A/N: This is already posted in my one shots collection but I've decided to make it a full story. It's loosely based on the alleged affair between JFK and Marilyn Monroe. There will be some history included but I plan to take a lot of creative license.

1962

Tuesday · Hollywood, California

Paramount Studios

Olivia sat at her dressing room's vanity, painting on her signature winged eyeliner. She didn't look away from her reflection when someone knocked on the door. "Come in."

Two men in dark suits entered a moment later and looked around the room. One, a hulking man with a blonde crewcut, asked, "Are you alone, Ms. Pope?"

"Except you two, yes," she replied. Finished with her makeup, she turned away from the mirror to look them over. She smirked. "You two look like you could be Secret Service."

"We are," the blonde man replied, surprising Olivia.

Olivia's eyebrows rose. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm afraid I'm the cause," another man said as he entered. He wore a gray suit and his dark hair was combed neatly. "Stephen Grant."

"You're a relation of the president, I presume," Olivia replied, wondering what was going on.

"I'm his older brother, believe it or not," Stephen replied. "And if you can believe that, you might be able to believe how big of a fan he is of you."

Olivia smiled. "So he told me. I met him once last summer."

She quickly recalled the meeting between herself and the handsome young president. He had mooned over her in a way she wasn't used to from someone so powerful, blushing when she told him he was the only politician she had ever voted for.

"He's seen all your movies. He even has some of your albums." Olivia was flattered to say the least, color rising in her cheeks. Stephen went on, "I'm here because his birthday party is this Saturday, and I'd like for you to perform at his party. That is, if you're not already booked somewhere else."

"I'd cancel on the Pope to perform for the President," Olivia replied. "What should I sing?"

"'Happy Birthday,'" Stephen answered. "Unless you'd like to sing something else."

"What else is there to sing on such an occasion?"

Stephen shrugged. "I get the impression my brother would listen to you sing the Coppertone jingle if you showed up."

"I think "Happy Birthday" will do just fine." There was a knock at the door followed by the muffled voice of one of the set's interns. "Oh, that's my cue. You can leave the information with my assistant, Quinn."

Olivia stood and Stephen stopped his jaw from going slack at the sight of her in a red satin gown with a low-cut neckline that exposed more cleavage than Stephen had ever seen outside of a magazine. "Break a leg."

XXXXX

Saturday · New York, New York

Madison Square Garden

Stephen watched his younger brother stand before the mirror fussing with his bowtie. Fitz frowned at his older brother's reflection. "I hate this tie."

"Then wear a regular one," Stephen replied, sitting in the shining leather high-backed chair in the corner.

"I have to wear this one. It was a gift from The Queen."

Mellie entered the room, beaming in her blue silk gown that matched Fitz's tie. "Let me do it, dear."

Fitz turned to his wife, glowering. "I really don't want to do this."

"It's your birthday, Fitz. It's practically a national holiday."

Fitz rolled his eyes. "No it isn't. It's just an excuse for you to pack the house with dignitaries."

"Well I've got to have some fun. I'm ornamental, not functional. Remember?" She gave an icy grin, bringing up one of Fitz's remarks from a fight earlier that week.

"Well you've got the mental part right," Fitz muttered as Mellie finished tying his tie.

"Oh don't be petty, Fitzgerald. There's bound to be plenty of bimbos for you to ogle tonight, and that's the best birthday present I could give you, isn't it?"

Stephen stifled a snicker as he stood. "Let's save the pillow talk for later, shall we? There's plenty of liquor downstairs that needs our attention."

Mellie left first, announcing she had to finish putting her face on. Fitz smirked. "If she puts any more face on, she'll give Ronald McDonald a run for his money."

"How about you cheer up, little Gerry? Tonight could turn out better than you think," Stephen replied as he headed for the door. He knew of a surprise that would certainly turn his brother's evening around. They descended the stairs to the arena where guests were beginning to arrive. Stephen looked around the room and frowned at the absence of one particular guest that he'd been expecting before everyone else. He went to the agents watching the door. "Is she here yet?"

