His Possession (OLITZ /Scandal - short stories) - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

It was their last day at the cozy cabin, and President Fitz Grant was bored-which, for a man with his resources and an overactive imagination, spelled trouble. Olivia was off shopping, blissfully unaware that their romantic hideaway had been turned into a low-budget CIA surveillance set.
Fitz lounged on the couch, spinning the tiny bug between his fingers. Jake Ballard, that smug, overgrown Eagle Scout, had left his calling card: a camera and mic, expertly hidden. Fitz's security team had missed it, but Fitz knew Jake's handiwork when he saw it. The urge to smash the device was strong, but a better idea slithered in-one that made him grin like a wolf.
If Jake wanted a show, Fitz would give him a performance worthy of pay-per-view.
When Olivia finally swept in, arms full of shopping bags and attitude, Fitz was sprawled across the couch like a man with no secrets and all the time in the world.
"Hey, Liv," he purred, patting the cushion beside him. "Miss me?"
She arched a brow, cool as ever. "I was gone forty minutes. Did you manage to burn down the cabin yet?"
"Not yet," he replied, eyes glinting. "But the day's young."
She dropped her bags, slid off her coat, and eyed him with that practiced, unbothered gaze that drove him wild. "You look suspiciously pleased with yourself. Should I be worried?"
"Only if you hate fun," Fitz said, stretching. "I was thinking we should, you know, make the most of our last day here."
Olivia snorted, settling beside him. "You mean nap?"
He leaned in, voice dropping. "I was thinking more... interactive."
She gave him a sidelong glance, lips twitching. "In the living room? That's adventurous for a man who needs a motorcade to get groceries."
He grinned, sliding a hand to her thigh. "I like to keep things fresh."
She rolled her eyes but didn't move away. "You're up to something, Grant. I can smell it."
He feigned innocence. "Just your perfume. And maybe a little trouble."
Without warning, he kissed her-slow, deep, and just messy enough to make her laugh. "You know, Liv," he murmured, "I think we should try something new today."
She cocked her head, unimpressed. "Like what? Rearranging the furniture with our bodies?"
"Exactly," he said, fingers tracing the hem of her skirt. "Every piece deserves a test drive."
Olivia smirked, dry as gin. "You're ridiculous. And you're not nearly as subtle as you think."
He shot a quick glance at the camera's hiding spot, then back at her, his smirk devilish. "Subtlety is overrated. I'm more of a... statement piece."
She snorted, then yanked him by the collar, kissing him with enough heat to fog up the windows. "You're all talk, Mr. President."
"Watch and learn," he whispered, hands already working her skirt down.
Olivia, ever the queen of composure, undressed with the casual grace of someone folding laundry, tossing her skirt aside and arching an eyebrow as she caught him staring. "You gonna help, or just gawk?"
He swallowed, momentarily speechless as she sprawled on the couch, legs open, giving him a view that would haunt Jake's dreams. "Hi, big boy," she purred, unclasping her bra with one hand.
Fitz's brain short-circuited. "You are... something else."
She grinned, grabbing his hand and sucking his finger into her mouth-slow, deliberate, filthy. "You're not so bad yourself," she said, voice low and wicked.
He groaned, his composure slipping. "You know, Liv, you drive me insane."
She shrugged, utterly unfazed. "It's a gift."
He pulled her onto his lap, grinding against her, making sure every move was in full view of the hidden camera. "I'm going to make you forget every loser who ever thought he had a chance."
She laughed, cool and sharp. "That's a long list, Fitz. You better pace yourself."
He kissed her again, rough and hungry, his hands everywhere. "Hold on, baby. This is going to be one hell of a redecorating session."
The afternoon sun spilled through the windows as Fitz and Olivia turned the living room into their own private stage-every kiss, every laugh, every shameless touch a not-so-subtle middle finger to Jake Ballard's surveillance.
Afterward, tangled together and breathless, Olivia nuzzled his neck, her tone dry as ever. "You're ridiculous. But I suppose you're my kind of ridiculous."
Fitz grinned, glancing one last time at the camera. "And you, Liv, are my favorite kind of trouble."
If Jake wanted to play games, Fitz had just given him a masterclass in mischief-and Olivia, as always, played along like a pro.