olitz-fic

The Power of Love

A/N: You know what - fuck it. Fitz coming to see Liv would have been unrealistic? Well so is 90% of the show. So, this is how I wish the episode had ended. (Song by Gabrielle Aplin)

Dreams are like angels,
They keep bad at bay,
Love is the light,
Scaring darkness away.

Her ears are ringing. She turns again, buries her head deeper into the pillow, but the dull buzz is still echoing inside her head, drowning out any and all coherent thoughts.

She could have died today. She could have died. She could have been gone, reduced to nothingness. To red mist. That’s what they call it. Because, that’s all that’s left. Her life, all that she is, disappearing in a haze of red.  A person reduced to a blood scatter on shattered windows.

She thought of him. As she lay on the dusty floor, deafening silence pulsing through her eardrums. She thought of him. And she wondered, if they, one day could have been happy. He’s an idealist, and she’s a pragmatist; he believes in the power of love and she believes in power; he wears the white hat, and she never will. And she’s done things, things that haunt her dreams, that loom in the shadows of her consciousness when she’s awake. She’s done things, things he cannot imagine; she is damaged. Maybe, in another life, another reality, in Vermont and with four kids; maybe if she were different and he were perfect; maybe. As the dust settles and she drifts away, she dreams, of babies and jam, and a time and place where he can love her openly and she can let him.

She turns again. Her body aches; the soreness spreading from the very marrow of her bones, through the strained muscles, to the bruised skin. But that’s not the pain she feels. That’s nothing, compared to the tightness in her chest that’s making it impossible for her to breathe; the overwhelming finality of a simple reality – she wants him and she needs him.

Ring. And she can’t tell, not at first, if it’s in her head, but then there’s another one – doorbell. She pushes the blanket off her body slowly, and finds her way to the door though the darkness. She sees the cerulean blue, the blue that takes her breath away; that instantly eases the pain in her chest. She leans her back against the door and inhales; she contemplates not letting him in, making him leave; but she doesn’t have the energy to fight him; she’s tired of fighting. She needs him. She twists the lock, and turns the handle, swinging the heavy door open.

“Hi.” She says with a small smile.

He exhales sharply, letting out a breath that was lodged in his throat, “Hi.”

She steps to the side, to let him in, and smiles to Tom politely. She closes the door and darkness fills the room once again. He turns the lamp on the small table on, familiar with her apartment. She smiles. He seems at home; somehow, against all odds.

“You shouldn’t be here.” She says it, but her tone is different than before; she doesn’t sound cold, she doesn’t sound angry; she sounds relieved, almost happy.

“I know,” he says, as he unbuttons his heavy woolen coat, “but I needed to see you.” She just nods her head, with a small smile. “You nearly died today Olivia.”

He sounds hurt. She wishes he didn’t. She wishes he was angry, because she’s used to playing the defensive; she wishes he was yelling, because she can yell too, she can argue, she can moot. But no, he, he sounds hurt. His voice is almost a whisper, it dissipates in the warm air; disappears in the space filled with things they need to say.

“I’m sorry.” But she’s not sure what she’s apologizing for. For her fearlessness, or for the recklessness – are they the same? For the arrogance? For thinking she’s invincible? She’s sorry, but the sorrow, it’s too new, too complicated; regret and guilt intertwined, interwoven. It’s unfamiliar. A little bit like love.

He just nods his head, and smiles wistfully. “I should go,” and he puts his hands in his pockets and hangs his head – an image of a broken man, “I just wanted to make sure you were OK.” He walks towards the door, his every step echoing through the charged silence.

“I’d like you to stay.” Her voice is, now, barely above a whisper. It startles them both. The desperation in it, the plea. “I,” she says shakily, twisting the hem of her cashmere sweater with her slender fingers, “I… can’t sleep. I can’t fall asleep. I just, I… Please stay with me.” And her voice breaks, a small crack in the walls she’s spent her entire life building up. 

He crosses to where she’s standing and hovers above her for a moment. He touches her arms, lightly, like they’re the most delicate things. He runs his hands along them – up and down, his touch sending chills down her spine. He steps closer, until their bodies are almost touching, and she can feel his heavy breaths, she can inhale the familiar scent. His hands trail a soft line from her elbows to her low back, then up her spine. He pulls her in, slowly, his arms wrapping around her – like a shield. He’s barely touching her, yet he’s all around her. And she lays her head on his chest, and he rests his chin on top of it. He whispers, “One minute.” And she just nods, rubbing her cheek on his soft sweater. Their breaths fall in sync, they become steady, even, calm. Their bodies relax, melt into each other, until they’re one – until she doesn’t know where he ends and she begins, until the heart beating inside his ribcage becomes what’s keeping her alive. They’re one.

“Come on.” And he tries to step away, but she holds on to him, her protests muffled by his chest. “Livvie, let’s go sleep.” She looks up and smiles. She takes his hand, only three of their fingers interlaced; but it’s enough, it’s just right. And she guides him to the couch. He takes his coat off and lays it on the armchair, and he slips his shoes off, before he moves the blanket that was covering her body to the side. He lies down, his back against the back of the couch. She lies next to him, her head resting on his arm, her forehead touching his chest. She wraps her arm around his waist, and their legs are entangled. He runs his hand up and down her back.

“Tell me about Vermont.”

“We live in a big house, by the lake. And there’s an orchard in the back. Apples. I’m the mayor and-“

“And I make jam.” And they both chuckle.

