A/N: Chapter rated M for sexy times. I wrote this before the season premiere so some things discussed don't line up with canon but I decided to leave it in anyway. I hope no one minds reading a fic set during the summer while the show airs because that's apparently how I roll these days. Oh well! Once again, thank you so much for reading. Cookies for all! :D


Early Saturday the buzz of an alarm breaks the morning quiet. It hums and skitters across the bedside table with every beep, and Felicity reaches for her phone with a couple of blind pats, groaning into her pillow. She jabs senselessly at the screen and the buttons for good measure, mumbling "Uuuuugh finally!" as the noise eventually stops.

Peace at last.

The distant roll of the Pacific Ocean sifts back in slowly, along with the eerie tranquil of the woods and mountains surrounding their cliff-top hotel.

She's awake now though, reluctantly, so she shuffles upright against the headboard and stretches for her glasses, yawning and blinking all the while. It's strange because she doesn't remember setting an alarm last night and it doesn't seem like something Oliver would do. The guy is pathologically late for everything.

Grinning sleepily at the thought, Felicity's gaze falls on the other side of the bed and she startles at the emptiness, runs her hand over the wide wrinkled space. Cold. Probably has been for a while. There's a flutter of panic that hikes up her spine and swoops low in her chest and it bothers her more than it should—the niggle of doubt. She knows he wouldn't leave, not now, but maybe a tiny part of her faith in him is yet to fall back into place after everything that's happened.

She's—they're—working on it.

Still, she can't help but wonder where he is, flipping her phone a few times while she considers whether it's appropriately concerned or too clingy girlfriend to send him a text but she forgets all about that as soon as she checks the screen again, her heart sinking at the alarm paused there.

An alarm for Oliver's birthday. His 30th birthday.

"Felicity," she says, out loud, head rolling back with a thud. "You're the worst."

"No, you're not."

Shrieking at the unexpected sound of Oliver's voice, Felicity blindly throws his pillow as some kind of half-assed method of defense, too startled to be impressed that it hits him square in the face.

"I yelped!" she squeaks, and Oliver just grins at her, blissfully amused as he looks between her and the pillow at his feet and back again.

"You really did," he says. "It was loud, too."

Her shoulders sag in relief but Felicity rolls her eyes at herself and the sight of him standing by the door shirtless and sweaty as he glugs water from a bottle because of course.

"Apparently yelping is a thing I do now," she says, sliding from the bed, pulse still thundering in her throat and ears. "And I know you're a ninja but try to make some noise when you come into a room. I just aged, Oliver. Aged."

"I'll try my best," he promises, trying to be serious and failing, the smile settling deep in his eyes.

His chest hitches with every breath and Felicity eyes the bead of sweat drawing a path down the contraction of his abdomen, biting her lip as it bleeds into the waistband of his sweatpants and really, she needs to get a grip. Not on that. Well, yes on that at some point. Soon hopefully. But the view is nothing new. She's had her hands there and everything.

"Where did you go?" she asks, even though it's unnecessary in the face of all his sweaty breathless glory.

Really, his muscles are glistening and taut. It's pretty fantastic.

"Just for a run. There's a great hiking trail around the resort." He pulls at the t-shirt hooked into his waistband, uses it to towel his face. "I get restless if I don't work out every day. Or maybe it's just habit at this point."

"It's probably both," she says, watching him nod and shrug in agreement. "Maybe next time leave a note?"

The pitch of her voice must betray her worries because Oliver pauses in toeing off his sneakers, gaze alert suddenly. "Sorry. I thought I'd be back before you woke up. I'll remember for next time."

"That's okay," she says hurriedly, twisting her hands into the hem of the t-shirt she's wearing. His t-shirt. "I don't mean to sound clingy or anything. I just."

She shrugs, not sure what to say without hurting his feelings and she really doesn't want to do that, least of all on his birthday.

Frack. It's his birthday.

"Felicity, it's fine. I was being thoughtless."

"No, really. You weren't. I'm being kind of ridiculous? I promise I'm not like this usually. I think I'm still." She gestures to her head and let's her hand fall away in a helpless sort of stutter because she's not even sure what she means by that anyway. "I guess part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop."

He nods in understanding, like she's making perfect sense even though she feels about as far from sense as possible right now.

She's like the human embodiment of glitchy code, all ones where there should be zeros.

"It doesn't seem real, does it?" he asks quietly.

Felicity shakes her head with a smile but there's no energy behind it, not now. If only he knew the number of dreams that started exactly like this, only to wake in the morning and he was gone.

"If you'd asked me this time last week if I imagined I'd be here with you, like this, I'd probably laugh. And then cry. Crying was my thing."

