Our Night

By Bre (dust2dust34)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.
Rating: Explicit
Author's Notes: This is too exciting to go into the Heartbeats collection, so alone it shall stand. Hope you like my take on how I think Season Three should end. This all came about after Nikki (CSM) made a suggestion, and then Melissa (dettiot) said she was writing her version, so I claimed the smutty version. :) So this is for those two crazy ladies.

Summary 3x23 spec fic, based on the pictures that a lovely gentleman by the name of Andy tweeted today! Involving a Porsche. And a sunset.

Oliver shifted gears, the engine catching without a hitch, smoothly carrying them along the coast. They had left barely an hour ago and he already felt like they were a world away, like the last year hadn't happened, like the last several years hadn't happened. The last three days had simultaneously been some of the worst of his entire life - and considering the list he had etched on his soul, that was saying something - and some of the best.

The best.

A small hand covered his, her fingers pressing between his, moving with him as he shifted.

The sun was setting over the water, casting the world in a dusky orange that made the world look like it was on fire. Sparks caught from the ocean, highlighting the long open road before them, highlighting her hair whipping in the warm wind… and highlighting the simple silver band on her left ring finger.

Oliver glanced down at her hand as he shifted, before twisting so his fingers caught the simple jewelry. He saw her turn towards him out the corner of his eye, looking down at their joined hands. She squeezed his fingers in hers, and his chest constricted, his heart leaping into his throat as he thought about how they had gotten there.

Roy.

Thea.

Ra's.

The League.

Learning Sara was alive.

Tatsu's timely appearance to pull Maseo back from the ledge when he'd been about to do Ra's bidding to take Oliver's life when he'd betrayed his calling.

And Felicity…

His Felicity.

Everything in his life had been leading to this moment. From that simple glimpse when he'd been in Starling City all those years ago, to coming to her with that bullet-riddled laptop, to her gentle push about trust when she'd shown him the notebook, to his trusting her right back with the Arrow, to the years they spent learning all they could about each other, challenging each other, pushing away and then pulling close and then pushing away again - they went from acquaintances, to friends, to partners, to… love.

To marriage.

Of course, the marriage had been part of the ritual required for him to take his place as Al-Sahim, but it counted.

It counted.

Because the minute she said, "I love you," everything bleak in his world - all the shadows, all the darkness, all the lies and deceit and loneliness and pain and anger and hate… it evaporated in the face of her light, the light she brought into his world, the light that left nothing behind to cast shadows.

She was his salvation.

His everything.

He would have been more than happy with the single night they had taken for themselves, when she'd shown up in his rooms, there as a friend; she'd wanted so much more, but that wall was still between them, the one Oliver had erected the night Vertigo attacked them on their ill-fated date.

But when she'd sat down, when she'd given him a soft, warm smile, her eyes saying everything that couldn't be verbalized about the literal hell they had been through since they'd gotten to Nanda Parbat… that wall had disappeared.

Because it was now or never, and he would be damned if he wasn't going to have one thing that was his.

A few hours later, she'd called it his, "Oliver Epiphany," like someone had walked over and thunked him on the head with a stick.

"I saw it your eyes," she whispered, dragging her finger down the side of his face where they laid on the floor, covered in red satin sheets, the dying embers of the fire behind him still heating the air around them. "You were you. You let yourself be you. Just you."

He'd been speechless, and the only thing he'd been able to do was kiss her. And kiss her again. And love her, show her how much he loved her, how much he needed her, how much had needed her, and how insanely grateful he was that she was there, with him, how insanely lucky he was.

And then everything else happened and…

"You've got that sappy grin on your face again," she said, her voice raised to be heard over the wind rushing past them.

"It is not sappy," Oliver said, rolling his eyes, but the stupid sappy grin grew and she giggled. She giggled, and it was the most amazing thing he'd ever heard. "I'm too macho to be sappy."

Felicity laughed, turning in her seat to face him. She wrapped her hands around his arm as he shifted again, and he glanced over at her, momentarily mesmerized by the sun casting her in such a glow… but it wasn't the sun, really; it was her.

"Did you just say the word 'macho'?" she asked, tapping his arm with a nail. "I think hell has frozen over because Oliver Queen just said the word macho. In an actual sentence. About himself."

