Going to be posting the rest of this on Ao3 tonight, https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325564/, but so I can motivate myself to finish proofreading the next portion of the chapter I’m just throwing this up here.
Posted the rest this morning rather than last night, https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325564/chapters/31842270
Goes smutty, so if that’s not your thing, don’t keep reading.
Five years and some months ago…Away from Starling City.
We drive another couple hours after the sun sets. The trip mostly in a silence interspersed with a few handfuls of words as the stars fill the night sky. Stretching I trail my fingers up the back of his neck, over the cropped hair that makes my fingers feel prickly. Oliver ever so slightly leans his head into the touch, reminding me of a cat that is gracing me with temporary permission to pet so I let my fingernails scratch along his scalp lightly.
Humming a pleased noise, there is a pause before he motions his chin towards something in the car lights ahead. A sign reflects bright letters, listing a few gas stations, restaurants, and a ‘historic’ B&B. “Your choice Felicity, stop to eat, stop for the night, or keep going?”
“I’ll pick door number two.” A glance at my purse, “Though maybe I should turn my phone back on, check the reviews to make sure it doesn’t have bedbugs, or ghosts, or anything?”
“It was your idea to go at least a week off the grid.”
“I never said my ideas were always the best, and my cyber addiction is itching for a hit.”
“Let’s take the risk.” Oliver’s fingers reach up and squeeze my hand. I quit messing with his buzzed hair and our hands twine before resting between us.
}]}———}>
The room seems small though I know it’s not. The furniture is just so oversized it eats the space. A massive bed seemingly built of logs taking up most of the space, a bulky desk leaves enough room between the two to get to the bathroom door, a wood burning stove in the corner near the window is fitted with a small electric heater inside for ‘ambiance,’ and absolutely out of place, a large TV is mounted on the wall, clashing with the fragile yellowing photographs of people panning for gold.
I run my finger over the small stack of takeout menus near the remote. He’ll be back with the rest of the luggage in a minute and I can’t understand why I’m feeling nervous. It’s Oliver. You know him. He knows you. We have…We’ve worked together, done more than just work. If that first date hadn’t gone upside down so horribly, if he hadn’t gone to The League… I mean it’s not like we haven’t done this…done that…been there, done that, dosed him up with who knows what right after. And since then…he got married-ish, he betrayed us but not really, he…I rescued him this time, I flew an experimental suit up a dam and didn’t drop him or crash us. Now we’re on a new adventure. Come on, you’ve reinvented yourself entirely, this is easy. He’s-“
There is a knock and the leaflets scatter as my arm jerks.
“It’s me.” He doesn’t look nervous. Because there’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s totally ridiculous. Then I spot the small box covered in pictures of grapes nestled in the crook of his arm, balanced with a small plastic bag and the handles of the rest of our things.
The “Oh thank god,” escapes under my breath but the before I realize it.
Oliver notices where my eyes are focused, kicks his shoes off next to mine, and starts setting things down. “Ran across the street, they only had boxed wine in the cooler. I figured we could officially celebrate the start of our adventure.”
…
It’s nothing fancy, but drinking out of plastic cups while sitting on the floor while picking at the few gas station snacks with him feels as natural as crowded around eating takeout in the bunker. Oliver finishes off his cup and stretches his back, “It’s been a long day, and as nice as driving with the top down is, it leaves a grime…mind if I take a shower?”
“Oh, of course. No problemo.” No problemo?! “I mean that sounds good. Have fun getting,” soapy and wet, “clean.”
His fingers brush mine and give a small squeeze. “Felicity, you ok?”
“Of course!”
An eyebrow raises as his eyes narrow slightly, “Hmm…” he looks at my face, then at the tight grip I have on my wine, “Nervous?”
The denial is instant, “I’m not.”
The look on his face practically yells that he doesn’t buy my lie. “I’ll be in the shower, feel free to join me.” It is said so casually, like it’s something we’ve done together so often it’s second nature, but there is a tenseness to his jaw that hints I’m not the only one who’s more than a little nervous. It has been a busy twenty four hours. Deciding to take off, splitting to get some sleep, pack, settle up bills and my apartment, though that’s mostly paying off Thea to shove everything I’m not taking with me into storage when she has time before the lease runs out, all the everyday things that we would be leaving behind in Starling. At nine he picks me up so I can stop by the bank for my passport and cash before hitting the road.
A minute passes and I hear the shower door close and the water turn on. Letting the water warm up while you’re in it? Crazy island man! I glance at the clock, fingers itching to just check my phone, but I’m going to stick to my tech blackout. It’s just a week, and besides, there’s a showering Oliver waiting in the next room for me…Put on- No, make that pull off your big girl panties and go for it!
I leave my glasses on the nightstand and slip into the bathroom. My eyes meet his in the mirror, he just nods and turns slightly, steam clouding the glass to give us both the illusion of privacy. The bathroom was not what I had expected, bright lights, small plants scattered across the vanity and the small window, and a modern shower enclosure instead of a claw foot tub.
His clothes are draped on the counter, so a few quick motions puts mine beside them. I notice him noticing out of a side glance. He may think he’s being stealthy, but the effect of his viewing isn’t exactly hidden. Taking my time shedding the last two pieces I tap lightly on the glass. Oliver opens it, extending a hand to help me in while moving over so I can get under the spray of water too. Not closer, not away, just over…This is Oliver, my Oliver. Honestly, what’s the worst that realistically is going to happen? It’s not like ninjas are going to suddenly- It’s not like…No. We’re away from all that and this isn’t a one last chance, it’s a new start!
Leaning up on tip toes, I press a small kiss to his lips which he returns. Our hands both hesitate before ending up chastely pressing familiar touches to each other’s shoulders and faces. A bold step forward has me pressing my front against his and the shyness crumbles.
His arms wrap around me, mouths part, and a pleased noise from one or both of us fills the small space. Wet hands slide down my back amid the patter of droplets.
As my fingertips scrape across his head again my mouth decides to break the kiss and blurt out the inappropriate before the thought fully forms, “I can’t get any sort of grip like this. I- I mean it’s short. You…They cut it-“ Stop talking! My hand retreats to press against the center of my forehead and his lips press softly against my knuckles, “It’s not bad, but I liked it…I liked how it was...”
His grin is faint, but there at the corners of his mouth and eyes, while his words cut off that ramble, “Well the League was a bit more focused on fighting than grabbable hair styles.”
Tell that to Ra’s al Ghul…or wait, is Oliver now…? Well the prior…last…the Ghul formerly known as Ra’s…and his daughter, and Sarah, and..Come on! You’re in the shower with him, quit thinking about other people!
The silence has stretched on too long, he puts an breath of distance between us, “Hey, if you’re having second thoughts-“
“No! No second thoughts, just my regular irrelevant thoughts…the voices in my- not real voices, just my own voice in my own mind-”
He inches back a bit further, “We don’t have to do anything-“
What? “You don’t want to do anything?”
