“You need more sunscreen.”
She shrugged, turning to look at her shoulder from where she laid on her stomach. She was getting a little red. “Do you mind?” she asked, picking up the bottle and already knowing the answer. He sat up, taking it from her hands and squeezing some of it into his palm.
Felicity pulled her hair over her shoulder and put her head down, closing her eyes and enjoying the slow and gentle way he worked his fingers over her back, neck and arms. She knew he wasn’t even trying to turn her on, just being an overly protective husband as he made sure that every inch of her skin was covered. But then he moved on to her legs, giving her backside a tender squeeze as he slid his fingers over her skin.
She giggled, moving her arm so she could look up at him. Oliver smiled back, leaning over to kiss her nose before he dropped back down onto the blanket beside her. She watched him for a moment, sprawled out on his back, angling his face up at the sun and closing his eyes.
“It’s not fair that you can get so tan, and I have to put on six layers of sunblock and I still come home looking like a lobster.”
His mouth twitched with a smile, “yeah, aloe is not nearly as sexy to put you when every time I touch you, you say ‘ow.’”
She rolled her eyes, “you’d think the burns would turn into a tan. But nope. Just back to pasty… and then it starts all over again with the next one.”
He raised his eyebrows, keeping his eyes closed as he spoke, “I told you we could try somewhere cold.”
She scrunched her nose, “Freezing to death in a blizzard doesn’t sound very fun or romantic to me.”
“I was thinking more like a cozy resort on a mountain in Norway. I could teach you how to ski during the day and then we could curl up in front of fire at night.”
Felicity hit his arm, “well why didn’t you say that before!?”
He huffed, “because I said ‘Felicity, I think we should take a honeymoon,’ and you said ‘Boo yeah! I’m packing my bags, see ya in Bermuda, baby!’”
Felicity laid back down on the blanket, folding her arms to use as a pillow and looking at Oliver’s profile. Being in the sunlight in all of his muscled, beautiful glory looked so good on him.
He seemed completely at peace, teasing her lightheartedly, happy. And he was right about marriage, it felt so good to know that he was her husband. It was better. Oliver freaking Queen was her husband. She was his wife. The words just made her feel giddy, like a kid on Christmas every time she thought about it. Married. Oliver. Husband. Wife.
If someone would have told her six years ago that she was going to marry him, she would have laughed in their face. But now she couldn’t imagine it any other way. And they’d only officially been married for two weeks. How could she already have forgotten what it felt like, before she woke up every day smiling because she was his wife? Now she woke up each morning with him by her side and a weight on her finger as reminders of how the rest of their lives were going to be. Together.
“Oliver, you wanna get married?”
Oliver opened his eyes, squinting as he turned his head to look at her. He glanced around for a moment, his lips pursing, “we did that.”
Felicity shrugged, filling her hands with the white sand of their Bermuda beach and watching it fall through her fingers. She glanced over at him, enjoying the confused look on his face, as if he was wondering if she’d forgotten it happened. “What if we did it again?”
A slow smile spread across his face, and he shook his head at her, turning his face back towards the sun and closing his eyes. Smug. “I barely got you to marry me the first time, now you want to do it every two weeks?”
Felicity laughed, sliding across the blanket so she could rest her chest over his. He stared up at her, his hand instinctively reaching behind her back to run his fingers from the knot of her bikini top to the waistband of her bottoms. “Yeah, maybe I do. Is that a problem, Queen?”
Oliver smiled up at her, “No, but I think people would stop showing up. You can only watch the same two people get married so many times before it gets boring, Queen.”
Felicity nodded, tracing his chest with a sandy finger. “How about just me and you then?”
Oliver bit his lip. “Your mom will kill you. She planned that whole reception for the night after we get back. I think her denial of jet-lag is her way of getting revenge on us for not having her there the first time. I don’t want to have to hold her back if she tries to kill you for marrying me again without letting her be there to see it.”
Felicity huffed, playfully nudging him. “Do you wanna re-marry me tonight on a beach in Bermuda or not?”
“Yes.” He nodded, smiling up at her and pulling her tighter against his chest. “Yeah. I’ll marry you as many times as you want, honey.”
“Good,” she smiled, leaning down to press her lips against his. He tasted salty from when she’d dragged him into the ocean earlier, insisting that he enjoy her in all of her bikini glory before they had to go back to the cold Star City. He tasted like pure bliss.
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