Olicity - preferably pre-relationship. In which Oliver gives Felicity a totally platonic massage that ends up not being so….platonic (bokayjunkie)

"Ow!" Her yelp echoes across the foundry and Oliver instantly shoots off the seat he's taken at his worktable, practically running to her. His blood rushes through his veins, fear, agitation, and concern coursing through it until he's standing beside her desk as she rubs her back and shoulders with her hand.

"Felicity?" he asks, nearly breathless before squatting down next to her chair. "Are you okay?" Oliver has never heard a sound like that come from her lips. Having heard it now puts him on edge.

"I'm just… Ugh…" Felicity growls, actually growls, and something in his stomach swoops. That's another sound he's never heard come from her pretty pink lips, and suddenly he really wants to hear it again because it's so damn sexy. But then he chides himself for thinking those thoughts. They're just really good friends, nothing more. He shouldn't be thinking about her like that.

"I've been sitting here for far too long and between this and my day job, my back and shoulders are really starting to hurt," she continues, babbling away without noticing how his expression darkens. "What I wouldn't give for a good deep tissue massage right about now."

His mouth works faster than his brain when he replies, "I could give you one, if you want."

It's Oliver's turn to blush when her head whips in his direction, but it's soon replaced with concern when she visibly winces, her eyes screwing shut as she hisses. "Normally, I would think that's really pushing boundaries, but today, I'm thinking screw it… But not in the sexual way… More like in the 'to hell with it, I really need something to relieve my pain' kind of way… You know what I mean," Felicity mutters, stopping herself before she continues down that dangerous train of thought, especially since the images of her laying prone on a massage table, nearly naked, with his hands all over her begins to stir something in his cock he hasn't felt in a long time.

"I think a massage would be great," she says. Oliver knows he's screwed at this point. He's backed himself into a corner and now there's no way he'd back out, not when Felicity has already agreed. "So, where do you want me?" she asks, and suddenly her face is aflame. "I mean, for the massage."

It takes a moment for Oliver's brain to kick in, but when it does, he replies, "Your place?" Considering his place currently consists of the cot in the foundry, it makes the most sense to take her somewhere she feels comfortable.

"Oh-okay," Felicity stutters.

She's laid out on her bed, face down and in white panties but no bra, her head resting on her pillow, eyes closed. Oliver swallows thickly. It's his fantasy coming true, but he needs to restrain himself. He can't let this get out of hand. He can't let his little head do all the thinking. He needs a clear mind before he even thinks about putting his hands on her, so he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly, clearing the dirty thoughts that have cluttered his brain for the past hour.

When he opens his eyes again, they're assaulted by Felicity's bare skin looking so soft and so touchable. This was such a bad idea, Oliver realizes. All he wants to do is grab those white panties with his teeth and drag them down her supple thighs then bury his face in that glorious ass that's been taunting him for the past three years in her not-so-short skirts and skintight dresses. Fuck! He's so screwed. So very, very screwed. No amount of meditation or deep breathing will keep him from losing his mind as his hands run over those silken curves.

Screw it, Oliver thinks. Just so long as he keeps his jeans on, he can deal with the painful tightness in his groin as his hands soothe Felicity's tense muscles. "Ready?" he croaks, his voice cracking as he sidles up to the bed and looms over her body.

"Yep." Her reply is muffled by the pillow in her face.

Another deep breath, and he grabs the lotion she's set on her nightstand. A large dollop squirts into his hand and after rubbing it between his palms to coat them each in a fine layer, they reach for her shoulders. There's a tense knot there, and he immediately focuses on it, kneading the soft flesh in strong, gentle strokes. Oliver realizes that if he can keep his attention on the task at hand and find all the points at which her body hurts the most, he'll be able to get through this without all his blood rushing through his groin.

It works, and for the better half of an hour, he finds all of the tense muscles along Felicity's upper back and shoulders, kneading it away as his mind wanders onto other topics. She's quiet, too quiet, and Oliver thinks for a moment that maybe she's fallen asleep, that maybe, just maybe, he can quietly finish this up and leave without a word. But as he moves towards her lower back and the knotted muscles near her hips, a tiny moan escapes her lips.

Oliver's hands immediately still. He'd been doing so well up until that point, able to let his mind focus on other things while his hands were on autopilot. But upon hearing that little sound, he's suddenly brought back to the present and the very beautiful (and nearly naked) woman laying on her stomach in front of him. The woman who he's been pining for almost a year now. The woman the brings joy and sunshine back into his life.

"Keep going," Felicity encourages, snapping him out of his thoughts. Her voice is low and sultry, making his blood quickly rush to parts of his body that shouldn't be reacting right now. But Oliver can't help it. He knows he's in trouble. He knows there's no way he can say no to her, not when she expects him to finish this massage that he offered. So he tries to continue, working his hands along the small of her back and trying not to linger too long on one spot or another.

"Lower," she murmurs, but he doesn't know what she means by that.

"Uh…" Oliver stutters before swallowing hard.