"Ms. Pope has yet to arrive. Her assistant called to say she's running late," one agent replied.

Stephen smirked. "She's running late. Unbelievable. She's probably trying to stuff that set of bowling balls on her chest into whatever piece of cellophane she picked to wear tonight."

The agents snickered as Stephen walked away. He smirked at Fitz looking bored as he entertained the Canadian prime minister and his ceramic-looking wife.

The party commenced without incident. Mellie grinned icily as she mingled with guests, leaving Fitz sitting at the head of the banquet table. He plastered on a smile, graciously thanking the guests who approached him. Presents sat in a towering pile on the gift table and Stephen wondered what sort of presents one bought for the leader of the free world. He had gotten his brother a crystal tumbler of scotch that he had a good feeling wouldn't last very long in his little brother's possession.

He was refilling his glass of champagne when an agent approached him. "She's here, Mr. Grant."

"Get her set up on the stage and have someone light the candles on the cake." The agent nodded and disappeared. Stephen walked to the table and sat beside his brother. "Do you know how lucky you are to have me as a brother?"

"You're the only person who bought me liquor, so I'm going to say I'm very lucky," Fitz replied with a mirthless smirk. He didn't understand how everyone could be so jubilant given the country's turmoil. It was his birthday true enough, but shouldn't frivolity take a backseat when there was a crisis afoot? He could think of a distinct faction of the country who didn't have the freedom to celebrate with him, a faction who had risked literal death to give him the presidency, and yet no one in attendance of his ridiculously lavish birthday party seemed the least bit concerned with their welfare.

"Come on Ger, cheer up. I promise you can go back to saving the world tomorrow. Tonight, have some fun."

Fitz finally smiled. His big brother was his best friend, and though Fitz would never admit it to his face, Stephen was very much a father figure to him. He did need to loosen up. The White House doctor had warned him about keeping himself so wound up. His blood pressure was through the roof. He sipped his champagne and sat back in his chair. "Fine. Tonight, I'll be the empty-headed, fun-loving politician every trashy magazine says I am."

"Good," Stephen replied, getting up from his chair. He walked onto the ballroom's stage and the orchestra quieted. Every guest turned to him. "If everyone could be seated, I have something very special planned for tonight."

He waited for the guests to shuffle into their seats then continued, "A little secret about my brother: He wanted to be a movie star when we were growing up. He used to insist my mother videotape him doing Humphrey Bogart's best lines. I still have those tapes if anyone would like to buy them."

The crowd laughed and Fitz smirked at his brother. Stephen laughed. "But seriously, folks, my baby brother is probably my best friend in the world. I wish I could say it goes both ways but I think single malt scotch has that spot with no contest. Nevertheless, I'm here to present my brother with the best birthday present anyone could give him. I'm looking at you, Senator Jordan. I saw the speedboat racing lessons gift certificate you bought him and I think I've got you beat. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I present the lovely Olivia Pope."

The silence was almost deafening as the arena became pitch black in an instant. A spotlight came on, lighting the single spot on the stage where Olivia stood. She looked around the shadowed crowd as she slipped out of her white fur wrap. Fitz thought his eyes might pop out of his head at the sight of her skin tight flesh-colored gown, glittering with crystals. He squinted, trying to discern if there was something underneath the gown or if he was staring at her skin through the thin fabric. Fitz stared at her, only mildly aware that he was gaping like an idiot, as her eyes landed on him. She gave a glimmer of her million dollar smile, her bedroom eyes alight as she took hold of the microphone.

"Happy birthday to you," she sang and Fitz had to remind himself to breathe at the sound of her soft, smoky voice. He could almost image that they were alone, their eyes connecting in the dark room, her voice breathy. He was thankful that she sang slowly, prolonging the song, so that he could unabashedly stare at her. He couldn't think of anything or anyone else she'd rather be looking at. When she finished it took him a moment to join everyone else in the nearly deafening applause. She only smiled, seeming almost unfazed, as she briefly bowed her head then left the stage. The lights came back up and Fitz looked at Stephen. "How'd you swing Olivia Pope?"

