Author's Note: Hey, y'all. It's 2014 now and I managed to get through 2013 without getting hospitalized, charged with a felony, or pregnant. That's a solid WIN in my book and I hope you all out there had a good, safe time out there. To officially kick off SSS 2014 and to follow a prompt given by a good friend, here's an Olitz meeting abroad, smut with substance fic for your enjoyment.

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

As soon as their eyes met, it was like everything slowed to a crawl. Her full parted lips were stained with fresh grape juice from the kitchen. Her long hair was a halo of onyx coils and her skin…he had never seen such soft looking skin before, the milk chocolate calling to his fingertips. Keeping doe like eyes on him watchfully, she filled her plate with antipasti and bread, grabbing an apple on her way back inside. She wore a gray midsleeved top with white stripes, a black maxi skirt, and was barefoot, her toes painted orange with red detail. Forcing himself to look away, he quietly asked what her name was. The Inn's owner, his Nona Naomi smiled and replied in her Sicilian accented English.

"Olivia Pope."

Absorbing that, he watched as her hair flew behind her in the upper passageway, wondering how it felt, how it smelled. He wanted to touch her.

Most of all, Fitz Grant III wanted to hear her voice and the intelligence that her gaze held.

/

As soon as her lunch was safely on the dresser, her knees gave out. She slumped heavily against the wood of her hastily closed door and sighed, still feeling those eyes on her. Olivia Pope was no stranger to the appraisal of men nor was she a stranger to feeling desire but his eyes…god, his eyes. They were shades of gray and blue, cerulean like the nearby sea and slate like weathered stone. He was tall, near giant in comparison to her and even through his clothes, a simple white t-shirt and dark wash jeans, she knew that he was made of solid, lean muscle.

Of course, she recognized him. Everyone knew who the Grants were and Naomi had shown her many pictures of her grandson. Fitzgerald III had been engaged to Millicent Vaughn but it had fallen apart abruptly almost a year ago. No one really knew what happened or rather, no one wanted to say. The blueblood heiress was now 5 months pregnant and firmly attached to, of all people, Edison Davis. When she had ended their stagnant relationship before her departure, she had an inkling that he was being unfaithful. Her Gut had roiled in warning from the start, and now it seemed like it had been justified. A feeling of sympathy filled her in behalf of Fitzgerald. Being cheated on and lied to was terrible and spirit breaking. And it was always worse when the guy was the one left behind because the sharks would sense blood in the water. Your girl left you? Your girl cheated on you? Damn, man. You must've been a jerk. You weren't? Well, maybe you just weren't hitting it right, then…plus, Big Jerry Grant had been very vocal in his disapproval of his son's actions in ending the engagement, the seasoned California politican essentially choosing Millicent over his own familial blood.

No wonder he had left America.

A soft tap at the door made her stand up and open it to a softly smiling Naomi, who was holding a tall glass of peach iced tea for her. Weakly, she smiled back and accepted it, sitting down on her bed. It was a queen sized pillow top bed with a solid oak frame, covered by a handmade patchwork quilt and many plush pillows. Olivia, who had become used to sleeping in hostel bunks and in her sleeping bag amongst other travelers, appreciated the comfort and the privacy of her room.

The inn had been converted from an old villa, small and private without being too expensive. Each room had a feeling of warmth, of history, and although she had only been in the area for a fortnight, Olivia was already on her third sketchbook. Her latest Corcoran portfolio would be full of ruins, marketplace action, sea life, and various wildflowers in the countryside. She had always loved wildflowers…

Fitzgerald's gaze had also been the color of cornflowers.

"He's a good boy, my Fitzgerald. Thankfully, he got his mother's good nature and strong spirit. Felicity was always so warm, so bright, so loving…how she ended up with a selfish swine like Big Jerry still baffles me to this day."

"Maybe he has redeeming qualities that few people get to see."

"Mmph… he asked for your name after you left. And he was watching you run away like a spooked baby deer."

She blushed and looked away.

"I didn't mean to run. It's just…when he looked at me, I felt…warm. Branded but without pain. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears and everything seemed to just stand still. All I could think of was him touching me and I…"

"It frightened you."

Olivia nodded and drank her tea, sure to put the glass on one of the ceramic coasters. It had been like a magnetic pull. His gaze was intense but not predatory. There was desire but a deep curiosity, too. He found her interesting. After it became clear that she wasn't going to sleep with them or that she wasn't going to dial back her personality to keep him around (another reason why Edison was her ex), men her age pretty much ignored her or talked about her with disdain. Ice Bitch, Bougie Brainiac, the closest she probably gets to a good fuck is looking at those naked dude statues in museums…

"He would never hurt a woman, Olivia. Nor would he disrespect one."

"I get that. I'm just…overwhelmed. I've never felt that sort of attraction before."

