Disclaimer: I sadly do not own anything in Fringe. If I did, I would…nothing actually. I am very happy with the writers right now, yes yes.

Spoilers: MASSIVE for 3x14 "6B"

Rating: This is smut, people. M.

A/N: I have started this post-episode (episodic?) fic at 2am, after watching 6B. Once I had stopped crying. But then I was crying again XD And I basically spent every minute of free time I had this weekend on this (huge) oneshot. So yeah, I will fail school this semester because I'm incapable of not spending my weekends writing polivia fics.

This story starts where the show stopped them. No "Fade To Black" here, uh uh, this is a smut fic for a reason. Incidentally, I am not a professional smut writer (I'm looking at the marvelously talented Kadyn, here), and smut is incredibly hard for me to write in English (it does require some specific vocabulary). But I did my best, and both Olivia and Peter approved. I hope you will too XD

Last note: I have been told that Peter channels Mr. Darcy in this, and now that I have seen the scene from the movie, he clearly does; you'll get it if you have seen the movie lol I guess it makes me an incredible romantic for coming up with it too lmao.

And I have just realized that this is my 50th story posted on ffnet. Double celebration! :'D

This is unbetaed, and written by an overly emotional and happy French fangirl. I LOVE YOU GUYS.

AS YOU WISH

As she felt his lips tenderly graze her cheek, she couldn't help but smile. Such a romantic thing to do. And as always when her mind was overpowered by a wild range of emotions, a random memory popped into her head.

"Behind every cynic is a frustrated romantic."

This was indeed going to be beautiful.

She opened her eyes then, and looked. She was almost surprised when she saw no trace of the Glimmer that had stopped her the last time. It was just Peter.

He looked at her inquisitively, obviously thinking about the same thing. "Am I glowing?"

She looked into his eyes, his beautiful eyes; they were bright again. They were twinkling with that light that had hypnotized her so many times before, and that had been missing ever since she had come back. Another thing Olivia had believed she had taken away. But it was back, now.

And it was just him. No Glimmer, no fear.

She smiled, shaking her head softly. "No."

It was just Peter, and it was just her. If you had asked her two days ago if she would ever feel confident about them, she might have laughed. Life seemed to be a succession of one confusing event after the other, but Peter and what she was supposed to do about this won all the awards.

Funny what a few honest exchanges could do. Incredibly, Olivia felt almost serene at that instant.

'I want what you want.'

Did he really want to spend his life next to her? To build new memories, to erase the pain of their pasts, to become so close that in forty years, they wouldn't be able to live without one another?

This was idealistic at best, and so unlike the cynic Peter was most of the time. They didn't even know if they would still be alive six months from now. According to Walter, once the Universe really started to break apart, it could all be over very quickly. There would be no time for years and years of memories, of pictures, of traveling…of kids, maybe. There was no time for a lifetime spent with him, and Olivia knew that.

There was no harm in dreaming about it, though. In believing in it, in believing in the fact that there was still hope for them. Like he had told her, she had been the one stopping them from moving on, and even though she'd had valid reasons, she had a hard time remembering any of them right now, as she stared and stared into his eyes.

This was their moment. It was time for her to take everything back.

And so she took his hand.

Serenity soon started to leave her again, though, as she led them to his room, fingers intertwined. The calm she had felt was now quickly being replaced by something rawer and more intense. With every step they took, the soft music coming from the hall faded away, and by the time they reach the door of his room, she could hear nothing but her pounding heart against her ears as it thumped beneath her ribs. This was not nervousness, not really. It still made her whole body react in different obvious ways, from her suddenly shallow breathing to her slightly quivering fingers. She ignored it all, entering his room, looking for the light switch.

But before she could find it, she felt his free hand on her cheek, and she turned to face him, raising her eyes to meet his. Despite the lack of luminosity, the sparkle in his eyes was still the only thing she saw, and the shivers intensified. His fingers gently brushed her chin, and he tilted his head, the softest smile on his lips.

"Olivia, we don't have to do anything tonight," he said almost in a whisper. "You know I'll wait as long as you need to. Having you here with me right now is more than I could have hoped for only two days ago."

