His Possession (OLITZ /Scandal - short stories) - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Fitz's newly renovated cabin needed some cleaning, and today was the perfect time to do so. He had sent Olivia out with a bodyguard for the day, allowing her to shop for anything and everything she wanted. Now, Fitz could indulge in the two things he loved most but rarely had the time for—cooking for Olivia and cleaning his house.
"There is a calmness to cleaning the house, feeling the furniture glide over the wooden floor and the soft sound of the broom as it sweeps," he reminisced about his mother's words while he whistled as he went about his chosen duties. As the house was cleaned, it felt lighter and brighter, becoming a place that invited deep breaths and allowed thoughts to slow, as if one had just awoken.
In the cozy, traditional-style kitchen, Fitz picked up the chopping knife and began cutting the vegetables into perfect matchsticks. Every motion was precise from intense repetition, and he prided himself on the machine-like perfection of his shapes. Everything was even, uniform, and perfect. On the menu was a hearty beef bourguignon, creamy mashed potatoes, and roasted asparagus. For the perfect accompaniment, he had chosen a vintage 1982 Château Lafite Rothschild.
"I am a domestic god, worship me!" he declared, holding the knife with a flourish. He saw brilliance in food—the color, the fragrance. It was his genius at play, seeing what the rest of us didn't. "I guess that's why we call it culinary magic," he joked, imagining his spoon as a wand carved from the spirit tree.
Dinner was prepped and ready for cooking when Olivia returned.
Not a moment later, his phone chimed, and he went to the quaint living room to retrieve it. He read the text from his wife and responded with a smile.
Olivia: Hi, handsome!
Fitz: Sup Sexy...😊
Olivia: Just checking in – I ran into Abby, helping her shop for her sister's baby shower gift. I still plan on being home by 5ish- I've only had coffee and a muffin, so I am bringing my appetite. Can't wait to see what's on Chef Grant's menu tonight!
Fitz: How did you know I was cooking?
Olivia: 😉
Fitz sank into the plush grey recliner and smiled, all the while hoping for a cooler night, the perfect reason to turn on the fireplace. He ponders, undecided if he should read a book or watch TV.
He and Olivia enjoy doing both but have vastly different tastes.
Olivia enjoys reading her true crime-inspired books.
Fitz enjoys classic literature novellas.
In regards to movies, Olivia loves her classic noir dramas, suspense, and romance movies; Fitz is all about modern-day comedies and franchise action flicks.
For several long moments, he paced the floor, undecided on what to do in the hour he had left before Olivia's expected return.
Fitz's sparkling blue eyes glance over, the corners of his lips fighting a smile, his eyebrows slightly raised. He picks up one of Olivia's old books, the one he chose was red and unmarked. The first few pages had all of Olivia's vital and familial information, the entire Pope family tree.
Flipping through the pages, he began to realize he was reading something private; this was Olivia's diary. The thick red book chronicled her life from the tender age of sixteen right up to this very day.
One second passed.
Two seconds passed.
Three seconds passed.
Guilt was eating and pestering him, yet he kept reading, fascinated, humored, completely enraptured. Seeing the world through Olivia's eyes was a pure revelation.
"What the fuck!" Fitz gasped... There was an entry in her diary dated four years ago - A Night with Jake.
In his moments of emotional astonishment, he realizes it will take time for his brain to find the words to adequately express what he is feeling. His first thought was to close the book...but something held him there in a powerful grip he could not break loose from, like a tangled ball of yarn in his hand, he struggled to untangle the knots and so he began to read...
Friday, October 13th... 2 AM
After a dismal night of getting my ass kicked in darts by Quinn and Huck, I found myself alone at the bar. The game ends when Charlie sweeps in and he and Quinn are off into the night; a few minutes later, the same happens with Huck and Kim.
"You should have cheated," A voice came up from behind me, pulling me from my self-pity.
"What fun would that be?" I shoot back before I even notice who's speaking to me.
"A whole lot, trust me I speak from experience," he said, smirking at me as he slid into the barstool next to me. The 'he' is Jake Ballard – super soldier.
"I lost $20.00, I'll survive," I roll my eyes and take my last swig of red wine.
"Two lemon drops – top-shelf vodka," he catches the bartender just as he's walking by, "so you only play dirty when it's your job," he says mockingly.
"Always," I nod and smile despite myself.
With my head down, I dig into my purse and begin counting some cash to pay for my drink.
"I'll pay for our drinks," He whispers, his hand lightly touching mine, causing me to look up to meet his gaze. He's smiling at me with that unbearable sexy grin; I don't have to read his mind to know what he's thinking. He's been watching me all night – wanting me, waiting for a chance to get me... alone...
"Thank you," I whisper back as his fingers are lazily tracing over my knee over the denim of my jeans.
I'm smiling even more, unbelieving at how much this is exciting to me.
"You're welcome," he says, holding up our shots for a toast.
We down the sweet and sour drink, and he immediately orders another round.
"Would you like to play darts?" He asks, and there is no mocking in his tone.
"Why...? Because you know I'm crappy at it?"
He raises one haughty eyebrow at me, "I'm worse than you," he admits.
I laugh outright at that.
