Late-Night Meeting
By Bre (dust2dust34)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Arrow.
Rating: Explicit
Author's Notes: Part of my Heartbeats Olicity ficlet collection. Once again, I'm too excited to wait to post this. All mistakes and choppy writing are mine.
Timeline: A happy magical place that is post-S2 where Felicity and Oliver are together. Oh, and that beautiful deleted scene with the kiss? Totally happened in this 'verse.
Summary: Oliver gets called to a late emergency board meeting, leaving Felicity on her own.
The room was dark, the only light coming from her flickering television, images of the first romantic comedy that had been listed in that category on Netflix splashing against the dark walls. It was on mute, leaving nothing else but the soft sound of her gentle breathing, the rustling of her sheets when she shifted on the bed, and the sound of popcorn crunching as she shoveled another handful into her mouth.
"Oh, Antoine," Felicity said in a hushed whisper, emphasizing her words dramatically through a mouthful of mottled kernels. "But can't you see? I love you."
She watched for a second.
"Hmm, lucky me. Lay one on me," she said, deepening her voice as the main romantic interest implored soundlessly to the helplessly clueless protagonist. She followed the action, grabbing another handful of popcorn. Waiting for the appropriate moment, she found it and said, "And don't call me Antoine. My name is Wally."
She switched characters. "Yes, I know, but how can I love a man named Wally?"
Tonight was supposed to be the night.
Alright, The Night had already happened many moons ago, but this was supposed to be another the night. A date night, a night that was just for them. No Arrow business, no Queen Consolidated business, just them business. That is until Oliver had gotten a call for an emergency board meeting well over two hours ago.
After thirty minutes of nothing, she'd traded in the pinching bra for one of Oliver's t-shirts and the thong for plain ol' panties. After an hour, she'd turned the TV on to see one of her favorite movies of all time playing, only to change it because it was the kind of movie that deserved to be properly watched from the beginning, which ended with her picking the first movie that popped up on Netflix.
And now here she was, two hours later, quoting that movie with another on silent, her popcorn getting cold and hard, and still no Oliver.
She was more proud of him than she could ever express since they had gotten the company back - since he had gotten the company back - because he had done it all on his own. After he had defeated Slade, after order had come back to Starling City, and after they had come back from Lian Yu, things had been different.
And she wasn't just talking about the love declaration or the kiss that had made her legs feel like they were going to fall right off, but he had changed.
Something had clicked in him, like a realization he hadn't even realized he'd been seeking… She had been perfectly fine going on as if nothing had happened, because she had honestly thought nothing had happened. He had said those things to fool Slade, so he would come for Felicity, ensuring he didn't go after Laurel…
It had taken them nearly three months and a lot of 'acting like damn idiots' - per Diggle - for anything to happen, and it finally had when they'd been watching a movie at her apartment, out on the couch, laying perfectly comfortable and content as friends are apt to do when she'd shifted her legs, pressing her feet against his thigh.
He'd laid his on her bare ankle, and she'd frozen, but when it didn't move again, she'd relaxed… until she had to move again - which had nothing to do with the fact that she had been hyperaware of everything Oliver, from how many breaths he was taking, to the tiniest movement of his fingers on her ankle bone, to when his right foot moved a centimeter, to when he huffed in laughter at the television…
Felicity had stretched her leg, pressing against him, and his hand had tightened… and somehow they ended up making out like the source of all mankind's air was down each other's throats, nearly falling off the couch in the process.
Her phone let out a delightful chime and Felicity nearly knocked the popcorn bowl off the bed as she dove for her phone.
O: Should be done soon
F: Hope the board appreciates these sacrifices
O: New company rule effective tomorrow: no more bullshit meetings in the middle of the night
F: :P
O: :)
Felicity smiled, shaking her head. Oliver using any sort of smiley face never failed to make her smile, turning the entire thing into a vicious smiling cycle that he was only too aware of. He was ridiculously proud of his ability to just find the vast amount of emojis on his phone, much less use them.
She put it aside, reaching for more popcorn when her phone chimed again.
O: What are you wearing?