“And you work as a DA. And, yes, on warm Autumn days, you make jam in the garden.” He pauses and inhales her breath; she closes her eyes and inhales his scent. “Lea, Lea is the eldest. She’s smart. A brainiac. She’s just like you. The looks, the stubborn streak, the smile that I can’t resist. Noah and Lily are twins. Identical. They’re impossible – always in trouble. They’re funny, and whip-smart, and drive you crazy sometimes. And Lana, she’s the baby of the family. She’s quiet, a wallflower. She’s the only one with your eyes. The warm, warm brown.”

He can feel her arm relax and her breathing slow down; he looks at her closed eyes and smiles.

He closes his. But he can’t sleep. No, all he sees is the red mist. 

Uptight (Everything's Alright)...

How stunning Olivia looked, her dark skin, contrasted against the crystal clear water, her wet shirt, clinging to every defining curve on that delicious body of hers. How Fitz longed to touch her, hold her, make love to her again… and now she was here, right before him, in this scenic place. Someone needed to pinch him cause he was sure this was a dream.

Sighing as she slid deeper into the cooling bath, Olivia glanced around the large open air room. She’d never seen such an open, yet very private room. It was constructed of four rooms, varying in size. The living area, dining area, and sleeping section were the largest, leaving the smaller section for bathing and dressing. Brightly colored rugs, with Mayan and Aztec prints covered the entire floor of the room. Entering the room, she’d caught a glimpse of the large ornate bed. It was circular and sat high on a pewter frame that rose above the bed itself in large carved posters, situated at both the head and the foot of the bed. The bed was encircled with a large white gossamer mosquito net; it gave it an aura of a Sultan’s tent, more so than a bed in a hacienda in Mexico. Olivia had never seen anything like it. Everything inside the room was simple, light and airy, yet exquisite.

Her stomach grumbled as she caught a whiff of a scrumptious smell, coming from the direction of the kitchen…”Liv, come on, it’s going to get cold, and I made your favorite…” Not only was Fitz a devilishly handsome man, a smooth dancer, and a beast of a lover, he was also an exceptionally good cook. “Ah, a man after my own heart…Coming darling.”

After a superb meal, Fitz poured the last of the white wine into their glasses, and led Olivia out onto the front porch that faced the ocean.
“That was incredible,” Olivia said as she rubbed her stomach. Feeling fully satisfied, she took her glass and laid out in the large hammock, facing Fitz.

Nursing a nice buzz, she was happy, almost giddy, with not a care in the world. Fitz walked over, got into the hammock with Olivia, and began to tickle her. She laughed as he roamed her body, in search of the perfect spot that would send her over the edge with laughter. As she wiggled to get free from his relentless assault, her robe rode up her back side, exposing her perfectly shaped butt - it was magnificent. Fitz loved everything about Olivia, from the top of her head to the soles of her perfectly shaped feet, which were impeccably pedicured. She was flawless… but his favorite feature was her butt. It was all he could think of after their first meeting at the studio, it had fascinated him, he had become obsessed with it. The way it looked in those skin tight work out pants, etc. He was thankful for his height advantage, because it allowed him to look over her shoulder and at her back side as they were dancing. She had turned him into a butt man and it was all he could think about.

“Don’t move…please”
“What, do I have something on my bottom? What is it?
“Shhhh, just be still, I want to…” Fitz leaned in closer and kissed, ever so gently, Olivia’s right butt cheek. “Liv, do you remember that night we played that game…Do you remember what the wager was?”…He said as he kissed her other butt cheek. Olivia let out a small moan, “mmm, yeah, something about winner gets their hearts desire.”
Fitz wet his lips and leaned in to lick up and down the crevasse between Olivia perfectly rounded globes…she let out a muted cry. “Yes, that’s correct. Well, since I was the winner, that would mean that tonight I can have my heart’s desire.”
“OH…?” Olivia could hardly think straight, with Fitz touching, licking, and squeezing her backside, but she vividly recalled that night. It had been the first time that they had explored each other, not making love, just allowing themselves the freedom to openly feel each other’s bodies, without the fear of getting caught by the cameras. It was then that Olivia suspected that Fitz wanted more than to touch her in that area, he really wanted to explore it, in more ways than one. And from the looks of Fitz Jr., that was not going to be a pleasant experience. But tonight she was in no condition to deny Fitz anything, after all he did win, fair and square…
“Come on, let’s go inside…”

Olivia’s heart dropped and her guts turned. She thought it would be too painful. But she did not want to disappoint Fitz, not tonight. It had been so perfect until now, why did this have to happen now. Fitz sensed Olivia’s apprehension. “Relax baby, come here.” They walked into the outside stone shower; gently he backed her up against the cool sandstone wall. He turned on the warm water and slowly under the falling stream he kissed her. For a moment, Olivia lost her breath. She could no longer feel her feet, it was as if she was floating in mid-air. His arms, those strong arms had lifted her up and onto his engorged manhood. To say that Fitz was well endowed was an understatement. It had taken some getting used to his size, but by now, she could accommodate him completely. They made love under the moonlight. Fitz was the perfect lover, gentle and loving when she needed him to be, rough and hard, when she wanted it. Their bodies were in perfect harmony. It’s as if God had created him just to please her. He knew every erogenous zone on her body, and he made each one sing with every well orchestrated beat of his cock.