Her chest tightened, her throat briefly closing up, almost swept away by his honesty, the intensity of his gaze. So she raised her own hand to mimic him, cupping his face and adoring the simple feel of his stubble under her palm.

"I know," she said softly, managing a smile.

She wanted to tell him just how much she wanted this, how much she needed him. But she couldn't say anything else, lost for words as his eyes and the feel on his hand on her face were enough to make her feel almost intoxicated. And so she did what she did best tonight.

She kissed him, pushing herself up, her fingers digging slightly into his cheek. He responded immediately, his hand leaving her face so he could wrap both his arms around her again, holding her body close to his, so close and yet not close enough as their lips brushed and teased.

There was no interruption this time, and so they both deepened the kiss by common accord, mouths opening. When her tongue found his, she was momentarily blinded by the sudden feeling of deep craving and raw satisfaction that surged through her, tasting him and the liquor they had drunk a few minutes ago, and feeling his hands grab her buttocks under her coat, pressing her harder against him and the fast growing evidence of his arousal; she moaned against his lips.

She got lost into him and into the feel of their bodies pressed so tightly together, incapable of keeping herself from rocking slightly against him, and soon it was his turn to groan. What had started as a soft and tender kiss was now a passionate and wild battle of dominance, none of them really willing to yield to the other, and yet both ready to break at any instant.

In one swift movement, he moved them around and she felt her back hit the wall, not hard enough to hurt her, but with enough force to send another rush of endorphin through her veins. His hands firmly pressed between the wall and her, she tightly wrapped an arm around his neck again, her other hand gripping his sweater so tightly that she might tear the fabric apart. Not that she cared much, really, because what little coherent thoughts she had left completely escaped her mind when he used his well placed hands to lift her up slightly. It opened up just enough room for one of his legs to come between hers, pressing his thigh hard against her throbbing core. She let go of his mouth with a rasping gasp, her head falling back against the wall.

He moved his hands, and she slid down slightly, increasing the pressure in the process, the rest of his body still maintaining her against the wall. He grabbed her scarf, which found itself on the floor within seconds. Since she was still gasping for air, head thrown back, her neck was now exposed, and he used the opportunity to bring his mouth down to her pulsing point.

When she felt his tongue on her skin, her legs weakened dramatically, and she moaned again; the delicious, throbbing ache she felt deep inside was almost unbearable. God she was so incredibly needy it was almost ridiculous. She felt so dizzy, so close already, and they hadn't done anything yet. She still had her coat on for Christ's sake!

"Peter," she gasped, pushing her hands against his chest, just hard enough for him to stop his expert exploration of her neck with his teeth and tongue.

He looked at her, taking in her flushed cheeks, ragged breathing and hazy gaze, and he couldn't help a wicked smile. "Head rush?" he teased her. But he did lessen the pressure, backing off just enough so her feet completely touched the floor again.

"Shut up," she breathed out, but there was a slightly groggy smile on her lips. She forced herself to let go of his neck, and looking down, she started to unbutton her coat with shaky fingers, because really, she was way too hot and there were too many clothes on her. But he put his fingers on hers, and she raised her head to look at him, forgetting to breathe again for a second.

"Let me do that," he said, and his voice was too low, too deep, sending yet another shiver down her spine.

Slowly, way too slowly, he unbuttoned her coat and the jacket underneath. And with every button he opened, he let his fingers brush her chest; even through the layer of her shirt, his fingers were igniting her flesh, and he had yet to touch her skin. He never took his focus away from her face, though, staring deep into her eyes; he perfectly knew just how much he was affecting her, judging by his small, almost arrogant smile. She shook her head slightly, trying to give him a glare that should have been disapproving, but she was approving too much to disapprove.

Eventually, the last button was opened, and he slipped both his hands inside over her shoulders, beneath not only her coat but also her jacket, and she melted again at the feel of his palms sliding over her shoulder blades, before he moved his hands deeper inside to get the clothes off her. She moved from the wall so both jacket and coat could fall away, landing in a heap at her feet, and by doing so, she completely leaned against him again. With a sigh, she pressed her face against his chest, eyes closed, breathing deep into his scent; as soon as her arms were free, she wrapped them tightly around his middle.