"And we're still being pretty cautious with each other," Oliver says, padding closer.

"Yeah. It's going to take some getting used to. Being together."

"It's good though, right?"

She thinks of yesterday and the way he drove for miles holding her hand across the center console, how she caught him watching her with a loving smile as she tried to read a map while keeping the length of her hair out of her eyes, failing and huffing every time the wind blew. She remembers the way he tucked her close and mouthed a kiss to her forehead as they stood at the hotel reception desk waiting to check in, the sense memory of his breath still warm against her skin somehow, and it's good.

It's so good.

"I think so," she admits finally, smiling at both him and the memories they're building together and it's only been two days.

A lifetime of this makes her feel giddy.

There's not much distance between them now as they trace each other's faces with matching smiles and sunshine eyes, just getting lost for a while like they always do the moment their eyes lock; the world beyond them falling away.

Oliver is first to move, hauling her closer, pressing her up against the warmth of his skin heated by adrenaline and the early morning sun.

"You're really sweaty," Felicity whispers, lifting on tiptoes to throw her arms around his neck just as he bands both arms around her waist, molding them together solidly, no room for a breath.

"I was hoping to shower before you woke up," he says, nosing at the sensitive spot behind her ear.

"Oh." She arches her neck and shivers a little, loving the feel of him and his earthy male scent. "Now I'm glad I'm awake."

Oliver grins, surprise lighting his eyes and the lift of his brow as he looks at her. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. What better way to celebrate your birthday than sexy shower time? Happy birthday, by the way. I should have opened with that but you went all stealth ninja on me and then my brain sort of futzed—"

"It's my birthday?" he asks, hands frozen against her hips, and of all his possible reactions, Felicity wasn't expecting that.

"You forgot?"

"I've not had much reason to celebrate the last few years. Or look at a calendar."

"Right." She winces, falls flat to her feet. "Sorry."

"It's—" He pauses again, brow furrowing as he takes a moment to think and he blinks a few times, looking a little knocked off his feet when he says, "I'm thirty today. Wow."

"Much wow. Big wow. It's a special birthday too, and I didn't even get you a present. I'm a terrible girlfriend. I'm sorry."

"Calling yourself my girlfriend is present enough," he says, the grin pressing hard and wide into the apples of his cheeks, and Felicity smiles too, softly poking at one of his dimples with her fingertip.

"I like these," she says, and then traces his smile as it widens further. "And I didn't know you were such a romantic."

"With you I hope to be."

"See, now you're just making it worse!" she says playfully even though she's pretty serious, too. "It's your birthday and you're the one being all flirty and romantic to me, standing here all shirtless and sexy. That's not how this is supposed to go."

"How's it supposed to go?" he asks, tucking her hair behind her ear, watching his fingers as he does, his gaze so tender—reverent almost—and oh, she's never felt so cherished in all her life. "Tell me."

She ducks her chin away from the heat of his caress, gives a one-shoulder shrug. "I was supposed to remember. That would've helped."

"Felicity, you're the one who reminded me it was my birthday."

"Only because I set a reminder on my phone! I don't even remember setting that alarm. It must have been last year or something."

Last year had been a good birthday, at least she thought so. It was an interlude of sorts, respite from thinking about Slade on Lian Yu and the clean up of the city, Diggle freaking out about becoming a father, Roy moping about Thea, and Felicity wondering if Oliver had truly meant what he said and Do you understand? and uh no, she did not. Instead of all that, Felicity had arrived at the foundry on Oliver's birthday armed with pizza and beer and made her three guys sit on beer crates to eat and talk about something else, and it was perfect. Just a simple moment stolen from the usual pace of their lives.

"Okay, so you'd remember," Oliver persists gently, sensing her inner ramble. "What else?"

"I don't know," she says, distracted by the cut of his abdomen and trailing her fingers there. "I guess I'd surprise you with a birthday breakfast or something else that you'd probably brood over, like cupcakes or balloons."

"I would not brood over balloons."

"You would, Oliver. You'd get frown-y face like you do when Cisco touches your arrows. But that doesn't matter. The point is I'd have an actual present to give you." She frowns at that, remembering the point of the conversation, and no amount of pretty abs could make her feel less disheartened.

"Felicity, hey," he says, catching her wrist, brushing his thumb against the tick of her pulse. "It's okay."

"I know it's relatively meaningless on the scale of Worst Things That Ever Happened but I wanted to get you something. I guess I thought you'd still be with Ra's and it hurt too much to think about it."

It still does.

"Come here," Oliver murmurs, ushering her back into his arms, and Felicity falls willingly into his embrace, unable to stop from clinging to him for a moment.

"I hate that I just said that man's name," she mumbles into his skin. "This is supposed to be a happy day."