Stephen shrugged. "I'm the President's brother. That carries a surprising cache of power."

Fitz laughed. "You're an idiot."

"You're welcome, Gerry." Stephen smiled as he stood. "Wanna go meet her?"

"Yeah." Fitz couldn't stop smiling as he stood with his brother and followed Stephen to the backstage area. Fitz looked around and frowned when he didn't see her. "Where do you think she went?"

"Probably back to her dressing room. It's not like she was dressed to entertain," Stephen replied.

Fitz begged to differ but didn't say anything. They walked down the hallway dividing the dressing rooms and Stephen stopped before the door behind which he could hear a woman laughing. He knocked on the door and a brunette woman popped her head out. "Yes?"

"The President would like to thank Ms. Pope for her performance," Stephen replied.

The woman's head disappeared then reappeared quickly. "She's not ready yet."

"When will she be ready?"

Again, her head disappeared in the dressing room then reappeared. "Soon."

She disappeared a third time and the door shut with a finality that perturbed Fitz. He wasn't used to being kept waiting by anyone. He and Stephen exchanged a look then went back to the party. Fitz put on his best smile as he cut his enormous birthday cake. He was pleased at least that the cake was his favorite, chocolate with thick buttercream French vanilla frosting. He took a large piece for himself and another for Olivia, should she ever grace them with her presence.

In her dressing room, Olivia sat at the dressing table reapplying her eyeliner. She looked up at Quinn in the mirror. "Who was it?"

"The president and his brother. I think everyone's waiting for you," Quinn replied.

"Good." Olivia put on more lipstick then grinned at her reflection. She took her time fluffing her raven curls, darkening her beauty mark, humming to herself. Quinn sat on a couch, brushing Olivia's wrap.

xxxxx

Fitz was halfway through his piece of cake when a hush fell over the crowd near the door. He watched as the small groups parted like the Red Sea. Olivia stood before them, still clad in her sheer gown, withher wrap around her. He couldn't stop himself from smiling like he was sixteen. "There you are!"

She walked by everyone, smiling graciously as she accepted their compliments. Her smile brightened as she got closer to him, but she didn't quicken her pace. Her eyes were almost playful as she stopped before him. "Here I am."

"I saved you some cake." He couldn't think of anything else to say to her, and he wasn't normally a man who could be struck mute by a woman.

"That's very kind of you, Mr. President. Shall we?" Fitz stepped aside and allowed her to walk ahead of him toward the banquet table. Olivia sat at the head seat of the table and picked up her fork.

Fitz's eyebrows raised as he sat to her right. "You know you're in my seat, right?"

Olivia paused, her fork almost at her mouth, and looked at him in surprise. "Oh am I? I'm sorry. Do you want to switch?"

Fitz chuckled. "No, no. Don't put yourself out for me."

Olivia laughed and ate her cake. "Good cake."

"It's my favorite," Fitz replied with a smile. "So, Ms. Pope, what do you do when you're not being America's dream girl?"

She laughed lightly. "I don't think I'm America's dream girl. And if I am, America should probably wake up. But to answer your question, I've been doing a lot of painting lately. Silly watercolors, mind you, but it's fun to do when I'm stuck in the hotel waiting on show time."

"I'm sure they're lovely." Fitz couldn't imagine her doing anything that wasn't beautiful.

"I'll have to show you some time." She laughed then, her head falling back.

"What's funny?"

She shook her head. "I was laughing at myself for thinking you had the time to look at my silly paintings."

Fitz looked at her earnestly. "I'd like to see them. Really."

Olivia's smile was soft and warm. "That would be nice. But enough about me. You're the birthday boy. Tell me what you do when you're not running the world."

Fitz shrugged. "Not a lot. I sail sometimes, but I haven't seen my boat in months."

"Where is it?"