She felt dizzy again, but it wasn't because of their proximity. And yet, it was. She now felt emotionally overwhelmed, as she moved her head slightly to rest her ear on his chest, hearing the fast drum of his heart. She had been longing for that kind of closeness ever since she had crossed back over and seen him sitting near her hospital bed. She had awoken feeling dazed, half convinced that this was a dream; until her eyes had found his, so sad and broken but oh, so his.

And once again, he had made her feel grounded.

I'm home.

What had she hoped for, back then? She didn't remember anymore, weeks of pain and heartbreaks having washed away the delightful feelings of optimism and happiness that had taken over her during those first few, ignorant days. All she knew was that she had wanted this; his body warmth, his scent, his breath in her hair, the knowledge that she could hold on to him and he wouldn't let her go.

"I've missed you…" she whispered against his sweater, eyes tightly closed, as his hands gently rubbed her back, slowly making their way up, and he brought his mouth near her ear.

"I've missed you." He whispered back, and then his fingers were tugging on her ponytail holder.

He gently freed her hair from the ponytail, but it still hurt slightly; the sting was bearable, though, just like the ache that invaded her heart again when she heard how he insisted on 'you'. She knew what he implied. She sincerely wished she could keep her away from her thoughts, from this room, at least for tonight.

But she knew it wasn't possible, not after everything that had happened. She was going to linger on her mind, just like she would linger on his. And she could deal with it, really.

She just didn't want him to lie.

So she took her head off his chest to look up at him, her hair falling on her shoulders and back as she shook her head slightly. "You don't have to say that," she said softly. "We both know you didn't know I was missing."

Despite the fact that there was no hint of accusation in her voice, she almost regretted her words, because he clenched his jaw then, the way he always did when he was upset, and she saw the pain flash in his eyes. But he brought his hands up to her face again, burying his fingers into her hair, and his eyes traveled over her face, as if he was taking in every detail.

"Olivia…" he said softly. "I might not have known that you were gone, I might have made myself believe that I was the reason for the changes…But these changes…She wasn't you. I see that now. And I've missed you."

He kissed her forehead then, slowly but firmly, and she felt the possessive hold of his fingers in her hair. "I've missed you," he whispered against her skin. He kissed her cheek. "I've missed you." He kissed her nose, her closed eyelids, the corner of her mouth, and for every kiss, he whispered the same words, words that were digging their way into her heart, making it hard to breathe. "I've missed you, I've missed you, I've missed you…"

When he fell silent again, his face was so close to hers that she could feel his every intake of breath on her lips. But she stayed still, eyes closed, letting it all sink in, every feeling battling within her; she allowed herself a moment because she felt like she was on the verge of letting it all out, of breaking down again.

But this time, it wasn't caused by despair or sheer heartbreak like she had experienced weeks ago on her apartment's floor. This was rather the opposite; for weeks she had been sure that his own sadness wasn't only caused by the fact that she had rejected him. She had somehow been convinced that he was also missing her, missing that better version of her, and the note Simon had given her a couple of weeks ago had only reinforced the feeling that she was just not good enough.

Not good enough for him to look for her, in the eyes of this other Olivia, if not in that dark room in which she had been held prisoner.

But something had shifted, as she came to realize that he was choosing her. That it had always been her, and that the only thing he was waiting for now was her permission to let him prove it to her.

Olivia opened her eyes, and she was instantly swallowed by the depth of his gaze. It was almost enough to unravel her, feeling so exposed at that instant because there was no doubt he was reading deep into her soul. Staying calm and in control of her emotions seemed almost futile, she knew it was a lost battle; she could win almost every battle sent her way, but her heart was helpless when it came to Peter. But she remembered what she had told him last night, and what he had said.

"Maybe I'm just incapable of being vulnerable."

"Olivia, come on, you know that that's not true."