"And it is because I'm with you. Felicity, the amount of times I never thought I'd reach this age...It's all good. I promise. I have all that I want."

"Okay," she says, and it is, as long as he's happy today. She pulls away to look at him, takes a breath to get herself together. "You've convinced me."

"I'm very convincing sometimes."

Felicity bites her lip against the husky growl of his voice and really, it should be illegal for him to sound like that, looking like he does, all sexy and sweaty and hers.

Ugh, the nerve of him.

"Convince me some more," she breathes against his lips and just like that, it is on.

Oliver makes a sexy sound low in his throat that zips low in her belly and the second their mouths meet he nips at her bottom lip with his teeth, just a gentle tug as his hands slide everywhere, like he doesn't know where to start but never wants to stop. He clutches at her face and skims through her hair, his fingers catching on the sleep-mused strands before he skates an eager path down her spine to grab at her ass. Felicity makes a lusty noise of absolute content as he licks into her mouth and she melts like she's boneless suddenly, completely melts.

She doesn't fall.

They make out for a long while, just happy to be here like this, no outside threats or obligations, and Felicity smiles into every kiss. Their tongues slide together slow and wet and nothing else matters until Oliver breaks away for much-needed air, mouthing a breathy path down her neck to her collarbone exposed by the dip of his t-shirt hanging loose over one shoulder. He follows the stitching in the collar with his thumb, peppers her skin with gentle sucking kisses and nuzzles of his nose, drawing in the scent of her, and Felicity scrapes her fingers through his hair.

"Oliver," she breathes, not really sure why at this point, completely overwhelmed by the presence of him and his hands and the lick of his tongue and and...

Oliver slides his hand down the back of her panties, printing his palm into the swell of her ass, squeezing one cheek, feeling the flesh give in his hand. His touch is harder than she's ever felt and Felicity jolts with pleasure and need, gasping sharply into his mouth followed by an impatient little whine as she senselessly tries to climb him.

He groans through her name.

"Yeah, yep."

"We should—"

"Be more naked? I agree." She noses a line along his jaw up to his ear, tugs at his earlobe. "Why aren't you naked?" she whispers, soft and suggestive, scraping her nails against the elastic of his sweatpants until he jerks his hips hard.

"I'm." His grip tightens. "Fuck."

"Yes. Let's. Let's do that."

Oliver moans again and ducks to lift her, gripping her firmly where her ass meets her thighs, mouth open and hot against her neck. Felicity rolls her hips as much as she can in this position, watching the way his jaw clenches and his eyes close tight in a heady mix of bliss and loosening restraint. She's about to try again, loving the mindless look on his face when she does, but Oliver throws her on the bed and Felicity laughs with breathless joy as she bounces on the mattress instead.

She stops the second he climbs on top.

They're both breathing heavy now, his arms tense as he holds himself above her and lets his eyes follow a lingering trail down the restless line of her body, biting his lip when he notices the way her t-shirt has risen in the struggle.

She's only wearing a tiny pair of white cotton panties that cut into her ass fabulously thank you very much, but they're pretty simple and nondescript. Hardly the most arousing underwear she owns.

Oliver does not seem to mind.

He dips to kiss the bone of her hip, bites the skin, licks lower as her stomach clenches and trembles in response and Felicity is near out of her mind with want. Pausing to breathe against her for a moment, Oliver fingers the small pink bow sewn into the elastic of her panties and she shivers, running her fingers across his scalp just as he hooks under the elastic to tug them down and yes, oh yes...

"I—"

One of their phones rings then, a loud annoying hum from somewhere, and Oliver makes a throaty noise of frustration, dropping his forehead to her tummy to catch his breath.

"Damn," he curses against her skin before lifting himself off her slowly — reluctantly, she thinks —brushing his hand down the outside of her thigh as he moves to the phone where it's buzzing on the desk. He scans the screen and mumbles something Russian-sounding under his breath. "I thought so...It's Thea."

"Oh!" Felicity says, still breathless, pressing up on her elbows now. "She's probably calling to wish you happy—" She startles upright at the sudden knock on the door, snapping her legs closed as she frowns at him and they just can't catch a break this morning. "You expecting anyone?"

"Yeah." Oliver winces, looking between his phone and the door and over to Felicity on the bed, still flushed with arousal, nipples hard through his shirt. "I ordered breakfast earlier, seeing as it's my job to feed you."

"We said not to call it a job, remember?" she grins, climbing from the bed and hurrying to the door, even though she feels ten kinds of sexually frustrated right now. "You speak to Thea and I'll answer the door and we'll just...rain check on the other thing."

"We're rain checking sex?"

"Mmmhmm. For now because food."

