This was born out of two things: a) apparently having a cold means the muse gets activated, and b) I'm currently obsessed with Slade. And wondered what Slade/Felicity might look like. So I wrote it. But since I love my Olicity as well, I tried a variation on a theme. Chapter 1-Slacity. Chapter 2-Olicity. Neither are related except for the theme. Also, ageofaquarius deserves thanks for her encouragement and support!


Felicity sighed as she sipped her drink, hoping the cool liquid would curb the heat pressing against her skin. It had to be close to 90 degrees inside the seedy nightclub in one of the worst area of Metropolis. But of course it was packed to the gills, people pressed against each other like sardines. She'd lost track of Chloe about a half hour ago, although she was pretty sure her friend could take care of herself. Plus, that was half the reason they'd gone out tonight, to try and forget about the men making their lives hell. And while she gave Club Zero an "A" for its drinks, the insane number of people inside had to be illegal.

She'd managed to stake out a seat at the bar somehow, but had spent the better part of the last

half hour fending off drunken advances. It didn't help that her own body was so wired that every move made her tense. Add to that the fact she'd had several more drinks than usual, to beat the heat, she told herself, and she was feeling nicely buzzed.

Unfortunately, this also meant her mind had focused back on Oliver. Which was the exact opposite of what she'd wanted to happen when she'd headed for Metropolis for the weekend. She wanted to forget how hard it was getting to see Oliver every day and night and not run her hands across his incredibly sculpted chest and back, planting kisses along each scar she came across, hearing him moan with desire at the feel of her lips on his skin.

It wasn't helped by the fact that since his dalliance with Isabel in Russia, and the subsequent "I can't be with someone I could care about" conversation, she'd been feeling frustrated. It wasn't so much that she didn't understand Oliver's reluctance about having a deeper relationship, be it with her, or Laurel, or anyone. But she also thought she knew him better than most, and it frustrated her that he could make all the decisions about who would or would not be hurt in a potential relationship. Not that he was in any state to have a meaningful relationship with anyone, but that wasn't the point.

Then there was the whole Barry situation. She'd actually been attracted to Barry and hoped that maybe, if Oliver wasn't stepping up to the plate, she could have some fun with the younger man. And despite his calling her out on her having feelings for Oliver, she had to admit, she'd been willing to explore if Barry had been willing to participate. Of course, after he'd called her and told her he'd be available for a date if she wanted, he had to go get knocked comatose by a bolt of lightning. Way to put a damper on her growing libido.

Because she could admit that it wasn't exactly fun to be the only one on Team Arrow not getting any. Digg and Lyla were always busy making up for lost time and she was truly happy for them. But she wouldn't be human if she didn't admit to a smidgeon of jealousy at seeing how happy and satisfied Digg looked most days.

Oliver, well, she didn't know if he and Isabel had hooked up again, although the older woman implied that they had, and made no effort to hide the fact she wouldn't mind another go-round with Oliver, and delighted in telling Felicity how little she meant to Oliver when he obviously preferred her. She'd barely managed to stop herself from strangling Isabel, but was pleased she'd learned to control those baser urges.

And then there was Laurel. Oliver had been so immersed in helping her figure out if Blood was the man in the mask, then doubting her when he turned out not to be, then blaming himself for her spiral into drug and alcohol abuse, that he spent most of his time with her, trying to get her through the worst of it. Not that she could blame him, she knew Oliver still felt, well, she wasn't sure what, but something, for Laurel. And she truly wanted the other woman to get help. But the whole 'destined to be together Laurel/Oliver' story was getting old. Not that she expected Oliver to be with her, but she was tired of not having anyone.

Especially when she was a young, healthy woman who hadn't had sex in months. And it was beginning to affect her daily life. She knew she'd surprised Digg and Oliver when she'd snapped at them more than once in the past month. She couldn't help it, when she was sexually frustrated, she lashed out. She was only glad neither of them had seemed to realize the true reason behind her emotional outburst. Although how any woman was supposed to not get turned on when Oliver was doing the salmon ladder, without a shirt, muscles gleaming with sweat…

"Another?"

