A/N: So during drabble nights, I'm supposed to write 100 words long drabbles as fast as possible, but I never manage to respect the word limit rule XD So I just vomit lots of words really fast.

The prompt was: "Olivia and Peter enter the apartment and she surprises him by shoving him on the couch."

COUCH

They are barely over the threshold of her door when Olivia pushes him away from her with surprising force. Admittedly, it might simply be due to the fact that it is a completely unexpected move from her; he has just spent the last few minutes pressing her harder and harder against the other side of the door, in a succession of long and languid kisses that he knows have left her quite weak in the knees, judging by the way she'd had the hardest time inserting her key in the keyhole with shaky fingers.

But things are about to change, and she makes it very obvious that it is his turn to have his knees weakened, closing the door loudly behind her before grabbing his jacket again and pushing him backward, towards the couch. He falls onto it without resisting too much.

It is the first time she's letting him back into her place ever since they officially got together a few weeks ago, and if she wants to take the lead, he is happy to oblige. He watches as she roughly gets rid of her coat, her cheeks a delicious shade of dark pink, her ponytail messy, and he inwardly decides that as soon as she gives him a chance, he's going to have to free her hair and let it go wild with the help of his yearning hands.

The thought flies out of his mind as soon as she joins him on the couch, though, and she doesn't exactly straddle him as much as she slithers all over him, her hands disappearing in his hair, nails scraping his scalp; she squeezes him hard between her thighs, then, and god he has never seen her eyes so dark before. He cups her burning face with equal impatience and pulls her even closer, but one of her hands promptly leaves his hair and she pressed her palm over his thumping heart, pushing herself away.

"Ever done it on this couch?" She asks him, then, and her voice is throaty and slightly breathless, her eyes piercing his with such intensity that he's pretty sure she's burning a hole into his soul.

"No," he manages to answer, or rather squeak out, as she rolls her hips into his and he sees stars.

The way she's still griping his hair is rather painful now, but he hardly minds, as she brings her face down, and he feels her hot, heavy breath against his ear.

"Well, that's about to change," she informs him, categorically, the hand she had pressed upon his chest now wandering down.

And indeed, when she's through with him, Peter never looks at that couch the same way again.