So… I had this idea in my head for a while and finally had a few moments to put it to paper. Rated M for some delicious Polivia, because all know we're going through withdrawals. I'd place this sometime after 4x06, "And Those We Left Behind".

If you're new to my stories I encourage you to check out some of my other fics, you won't be disappointed! I've got another season 3 Polivia!smut story up you'll enjoy! For those returning, expect new chapters of "Crossroads" and "The Shade of Poison Trees" coming within the next two weeks! (I start a new job Monday that's full time, don't hate me!) Reviews are always appreciated!

Easy Listening

His lips were magic and his fingers divine- each digit a spirited entity that made her skin singe as he touched her and felt simply… heavenly. Everything about him was god-like. The mess of his hair, smooth skin between his lips, his firm muscles, the rough way his stubble scratched against her chest, even his eyes were all carefully crafted it seemed. This unknown, comforting face let his lips delicately linger over the crevice of her neck, applying a gentle suction next to her throat that made her insides rattle and her body twist with pleasure. She let a silent moan pass her lips, too far gone now to let any sound escape her mouth. His hands gripped her hips and tracing the dotted goose bumps that rose over her heated body as a cold shiver shot down her spine, nestling somewhere deep in her abdomen. Her heart pounded rabidly against her ribs as he moved against her, fingernails digging deliciously into her skin as this mysterious man moved against her, made love to her in ways Olivia couldn't possibly dream of.

Deep sea blue eyes gazed down into hers as his lips captured hers again, swallowing yet another ragged moan as she looped her arm around his neck and pulled him closer. Dragging his teeth against her lower lip Olivia smiled as his mouth pressed upon that sweet spot on her breast as his nimble finger slipped between their colliding bodies and found her trigger. Applying a gentle pressure he tugged on her slick skin, begging for her to become undone underneath him. His rustic voice whispered her name into her ear as he pressed his hips into hers. With one hand grasping his neck, the other balled into the sheets as he adjusted once again and gripped her thigh, grunting against her shoulder.

God, she was so close. She could feel the fire growing deep within her, a wild, ravishing storm that ignited as he continued to touch her; his mouth rubbing circles over her as he panted her name into her shoulder. Sweat coated their bodies as he smiled against her lips, silently begging to watch that wave crash. As her back arched, her muscles tensed and her eyes glowed, Olivia couldn't help but half laugh and half moan at the pleased, smug look on his face. Silently she counted down in her head before that fire exploded.

Three… two…

She shuttered as she woke, pupils dilating rapidly to accommodate the ever-present darkness that wrapped itself around her, a cool presence that made her skin tense with the sudden loss of heat. Olivia blinked, breathing rapidly as she swallowed and gained her surroundings once again. She was home, in bed… alone, that much she was able to deduce. Wiping her moist forehead she sighed as the clock blinked close to three in the morning. Her comforter twisted around her like a snake, constricting her movements as tried to free herself from its fabric constraints. Once she unraveled herself from the quilted boa she sat up and sighed, frustrated. Putting her head in her lap she grunted. No, not frustrated, she decided.

It was that dream again, of that man. He was a blue-eyed enigma that had suddenly surfaced only last week and put a name to the face she dreamed about. Every time she saw him it'd be on a bench in a park, or at a table in the lab. It'd be just them, his smile and gaze always put her at ease. She never heard his voice, just saw his face. His beautiful eyes, the stubble on his chin, everything about this mysterious man had made her feel safe. But the past week her dreams were different. They were vivid, dark and extremely non-satisfying; always keeping her dangled over a precipice until that fateful moment when she let go and kept falling, awaking just before she hit the bottom.

"This is pathetic," she muttered to the dark corners, her head in her hands. Never mind she hadn't slept with anyone since John died, but now that his man was here, was she really dreaming about him in that context?

Peter Bishop was a stranger, a nomad, hell an escaped criminal if she could have guessed. But ever since he showed up in her life all she could think about was him.His smug grin, his hard hands, his beautiful eyes did things to her she literally dreamed of. Each time she saw him something made her heart sink into her stomach and her breath hitch in her throat, her fingers and toes go pleasantly numb.

Before thinking she threw the comforter to the side she grabbed a pair of yesterday's jeans and a black t-shirt, pulled her hair into a messy bun and headed out the door with keys in hand, and before she knew it she arrived at the lab at Harvard. Peter had requested to stay late and follow up on some research, which Broyles granted him with one condition: two armed FBI Agents were stationed outside the doors at all times. Showing her credentials she entered and stopped dead in her tracks to find the lab empty. On her left, Walter's room was dark as he was, no doubt, in a deep drug induced coma for the night. On the opposite side was her office, dimly lit by a desk lamp and the faint sound of a scribbling pencil against paper and the scratch of the old record player as it crackled the soft sounds of jazz.

