Title: Surround
Category: Arrow
Genre: Romance
Ship: Felicity/Oliver
Overall Rating: nc-17/explicit
Chapter Word Count: 2,843
Prompt: Based on Strangers In The Night Series by Matty (#6 Surround)
Summary: "AU. Strangers with a physical relationship. One of them is undercover."
-1/3-
I like to think that I'm a relatively normal person. I'm not typically the kind of person that takes unnecessary risks, my sense of self preservation is perfectly standard, and I go to the doctor and dentist regularly because it's what someone who takes good care of themselves is supposed to do. Yes, Felicity Megan Smoak is one hundred percent sane thank you very much.
So of course, when I hear the unmistakable creak and squeal of the window in my living room - the one that was painted shut and that I'd fought with until finally winning - roughly sliding open, I reach for the largest and most deadly looking pan in my collection. I thank whatever god exists that I can't stand to wear shoes inside my apartment and can pad silently across my small kitchen and into the living room.
I know with absolute certainty that I wasn't expecting him. Maybe it's all the movies and shows that I watch, the ones that taught me to expect a greasy looking assailant with tattered clothes, missing teeth, and a stench so strong it can be smelt from across the room. There's a certain script to these kinds of things. I'm supposed to scream and swing the black steel pan in my hand wildly at the intruder, all the while cursing myself for not calling the cops and instead thinking I could take him out on my own. Yep. That is the way that these things are supposed to go.
So when the large shape that is my intruder sucks in a sharp breath of air and unfolds himself from his crouch on the floor, turning his gaze and revealing his face to me, I freeze. The script that I know I'm supposed to follow because that's just the way these things go is suddenly no longer applicable.
He's stunningly beautiful. He looks like he belongs on the cover of any one of the numerous magazines that dedicate themselves to telling us mere mortals what the latest in fashion and trends is, his gorgeous blue eyes cooly aloof and a headline proclaiming him one of the sexiest people alive plastered on the page. Whoever this man is, he certainly doesn't look like he belongs in my apartment, the crisp night air flowing in through the open window and chilling my skin, causing gooseflesh to erupt across my arms. He's tall and muscular and rugged in a way that none of the cute and nerdy men I've dated in the past are. And his eyes. My god those eyes. The kind of color that reminds me of ice but instead are as deep as the ocean and as warm as fire.
Aside from standing straight and turning towards me, he hasn't moved. His gaze has me rooted to the floor and the pan I was planning on using as a makeshift weapon hangs loosely from my hand at my side.
We stare at each other for what seems both like hours and mere seconds, when there's a loud banging on my front door, the sound of a policeman announcing his presence and demanding I open up breaking the deafening silence. I jump, and he tenses, angling his body in a way that indicates he's about to run. Understanding suddenly hits me. This man, whoever he is, is an outlaw.
He looks like he's about to bolt, fly out the window and out of my home in much the same way he'd simply breezed his way in, only the unfortunate creaking of a window as old as I am giving him away. But he doesn't. His eyes lock onto mine again and the message in them is clear.
I think of it as a lapse in judgment, a temporary moment of insanity that I'm perfectly entitled to because I am and always have been a very safe person that generally tends to listen to their common sense and stays out of trouble. Well, the bending of some laws here and there when I'm hacking pushed aside, but I've never been caught so it can't possibly count.
"Hello officer, what seems to be the problem?"
"There have been reports on the sighting of a suspect in the area, have you seen anything unusual?"
Unusual like a gorgeous man breaking his way into my home? Nope, none of that here.
"No officer, I haven't." I've never been that great of a liar. My mother has always been able to see right through me, and anything that I have to lie about has always seemed like too much trouble to keep a secret. I'm definitely out of practice, and the way the policeman's eyes narrow just the slightest amount tell me that he at least suspects that I'm not being entirely honest.
It's a moment of the sheerest and dumbest luck, the kind of moment in life that makes you thank your lucky stars and promise that you'll be a better person by going to church - okay maybe not that one - and donate to charity and help out at a soup kitchen, when a loud clatter and a shriek echo down the hall from Mrs. O'Connell's apartment, and the cop turns towards the disturbance.
"Get inside and lock your door ma'am." I nod vigorously and immediately obey him, not bothering to mention that sweet but forgetful Mrs. O'Connell probably just forgot to close her window again and was spooked by the cat that likes to climb up on her windowsill.