Olivia stepped out the shower, walking into the adjacent open room, she grabbed a towel as she sat on chaise lounge to dry herself off. As she put her robe on, Fitz quickly kissed her, taking by the hand, he led her to a small stool that sat in the center of the bedroom.
Olivia watched Fitz pull a hairbrush and a large deep red scarf from the overnight bag he brought. He dropped the scarf into her lap and began brushing her slightly damp hair.
“Mmmmm….that feels good.” Her head tilted forward. “I can’t remember the last time someone brushed my hair.”
His strokes remained deep and long as he pulled the brush through her thick hair slowly and methodically. He watched her head fall forward. “Liv, do you know what the word “tantra” means?”
His voice was as soothing as the strokes. The combination of both seemed to have a lulling affect on her. She answered easily and honestly. “Mmmm…yes. It means “woven together.” She was having trouble keeping her eyes open. “Are you trying to put me to sleep?”
“No baby, far from it.” He pulled the brush down the side of her head. The hair was nearly dry. Fitz knew Olivia had practiced yoga and other forms of meditation, but he had no idea how far she’d gone. For the last three months he had submerged himself in the subject, reading every book he could find in anticipation of this day. He wanted to make sure everything was right, it was imperative that Olivia was relaxed and Fitz knew that yoga and meditation were the only things that would accomplish that. Given the extremeness of their lovemaking tonight, it was imperative that mind and body were relaxed.. “Do you know what the “right hand” and “left hand” are?”
Her mind began drifting. “Hmmm…they are the two paths of tantra yoga.”
“And..”
“The “right hand” is a more meditational or monogamous rite, while the “left hand” is used in groups.” Olivia’s body began to slump slightly.
Fitz watched her slump forward. “Liv, can you hear me.” When she nodded, he continued. “Have you every practiced either?”
“No, I’ve only read about them.” She sighed as he put the brush down and began massaging her scalp. Her eyes focused on the vibrant scarf.
His fingers began drawing deep circles over her scalp, moving from the nape to the hairline at her forehead and moving wide to her temples, circling lightly this time. Reaching for the scarf, he tied it snuggly around her eyes, speaking directly into her ear.
Engulfed by a sudden feeling of disorientation, Olivia pulled at the blindfold. “What the hell, Fitz, I can’t see a thing!”
“Shhh…I’m right here.” Fitz took hold of her hands and helped her stand. Moving her slowly to the bed, he spoke softly. “I want us to experience pure feeling…not so much the orgasm, but the intense feelings leading up to the orgasm. Are you open?”
Allowing his voice to calm her, Fitz had been the only man that she had ever given up complete control. Although she was scared, she trusted him, she knew that he would never do anything to harm her. Unable to find her voice, she nodded.
Pushing his hand into the opening of her robe, Fitz cupped one of her breasts, weighing the smooth, silky caramel orb in his hand. He tightened his grip almost painfully. “Do you understand what I want to do, Olivia? I need to hear your answer. Are you open to the experience?”
Olivia spoke softly…hesitantly as he continued to tighten his hold on her breast, pinching the sensitive nipple. “Ye…yes. I understand, it hurts and I am bit scared, but I’m open!” Leaning her head back against his chest, she gave in. “Completely.”
“Good girl.” FItz removed his hand. Smoothing her hair back, he planted a kiss on her forehead before moving away. He circled her slowly, watching her for a moment.

Olivia reached out to find what she couldn’t see. Her voice quiet, she asked. “Where are you?”
“Close.” He stood quietly still watching her. He could tell she was feeling uncomfortable, Olivia was not a person who was used to standing still, but he wanted her to realize the depth of the feeling. Grasping the loose sides of Olivia’s robe, he untied the sash and let it fall from her shoulders, leaving her naked with only a blindfold. He watched as her expression quickly changed, “Are you uncomfortable?”
Olivia didn’t know what to say. So she simply remained silent, a first for her, Fitz thought.
“Answer me.” Fitz moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He waited patiently for her answer.
Olivia turned her face in the direction of his voice. “Yes.”
“Yes what?” Fitz pushed.
“Yes, I feel uncomfortable. I can’t see you…naked, very naked and hate that I can’t see you…but you can see every inch of me.” Olivia breathed. She was no stranger to this sort of pseudo S&M play, but something in Fitz’ voice took it beyond erotic, he had awakened all of her senses, his touch was her only lifeline to existence.
“And you feel?” Fitz pushed to the answer he was looking for.
Reluctantly she answered, “I feel vulnerable.”
Fitz moved silently, standing behind her, he reached around and grasped her chin. Gently twisting her head sideways, he lowered his mouth to taste her lips, sucking the bottom slightly longer then the top. Leaving her lips he drew his tongue slowly up the delicate line of her jaw.
Olivia caught her breath at the sudden sensation. Without her sight, she seemed to be sensitive to every touch and gesture. Senses on edge, trying to figure out what was coming next. “Fitz…”
“Shhh…don’t speak…just feel. Don’t think…just allow. Don’t move…just experience.” Starting at the nape of her neck, Fitz trailed gentle kisses down her spin. Kneeling behind her, Fitz caressed and molded the smooth mounds of her full buttocks. How he had dreamed of this moment, holding her like this. His soft caresses quickly becoming firm. Without warning his lips replaced his hands.
Olivia’s gasp was like the sound of a pin dropping in the silence. Fitz quieted her once again. “No sounds, baby…not yet. Right now you need to concentrate on feeling.” At her nod, he continued his physical worship, sucking the supple skin of each cheek, leaving dark, purplish, love marks that would last for days. Rubbing his teeth across the soft, brown flesh, Fitz bit down slightly, causing Olivia to shiver slightly, her breathing changing from rapid to erratic. Massaging the flesh one last time, Fitz gave Olivia instructions. “Slow your breathing. Breathe with me. In…out…in…out…in…out.”