Vulnerability was terrifying, though; she had always done her best to be anything but vulnerable, because being vulnerable meant she had to let go of all her defenses, putting herself out there, bare and exposed. She was too used to always keeping some kind of wall around herself for her to just…let it go.

Yet, she somehow knew he would get every bit of her tonight.

There was nothing she could say that could possibly convey everything she was feeling at that instant. And so she crashed her lips against his, kissing him fiercely and quite desperately, but she didn't care. She didn't care because he was here and he was hers and he was kissing her back with the same amount of hunger and need. Within seconds her whole brain was fogged again, her body humming against his, every nerve under her skin awaiting only a brush of his touch to burst into flames.

Arms still around him, her hands grabbed both his sweater and the shirt underneath, tugging them out of his pants, and both his mouth and hands reluctantly let go of her as she pulled higher with every intend to free him of this layer of clothes. With his help, both items joined her coat and jacket on the floor, and she splayed her hands over his bare chest, feeling his pounding heart under her palm, goosebumps already rising under the feel of her hands, cooler than his body. To know that she was responsible for these reactions made her feel powerful. She took her eyes away from the more than pleasant view of his chest to look into his eyes, letting him know just how much he was hers without a single word.

With a low grunt, he brought her to him again, wrapping an arm around her waist, his fingers finding their way under the hem of her shirt. The feel of his hand on the bare skin of her hip made her gasp, but he swallowed the sound by claiming her mouth again, biting down on her bottom lip, and then soothing the plump flesh with a sweep of his tongue. She moaned, gripping his hair and pressing herself against his chest as the kiss deepened again. His chest was so warm she thought he might make her shirt combust, and she could barely wait to feel his blazing skin against her own; the simple thought of it was enough to increase the ache, which was back in full force, throbbing more heatedly than ever.

She was as intoxicated by his lips and tongue as she was by his hands, which were now moving all over her, apparently unable to settle, grabbing her waist, fingers tracing their way up her spine under her tight shirt, creating shivers of anticipation in their wake, palms on her cheeks again, hands back in her hair, and then they were back under her shirt. When he pressed his palm against her burning stomach, his fingers only slightly slipping beneath the waistband on her pants, she took a raspy intake of breath again, her insides contracting.

His fingers finally settled on the buttons of her shirt, and she opened her eyes, their darkened gazes immediately finding each other, as he obviously intended on never taking his eyes away from her tonight.

"Just tear it off," she breathed out, and he chuckled as he worked on the buttons, pressing a soft kiss on her lips. "I'm not kidding, I don't care, I have ten other shirts like this one."

"You might need a shirt to get out of the house tomorrow, though," he said, amused, unbuttoning the third button.

He was clearly going as fast as he could this time, sensing her impatience and knowing she had a gun in her coat. But it still wasn't fast enough.

"I'll use one of yours," she answered, dead serious, staring into his eyes. She could almost see the thought process going on in his brain, as he pictured her wearing one of his shirt. Wearing only his shirt.

Next second, there was a tearing noise and buttons went flying. She might have laughed if she hadn't been so desperate to get rid of her clothes now, to finally be skin against skin. So she helped him as much as she could to take off her ruined shirt, and as soon as it was thrown on the floor with the rest, she reached behind to unhook the clasp of her black bra.

He gave her a disapproving look. "Hey, that's not fair; I'm supposed to do that."

"Next time," was all she said as this other piece of clothing slid down her arms, falling on the floor and leaving her exposed. Now he wasn't looking into her eyes anymore.

The warm flush in her cheek and on her chest increased, but it wasn't because she was feeling self-conscious. Oh she was feeling his eyes on her alright, but it only made her feel dizzier; knowing that he had already seen her naked -and more than once- was a very confusing concept to wrap her head around, but at the same time it erased all kind of nervousness she might have felt otherwise.

But as he really kept on staring, she started to wonder if he was comparing, and heart squeezed painfully. No. She wouldn't allow her thoughts to go there.

But how could she not?

"Peter," she called his name in a whisper and he finally looked up at her again. Something must have shown on her face or in her eyes because he immediately brought his hands to her face again, kissing her softly, then firmly, then slowly.