Oliver leans his head forward, his lips brushing my ear gently, “I think it’s pretty clear, right now, what I want. Who I want.”
My eyes flick downwards of their own accord. Yep…clearly hard as- clear as crystal. I move my hand back in place, sending water droplets from his hair. “Just let it grow enough to let my fingers get hold?” His eye sparkle and the faintest twitch pulses at the edge of his jaw as he nods into the touch. It takes me a heartbeat, trying to figure out why he’s doing the Oliver equivalent of cuckling, then a mental groan forms at how else that can be taken. Well we both know what direction tonight is going, let him take it both ways.
“Kiss me.” I keep it from being a question and one press of lips turns into two, then three. A seduction of kisses and a soft exploration of touches that goes on delightfully for another couple minutes until the water sudden goes from wonderfully steamy to tap temperature. His reflexes are fast, but even so they send him reaching for the handle a second too late to keep it from hitting pause on the make-out session as I gasp at the shock and press myself to the glass to get it open.
…
Draped in towels we make our way the few steps over towards the bed. Another kiss turns into a handful. Then a handful of his towel and a tug sends the fabric dropping from my fingers, leaving Oliver standing before me in all his glory. His breath catches when I keep that boldness and wrap my fingers around his ‘interest.’
He keeps waiting for me to make those steps forward, and that’s starting to make this less fun. I want the give and take of our couldn’t-possibly-be-flirting, the shared desperation of our only time doing this together before. Well, then, let me do something I didn’t do then and see how he reacts to that.
He makes my name a rather strained question when I pull away from him, sliding my hand up the center line of his body. Pushing him in the center of the chest moves him absolutely nowhere so I give a smirk and point, “Sit on the bed.” There is no pause, if he’s resetting his thoughts it doesn’t slow him down as he immediately sits where instructed.
There are three types of first times people choose to have for their new experiences with a new sexy time partner. The go with the flow, whatever happens, happens. The play it safe, being a bit conservative with what you're doing so there is easy improvement when you get more familiar with each other’s preferences. Then there is the camp I fall into, the all in, make it as amazing as possible, fantasy fuel, so when they think of whatever it is you're doing it will forever be the clearest memory, the thing they think about with a little suggestion or flirt.
Tightening my towel I slide down to my knees. He gets it and starts to protest, "You don't-" My fingers wrap around his length, guiding the swollen head right to my lips. Oliver doesn't finish what he was going to say as I press a kiss to the clean damp skin.
A small taste of the underside sends a shudder running through him. He makes such a soft needy noise, as my fingers stroke up until they meet my mouth then firmly back down, that my core clenches.
The sweep of my tongue across the clear bead forming at his tip turns to a kiss, then to gliding his length past my lips. My name is a moan, and I need to hear it again. Teasing a loose grip I stroke in time with my bobbing. When stray blonde strands keep getting in the way I let him go with a pop and give him one more command, “Little help with my hair.”
His fingers immediately go to my face, moving the hair out of the way and holding it high on the back of my head.
The first anything will always be memorable so I am extra enthusiastic, learning what speed to move my hand, if he responds better to a full gripped stroke or just a thumb and finger, if sweeping licks or fluttering ones best draw out his quiet moans and make his fingers clench in my hair.
Glancing up I see his eyes are closed tight. Releasing him from my mouth with a pop I stroke him slowly in my hand, “See how nice it is to get a big handful of hair in your grip?”
He groans, and I can feel the tension in his body, the way his hips give these tiny motions as he tries, nearly fails, to keep from bucking up with each stroke. I savor this side of Oliver, his demands on his self control are almost always locked down tight, and this, from this point on is my chance to reward that, break that, learn together how to be happy.
I hum and praise with my lips, tongue, and hands covering every inch of his cock with attention, but also caressing and teasing with featherlight scratches over his belly, inner thighs, and balls, searching for any special sensitive points that make his breath choppy and moans ragged. His restrained movements grow jerky, nearly matching my rhythm as I stroke and suck and lick.
“Watch.” I tease, hearing the smile in my voice before dragging my tongue around the silky smooth crown of him.
“Felicity, I…I can’t-“ His grip is getting tighter with every motion. I can hear, fuck I can feel, what the idea of staring down at me with my mouth wrapped around him does, and my own body responds in kind with tightly clenching muscles and a flush rising to my cheeks. It makes me greedy, a craving for that loss of control. A need, a must have, and I’m not above fighting dirty to get it.
I let my teeth barely graze the path I just took, following with another fast lick and feel him throb in my grip. “Watch.”
His voice cracks, rasping my name in a plea for mercy.
I cup him, palm just barely helping to support the base of his cock as I lick attention around the glans, “Please, Oliver…,” a small glide of him a few inches into then out of my mouth while tilting my head as far into the grip on my hair allows so he can feel me staring up at him. Letting him hover there, shiny and slick, only my breath teasing against him as I turn the request into a demand, “Watch.”
When Oliver’s eyes force themselves to open to narrow slits I smile, taking him back into my mouth. He swears and his eyes strain wider, pupils flared so wide that on the tiniest sliver of blue remains. That gaze flicks from my mouth to my eyes, to his fingers buried in my hair, then back to my face. One hand manages to release its grip and grabs my wrist, trying to tug me up. I hum a negative around a mouthful of him, giving the smallest shake of my head sucking just that much harder.
“I-“ He squeezes his eyes closed tight for a heartbeat before rasping, “I’m-“
I let the smile show in my eyes. Permission, encouragement, a demand, however he takes it when I make a vibration more than a sound of, “Mmm hmm,” his control shatters.
His body jerks and I feel him pulsing, filling my mouth. The noises he makes are unrestrained, wordless, but other than the few times he’s quietly told me ‘I love you’ they are now the best things I have heard from him make.
He couldn’t keep his eyes open past the first breath of release, the agony and bliss warring on his face beautifully. I don’t stop, wringing out as much of his pleasure as his body will give until his shallow gasps are surely making him dizzy and the muscles in his legs are trembling. Only then do I ease up, not off, keeping him in my mouth and grip, letting him start to catch his breath and slowly go soft in a hot, wet embrace.
“Felicity,” I can hear how he struggles to make the syllables coherent, “that w-…I…think I…you…” The hand in my hair, still shaking, slips to caress the side of my face.
Even ignoring how turned on I am right now, and that stumbling attempt at what is surely praise, the rush from having that much power over him, the ability to make Oliver get to that state, is intoxicating. Gently I release him, my smile wide. “I enjoyed that too.”
Bending he pulls me up, not even hesitating to kiss me hard as he settles me gingerly over his lap, “My turn.”
I know he’s trying to sound sexy, but the sheer breathiness of his voice makes it hard not to laugh, “Yes please.”