The bartender's voice brought her out of her thoughts and she realized she'd finished her drink and was now staring moodily into her empty glass. Nodding, she forced her gaze to take in the scenery, eyes on the prowl for anyone who could help her relive the tension that was beginning to swamp her body. It didn't help that half the people on the crowded, darkened dance floor were obviously having quite a good time, rubbing up against each other. This club was known for its "anything goes" atmosphere and she had to admit, it turned her on.

So why wasn't she out there? Wasn't that the point of coming to Metropolis, far away from anyone she might know in Starling City? And when she spotted Chloe, grinding against a tall, well-built man on the dance floor, she knew it was time to let loose and have some fun. After all, how was she supposed to ease her more sensual urges if she was sitting at the bar?

Downing the drink that had appeared without her notice in front of her, she slid off the stool and pushed her way onto the crowded dance floor. She could feel the excitement curling through her body as she began to undulate to the beat, feeling hands and bodies press against then move away from her. When she finally found a spot where she could move freely, she closed her eyes and let the music flow over her body. Hopefully, an attractive, horny male would see her and well, she'd see where it went from there.

She felt her heart rate accelerate as a strong pair of hands suddenly slid around her waist and pulled her back against a very well-muscled body. For just a moment, she wondered if it was Oliver, and her heart skipped a beat. But as she moved with her new dance partner, she realized he didn't feel quite right. But it wasn't going to stop her from enjoying herself.

Letting desire run through her, she moved against the hard, strong body, grinding against it as heated breath tingled across her neck. Hands ran down her sides and across her stomach, rising to cup her breasts as she continued to undulate against him.

She was just beginning to really enjoy the moment when she felt the arms disappear from around her. Frowning, she whirled around to see what had changed…and found her breath taken away by the man that suddenly pulled her tightly into his arms.

The first thing she noticed was that he wore and eye-patch. The second was that he made it look a hell of a lot sexier than any TV or movie pirate she'd ever seen. It probably helped that the rest of his face seemed to resemble a Greed god, all chiseled lines and cheekbones, strong and sexy, and covered with stubble that she could suddenly imagine running her hands over. There was grey at each of his temples, but instead of making him look older, she found it made him look even more dangerous and sexy. And the way he was looking at her, well, if she hadn't been turned on already, she was definitely turned on now.

Then there was his body, which she could feel completely pressed to hers as they moved together on the dance floor. He was built like…well, a Greek god. She really couldn't come up with any other words for the body that moved against hers. His arms were muscled and strong as they banded about her waist, his chest wider then even Oliver's. He was muscled everywhere and she wondered if his abs were as ripped as Oliver's. Probably, judging by how they felt pressed against her.

All thoughts of Oliver left her mind however as the hot stranger slid a leg between hers and dipped her backwards, pressing his thigh directly against her aching, now soaked center. She whimpered, her eyes closing as she arched instinctively against him. Her eyes flew open as he pulled her up and into his body, his hand cupping the back of her head, tugging on her hair to pull her gaze to his.

The raw heat she saw there made her whimper. The way he was looking at her, well, it was enough to make any girl beg him to take her right there. She also realized in that moment that the eye-patch only made this entire moment sexier. She'd always had a pirate fantasy. She wanted to say something but wasn't sure what. Every nerve in her body was on edge and she knew, as she looked at him, exactly what he wanted.

Because she wanted it too.

Normally, she wasn't the type of person to have sex with a stranger, at least not without having him at least buy her a drink first. But there was something about this man, the way he felt pressed against her, that told her to throw caution to the winds. It had been so long since anyone had looked at her like that, and even longer since her body had responded so completely and so passionately.

"Follow me."

His words were intense, heavy, and clearly audible to her ears, including the accent she was pretty sure was Australian. Suddenly, he became three times hotter. She'd always had a thing for accents. And without stopping to consider anything other than her body's cues, she took his outstretched hand and let him pull her through the crowded dance floor and towards the dark, back corner of the club where they wouldn't be so publicly on display.

Saying nothing else, he led her through the throngs of people, his grip on her hand never loosening. Despite the desire swamping her body, she had a moment of doubt, wondering what she was doing. This was definitely not like her.