"My brother had it in Nantucket a few weeks ago so it's probably still docked there."

Olivia smiled. "Do you just leave your boat lying around anywhere?"

"My brother does. Stevie would leave his head behind if it wasn't attached to his neck."

They spent the next half hour ensconced in their own little world, talking about anything that came to mind. Olivia was sure it was just the stars in her eyes, but she was practically smitten. She knew Fitz was "politician" charming from the campaign trail, but she was surprised that he was actually an earnestly charming man. Mellie was all too pleased to break up their chat. She approached with her trademark smile, running her fingers through her thick dark hair. "It's time for pictures."

"Oh, do I have time to go touch up my lipstick?" Olivia asked as she stood.

"Sure," Fitz replied before Mellie could answer.

Olivia headed for the ladies' room and Mellie turned her eyes on her husband. "Well you're having fun."

Fitz smirked. "Don't start, Mel. I see Andrew found his way here."

Andrew Nichols had taken Fitz's vacated senatorial seat in California, and apparently had also taken his place in Mellie's bed. Mellie's smile twitched but she didn't lose her composure. "At least I have the decency to conduct my affair in private. You've told everyone who'll listen that you're Olivia Pope's number one fan."

"I've seen her movies. I haven't seen her naked."

"Yet." Mellie sneered.

"Whatever." Fitz turned away from her as Olivia reappeared. He couldn't help smiling.

"I'm all polished and perfect. Shall we?"

"Let's," he replied, offering her his arm.

xxxxx

"I think you might have had the most fun party I've been to all year," Olivia said as she draped her wrap over her shoulders.

"I'm sure that's not true. I've got nothing on Hollywood." Fitz shyly stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Would it be okay to call you some time?"

Olivia grinned playfully. "You're the President. I imagine you can call anyone you'd like."

"Believe it or not, I can't. The NSA doesn't give me access to phone numbers."

"I have a feeling you could get it if you wanted."

"It would be easier if you just gave it to me. Come on. I'm a nice guy. The American public thinks so, anyway."

Olivia laughed. "You're charming if nothing else."

Quinn approached to squeak that Olivia's limo had arrived and Olivia smiled at Fitz, wanting to string him along a little longer. But her time was slipping away. Fitz smiled. "It's only 10 numbers, numbers I bet you know by heart, numbers I promise to never repeat to anyone."

Olivia smiled and produced her eyeliner from her purse. She took Fitz's left hand but he pulled it back and offered his right instead. "I'm left-handed. It'll get smudged."

"And we wouldn't want that, now would we?" She painted her number onto his hand then left the arena with a little wave.

XXXXX

One Day Later

Olivia lay on the day bed in her sun room, almost asleep, when Quinn brought the phone in to her. "Phone."

"Who is it?" she asked sleepily.

"The President," Quinn whispered, mindful of the uncovered receiver.

Olivia smiled as she took the phone. "Hello."

"You're surprisingly hard to get a hold of," Fitz replied.

"Am I? I've been here all day."

"Asleep so your assistant told me."

Olivia giggled. "So what can I do for you, Mr. President?"

"What are you doing this weekend?"

"I'd have to check my calendar." Olivia knew she was free but she wanted to make Fitz sweat.

"Well if you're not busy, I'd like to see you. I'll be in Santa Ana. I'll have my boat."

"I'd like to say yes but I don't think your wife would approve." Olivia had caught quite the chill from Mellie's glare.

"She won't be there. She's going New York to campaign for orphans or music classes or something. It actually might be music programs for orphans. I'm not sure."

"So who will be there?"

"Me. And hopefully you."

"Well I suppose I'll go. There's nothing exciting going on here. And I'd hate for you to be on your boat alone."

"Good."

"Good." Olivia held the phone, expecting him to say goodbye, but he didn't. He seemed content to listen to her breathe. "I'd like to get back to my nap, Mr. President."

"Sweet dreams, Ms. Pope."

He hung up and Olivia let out a soft sigh. She didn't want to admit that she was smitten with the president. No good could come of it. But she couldn't stop herself, and he wasn't making it easy on her.