Felicity made a face at her phone; it was a mix of a concerned furrowed brow - he was in a meeting, and he did need to be paying attention - and a smile that she was trying to not let break her face - because her boyfriend wanted to know what she was wearing. It wasn't something they'd ever done, or tried, mostly because they saw each other literally every single minute of the day…
Still, a board meeting was not the time for something like sexting, especially since there was still the delicate question of, 'Is Oliver Queen going to railroad the company again?'
And she would need to write an apology note to her future-self because present Felicity was going to be a bit of a buzzkill.
F: Are you still in the meeting?
O: Yes
F: Then I'm wearing a potato sack. Pay attention
O: :(
Felicity laughed and put the phone aside, looking back at the TV when it chimed again.
O: Felicity. What are you wearing
Despite herself, a heated thrill shot through her, and she shifted on the bed. She could hear him asking it perfectly; his voice would get deeper, softer, the voice he always used when he wanted something from her.
She could just imagine him, sitting at the head of the table, his phone in his lap, listening to the drone of the board members half-heartedly, his face perfectly stoic as he texted her.
She bit her lip, cocking her head. She shouldn't be encouraging this, he was the one always going on about how much he had to do at the office during the day.
Still… he had asked.
F: One of your shirts
O: Which shirt
F: Kings
O: The torn one?
She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as she smiled. It was her favorite shirt, and subsequently his favorite on her. It was one he had had for years, so worn through in some spots it was amazing the material still held together. All the edges were fraying with a large hole in one armpit, and in the right light you could see right through it, something he delighted in.
Like the one night in the living room when he'd had his hand through that tear and he'd teased and tugged on her nipples until they were swollen to twice their normal size, until they were very, very visible through the Kings logo. When she'd tried to touch him in return, he'd trapped her arms at her sides with his ridiculously muscled thighs, playing with her breasts until they were so sensitive that when he blew across the top of her chest, she felt bit of it.
"Okay, that's just cruel," she whispered, squeezing her thighs closer together, ignoring the tingling in her nipples at the memory. She licked her lips as she remembered how the rest of the night had progressed, from her twisting over and returning the favor, before slipping further down and licking every inch of his cock until he came, to when he'd pulled her back into his lap and sucked on her nipples through the shirt until all it took was a flick of her clit to send her crumbling into pieces in his arms.
F: You know it's my favorite
O: Is that all?
F: Panties too
O: Take them off
"What?" she asked the screen, and she laughed. "Oliver…"
Like he knew exactly how she was reacting, he texted,
O: Off
For a second, she considered it. Her fingers tingled as she rotated her hips, thinking back to the three fingers Oliver had had buried inside her that morning.
She knew he had to be bored, but she also knew that he needed to be paying attention. Whenever emergency board meetings were called, it was usually for a reason. A really, really crappy reason, if she had anything to say about it that night, but a reason nonetheless. Sometimes it was an issue with investor, or a public relations fiasco, or some weird inter-office scandal that couldn't wait until the daylight hours… whatever it was, the CEO of the company was called in for a reason.
And that reason was not to sext his girlfriend during said meeting.
O: You're thinking too much
Felicity scoffed at the phone. "I am not."
F: They'll be off when you get home. Now pay attention
O: Felicity
F: I'll be waiting
O: You're mean
She chuckled.
O: Be done soon
F: :D
O: They better be off
F: Yes sir
He didn't respond. When her phone didn't chime again, she finally put it aside.
Ignoring the slickness pooling between her legs, Felicity turned back to the movie, but it had lost all of its appeal. She switched Netflix off and started flipping through the channels, feeling an annoying disappointment settling in when her phone still didn't chime.
A few minutes passed of her being overly aware of the dull throb starting to build between her legs and not seeing anything on the television before she glanced at her phone, which was still not making a sound.
Dang it. Yes, past-Felicity was a buzzkill. No, she was a cock-block. She was her own cock-block. Can a girl be cock-blocked?
Felicity grabbed her phone, thumbing it on. He was the one who'd started it, and the one who would have to sext while in a meeting. Sext. What a weird word, sext. And look at her - she was a weird someone who had told her boyfriend to behave when he wanted to sext.
"Way to go, Smoak," she said, tossing her phone aside. She shifted again, feeling how slippery she was getting, and she readjusted, her stiff nipples scraping against the soft material of the shirt. She lifted up to pull it out from underneath her where it was bunching when her hand brushed over her chest, slipping across the hard peaks.