I can hear my heart pounding loudly in my ears, the accelerated beat a telltale of the lie I'd just told. I tell myself that it was just the deep tug in my gut, that in the pit of my stomach I somehow knew that this beautiful stranger poses no threat to me, that what I did by lying - even if I hadn't done all that great a job of it - was the right thing to do. Yes. Just a temporary moment of insanity that I'm most definitely allowed to have.
I take a shaky breath, steeling my nerves, and turn to face him. He's closer than I expected, and suddenly he's surrounding me. I freeze because this, I did definitely not expect. His scent is woodsy and spicy and entirely male. It assaults my nostrils and beckons to me with its blatant sexuality and masculinity. His arms form a cage around me, strong and solid, but I know without really seeming to know why that he's not trapping me. This cage of his promises protection, not confinement.
My nipples harden and my breasts suddenly feel heavy, a heat coils low in my belly. I feel the warmth of his breath on my ear, his muscular chest brushing over mine, sending electricity through the peaks and into my bones and lungs.
"Thank you, please… don't tell anyone I was here."
I nod tentatively, not trusting my voice. I wait for the fear to hit me, for the mental kick at my own stupidity for following my gut instead of my very logical brain. But I don't feel it. All I can feel is the stranger's body pressed against my own and the knowledge that where fear should be is nothing but fascination and maybe even a bit of irrational lust.
Just as suddenly as he was here, he turns and leaves.
Because I'm an entirely normal person - way above average IQ aside - with strong and sane rationalizing capabilities and a habit for making good choices, I of course tell no one of the beautiful stranger that broke into my apartment.
I feel just a little guilty, because I've never really kept anything from Caitlin, but unlike the other night when my brain and my gut fought viciously with each other, both seem to agree right now that this isn't the kind of thing that I can share. It's not easy, not at first, but my life is a busy one and after a couple days I manage to push him and his devastatingly blue eyes to the periphery of my mind. I tell myself it's exactly what I need.
I quickly come to think of those crisp winter nights, the kind where the clouds are heavy with the promise of rain and there's a chill in the air that never fails to make me shiver as the kind of night that suits him.
So I really can't be surprised when on a night exactly like the first one, as I climb the last step on the floor towards my apartment, he's there. The man looks like a damned walking photo shoot. He's sitting on the stairs that lead to the floor above mine, looking for all the world like he could sit there all day and be perfectly content to do so.
His eyes meet mine, his gaze a strange paradox of fierce intensity and quiet control. I can't help but think that those eyes have been the undoing of many a swooning woman, which is really a terrible thing to think when all I can think about is the way the stubble on his cheeks would feel beneath pads of my fingers as I ran them over his face.
I exhale, and feel a weight lift from my shoulders. It feels like I've been waiting for him to come back to me even though I know I never expected to see him again. I take another step forward, fixing my expression to hide the frown of confusion on my face and do my best to ignore the dull roar in my ears caused by the pounding of my heart.
His eyes are hypnotic, and I think for the first time I truly understand the expression of getting lost in someone's eyes, especially when his are the deep blue of a seemingly endless ocean. I know without having to be told that he was waiting for me. There's an electric current in the air, it hums and charges the space between us, that delicious heat of arousal once again blooming in my stomach. His gaze refuses to leave mine, but there's a subtle darkening in them, the azure turning a stunning cobalt, and I think that maybe I'm not the only one that feels this way.
An understanding seems to pass between us. One fueled by blind trust and unmistakable lust. It's silent and powerful and ancient in a way I've never experienced before nor can explain. I break our eye contact, turn and push open the door to my dark apartment, but the spell doesn't break. I step inside and leave the door unclosed, a wordless invitation. His footsteps are too quiet for me to hear, but the heat of his body envelops me as he steps up behind me, the quiet click of the lock breaking the loud silence.
My purse drops with a dull thud to the floor. I don't have the presence of mind to think about hanging it on a rack or placing it on the table near the entrance. I expect to be surrounded by the cage of his arms again, but instead I feel the heavy weight of his hands on my shoulders as he pulls back the jacket I'm wearing. The feel of his calloused fingers on the skin of my neck and shoulders sends shivers racing down my spine. My breath comes in heavy pants, my hands shaking as the jacket falls away and joins my purse on the floor. His mouth, hot and wet, meets the side of my neck in an open kiss that shoots a bolt of lightning straight to my core.