She doesn't feel the need to add anything to that because girl's gotta eat and her stomach is rumbling now that she thinks about it. But Oliver's phone is still ringing and she glances back to where he's watching the sway of her ass in a way that makes her body thrum with lust and he's not even touching her. She clears her throat with a pointed stutter and tugs on the t-shirt so it's covering her properly, the action enough to draw his attention upward.

He looks more than conflicted but Felicity just smiles.

"I promise it will be worth the wait."

His head tilts to the side like an adorable little puppy and he smiles back just as softly for a long moment.

"It already was," he says, throwing her a flirty wink as he finally answers his phone.


After breakfast they venture out of their hotel to explore "Because everyone needs to do something on their 30th birthday, Oliver!" and maybe even find the campsite where Oliver stayed with Tommy when they were kids.

They end up driving north on Highway 1 with the top down on the Porsche, the sun bleeding a shallow warmth along the miles of winding road and jagged rocky coast falling into the sea. The route is pretty scenic, with little overlooks every few miles, and Oliver pulls over a couple of times just so he can kiss the lipstick from her mouth and Felicity can photograph his red-smudged smile.

She makes it her phone background.

Eventually they stop at Carmel-by-the-Sea to stretch their legs and look around and when they reach a plaza of shops and restaurants, Felicity convinces Oliver to stand in line for ice cream while she ducks into a lingerie boutique because she might not have bought him a birthday present but she can certainly dress up like one.

"What's in the bag?" Oliver asks once she reappears, handing her a small cup of mint-chip beaded with condensation and already starting to melt.

"Just something for later." She shrugs, looping the bag over her arm. "For our rain check."

"I see," he says, eyes dark with appreciation.

"Oh, I don't think you do," she laughs, digging into her ice cream with the little plastic spoon.


They walk around the town for a while, both kind of content with the silence and quiet pace of life around them but also a little hesitant considering it's the opposite of what they're used to. There's a light and newness to everything but they're almost startled by it, approaching everything like there's danger at every turn and it's too damn good to be true.


"According to this," Felicity announces loudly, studying a leaflet she plucked from the souvenir shop they'd just scoured for postcards. "Clint Eastwood was the former Mayor of Carmel-by-the-Sea from 1986 to 1988."

"That sounds fake, Felicity."

"It's not! This is an official leaflet, Oliver." She flaps it in his face for emphasis. "Oh, and apparently you need a permit to wear high heels."

"Now that really sounds fake."

"Imagine if I'd worn my heels today I'd be actually breaking the law right now. That's hilarious."

Oliver glances briefly at her cute yet very flat gold sandals but he seems pretty amused, if the quirk of his mouth is anything to go by. "Felicity, we broke the law all the time."

"That's why it's so funny. I break the law every day and I have to go on vacation to actually get arrested. For footwear. You know, these are the things I would tweet about if I had Twitter, which I don't because it's safer to have a small digital footprint with what we do. But getting arrested for wearing high heels would be a definite hashtag LOL moment. Roy would probably Retweet me."

Felicity laughs at herself and tucks the leaflet away in her purse, but it's only when she looks up that she notices Oliver's not laughing or smiling or even following her at all.

"What's wrong?" she asks, panicked by the intense frown-y look on his face, the kind he gets when he's thinking too much about the weight of his world and everything in between.

"I need to ask you something."

"O-kay," Felicity says slowly, not really following the change in mood but reaches for his hand anyway.

Oliver doesn't say anything else, just nods and looks around, scanning the area for somewhere more appropriate to talk, at least Felicity assumes that's what he's doing, and his eyes settle on the small park opposite. It's filled with kids on bikes and dogs off their leashes, noise and laughter everywhere, but there's a bench tucked away behind some trees for privacy and by the time they take a seat Felicity is starting to think the worst.

He hasn't said a word.

"Okay, what's going on?"

Oliver stares at the grass like it has all the answers. "The other day, when we had breakfast with Thea, you said something that's been bothering me and..."

"And what?" Felicity frowns, trying to think of every ridiculous thing that came out of her mouth that morning and she's not sure where to start.

"When you wanted to give me a new name, now that the Arrow is gone, it sounded like you expect us to go back. And just now you called this a vacation. Is that—is this just a vacation to you?"

She swallows hard and there it is, that swell of panic again, solid in her chest. "I didn't really want to talk about this on your birthday."

"Oh," he says, and his gaze drops to the grass again.

"No!" she says quickly, grabbing his shoulder. "Don't say Oh."

"What else am I expected to say, Felicity?"

"Anything but Oh, all sad and disappointed. I don't want you to feel like that, especially not today."

"I don't care what today is. I care that we're basically living my dream right now but you don't really want to be here."