He nuzzles my nose with his, hands sliding to my shoulders. A pivoting twist finds him easing me onto my back before I realize that he’s laying me across the bed. My face is gently covered with kisses as Oliver tugs my towel open. Caressing with broad strokes he murmurs, “Have I told you I love you, today?”
Playfully sing-songing my words, my fingers skitter over his tattoos, “You can always tell me again.”
He does.
Oliver tells me he loves me as the scruff of his beard tickles against my jaw, in whispers between slow kisses down the column of my throat. As his fingers lead the way in a lazy path that brushes over my chest, he asks with a look then, as I arch my back to try and hurry him up, savors one pebbled nipple.
I grab his hand, sliding it down between my thighs. Oliver laughs for half a second at my impatience quickly replaced by a groan that is almost pained as those long calloused fingers glide across the obscenely wet skin they find there. He sucks on my breast and I feel each pull like a direct line to where his hand toys. Moaning his name only encourages him to repeat the suckling over the other side.
His hand cups over my sex, middle two fingers dragging through slicked folds as I lean up into his attentions, my hands clutching at his shoulders. Our eyes meet and he releases my nipple with a quiet pop of his lips. A far too slow for my sanity smattering of kisses trail down my midline, the tips of that pair of fingers circling over my clit, parting me, teasing the very edge of my entrance before dragging them back up to massage the evidence of my arousal around those sensitive nerves.
His voice is quiet, a flirty promising caress of words against my belly, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Oliver presses my thighs a little wider in that firm but gentle grip, so much like our fleeting reassuring touches. When I make no objection he dips down between my legs with a low exhale as he shifts my knees over his shoulders.
A shiver runs through me, and our eyes meet as he makes sure this is still ok, smiling at whatever he sees in them. Watching his face disappear against the most intimate part of me isn’t exactly low on my fantasies.
Pressing his mouth to me he takes a long lick that makes us both moan as his tongue parts me, tastes how wet I am, before sliding up to tease a coaxing exploration around the most sensitive part of me. I gasp his name, and he repeats the lashing motion his tongue just made until I moan it.
His fingers don’t stay still, again just barely teasing into me even as my hips rock up towards him. My motions don’t make him do anything other than stay at his gentle mapping of what makes me squirm.
Every nerve in my body pulses with the demand for more and I plead, “Oliver please!”
Placing a kiss over me I can see myself shining on his mouth as he smirks that rare and hidden smile before letting his jaw drop and tongue stretch out. Oliver doesn’t go back to licking so much as nodding his head against .
My thoughts scatter as I buck against him, moaning. Those wicked, terrible, perfect fingers delve in deep, slip back out, then twist and search while thrusting back in.
My right hand is futilely trying to grab his too-short hair as my left reaches, fisting the towel beneath me, needing something, something-
It takes too much to keep from trying to push his face down and messily grind on his mouth and hand. The fingers not driving me crazy tug my grip off the fabric and lace with them, squeezing mine twice in quick succession.
“This-“ I gasp arching, “This would be a-!” An uncontrolled shudder wracks through me at that curling press inside, and my voice goes high and breathy, “Really good time for a grip!”
His eyes show his smile before his face tilts up to me, letting me see that wonderful tongue chasing the shine from his lips. “Then wrap your legs around my head.” If he thought I’d be hesitant he was wrong with a capital ‘W’ and three exclamation points. I cry out a loud moan as he buries his face against me and worries his mouth against me, like he can’t taste enough. Oliver’s own groans and obscene wet lapping, slurping, feasting noises only serve to spur us both on, making my whole body tense and burn with need.
Facebook said they wanted goth so here’s my goth. I look good but not parent friendly outfit 😂 gonna get back in my skater girl clothes now. #cute #pretty #beautiful #stunning #goth #gothgirl #lipstick #darkmakeup #selfie #outfit #gothoutfit #gothclothes #emo #scene #darkclothes #black #choker #jewlery #redlips #brownhair #bracelet #hat #flatfedora #flatbrim #blackhat #fishnets #notsafeforkids #rings #wingeyeliner
Fundamental Cracks - Chapter 31 Interlude - Five years and some months ago
Read (or comment <3) over at Ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325564/chapters/31842270), started out as a thought based on one action in a later chapter and the ‘scene’ just kept growing. Not kid friendly - much smut, so be warned if that’s not your thing. A lighter, happier chapter than I’ve been able to include thus far in the story, hooray for revisiting the past.
Five years and some months ago…Away from Starling City.
We drive another couple hours after the sun sets. The trip mostly in a silence interspersed with a few handfuls of words as the stars fill the night sky. Stretching I trail my fingers up the back of his neck, over the cropped hair that makes my fingers feel prickly. Oliver ever so slightly leans his head into the touch, reminding me of a cat that is gracing me with temporary permission to pet so I let my fingernails scratch along his scalp lightly.
Humming a pleased noise, there is a pause before he motions his chin towards something in the car lights ahead. A sign reflects bright letters, listing a few gas stations, restaurants, and a ‘historic’ B&B. “Your choice Felicity, stop to eat, stop for the night, or keep going?”
“I’ll pick door number two.” A glance at my purse, “Though maybe I should turn my phone back on, check the reviews to make sure it doesn’t have bedbugs, or ghosts, or anything?”
“It was your idea to go at least a week off the grid.”
“I never said my ideas were always the best, and my cyber addiction is itching for a hit.”
“Let’s take the risk.” Oliver’s fingers reach up and squeeze my hand. I quit messing with his buzzed hair and our hands twine before resting between us.
}]}———}>
The room seems small though I know it’s not. The furniture is just so oversized it eats the space. A massive bed seemingly built of logs taking up most of the space, a bulky desk leaves enough room between the two to get to the bathroom door, a wood burning stove in the corner near the window is fitted with a small electric heater inside for ‘ambiance,’ and absolutely out of place, a large TV is mounted on the wall, clashing with the fragile yellowing photographs of people panning for gold.
I run my finger over the small stack of takeout menus near the remote. He’ll be back with the rest of the luggage in a minute and I can’t understand why I’m feeling nervous. It’s Oliver. You know him. He knows you. We have…We’ve worked together, done more than just work. If that first date hadn’t gone upside down so horribly, if he hadn’t gone to The League… I mean it’s not like we haven’t done this…done that…been there, done that, dosed him up with who knows what right after. And since then…he got married-ish, he betrayed us but not really, he…I rescued him this time, I flew an experimental suit up a dam and didn’t drop him or crash us. Now we’re on a new adventure. Come on, you’ve reinvented yourself entirely, this is easy. He’s-“
There is a knock and the leaflets scatter as my arm jerks.
“It’s me.” He doesn’t look nervous. Because there’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s totally ridiculous. Then I spot the small box covered in pictures of grapes nestled in the crook of his arm, balanced with a small plastic bag and the handles of the rest of our things.
The “Oh thank god,” escapes under my breath but the before I realize it.