"You, mia bella, have been hit with the Thunderbolt."

"Isn't that from The Godfather?"

"Yes, it is but many of the details that went into the creation of the novel and movie were based in fact. The Thunderbolt is quite real and it can be very potent. In the wrong hands and people, it has started wars and broken up families. On the other hand, it can be the starting point to something beautiful. Some of the best relationships I've experienced and witnessed started with The Thunderbolt, including the one that eventually led to my Felicity and your Fitzgerald."

"He's not mine, Naomi.", Olivia protested with a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Not yet, anyway.", she replied with a playful waggle of her brows.

/

"Hi, Fitzgerald."

"Hi. I'm sorry if I scared you earlier."

"It's okay. Naomi mentioned you were in the area but she had been expecting you to visit towards the end of the week after I left."

"Well, I'm glad I decided to come see her early. I wouldn't have met you otherwise, Olivia. Oh, and please call me Fitz. Fitzgerald reminds me too much of my father, pretentious and stuffy."

She chuckled and nodded, taking residence in the cranberry red bowl chair in the corner. Out came a sketchbook and a pink clay cylinder of various pencils was placed on the low table next to her. Her gaze locked on a large vase filled with fully bloomed pink, red, and white roses and she began to work quietly.

His nona had filled him in on what she knew of her. She was Eli Pope's daughter. The curator was one of his father's main contacts in DC when it came to art and artifacts for the Compound and he remembered meeting the man. And being promptly dismissed by him as a carbon copy of his father in training. The man had never said anything to him directly but he had a way of radiating disapproval that made Fitz wonder if Olivia's upbringing was happy. He doubted it, especially after her mother, Maya Lewis perished in a plane crash when she was 12.

Fitz's mother, Felicity Giametta-Grant had passed away from ovarian cancer when he was 13.

The pain never went away.

Olivia was a 3rd year art student at Corcoran, spending the summer break traveling through the Mediterranean, drawing what she saw and perfecting her craft. And his nona was all too pleased to report that she was single, pleasantly surprising him. Olivia was intelligent, articulate, creative, and absolutely gorgeous. All that with her obvious humility pretty much guaranteed that she had someone special in her life. But, she really was single and had been hurt before, particularly by Millicent's new beau.

More power to him, Fitz decided. Edison Davis' folly had brought him into Olivia's orbit and no matter what happened between them, he was grateful. Fitz would be transferring to Georgetown to take the Bar and put distance between him and Big Jerry come fall. Maybe if they hit it off, he could ask Olivia on a date…

The rhythmic scratching of her pencils stopped, along with the sound of shading and he sat up in the hammock to meet her gaze.

"I want to go swimming. Would you like to join me?", she asked softly, as if she expected a rejection.

"Sure.", he replied calmly, even as his heart pounded in his ears.

/

"I remember this spot. I used to bring my mother flowers from here every time we visited. She loved wildflowers."

"There's so much beauty here. I want to draw everything I see but there's only so many hours in a day. How old are you?"

"I just turned 28. You?"

"I'm 22."

"Ooh, jail bait. How fun."

"I'd rather be jail bait than a dirty old man."

"As far as I'm concerned, one doesn't get old until they're at least 70 and even then, age is more about how you are on the inside than on the out. And I'm not turning 30 for another 2 years."

"2 years can go by in a snap, Fitz."

"Make fun all you want, lil' whippersnapper."

"I will.", she promised brightly.

"You're actually quite mean. You're a mean little thing.", he declared with an exaggerated pout.

Olivia shrugged unrepentantly and matter of factly undid her white bikini top, keeping her back to him. Feeling that intent gaze on her again, she boldly untied her bottoms, leaving her nude in the small pond. It was a secluded spot, surrounded by many types of rocks and leafy plants. Taking down her hair, she went under the surface, feeling just as comfortable in the water as she would on land. Fitz hadn't moved from his spot except to shift on his feet and she swam to his legs, appreciative of the full definition his body had. Most men overworked their upper bodies while neglecting the lower, resulting in chicken legs. Not Fitz. He took good care of himself all over and it showed.

Maybe he'd let her draw him later…they could paint each other, on each other with some of the edible paints she had impulsively picked up in Athens…

Surfacing smoothly, she peeked up at him through her lashes, floating well within his personal bubble. His jaw clenched and she followed the motion of his Adam's apple with her eyes. He was a big man and delightfully hairy, not too much nor too little. Reaching forward, she gently raked her blunt nails over the center of his chest and goosebumps immediately rose in their wake. The tip of his tongue darted over his lower lip as she hooked her thumbs in the tops of his black trunks, meeting his gaze questioningly. His hands went over on top of hers and pushed downward, removing the trunks. Collecting their floating swim wear, she laid them on a nearby flat rock to sun dry and he followed her, coming up behind her but not touching her. She liked that. Most men would've immediately interpreted her actions as consent but it was clear that Fitz wanted and needed words from her before he took her, before he made love to her.