It's forward and sudden and entirely new. I tilt my head back, exposing the column of my throat to his searching lips, and hum when his tongue darts out to taste my skin. He groans, the sound low in his chest and vibrates against my back, and sets the blood in my veins on fire. His hands leave my shoulders, wrapping around my middle and crushing my backside to him, his hips grind into me and I swallow a groan as I feel the hard ridge of his arousal. I twist out of his hold, turn to face him and begin to walk backwards to my bedroom, afraid that if I let him out of my sight he'll disappear.
He follows, his gait unsurprisingly predatory. A hunter stalking his prey, his expression betraying his hunger. I've never felt more desired, never been so aware of my own sexuality.
I flip the light switch when we enter my room, not because I want him to see me, but because I can't stand to have his body or face shrouded from me. I remove my clothes, feeling the flash of heat on my cheeks, and watch him do the same. He's unabashed in his nakedness, his eyes hungrily taking in my body just as mine do his. His skin is marred, burns and scars decorating the skin stretched tight over muscles. There are tattoos with meanings I don't understand and my eyes water to think of the pain he must have suffered.
There is no hesitation in the way he steps forward, his hands cupping my face. We share the same breath, our lips a mere whisper away from each other, and when he leans in and presses his lips to mine, there is fire. There's fire everywhere.
I can't be sure how it happened, I think some part of me remembers it was my doing - but suddenly we're on the bed. I tear my mouth from his and make my way down, taste the deliciously salty flesh at the hollow of his throat, my fingers ghost over his biceps and drag down his chest, catching the tiny nubs of his nipples and tearing a growl from him. My mouth leaves his throat, I press opened mouthed kisses down his chest and across the ridges of his stomach muscles, feel them clench and ripple. I go lower, nip at the skin stretched tight across his hip bones. Without warning I swipe my tongue over the head of his erection, using my hands to keep his hips from moving. He hisses, the sound pure pleasure, but stays still like I need him to. I taste him, take him into my mouth and hollow my cheeks as I suck on his male flesh. His cock is hot and heavy, the taste divine and unlike anything else. I move slowly, press my tongue against the shaft and trace the thick vein on the underside with the tip.
He growls again, louder and more primal, and suddenly he's above me. His lips take mine in a hard kiss, his tongue seeking an entrance I quickly grant. He kisses like what I imagine a god would kiss like, his tongue fighting for dominance with mine even as he tastes the roof of my mouth, flicking across the backs of my teeth and sucking on my lips. He laces his fingers with mine and raises our hands above my head. He grinds his hips against mine, his hardness rubbing against the wet folds of my sex. I spread legs and thrust upwards to meet him. I want him inside me.
Slowly, the movement tender and somewhat out of place in the heated quickness of our encounter, he angels his hips and begins to enter me. My mouth falls open on a gasp and I throw my head back as he sinks inch by glorious inch into me. I contract my internal muscles, relishing in the ache of his large cock stretching and filling my pussy. Just as slowly as he entered me, he begins to move. I groan, my nails digging into the hands still gripping mine.
"Faster," I beg, the precipice of orgasm looming close. His lips clash with mine again, only this time he lets me dominate, taste his tongue in my mouth and nip at his swollen lips. He begins to thrust into me, hard and fast, his hands still tangled with mine above our heads. He shifts a little and enters me at a different angle, his cock rubbing a spot inside me that make sparks erupt behind my eyelids. I come, the orgasm hitting me with little warning, a gasp of pure ecstasy escaping my mouth, caught by his as he groans his pleasure. My walls clamp down hard around him, desperate for his release. He stills above me, his head bowed and resting at the juncture of my neck as he empties himself inside me.
I expect him to leave, to avoid eye contact with me as he makes his way around my bedroom, mumbling about calling me even though he doesn't have my phone number. I definitely don't expect him to push me flat onto my stomach, his body pressed flush against mine and his arms forming that cage of his that definitely shouldn't already feel like home. Much like that first night, his presence surrounds me. It shouldn't feel like home, but it already does.
A/N: So this came with the blessing of the wonderful and ever talented Matty, who wrote the incredible "Strangers In The Night Series" and whose talent and way with words is downright enviable. I'm experimenting a little more with the first person/present tense narrative - as well as writing smut - and I thought this would be a wonderful way for me to expand my horizons as a fanfic writer. There will be three parts to this, expanding a little on "Surround" by Matty. A thanks to Col for being an amazing friend and proofreading this for me. You're the best.