Once her breathing matched his, Fitz continued tasting. Drawing his tongue slowly up her spine until he once again stood behind her…chest to back, groin to bottom, lips to head and neck. Pulling her back against his chest, he swung her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed. With his knees braced on the edge of the bed, he laid her in the center. “Don’t move.” He whispered. Leaving the bed he went to the overnight bag again. Removing four large scarves and a small bottle of oil from the bag, Fitz returned to the bed with his bounty.
Removing his robe, Fitz joined Olivia on the bed. Turning her over to lie on her stomach FItz straddled her hips, and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Are you open?” As he spoke, he spread her arms wide and pushed them above her head.
Olivia’s mind was on the weight of Fitz sitting on her hips. She had to concentrate in order to give him one simple answer. “Yesss.”
He spoke his intentions, the desires that he had held secret ever since they had met. “I want you tied, blindfolded and face down.” As he spoke he knotted a scarf securely around each of her wrists. Taking the free end of the scarves he double knotted them to hidden bars in the elaborate frame. Moving down to her ankles, he spread her legs wide and taking the last two scarves, repeated the previous actions. Sitting back, he stared at her body. Her body was left open to him. His eyes savored the delicate, pink folds of her hidden passage.

Her mind was reeling…she was wide open and vulnerable to him. Without sight, she could only imagine, wholly feel every touch and every movement.
Lying down next to her, he watched as she tried to come to grips with her body’s bondage and her own mental and physical vulnerabilities. Using a single finger, he followed the same path his tongue had taken not long ago. Moving slowly, he traced the crease that separated her firm buttocks, watching her body shiver as his digit slipped lower, still finding the nether lips that guarded the paradise he sought. “Shhh…just feel.” Fitz murmured. As he separated the dark, pouty lips, he uncovered the swollen, quivering, pink nub hidden there. Teasing the nub he pinched and worked it into arousal. Leaving the nub, Fitz circled the lush opening before pushing a single finger into her inch by slow inch until it was completely buried inside of her.

Holding his finger there, he leaned into her ear. “Feel me, here…inside you.” He pulled his finger out to the tip, adding a second as he pushed back into her dark passage. Repeating the actions in an age old rhythm, he added a third finger. Pushing in and out, he aroused her body and set her mind aflame, his own body already on edge…hard and erect. He used the same breathing technique; he coached to keep from spilling his seed over both of them.
She couldn’t move. Her lungs were tightening against the air moving in and out of them. Her panting came in time to the rhythm Fitz’s fingers set. Her whimpering was uncontrollable as her excitement grew, and then suddenly, his fingers stopped moving. She waited…it was all she could do. Wait and feel. She turned her thoughts inward. She concentrated on the electric thrumming of her tortured nerve endings. She could feel the muscles in her lower body clinching in aroused spasms.
“Calm your breathing. Breathe slowly. Feel my fingers filling you, Liv…touching you. Feel them moving in and out.” His fingers began moving once again. “Breathe slowly. In…out…in…out.” He increased the rhythm. “Feel them moving faster…your nerves tightening. I can feel you clenching. Relax and breathe. The goal is feeling, not orgasm. Slow and deliberate, just feel the rhythm of the movement.”

Olivia slowed her breathing and relaxed her muscles. She didn’t bother to speak. She followed Fitz’s instructions and concentrated on the feeling of his fingers, on the feeling of fullness. She focused on the friction his movement caused. She bit down on the moan that fought to escape her throat. How could a man hold such sway over her mind and body?
Fitz pulled his fingers free, slowly. Caressing the perfect cheeks of round buttocks, he inserted one wet finger. Pushing gently into the channel he was about to initiate. “Have you ever accepted a man here, Olivia?”
Pulled from her breathing task, she was startled into answering. “No, I haven’t. I don’t think I’d like it much.”
“You will. You’ll have to work past the discomfort. I’ll be here with you as always. Are you open? I won’t ask again,” Fitz asked, his finger moving deeper. He could tell by the tensing and jerking movement, Olivia was unaccustomed to the invasion and didn’t find it pleasant. Because her senses were still so heightened, the discomfort was minor.
“Yesss,” she whispered the word, her mind on the invasion.
“There is no going back, Liv. I’ll try not to hurt you, you know I would never do that, but you know that there will be some pain. It is part of the goal,” Fitz instructed.

“You’re insane, but….all right.”

“For a man the pain comes from the retention of our natural orgasms. That is why the man and woman must meditate as one…make their individual battles one.” Working his finger in and out slowly, Fitz prepared her entrance for his erection. Only a half an hour had passed since they had last made love, but as soon as he saw her naked, sprawled out before him, he was instantly erect, he had been holding it ever since. She had no idea, but his pain had already begun.
Pulling his finger free, Fitz reached for a pillow and the bottle of oil he’d taken from the bag. Lifting her slightly by the waist, Fitz slid the pillow underneath Olivia’s hips, using it to adjust her bottom up. Pouring a quarter size amount of the heating oil in his palm, he rubbed it over his entire erection. Coating two fingers, he teased her opening once again. He pushed his fingers deep making sure the channel was well lubricated.

Olivia hadn’t expected the oil, let alone the instant heat that it brought to her insides. She instantly pulled against the scarves when his fingers pushed steadily into her, working ruthlessly to widen her entry. Tightening against the invasion, she bit down against the moan that threatened to escape - loosing the battle when he mounted her from behind and carefully pushed the head of his erection into her tight passage. Pulling back, he paused a moment before pushing deeper.
Leaning over her, Fitz whispered, “Don’t focus on the pain. Feel the fullness.” He repeated the movements, pushing in and pulling out carefully pass her tightening walls until he was completely in. Lying full length across her body, Fitz let his full weight pin her down. His body still, Fitz could feel her passage gripping and releasing him. His own body throbbed in a rhythm that was natural to both him and Liv.