"Well, you're wrong!" she snaps, more than annoyed that he could even think such a thing. "I want to be with you always, wherever we are. And like Thea said, we need this time away. You need this time away. I don't want you to worry about threats and danger and all of that for a while."

"But?"

"But...you're a hero, Oliver."

Oliver shakes his head like he still doesn't believe it, looking off into the distance, and Felicity catches his wrist because it feels like he's about to move away.

"No, listen to me," she pleads. "That's who you are now and you always will be. And one day I think you'll realize that it's time to go home because this will never be enough."

"A life with you will always be enough for me," he says, so earnest and open, completely raw as he looks at her.

"And I love that you think that now, believe me. But it doesn't have to be enough, Oliver. You can have it all. It's my dream actually."

"What is?"

"You and me, together. Working as a team. We'd catch some bad guys and then you'd take my hand and kiss me and we'd go home. And then we'd wake up together and do it all over again the next day."

"And that's what you want?"

"Yes. I love what we do," she says around a smile, glancing at the twine of her fingers in her lap. "Before I met you and John I was kind of lonely and a bit lost, although I don't think I realized that at the time. I didn't have many close friends and I hadn't met anyone aside from Walter who believed in my skills, even though I was basically running the IT department. No one really saw me or what I could offer and after everything that happened with Cooper, I thought I liked it that way. I was okay with that—being the IT girl. But then you came into my life and you changed everything and I feel like I have a purpose now. Not that my life was meaningless before but. We do great things and that's important to me. What we do, Oliver. It's important."

Oliver runs his fingers across his forehead, agitation in the swipe of his hand. "This is a lot to think about, Felicity."

"I know, and you will. There's no rush. But I just want you to know if ever you want to go back, I'll be by your side when you do and I hope," she falters momentarily, just to wet her lips and swallow her nerves. "I hope you'll be by my side too."

He frowns, looking at her carefully now. "Why wouldn't I?"

She eyes him skeptically for a moment, huffing a breath of frustration when he shrugs at her pointed glare, seeming clueless and at a loss for words, and honestly, she's getting real tired of having to spell everything out for him lately.

"Oliver, you told me you couldn't be with me and save the city at the same time. So you can't blame me for being worried about that."

"But things have changed," he says, and if he wasn't so adorable in his confusion she'd probably want to strangle him.

"Have they?" she prompts. "You chose the city before and this time you chose me. And even though I understand your reasons, there doesn't have to be a choice. I think you can have both. I always have."

"Felicity," he sighs. "If we do end up going back to Starling and yes, I guess it's a possibility because Thea's there, I'm not ending this. Just being with you these last couple of days...waking up with you and..."

"I know, Oliver. I know," she says, cradling his face as soon as the words catch in his throat.

"I'm not letting you go again. I love you, Felicity."

"I love you, too."

Oliver smiles, so bright and sunshine-y despite the watery shine of his eyes. "That's the first time you've said that, since that night."

"Oh. Well." She inches closer until their mouths are a breath apart. "If it helps, I've thought it a lot."

"It does, it really does," he says, and then he kisses her.


Later that night, after dinner in small Italian restaurant overlooking the ocean, Oliver suggests a walk on the beach. It's a steep incline of rocky steps down to the sand, with only a rickety weathered wooden railing as support and not much in the way of light except for the moon, but they make their way down slowly, hand in hand.

Once they reach the bottom, Felicity uses his shoulder for support while she takes off her shoes, needing to feel the sand between her toes, and Oliver stands watch while she runs down to the shore. She knows he's not the biggest fan of the water — he tolerates it, he says — so she doesn't beg him to join her, but she watches him watch her with a tender smile as she paddles in the gentle crash of the growing tide.

They walk for a short while, their joined hands swinging between them every now and then, and Felicity babbles endlessly about the scent of the ocean and how moonlit walks on the beach definitely qualifies as him being romantic, and Oliver just smiles and watches her with a quiet adoration, like he's something lost that he's so happy she found.

She grins, picturing him with a tag around his wrist that reads 'If found return to Felicity Smoak' and laughs harder into his shoulder when Oliver asks what's so funny.

Afterwards, they head back to their hotel where Felicity excuses herself with a quick kiss and a whispered, "I'll be right back," discreetly grabbing the shopping bag from earlier before hurrying into the bathroom. She pauses at the door for a moment, watching Oliver step out into the darkness on the balcony, his skin silver in the moonlight as he breathes in the salt of the ocean air.

It's okay from a distance.

She's not sure how long she's in the bathroom but it must be longer than she intended because at some point Oliver actually knocks and Felicity jolts enough that the box she was studying and some of their toiletries go scattering noisily into the sink.

