A/N: Prompt by dreadredqueen on Tumblr: Felicity tries to use the salmon ladder and Oliver is there to help, but it turns into something more. As usual, pardon me for any grammatical mistakes and thanks for reading!
The air suffocates her and causes her to heat up, her skin flaming at an inhuman rate. She swallows thickly, her breathing escalating, her arms burning from the stretch of having them desperately cling onto the salmon ladder's bar because Oliver is right there. He smells intoxicating and she's hyper-aware of every inch of him. His body is lightly pressed against hers while his left thigh grazes her gently. If she leaned forward just a bit she could feel his heart beating, and for once, Oliver's eyes aren't storming.
A bout of anxiety hits her — it's what happens when she's nervous. She can't move let alone get her brain to start working. She wants to leave because … it's another promise Oliver can't keep. Being with her. She doesn't want to kiss him and regret it later, or go through a cycle of misery.
Felicity wants it to count.
"What are we doing?" she whispers. Keeping her eyes trained on Oliver, she drops her arms but stays put. The mood automatically shifts, and Oliver's shoulders roll back in surprise at Felicity's hesitance. A sinking feeling lands on her chest, because whatever the hell they have will always be pushed to the side for the greater good. For hers and his. She doesn't want to wait, she doesn't want the world to crumble around them in separate ways — she wants it to be together.
They're stronger that way.
He keeps a trained eye on her, his gaze switching from lustful to soft.
He struggles to say something, and when he does it takes him a while to do so. "I — just …" Oliver takes a deep breath, his body ridged as ever. She doesn't know how he's able to keep still in a moment like this. "I'm tired of pretending."
Her chest constricts and her eyes start to sting. "Pretending what?" A gust of hope swoops in, lodging in her throat as the sane part of her mind screams in protest.
"Pretending that — pretending keeping you away will help." Shifting his feet and taking a step closer, Oliver adds, "Keeping you at a distance only gets me halfway there."
Felicity sucks in a deep breath as her heart beats faster at this revelation. She takes a step back, unsure how to feel about this. "I've always met you halfway, Oliver."
Shaking his head and walking towards Felicity he gently says, "It's not that … You help me get to be the man I should be." Completely entranced by his words, Felicity doesn't notice her back hitting the sides of the salmon ladder and she gulps, excitement and fear fluttering inside her. "But I kept you at arms length only to realize I was preventing us from …" Oliver sighs and inhales deeply, gathering his thoughts. She watches him carefully, her heart swelling with each passing second.
"I was preventing us from being the best we can be. We're better together and I — I didn't see that." If possible his eyes soften more and his face,God, is so peaceful. So calm and serene and content. It's the first time she's seen him this way; he's always so sad. But tonight things are different.They are different.
She's frozen. The initial shock of his words is slowly coming off, but she's still dumbfounded. Everything she thought about is here in the open, right in front of her to take. She can have it all — the man she feels safe and secure with, simultaneously hating and loving every bit of him. She can have the person she feels so absolutely perfect with that it hurts.
It happens naturally where Oliver's hand reaches up to her face, cupping it with his course hands and his body gently presses against hers. Sighing at his touch Felicity closes her eyes, her heart pumping loudly and her nerves tingling with excitement. And maybe love.
Their separate breathing spaces conjoin to one, their hands resting on each other's faces, memorizing every inch, finally getting to touch what should have been theirs long ago. Both she and Oliver are shy and hesitant, but as he languidly leans forward and presses his lips against hers, any ounce of nervousness washes away.
And It's replaced by heat.
It scorches her inside and out, licking every inch of her skin and it's completely relentless. She gasps at the sensation and she's only aware of Oliver kissing her deeply and his entire body pushing against hers. It's sucha delicious feeling, and she wraps her arms around him to pull him closer, much closer.
Her position is pretty uncomfortable since the ladder is poking holes into her back. Oliver pulls back and begins to devour her neck, sucking on a particular spot. "God," she moans as she throws her head back in passion.
Only to hit it particularly hard on the bar.
"Fuck!" she yelps, her hand immediately going to her head and rubbing it. A sharp pain travels from the epicenter to her forehead and she closes her eyes in agony.
"Are you OK?" Oliver asks, concern lacing his voice.
She manages to open her eyes and nod marginally. "I'll be fine once I stick my head inside a bucket of ice." He's upset and almost ready to play doctor, which she does not want. She wants him on the mat next to them doing very sinful things to her, and of course she would kill the mood.