"Let's see about that," I practically leap out of my chair and head over to the gaming area. I feel him hot on my heels. The next thing I know, we are downing rounds of lemon- drops and I'm having fun kicking his ass at darts and then a few rounds of pool. All the while, he and I are admiring each other. No, not for our playing skills, we both stink... He was enamored by my ass and the way it shifts when I'm playing my game. I couldn't help but notice the impressive bulge in his jeans.
I excuse myself to the ladies' room to take care of business. I wash my hands and just as I am headed out, Jake steps in...
"Jake...What are you..." I let out a startled gasp. I'm unable to finish what I'm saying. His eyes darken, and he takes me into his arms and plants the mother of all kisses on me. He kisses a path from my ear to my collarbone, pushing aside my hair and letting his tongue linger in the dip of my skin. His hands are everywhere. In my hair, tugging my shirt off, unclasping my bra, palming my breasts, spanning the width of my back—
"We can't do this here..." I say breathlessly. I won't be seduced in a bar and banged against a bathroom door, my mind protests this grave injustice, but his incredible lips are trailing down my sternum before taking a brief detour to kindle my nipple into a hard point with his tongue, leaving me speechless. With one free hand, he unbuttons, unzips, and pulls down his jeans, He pauses occasionally to suck love bites onto my stomach and hips while pulling my jeans down to my ankles.
"Would if someone comes..." I feebly complain as he drops a light kiss on the inside of my thigh, silencing me once again.
I feel him grin against me, "No one's coming but you and I." his teeth scrape against my skin.
And just like that, all my resolve was broken, my breath was taken away, and my entire body was ignited.
He's down on his knees, his fingers play at my clit, skilled fingers trace loops on my thighs; he's spelling his name. It's agonizingly languid, as though he has all the time in the world, as though we aren't in the ladies' bathroom at the Georgetown Piano Bar. Finally, finally, he's where I want him, his tongue dancing lightly along my clit and I'm unable to keep my moans at bay. Jake doesn't seem at all to mind and remains diligent as he swirls his tongue in just the right spot until my knees shake.
"Better than I imagined," Jake whispers to me before giving a gentle thrust of his hips and sliding fully inside of me. His eyes become impossibly darker, "You taste...feel..." he growls and pulls nearly out of me, the tip of him just barely staying inside. It's torture and leaves me aching.
"Jake, please," I whine, trying to angle my hips so that he sinks back into me, but he's holding himself steady. The slow press of him makes me dig my nails into the skin of his back, my eyes fluttering shut.
I lean forward and pull his lower lip beneath my teeth, "Fuck me now."
It makes him groan. "Olivia," he says affectionately, "Brace yourself."
His hips suddenly ferocious in their rhythm, and it felt incredible, enough to drive away all thoughts of where I was and who I was with. Stars are dancing behind my eyes; something in my belly bends and bends and bends until my entire body — Jake fucks me through it, his thrusts quick and shallow as he follows me over the edge.
"I can't believe—" I pant, and he holds a finger to my lips to silence me before kissing me gently.
"Believe it- and it was incredible," he groans and kisses me again.
No argument there.
After a moment, I'm able to put myself together enough to walk out of the bathroom. Luckily, only the staff was there and they didn't seem to even notice us. We walked in silence to my car; both of us wearing smiles as bright as the full moon that night. We never exchanged numbers, but we never needed to; we knew where to find each other. Although we never hooked up again, I was always tempted when I saw him.
Fitz closed the book hard and shoved it back in the cupboard. He paced the room for what seemed like an eternity, but only a few minutes had passed, and an unpleasant, hard knot constricted his throat, making it hard to breathe.
Why did I read that?
Regret washed over him like the long, slow waves on a shallow beach. His anger inundated that feeling...
Fitz thought about calling a hit on the bastard.
He knew men who would kill at his command, and for little or no money, they'd make him suffer.
He'd have them tape it for his viewing pleasure.
A sound downstairs interrupts his thoughts. He doesn't have time to stew, she's home. The tall oak door swings open, and Olivia walks in whistling, her hands full of shopping bags.
"You are not allowed to see Jake without me present."
"What...Jake?" Olivia murmurs, her brain stutters for an instant, "Jake Ballard...Why?"
"I don't want to have to kill him, so you better keep away."
"Kill him..." She was still scrambling to make sense of it all.
"Just so you know, I would kill him, or anyone else that tries to touch you," He warns her, his words were cold and exact. He wanted to kill him with his bare hands, felt like hunting him down. He could envision it, beating his pretty face until it caved in.
"Fitz, I am sorry you had to find that," She said, absorbing things, responding more than reacting, dampening situations rather than adding to the flames, "And get murder out of your goddam head, you're not going to kill the men I've had sex with. Jake was a one-time thing years ago when I thought that you and I had no chance, and if you had kept snooping, you would know that I'm not interested anymore...Period." She said in such a simple and decisive tone. This was her way of doing things: "I have everything I could ever want and need right here." It was loving all around instead of the bickering he was so accustomed to; it was a sense of calm he grew to love.
Her voice remained as warm as early spring. She dropped her bags and, with a definite thud, closed the space between them. Before he knew it, everything was happy again: "I love you, Fitzgerald Grant, and no one else."
"Olivia Pope, every time you hold my face between your hands, it feels like you are untying all of my knots...I never knew what love truly was until I met you."