"Frack," she mutters under her breath.

"Is everything okay?" Oliver asks, sounding unsure even muted through the wood. "You've been in there for a while."

"Um. Yeah. Everything's fine. I'm just." She stops tugging on the strip of red silk she's finally managed to secure across her bust, and turns to the door, although she doesn't open it. "I lied earlier."

"What about?" he asks after a long moment of silence.

"Getting you a present."

She hears him sigh. "Felicity, you don't—"

"No, wait. I didn't buy you anything exactly, or maybe I did because technically it's for you but whatever. The point is I'm the present." She cringes at that, screwing up her face, but powers through the discomfort anyway. "And I'm naked except for this hopefully sexy ribbon...thing that you can unwrap. It's taken me forever to work out how to fasten it, like an embarrassing amount of time really considering I'm a genius, but it's your birthday and you have to unwrap something so..."

"I get to unwrap you," Oliver says, voice gruff.

"Yeah," she breathes, pulse rushing at the thought.

Oh, oh the thought.

"When do I get to unwrap it?" he asks, sounding closer now, like he's pressed right up against the door.

"Whenever you want. It's your birthday."

"Are you gonna come out of the bathroom sometime tonight so I get the chance? Because there's not much of my birthday left."

"Oh! Yeah. Hang on. Two secs."

Felicity moves back to the bathroom mirror to double check the alignment of the bow and how it sits across her breasts. It's pushes up her cleavage nicely and even though it's not the same kind of bow as the one on the box, it still looks pretty good.

Hopefully Oliver won't be looking at the bow anyway.

She nods and turns, craning her neck to check how good her ass looks in the tiny red lace thong, and nods again, satisfied, even though her pulse is racing, her face too hot.

It's pretty ridiculous to be nervous because this is definitely not their first time having sex but it is the first time since Nanda Parbat. Even though they've been on the road for two days now and there have been a couple of lovely trips to second base, there was also a silent understanding that they needed some time.

But Felicity's ready now, so ready, seriously ready all day long, even though it's different this time. Before, the sex was all about showing how much they loved each other when they thought they'd never get another chance, connecting on a deeper level. It was pretty soul shattering if she's really honest and her tummy gets all fluttery just thinking about it, remembering the weight of him above her, the moment he slid into her the first time.

But it actually feels like there's a lifetime of possibilities for nights like that—slow and sensual and candlelit—and so right here, right now, she just wants to throw herself at him. She wants to rip off his shirt the way they do in the movies, scattering buttons everywhere, wrap her lips around his cock and leave her lipstick there — mark him in all the ways she hasn't had a chance to yet.

She wants it hard and fast. Needs it actually. Badly.

Which is why she's standing here, barely covered by loops of red silk and lace, dressed with the intent to seduce, and it's not really something she's ever wanted to do before. Or had to. But buying the outfit had been a total whim, so much so that she didn't have time to talk herself out of it and so she's feeling it now, with all this time and space from him, her own reflection looking so unsure.

"You can do this, Felicity," she tells herself. "He loves you. He's attracted to you, like whoa boy." She fans her hand across her face. "This is just something fun and you need fun. You both do."

"Felicity?"

"Double frack," she hisses, blowing out one last fortifying breath.

Shaking her hair over her shoulders, she runs a fingertip around the edge of her mouth, checking for lipstick bleeds, and pops her lips together a couple of times, catching sight of herself once more in the mirror. It's only then that she really takes note of the complete package, wrapped up in some ridiculous red bow across her boobs, and she splutters a laugh that she tries to catch in the cup of her hands, clearly failing at the sound of Oliver's bemused questioning of her name again.

"I'm—" she starts, still giggling at the complete ridiculousness of it all because she wrapped herself up like some kind of present and who even does that?

"Felicity, just open the damn door already."

Felicity unlocks the bathroom door finally, pulling it open with little care or finesse for her earlier plan of seduction slowly slowly, bit by bit, tantalize and tease.

"I'm sorry," she chuckles, clutching at her side now. "I just realized how funny this looks and now I can't stop laughing and oh—" She stops and straightens. Swallows hard. "You are definitely not laughing right now."

Instead, Oliver's rigidly still and intense, hands clenched by his sides, eyes darting all over her with an eagerness she hasn't ever seen from him before, at least not like this.

"Because you could laugh," she adds. "If you wanted to. It's pretty funny. I look ridiculous. I won't be offended."

He doesn't move. Doesn't even blink.

"Would you turn for me?"

"Oh! Really?"

Oliver nods, and Felicity's not laughing anymore either.

Her pulse is on the side of heavy as she starts to turn, chest lurching at the breathy sound he makes when he gets a glimpse of her ass, the naked line of her back, the little indents at the base of her spine that she remembers him tracing with his fingers...