She locked her arms around his neck, pressing her bare breasts against his chest, and as she had imagined, the warmth consumed her. He brought his hands down again, and slowly picked her up, until she wrapped her legs around him, her hair falling in curtains of golden locks around their heads as they kissed. He moved them around, and her stomach sank deliciously when he suddenly brought them down on his bed. She didn't move her legs from around his waist though, hoping that he would increase the pressure where she needed him the most.

But he was staring deep into her eyes now, and slowly, he grabbed her hands, bringing them up above her head. She could hardly suppress her need to arch against him. His lips found hers again, opened and welcoming, sharing yet another slow and passionate kiss. When she tried to bring her hands to his hair so he would get closer, always closer, there was a resistance. He was still holding them up on the mattress, with just enough force that she could not get away from his hold.

When he let go of her lips, it was only to start a slow descent down to her breasts, starting with her tensed neck, nibbling her flesh and tracing a sinuous path with his tongue, making her squirm, going down, down, until his mouth found her rounded breast. He blew cold air on her nipple, which somehow hardened even more, and it's all it took to make her moan; the sound coming out of her throat only got louder when air was replaced by the wet feel of his lips and tongue.

She was completely incapable of stopping herself this time, her back arching off the bed as he continued with his slow torture, trying to give both breasts equal attention; her lower abdomen was now a pool of liquid fire, as he sent not jolts but waves of pleasure down her core.

"Peter…" she half-gasped, half-moaned, sounding desperate, feeling desperate.

She needed him, she needed to put her hands on him, but he wouldn't let go, still holding her hands pressed upon the mattress. Hearing her plea, though, he finally let her go. With a content sight, she buried her fingers in his hair, keeping his mouth exactly where she wanted it to be, as he brought his free hand to the breast his mouth was neglecting, and she fell deeper into the smoldering haze.

She eventually used her grasp on his hair to quietly ask him to come back to her, tugging gently. He complied, scattering kisses on her skin on his ways back to her face, and soon she was lost into his eyes again, into the feel of his body against hers, and she completely lost her grasp on reality when he started kissing her again, with so much devotion and hunger that it was almost painful.

This was far worse and far better than a head rush. It was true that she hadn't had sex since John had died, and that kind of frustration was definitely playing a part in her current neediness. But it was more than that, so much more.

He was everywhere, he was everything, the only thing she could see, the only thing she could smell and feel. And the feel of his body over hers, of his skin against her skin, mixing warmth and sweat, there was no word. She could hardly breathe, the air getting caught in her throat, blocked by a rising moan that she could barely suppress, until another one arose.

Peter…his name resonated inside her head, within her chest, Peter…Peter…thumping low, thumping hard, thumping deep, running through her veins and bringing her closer, always closer.

She was too close.

"Peter," she gasped his name against his mouth, palms against his chest, trying to maybe create some kind of distance between their bodies before she completely lost herself. But he wouldn't nudge, and once again she found herself mesmerized by his eyes.

"It's alright, 'Livia…" he said softly against her lips. "Just let go. Let go."

And he lowered himself then, and even through the layers of their pants, the feel of his own arousal between her legs drew another deep moan out of her, until he muffled the sound with his lips. She clung to his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh.

There was no more coherent thought in her mind, only him, only the feel of him as he thrust against her, and she met his hips, bringing her deeper into the aching and blinding heat. She knew she was beyond the point of non-return now; there was no point in fighting it anymore.

And so she let go.

She let herself go as he moved and she moved with him, and he freed her lips to stare at her as she came undone beneath him, shattering into a million pieces. And he was the only thing she could see, up until this instant when white light took over her vision, shutting everything down as she rid that wave, calling out his name.

The very first thing she realized when she came down was that the light around Peter hadn't gone anywhere. And she instantly recognized it. Her breathing, which was already unsteady and loud, became erratic, and he knew that something was wrong.

"What is it?" he asked, puzzled, bringing a hand up to cup her burning cheek.

"You're glimmering," she almost chocked, trying to catch her breath, but all she could see was the light moving around him, and she didn't understand, she didn't.

