Chapter 1- Oliver

Oliver Queen stepped into his apartment with a sigh; it had been another long hard day, and was looking to be a long hard night. He needed some fun for once. Oliver had been spending far too much time working and not enough enjoying his youth. He caught his own reflection in the plate glass window and frowned. He was getting old before his time. He was only 26, why did he feel 56?

Because he'd let the greatest thing in his life walk away. He was an idiot. Even to the day Oliver would never forgive himself for letting her slip out of his life. He sunk into his desk chair with another sigh. It was easy to picture her there, sitting on the edge of his desk, eating a hamburger while he told her how bad it was for her.

She was beautiful, far more beautiful than any woman that smart should be. Her hazel eyes alight with mischief and humour as she teased him about yoga again. Oliver couldn't help but watch her lips, her full, luscious lips as she ate her burger. A dollop of ketchup dripped down her chin and he grabbed her wrist before she had the chance to wipe it away. He smirked at her, rising up in his chair to nibble and kiss the ketchup away. In truth he wanted to taste her skin, feel how soft it was. Just one taste was enough to have him kissing along her jaw, down her neck. He was eager to hear the sound of her soft, yielding moan.

"C'mon Miss Lane…" He whispered, sweeping her into his arms as he stood. Oliver continued to feast on her as he carried her away to bed.

In an instant the apparition was gone. And Oliver was alone, at his desk. Well, not totally alone. He groaned as he looked down. "Jesus…." He mumbled, sick of finding his…. arrow… loaded and ready for action at every thought of Lois Lane. If he wasn't able to break the habit, he'd find himself in trouble. Since his return to Metropolis, he'd been invited to many events and was expected to attend. Oliver knew that eventually Lois would be at one of them. He knew of her success at the Daily Planet and how fast she was rising through the ranks of the bullpen. Her position would no doubt be responsible for her landing the same invitations he received. Oliver had a feeling that would be sooner rather than later.

His premonition had been right.

At the last minute, Oliver had agreed to attend a yacht party hosted by Xavier Charles Winston the Third—a former classmate from Excelsior Academy. The best of the best where there, the hottest celebrities and the most esteemed members of the media, including one Lois Lane.

He wanted to march right up to her and plant a kiss on those lips; those lips that happened to be nibbling on the edge of a wine glass in the most subtlety-sexy way. But he could barely look at her without feeling his stomach muscles grow tighter- and his linen pants certainly wouldn't help hide anything. Oliver emptied his wine glass and excused himself from the company of others, glancing back at Lois.

She really did look more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was shorter, but still long enough to be swept up into a loose bun. And she looked more toned, and stronger. Maybe she'd been keeping up with the yoga. Ollie scoffed at the idea, dismissing it immediately. Lois seemed to have a very alluring glow about her, her skin was a healthy radiant tan next to her white dress. Oliver couldn't quite put his finger on why she seemed to have an aura around her, something so different. He chalked it up to the fact that he didn't have her, and couldn't have her—but wanted her.

Oliver wanted her now more than he had ever wanted her. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and carry her to some secluded cabin below deck where he could make love to her until neither of them could move. He groaned. His situation hadn't improved, and he needed out of it. Oliver rushed off the deck and into the nearest doorway he could find.

He realized he was on the bridge, and he was alone. Perfect. The lights were out and he knew there was little chance of anyone interrupting him. He took a deep breath, leaning his back against the door as a barrier, just in case. Oliver felt horrible, was he really going to do this, here and now? If he didn't he wouldn't be able to even talk to Lois without embarrassment. Besides, he was a grown man, and there was nothing wrong about it. He'd seen the love of his life, looking incredible and couldn't have her.

So he took matters into his own hands—literally. Oliver imagined his hands were hers, it wasn't hard to remember the way she'd touched him, the way her lips felt around him. The image of Lois wasn't aiding the situation. He'd never get over his problem if he continued to picture her there, lips humming around him as pleasure shot though him like electricity.

He had to imagine it was someone else. It took him a while to think of someone. He finally forced himself to imagine Chloe. She was beautiful and playful—certainly the type of woman Oliver would have had for a lover, before Lois. He tried to picture that little blonde head bobbing happily as she pleasured him. It was useless.