Slowly she stepped down the steps towards the sound of a muted trumpet as it howled in the night, beckoning for any stray listeners to come listen to its blissful melody. Paralleling the doorway she stood in the rusty light and simply stared at the subject before her. Hunched over a charting desk with a pencil in one hand and a protractor in the other sat the notorious Peter Bishop, quite literally, the man of her dreams, in all fashion. Tight jeans formed around his waist and a blue long sleeve shirt formed to his body. His head bobbed slowly with the music, enticing her even further as a familiar heat rose in her chest.

There was that voice again.

It was that distant, incessant nagging voice in that back of her mind that screamed for Olivia to get the hell out of there; this ever-present, annoying, miniscule voice that had told her, with every burning cell in her body, that this man was something to avoid. It started with his expressions, the smug way he's raise one side of his face when he knew he was right, more-so when he proved it to her. It was the way he stood, tall and threatening, and strangely calm. It was in every moment that they had spent any time together, that little voice surfaced and told Olivia to dump him on the side of the highway and speed out of there. His eyes were smooth, a deep oceanic blue that she could stare at all day and find herself helplessly pulled out to sea.

It was the way he'd make eye contact and smile at her over his shoulder, as if he knew something she didn't, a deep seeded secret that he held the key to in that smug grin of his. She could feel the color rising as she'd unintentionally blush and hide the dilation in her own eyes as she felt Peter Bishop staring at her from all corners of the world. His intense, passionate eyes made her feel something she had not felt in a while- the severe lust of being wanted, adored, thrown against a wall and ravished until she had nothing left but skin and bone. Her skin would crawl, her heart rapidly pace and her breathing hitch in her throat. The strength of her legs would give out as he fired bullets with his gaze, gunning his way into her heart. Her stomach would knot and her body burn with a wildfire of desire.

This man she dreamed of, the face who she could always find comfort in was here before her in the flesh. Indeed, Peter Bishop was something to avoid, a forbidden object of secret indulgence that had haunted Olivia's dreams, drove her wild with need and insane with passion. Cops weren't supposed to become involved with criminals, and yet here she was staring at him like a fresh drink of water after a journey through the desert, a simple mirage that tricked her mind and left her mouth watering for him.

Whatever had possessed her to seek him out that night was a mystery all in itself.

Rounding the stairs she slowly crept towards the door and held her breath, his throaty voice whistling to the music was harmony to her ears. Sneaking her head into the light she gripped the door frame for balance and gently wrapped her knuckles on the wood in a half-assed hope he wouldn't hear, and the other half was begging to scream for his attention. He granted it by turning slowly, his head craned over his shoulder and his brows furred in a look Olivia took as both curiosity and confusion.

"I never pictured you for a jazz listener," she said, her voice low and tender as she leaned against the door frame on one shoulder, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Of all places to be at three in the morning, what are you doing here?" he asked casually as a small smile escaped his lips.

Olivia shrugged as nonchalantly as she could. "Couldn't sleep, I guess. I went for a drive and saw the light on here still, I thought maybe Walter was up and could use some company." She hated to lie, but it was the most sensible thing she could fabricate on the fly. She could only imagine the boost his ego would gain from knowing she was here because of him.

He grinned; a sly shadow crossed his face. "More dreams of yours truly?"

Caught, she knew. "I'm that easy to read, huh?" she chuckled, flashing him a small, embarrassing smile. Peter nodded and spun in the stool, leaning on the table. She subconsciously wrapped her arms tighter around her waist. "I… wanted to ask you something. About our conversation earlier… the dreams you had of the park, of… us. What were they about?"

Peter stood still for a moment and pondered her question. Without saying a word he stood and changed the record on the old machine. Had she asked him something too personal; too heart breaking perhaps? Maybe he was about to brush her off and ask her to leave. Instead he placed the stylus on the outer grooves and the room was filled with airy crackles until the smooth sound of another jazz artist filled the air. Step by step Peter turned and made his way over to her slowly. With soft eyes he took one hand in hers and placed it on his shoulder, the other raised casually at shoulder height. She felt her breath hitch as his free hand took refuge in the small of her back and pressed them closer together. Taking the lead he began to sway to the music, avoiding her gaze momentarily.