"Are you…scared?" He asked with a frown, and she shook her head firmly.

"Are you kidding?" she breathed out. "I just had the most intense orgasm of my life, and we still have our pants on."

He couldn't help but chuckle, the sound vibrating through her. "Well, maybe that's just it."

"What ?" She asked, one of her hand up in her hair now, still trying to bring her breathing to a study rhythm, but she was incredibly distracted by his…glowing state.

"What 'activate' your abilities –so to speak- are acute emotions." He said in his 'matter-of-factly' voice. "So far it's been fear, but we can obviously extend the list."

To both their surprise, she let out a snort of laughter then, and she moved her hand from her hair to her mouth, as he arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

"You…you've just activated me," she managed to say, before she started laughing again.

It wasn't even funny, really, but she was feeling almost delirious, once again overwhelmed by everything happening right now, by all those conflicting feelings. Was she doomed to see him glimmer every now and then, now? She didn't really like this constant reminder that he wasn't from her world.

That he didn't belong here.

"Hey, hey," he said softly, concerned contracting his face now, and she realized just then that her laughter had turned into something else. "Olivia, it's alright." He kissed her cheek tenderly, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, closing her eyes firmly so she couldn't see the Glimmer anymore, forcing herself to calm down.

"I'm a freak…" she murmured against his skin.

He forced their bodies slightly apart, staring hard at her. "You are not a freak," he said firmly. "Olivia," his fingers grazed her cheek, brushing away a lock of hair, before he ran his thumb over her lips. "You are…extraordinary."

Her breathe caught in her throat again, as they stared at one another, and she tried to swallow past the painful lump in her throat.

Never before had she felt more vulnerable, and he was telling her without the shadow of a doubt that she was extraordinary.

Before he could see the tears quickly invading her eyes, she brought his face down to hers, kissing him, kissing him with all her might, and it wasn't long at all before the ache was back, and with it the intense, unbearable need for him, which overpowered her again.

The time to get rid of their pants was way overdue.

She kicked her shoes off and he did just the same, not even stopping their kiss to do so. Her hands started to run down his chest to take care of his pants, but he beat her to it, moving her hands away gently, so he could take care of hers. He popped it open, unzipped it, and didn't lose any time this time, grabbing her soaked panties at the same time, sliding everything down her legs. Squirming and wriggling, she kicked the clothes off, even though she got incredibly distracted when he ran one of his hands along her thigh. But before he got to the most interesting part, he fully rolled off her so he could get rid of his own excess of clothing, leaving her completely naked and exposed. She instantly felt incredibly cold without his body against hers.

But he was back above her within the next twenty seconds, and she let out a loud sigh as every inch of their bare skins finally met. The sigh turned into a longing moan though, as she felt his erection press hard against her inner thigh. The fact that he was attacking the pulsing point of her neck with his teeth and tongue again only drove her wilder.

She felt so utterly intoxicated by him.

But now she could act, too. And she felt a surge of great satisfaction when he groaned against her neck as she took him in her hand, stroking him. She was done waiting, though, more than two years of foreplay being more than enough in her book, and so she brought him towards her entrance, only waiting for him to make his move now.

He raised his head, leaving the crook of her neck, and he gently leaned his forehead against hers, staring deep into her eyes. Both her hands were on his arms now, her fingers running over the strong flesh of his biceps. And she stared back, her whole body seeming to vibrate with anticipation and relief, because she felt like she was just where she belonged. He didn't ask her if she was sure about this, there was no need. Her eyes were dark and hazy, but they were also honest and confident. He still glimmered above her, but it was okay, it was okay, it was yet just another proof of how deeply she loved him. She squeezed his arms lightly, and he nodded almost imperceptibly against her forehead; supporting himself on one of his forearm, he brought a hand down to lift her up, and slowly, he started to enter her warmth. Air instantly rushed out of her lungs, swept away by the mere feeling of him gradually becoming one with her.