And she wanted him to take her. She wanted him to make love to her. Very, very badly.

"Touch me."

/

Her breathy gasp of delight as his hands closed over her breasts made the fire in his groin burn brighter. She had surprised him. Their initial meeting had shown that she was shy, skittish even but the way she had taken off her suit, the way she looked at him with such desire was anything but shy. Fitz could feel his body yelling, urging him to thrust into her and possess her inside and out but he stayed measured. This was their first time and it was going to be good for both of them, tender and slow.

They could be hard and rough later.

Olivia whimpered in protest as he turned her around and moaned with rapture as he kissed her passionately, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of grapes, fresh honey, and sunshine, intoxicating to his senses. Her own tongue advanced forward and engaged his in a slow dance. Sliding his hands over her luscious ass, he hoisted her up against him and she wrapped her strong legs around him as he pressed her back to the grassy, slightly muddy shore. Her upper body was free of the water and he followed the sparkling trails of water with his lips and tongue, licking up the fresh water and the freshness of her skin. Her fingers weren't idle. They ran through his hair, over his shoulders, skimmed his sides (causing him to squirm, since he was ticklish), and her right hand boldly squeezed one of his buttocks, pleased at the firmness found. Grabbing both her wrists, he put her hands next to her head, looming over her in a clear display of dominance. Instead of shying away or struggling, she relaxed and even stuck her tongue out at him playfully, making him laugh out loud.

Smiling encouragingly, she aligned their lower halves and nodded, brushing her sex against his to make his head swim…a thin sliver of rationality remained.

"Protection?", he asked gently stroking her wrists.

He had no problem stopping, waiting if necessary.

Olivia was worth waiting eons for.

"The IUD was originally put in for my cycle but apparently, it also has other much more pleasant uses. Who knew?", she replied cheekily, making him laugh again.

The issue settled, he allowed Olivia to pull him in and Fitz shuddered in delight at the feel of her. Her silky walls expanded and contracted around each inch of him welcomely, flooding around him with her hot sticky nectar. God, he wanted to taste her. Would she let him taste her? If she were even a fraction as sweet inside as he imagined, he was very happily done for. She panted and shivered, whimpering as she took him to the hilt. Her whimpers weren't of pain but growing bliss and impatience for him to move inside her. Fitz rolled his hips slowly and a low rumbling purr escaped his lover, causing him to thrust into her hard.

"Yes!"

/

Each impact of their hips had Olivia reeling, her entire vocabulary reduced to syllables and cries that grew louder as time passed. Her right leg was over his shoulder and although his hands had returned to her body, she kept her wrists up submissively, allowing him full reign over her heated body. Fitz's face was the picture of sexual satisfaction, along with an Alphaness that made her quiver inside. She felt possessed and wanted and…safe. Even as his hips pounded, even as he growled against her straining nipples as he sucked them, she knew that Fitz would not hurt her.

"…so damned good…fucking amazing, Livvie… so wet and tight…you were made for me… you take me so well, so hungrily..you were waiting for me, weren't you...you knew that this sweet little pussy was mine, didn't you?", he purred in her ear as he slowed down to a deep, slow grind, releasing her leg to wrap back around his waist needily.

"Mmmm…"she moaned in response to his filthy interrogation and praise, squeezing it around him as hard as she could to make him shout. She suckled at his lower ear and looked at him with faux coyness as their eyes met again.

"…bad girl…should take you over my knee for that, you mean little thing…", he wheezed laughingly.

A shudder went through her at the image of his hand impacting her ass and she could feel herself grow wetter, ripple faster. She never considered doing that sort of thing with Edison, exploring some of her long standing fantasies but Fitz…Fitz was different. So, so delightfully different…

"Tonight?", she requested seriously, causing him to look at her incredulously before his nostrils flared.

His response to her plea was a thrust harsher than all the ones before and Olivia shattered with a shuddering scream, his name belted out into the countryside as electricity surged through her nerves. Fitz cried out in ecstatic pain as her inner walls spasmed around him and his mouth fell open in a long groan of ecstasy that became a hard grunt as his hot seed began to flood her. She thrust up against him, taking everything he had to give her with relish and her head fell back heavily into the grass as she cooed, spent and turned all the way out.

She made a mental memo to send Millicent Vaughn a thank you card and flowers. Her loss was certainly her gain…

Fitz eased them out of the water and stretched out over her in a tender embrace, as shameless in his nudity as she was. They were surrounded by wildflowers and she wrapped her arms around him, slowly floating down from her high with him.

"…mine.", she declared as she started stroking his hair, prompting purrs of his own.

"…yours.", he agreed. "Mine?"

"Yours.", she assured him.

"Mmmm…"