"Sit down, I'll get an ice pack," Oliver orders. He rests his hands on the tops of her arms and looks at her sternly, his eyes twinkling at the same time. He makes a move to leave when Felicity reacts blindly.
Adrenaline hits her all of a sudden, and without thinking she grabs a hold of his arm as he starts to walk away. "No. I want you. Now," she pleads throatily. There's still a dull pain but it's long been replaced by her arousal. She needs him.
Oliver is torn, wanting to decide if he should be responsible or throw caution in the wind. She can see it written all over his face. Not wanting to waste another second, Felicity tugs on his arm once more and is rewarded with the best kiss in existence.
It's all desire and tongues and desperation, and Oliver starts to make a move to head towards the cot he inhabits frequently. Abruptly he breaks off their kiss and bends down, wrapping his arms beneath her bum and promptly lifts her up. She giggles childishly, having never imagined someone would do that to her, let alone Oliver. She living in a romance novel and it feels perfect.
She encircles her legs around him and he grins, and God, she will never tire of that. He seems so happy and relaxed, and she will do anything to see that happen over and over again. As Oliver takes slow steps forward Felicity begins to tease his neck, nipping and sucking, letting his stubble tickle her in the best of ways. He groan lowly and another wave of passion hits her, landing right in her core.
She's so screwed.
Felicity's so busy trying to turn him on that she doesn't feel Oliver's foot get tangled on the mat he was walking on. Quickly she unlatches her lips from Oliver's neck and gasps as she feels herself falling down. She shouts and Oliver wraps his arms around her to protect her. Somehow Oliver managed to turn on their side and they fall down on the mat, her shoulder hurting from the bent position and sticking on the mat. Half of his body is on top of hers, and as they regain their wits she breaks out in a fit of laughter.
"Oh my God," she manages to say in between her giggle fit. She slaps a hand over her forehead and laughs some more. Of course this would happen on their first kiss. She hears Oliver chuckle to the side, and suddenly she feels his head nuzzled in between the valley of her breasts, his head shaking from embarrassment.
"This has been an epic fail," he notes as he rearranges his position over her. Felicity focuses back on Oliver and relaxes beneath him, his face hovering a mere inch over hers. "But the mat seems OK."
"More than OK," Felicity whispers back hotly. She brings his head down for a bone melting kiss, and before she knows it they're removing each other's clothing, heading straight to the point of no return. She feels downright content; it's finally happening. She can imagine herself waking up like this every morning, a cheerful Oliver tickling her and — Fuck, he is such a good kisser.
Oliver's hands travel to her back so he can remove her bra, but before he can the main door opens loudly and they freeze "Guys, I brought some Big Belly for you."
Felicity's eye go round in fear as do Oliver's. Being the reactionary master he is, Oliver swiftly bends backwards and grabs her shirt, throwing it towards her and not caring that it landed on her face. She scrambles to remove it and attempts to find her glasses, but they're nowhere to be found. She's shaking violently; Oliver tries his best to lace up his sweatpants and throw on his shirt, but he too is nervous. Dig's footsteps sound closer and closer and —
"What. The. Hell. Is going on?"
Dig's standing completely still, his face covered in shock. Big Belly's bags are swinging limply on his hands, and he stands there judging them with as much fervor as a Supreme Court justice.
Her vision is abruptly blocked when Oliver positions himself in front of her, protecting her immodesty. Normally this would be cute but they've been caught by Dig, and she's flaming with so much embarrassment she might die.
After a few seconds of silence and Felicity being unable to put on her shirt, she cranes her neck to the side and deadpans, "We were wrestling."
"Without your shirts on."
She gulps and she can almost hear Oliver groan. "There's … less air resistance."
Dig's clearly not buying her bullshit. To Oliver's credit he stays silent and unwavering. Dig's judging look automatically turns soft and awkward, and he tries to find a way to make things normal. "I, uh, well I'll just — I'll drop the bags here." His leather jacket rustles and he tires to find a way to get out the foundry smoothly. He dumps the bags on the table nearby and runs out of there, quickly jumping up the stairs.
Collectively Felicity and Oliver let out a sigh of relief, but they're well-aware they'll be getting separate conversations later on. Little do they know as Dig goes up the stairs he has an impossibly large smile on his face, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't happy at the way things turned out.