XXXXX

Saturday (One Week Later) · Santa Ana

Olivia descended the stairs of the private plane "anonymously" sent for her and smirked at the sight of a black town car. A man, undoubtedly secret service, stood before it. He nodded at her when she came to a stop before him and set down her brown leather weekend bag.

"Aren't you going to frisk me?" she asked with a teasing grin.

"I'd probably lose my hands for it," he answered, taking her bag and placing it in the trunk. Olivia wondered what he meant by the comment as he opened her door for her. She looked down at her long white sundress, hoping the car ride didn't crinkle the chiffon. She got into the car and smiled at a notecard sitting on the seat beside her. She picked it up and opened it, smiling at the slanted left-handed hand writing: See you soon. Hope you're ready to sail. FTGIII. She could almost laugh at his sweetness as she tucked the notecard into her blue and white nautical striped purse.

The car ride wasn't very long. The car came to a stop before a large Spanish-style house. Olivia wondered if it had been Fitz's house when he was a governor. She got out of the car and put her sunglasses on as she looked around at the other mansions. The agent appeared at her side. "This way, ma'am."

They walked up the house's walkway and the door opened. Another agent stood before them. He nodded at his co-worker then took the suitcase before turning to Olivia. "This way, ma'am. The President is expecting you."

Olivia nodded and followed the large man into the house's sunken living room. Fitz sat at the piano, twinkling the keys aimlessly. The agent set Olivia's bag on the floor and looked at his boss. "Sir, Ms. Pope is here."

Fitz turned away from the piano and smiled at Olivia as she approached him. She leaned on the piano's top and smiled at him. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied with a smile of his own. "You look nice, very beachy."

"You look very un-presidential." Fitz wore a yellow button down shirt and white linen pants. His hair was much messier than it had been at his party and he smelled like coconuts. Olivia guessed it was sunscreen. She looked down at the piano. "Do you play?"

"A bit. Nothing worth showing off." He stood and looked at the glass double doors. "Come out and see the pond."

Olivia followed him out the doors down a small walkway to a small pond surrounded by lilies. Olivia sat beside the pond and looked over into the clear water at the small fish flitting by. "This is nice. I should get one of these for my backyard."

Fitz sat next to her. "I don't know what it is about this particular spot, but I've seen some of the most beautiful sunsets ever right here."

They spent the rest of the evening in that spot. They had a light dinner of seared salmon and white wine as they watched the sun set. Olivia couldn't deny that it was breathtaking. She didn't know if it was particularly beautiful, or if it was just the smell of Fitz's clothes and the warmth of his hand on hers.

XXXXX

Sunday

Fitz sat on the dock watching as the Secret Service searched the boat before he could board it. He put on his sunglasses and looked back at the house, wondering what was taking Olivia so long. He guessed that she was just enjoying herself making him wait for her. He would have been lying if he said he wasn't at least a little curious and excited to see her. He hadn't seen her all day, not since the night before when she gave him the softest kiss outside her bedroom door. He was surprised that she hadn't invited him in, or joined him in his bed later that night. Her door hadn't been locked when he tried it in the middle of the night, but she was genuinely asleep when he crept into her bed. Still, he got the impression that she had been expecting him when she cuddled into his arms.

Olivia smiled at the back of his head as she leaned down to tap his shoulder. "Did I keep you waiting?"

"Yes," he replied with a smile as she sat on the dock beside him. She wore a sheer blue cover up over a white one piece swimsuit. Fitz had to drag his eyes away from her substantial cleavage. "You look nice."

She ran a hand through her loose curls. "I look like I just rolled out of bed. Quinn forgot my rollers."

"I think you look beautiful." Fitz didn't think anyone could ever be so beautiful. She wasn't wearing her usual makeup, her bedroom eyes and beauty mark missing, but she still wore her red lipstick.

Olivia blushed. "I've never been sailing, you know."

