If there's one thing Felicity hasn't missed about being back in the crime fighting business, it's the waiting.
It's the way sometimes on the comms, after a gunshot or a bang or a grunt of pain, there's total silence and she holds her breath on the other end, crossing her fingers and wordlessly, frantically uttering prayers for everyone to be okay.
Alone, that wait is bad enough (even when Oliver assures her, as he always has, that he's all right). But combined with the wait for the team to return to the lair, not to mention Felicity's preoccupation with everything Curtis has said to her about Ray – well, to say it's all a bit too much to handle is an understatement.
So when she hears the ping of the elevator and the faint sound of familiar voices, she all but jumps out of her seat to meet them.
"Everyone okay?" Felicity asks, barely before the elevator doors have opened. Her shoulders sink, though, when she catches sight of Oliver – he's leaning against John for support and she can tell immediately that he's in pain. Thea's got his other arm, and Laurel's holding both of their bows in one hand, her mask in the other.
"I'm fine," he tries, but Felicity just glares at him, stepping back to let them through.
"What happened?"
"Warner stabbed him in the back," John says in explanation, depositing Oliver on Felicity's chair while Thea and Laurel take off their jackets. Laurel places Oliver and Thea's bows in their places. Felicity's at their heels, grabbing the gauze and tape and cotton buds. "It's not that deep, though – I managed to stem the bleeding for the time being and he shouldn't need stitches."
"You should have said," Felicity insists, but as she lowers his hood, Oliver shakes his head.
"Didn't want to worry you," he says quietly. Then he looks up at John, the familiar "give us a minute" expression on his face. John doesn't have to reply – he just nods, making his way to Thea and Laurel where they're putting away the rest of their gear, offering to get Big Belly Burger for the three of them. They murmur in assent, following him out.
Felicity takes advantage of Oliver's momentary silence to fill a bowl of clean water. When she's back by his side, he's taken his mask off. She wets a cotton bud, wiping the sweat on his forehead away. His eyes are closed, but his breathing is a little less shallow, which calms her a bit.
"You okay to stand up?" she asks. He doesn't answer, just unzips his jacket and pulls it off before getting only a little unsteadily to his feet. Without her asking, he turns around, but when she starts cleaning the wound on his lower back, he flinches at her touch.
"Just hold still, all right?" she says softly, her tone more apologetic now that she can feel his muscles tense beneath the palm of her free hand, the one keeping him (and herself) steady.
"I'm okay," Oliver replies instantly. There's silence again. It's not uncomfortable, not really, but somehow Felicity knows he can sense her own terseness. Sure enough, seconds later, he says, "Are you?"
And Felicity can't quite bring herself to answer – at his words, she feels a lump form in her throat. She busies herself with cutting some gauze, then some tape, and all the while as she works, she doesn't say a word. Only when she's done does she finally say in a choked voice, "All done."
No sooner have the words left her mouth does Oliver turn round to face her, and the concern she can see in his eyes makes something in her crumble. Felicity makes to turn away but then, unexpectedly, he reaches up and takes off her glasses. Somehow, that now familiar gesture comforts her. Then he lifts his hands to her face so they're cradling her cheeks, and she closes her eyes, calmed by the way his thumbs trace down her jaw.
"What do you want to do about Lance?" he asks, and Felicity isn't even able to hide her sigh of relief at the change of subject. She doesn't answer straightaway, instead steering him back to her chair and sitting him down before moving to stand between his legs.
"It's your call," she says once she's found her voice again, and she surprises herself with how steady it seems. "I... know things haven't been easy with him, ever since he found out who you were. But that doesn't mean it has always to be like that. I mean, who knows. Maybe if we team up with him, properly, he can find out more about Darhk. And about Hive."
"So you want me to use him?" Oliver says. Felicity shakes her head.
"No. I think we should work with him. Without secrets, without lies this time. It's not like he hasn't explained why he's working for Darhk to you already," Felicity reasons. "Right? And it's not like Lance is the bad guy."
"You seem so sure."