"Do you know why I enjoy jazz so much?" He asked in a deep velvet voice, his eyes connecting with hers again. "It's easy listening. There are no lyrics to disrupt the chords as they melt together, no rush to finish the song and start another melody. Out of all the different styles it's the only kind that doesn't yield to the rules of music. No time signature, no need for harmonies to match. You can have five beats in a four beat measure with no accidentals and it sounds perfect. Each instrument can be played as it wants and yet it can create something absolutely beautiful and unique each time. It's smooth, fluent and an entity all its own. It marches to its own drummer," he flashed a smirk, "no pun intended."

Olivia chuckled as they continued to sway in the dim lights of her office. "Oh I think it was intended, Bishop," she returned his grin and tightened her hand on his as a strange familiarity began to surface in her mind. "Did you- we do this often… dance?"

Peter laughed. "You would always try and convince me, especially if we were out. I hate to dance, but when it was just you and me, I'd bend. No sappy romance music, no crowds on people on a dance floor. This song in particular we'd sway to, especially after a rough day. You would choose it because it was calming. It'd relax you, help you unwind. Of course the whiskey and massage would always do that trick, too."

Olivia grinned, pressing her lips together with a visible hesitation. "So I take it we were together?"

Peter nodded. "We were. It took us three years, a few rough patches and equally shared denial but we found a way to make it work. It wasn't perfect, but it was close to it as we could have," he said, this voice full of deep passion. As the music continued, he cocked his head smugly. "So if I may ask, what were those dreams you were having?"

She shrugged. "They weren't anything spectacular if that's what you're hinting at. I'd be working a case, driving in the car, hell even be sitting at the Federal Building and somewhere in the dream I'd see your face. Even in Walter's house, now to place it, I'd see you. I'd never hear the conversation but I'd see it. We'd be talking, cooking, dancing. Sometimes we'd-" she trailed off as the blush began to rise in her cheeks, making Peter laugh.

"Ah," he breathed with a half-mouthed grin, "That. Well, given in the other timeline we were together that wouldn't surprise me." He paused and smirked. "So was it good?"

Olivia laughed aloud, truthful embarrassment surfacing on her face in a shade of red. "I don't know. I'd wake up before we… finished."

"Pity," he muttered, "I always remember it being something… out of this world." Swaying back and forth still, Peter tilted his head towards one side and studied her face, the corners of his lips turned upward slightly; his eyes glowed in the soft light, full of admiration. "You're different, and yet the same. Your quirks, mannerisms, even your stubbornness is all there. But there's definitely something different. You don't seem as burdened, as down on yourself as you used to be. The intensity behind your eyes is ever present. Whatever changed in you, Olivia, I may never know, but it's absolutely fascinating."

"But I'm not your Olivia," she said, bringing Peter's heart back to reality.

His smile faded, crackling into the air like a lost noise. "No, you're not," he choked, words lodged in this throat. "You're her, but you're not her, but she's there somewhere. I know it, I can feel it. We just need a way to jog your memory."

"And how do you propose we do that?" she asked with a suspicious tone.

Peter's lips curled upward in a mischievous smile. "Well that depends, are you armed?"

"No," she chuckled and raised an eyebrow, "What's that have to do with anything?"

Peter gave no answer; instead he slowly, painstakingly moved closer to her, the tip of his nose brushed against hers softly before he paused. "Not just anything, Liv," he breathed against her mouth, "It's everything." At the end of his words he captured her lips in his and froze in the moment. He could feel her tense beneath hands as his rose to cup her cheek, and another hand found its perch on the curve of her back. Tracing her bottom lip with his he retracted for a moment before smiling at the heated look on her face.

Her head spun, her heart jumped and her brain ceased to function. Whatever words she had died at the sweet taste of him; her knees shook and her toes went numb. This was wrong, Olivia told herself, it was wrong in all aspects. A thousand and one reasons came to mind as to why she should slap him and walk out while her dignity was still intact. She was a cop, he was a criminal, a forbidden piece of luscious fruit she could never-should never- have. Every fiber of her being told her to exit stage left and get the hell out of there, that this was a very bad idea.

Instead of moving he kissed her again, slowly, savoring her on his lips. With each kiss, with each press of his lips, each flick of his tongue against her mouth Olivia felt her muscles tense, her throat run dry and her skin ignite with the same fire that she felt in her dreams. As Peter kissed her again be began to walk backwards until she felt her back hit the wall next to the book shelf with a gentle thud.