Her brain short-circuited then as she felt him pull her against him, whirling her around until her back hit the wall of the nightclub. Before she could even utter a gasp of shock, his lips were crushing hers, and her entire world exploded into a calliope of colors and sound.

Without thinking, she kissed him back, her tongue tangling with his as his hands slid across her neck and into the top of her blouse. She moaned against his lips as his hands began to stroke and knead her sensitive skin, while continuing to learn every corner and crevice of her mouth. He pressed her back against the wall, his hips grinding against hers, the evidence of his desire rubbing against her thighs.

She could feel herself liquefy, wanting nothing more than to feel all of him. Consequences be damned. He'd sought her out, she was sure of it, although she couldn't have told you why. She'd be damned if she didn't respond. After months and months of frustration, she'd never felt better, freer, more alive.

Reaching up, she ran her hands through the stubble on his jaw, lips locked on his as she scraped her nails against his skin. The moan she felt reverberate against her made her feel powerful. Her hands moved to brush over his eye-patch before moving to tangle in the hair at his temples, clutching it and bringing him closer as their tongues battled for dominance. She felt his hand on her leg, bringing it up to wrap around his thigh, the move rucking her skirt up to her waist, the only thing between them now the lace of her panties and the denim of his jeans.

Suddenly, she needed to feel him against her more than she needed to breathe. Reaching down, she struggled with his zipper, fingers fumbling as she felt the heat of him straining through the material. Pulling back, gasping for breath, she cupped him through the denim, delighting in the growl she drew from deep in his throat, his gaze intense. She cried out as he reached for her hips, slamming them into his as she arched against him. The denim rubbing against her now soaked panties was driving her crazy and she knew if she didn't feel him, skin to skin, and soon, she would lose it right then and there.

She was ready to beg when she looked up at him again. Her breath caught at the expression on his face. Desire yes, but something else, something primitive, and maybe, something possessive? Her body shook as they stared at each other. She had the feeling he was trying to tell her something, but she didn't know what, and right now, she didn't care. She just needed him, against her, inside her, sating the desire she hadn't realized was so overpowering until right now.

"You sure you're ready for this?" The sensually whispered words nearly sent her over the edge. Was he insane? Couldn't he see how ready she was? She struggled for the words to tell him, but all that came out was a whimpered "please!"

She gasped into his mouth as his lips took hers again and his hands slid to her waist. She cried out as she felt his mouth move to her collarbone, stubble prickling against her soft skin an exquisite ecstasy as his hands slid the scrap of lace she wore underneath her skirt down her legs. She barely felt him tear it off as her bare mound was suddenly pressed against him, pulsing, hard, and hot through his jeans. There was no foreplay, no time for discovery, nothing but heated feelings and emotions.

This time, her fingers were swift and fast as she found his zipper and pulled it down. His groan as she cupped him in her palm music to her ears. The pounding beat of the music was in her blood as she started to stroke him in rhythm to the music, amazed at the feel of soft skin over hard steel. His breath was coming in gasps as he sucked on the skin of her neck. She'd have a hickey there tomorrow, but didn't care. Right now, tonight, there was only the desire and the need, one she'd kept inside for far too long.

"Now," she heard him growl as he reached down and cupped her ass, pulling her up until both legs wrapped around him and he was pressing her back into the wall, hot and heavy at her entrance. Seconds later, he slid into her, hard and powerful. Her scream was drowned out by the music around them and she threw her head back, uncaring of the slight pain as it hit the wall.

He felt incredible inside her. It had been far too long since she'd had a man, and she'd forgotten just how wonderful it felt. For a moment, she savored the sensation before the urge to move took over.

"Please, fuck me," she whimpered as she arched her hips into him, taking him in even deeper. He growled again as he pulled back, then slammed into her, lips taking hers in a frantic, savage kiss.

She cried out against his mouth as he began to move. His strokes were quick and hard, each one driving deeper and deeper. She paid no attention to the pain she felt as each thrust shoved her hard against the wall, the pain lost in the pleasure of his hard, quick moves and the feel of him slamming into her. She cried out again when she felt him slip a hand between them and tug at her clit. The sensation was almost unbearable and she knew she went a little wild against him. But it had been so long, and it felt so good…

"Please, now," was all she managed as she felt herself nearing the peak, knowing she needed release desperately, craving it, and craving the man that could give it to her.