Oliver notices where my eyes are focused, kicks his shoes off next to mine, and starts setting things down. “Ran across the street, they only had boxed wine in the cooler. I figured we could officially celebrate the start of our adventure.”
…
It’s nothing fancy, but drinking out of plastic cups while sitting on the floor while picking at the few gas station snacks with him feels as natural as crowded around eating takeout in the bunker. Oliver finishes off his cup and stretches his back, “It’s been a long day, and as nice as driving with the top down is, it leaves a grime…mind if I take a shower?”
“Oh, of course. No problemo.” No problemo?! “I mean that sounds good. Have fun getting,” soapy and wet, “clean.”
His fingers brush mine and give a small squeeze. “Felicity, you ok?”
“Of course!”
An eyebrow raises as his eyes narrow slightly, “Hmm…” he looks at my face, then at the tight grip I have on my wine, “Nervous?”
The denial is instant, “I’m not.”
The look on his face practically yells that he doesn’t buy my lie. “I’ll be in the shower, feel free to join me.” It is said so casually, like it’s something we’ve done together so often it’s second nature, but there is a tenseness to his jaw that hints I’m not the only one who’s more than a little nervous.
It has been a busy twenty four hours. Deciding to take off, splitting to get some sleep, pack, settle up bills and my apartment, though that’s mostly paying off Thea to shove everything I’m not taking with me into storage when she has time before the lease runs out, all the everyday things that we would be leaving behind in Starling. At nine he picked me up so I can stop by the bank for my passport and cash before hitting the road. We’d been driving with only a few pit stops since.
A minute passes and I hear the shower door close and the water turn on. Letting the water warm up while you’re in it? Crazy island man! I glance at the clock, fingers itching to just check my phone, but I’m going to stick to my tech blackout. It’s just a week, and besides, there’s a showering Oliver waiting in the next room for me…Put on- No, make that pull off your big girl panties and go for it!
I leave my glasses on the nightstand and slip into the bathroom. My eyes meet his in the mirror, he just nods and turns slightly, steam clouding the glass to give us both the illusion of privacy. The bathroom was not what I had expected, bright lights, small plants scattered across the vanity and the small window, and a modern shower enclosure instead of a claw foot tub.
His clothes are draped on the counter, so a few quick motions puts mine beside them. I notice him noticing out of a side glance. He may think he’s being stealthy, but the effect of his viewing isn’t exactly hidden. Taking my time shedding the last two pieces I tap lightly on the glass. Oliver opens it, extending a hand to help me in while moving over so I can get under the spray of water too. Not closer, not away, just over…This is Oliver, my Oliver. Honestly, what’s the worst that realistically is going to happen? It’s not like ninjas are going to suddenly- It’s not like…No. We’re away from all that and this isn’t a one last chance, it’s a new start!
Leaning up on tip toes, I press a small kiss to his lips which he returns. Our hands both hesitate before ending up chastely pressing familiar touches to each other’s shoulders and faces. A bold step forward has me pressing my front against his and the shyness crumbles.
His arms wrap around me, mouths part, and a pleased noise from one or both of us fills the small space. Wet hands slide down my back amid the patter of droplets.
As my fingertips scrape across his head again my mouth decides to break the kiss and blurt out the inappropriate before the thought fully forms, “I can’t get any sort of grip like this. I- I mean it’s short. You…They cut it-“ Stop talking! My hand retreats to press against the center of my forehead and his lips press softly against my knuckles, “It’s not bad, but I liked it…I liked how it was...”
His grin is faint, but there at the corners of his mouth and eyes, while his words cut off that ramble, “Well the League was a bit more focused on fighting than grabbable hair styles.”
Tell that to Ra’s al Ghul…or wait, is Oliver now…? Well the prior…last…the Ghul formerly known as Ra’s…and his daughter, and Sarah, and..Come on! You’re in the shower with him, quit thinking about other people!
The silence has stretched on too long, he puts an breath of distance between us, “Hey, if you’re having second thoughts-“
“No! No second thoughts, just my regular irrelevant thoughts…the voices in my- not real voices, just my own voice in my own mind-”
He inches back a bit further, “We don’t have to do anything-“
What? “You don’t want to do anything?”
Oliver leans his head forward, his lips brushing my ear gently, “I think it’s pretty clear, right now, what I want. Who I want.”
My eyes flick downwards of their own accord. Yep…clearly hard as- clear as crystal. I move my hand back in place, sending water droplets from his hair. “Just let it grow enough to let my fingers get hold?” His eye sparkle and the faintest twitch pulses at the edge of his jaw as he nods into the touch. It takes me a heartbeat, trying to figure out why he’s doing the Oliver equivalent of cuckling, then a mental groan forms at how else that can be taken. Well we both know what direction tonight is going, let him take it both ways.
“Kiss me.” I keep it from being a question and one press of lips turns into two, then three. A seduction of kisses and a soft exploration of touches that goes on delightfully for another couple minutes until the water sudden goes from wonderfully steamy to tap temperature. His reflexes are fast, but even so they send him reaching for the handle a second too late to keep it from hitting pause on the make-out session as I gasp at the shock and press myself to the glass to get it open.
…
Draped in towels we make our way the few steps over towards the bed. Another kiss turns into a handful. Then a handful of his towel and a tug sends the fabric dropping from my fingers, leaving Oliver standing before me in all his glory. His breath catches when I keep that boldness and wrap my fingers around his ‘interest.’
He keeps waiting for me to make those steps forward, and that’s starting to make this less fun. I want the give and take of our couldn’t-possibly-be-flirting, the shared desperation of our only time doing this together before. Well, then, let me do something I didn’t do then and see how he reacts to that.
He makes my name a rather strained question when I pull away from him, sliding my hand up the center line of his body. Pushing him in the center of the chest moves him absolutely nowhere so I give a smirk and point, “Sit on the bed.” There is no pause, if he’s resetting his thoughts it doesn’t slow him down as he immediately sits where instructed.
There are three types of first times people choose to have for their new experiences with a new sexy time partner. The go with the flow, whatever happens, happens. The play it safe, being a bit conservative with what you're doing so there is easy improvement when you get more familiar with each other’s preferences. Then there is the camp I fall into, the all in, make it as amazing as possible, fantasy fuel, so when they think of whatever it is you're doing it will forever be the clearest memory, the thing they think about with a little suggestion or flirt.
Tightening my towel I slide down to my knees. He gets it and starts to protest, "You don't-" My fingers wrap around his length, guiding the swollen head right to my lips. Oliver doesn't finish what he was going to say as I press a kiss to the clean damp skin.
A small taste of the underside sends a shudder running through him. He makes such a soft needy noise, as my fingers stroke up until they meet my mouth then firmly back down, that my core clenches.
The sweep of my tongue across the clear bead forming at his tip turns to a kiss, then to gliding his length past my lips. My name is a moan, and I need to hear it again. Teasing a loose grip I stroke in time with my bobbing. When stray blonde strands keep getting in the way I let him go with a pop and give him one more command, “Little help with my hair.”