"Felicity. You. You're."

Turning in a circle finally, she draws his gaze up from her ass and presses her thighs together at the desperate need written all over his face.

"Are you gonna—?"

She points at the bow and he nods again, stepping closer, reaching for the end where it rests against her skin. He rubs the silk between finger and thumb for a second and then tugs, not taking his eyes off hers as the ribbon unravels in a slow whispery sliver.

Felicity gasps as the cooler air touches her breasts and tightens her nipples — the sensation tugging low and twirl-y in her tummy, making her wet.

"That, that was quick," she breathes.

"I don't mess around when unwrapping presents."

"I can see that."

Oliver moves then, brushing his fingers down her stomach and hooking them into her thong, tearing it down her thighs. The elastic tugs with his impatience, leaving little red marks where it catches against her skin, and Felicity pushes it down to help, wiggling a little to kick it away.

She's completely naked now except for a slick of shiny red on her lips and a pair of black heels, and there's something so hot about standing there naked while he's still fully clothed, watching her with dark lidded eyes.

She feels jittery, achy with need.

"Oliver," she breathes, and just the sound of his name and the way it catches on a whine has him pressing her up against the wall and melting her mouth with his own.

Their kisses are frantic and sloppy at first but there's also a desperate heat with every wet slide of their tongues that has them clutching at each other everywhere. His ass. Her thigh. The cut of his bicep and the curve of her spine.

The heat of his hands is too much though, too much and yet not enough, and Felicity's impatient to feel the weight of him again, feel his fingers curling inside her just right. She steals his hand from her ass and presses it between her thighs, letting him feel how wet she is, how much she wants him and where.

"Right there," she whispers, hot against his mouth. "Touch me."

And he does, sucking on her lower lip as his fingers circle and slide, teasing her clit with soft little strokes that make her hips stutter. She's clutching at his shoulders now, stealing his breath with every exhale when he slides two fingers inside her suddenly, deep and hard, quick then slow.

"How's that?" Oliver asks breathily, their noses sliding against each other as he fucks her with his hand. "Good?"

"Uh-huh, keep...Yes!"

Oliver grins against her mouth and starts to move, scattering kisses wherever he breathes. The arch of her neck, the smooth rise between her breasts, ducking to trace her nipple with his tongue, sucking lightly, nipping it with his teeth until she gasps at the sensation. He mouths at her ribcage beneath her breasts, his hand still working her up tighter and closer to something and everything, rubbing his thumb against her clit now, and she's so wound, so focused on the building pleasure that she barely notices his direction until she feels the nudge of his chin against her pubic bone.

Her eyes open wide. "What..."

She's a little lost for words at the sight of him kneeling at her feet because she knows his intent now and this is something they haven't done yet and oh boy, oh...

Oliver removes his fingers and trails a wet path down the back of her thigh, lifting and placing one leg over his shoulder, spreading her wide. He breathes her name in a soft brush of his mouth to the inside of her knee and then kisses down her thigh, watching her the whole time, learning every little tick and pulse, everything she likes.

The scratch of his stubble is everything.

Felicity's more than a little frustrated now, almost sliding down the wall with every desperate writhe, and patience is not her virtue as she curls her hand around the back of his head and guides his mouth right where she wants him. He grins against her and then licks a slow torturous line from her entrance to her clit, up and down, side to side, circles and eights and—

"Fuck!" she shouts, slapping one hand against the wall as she grinds against his mouth, all control lost to the movement his tongue demands.

He moans his pleasure at that, a rough throaty sound that vibrates in a delicious sort of shudder, and he licks her harder, deeper, stroking her inner walls until his nose nudges right against her clit and she pants breathlessly, mindless with need as she arches and rolls, arches and rolls.

Her thigh shakes where it's supporting her weight and her fingers are nearly numb where she's still holding him tight, and Oliver slides his palm up from her waist to cup her breast. He circles the areola with his thumb and then tugs at her nipple, rolls it in an electric pinch just as he moves to lick her clit into his mouth and sucks it, hard, and then she's gone, lost, shuddering messily against his mouth, vision white as she clenches her eyes closed to the wet frantic pleasure of it all.

"Me," she pants sometime later, trying to blink away the spots from her eyes as she comes down from her orgasm, still clenching around his tongue. "My. Oliver..."

Oliver gives her one final lick that has her jerking from the sensitivity and then he strings a line of wet kisses down the inside of her thigh as he sets her leg down and moves to stand up, still holding her up by the waist because her legs are jelly and she just cannot move and what even are words right now?