The slight touch sent a shot of desire straight through her center and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, shifting her legs again.
An image of Oliver rose unbidden in her mind, of him sitting in the meeting, staring at his phone. What would he have asked her to do?
She closed her eyes, her hand slipping down her side, but it wasn't her touch she felt - it was Oliver's, and the thought ignited a low burn in the pit of her stomach.
She glanced at the television, still on mute, and then to the closed window and partially open bedroom door, her body starting to dance with anticipation, her fingers itching to slip further down.
She could be responsible and play, right?
Rolling onto her back, Felicity skimmed her hands down her stomach, settling into the center of the bed. She closed her eyes, her hands coming back up to her breasts where she palmed them, her nipples hardening even more as she thought about Oliver's hands on them, the rough callouses on his palms scraping at her. She licked her lips, tugging her shirt up to slip her hands underneath, sighing when she touched her naked skin.
She tweaked her nipples, seeing Oliver's hands instead. He had such beautiful hands - they were used, scarred, rough and had seen more pain than any one person should have to endure… but he always touched her so gently, so knowingly. They were always tan somehow, a shocking contrast to her pale chest. He would play with her, roll her nipple between his sure fingers before his lips would wrap around it.
Felicity keened, arching her back into her hands, feeling his stubble scratching at the sensitive skin of her breast, his tongue flicking her nipple.
Felicity abandoned her one breast and slid her hand down and into her panties, bracing her legs on the bed as she moved her hips up to meet her fingers. She was already wet, her panties damp, and she slid her fingers through her juices before finding the little bundle of nerves as she imagined Oliver dragging his face across her stomach, the way he did it that always set her entire body on fire.
She loved his stubble, how rough and soft at the same time it was, how it felt when he kissed her, or when he pressed tender kisses down her body…
Her fingers pressed to her clit, making her hips jerk up, and she started rubbing gently as she imagined Oliver's fingers instead. And they would be in his office, in his conference room, where he sat at the head of the table and the cool glass on her back as he pressed his fingers against her harder, sending her higher, rubbing faster…
"Oliver," Felicity gasped, arching her back off the bed, a low pressure starting to build inside as she rubbed faster. She bit her lip, chasing her crisis, moaning when the tiny inferno started, when it started building, and she moved her hand faster, her mind flashing to Oliver's face pressed against her inner thigh, his stubble on the thin skin there, his fingers touching her, his hand grabbing her hip to keep her still as she…
Her phone chimed.
It broke through her pleasure haze instantly.
Felicity froze, her breathing erratic, her entire lower half aching with unreleased tension as the orgasm slowly backed off. She opened her eyes and glared at her phone before reaching for it, her hand still in her panties. She fumbled with it for a second, her heart starting to slow down when she saw it was a text from Oliver.
O: Don't come yet
It took her a moment to realize what he was saying and she frowned at the screen. "What?"
"I thought you said those would be off," a voice said from the hallway and Felicity dropped her phone in shock, narrowly avoiding it hitting her in the face as she twisted to see Oliver coming into the bedroom. She yanked her hand out of her panties and propped herself up on her elbows, a rush of heat scorching across her face as she realized that Oliver had just caught her masturbating.
Her jaw dropped as embarrassment swept through her. Logically she knew she had nothing to be embarrassed about, this was perfectly normal and healthy and all that, but she was… because she was, that's why.
"You're home," she said dumbly.
She could barely see his smirk in the flickering television screen.
He didn't reply.
Instead he approached the bed and grabbed her hips. Felicity let out a small, "Eep!" as he twisted her on the comforter and then tugged her to the edge of bed where he leaned over her.
Loomed was more of what he was doing, she realized, as she stared up at him with wide eyes where he hovered over her.
Without breaking eye contact, he grabbed her hand - the hand that was covered in her quickly drying wetness - and he sucked her index finger into his mouth.
Felicity gasped, a rush of heat sweeping through her as his tongue swirled around her finger, sucking it clean.
Oh god.
Oh god.
This was quite possibly the most erotic thing she had ever seen. Ever felt. Anything ever.
He released her finger and said, his voice carnally low, "You started without me."