The blonde transformed before his eyes to that gorgeous auburn, and his fingers were wrapped in it—holding on for dear life as he came. His knees buckled and he thought he might end up on the floor, but managed to steady himself. He sighed as he looked down, nothing there but his own hands. How would he ever get over her if the only woman he could picture was Lois.

"Sorry Chlo…" he muttered.

After a minute of regaining some composure, Oliver made his way back onto the deck and into the midst of the party. Lois wasn't where he'd seen her before. So he snatched another glass of wine of a waiter's tray and took a sip for courage as he started his search.

It didn't take him long. Oliver could hear her voice—raised over most others. She was arguing with someone. Oliver peered around the corner to see Lois standing face to face with Clark Kent. He should have known Clark would be around, he was afterall Lois' partner and Superman. Superman had a tendency to show up at these events, because something always happened and he was needed.

Oliver had been avoiding Clark at any Justice League meetings and just in general. He was man enough to admit he was jealous of Superman stealing all his thunder. The Green Arrow had been first, and now Superdork over there was getting all the attention. Metropolis wasn't big enough for two heroes.

He would have to put that aside, and eventually get over it. But for now he was trying to figure out what Lois and Clark were bickering about this time. It wasn't unusual for the pair to have disagreements, about everything. Lois and Clark were just two totally different people and their personalities clashed. 'At least I'd never have to worry about Clark as competition for Lois.' Ollie thought to himself with a chuckle.

They would never be a couple, they'd constantly be arguing about everything. Oliver creased his brow, straining to listen to their conversation.

"Clark… would you let it go… he's not a threat." Lois snapped. Clark cupped his hand over her shoulder.

"I'm trying not to let it bother me… but I find it difficult. No one knows." He replied, looking vexed.

Lois pushed his hand away. "Don't… just let it go for now… we'll deal with it when and if a problem arises…." She explained.

They must have been discussing a story, maybe they had a good scoop on someone at the party and were trying to ferret out the truth. Oliver had read their stories, and despite their attitudes towards each other they made an exceptional team, no one was better than Lane and Kent.

"Okay…" Clark sighed and paused, looking down at her. "We'll talk about this later. I'm getting some punch, would you like some?" He asked, always the gentleman.

"Yeah… spike mine, will ya, Smallville?" She asked after him, smirking at his back.

This was the time for Oliver to pounce. He straightened the front of his shirt and gulped the contents of his glass. They didn't call the stuff liquid courage for nothing. He stepped through the crowds and came up behind Lois.

In keeping with the theme of being gentlemanly, he kept his eyes on the back of her head as he tapped her on the shoulder. "Well if it isn't the next Pulitzer Prize winner…"

Lois whirled around, her hazel eyes growing huge at the sight of him. She stumbled back a little, needing to create some distance from him. "Umm… Oliver…" She stammered, helpless to find the right words. "What are you doing here?" Lois instantly knew it was a stupid question. Of course he would have been invited—the hottest billionaire in town, why wouldn't he?

"I mean… Hi…" She corrected, straightening her shoulders as she extended a hand to him.

Oliver wasn't sure what to do with it at first. He stared at her extended hand before giving it a shake. "Hi… You, uh… you look lovely." He replied, pausing with her warm hand in his. Oliver quickly released it.

Lois wasn't going to blush. She wouldn't allow it. Her back stiffened and she thrust her chin out confidently. "Thanks… I already knew that…" She told him.

Before Ollie could open his mouth to say another word, Clark materialized behind Lois with a drink in each hand. He smiled at Oliver. "Hey Ollie… haven't seen you in a while…" Clark handed Lois her punch, he'd made sure it wasn't spiked, the last thing anyone needed was a drunk Lois Lane running around. "Here Lo-" he paused, "is."

"Hi Kent…" Oliver mumbled, annoyed that he had ruined his chance to talk to Lois. Deciding on ignoring Clark's presence, he took Lois' hand. "Would you like to dance?" He asked boldly.

Lois looked between them and up at Clark, her eyes screaming "Help me out here…" She didn't want to dance with Oliver, she didn't want to see Oliver, or talk to him. It was still too hard. At one time she'd thought he was the only person she'd love the way she had. He was the first man she could say that about.

"Umm… Lois, can we talk for a minute… about… a story… yeah.. can we talk about a story?" Clark interrupted, taking Lois by the wrist.

Oliver folded his arms over his chest as they walked around the corner. If Superidiot hadn't shown up, he might have had a chance.