"I think you fucked all sense out of me," she says, dropping a few inches as she kicks off her heels and sags back against the wall, pressing a palm to her still-racing heart. "Your mouth—"

"Loves the way you taste," Oliver interrupts, his face lit with a dirty grin, lips shiny with her.

"I can't believe you just said that!"

"Why? It's true," he says and licks his lips with a growly "Mmm" to prove it before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning wider when she actually squeaks.

"Is it my turn now?" she asks, because it is his birthday and none of her plans involved him making her a wet quivering mess against the wall, although she's really not complaining.

"Later. Right now we're going to bed."

"You don't want to make more use out of this wall? It's a very good wall." She gives it a couple of sharp taps with her knuckle. "Sturdy. I like it."

Oliver chuckles and leans in closer again, pressing his erection into her stomach. "Do you want me to fuck you against this wall, Felicity?"

Yes please.

"Later?" she suggests with a smile, smoothing a hand down the line of buttons on his shirt and further down until she's cupping him through his jeans. "Bed first."

Oliver clenches his eyes closed and jerks his hips when she squeezes him lightly, fully tracing the length of him through the material, and he presses a couple of desperate groan-y kisses to her lips.

"Come on," he says, voice low and rough as he lifts her again, grasping her ass in his hands and giving the swell a generous squeeze as he walks them toward the bed.

Felicity nips at his mouth a few times on the way, smiling into every kiss, tugging at his shirt to get at his skin.

"This needs to come off," she says impatiently, settling on the mattress, and Oliver does what he's told.

He reaches for the back of his collar and tugs, sweeping off his shirt in one move, not disturbing a single button.

She'll get them next time.

He goes for his belt next, unbuckling and pushing down his jeans, kicking them away until he's standing there in just his boxers, breathless and hard, and Felicity scoots back on the bed, crooking her finger with a flirty little curl and spreading her legs wide.

Oliver practically pounces then, crawling in between her thighs, giving her nipple a quick hard suck before pressing her down with the full weight of him, catching her mouth with a moan, sucking on her tongue as he sets up a slow deliberate grind.

He hits the spot pretty damn perfectly, the material of his boxers rubbing her clit just right, just a little more, but she wants him inside her now, needs it, and Felicity tears down his boxers just enough to take him in hand, stroking his cock a few times, thumbing at the bead of pre-cum until he groans into her mouth.

"Just fuck me," she says desperately. "We're good, we're safe, just, yeah."

Oliver seems to understand when he takes one last look in her eyes and lines himself up, braces his hands beside her head and enters her hard, a quick sharp thrust that has her gasping and arching and clutching at his arms.

"Like this?" he says against her mouth and Felicity nods until their lips are brushing.

"Yes! Oliver!"

He pulls out slowly and thrusts back in with a fiery smack of his hips, again and again, over and over, harder and deeper and grunting each time, setting up a frantic sort of rhythm, and they both groan when she clenches around him, heightening the feel of him stretching her so fully where she's hot and wet. For him.

"Felicity," he pants, wrecked and breathless from fucking her, and Felicity digs her nails into the sweat peppering his spine.

"I love this," she breathes almost dreamily, sweeping her hands down to cup his ass, loving the feel of the muscle clench as he works hard inside her.

"I love you," Oliver says, catching her mouth as much as he can, his pace grueling and unstoppable now, his focus narrowed to the slick slide of his dick in and out.

Felicity hitches her legs high around his waist, the position spreading her wider somehow, letting him hit her deeper than before and she feels pleasure-soaked and stunned as her orgasm hits a moment later, her walls milking his cock, her hips restless as they chase the sensation, her back arched and her breasts rubbing against his chest as she comes with a silent moan.

Oliver grits his teeth and groans desperately now, pumping into her faster, the force of it practically pushing her up the bed, and all it takes is one, two more thrusts and then he's coming, jerking and shuddering, gulping air against her neck as his hips stutter and he slumps on top of her in a breathy sweaty mess of relief.

Felicity mouths a couple of kisses to his neck, stroking the length of his back lifting with every hard breath and tracing the scars there, feeling the callous skin of his burn at the base of his spine.

"Mmm, I love you."

Somehow, Oliver finally finds the strength to lift himself and they both hiss a little as he pulls out. He falls in a heap on the bed beside her, smoothing his hand down the inside of her thigh where her legs are still spread wide and she's more than a little messy.

"Amazing," he says, rolling on his side to face her and, eventually, Felicity does the same, reaching out to touch his face, scratch her fingertips through his stubble.

"Hey, Oliver," she says, smiling when he meets her eye. "Happy birthday."

He grins, kissing the tip of her nose and the corner of her mouth, sliding his hand down the curve of her hip to tug her close before closing his eyes.