."

"You're not planning on keeping them, are you?"

"God no."

"Good."

Olivia slips off the desk to look for her underwear while Fitz pulls up his pants. Once they're fully dressed again, he hides the tissues inside a plastic bag and throws them in the trash.

"Do you think anyone noticed we went missing?" she asks, suddenly acutely aware of how it will look if they walk out of here and the entirety of his staff is staring at them.

"Possibly."

"What if they think we were having sex?"

"Then they'd be correct, wouldn't they?"

She frowns. "Fitz… what do you suggest we do then?"

He links his arms around her waist, gazing down at her with a thoroughly lovestruck expression. "Olivia Pope. You are so amazing, and so stunning, and the mother of my child - but you just don't get it, do you? I don't care what people think. They can't possibly know the truth, and that's all that matters. Maybe we were just hanging out in here; maybe our relationship really is this adulterous, sordid affair.

"Everything that's out there, beyond us and our friends and family, is just speculation. It's nothing. It doesn't matter what anyone says, or believes about us. Okay?"

"But if your employees think you and I-"

"I took that chance the moment I texted you, inviting you in here. I'm the boss. I have their respect and they have mine. And we're adults, baby. We can do whatever we like."

"But in your office?"

"Shh." He kisses her. "My office, my problem. Now, let's just go back out there and see out the end of this party. Unless you'd rather go straight home?"

Olivia shakes her head. "No. I'm happy to stay a bit longer."

"Okay."

"Okay."

She rests her forehead against his, loathe to leave their bubble just yet.

"Fitz?"

"Mm?"

"Thank you. For your little speech. Thank you for looking after me."

"No problem."

She reaches into her purse and quickly checks her makeup in her mirror, using her phone for light. She finds a packet of gum and offers him a strip.

"You still taste like me," she murmurs.

He laughs as he takes if from her and puts it in his mouth. "Don't worry. I'm not going to kiss anyone else."

"You'd better not."

He finally opens the door, firmly holding her hand in his. "Never."


No one is waiting there, watching for them. No one notices them emerge from the shadows, or even comments on their absence. They're all still drinking, dancing; lost in their own lives, their own bubbles.

To his staff - his friends - she is just a normal person. They are just another couple at an office Christmas party.

And to Olivia, right now, that is the most incredible feeling in the world.