Oliver wanted to have a witty comeback. He wanted to banter with her, he wanted to open himself up to the warm bubble they had lived in for those few precious months so long ago, when it had been okay to be Oliver Queen and the Arrow, when he thought that living his lives separately was doable… he'd been a fucking idiot.

And this woman had known that.

And she had still chosen to stand by him, waiting, so patiently…

Oliver stared at her, his eyes dancing over her beautiful face, her luscious lips that he knew intimately now, her pert nose, her expressive eyes… she was watching him with a wistful look, like she almost didn't believe this was real either.

A light sheen of tears shimmered before she blinked, shaking her head to dispel them.

He knew they were happy tears.

Tears of disbelief.

Tears of joy.

Tears to mourn the sad tears she had cried over the last several days.

They were celebratory tears.

The smile she gave him took his breath away.

"Pay attention to the road, Oliver," she chastised, nodding to the world outside their bubble.

He grinned at her, shifting without looking, taking another moment to stare at her before he did look back at the road. He knew his way around a stick shift, and he'd driven this highway so many times before the island, he had it memorized. But she didn't know that. Not yet, at least; they had the rest of their lives to learn about each other now, their lives before, their lives during.

Which side of the bed she preferred. What kind of toothpaste she liked. If she didn't mind his shoes piling up by the door, or his weird habit of leaving spoons everywhere after using them. If he would be annoyed because she left flour all over the counter, or if she would be annoyed because he rarely drank out of a glass when he could get the same thing right out of the carton. Or maybe she drank out of the carton too. Maybe she left her coffee cups everywhere, maybe she didn't use coasters and there were coffee rings all over her furniture.

They had so much to learn, and he couldn't wait.

The sun was low enough that they didn't need their sunglasses, but light enough that everything was still lit up. It was gorgeous.

He never thought he'd get to see another sunset like this.

He never thought he'd get to drive a car again.

He never thought he'd find the love of his life in the spitfire of a woman in a cubicle in his family's company, that she would become the most important thing in his life, the guiding force, that she would just have to touch him to remind him of all the reasons why he did what he did, or the reasons why he needed to find his path again.

She sighed, adjusting again, and Oliver glanced over. Her hand still covered his, the sunlight glinting off her wedding ring. His eyes followed the line of her arm up to the wispy white sundress she wore, the one with very thin straps that were blowing with the wind, letting him see that she was most definitely not wearing anything underneath it. She shifted, her legs turning towards him, the dress riding up her curvaceous thighs.

The edge got caught in the wind and her dress blew up, letting him see she was wearing tiny white lace panties that looked delicious against her soft porcelain skin.

"Oliver, if you don't stop looking at me like that, you will suddenly be having a very hard time shifting," Felicity said, her eyes still closed.

Oliver's response was to slowly drag his eyes up her luscious body, barely glancing at the road as he shifted, to see her turning to look at him.

"Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all as he gave her small, knowing smile and she blushed, ducking her head, and his smile turned into a grin, a grin that felt like it was going to break his face in two.

God, he loved her.

"Stop it," she said. She waved to the road. "This car is too pretty to make out with scary ocean rocks, Mr. Queen."

Oliver's breath hitched at the sound of his name, his body tightening.

How many times had he heard her whisper those words in his dreams, or watched her lips when she said them, or wondered how she could make his name - a name he had only worn as a mask since he'd come back from the island - sound so damned erotic?

Ever since he'd promoted her to his EA when he got back from Lian Yu.

Ever since she'd caught herself saying it one too many times, blushing when she realized it, and he'd realized she might like saying it too.

And now she was a Queen.

She was his.

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Queen," Oliver said as he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her ring.

He looked over at her, long enough to glimpse her hooded eyes fixated on his lips, her tiny quick inhale, her tongue darting out before she bit her bottom lip, all in the space of a few seconds.

A whip of need and desire shot through him swiftly at the sight, his mind jumping to what those lips tasted like, to the breathy moans she gave him when he kissed nipped at her lower lip, to the wicked grin she'd given him when he said he'd always been fond of her lipstick, because it made him think about the way her lips would look…

"Oh."

And after that conversation just that morning, she'd put on pink lipstick and wrapped her bright pink lips around his cock.