His fingers immediately go to my face, moving the hair out of the way and holding it high on the back of my head.
The first anything will always be memorable so I am extra enthusiastic, learning what speed to move my hand, if he responds better to a full gripped stroke or just a thumb and finger, if sweeping licks or fluttering ones best draw out his quiet moans and make his fingers clench in my hair.
Glancing up I see his eyes are closed tight. Releasing him from my mouth with a pop I stroke him slowly in my hand, “See how nice it is to get a big handful of hair in your grip?”
He groans, and I can feel the tension in his body, the way his hips give these tiny motions as he tries, nearly fails, to keep from bucking up with each stroke. I savor this side of Oliver, his demands on his self control are almost always locked down tight, and this, from this point on is my chance to reward that, break that, learn together how to be happy.
I hum and praise with my lips, tongue, and hands covering every inch of his cock with attention, but also caressing and teasing with feather-light scratches over his belly, inner thighs, and balls, searching for any special sensitive points that make his breath choppy and moans ragged. His restrained movements grow jerky, nearly matching my rhythm as I stroke and suck and lick.
“Watch.” I tease, hearing the smile in my voice before dragging my tongue around the silky smooth crown of him.
“Felicity, I…I can’t-“ His grip is getting tighter with every motion. I can hear, fuck I can feel, what the idea of staring down at me with my mouth wrapped around him does, and my own body responds in kind with tightly clenching muscles and a flush rising to my cheeks. It makes me greedy, a craving for that loss of control. A need, a must have, and I’m not above fighting dirty to get it.
I let my teeth barely graze the path I just took, following with another fast lick and feel him throb in my grip. “Watch.”
His voice cracks, rasping my name in a plea for mercy, making heat pool between my legs.
I cup him, palm just barely helping to support the base of his cock as I lick attention around the glans, “Please, Oliver…,” a small glide of him a few inches into then out of my mouth while tilting my head as far into the grip on my hair allows so he can feel me staring up at him. Letting him hover there, shiny and slick, only my breath teasing against him as I turn the request into a demand, “Watch.”
When Oliver’s eyes force themselves to open to narrow slits I smile, taking him back into my mouth. He swears and his eyes strain wider, pupils flared so wide that on the tiniest sliver of blue remains. That gaze flicks from my mouth to my eyes, to his fingers buried in my hair, then back to my face. One hand manages to release its grip and grabs my wrist, trying to tug me up. I hum a negative around a mouthful of him, giving the smallest shake of my head while sucking just that much harder.
“I-“ He squeezes his eyes closed tight for a mere heartbeat before rasping, “I’m-“
I let the smile show in my eyes. Permission, encouragement, a demand, however he takes it when I make a vibration more than a sound of, “Mmm hmm,” his control shatters.
His body jerks and I feel him pulsing, filling my mouth. The noises he makes are unrestrained, wordless, but other than the few times he’s quietly told me ‘I love you’ they are now the best sounds I have heard from him.
Oliver couldn’t keep his eyes open past the first breath of release, the agony and bliss warring on his face beautifully. That doesn’t mean I stop. I don’t stop watching, and definitely don’t stop wringing out as much of his pleasure as his body will give until his shallow gasps are surely making him dizzy and the muscles in his legs are trembling. Only then do I ease up, not off, keeping him in my mouth and grip, letting him start to catch his breath and slowly go soft in a hot, wet embrace.
“Felicity,” I can hear how he struggles to make the syllables coherent, “that w-…I…think I…you…” The hand in my hair, still shaking, slips to caress the side of my face.
Even ignoring how turned on I am right now, and that stumbling attempt at what is surely praise, the rush from having that much power over him, the ability to make Oliver get to that state, is intoxicating. Gently I release him, my smile wide. “I enjoyed that too.”
Bending, Oliver pulls me up, not hesitating to kiss me hard as he settles me gingerly over his lap, “My turn.”
I know he’s trying to sound sexy, but the sheer breathiness of his voice makes it difficult not to laugh, “Yes please.”
He nuzzles my nose with his, hands sliding to my shoulders. A pivoting twist finds him easing me onto my back before I realize that he’s laying me across the bed. Peppering gentle kisses over my face Oliver tugs my towel open. He stares, just stares for a long moment as if etching this view of me into his memories. Caressing over my exposed skin with broad strokes he murmurs, “Have I told you I love you, today?”
Playfully sing-songing my words, I skitter fingers over his tattoos, needing to touch as much as I need to be touched, “You can always tell me again.”
He does.
Oliver tells me he loves me as the scruff of his beard tickles against my jaw, in whispers between slow kisses down the column of my throat. As his fingers lead the way in a lazy path that brushes over my chest, he asks with a look, then as I arch my back to try and hurry him up, savors one pebbled nipple with that wicked mouth.
I grab his hand, sliding it down between my thighs. Oliver laughs for half a second at my impatience but that is quickly replaced by an almost pained groan as those long calloused fingers glide across the obscenely wet skin they find there. He sucks on my breast and I feel each pull like a direct line to where his hand toys. Moaning his name only encourages him to repeat the suckling over the other side, both easing and growing the ache in me.
His hand cups over my sex, middle two fingers dragging through slicked folds as I lean up into his attentions, my hands clutching at his shoulders. Our eyes meet and he releases my nipple with a quiet pop of his lips. A far too slow for my sanity smattering of kisses trail down my midline, the tips of that pair of fingers circle over my clit, slide to part me, expose me, teasing the very edge of my entrance before dragging them back up to massage the evidence of my arousal around those sensitive nerves.
His voice is quiet, a flirty promising caress of words against my belly, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Oliver presses my thighs a little wider in that firm but gentle grip, so much like our fleeting reassuring touches. Need is an ember, burning through my veins and he is taking too damn long to stoke it to a blaze. When I make no objection he dips down between my legs with a low exhale as he shifts my knees over his shoulders.
A shiver runs through me, and our eyes meet as he makes sure this is still ok, smiling at whatever he sees in mine. Watching his face disappear against the most intimate part of me isn’t exactly low on my fantasies.
Pressing his mouth to me he takes a long lick that makes us both moan as his tongue sweeps over me, tastes how wet I am, before sliding up to tease a coaxing exploration around my most sensitive nerves. I gasp his name, and he repeats the lashing motion with his tongue until I moan it.
His fingers don’t stay still, again just barely teasing into me even as my hips rock up towards him. My motions don’t make him do anything other than stay at his gentle mapping of what makes me cry out and franticly squirm.
Every nerve in my body pulses with the demand for more and I plead for it in ragged words.
An intimate tongue filled kiss is placed over me then his face lifts. I can see myself shining on his mouth, dripping down his chin as he smirks that rare and hidden smile. I curse and it grows wider before he lets his jaw drop and tongue stretch out. Oliver doesn’t go back to licking so much as nodding his head, making the pressure broad and firm against me.
