Disclaimer : I don't own anything. If I did, this show would be even more fucked up, and I don't think Oliver would ever be allowed to wear a shirt.

AN: So the last episode inspired me. I already wrote a short Thea/Tommy OS, but this one is longer and smuttier. It is set in a more or less distant future where Oliver and Laurel are back together, thankfully Thea is here to comfort Tommy! Lol, enjoy.

Warning : fluffy and smutty. Kind of.


"I told you she didn't get you, Tommy."

The voice comes as a surprise. He's in a corner of the ballroom, drinking eagerly his champagne as he watched his two best friends exchanging oh-so secret looks. He swallows hard the bubbly drink and turns around.

Thea. She surprised him once more. He thought he was the only one to have found out about Laurel and Oliver. As usual, she's far more perceptive than she seems. And she's beautiful too, breathtaking in her blue dress. He can feel himself appraising her a little too much, like he always does. But she doesn't seem the least disturb by that, she goes on.

"Don't tell me you don't remember that night," she says, and he opens his mouth but the words won't come out. "You're lucky, you know. I tried everything to forget it, but I never managed to," she continues with a small self-deprecating smile.

"Thea-"

She confuses him. Her smile, her words, her eyes—so big and shiny and blue—and now he's lost inside them. Or maybe it's all that champagne.

"What Tommy?"

"I remember," he says.

And he does. Of course he remembers. He can't see how he could ever forget the way she leaned into him, so pretty and perfect and utterly vulnerable-a little girl with pink lips waiting to be kissed, smelling of strawberry and too much champagne—and how hurt she was when he pushed her away.

"Good for you," she says. "Now you can see that I was right."

"Not really. You never said anything about these two getting back together."

"It was implied," she shrugs. "I said she didn't get you, didn't deserve you, and was definitely not right for you. Ergo, I was right."

"Ergo? Is that the kind of fancy words they teach kids at your fancy school nowadays, Speedy? Anyway there is a fallacy in what you're saying here. She doesn't deserve me, yet she's good enough for your beloved big brother?"

"It's not the same. She isn't the same with him. I'm pretty sure they're soul mates or some stupid shit. Anyway, she doesn't deserve to be with a guy like you if she doesn't love him."

"But you do?"

He's no sure why he asks. He wants to provoke her, to challenge her, to push her.

"Deserve you?"

"Love me."

His heart his beating fast fast fast, and she smiles like she knows it.

"Maybe."

"And we're right together?"

"Yes," she says, a little breathless. She stares at him nakedly, baring to him her soul and her most secret desires. She doesn't blink, doesn't even blush. He's never seen her so open and vulnerable. He's never seen her so strong. She is a woman. And she's never been more attractive.

"OK," he says, because right now there is nothing he wants more than for her to be right. "Prove it."

Their eyes lock, and there seems to be some kind of a struggle on Thea's side, but then she just nods and grab his hand.

And she takes him out of the ballroom and up through a labyrinth of stairs and corridors and leads him to a large, well-decorated guest-room. She close the door and he lets her push him against it.

Both of her hand find his shoulders, and one of them slid down to his heart. Palm open against his beating-too-fast life, she looks up to him.

"This is right," she says. "Try and tell me otherwise."

But he can't, so he just kisses her. Her lips are soft and fit perfectly against his. She tastes like strawberry without a hint of champagne. He can't remember seeing her drink tonight, he realizes. In fact, he can't remember when was the last time he saw her drink.

Somehow this realization only makes him want her more. He kisses her harder, and she responds in kind. Hungry and yet so-tender lips tease his, before going down to his jaw and leaving a soft trail there. By the time Thea reaches his neck, he's pretty sure he's gone crazy, he's never felt like that before and she fits perfectly in his arms.

She's so small, he lifts her up and pine her against the wall. One of his hands is holding her waist, caressing the soft skin near her hipbone, the other playing with her hair. He holds her close, close against him and kisses her. Slow kisses, excruciatingly slow kisses, in which their tongues speak of love, loss, pain and beauty.

Hope.

He takes her to the bed and lays her down gently, his eyes peering into the ocean blue of hers. He takes off what is left of her dress, and she helps him getting rid of his shirt. She's a sight to behold, almost naked and exposed for him on this bed, so he looks. She still has her bra and panties on, but she's far more exciting and beautiful than any other woman he has ever seen. Even though it's not more revealing than many of the swimming-suits he saw her in before—and sometimes, depending on her mood, she would even forgo the top—so why is he so affected now?

He remembers chasing her down the beach in Saint-Tropez one summer, back then she already was the most beautiful woman he knew, he just didn't know it yet, he realizes. He didn't allow himself to see her that way. Now it's all changed. He can no longer deny it. Deny her.

"You're beautiful Thea," he says. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world."

She doesn't respond with her words, but with kisses and touches, and together they take off the last piece of fabric covering her body. The curve of her breast was meant to fit in his palm, every inch of her skin was meant to be kissed by his mouth, he believes.

And if her moans are any indication, she agrees. And soon it's not just moans but pleas that escape her pretty lips.

"Please, please, please, Tommy please," she says breathless.

"Please what?" he teases, his hands between her legs driving her crazy. "Say it."

"No," she says.

And she rolls over to get on top of him. He laughs, and after a short struggle for control she's on top again. She caught his arms and his pining him down the bed. He likes it.

"Fine, don't say it. Take it, take everything you want, love."

And she does. She puts his hardened member inside of her. She takes him in more way than one with every thrusts. Her hands are everywhere on his skin, he sees and feels only her. He takes her hand to his mouth and kisses erratically everyone of her fingers to try and show her how he feels, how she makes him feel. But the pleasure is too strong, and he abandons himself to it in her arms. She makes love to him, and it's a new world she shows him, a world they can build together.

Their beating hearts seem to fill up the whole room when she finally collapses on top of him.

When the night ends, and the sun comes up, he knows it's only the beginning.

"Aren't you going to say it?" he asks, as the morning light hit them through the heavy curtains.

"Say what?"

"I told you so."

She laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound in the world.


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But I'd love some honest feedbacks or encouragements.