For the first time, Felicity smiles. Impulsively, she bends her knees a little, kisses his forehead. "You know why?"
"Why?" he says, his hand finding her wrist.
"Because you wouldn't want his approval nearly as much if you thought he wasn't a good person." And for some reason, that makes Oliver chuckle. "What?"
"Nothing. Just... sometimes it still amazes me that you know me so well."
She smiles back. "You're not exactly subtle, Oliver. It's kind of easy for me to know what you're thinking."
But at her words, his smile fades ever so slightly. "I wish I could say the same for you right now."
"Oliver…" she begins to say, catching his hand in hers so their fingers twine together. It helps, feeling the rough warmth of his calloused fingertips as he squeezes her hand back. Still, it's impossible for Felicity to ignore the hesitation in his voice when he finally speaks.
"Did I... is this about us?" he asks.
"No," she says quickly, almost before he's finished speaking. "I promise... you and me – is pretty much what's keeping me together right now. It's not that."
She bites her lip, but then again, unexpectedly, she feels his lips on hers. "Okay."
"Okay?" she repeats, unable to keep all the disbelief out of her voice.
His forehead is still leaning against hers, so she feels the flutter of his lashes against her skin.
"Felicity, whatever is going on with you... if you don't want to talk about it, I'm the last person to push you," he says. "But – once you figure things out, I'll still be here. If you want."
And all Felicity can do is gaze down at him in wonder, letting out a sigh of contentment. "Thank you," she says gratefully, and she climbs onto his lap, watching his expression carefully for any signs of pain. He just smiles back, though, and she rewards him with a kiss.
"Love you," he whispers into her mouth. And before she can say anything in reply, Oliver teases her lips apart, his hand skimming over the curve of her hip and pulling her closer to him. She rocks her hips against him as her tongue slides into his mouth and he groans; in that moment, it's like all her worries disappear and all that matters is Oliver, beneath her, at the mercy of her every touch. She moves back a bit. Her fingers dance over the Chinese characters that run down one side of his abdomen. Even now – especially now – she can't help but delight at how his muscles contract sharply as her hand moves further down, below his navel, her knuckles brushing ever so lightly against his hard-on through leather.
"You okay?" she asks quietly, feathering another kiss on his lips, nose bumping gently against his. "I'm not… hurting you or anything?"
Oliver shakes his head. "Just a – flesh wound," he manages to say, and that's her cue – her hand still firmly between his thighs, Felicity presses down harder, making him gasp and hiss her name.
"Tell me to stop if you want," she whispers (but her words are tinged with just a little bit of playfulness now, because as much as she's lost in the fiery heat of arousal in Oliver's eyes, in the thumping of his heartbeat against her breasts, in the throbbing erection she can feel under her palm, she also knows how to tease him, bring him to the very edge of the precipice through mere words).
"Don't stop," Oliver says breathlessly. She just smiles back, though, lightening her touch her so slightly. And when seconds later she gets up, off his lap, and over to the computers a few feet away, she doesn't have to look at him to hear the unsatiated lust in his moan as he tries to get to his feet.
"Stay there," she orders.
"Felicity..." he begins to say, but he halts when – after a final tap on the keyboard – there's a beep as the lair goes on lockdown. "Wait – did you just –"
"Computer override the lock?" she says, making her way back to him. "Maybe. Just so, you know, no one can walk in on us while we –"
He interrupts her with a kiss, tugging at the front of her shirt, his legs parted so she is directly between them once more. He kisses her hungrily, heatedly, his tongue insistent, and when she pulls away once more – her breasts still firmly against his torso – he lets out a growl of frustration that she can feel deep in his chest. She just laughs, though, slipping her fingers inside the waistband of his pants. He leans back a little, his hands covering hers, helping her free the hardness that is straining against the dark green leather.
Pressing another kiss on his lips, Felicity closes one hand around his cock, loving how he arches right into her and swears softly into her mouth. She kicks off her heels, biting down on his lower lip, and they land unceremoniously with two loud thumps several feet away.