Thoughts scattering as I buck against him, moaning, Those wicked, terrible, perfect fingers delve in deep, nearly slip back out in their retreat, then twist and search while thrusting back in. The vibrations his low noise makes when my body clenches instinctively around him make me gasp.
My right hand is futilely trying to grab his too-short hair as my left desperately reaches, fisting the towel beneath me, needing something, something-
It takes too much to keep from trying to push his face down and messily grind on his mouth and hand, my body undulates as his work sends teasingly sharp zings of pleasure through my core. The fingers not driving me crazy tug my grip off the fabric and lace with them, squeezing mine twice in quick succession when I cling to that with as hard a grasp as my muscles allow.
“This-“ I gasp arching, my voice growing ever higher, “This would be a-!” An uncontrolled shudder wracks through me at that curling press inside, and I have to force out the rest of the thought on breathy squeak, “Really g-good time for a-aaa-ah grip!”
His eyes show his smile before his face tilts up to me, letting me see that wonderful tongue chasing the shine from his lips. “Then wrap your legs around my head.” If he thought I’d be hesitant he was wrong with a capital ‘W’ and three exclamation points. I cry out a loud moan as he buries his face firmly and worries his mouth against me, like he can’t taste enough as my legs wrap so tight that my knees nearly touch. Oliver’s own groans and obscene wet lapping, slurping, feasting noises only serve to spur us both on, making my whole body tense and burn with need, so, so close.
A third finger pushes into me, the whole set curling and twisting as his lips surround the small focus of my pleasure, tongue swirling as the pressure changes and he sucks hard and the demand breaks. Pulses of electric pleasure ignite through me, my release uncontrolled as I writhe and buck, the wordless cries as he doesn’t stop, riding my pleasure like a lightening storm shattering any cognizant thought for an eternity of seconds.
He is much stronger than me and that is the only reason he is able to stay there amid my thrashing, even so he has to breathe sometime.
Oliver has to break away with hard gasps as my legs are still quivering against his shoulders, his fingers immediately slipping free and replacing the pressure of his tongue as he pants for air. “S-sorry…dizzy.”
I'm nearly gasping with over-sensitized laughter. Feeling my heart racing in my chest while a rhythmic flaring of aftershocks sends my nerves jumping. I can feel my pulse against the firm press of those fingers and whimper as my insides clenches tight around nothing.
“You ok?”
An involuntary bucking of my body steals a strained, nearly hysterical giggle, “Too…much!” He lifts the hand reluctantly. My muscles finally given the ability to go lax as his face comes back into clear focus focus. It’s a mess and he looks smug but dazed. I repeat his question back at him, managing to rasp out, “You…you ok?”
He nods, then slowly, absolutely deliberately, makes sure I watch as he wipes his mouth then licks and sucks each shining finger clean, moaning as his gaze flicks across every inch of skin in front of him. “Can I do that again?”
Fuck! My insides clench and I shiver, “M-maybe not just…yet…”
His hand skims up my belly, tracing whorls over my breasts as his body carefully stretches over mine, murmuring my own words from earlier smugly back at me, "I enjoyed that too." The hard proof of his enjoyment presses against still too sensitive parts and I try to shift my hips away with a gasp.
Oliver kisses me slowly, finding sensitive spots along my shoulders and throat, takes his time showing my body he loves mine with caresses and tastes until I'm wrapping my leg around his hips to get him closer.
It may have been all fun and games teasing and toying with him earlier, but as good as I’m sure he can make me squirm my body is ready again. My voice is a growl, as my nails dig into his shoulders when his readiness drags against my core, “Oliver!”
His hips shift and the tip nudges downward, “This ok?”
I nod and he kisses me again, pressing forward and instead only managing to bump along my inner thigh, our bodies still new to this with each other. I squirm and he tries again, the angle is awkward…then a push forward and- “Not-! Higher!”
With a frustrated noise he pulls away from the kiss, reaching between us, aligning, rubbing that thick head to coat himself with me. My leg tightens and we both let that pull his hips down. I don't think either of us breathes until he's filled me.
"You ok?" Tension flexes his muscles as he watches my face.
I take a breath savoring the feel of my body adjusting to his. "Soooo ok."
Oliver presses his forehead to mine as he makes that first motion away and thrusts back in.
It is not perfect, real life rarely is. I may be subject to an attack of giggles as the bed squeaks and groans noisily at the combined weight of us and the building pace. It only adds to our own soundtrack, and his grin, accepting the challenge to try and find the motions that will steal the laughter away is fucking magic.
We roll so I ride him, my fingers coaxing me higher and our eyes scour across each other’s exposed flesh and open desire, committing each sight and sound to memory. It is loving, pure and simple. His body loves mine and mine responds in kind to every pleasure until there is no him or me, just us.
His hand is tight on my hips, helping with the pace as I gasp his name, the rhythmic wet beat of our bodies straining those tightening coils of pleasure low in my belly, nearly bursting once again. He reaches up and grabs a handful of my hair, dragging my face down to his gently so my hand is trapped between us. My breath hitches as he grazes my lips.
“Get there again for me- please? You are so, Oh God!, so amazing! Please Felicity, let me feel-”
It is a fraction of a second, I feel him swell just that tiny bit thicker at my entrance as he thrusts deep, hear his voice catch, feel our bodies grinding together, my fingers mashing just rough enough right against myself in that frantic passion that the tension snaps. Agonizing bliss sizzles out across my nerves, some wordless cry tears out of my throat then is captured by his kiss as his body tenses and I feel him pouring into me with a strained gasping of his own.
We are both trembling, jerky in the movements our bodies make in reaction rather than choice, our words lost to nonsense noises in my ringing ears but neither of us loosens our grip on the other.
Eventually the intensity eases. Our skin is too hot to stay pressed together this way and too sensitive to part during the long minutes of trying to catch our breath.
When he finally starts to go soft inside me, something I know doesn’t take hours but feels far more like that than another minute or so, the stretch of his size eases into just my body’s not-quite-achy acknowledgement of thorough use, his hands try to lift my hips. We both hiss and squirm as sensitive parts move against each other, and I swear raggedly as I feel the evidence of his pleasure slip from me. Oliver bites hard on his lip, eyes tightening as he groans the mirror of my curse. Another second and I’m beside rather than astride him, our arms still sprawled across each other’s bodies but the air helping to wick away sweat.
My mind is scattered, flitting between wanting to moan from yet another aftershock, to appreciating how the gentle motions of his fingertips feel, to the random thought fails it’s attempt to escape as a babble that at least the towel will help with the mess so neither of us will have to sleep on a wet spot, to the fact that this was real, real, this is real, not some deep dream fantasy.
Some amount of time passes and he shifts, silently padding to the bathroom and back to hand me a warm damp washcloth. I know I will need a few more minutes before my body will agree to any sort of idea of cleanup so I just gingerly place it between my legs. His hand caresses my jaw and he places a feather light kiss against my lips.