Oliver squeezed her hand tightly, his breath becoming shallow as his pants got too tight, and his eyes met hers. Her pupils were blown, her eyes whiskey-colored in the setting sun.

She licked her lips, and swallowed, and he snapped.

Oliver dropped her hand, eyes flying back to the road as he dropped gears, steering the Porsche onto the opposite side of the road. Felicity let out a little yelp as they hit the edge of the asphalt before it turned into rocky dirt, and he steered them down a small alcove that turned into a tiny peninsula surrounded by large boulders; they blocked the view from the highway, but left a clear view of the ocean, and the sunset that was slowly slipping into dusk.

"Did you know this was here?" Felicity asked as he slipped the car into neutral and yanked on the parking brake, shutting the car off.

He unclicked his seatbelt as he said, "Yep."

"Yep?" Felicity replied sarcastically. "That's it, that's all I get is a-" Oliver cut her off, reaching over and unbuckling her seatbelt. His large hands encircled her waist and lifted her up. "Oliver, there isn't enough room!"

"We'll make enough room," he said, his voice low with desire. He lifted her into his lap, and she made a strangled noise when her leg got caught on the parking brake, but he only had eyes for the strap that had slipped off her shoulder, falling all the way down her arm, leaving her one breast nearly exposed.

"Oliver," she gasped again, but he just sat back in his seat, enough room for her to straddle him, but not enough for her warm heat to touch him where he needed it most. She squirmed and he looked up at her from under heavy eyelids, his hands gripping her waist.

She looked down at him, hair wild from the wind, the same need coursing through his veins reflecting back at him. His hands tightened around her waist, and he felt her deep inhale. He slid one hand up, lightly brushing over her hardening nipple where he pulled her dress down the rest of the way, exposing the beautiful mound.

Her nipples were a dark pink when she was fully aroused, and they could get a nice dusky red after many, many minutes of teasing, which he'd learned when he'd spent his sweet time on them their first night. Her nipple was already bunched, gorgeous in the setting sun, casting a lean shadow. Oliver leaned forward and took the peak into his mouth, and she shuddered, her hands gripping his head, holding him closer to her.

"Oliver," she whispered, and he looked up at her. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed; she looked positively angelic in the sun, a lazy haze of clouds in the sky, the ocean behind her… He swirled his tongue around her. The guttural moan that slipped out making his cock ache inside his jeans and he hummed, the vibrations shooting through her tender flesh. Felicity jerked against his mouth, her nails digging into his scalp.

Oliver wondered what in the hell had possessed him to choose this fucking car, it was too damn small, he realized, as he arched up towards her, and they barely grazed each other. The thought of the lace panties waiting for him there, covering her wet sex, her juices starting to pool, all for him, made him suck on her harder, and she keened.

Felicity apparently had the same thought.

She blindly reached behind her, her hand fumbling along the door before she found the handle, and she wrenched it open just enough to give her room to sink right into his lap. They both hissed when her heat rubbed right against his waiting cock and he let her nipple go with a soft 'pop' as he settled back in his seat to look at her, her hips moving lazily against the hard seam of his jeans.

Where before she'd looked like an angel, now she looked like a naughty nymph as she used his shoulders to push away from him, their eyes locked. Windblown hair, soft, well-used lips, stubble burns around her mouth that only made his cock harder, her dress half-off, one breast glowing in the sunlight, and a wanton look in her eye that made his stomach clench with anticipation.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, reaching up to cup her cheek and she smiled at him, a smile of pure, unadulterated bliss.

Oliver yanked her down, their lips crashing together. She immediately opened for him, her hands sliding down his chest and down to his pants. Oliver arched up to help her, keeping her face to his as he tasted her:

She was warmth, sunlight incarnate; home.

Felicity had his jeans undone and she yanked them down as much as she could before pulling back, panting heavily. "Oliver, jeans, really? On our honeymoon?"

Oliver laughed, a laugh that came from deep in his chest, and she grinned at the sound as he pushed himself up, reaching between her legs to shove them down his hips just enough for her to pull his cock free. He gasped, his mouth falling open as she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking him.

He groaned when she licked her lips, her eyes darkening as she remembered their morning too, and then she ran her fingers over the head.

With a growl, Oliver pulled her against his chest, one hand reaching for the back of her neck to anchor her to him while the other slid down her lithe body, slipping under the sundress and between her legs.

