AN: This the chapter where I had the most fun coming up with a title :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow; I just play around with the characters and make them do things.

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You're Banging My Bedroom Wall

XII. Quacks like a Duck & Looks like a Duck

As the night raged on around them, Felicity was reminded why she rarely ever drank.

Alcohol made her brave and it made her bold.

When she went clubbing, Sara did enough drinking for the both of them and she usually tried to get them in trouble like it was her one and only purpose in the world. After that one weekend in Vegas Felicity took to staying coherent and making sure nothing happened that they would later regret. But there were always those times when it was her turn to throw all caution to the wind and be a little wild.

And tonight was one of those nights.

She had been having somewhat of a dry spell lately and Sara had been hounding her to just pick some random guy at every club they went to have sex with for months. That was probably her real reason for trying to get her to sleep with the manwhore.

Felicity rubbed her hand up and down Oliver's chest. She smiled up at him with come-hither eyes and slowly let her arm snake up and wrap around his neck. Her fingers came to rest at the nape of his neck and played with the short hair there.

His eyes darkened with lust and he pulled her impossibly tighter against his chest. A gasp parted her lips and then he was suddenly there, his lips pressed against hers in a hungry, passionate kiss that stole her breath away.

"Let's get out of here," he breathed, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. A shiver ran down her spine and she nodded shakily.

It was all a blur from there.

Oliver pulled her off the dance floor and out of the club. They tumbled into a cab and the next thing Felicity knew she was being pressed against a door. Her arms came up to snake around his neck as she pressed kiss after kiss, lightly nipping with her teeth, along the column of his throat. A low growl rumbled through his chest as he struggled to open the door and she grinned, loving the power she had over him.

Eventually he got it open and they stumbled into his apartment, lips interlocked in a heated kiss. The door slammed shut behind them and she moaned into his mouth as his hands glided down her back, passed her hips, and finally settled on the swell of her ass. He squeezed once before wrapping her legs tight around his waist and walking across his apartment to the bedroom.

They fell onto his bed and it was a frenzy from there. Felicity shoved his jacket down his arms and ripped his shirt open so that she could kiss down his chest. He hissed at the feeling of her lips on him and pulled her in for yet another searing kiss. They shed the rest of their clothes, throwing them haphazardly around the room, and they came together for the first time of many that night.

The night was filled with the sounds of gasps and moans and skin slapping against skin with his every pounding thrust that forced the headboard to bang against the wall followed by screams of pleasure when they came.

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Felicity carefully studied Oliver's face as he slept. She traced the planes of his face, the slope of his nose, and the curve of his lips with her eyes, unable to deny how handsome he was. Her gaze drifted downwards and she admired his hard, chiseled abs and toned muscles of his arms.

A part of her still couldn't believe that she had done any of the things she had done last night, but she didn't regret one moment of any of it.

How could she when she had the best sex of her life?

She settled back down against her pillow and just watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, content where she was for the moment. Her gaze flickered to the bedside table beside him and she cringed at the time, suddenly remembering that she hadn't checked in with Sara before leaving Verdant. There was probably a search party full of cops on the streets of Starling City looking for her.

Felicity really didn't want to leave, but if she just texted Sara, her best friend would have demanded that they meet anyway so that she could see that she was alright with her own two eyes. She carefully extricated herself from his tight embrace and scooped her dress up off the floor where it had been haphazardly thrown the night before and quickly put it back on before scrawling a quick note on a piece of paper, unwilling to wake him up. She gathered her heels and purse and with one last glance at his sleeping form slipped out of his bedroom.

Quickly and quietly, she made her way to the front door, bare feet padding softly against the cool hardwood floors. She opened it just wide enough to slip out and turned to close it with a soft click before moving to make a quick escape. Hopefully she would be able to get home before too many people saw her.

But she froze as she looked around the hallway.

She was already home.

"Fuck me," she breathed as she felt all of the blood drain from her face.

Now that she thought about it, her mind no longer fogged by the alcohol, she did recognize him. He was the man on the elevator who had invited himself on her morning run all those weeks ago.

She felt the breath leave her as she distinctly remembered that there was definitely some wall banging last night.

Oliver Queen was her manwhore neighbor.

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And now she knows.