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"I used to fantasise about you, you know?" He says suddenly. "Before we got together, I mean. Back when I still had the company."
They are getting ready for bed after a long day at the end of an even longer week. Felicity has paused in the process of removing her earrings at their dresser. Her eyes flick up from behind her glasses to his in the mirror in front of her and she tilts her head.
He gets a flash of another time, with laptops and horrible lies.
"I know. Well, I mean I hoped, I guess. I never really thought about it too much. I just assumed your love for me was more gradual and less.. Lustful?" She finishes with a tone at the end questioning her own word choice. Her brow furrows in that adorable way only she can accomplish while only wearing sheer lace panties and a strapless bra.
He breathes out a chuckle and continues unbuttoning his shirt removing it and his jeans, "I can assure you, they were plenty lustful. And frequent." He lets out a slight groan and he makes his way over to her. "But they weren't always about sex. I sometimes thought about a future with you. One I never actually thought I could have." He bands his arms around her middle and drops a kiss to her shoulder, nuzzling slightly to feel her shudder at the touch of his stubble to her smooth skin.
She turns in his arms and lifts her own to loop around his neck. Leaning her head back slightly to look into his eyes, she asks him with a soft look in her eyes, "like what? What did you think about back then?"
His lips lift slightly in one corner, before pressing a quick kiss to her lips. His hands, that had been instinctually running up and down her spine, make their way south. Dragging his fingertips along the backs of her thighs, he asks her, "do you remember that grey dress you had, with the yellow squares on it?"
She nods with a small 'mhmm' and looks up expectantly for the reason for a sudden trip down fashion memory lane.
He brings his hands up slowly, tracing the curve of her thighs that leads into her delicious ass, and whispers, "I used to stare at your ass in that dress."
He can hear the sharp intake of breath as she reacts to both his words and his warm hands grabbing handfuls of her lush ass and kneading it with the perfect mix of strength and care.
"There was one day, I had just come back from the island -the second time- and we were arguing in the foundry. I don't remember why, it wasn't major but we were raising our voices. You were so fired up. In that cave we somehow made a home in, you were so confident. Enough even, to stand up to me. And then you walked off to calm down. I was still riled up and as you stalk away, all I could see was your amazing ass in that dress. I imagined pulling you back around to face me. Your eyes widening in surprise. And then, because my fantasies didn't need much those days, we would end up against a pillar. Your legs around my waist and your dress rucked up to your stomach."
Felicity moaned, her breath quickening ever so slightly.
He squeezed her ass one more time, before loosening his grip to let his hands run over her cheeks fluidly.
"But I would also watch you at the end of a night. You'd close down your computers and stand up, stretching and arching your back, making your ass look even more perfect. And I would imagine you waking up in the morning. Pressed up against me, as you stretch and rub your ass along my cock, not even knowing how easily you turn me on. And then both of us laying beside each other not needing to make love right then. Because we both know we have all the time in the world."
He smiles softly at the look of pleasure on her face, knowing she's as happy as he is that they now know what it feels like to have what he's describing.
Not wanting to end his fantasy story time, he begins to tell her of another one.
"Oh but as much as I loved that dress, I was quite fond of the orange one too. The brightest colour I've ever seen you wear, and you wore it beautifully. The skirt was so short that when you would bend over to check something on your computer in the executive lobby, I could see the barest hint of your ass. And that's when you bent over." He growled slightly and spun her around, his hands landing on her hips and gripping tightly. She gasped as he turned her and placed her hands on the dresser to steady herself.
"The day I promoted you to my ass--"
"Promoted, my ass. That was not even close to--"
"Felicity."
"Right, sorry. Continue"
He brought her hips back, with a slow grind against his pelvis, just to regain his focus.
"You were questioning my decision, with one hand on your hip. One eyebrow raised and a look on your face that was equal parts 'I'm going to slap him' and 'I'm going to destroy his credit score'. And I had the image of you bent over your desk with your skirt flicked up. My hands on your hips as I fuck you, each thrust trying to tell you how much I need you close to me when words weren't available to me"
Throughout the telling of his fantasy, he has been slowly bringing her hips back to meet his. Grinding against her ass and feeling the soft flesh on every inch of his half hard cock.