Olivia breathed steadily pass the burning sensation until she became accustomed to his enormous size. She could feel her rear channel stretching, widening to accommodate him. He seemed larger somehow, if that were humanly possible. Concentrating on the strong throbbing of his erection, she relaxed and allowed her body to accept him completely. His weight, pinning her down became more of an animalistic arousal then mere male on female sexual domination. He was now so deeply inside her, their bodies were throbbing in unison, so much so that she could not tell where she ended and he began. She did the only thing she could do…breathe.

They lay that way…as one for what seemed to both as a small eternity; learning the feel of one another, breathing as one entity, he in…her out. It wasn’t long before Olivia realized that movement was not necessary for an arousal.
Fitz let the full onslaught of arousal, wash over him. “Do you feel them?” he whispered in her ear. “The feelings…their intensity?” She finally understood the union he’d sought - this feeling of fullness, oneness and immeasurable arousal. Always understanding pain, Olivia embraced the discomfort- now edging into pleasure- as Fitz once again began to move in and out of her body.
Lifting his weight from her, he placed one hand on each side her head, his knees on the mattress and began pumping forcefully…ruthlessly. Steeped in mindless ecstasy, Fitz continued his assault, his mind now on Olivia and her mounting orgasm. He slowed his thrust, coming to a full stop. “Lesson one is complete and now for lesson two…full release. I’m going to fuck you the way I need to. The way I’ve been dreaming about since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

His words adding to her aroused senses, Olivia gasped, and Fitz began thrusting again. For the first time in her life she was about to have an orgasm from anal sex. Every muscle in her body constricted as he thrust in and out of her rear passage as though it had been made solely for him. She could only feel and accept as he worked her body into a frenzy of orgasmic lust, the now dulling pain adding sharply to the pleasure. Combing his fingers through her thick hair, Fitz used his leverage to press Olivia’s face into the mattress.
Accepting his domination over her again, Olivia gave into the light headedness of air deprivation. Fighting against her bonds, Olivia tried pushing her hips into his. The lack of air, the painful tug of the scarves, and the constant pounding into her rear channel was all she could take.

Lifting his hand from her head, Fitz allowed Olivia to turn her face to the side for air, before returning his hold to her head. Leaning over her as he pounded into her body, his voice penetrated her hazed mind. “Let it, take it, give in to it completely… Scream for me baby!” And as the tension broke and rapture took hold of her, Olivia did just that, screaming Fitz’s name as she came.
Pulling from her pulsing body, Fitz rolled as quickly as his heavily aroused body would allow him. Coming to the edge of the bed, he used the clean cloth and bowl of fresh water that he’d snuck in after he had blindfolded Olivia, to cleanse himself. Finishing, he moved back to where Olivia lie, still in the throws of her orgasm, her body gyrating against her bonds. The sight almost sent him into release.

Giving her no chance to adjust, Fitz positioned himself behind her once more, rubbing his throbbing erection against her soft, damp folds, enjoying Olivia’s attempts to push back against him. Bending forward, his lips lightly grazed the sensitive nape of her neck, then adding his weight to his movements, “You want more?” Fitz whispered. Olivia could only manage a nod. Fitz smiled as he thrust powerfully into her begging body, seating himself completely. He withdrew slowly, filled her again, thrusting in long, slow strokes, nudging deep. The largeness of him stirred the same nerve endings that were still in the throes of the previous torturous orgasm.

Barely catching her breath, Olivia’s whimpers filled the open room, which still held remnants of her past screams. Though her body was trying to calm itself, she was still so dizzyingly aroused, hot, achy, and needy. As her body fought to calm itself, she felt yet another orgasm building.

Fitz filled her, almost lazily, covering the silky flesh of her neck and shoulders in tiny, open mouthed kisses intermingled with love bites. Small, broken sounds escaped her lips with each slow thrust of his erection. The small sounds became steady cries as his continued to thrust and withdraw, inch by excruciating inch. His weight and her bonds prevented her from changing or controlling the pace.
Unable to move more than her wrists and ankles, Olivia lay helpless as Fitz slammed into her wet body, the heavy weight of his testicles slapping against her tender bottom, arousing her rear channel all over again. Suddenly images behind the blindfold filled her mind in bright colors. She wanted to be filled completely…every orifice. She wanted to see him filling her…fucking her. His large hand found her face, caressing and tracing her lips before inserting a finger between them. She stroked it with her tongue, closing her lips over the firm digit and sucking it fully into her mouth.

The wet, hot suction of her mouth and the wet, hot suction of her dark passage drove him mercilessly. “You like this…me inside you like this.” He punctuated his words with thrusts. Removing his finger from her mouth, he gripped a handful of her thick dark hair, pulling her head back towards him.
Tied, blind folded and helpless, her body his to brutally command, she could only respond. “Yesss…Yessss! Please Fitz…please!”
“Please what, baby?” Fitz tightened his hold on her hair and pushed deeper into her body…right to the hilt. It just wasn’t enough, this penetration. He wanted his balls inside her, too, and even that wouldn’t be enough!
“I need to cum. Please let me cum, Fitz.” She breathed, her body held on the edge of orgasmic bliss.