"It's a lot of fun. My dad taught me when I was six, and I've loved it ever since." The Secret Service signaled that the boat was clear and secure. Fitz stood and offered Olivia his hand to help her up. "Do you want a life jacket?"

"Are you planning to drown me?" Olivia asked as she stepped onto the boat.

Fitz chuckled as he joined her. "Not at the moment."

An agent in a lifejacket joined them and they set sail. Fitz moved from the steering seat, instructing the agent to take over and sat beside Olivia, pointing out things to her on the coastline. He opened the cooler and produced a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He handed one to Olivia then popped the cork on the bottle. "What should we toast to?"

"Good times with fun people," Olivia replied, holding out her glass for him to fill it.

"Here, here." He filled their glasses then clinked his with hers.

xxxxx

That night, Fitz stood in the shower letting the water run over his face. He and Olivia had dined on shrimp pasta and white wine. Olivia had more to drink than him, getting herself tipsy enough to sing and dance around the living room. After her song, she had collapsed on him on the couch, hiccupping tipsy giggles and kissing the sliver of his chest accessible through his open shirt collar. Fitz was surprised when she stood abruptly and announced she was going to change. He went to his own bedroom and got in the shower, wondering what game she was playing with him.

When the water turned cold, Fitz got out of the shower and dried off. He wrapped a towel around his waist and slicked his damp hair back then went into his bedroom. He was surprised to find Olivia sitting on his bed, wearing a red silk robe. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied, looking at her curiously.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Are you surprised I'm here?" she asked with a smile. She stood and opening her robe, revealing her red lingerie. "Isn't this why we're here, Mr. President?"

"I like that." Fitz didn't think there was anything sexier than her calling him Mr. President in such a soft, intimate tone. "Say it again."

Olivia giggled, her robe slipping off her right shoulder. "Mr. President."

He stepped closer and slipped the robe off her left shoulder, leaving her top half nearly bare except her red bra, which was really just lace. "Call me Fitz."

She smiled then, soft and teasing, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. "Wouldn't that be inappropriate?"

"I think we've already crossed that line, Liv." He pulled her body against his, pushing his scent into her nose. He smelled of soap, clean linen, the beach, and something musky, something oh so manly that Olivia knew she'd never forget.

"Fitz…" She giggled girlishly. "Do all your friends call you that?"

"No. My friends call me Gerry. But I like the way you say Fitz." He pulled her robe off completely, pulling her flush against him.

"Kiss me, Fitz." He never wanted her to call him anything but Fitz, and definitely not in any other tone than her soft, breathy voice.

He lowered his mouth onto hers, quickly easing his tongue into her mouth as he moved her back to the bed. Olivia reached behind her to unhook her bra, slipping the small lace garment off and letting it hit the floor. Fitz watched her nipples tighten into buds and his mouth watered. There was so much of her he wanted to touch and taste. One night wouldn't be enough. He got the distinct feeling that once she was in his bed, she'd never be out of his head.

Olivia lay on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows to watch him as he looked at her. He seemed almost entranced by her body as he reached for the waistband of her lace panties. "Do you like these? They're French. A Duke sent them to me."

"A Duke sent you lingerie?" Fitz wanted to be jealous, thinking of how many men must have fallen in love with Olivia every day. She lived with a careless grace that told him all women should be her understudies.

She rolled onto her side, biting the tip of her index finger. "He was a big fan."

Fitz looked over the dip of the small of her back, the arch of her hip, the contour of her calf. He couldn't get over the flow of her lines. He climbed onto the bed with her, settling himself behind her. Her hair smelled like heaven, something soft and fruity, and her skin was so soft and supple beneath his fingers that he was sure he'd never stop touching her. He was a moth to a flame, eager to be burned by her.

Olivia moved her right leg back over his and took his hand to guide it between her legs. "Have you been dreaming of this?"

"Yes," he replied instantly, his fingers ghosting her sex.

"Me too," Olivia breathed, her pulse quickening as his touch became more deliberate, more confident.