There was no questioning the fact that she could live her life without him; she had done it, had been through weeks and months of loneliness. She could do it all, would do it all again if she had to. But nothing compared to this, this incredible feeling of completeness, and even if she could survive without it, she didn't want to.

He was so beautiful, the look on his face indescribable as he lost himself into her, moving, thrusting, hips grinding and meeting, finding a rhythm, and she moved with him, enthralled by the feel of him, the feel of them, but also by the sight of him.

His shining aura almost made him look like an angel. And he was all hers, hers, hers.

She voluntarily clenched her inner muscles around him to prove that point, and he moaned, closing his eyes and burying his face in her neck again as he pushed himself even deeper into her, her fingers digging into his back, now covered with a thin layer of sweat. And once again, she allowed herself to be completely rocked away by the raising wave, letting the warmth take control of everything, their bodies now moving together in a very feral way, opening herself up to him literally and figuratively. He brought his face back to hers, kissing her in a way that made her crave for even more.

Every inch of her skin seemed to be burning, jolts of electricity running through her body and igniting every nerves ending. She felt in phase, she felt complete and she felt so aware.

Too aware, she realized then.

Something was happening. She could barely figure out what, though, as her rational mind had completely been taken over by the sensations surging through her entire being. She opened her eyes and for an instant saw nothing but the glowing light around his face. But she realized just then what was wrong.

All around them, the air was shaking, quivering, being distorted by a force she knew came from her and her alone.

Anxiety suddenly washed over her, only to disappear a second later as Peter's next thrust brought her closer to edge than ever before and she moaned his name.

"Peter," she gasped, trying to clear her head, because this was not good, this was not good at all, she had only experienced this a few times and she knew exactly what was happening. "Peter, I'm crossing over!"

To her immense surprise, he smiled at her and said: "I know, I feel it too." And on those words, he forcefully brought their bodies together again, and she forgot why she was worrying so much. "I've got you…" he breathed in her ear then, and she completely lost herself again.

When she went over that bottomless precipice of incredible bliss and fell down its infinite depth, they literally went through the fabric of the worlds. She had no awareness of where they were or what was happening, but the intensity of it was nothing short of earth-shattering. She felt weightless, bodiless, it was only sensations and him and them, and god this was going to be the end of everything.

But as suddenly as it had happened, she felt the very real steadiness of the mattress beneath her, the air stable and unmoving, and she was very aware of Peter and the way their bodies were so tightly intertwined, both of them trying to catch their breath. She moved her arms and legs a little despite the fact that she felt drained, just too make sure that nothing had blended together. It hadn't, and that was a very good thing.

"Oh god," she exclaimed then, one hand in his hair, the other one in her own, and he laughed against her neck. "Oh god, Peter, tell me this wasn't freaky."

He raised his head to look at her, looking just as drained as she felt, but also looking very satisfied, judging by his grin.

"Peter, this isn't funny," she scowled, shaking her head lazily. "We…crossed over, or something similar."

His grin widened. "Olivia, I don't think you realize what this means." She raised an eyebrow. "Do you know how many guys can say that they've made their girlfriend so happy that she literally traveled between universes?"

Oh, of course he would choose to be a smart-ass about this. She glared at him, despite the fact that she was feeling way too spent and satisfied to be really annoyed at him. "Can't you take this seriously?"

He pursed his lips, rolling off her then, but he brought her with him so she was the one laying on top of him. "Tomorrow, maybe. Right now, I'm just gonna enjoy the naked woman in my bed."

She couldn't help but grin against his chest. She rested her cheek above his heart, sighing, knowing that it wouldn't be long before sleep took her. He was right; they could worry about this later. Ask Walter maybe…then again, no.

And then he spoke again.

"You do realize that it's going to make it impossible for you to fake an orgasm ever, right?"

FADE TO BLACK

A/N: As if she would ever need to fake, right? XD Remember I was high on Polivia!Having!Sex!For!Realz when I wrote this.

And they forgot the condom *sighs* Mini!Peanuts everywhere.

Please come squee in a review, I would love you as much as Olivia loves Peter right now!

EDIT: I added a new chapter! Morning!After goodness for you guys :D