Encircling her waist Peter couldn't help but smile at the familiarity of all this, the familiarity of her. It was just them. Him and her. It was Peter and Olivia and nothing to stand in his way. He tugged at the hem of her shirt, his mouth traveling to that sweet spot between her neck and her inner shoulder that drove her absolutely crazy. Her hands moved over his pectorals and gripped the fabric, clenching onto him for dear life.

"We should stop," Olivia breathed as he kissed the milky white skin of her neck, this teeth dragging against the goose bumps that coated her body. Peter pressed himself harder against her with an unforeseen need, a simple desire that drove Olivia literally up the wall. He gently parted her knees and slid his leg between hers until she was on her toes, his thigh pressing against her throbbing core.

"Is that really what you want, 'Livia," he muttered against her lips as her head fell backwards, resting against the cool wall, his hands on either side of her body, "Just say it and we'll pretend this night never happened."

She drew in a deep, cleansing breath, trying to calm her rattled nerves as her lungs quaked. This wasn't a dream. He wasn't a figment of her imagination. He was real. This, she knew, this was real. Drawing in a quivering breath she let her mind unfold, the chaos in her mind suddenly stilled as her hands became pleasantly numb. No, she knew. She didn't want this to stop, not in a million years. As she gripped his shirt tighter, harder, she leaned in again and kissed him back in silent confirmation.

No matter what she thought, no matter how many excuses she could conjure up her mind halted as she let her fingers wrap around the base of his neck and became lost in his dark hair. There was a familiarity behind this, behind the taste of bourbon on his lips, the stubble of his chin; the tranquility and sincerity in his eyes. Moving in once again she kissed him, deeper this time to test the waters before diving in head first. Something about this felt right;it made her feel whole, complete, even safe for that matter. There was something special about this man, this stranger.

He pushed her harder against the wall, the button of his jeans scraping her zipper as he traced the denim that hugged her hips, a sudden jealousy for the fabric rose in his subconscious. Slowly, almost in reverse, his hand crept up underneath her shirt and found a textured hem of lace she wore. At the provocation of his touch he felt her smile against him as he cupped her breast through the silky fabric and allowed his hand to mold to her. He knew what she liked, what had flipped that switch deep inside her that made Olivia Dunham simply irresistible. In a black flash he lifted her shirt over his head and threw it off into an unknown corner, turning his attention to the plump flesh centered in her chest. He felt a moan vibrate through her skin and it made him smile. He didn't have to look at her face to see the pleasurable contortion that had fallen across her cheeks.

In one swift maneuver he lifted her off the ground and away from the cool concrete, walking a few steps in the opposite direction. His knees hit first as he fell backward and watched as Olivia crawled onto his lap, her knees paralleling his waist. Again their lips met in a passionate embrace as she pulled his shirt over his head, her almost bare chest connected with the warm skin of his muscles and again, she smiled.

Expertly he manipulated the zipper of her jeans as she grinned towards him with half-moon eyes. He paused for a brief moment and simply stared at the beautiful haze that bestowed upon her cheeks, the flush of her skin and her swollen, plump lips. Never in his life had Peter witnessed something so beautiful, so seductive that it made his loins almost explode right then and there. Slowly he let his fingers trail over the taught muscles of her stomach until they came to rest on the silky lace of her underwear. Continuing to look at her, Peter smirked. As he kissed her again he let his hand dip below her garments and found the warmth that throbbed between her legs. Her breathing ceased momentarily as she bit her lip; his finger land marked that small cluster of nerves, igniting her in a pleasure-consuming fire.

Letting her head fall back into the air her body arched against his expert fingers as one by one he slipped inside her, crawled into her inner soul and set her ablaze. His mouth worked wonders over her skin as she moaned gently into the night, his name rolled off her tongue expertly. God, she had forgotten what it felt like to be needed, to be touched… to be loved, wanted, needed, desired, whatever words she could muster flashed before her eyes. She moaned into his shoulder and could feel him smile a smug grin she'd love to slap off his face. But the things he could make her do, make her feel was enough to forget about that in an instant and literally make her melt in his hands

Reaching behind she felt him undo the hinge of her bra and discard it God know knew where. With his fingers still working their magic he paid attention to her chest, his tongue dancing circles on her flesh as he nibbled playfully, earning a snicker from her. Running his tongue over the reddened flesh he let his divine love heal it as it healed the workings of her inner soul. Her muscles clenched as she rocked against his hand, his fingers curled, twisting, bending until she became undone.

