She watched him walk stiffly away and knew that he struggled with their situation. Yes, she knew him well enough to know that he was quietly suffering and would keep suffering because he almost craved the pain.

His smile no longer reached his eyes, though she knew he'd tried to hide it from her, while she didn't know the last time she'd heard him laugh. She'd even tried to make him laugh or smile in the last month. Not that it worked most days for as she'd watched he'd become more and more introverted, and she knew she was making him crazy. She knew that not being with her was totally hard on him, but then it was hard on both of them.

Yet, she refused to give in, refused to make this easy for him. He had lied to her, not trusted her and he deserved this.

However, her blood quickened as she watched him scrub his scruffy face and wished she could just stop wanting him, wished she could turn it off. Every time he got close, every time she smelled him, she found she ached to climb him like a tree, that she wanted to reach for his belt, unbutton his pants and free him, then push him against any hard surface and take him quick and rough.

And it took ever thing she had not to give in, not to take him.

Oh, how he had spoiled her.

His very scent turned her on, made her aching wet for him.

He used to touch her on a regular basis. Small touches to her shoulder, her arm, her hand and her body and he'd dropped loving small kisses on top of her head, or on her face, her shoulders, and the back of her neck.

And now if he touched her, it was all she could do not to push him against any available flat surface, so she jerked away from him, since she had to refrain, had to make herself hold back.

However, before Oliver, she'd never thought of herself as excessively sexual but now she knew better. Oliver Queen had completely ruined her. Okay, she was seeing Peter, and she honestly liked the man, was trying her very best to really, truly like the man, but she couldn't stop comparing him to Oliver. And he was not only a cop, but a detective, and he was the one person that she wasn't being anywhere honest with.

No, she was totally lying to him.

And yes, the man was a straight shooter too, but he wasn't against the Green Arrow. He simply wasn't Oliver Queen.

They had been dating over a month now and clearly Peter wanted them to sleep together. He was a man, of course, he wanted the psychical part of a relationship, and she did like him. The man could make her smile and laugh at the most unexpected times. She enjoyed his company and him hers. And it wasn't that he was rushing her into sex, though she had to admit that his kisses were nice enough, enough heat to be pleasant, but they didn't set her on fire like Oliver's.

Damn Oliver Queen's hot needy mouth.

But she knew that she couldn't allow a relationship with Oliver to continue, not after he'd lied to her. Not after he hadn't trusted her. Oliver was never going to change, and she'd accepted that. Her Oliver was dark where Peter was light. Peter was funny where Oliver was serious and intense. And so far Peter hadn't lie to her and Oliver, even after all they'd been through together, he'd still lied to her and not just for a little while but for months, fracking MONTHS. The worst part was he had continued to lie even after Malcolm Merlyn knew, even after Thea had known.

Now that was the greatest hurt of all.

"Damn him," she said out loud as she watched him shove the outside door hard, almost attack the door as she watched his anger shimmer off his body like a living thing as he walked though, and she could understand as she consciously pulled her own anger at him closer.

"Let me get your receipt." The man turned and disappeared in a door behind the desk.

Tapping her pink painted nails against the desk, she waited, while thinking she could have built a computer in the time this man was taking to get her a receipt.

Her phone chimed and glancing, she saw Peter's blonde head, all toothy smile, come up.

The man was very cute in his own way. With a swipe of her finger, she opened the text, and she grinned as she read, "Hey beautiful, I'm sitting here thinking of u. And u r hot. I miss u!"

"Awe, that's sweet." Her fingers flew on the smart phone as she hit send.

Peter made her smile, and he knew how to make her blush. Where Oliver had hardly ever told her she was even pretty, Peter gushed over how lovely she was. Where Oliver hardly ever commented on her clothes, Peter loved her outfits and told her he adored the way she dressed. Where Oliver never noticed that her makeup matched her clothes, Peter commented on her color combinations. He even noted her shoes, doing it so many times that sometimes she wondered if he was gay, but she pushed that thought back, way back.

Where Oliver never thought to give her anything but work, okay there had been that fern, but Peter gave her silly things like stuffed animals, glow bracelets and cotton candy.

However, where Peter didn't seem to be lying to her, unfortunately she was lying to him pretty much all of the time.

But she tried to not think about that fact. It was necessary.

When Peter asked how she spent her evenings, she evaded by biting her lip and making up a story, and she knew that she'd straight out lied to him.

Just like this trip.

Ding came the text. "Hope ur friend is feeling better?"

Frowning, she found her thumbs hesitated. How to not lie but yet not tell the truth, she wondered as she texted, "Yeah. Tks."

Okay, she wasn't visiting a sick friend. No, she was here with Oliver visiting the priestess again. Not that Oliver'd wanted her to come. Indeed, he'd seriously tried to hide John Constantine's call from her and had only told her about it after she'd directly asked him who'd called because she could clearly see he was stressing out. And Oliver was going out of his way not to lie to her, though she was still finding he was lying by omission part of the time. Which just proved to her that he was never going to change.

And sweet, funny Peter was hard to resist after brooding, serious Oliver.

Who, speak of the devil, had just jerked the door open like he wanted to kill it, like he needed to draw first blood, and she sighed.

Then she groaned as she watched him quickly school his face when he realized she was still in the lobby.

"Problems?" Here came his fake small smile.

"He's went after my receipt and the key cards. I swear he's slower than Christmas. I could have built two computers and three printers by now. And wrote some great code, besides."

The man chose that moment to walk through the back door and handed her the receipt along with two key cards.