"I, uh…" she stuttered, but then he sucked her middle finger between his lips and she nearly came right then. Her eyes switched to his mouth, the sight a heady one as he moved on to her ring finger, and everything below her waist was positively throbbing with need as she ached to feel his tongue doing that to her down there.
He released her finger, his lips grazing down her palm and her arm, and she tried to catch her breath enough to say, "How was the meeting?" when he said her name - Fe-li-ci-ty - and then his lips covered hers. She moaned, tasting a hint of herself on his tongue as he ravaged her, his body draping over hers, pressing her into the mattress. Felicity opened herself to him, and inhaled sharply as when he pressed his very obvious erection right where she needed it.
Oliver broke away, and she didn't have time to think when his fingers hooked in her panties as he slid back off the bed, landing on his knees before her. She vaguely realized he was still dressed for the meeting in his suit although his tie was loosened, the buttons at his throat undone and one side of the suit was wrinkled, like he'd been leaning against a wall.
His voice was severe as he said, "You said these would be off," and then he tugged them down her hips. Felicity barely managed to lift her legs to assist when they were gone and he pressed his hands up her thighs, spreading her open before him.
"Oliver," she whispered, her voice laced with need. She watched him as he took the sight of her in. She could see the glistening wetness between her legs as he spread her legs further apart. His eyes moved up to meet hers. She moaned deep in her throat at the darkness swirling in his gaze.
He didn't say a word as he lifted her legs and tossed them over his shoulders. Felicity's fingers tangled in the comforter, looking for traction as he gripped her hips tightly, yanking her closer to him before he leaned in, his eyes still locked on hers, and licked her from her soaking entrance all the way up to her clit.
"Oh, god, Oliver," she whispered, arching her back to get closer to him, but he nailed her hips in place, keeping her still as he flicked his tongue across the overly-sensitive nubbin. It was already primed from her ministrations, she'd been so close before, and now he was spreading her wide with his face, his tongue caressing her exactly how she had imagined he would, the pressure starting to build rapidly.
He was unrelenting, both soft and hard, his stubbled chin scraping at her entrance. Felicity pulled him closer, squeezing his head between her thighs as she ground down against him, seeking more friction, need starting to consume everything. She keeled when he pressed his face harder against her sex, his hands holding her down tightly.
His lips wrapped around her clit, sucking it rough enough for her to see stars, and she blindly reached for him, her fingers grasping at his hair, holding him closer as the pleasure coiled white hot inside her. She heard herself saying something, knowing words were coming out, but all she could concentrate on was the yearning inside her, tuned into everything he was doing to her, white noise consuming her mind…
Everything started to tingle with awareness, all of it shooting straight for her core when Oliver scraped his teeth over her clit.
Felicity came hard with a sharp yell, her back bowing, the orgasm ripping through her. Oliver didn't let her go, his grip on her hips tightening, but his tongue relented, softening as he rode out the orgasm with her, prolonging it until her hips were jerking against him in sporadic aftershocks.
"Oliver," she moaned, her fingers running along his scalp, and it took her a moment to feel her lungs start to work again. Her limbs were limp, her head full of cotton, and she shivered as his hands ran over her stomach. She keened when he dropped a wet kiss to her lower abdomen.
Felicity opened her eyes, watching him wipe his face - and why was that so damn sexy? He grinned at her, and she had just enough energy to move towards him, using his arms as anchors to pull herself up.
"Hi," she said, angling her head for a kiss.
"Hi," he replied, pressing his lips to hers. She moaned, tasting both of them, running her tongue across his lower lip. Her fingers found his belt, which she deftly undid as the kiss became more heated. She shoved them down his hips, followed by his boxer briefs.
"How was your meeting?" she asked breathlessly, wrapping her fingers around his rock hard cock. Oliver gritted his teeth, his forehead falling against hers as he thrust into her tightening grip. She ran her thumb over the head of it, spreading a tiny bead of precum, and his hips jerked.
"I don't remember," he replied, and he slid his arms under her legs, tossing her further up the bed before crawling on top of her.
The End
If you recognize where some of those first lines came from, kudos on excellent movie taste!
I wrote this with the intention of a follow-up - sometimes you just need to know sexting is an option for next time… :P
If ya'll have ideas or something you'd like to see, drop me a line on Tumblr (I'm dust2dust34), or in the comments/reviews!
Reviews literally feed my muse and soul.