“All right, baby.” Fitz cupped Olivia’s head and adjusted it so that he had easy access to her mouth. Capturing her lips, his tongue thrust deeply, matching the deep thrust of his hips. Plunging his thick, hard erection deeply again, he held, grinding his hips in circles against her bottom, pumping into her. God, the man was incredible, those hips moved like well oiled pistons. Fitz wasn’t kidding when he said he was a fantastic lover. Fighting her bonds, Olivia tried again to push against him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging in tempo with his lower body, both driving into her.
The tension gripping her body suddenly exploded. Flooding her with an orgasm so intense it was more painful than pleasurable. This orgasm was deeper, it pulsed at the very core of her soul. Fitz continued ramming into Olivia’s body, working against the orgasmic spasms that caused the walls of her vagina to grip and milk his erection. Giving in to the sexual haze that now controlled him, Fitz released his seed into her, in a forceful flood of liquid heat, sending Olivia into another round of spasms. Relaxing his weight fully upon her, Fitz enjoyed the feel of her body under his, helplessly convulsing around his still semi-aroused penis.
Held down by his body, Olivia screamed Fitz’s name again as she came. She realized that the process of relinquishing control and literally trusting a man blindly with your body, your safety, and your very life, was a soul-stirring event. She knew she’d never be the same. She’d given Fitz something she’d never given another person…complete control of her mind, body, and spirit. She realized she liked it.

The room now held the sounds of the two lovers’ heavy breathing, his body still joined to hers and her limbs still tied to his, Fitz’s weight pressing her into the mattress. As they both began into fall into unconscious, Liv heard Fitz whisper. “You were amazing…I hope you now understand the difference between a man who is controlling and one who is in control…I love you, Olivia Pope.”
He was right, he had taken control, but it had been a mutual thing, he had given her the freedom to choose, and it had felt amazing. Although Olivia was not quite ready to say those three little words out loud, the words that would forever change the dynamics of their relationship, fusing their lives together forever, after tonight, there was no doubt in her mind that she felt the same way…

Those thick rich curls…who wldn’t want to run their fingers all up in it!… Tony, Tony, Tony has done it again!

anonymous asked:

Please write a fanfic about liv and fitz fighting about painting their child's room. You can't put that in the tags and not expect me not to get emotional

Hi lovely… so turns out I was inspired.

Here’s a drabble. It’s a half hour drabble so be forgiving :)

Yellow

“So, I got some paint samples today,” he says as he sits on the couch next to her, putting her feet in his lap. She peels her eyes off of the TV and looks at him, her brows furrowed, her eyes questioning. “Fine, I had Tom get some paint samples today.”

“I thought we agreed to wait.” She says, turning her face back to the TV.

“It’s just samples Liv.” He is tired, exasperated, it’s been a constant push and pull with her for the past six months. She’s scared, terrified, and he gets it, he understands how she’s feeling, but not why and she’s refusing to let him in; she’s refusing to share her deepest, darkest fears with him, and it stings. So this, this really isn’t about the paint, and thirty different shades of yellow – it’s about reassurance that she wants this as much as he.

“Samples we agreed not to get yet.” She says, trying to pull her feet off his lap, but he keeps massaging them until she relaxes again.

You decided. We didn’t agree.”

“I’m tired,” and she places the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and her feet firmly on the ground, “I can’t do this right now.”

“When?” She turns around, her hand supporting her burdened back – she is tired and exasperated too, it’s been a constant push and pull. He pushes, and she pushes back, because she’s afraid – that she’ll be a terrible parent, because let’s be real she didn’t have the best role models and popcorn and wine is her idea of a family diner; she’s as affectionate as a shark, and babies freak her out – their heads are disproportionately large, they’re not very good at communicating what they need fixed and they suck up all the time and energy. She likes her life; finally, she likes her life, and it’s about to change – irrevocably. It’s a terrifying thing. But not to him – he’s elated, excited, over-the-moon-happy, picking color palettes and building cribs. He’s Fitz. And right now, everything she loves about him is driving her crazy.

“I don’t know.” And she knows her voice sounds petulant. “But not now.”

“When Olivia?” It’s loud, too loud, and she wants to shout back, but the thing about them – she loses her cool so easily, too easily around him – and even their fights are too much, too heated and too messy, she’d say something, she always does, she always reveals another little piece of her soul, a piece that was hidden for so long that she had forgotten all about it. He makes her reveal her darkest corners, turn them inside out. He sees it as more parts to love; she sees it as more reasons for him to walk away, because there’s a part of her that still, to this day, does not believe he’s there to stay. So she doesn’t argue, she doesn’t shout back, she walks away.

She can’t fall asleep. She’s tossing and turning. And the summer heat is too sticky and the sheets seem too thick. And really, it’s not about the heat, or the sheets, it’s about him, it’s about him not coming to bed, it’s about him staying out there, on the couch, away from her. She walked away, and he let her. And he’s gone when she wakes up, he had an early class, and she’s busy the whole day with clients. But there are moments between crises, between saving reputations and spinning stories when her eyes drop to her phone involuntarily, and her heart sinks because he still hasn’t called. She doesn’t call him. And the day flies by, and it’s 9pm and the sun has almost set, the sky in hues of red.

A knock on the door. It opens. It opens before she can say – Come in. It’s him.   

“Hi.” She breathes out as she gets up. It’s an effort. Her heels are too tight and so are her clothes and her back hurts and the baby seems to think of her bladder as a ping-pong ball. But the discomfort is fleeting, because he’s there, he came, and that’s more important in that moment, somehow that makes all the rest of it fade.

“Hi.” And he closes the space between them. He places his hands on her belly as he kisses her gently. And there’s a flutter, a kick. He smiles against her lips.

“I got you this.” And he pulls a yellow monkey from a paper bag he placed on her desk.

“You got me a stuffed monkey?” She asks, amused, as she runs her fingers through the fluffy yellow textile.