It didn't take long for her scent to fill the air along with her soft moans. Fitz thought he would come out of his skin as he slid off the bed and pulled her to the edge of it to drape her legs over his shoulders. The scent of her scorched through him. Her fruity shampoo and vanilla-scented lotion were one thing— but this… the aroma unique to only her His mouth watered as his world tipped. He put his mouth to her without a second though, lapped his tongue up the length of her slit then again and again as if the taste of her could quench his thirst.

Olivia inhaled sharply, her fingers desperately tangling themselves in her hair. She wasn't sure what to think. It was all so new to her. Most men only wanted her for their pleasure. She was usually the one on her knees, the one giving the kind of taboo pleasure that the other wasn't getting at home.

"You taste so good, Livvie." She almost didn't hear him, his voice muffled by her puffy lips. And then he bit her. Olivia's back arched like she was possessed, her fingers pulling on his curls wantonly as she stuttered a hoarse scream.

"Oh Fitz, I need you," she moaned, reaching for his shoulders desperately to pull him on top of her. Fitz kissed his way up her lips. One of her legs draped over his hip. The other spread wide, inviting him where she wanted him most. Fitz's lips found the aching tip of her left breast, lapping at it gently with his tongue. Olivia's hips bucked, rubbing her core against his. Fitz groaned against her neck. She was so hot, so wet. He couldn't help him. He pushed inside her fully, earning a moan from both of them. It took all his restraint to hold still, to let her adjust. He could only partially open his eyes to look at her.

"I'm sorry. Did that hurt? Are you—" And then he felt it. Faint ripples in her channel that made the arch of her back sharpen as she pushed closer to him. She bit the shell of his ear, made his nails dig into her flesh. Fitz couldn't restrain himself then. His pulled her legs onto his shoulders, setting a rapid pace with his hips as she writhed beneath him. Olivia felt like a dancer, gyrating for his blazing blue eyes. She reached above her, clawing for the headboard or anything steady to hold onto.

The sight of her made him breathless with want. Red marks, the signs of his lips and teeth marking their territory, were beginning to appear on her chest and neck. Her eyes were closed tight, her bottom lip between her teeth. He leaned over and stole it from her, pulling the plum flesh between his own teeth. It wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough. He'd have to live the rest of his life inside her to even come close to being satisfied.

"More, more, more, love," she pleaded, letting go of the headboard to hold his hair with one hand and dig her nails into his back with the other.

That did it. Fitz kissed her hard, sucking on her tongue, plundering her until her cries echoed off the walls and she shuddered against him. He buried his face in her neck as she reached her peak, her back arching almost to the point of pain as she clung to him. Her core gripped him so tightly that he couldn't take the tension anymore. Her nails dug into his neck and he snapped, roared against her slick flesh as his hips took on a life of their own, stroking and rolling. Olivia moved with him, kissing and murmuring as she rode the waves of her climax.

It seemed like forever had passed before their hearts stopped racing. Olivia relaxed beneath him, her legs still around him. She ran her fingers through his hair as he lay with his head on her shoulder, peppering soft kisses on her neck.

"Wow," she whispered, her eyes half-lidded.

Fitz looked up at her with a smile. "Wow? I just gave you my best moves and that's all you've got? You know, I could have you executed."

Olivia laughed, soft and quiet, her fingers still playing in his hair. "What should I say then, Mr. President?"

"I don't know. Come up with something better than that though." His lips nipped her shoulder.

"You're the best ever. You've ruined me for all men. My life is changed beyond repair." She gave him a cheeky smile. "Is that better?"

"Much." He kissed her, sweet and lazy, then nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "You know, today is my actual birthday."

Olivia looked up at him in surprise. She had known his birthday was a week or so after the party but she didn't know the exact date. She kissed his cheek. "Happy birthday, Mr. President."

Neither was sure what would happen when they parted the next morning. But they weren't very concerned. They both knew they couldn't just walk away from whatever was between them.

A/N: Don't forget to review! XOXOXOXO