Her fingers grip the dresser, and in the mirror he can see her eyes fall to half mast, lust overtaking her expression.
With his famed muscle control making an appearance outside of the leather, he pulls himself back slightly, so his body is still against her but no longer pressed skin to skin. She keens, and tries to push her hips back onto him, stopped only by the firm grip he has on her hips. He chuckles lowly, his ego and cock swelling at her obvious need for him.
"Hush, love. We are nowhere near finished." He mutters in her ear, his breath warming her face and flushing her cheeks.
He relaxes his hands and begins to sway the two of them, leaning to the side briefly before bring them back and then repeating. Over and over, until she leans back into him, her head falling to his shoulder and moving with him.
"Sometimes, I would lean against the table in the foundry, after a mission. You would have your earbuds in and be dancing to some upbeat song, your hips swaying and your arms moving with the rhythm. I could never hear the song but I could picture us. In the kitchen. Our kitchen. Me leaning against the counter. A radio on the windowsill playing whatever station you felt was calling you that morning. You'd have flour in your hair, and only be wearing my shirt. And you'd be dancing for me. Over exaggerated dance moves not intended to be sexy but meant to draw the laugh from me that you always seem to get. And we look so happy." He keeps swaying them, for a few beats longer. The tune in his head matching the beat of their hearts as they take a moment to recognise they are just as happy as he dreamed.
He slowly brings them to a stand still, one arm banded around her middle where they had come to rest during their impromptu dance, the other straying up her stomach, making her muscles twitch and her chest expand with a gasp.
"But my favourite dress. Of all those dresses that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Was the purple one."
"Which one", she says in a breathless whisper. "I had a couple of those"
"Hmm, the one with the triangle cut out." He says, tracing one long finger up through the middle of her breasts, catching on her bra slightly. "The one that I called 'easy access' in my head.
"Oh really?" Felicity asks, her tone as suggestive as the roll of her hips back into him.
"Mhmm, and that dress played a role in most of my fantasies in my office. The number times I sat in my chair looking between you and the window of my office. Imagining you pressed up against the glass."
He pauses to lean down and lick a stripe along the curve of neck, simultaneously flicking open her bra. Bringing his hand back around to delve into the now loose cup and lightly caress her nipple.
"I wouldn't even have to remove it. Just reach into your dress, and flick or pinch your nipples while I fuck you from behind. Hands flat on the glass, breasts pushed upwards and ass pushed out. The perfect position for me to feel your orgasm all along my body."
She was pushing her chest into his hand now, quietly moaning. She wasn't trying to escalate his movements any, and he was glad she was playing along with his game of push and pull between the dirty fantasies and the loving ones.
He pinched her nipple once, twice more and then moved his hand to envelop her entire breasts, lifting his other hand to join the first. With both hands now massaging her full breasts, he sighed, head falling to her shoulder and he fought to keep the control he needed to finish the game he started.
"I remember waking up after an almost failed mission, not on the med table like usual, but on the couch. With my head on your chest. You'd fallen asleep while waiting with me. My head had fallen off your shoulder where you'd put it and was pillowed on your breasts. I could almost hear the soft rustling of trees and the sound of kids laughing as I imagined the two of us in a park somewhere leaning up against a tree, you reading a book aloud to me. And perhaps even later still, the sight of our child, leaning against you with their blonde hair on your chest as you read them a bed time story. It felt so real and so.. possible, that I immediately jumped up and left. I couldn't bear to dream of something so unattainable at that time. I'm so thankful that you prove me wrong every day." He took a stuttered breath to calm the unexpected rush of emotions that came with the thought of their, impossibly possible, future children.
She turned around then, and soothed him, with one hand on his neck and the other on his cheek. Her thumb tracing his eyebrow in that calm way he has begun to associate with her attempt to show her love when she is rarely unable to find the words.