“Yes. I got you a stuffed monkey.” He says with a smirk as he makes his way to the couch. She follows him and kicks off her heels, before placing her feet in his lap.

“Care to explain?”

“Karen had a project in school a few years back. She had to carry a sack of flour around for a week and pretend it’s a baby. I figured the flour might be a bit strange, with your lifestyle and all, but a stuffed monkey would be fine. It’s resilient.”

“You want me to practice mothering on a stuffed monkey?”

“Well, until next week. Then Teddy will come over for a couple of weeks. Then you can practice on him.”

“Fitz…” Her voice is shaky.

“I know. I know you’re scared. I can tell. But you won’t tell me why. And I don’t know if it’s the whole responsible-for-another-human-being-thing, or being afraid of the changes, or the fact that your parents fucked up in more ways than I can count, and maybe it’s all of that, or none of it. I don’t know. And you don’t have to tell me until you’re ready. But in the mean time, I got you the monkey, so that you can see how easy it is to slip into this.”

“I love you.” It’s the only thing she feels in that moment; overwhelming the doubt, uncertainty, fear. Just love for him, and their baby. Suddenly her eyes are watery, and her eyesight is blurry, and no – it’s happening again. “Damn it!” She wipes her eyes. He laughs. “It’s not funny! My hormones are taking over my mind and my body.”

“It’s a little bit funny.” He says, as he moves his hands to her ankles, eliciting a loud moan in response. “Shall we go home?”

“Not yet. Too comfy here.” And she snuggles deeper into the couch, her eyelids suddenly heavy.

“Maybe you should cut down on your hours.” And he knows it’s a losing battle as he says it, but the thing about them – it’s push and pull.

“No.” She says through a yawn. “But you and Teddy could paint the nursery when he comes over.” And he smiles. “Not yellow though. Yellow’s just tacky.”

And she runs her hand through the monkey’s yellow fur as she drifts off into slumber. 

I love you. I’m in love with you. You’re the love of my life. My every feeling is controlled by the look on your face. I can’t breathe without you. I can’t sleep without you. I wait for you, I watch for you. I exist for you.
—  Fitzgerald Grant, Scandal S:02E:08

Maybe If there was a little more of this instead of a lot of ‘Heathcliff’ …then maybe just maybe…nah…I wld still be hooked on the Fitz …sorry Eddie…I guess you’ll catch some next life time….

Once upon a time in Vermont

A/N: What if after everything, they could get a chance at a life they always wanted. I’m not sure yet if this will turn into a full-grown fic, or if it will end here. But I hope it will cheer you up, before tonight :)

She drives past it one day. It’s late June and the sun is just about to set. The air is colored by warmth and swarms of fireflies illuminate the winding road. She drives past it, and she thinks – it could be home.

She drives past it and she cries.

She stops at the diner down the road. She orders coffee. They bring her pie and a napkin to wipe away her tears.

It’s like heaven, the softness of apples and the lightness of the thick cream; the warmth that spreads through her mouth, down her throat and settles in her stomach. In the very pit of her stomach. The place usually occupied permanently by guilt; occupied by missing him. Both eternally settled, so omnipresent that she barely notices anymore – the only remainder an occasional pang of sharp pain in her chest. The doctor told her – it’s stress; she knows it’s melancholy, being awakened by faded memories.

You were right. This is the best pie.

She types it quickly, then presses cancel. She hasn’t seen him in a year. She saves it. One day, this too, will be a faded memory. She leaves a brand new twenty-dollar bill on the table, courtesy of inflation, and leaves.

She pauses at the door – she can see it: the four kids, running around here on Sundays; she can see herself telling them to behave; she can see him, winking, telling them it’s OK. She can see him carrying their daughter, light auburn curls and cerulean eyes, in his strong arms, as the delicate hands hold on to his collar. She can see their son, on his first day of school, biting into a slice of bread, with butter and jam – the red stuck to outer corners of his full lips. His mother’s lips. And she can imagine him, talking to her perturbing belly, as two babies kick; she can imagine him kissing it, running his hand absentmindedly along the side of it. She can imagine herself, kissing him, burying her head into his chest, deep into his chest – until it’s resting on his heart; the rhythm of their life resounding though her tired body. She can imagine a life. Anniversaries and arguments, babies, children, daughters and sons, with her smile and his eyes; she can imagine the kisses, and the soft whispers, the tender love and the moment of oblivion when they shatter over the edge, as one.

She can imagine. But she doesn’t. Instead she drives. Hoping that one day, dreams will become memories.

/

And she drives past the board with the large black letters again, two years later. It’s late summer and the sky is already dark, the heavy clouds covering the distant stars. She hasn’t spoken to him in three years. She hasn’t seen him in three years. She’s thought of him, dreamt of him, missed him – every day since. She doesn’t realize where she’s going, until she’s making a turn by the willow whose branches disappear under the surface of the emerald lake, and driving past the old wooden bench. The sound of crickets echoes through the hollow silence. It’s dark. Dark and quiet. It seems too big now, maybe because it’s swallowed by the night; like a dream corroded by time. As she drives by, despondence fills her up.

He’s divorced now. But still not free. Maybe, maybe he’ll never be.

She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t stop for pie.

No, she has to meet a client.

/

She hasn’t seen him in four years, three months, three weeks and five days.

She turns the radio up to drown out her rambling thoughts. Forever incoherent, forever racing; forever running away from her – to him. And she smiles as the soft bass vibrates through the speakers.