Crinkling her nose, she realized that he smelled like cigarettes and she almost gagged.

"Your room's on the fourth floor. Room 408. None smoking."

"Maybe you should think about the patch or maybe vaping because you reek, " she said. Turning sharply on her high heels, she punched the elevator button, while she refused to look at him and wondered if things could get any more unconformable between them then right now.

The elevator whooshed open and both of them stepped inside.

Instantly, she thought about the time that he'd pressed the elevator's stop button at Palmer Tech and then taken her in his arms. It had been totally out of his controlled personality and the closest he'd ever come to loosing control, as he'd turned and pressed her against the wall with the words, "I need you now. Please let me. I have to touch you. I can't stop."

Then he'd ignored the alarms as he'd kissed her into a sweet melting mess right before he'd ripped her panties from her, with one smooth moment.

In a quick Oliver motion, he'd loosed his belt, dropped his pants, gave her slit a swipe to make she she was wet for him and then violently, almost brutally thrust himself powerfully into her while he'd enveloped her, surrounded her with himself and his love.

And she'd found that she'd had to cum almost instantly as he'd picked up the pace and smothered her with his intense love, while whispering how much her adored her in her ear.

She reddened as she remembered his sweet words.

Yes, she remembered that if there was one thing he was good at, it was at making her cum. It seemed almost his hobby sometimes. He'd hold himself back for an insane long time as he worked her over, using his mouth and his body to make her cum over and over before he would allow himself to follow.

It was like he needed to excel at making her cum. He made it a test almost, as he held his pleasure back, until he made her scream, repeatedly make her scream and only then would he allow himself to topple over the edge.

His control was a thing of wonder, and he always put her first, even if she could tell sometimes he barely hung by a thread, if he grasp her too tightly as he struggled to hold on, even if she tried to push him over the edge.

And now she wondered how Peter would make love with her. Would he be soft and gentle or ravish her?

Not had Oliver had once truly lost control with her. Even when she'd pushed him hard against a wall or a pillar had Oliver lost his control and screwed her with abandon.

And she had gotten to the point that she wanted him to go crazy, wanted him to lose his control.

But, no, he'd always slowed the pace and his trembling hands, the only sign that she affected him, would pull her close and made love with her, not to her but always with her, even if he'd held her so tightly that she'd found that he'd bruised her the next day. Even as he'd whispered how much he loved her, how special she was to him, he'd controlled himself.

Oh, but she'd missed him, and she saw his hand tremble, saw his small tick in his hand before he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, as they stood in silence and watched the floors' light change as they climbed higher.

Then the elevator jerked to a stop. And an alarm went off along with the lights as she found himself in his arms as he pulled her into his embrace.

"Seriously, Oliver? Let me go. It's just a black out." Instantly, she found herself much too warm, and she quickly pushed away from him, away from his solid chest.

"Sorry, reflex. I was just steading you." His voice came out harsh. "I don't know how not to take care of you. What do you want me to say?"

She took a step back. "I want you to back off. I can take care of myself."

"I never said you couldn't. And I'm trying."

Her phone lit up, and Peter's face illuminated the dark space, and she swore he growled like a wild animal that was in pain.

Swiping the screen, she read, "What r u wearing babe? Show me."

"Oh, frack," she pressed the phone's screen against her breasts hiding his words but she knew he had already seen.

"I can't keep doing this unless you want me to kill him." His words were harsh. "I can't take much more, Felicity. When are you going to be done punishing me?"

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Don't I ever get a second chance? Please can we talk about this? I'm not doing well here. All I can thing about is KILLING him."

"You've had more than one chance, Oliver, and your lies ruined us. We're over. And you'd better leave him alone."

"And what are you doing now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean with Peter. You're no better than me, only you meant more to me and always will."

"Shut up, Oliver. I don't want you to tell me that. We're over."

"No, I won't. So it's okay to lie to Peter? Aren't you currently lying to your detective? You're no better than me."

"I mean it, Oliver, be quiet."

"Why? Are you telling him what you do at night? Does he know why you're here in Sin City? Does he even know you're with me? He doesn't does he? You're no different than me. In truth, you're just like me when I was lying to McKenna Hall. Do you remember her?"

"That cop you were dating. Yeah, I remember."

"Well lies are still lies, Felicity. At least I was hiding a son. What about you?"

"Yeah, one you refused to share with me."

The elevator chose that instant to blindingly roar to life, and she snubbed him as the door whooshed open, and stiff backed, she stepped out and hurried down the hall.

Swiping her card, the light on the door turned green, and she swung the door open. Stepping into the room, she froze in her tracks as she took in the queen size bed.

It was a beauty. Her eyes swept red and black covers. She saw the bed was filled with several red pillows and the bed instantly reminded her of their very first night together in Nanda Parbat.

"Oliver." His name slipped out breathlessly.

Entering the room behind her, he gave a swift intake of breath. Moving, he violently slammed their luggage on the coffee table, then he turned abruptly on his heel and stalked out of the room, throwing the words over his shoulder, "I'll be back later," as he left her standing looking at that bed, while he banged the door so hard that it rattled on its hinges in his wake.

And she struggled with the sudden need to cry.

Moving in a fit of motion, she ripped the comforter and pillows from the bed and stuffed them into the closet and slammed the door hard, like she could shut a door on that part of her life, like she could make it all go away, like she could pretend that Oliver'd never happened, never touched her life.

Helplessly, she then sank into the floor and unable to stop, she sobbed for what could have been, for them because heaven help her she still loved him.

#####OQ#####