He kissed her, pouring every ounce of passion and love and desire and happiness that he was feeling into it as his fingers slid against those sexy lace panties, her desire for him already evident. She mewled against his mouth as she thrust into his touch, returning his kiss with equal fervor.

He gasped when his cock slid across her silky inner thigh, and he couldn't wait any longer. Oliver ripped her panties down the center and she broke from his kiss with a gasp.

"Oliver…"

"I'll buy you a hundred more," he whispered harshly, his lips right up against hers before he kissed her again. Her lips became more demanding as his fingers slid through her heat; she was already wet and ready for him, puffy and aroused and she felt so damn good.

"Please," she whispered between kisses and he flicked her clit, and she whimpered, grounding down on him.

Oliver lifted her dress out of the way, sliding his hands down to her hips as he sat back, his eyes falling down to where tattered lace framed her gorgeous sex, downy hair glistening with her juices in the fading sun. She leaned back for him, her head falling backwards as she arched her chest, her skin glowing against the white material of her dress, and his eyes followed the smooth, curvy lines of her body.

Her body, that was all his, just like she was all his.

He had dreamed about his, wanted it, needed it, and now she was his, mind, body and soul.

And she loved him.

His wife loved him.

With a strangled moan, Oliver lifted her up more and gripped his cock, his grip tightening as pleasure swamped through him. He watched the thick head slip and slide through her juices, watching them already coating him, before he pressed it home.

"Aaahhhh," she moaned.

Oliver pulled her down, and he slid deep into her, so perfectly and with such ease that his eyes squeezed shut at the sensations bombarding him.

He'd been with so many women in his lifetime; he'd had so many different bodies, tasted so many people… but they all paled in comparison to the feel of Felicity in his arms, surrounding him, cradling him, taking him inside her, trusting him with such a precious gift.

Her lips grazed against his temple, her short pants tickling his ear as she started moving in shallow thrusts, making him grit his teeth.

They rocked against each other, Oliver's hands gripping her hips to keep her as close as possible while she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her lips to the crown of his head. The Porsche swayed underneath them. The sun slowly set, the perfect backdrop to the first day of being a married couple, of being in love, of being free to express that love.

"Oliver," Felicity gasped, and he felt the fine tremble in her body, her hips starting to move more urgently as she gripped him tighter. Those breathy moans that turned his world inside out echoed in his ear as she sought her release, riding him; Oliver dug his fingers into hips and pulled her down harder, making her yelp and then he ground her clit against his pubic bone as he arched his back, thrusting up into her short, sharp thrusts.

"Oohhh," she moaned. She dug her nails into his neck, her trembling growing more violent as he rubbed her harder against him.

He felt the tingle in the base of his spine, felt every inch of him starting to tighten with white hot pleasure and he shoved his face against her chest, thrusting up harder as they simultaneously pushed her higher.

"Felicity," Oliver groaned. "Felicity, Feli… city…"

Oliver turned his head, just enough so her nipple was right there, and he latched onto it, his lips wrapping around it tightly. His tongue rapidly flicked across the hard nubbin, and Felicity cried out loudly before she stiffened.

She yelped his name, her orgasm rocketing through her. Her walls rippled around his cock, pushing him over the edge and he thrust wildly into her, the car rocking with him before he came. Oliver spilled into her with a visceral shout; his orgasm felt like it lasted forever as her body milked him completely of every last ounce of pleasure.

They didn't move for a very long while.

Felicity's leg hung outside the open car door, her foot dusting the ground; Oliver's arms were wrapped loosely around her waist, cradling her hips, keeping her pressed as close as possible to him, wanting to stay inside her as long as he could.

If he had any say in the matter, he would never leave her tight warmth.

Felicity hummed, lifting her head and Oliver turned to face her. She pressed her forehead to his, her glasses fogging slightly when her lips brushed his.

"I love you, Oliver Jonas Queen," she whispered, brushing her nose against his, and he smiled.

He smiled, a real smile. A smile that was going to be around much more often, a smile that would be around for many, many more years…

"I love you too, Felicity Meghan Queen," he said just as softly before he kissed his wife in the setting sun.

The End

Reviews literally feed my soul and muse.