She remembers a night, years ago, when he was still governor and she still believed in moral dichotomies; she remembers dancing, in a room, in a provincial hotel, safe in his arms, protected by the cloak of the darkness. She remembers the texture of his hair, and how broad his shoulders were; how familiar every inch of his body felt. She remembers the guilt; but more than that she remembers the happiness. She didn’t know, not then that that’s what she felt. But years later, as she drives down the familiar path, she knows – she’s never been happier than that night, dancing away from time, lost in the haven of his arms.

She knows, he is what happiness feels like.

There’s a thin coating of ice on the road, invisible under the pale winter light, so she drives slowly; her hand rhythmically tapping the wheel. The lake is frozen, the emerald almost black, the ice a tender silver. And the willow, it seems serene – the whole tree covered in silver linings.

She can see the house. There’s no car. There’s no one. And her heart sinks, as the familiar pain tightens her chest.

She’s early. She’ll wait.

She parks the car in the driveway, and the pebbles rumble under the brand new tires. She gets out, the cool air burning her barely exposed skin. She takes her phone out, her hands trembling; not from cold, but from the nervousness that’s settling in. No missed calls. No new messages.

She checks her emails, but there’s nothing. Nothing from him. She can feel her throat closing.

Instinctually, she opens the one saved email she has – the one that’s survived phone changes, and resets and binge-email-clearings. There’s a photo of the familiar house. Taken in summertime. It was newer then, the color more vibrant, the windows clean, the door inviting. It was different then – then it was a dream, now, now it’s real. A little bit shabby, and a little bit broken, a little bit worn out, but a possibility.

January, 21st 2017. 4 p.m. I’ll be here. Waiting.

She closes the email. 3:58. She opens the car door and grabs a pack of cigarettes from her bag. The frisk winter air puts out the flame. Once, twice, but she tries again. And finally, she inhales and the calm spreads through her veins.

“I didn’t know you smoke.” He yells from the side of the road. She looks at him, incredulously. “The car broke down. So I decided to walk from the diner.” He says with a nonchalant smile. She sees Tom, walking behind him, and he nods curtly. She’s quiet. Lost for words. She’s imagined this moment for years. Gone over it in her head, thought about what he’d say and what she’d say – but now, seeing him – with a few more lines than she remembers, darker circles under his eyes, and a few extra grey hairs – he still looks the same – he still has the same effect. “I wanted to come early. Make sure I was here first. In case you… decided to drive by.”

He’s standing in front of her now and she’s motionless, stuck in place, her eyes taking him in; her mouth opening, but no sounds leave it.

“Livvie…” and his knuckles brush against her cheek. And she leans into the tender touch; into the warmth, the familiarity.

“We can’t just… We can’t just pick up where we left off. I don’t even, I don’t even know where we left off. Too much has happened, too many… we hurt each other too many times.” She says it all in one breath; her cheek resting in the palm of his hand. Her eyes closed – she can’t get lost in his again.

“You showed up.” He says with a smile; it’s still crooked, still perfect.

“We can’t just… This isn’t a dream. We can’t just move in here, and get married and have four kids, and make jam. We can’t-“

“I agree.” He says softly, and she opens her eyes to look at him, fear hiding behind the thick lashes. “Four kids is way too many. I don’t want to be 90 when the youngest graduates. So one, one or two. And of course we can’t just move in here – this place is a dump, no one’s stepped inside for years. As for getting married, I was thinking April, May if you really want to wait.”

“We can’t just… This isn’t a fairytale.”

“No.” And he looks at her. “This is real.”

And he slowly lowers his head, brushing his nose lightly against hers. His lips touch hers, and it feels like the first time – new and unfamiliar; tender and delicate. Their creases and crevices falling in sink, as their hands hold on to the burning flesh. Her tongue plays with his bottom lip, and he opens his mouth; and it’s the familiar taste, the familiar warmth. She tilts her head and loses her hands in his hair, as he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close, as close as she can be.

They break apart breathlessly.

She opens her eyes, slowly. “Hi.”

“Hi.” And he smiles. “I brought jam.”

What I’m thinking about when I look at this photo:

Olivia [Pointing at papers]: Well Mr. President. If you look here, the plan can work. We cross off Mellie the slave here, put her out in the dark, we have us. I can be the First Lady, you remain full status of POTUS, and we l live happily ever after. Do you understand sir?

Fitz: “Thats a good plan baby, but all im thinking about is what I’m gonna do to you tonight.”

A girl can dream, right?

Another fine example of Fitz’s big(hint)…well I wasn’t just referring to his heart…but the huge impression(hint)…and I wasn’t going to just say the one he has left on Olivia…but he definitely left one on me!

scandalbayoubeauty asked:

Tell me you top five all time favorite olitz fan fics. You even tell me why if you like :-)

Okay! I actually have a post on my blog with my faves linked which I can reblog for you shortly. But I’m happy to tell you my faves off the top of my head.

1. Unforgettable. Total AU, extremely sexy and well written, sadly not updated in awhile.

2. The Pressure of Cheating Death. Not as much AU, but with Olivia and Fitz together how they belong! She tells him about Defiance and he divorces Mellie.

3. The Road To Vermont - a post season 3 fic by blackstaraura. So well written and REAL!

4. Devoted To Your Happiness and the sequel The Constancy of Happiness by belladamenoir - I know I’m cheating because this is your favorite too, but I can’t help it! Each chapter of these fics could be an episode of the show and better than the real thing!!

5. Meet You at Midnight - this is a new fic that I really like. It’s very cute and sweet.

There are so many that I’m leaving out, but these are the first 5 I came up with for you! Thanks for keeping me entertained for a little while!