With a moan and one more hard thrust, he sent her over the edge. He muffled her cry by taking her lips again. She felt herself flying, lost to everything but the pleasure around her, filling her, absorbing her. He continued to thrust inside her several more times before his body shook against her and she felt him fly over the edge as well, ripping his lips from hers to bury his head against her neck.

She held him close as they slowly returned to their surroundings, feeling her muscles pull as he slowly regained movement, and gently lowered her to the ground. For a moment, they stared at each other. What wasn't said in that moment would stay with her for a long time to come, filling her memory and giving her many sleepless nights. Somehow, despite everything, even how crazy it sounded, she sensed this man understood her. Understood her frustrations, her desires, her needs. Maybe even better than she did.

She sighed as something changed in his gaze as he leaned down and kissed her gently, still passionate but without the urgency of before. In a way, it almost felt like he was apologizing for their rough, almost violent coupling. Not that she was complaining, it was the best sex she'd had in years. If ever.

When he finally pulled back, he ran a finger across her cheek, before reluctantly letting her go and moving to fix his jeans. She refused to acknowledge the sliver of regret she felt at the loss of his body heat as she moved to pull her skirt down, enjoying the feel of her bare thighs rubbing together. The loss of a pair of underwear was a small price to pay for the experience they'd just shared. Once she was presentable, she couldn't help but reach up and run her fingers over his cheekbones, committing them to memory, unsure if she'd ever see him again.

"Thank you," he murmured, reaching to place his hand over hers, pressing her fingers against his cheekbone. He took a deep breath, as if memorizing her touch.

"For what?" Her voice was husky and low and she saw desire move across his face again.

"For a night I'll never forget." His voice was intense as he looked down at her. "Remember this, remember me, no matter what happens in the future."

A warning bell suddenly began to ring somewhere in her mind, but she was too sated from their recent activities to pay it much attention at the moment. Besides, the way he was looking at her, how could she not remember this moment, remember him?

"I'll never forget it, or you." She reached up to brush a soft kiss against his lips, lingering for a moment as he cupped her jaw in his hands. When she finally pulled back, the words were out before she could stop them. "Will you at least tell me your name? Something else to remember you by?"

She could have sworn she saw something like regret appear on his face, although it was gone before she could register it fully.

"Slade."

It fit him, she thought as she looked up at him. Rugged, dangerous, yet with hidden depths. It also sounded familiar for some reason, but she couldn't figure out why.

"Felicity," she suddenly offered, realizing he hadn't asked, but wanted him to know. She was surprised to find she didn't want him to forget her either, or just remember her as an easy one-night-stand in a bar.

"You're not a one-night-stand, Felicity. I promise you, you'll see me again." His words startled her into realizing it wasn't just Oliver or Digg she apparently had a brain to mouth filter problem with. She blushed, although she felt something lighten in her heart as she saw him smile. He really was a damnably attractive man.

"Really?" She couldn't help the hope that appeared in her voice. She wasn't sure why the knowledge that he wanted to see her again made her so happy. But it did.

"Dream of me until then, Felicity." With that, he reached for her hand, brushing his lips over her skin and making her shudder, her eyes fluttering closed as she reveled in the sensation of his lips, and the way her name sounded coming from his lips. When she opened her eyes a few moments later, he was gone.

She felt something tug at her heart, something she really wasn't sure she should be feeling after having sex with a total stranger up against the back wall of a seedy nightclub.

"Okay, you definitely were up to no good. Details, woman!"

Chloe's voice startled her back to the present and she turned to find her friend giving her a triumphant grin. She blushed, knowing what she must look like, but surprised to find she really didn't care.

"Come on, I'll tell you all about it at the bar. I need another drink." Linking her arm with her friend, she headed back across the crowded dance floor, unable to stop her eyes from looking around, one more time, to see if he was still there.

He wasn't, but something told her that he would keep his word. She'd see him again. And she was looking forward to it more than she could say.


So, there's my first attempt at Slacity. Thoughts? And if you want some Olicity, try Chapter 2!