Peter couldn't take it anymore. Feeling Olivia writhe above him, his name nestling between her lips and legs was enough to make him go crazy. He withdrew his expert hand and laid her on her back against the soft leather, pulling her jeans off in seconds, clothes shed they were both naked; curious hands roamed with passionate lips and heated hearts. Positioning himself on top of her Peter paused for a brief moment and again looked into her eyes.

In that moment of clarity he saw her, his Olivia. Her deep emerald pools, once thin and shallow, were flowing again with new life, a spring that finally broke to the surface. He smiled and brought his hips down to meet hers. With a sharp intake of air Peter gripped her hips and began to move against her, his name falling from her lips like diamond rain drops, shimmering in the dim lights of her office.

Locking her arms around his neck she pulled his body flush against hers and dug her hands into his skin, her nails scratching and digging into the smooth muscles of his back. Faster, harder they moved, muscles pumping and hearts exploding as their bodies collided in a cosmic collision that could have been enough to end the universe. Stars exploded behind her closed eyes as they continued, pushing harder against one another in a battle for dominance that neither was willing to yield to.

Entwining his fingers with hers Peter placed both hands above her head, pinning her arms above her head as her body bucked, moaning his name once again. Again he gazed through those sea green windows and smiled at the expression on her face. He had almost forgotten what she felt like, when the armor she yielded would fall and she'd just be Olivia- uncut, uncensored, unprotected and completely raw, where the slightest tick could shatter her to pieces. As he moved against her he saw that vulnerability in her eyes. She may not remember, but in every fiber of her being she was his Olivia.

She drew in another sharp breath and moaned his name again, never breaking his contact; those ocean deep orbs had her captivated, his hands magic and his lips heavenly against her skin. Deep inside her that fire burned brighter, grew hotter and hotter until that final combustion. She silently counted down from three until the fire gates opened and that fire consumed her, her body arching and bucking against his as his head dipped into her shoulder as her own name dripped from his lips. Together they crashed over the line between life and an out of body experience. Wave after pleasurable wave broke over them until the waters receded, leaving Peter's body shaking above hers as he withdrew and swallowed hard, his muscles like jelly.

Tracing the lines of his lips Olivia smiled widely as she kissed him and pulled his hazy head towards her body, his cheek resting just above the pounding of her heart. Wrapping her arms around his tired body he let his arms go and nestled himself above her, his breath ragged as he fought to control the pants he let out. She wasn't sure how long they had laid there for, wrapped in each others arms and simply reflected. It could have been seconds, months, even decades before they moved, her eyes half closed as the smile she had never left her lips.

"Still here with me?" he asked in raspy breath, his cheek still resting on her chest. Olivia sighed and chuckled. Finally regaining some of his strength Peter raised his head and rested his chin on her breastbone. "Where'd you go?"

"To the stars," she whispered in a smokey voice, her fingers tracing his rough jaw.

Peter grinned. "Find anything interesting?"

She chuckled again, "Not really." The smile she had faded. He knew that look, the questioning expression she always had when there was something on her mind. "Peter- this isn't going to change anything."

He nodded. "I know."

"So you still believe that I'm your Olivia?" she asked, adjusting her eyes to meet his.

Peter shrugged. "I don't know what to believe anymore, Liv."

Tracing the bridge of his nose she cocked her head to one side and gave him a sideways grin. "Sometimes the world we have isn't the world we want. Sometimes believing is more powerful than seeing, it allows our minds to run away with our imaginations and shape the world we want it. What we can't hold with our hands, we can hold in our hearts. I know this isn't the world you want, Peter that I'm not the woman you want. But if you can't get back home to her, perhaps you'd consider me for the front runner."

He smiled to her with half-moon eyes, "I'd like that, Liv. Thank you." Arching his neck up towards her he kissed her once again. For another hour or so they lay on the couch, curled beneath an old blanket and simply talked, until Olivia slipped out from underneath him and the two dressed in silence, neither mentioning the sealed deed. Before parting Peter gave her one final, tender kiss. With a bounce in her step and her head raised high Peter watched her leave, a smile still on his face. It wasn't home, he decided, but definitely a second best.

Another twenty or so minutes later Olivia arrived back home, changed and curled into bed once again, a satisfactory expression on her calmed features. Perhaps she did travel into space, she decided as she closed her eyes, into the black hole that rested in her soul, a cosmic hiccup that had left her feeling empty for as long as she could remember. With heavy eyes and a calm heart she felt herself drift off into sleep, with the face of a young boy, his hair long, his skin pale and his blue eyes piercing.

"Peter," he smiled towards her, surrounded by a field of white tulips he moved closer, unafraid of the burnt stems around her, "My name's Peter…"

Reviews always appreciated!