With multiple dimensions of Earths mistakes are easy to make, some are innocent, some are very much not.
Unbeta’d
Felicity.
A frustrated laugh teases against my lips. His voice is low, rough around the edges, “That’s my phone.”
I dig my fingers into those gorgeous exposed shoulders of his, encouraging him to stay on task exactly where he is. “Work…,” a soft pleading kiss before he can pull away, “or telemarketers…Ignore it, we’re in the middle of something more important, Husband.” I use the title to my unfair advantage, and it is a glowing success. After the briefest hesitations he kisses me again as the chimes continue, his hand picking back up doing delightful things with small focused motions.
I’m moaning, writhing, as his mouth resumes teasing its way down from my clavicle, on a journey that he breathes in midnight toned promises against my skin. When my phone joins the chorus, Oliver’s head tilts, looks up to my face, then over at the dual ringing. “Your phone-“
The use of his lips and tongue to state the obvious instead of continuing is not appreciated. A shake of my head denying it, hips arching up, encouraging, reaching and pressing on his wrist, grinding those fingers to reach juuust right. My breath hitches, “Work, s-spam, ign…ore!”
He curses under his breath, while those damn phones continue repeating their demands. I say his name the same way he just swore, seeing the tensing as he debates staying here instead of answering the rings. “I know, just let me check…I promise I’ll make it up to you.” His fingers ease from my body, hand from my grip, pushing up to his knees and giving me a teasing view of those soft sleep pants tented out with the evidence he is just as into this as I am.
Oliver’s expression is full of arousal and apology, even as my fingers try to replace his. I frown, letting him see the disappointment, and feel my other fingertips through the small collections of items on the hand towel near my side, not wanting to lose the progress. By the time he’s standing I’ve nudged aside the condoms, massage oil/lube combo, buzzy stretchy cock ring, and palmed the toy I sought.
He taps his phone, his fingers may be on the screen, but his eyes follow me. Oliver’s mouth opens but no sound comes out. Fully knowing this goes against the 'he's in charge' premise of everything tonight in the attempt to hopefully repeat the delightful results of date night what feels like an eternity ago when it was my turn to lead, I give him a wink then let my eyes flutter shut as I press the small button and let it hum against me. Granted we have a great spontaneity, our chemistry needs no encouragement, but with how busy we’ve both been these occasionally scheduled date nights have been a welcome addition.
"Oliver? Oliver are you there?!"
Oh...the ex. Goodbye mood for everyone. Unsurprisingly his focus shifts. With a mental sigh I turn off the vibrations. Letting the toy fall back down to its resting place I extend my one clean hand and he distractedly passes over my phone. A glance at the screen then I'm clearing my throat then quipping with false cheer, "Hey Team Two. 'Sup in Central?" at whoever is calling from the STAR Labs line.
"Felicity!" Hello Iris, "Cisco was browsing through the…what do you call it?...“ The question is not directed at me, “-multiverse spectrum and says he got a big hit that Ol- well you and Oliver need to get to this one." Straight to the point, thank you ma’am.
A faint voice carries over the line, obviously further away from the phone, "As soon as possible...now...like yesterday."
She translates that to me as, "He says it's urgent you both get here."
I look over to where Oliver is pacing, his features tight, his voice getting increasingly strained and quieter as he tries to get more details from Samantha with concise questions. Concern is growing, gnawing at the peace of the night, "Now's not... I don’t think it'll be a good time for him."
"It's got something to do with his son, something to save our version of William with... I don’t know what to call it…Cisco I am NOT calling it that!...something from that-"
I bump it to speakerphone and raise my voice to get his attention across the room, "Oliver! Conference call, now. Betting both calls are related." He takes the steps closer while I place my phone on the bed and dash to our closets while listening to what’s being said. I grab a couple sets of clothes for both of us along with a pair of dampened washcloths. Taking care of my clean up and dressing while the details are shared, I keep moving, scooping up the entire towel of things and shoving it in the nightstand…well everything but the toy, that gets dropped in the bathroom sink for cleanup later.
Samantha and William will be at the lab before we are obviously, but hopefully the crew can do something to help while we're flooring it there.
}]}———}>
Minutes later we are in the elevator, headed down to the parking level his car is in.
“I’m sorry.”
My jaw drops, but he’s watching the numbers tick down, not looking at me. “Oliver Queen, don’t you dare! William takes priority and we both know it.” I raise our joined hands up between us, “However, Husband,” I trace my tongue against the skin between his first and second fingers, “you do owe me.” I can taste the nearly washed away hint of myself, not my favorite flavor but that’s not the point because ever since our wedding he’s seemed damn near addicted to it. If I wasn’t so close I’d have missed the faint tensing, the silently sucked in breath as his eyes meet mine in the mirrored panels. Once those doors open we will be all business but I’m not passing up the last chance I might have to lighten his mood and draw away his focus before whatever is going to go down happens.
He dips his head down, kissing me hard, desperate for that fast comfort of touch; it’s instinctive but entirely necessary, and the tightness of the embrace he wraps me in lets me know just how much he needs it.
}]}———}>
He’s already pressed the fob to unlock it, but as we approach the car he hesitates half a step, "The motorcycle might be faster?"
I really don't want to spend the trip with the promise of the night rumbling between my legs...”We’re already here,” I pat the messenger bag at my side, packed with a laptop, tablet, and the handful of useful equipment we keep hidden away at our place, all nestled in safely with the extra clothes, “besides, in the car I can use the satellites to avoid traffic, and I can look up the schematics as Iris compiles them from what Cisco sees.”
We make it outside the city in record speed. It turns out blueprints are not needed, not really, we’ll be breaking in to their version of Queen Consolidated.
}]}———}>
A horn blares and something presses against my shoulder to keep me back as the car shifts, startling me awake with a jerk as the acceleration continues and the car steadies. “Sorry! Sorry. Was a bit tight through there.” His arm retreats back to his side of the car.
I apologize, even if it’s a tangle of noises instead of actual words. My groggy mind suspects that I might have misunderstood just how spiked the ‘spiked fruit’ was earlier tonight because those wedges of watermelon, pineapple, and peaches betrayed my plans to be useful, having lulled me into the warm haze of an accidental nap. At least he did stick with the car so I was buckled in, rather than falling off. “Want me to drive?”
My question was perfectly reasonable, but earns a very fast, if polite, comment that I should try to catch another nap for the last twenty miles.
With multiple dimensions of Earths mistakes are easy to make, some are innocent, some are very much not.
Unbeta’d
Oliver.
The movie is cute…or as much as what passes as a romantic comedy outside of the summer hits and holiday seasons can be. She likes them. All my attention is on the beautiful woman who is my wife, seated inches from me. She’s engrossed with the action on the screen…Time to play.