With a hard kiss to her mouth, he gathered himself and brought the heat back into their embrace. She opened her mouth willingly to him, his tongue diving in to move against hers in a move so practiced and yet still so thrilling. With steady hands, he gathered up her hair into one hand and traced the forefinger of his free hand down her neck onto her collarbone.
She broke the kiss with a gasp, drawing in deep breaths to steady herself for what she now knew to be the sexual side of his fantasies.
He tightened his grip to just shy of painful and used it to angle her head and bare her neck to him.
"I would sometimes watch your ponytail bounce and sway when you walked. I would catch myself reaching out to brush against it while I stood behind your computer chair. Only to start imagining it wrapped around my fist as I pound into you, the rougher I am, the more you beg me to go harder. And sometimes I would have to leave the foundry, go for a patrol to beat out some of the pent up energy from the fucking that my mind shows my body but my body never receives." He places hot, open mouth kisses along the line of her neck, sucking every so often and marking her the way she likes.
He starts to relaxes his fingers and press his lips to her skin more gently, lovingly. And she sighs into his touch.
"I used to stare at your hair during those galas we were forced to go to. All the complicated twists and knots that seemed to hold several hundred pins and an entire bottle of hairspray. And I would picture the two of us. Sitting cross legged on our bed. Your eyes closed as you talk to me about nothing, anything really. I would take down every last pin and brush your hair until it shone. Taking far longer than I needed to. And you would have this little smile, like you knew I was just dragging it out but you let me, because you knew how content I was simply because you were.
He drags his hands through her hair, pressing gently on her scalp in a familiar way that shows how many times they've already done exactly what he's described, with varying details but always the same contented result.
She moans and nuzzles into his hands like the purring kitten he constantly compares her to, and slowly opens her eyes and lifts up onto her toes to press a slow languid kiss to his mouth as a thank you. For the quick massage, for all those previous and for all those to come.
Breaking away, he smiles at her. The small turn of his lips growing as he focuses on her glasses, the light catching on them as she turns her face up to him.
Her eyes flash and she anticipates the next fantasy, thighs pressing together as she is reminded of how aroused this game of memories has made her.
He moves them away from the dresser, and backs her up to the bed. As she lays down, her legs spread instinctively to accommodate him. He practically stalks up her body until he is pressed completely up against her and his face is hovering above her own.
"I don't know how my mind conjured this particular image, but it was a frequent scenario in my head. The two of us working late in the foundry one night, the middle of summer and we are both just dripping from the heat. We end up on the cot together because the foundry is cooler than your house or mine, and you refuse to let me sleep on the floor. Through some unimaginative turn of events, I'm kissing you thoroughly and deeply. The heat from both our bodies causing your glasses to fog up and you pause only to throw them aside before tugging my lips back to yours. My mind needlessly conjures the image of us fucking, sweat making our bodies slide against one another easily." He punctuates the sentence with an obscene roll of his body, from his hips up through his abs so she feels every hard line of his toned body.
She writhes beneath him, and moans appreciatively. As he moves onto his knees to straddle her legs, and lifts his torso away from her, she groans in frustration at the realisation that he is still not finished with his game. He smirks at her reaction and leans in to kiss and lick the frown her mouth has set into.
He bring one hand up to trace the frames of her glasses, reverently because to him they are as a part of her as her own flesh and blood. His lips twitch as she eyes his left arm, now bulging slightly with the increased weight added by lifting his right hand. He has always been proud of his strength and the way she eyes his body with heat and unabashed desire.
"I would watch you push your glasses up your nose while working on lines of code. Distracted, like it was second nature. And I would imagine a late Sunday afternoon. The setting sun coming through our kitchen window. Your hands in the sink washing up, and me beside you, drying dishes. And as though it was the most normal thing, I would reach over and push your glasses up for you, after tapping you on the nose because it's cute and squished from trying to keep the glasses from falling. And you'd splash me with the soapy water, your laughter ringing out around me."
Felicity beamed up at him, knowing that as his stories progressed, he was giving her more of himself. The quiet dreams he kept to himself, that he never dared to think about beyond a dream. And that she was able to help make them true, was a blessing she never stopped thanking any higher being who would listen.
