My body felt taut and stiff in Oliver Queen's arms. His hand guided mine, holding back the arrow that was far more relaxed than I. I took a deep breath, releasing the strings with his aid, but for the 10th time, it whizzed in entirely the wrong direction.
"If you'd only relax, I know you could do it." He whispers in my ear, lowering my arms as he rests the bow on a nearby table. Something about this night feels of loneliness and longs for something more. I long for something more. To be touched again, loved.
"Okay. I'll get the drinks if you get the glasses ready." I say, knowing exactly what he meant by relax. It had been a hard night after all.
He nods, finally releasing my hand but not shrinking any of the sexual tension as we part.
Coming back with some vodka I still had left from after Jimmy's death, I find him seated with two glasses, each filled with a single red cherry.
I sit down opposite him, rolling my shoulders back. Relax. Relax. Relax. I tell myself as he pours the drinks.
Several in, with mischief dancing in both our eyes, I lean boldly forward, taking his cherry and mine, popping them in my mouth. I swallow the cherry, and roll my tongue out, perfectly dropping the dainty knotted stems into my empty glass.
He watches me closely, a smirk lifting both sides of his mouth. God, was he sexy...my thoughts ran into the gutter and I found myself blushing, forcing myself to remember who I was. I was Chloe Olsen, married women. It had been over a year, but I loved Jimmy. I wasn't ready to move on. And besides, Oliver was Lois's sloppy seconds. This was wrong, wasn't it?
I start to stand, clearing my throat, but as I do, I feel his hands grab me again. The heat from his touch clouds my mind, mixing with the vodka and giving off a buzz. I take a few deep breaths trying to calm myself but his mouth meets mine and I melt against his strong form.
He grips my arms tighter, lifting me up to his height in a flurry of passion and before long I'm pushed against my wall, his eager mouth leaving a trail of kisses down my pinned arm and back up to my mouth. Our tongues play a game of tug of war as we spin dizzingly toward my bed, clothes flinging off.
I needed this, and I could feel his hunger as well, but I did not need the complications of a relationship. That much was clear even in my haze.
As he kissed my chest, his arms tangled around me, I fumbled in the drawer beside the bed. Nothing had been touched since Jimmy placed it where it was. I found the pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs he had always enjoyed, locking Oliver up in what he mistook as the heat of the moment.
I needed him to listen to me; I needed to change the swing of the power.
"Got me all tied up, sidekick." He mumbled, his voice rough as a cocky smirk spread across his face.
I pulled back looking sharply at him. "Shut up. No strings, no one knows, no promises, no complications..." I begin, stressed. Why did I want this? Jimmy's death was too fresh.
He nods, taking me back surprisingly well with one hand "Of course." he says gruffly before kissing me again.
The next morning, my eyelids fluttered feeling movement as the rush of last night's events returned quickly. Oh god...I couldn't help thinking.
Oliver got dressed quickly, thinking I was still asleep. He left without a word, no strings attached at all apparently.
After a safe amount of time, I got dressed, replaying it all in my head. My one regret was that I had none. And that it would happen again. Our bodies had melded perfectly; me the bow and arrow, him the experienced archer. He knew when to pull back on me, and when to push harder. He knew how to let my body grow taut before the climax and release of everything.
Oh yes. This would happen again.