“Not a sound.” My voice is barely louder than a breath, tickling against her ear. Felicity tilts her head, discreetly trying to look at me while also keeping an eye on the movie. Fingers brushing against her knee, dragging two, maybe three inches back and forth on the inside of her leg break that media spell. Not quite innocent, but not inappropriate touches.
Goosebumps form under the path. I know it’s not so much the tease but the wicked promise, that I’ll move higher and just how much higher, making her breath hitch. The relaxation of her drink is gone as I do gain another inch, the silky skin along her inner thigh tensing, her legs parting further, just begging for me to slide my fingers all the way up then replace them and nuzzle, taste…play until risking beard burn when her legs will inevitably clamp tight around my face.
We’ll never know how far up my fingers would have made it, unfortunately, because she breathes my name, starting to whisper something about skipping the rest of the movie. I cut her off, pulling away and wrapping my hand around hers, tsking while kissing the small space just between her knuckles and her rings.
She pouts through the last half hour of the movie, squirming and finishing the fruit from her drink when the love scene happens, rather than plead to ditch again. My plans to continue inching my way up her thigh in the car are spoiled by the paparazzi trying to follow and snap pictures of us like they have since before the wedding, trying to find filler fluff for slow news days. When her hands attempt to sneak over to my lap while I drive, a short, “Honey, these pants aren’t the best for teasing, and I need to keep my attention on the road,” is the entirety of my argument. When those same hands start sliding over her own skin I wonder just what proof the boozy fruit in that sangria were, make a mental note to make and freeze some for another day, and rather than distract her with photographer worries I repeat a very interested, “Felicity, I need to keep my attention on the road.”
}]}———}>
Small presses of lips to her face, toying with her hair, feeling her body pressing into mine as we ride the elevator up, they’re all sweet, and all a ruse; I whisper to her all the not sweet that is on my mind and in my plans for tonight.
Once the door to our place closes behind us I hoist her up, Felicity’s legs wrap around my waist as I kiss her downright obscenely. I steal her breath, warm her skin, make her gasp out ‘Oliver!’ while pressing her against the wall of the bedroom grinding my interest against hers, pulling her tight and tighter. Only the weight of me and the press of my hands in her hair hold her still enough to kiss harder. She makes all these delicious little noises trying to writhe to get me rubbing against her exactly how she needs. I don’t though, I just tease us both, kissing her harder, until she is just beautifully unselfconscious reactions.
Breaking my mouth from hers, tightening my grip above her ears so her attempt to follow my lips fails, I bump her nose with mine, making my voice a series of commands. “Take off the makeup. Hair down. Leave the contacts in, I want you to have a clear view of everything we do. Lose the dress. When you’re done, get in the center of the bed.” When I slide her to the ground and let go she practically runs to her sink.
I smile to myself, pulling off my suit and changing into something soft and loose. The water is shutting off as I’m laying out a towel between the center and edge of the bed, perfectly in reach, full of a variety of toys and accessories I plan to use through our activities tonight.
Felicity steps out, the soft glow of the bathroom light framing her. My breath catches and blood move where it will be most useful in the coming moments. I clear my throat, smothering a smile as she eases onto the bed. “I didn’t say to take off anything under your dress.” By the bite of her lip we both remember the consequence of doing something she hadn’t told me to do the last time we played the reverse of this.
Felicity settles back, legs slightly spread, beautifully exposed in the dim light. She looks down the line of her body, then up at me again, a flush spreading across her cheeks. “I didn’t.”
“You should be sorr-“ Wait, what? That wasn’t an apology. “You didn’t?” She shakes her head. Then all night she was…If she had stayed quiet in the movie…”Stay still.” I lean over and kiss her softly, innocently, while my fingers slide ever so slowly from her knee up to her thigh. Up, up, slowly up. She tenses so I capture her lower lip between my teeth, lifting my hand away. The noise of protest technically doesn’t break the demand not to move, but still… Lightly smacking my fingertips between her thighs, wriggling them to tease between each strike draws out a gasped plea. Another smack of three fingers, this time harder and against the soft skin of her inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make it sensitive, readying for my plans. “Remember, don’t move unless I say you can.” The quiet clapping sounds mix with her increasingly louder breathing as the smooth parts of her grow pink.
I shuffle down, nibbling a path down her throat, capturing each nipple in turn and working it, alternating sharp and gentle bites and licks until they’re tight peaks. Then I lean up to whisper in her ear, “Open.” She doesn’t ask what, both lips and thighs parting for me. I have to adjust myself, indulging in a stroke or two over the fabric before planting my knees and raising her thighs over mine. Her fingers grip around handfuls of blanket as I spread her open and run my fingers through the arousal I find, thumb settling in place as two fingers tease her entrance. She’s ready, more than ready, coating me with beautiful slickness. So of course I’m going to torture us both and make her wait.
“Hold on to me,” I cage her body with mine, elbow bracing myself over her while my other hand just barely rotates, earning a breathy moan. My mouth meets hers, smiling as I feel the tense grip of her hands clutch at my back. Fingers and tongue slip past two different sets of lips at the same agonizing pace. Her muscles clench around me, as if she could force me to move faster. The kiss is begging, her wordless noises tempting me to just grab the condom and give up this game, but I promised myself I’d make this last, savoring the play of her body with mine.
Curling my fingers and feeling the tremble they cause as they find just the right spot while my thumb keeps rubbing the small bundle of nerves that has her hips twitching, I whisper, “Know what would feel better than my hand right…here?” I draw out her gasp as I increase the pressure against both.
“You!” her voice is breathy, unhesitant, making me grin again.
My voice is lower, quieter, “Which part of me?” If she says my cock I’ll use my mouth and fingers, if she says my mouth I’ll bury every inch into her and slowly make her come apart around me.
“Please Oliver, you’ve been teasing all night!”
My choice then. “If you had just left this beautiful gift of you wrapped up in that lace I would have opened you up and played you like a birthday present.” I have to tease her about the lack of underwear. Especially after that set she cruelly tempted me with this morning, just leaving those tiny bits of soft lace hanging to dry in the bathroom so I couldn’t help but stare in the mirror while shaving for work imagining how they’d hug her curves. She knew I had a meeting I couldn’t miss first thing today.
I give a chaste kiss to her lips then start kissing back down her throat again, fingers plunging into the wet heat, building up to the speed she loves. I’ll make her come against my mouth, then fuck her until she does it again. Best of both options. I whisper my intentions between kisses, feeling her trying not to squirm, breathing out begging pleas at each pause. Tonguing the dip at the base of her throat, I can feel her arousal sliding down my knuckles. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting her lose control, I stretch my neck and jaw as I go, planning on taking my time to savor this. The way her body is pushing up against my hand, she’s already close. I’m aching to get inside her but I know just how long I can drag this out. A twisting scissoring my fingers inside her pulls out a gasp of my name, I capture the noise with my mouth.
It takes a second to recognize musical chiming filling the room. You’ve got to be kidding me.