He relaxed his arms and body to lay further on top of her, while still holding himself to not crush her. With the returned contact, he brought his lips to hers. Small, little presses gave way to deeper strokes, and as their lips continued to move against one another, their bodies followed suit. When he broke away suddenly to remove their remaining underwear, Felicity sighed with total and audible relief. He could tell she had been teased enough, and so with one last story he gave into her supple body.
"Back when I met you, I remember thinking I had never seen one woman wear so many different colour lipsticks before. They were bright, and perfectly you. I remember watching you twirl a pen around in your mouth, your tongue peeking out every so often. Rose pink between fuchsia or red." He said evenly, while slowly moving the head of his cock through her slick folds.
She looked up at him through her lashes and drags her top teeth down and along her bottom lip, finishing in a long swipe of her pink tongue along the kiss-bruised flesh.
He groaned at the sight, the show she had put on for him, and felt his hips thrust erratically to press his cock further into her.
"Fuck, you are so sexy. Those lips are a near constant star in my fantasies. Every scenario, my mind conjures the image of your brightly coloured lips wrapped around my cock. Your lipstick smudged as you lick and suck me. On your knees with your hair around my hand, allowing me to fuck your mouth. Or in the foundry with me pressed against the pillar. Or my personal favourite, on your knees in my office, my pants undone and my cock big and hard in front of your mouth."
He is beginning to break the pace of the story now, distracted by the glorious feeling of her tight wet heat surrounding him. They lose themselves in each other for a few moments, hard thrusts meeting soft skin and moans mingling with grunts and whimpers.
Surprisingly, it is her who slows them down. With the simple touch of her small hand on his chest, he slows his thrusts and looks at her, quirking his eyebrow in question. She looks down and away slightly, managing to look unbelievably shy while his hard cock is still throbbing slightly inside her. And he knows what she wants. The last fantasy. The last loving thought that accompanies his dirty mind.
He lifts one hand from beside her head where it has been steadying him, and traces her top lip gently with his forefinger. As he drags it around her lips, it catches on her bottom lip, pulling it out slightly before releasing and pausing long enough for her to press a quick kiss to the tip of his finger.
He resumes thrusting, this time opting for long and measured strokes. Dragging his cock through her walls so they both feel every inch of each other. Ending each inward thrust with a sharp jolt and rotating his hips slightly each time he withdraws to just the tip.
"The most common fantasy. The one on my mind almost every second of every day. Was the desire to kiss your lips. Kisses that spoke all the words I couldn't." He spoke softly now, everything about their fervent coupling now tempered down to a slow steady burn. "Kisses that said thank you, good morning, you're welcome, hello, goodbye, I want you, I need you, be safe. Kisses that were slow and soft, or hard and fast. Filthy and chaste. Familiar yet always tingling. Some given through a smile, and some through tears. And I would hope for the day that I would lose count and give up finding a reason. And we would kiss because what else can two soul mates do but love each other any way they know how."
Each kiss he lists, is accompanied by a press of his lips to her. Along her chin, down her neck, across her cheek, atop each of her breasts, and finally on her mouth.
As the kiss grows heated, their shared peak grows nearer. They break the kiss but remain close together, their breath joining and getting quicker.
Small pants leave her mouth and her hands begin a desperate scramble for purchase on his muscled chest and shoulders.
He keeps the pace slow but thrusts harder, his head now falling to her breast as he feels the familiar tightening in his groin.
She gasps out his name in a rush, her body bowing under the force of her sudden orgasm, drawn out by the continued pace of his thrusts. He lifts his head to meet her lips in a quick unrefined kiss and then groans her name, deep and loving as he empties himself within her. His hips stutter slightly as his orgasm draws to a close.
They slow their movements and relax into the mattress, her arms coming around his shoulders in an embrace that says both thank you and please stay awhile.
Oliver relaxes further into her arms and breathes out her name again, that says you're welcome and I'm not going anywhere.
Because as far as he's concerned, why would he go anywhere when he has his fantasy right here.
The end.