Then she drops to her knees and – without warning – takes him in her mouth.
He's never lasted very long when she goes down on him. Even if they hadn't been together for months she would be able to tell, from the way his hand fists into her hair beneath her ponytail. She moves her mouth gently up his length and back down, her tongue lapping up the familiar taste of him.
Reaching up she finds his free hand and grasps it, letting him thrust into her mouth, and this time they both gasp as the tip of his cock touches the back of her throat. And after that it doesn't take very long – the trembling she feels in his thigh as it presses against her shoulder, the way his fingers lace with hers even tighter and her name spills out of his mouth, pleading for release tells her he's close, really close now. Oliver's hips jerk forward as he comes into her mouth – Felicity sucks down, swallowing the warmth of his pleasure willingly. And there's something about the tangy aftertaste in the back of her throat that sends a wet rush of arousal – white-hot – in her groin that makes her groan softly as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
Her knees are aching too, though, and it's with relief that she lets Oliver tug her to her feet once more. Leaning down a little she helps him pull up his pants before climbing onto his lap again, and when she meets his eyes, there's that familiar almost lazy smile on his lips, the one he always has in the very aftermath of his climax. She can't help but kiss him, chastely, on the mouth, just as his hand slides under her shirt, palm skirting along her hipbone, his other hand travelling down between her legs.
It's only now she realises how wet she is, to the point that there's a warm damp patch on her pants where Oliver's touching her. She unbuttons her pants, undoing the zip. Almost immediately, Oliver reaches forward, but Felicity shakes her head.
"You're hurt," she says, pressing a kiss on his temple. "Let me."
And before Oliver has a chance to object, she's slipping two of her fingers into her opening and sighing contentedly.
Without warning, though, Oliver grabs her wrist and brings her hand to his mouth, kissing her fingers and then sucking on each one. Somehow that only heightens her arousal more, and when he releases her hand it goes slowly back to her entrance. He watches her wordlessly, landing a kiss on her neck just as she pushes her finger inside once more.
"Aaah," she says, biting down on her lip as she feels inside her walls, her fingers coated in her own essence. She can feel Oliver's eyes on her, undressing her, wanting desperately to touch her but knowing she won't let him. She loves that – loves the hold she has over him even when it concerns her own pleasure.
And then Oliver obviously can't take it anymore – he kisses her again, and it's clumsy and messy and wet but none of that deters her; if anything it turns her on even more. His hand moves down to grasp her wrist once more, making her fingers go deeper inside herself, and she pants into his mouth before burying herself into his neck. Her lips form the words I love you onto his thumping Adam's Apple, his stubble grazing her cheek as she does so.
But then he lifts her face to his, his lips only inches away. I want to see you come, he says with his burning grey eyes. And it's impossible now for Felicity to blink, not when Oliver's gazing at her like she is his everything and Felicity feels like her heart is fit to burst with her love for him. She presses her lips together, tries to stifle the sound of her orgasm but it's too much effort – as her fingers encircle her favourite spot inside herself the sexual heat between them explodes and she collapses in a warm heap on top of him, her groin still throbbing pleasurably.
One side of her face is squashed into his bare shoulder, and it takes a few moments for her to get her breath back. "Feeling better?" Oliver asks unnecessarily.
He's not really expecting an answer. That much she can tell. She just smiles, withdrawing her hand from between her legs. Oliver snatches it up, kisses her knuckles, before pressing his nose against her fingertips and inhaling her scent.
Felicity tilts her head to one side, watching him, grateful for the slight slowing of her heartbeat now the final vestiges of her orgasm are starting to wear off. "You always make me feel better," she says at last, and when he looks up at her, any semblance of self-control she has left is gone – she kisses him with everything she has, taking him by surprise, and when finally they come up for air Oliver is more than a little breathless.
"What was that for?" he asks, still stroking her hair until his hand settles on her shoulder.
"Just... I love you, Oliver. So much."
He smiles, runs his forefinger down her cheek. "I love you too. Always will."