"Thighs," Felicity answers.

Fuck…

Oliver does as he's told, moving lower, to her supple thighs, and begins to work them as he has her shoulders and back. They're smooth and soft, and he doesn't realize he spends so much time on them until he looks up to find Felicity's eyes lingering on his fingers. He can't decipher the expression on her face. For someone he can usually read like an open book, he feels unsettled at that moment. This isn't territory he's ever been in and he feels overly exposed and vulnerable as he watches her eyes track upward, over his forearms and biceps, lingering for just a moment before they find their way to his face and finally settle on staring at him with such an intensity that Oliver almost steps back.

When Felicity sits up, he's like a deer caught in headlights. His eyes widen as his mouth goes slack, watching her roll over onto her back, her arm covering her breasts. It's an enticing image, one that he knows will stay with him for eternity, until she reaches out and grabs a handful of his shirt. He's pulled toward her, tripping on his own two feet before landing on the bed with a soft, ungraceful thud. That's when he realizes his face is right in her lap, looking up at her in wonder and puzzlement.

The soft smile on Felicity's lips throws him for a moment, but then her arm moves away from her chest and suddenly everything is so unbelievably clear. It has to be a dream, Oliver thinks. There's no way this can be happening. He must be asleep or hallucinating. Maybe he's lost a lot of blood and is laying in an alley somewhere and his mind chooses to let him die happy. Whatever the case may be, he knows this can't be real.

And then she says, "Your hands were so amazing with my back. I wonder how they'll feel on my front." Now he knows he's dreaming. Felicity has made many innuendos in the years he's known her, but this one? It's far too direct and intentional.

"Pinch me," Oliver replies.

Instead, she giggles, and her hands end up on either side of his face, cupping his cheeks as she pulls him up so their lips meet. And it's just as amazing as he knew it would be. The kiss is soft, lingering, sucking him into the moment like a moth to a flame. He's on top of her in seconds, his body rolling over hers and pinning her to the bed. The intensity of the kiss moves from soft and exploratory, to deep and insesent in moments.

Felicity devours his lips, sucking and nipping before licking her tongue across the seam, and he opens to her immediately. Hands go everywhere: hair, face, chest, arms, hips… And then she's pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it to the floor beside the bed. Her fingers run up the seam of his jeans, cupping him through the rough material, and he groans. It's the best sensation Oliver has felt in a very long time, and he doesn't want it to stop.

What feels even better is when Felicity pops the button and slides the zipper down, freeing him of the painful restraint of his pants. Her fingers wrap around his cock moments later, soft, warm palms running up and down his sensitive skin, squeezing and pulling, teasing him to within inches of coming. Oliver wants more, needs more. So he takes. Just like her hands, his grope her breasts, kneading the supple mounds before pinching the nipples and forcing a moan from her throat.

It's that sound that nearly causes his undoing. He can't take it anymore. He needs to be inside her. Calloused fingers glide down her abdomen, hooking into her panties and dragging them down her thighs until she's naked beneath him. Felicity moans again, louder this time, and he swallows the sound with another deep, passionate kiss. He savors the taste of her cherry chapstick, mouth working over hers until she grabs clumps of his hair, holding him in place.

Oliver works his hand between their bodies, finding her sex and delving into it without warning. She cries out against his lips, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. Her body is primed and ready, cunt dripping with her slick juices, so warm and inviting. His fingers work in and out at a quick pace, and new sounds begin to fill his ears: sighs and groans and the occasional command. "Harder! Faster! Yes! Just like that! Oh, god! Oliver!"

His name on Felicity's lips sends him into overdrive and suddenly, his fingers aren't enough. His cock strains for attention, and she gives it to him, tightening her hold and she strokes him up and down, slowly but firmly. Fuck! It's almost too much, almost enough to make him come right then, but Oliver staves off his orgasm, instead focusing his attention on kissing his way down her neck and to her breasts.

Each nipple is given the attention it deserves, bitten to a stiff peak before he moves lower, his tongue and lips trekking down her abdomen, tasting her, licking her, dipping into her belly button and swirling around until her hips buck wildly. Then he's between her legs, his mouth where he's wanted it all night. The scent of her arousal is thick and heady, enough to make him dizzy with a new kind of need. He wants to taste her, eat her out, suck her dry, and he does.

As soon as his lips come into contact with her hot folds, she cries out. And then his tongue laps at her juices and she's screaming in pleasure. The sound is music to his ears, and he can't stop the smirk that makes its way to his lips. He continues to feast on her, tasting the sweet nectar of her arousal, practically drowning in it as his tongue lashes at her clit and finally throws her over the edge. She's a gusher, drenching his mouth and chin with her essence, but he suck away at it, drinking to the very last drop, until her legs have stopped quivering and her body rests atop the mattress.

"Mmm… So good," Felicity murmurs. She peeks down at him and smiles. "Can I taste you now?" she asks, giving him a cheeky grin.

Oliver returns it. Nope, he realizes, this definitely isn't a dream.