Here it is, the final chapter of this fic and the larger series. I have to warn you, the construction of this chapter is a little sprawling. I wanted this to be about not just this time in Oliver's life, but checking in with all the characters and his larger experience of life and time and love. So there are a lot of flashbacks and references to earlier chapters and even subtle reminders of other Olicity fics I've written. I hope you guys enjoy it.
Oliver Queen has always hated weddings. It appears that applies even to his own. It's not that he isn't happy to be married. Though it's not quite the affair he's always imagined. It's a different girl than he expected, for one.
Before the island and for quite a while after it, he had assumed Laurel would be the girl to walk down the aisle toward him, not the spunky blonde sitting next to him now. He can't say he's not thrilled about the change. In fact, that's why he hates this damn wedding, or really, the reception. In his early musings, he'd always expected countering his boredom with a bridesmaid or two (spiriting them off into some dark corner and having a bit of fun), but the only person he wants to drag off into a corner now is his own bride.
They aren't sitting at their table now chatting with guests from lack of trying on his part, that's for sure. He's tried to convince Felicity to leave multiple times, but been rebuffed at every turn. And not because she doesn't want to; the way she bites her lip before pushing his hand away every time it strays on her thigh is testament to that. Instead–as she whispered in his ear moments ago–it's not because she doesn't want to, but because people would notice their absence. Which is far more sexually frustrating really. Sometimes he hates how rational she is.
Oliver stares at Felicity as she talks to one of their guests, her shoes kicked off under the table, but otherwise flawless in appearance despite all the dancing she's been doing. He moves his hand from where it rests on her shoulder and trails his fingers up the slope of her neck to the edge of her hairline. He wishes her hair were down. It would be nice to run his fingers through it if he can't have what he really wants. He smiles picturing the moment he'll get to take her hair down out of its complicated up-do until Felicity shrugs him off. Without pausing in her conversation, she turns and gives him her stern teacher look as a warning. He smirks in response, but still takes his hand off her to rest it on the back of her chair. That's the only way he's going to keep himself from misbehaving.
Thinking about something other than how beautiful Felicity looks would also help; so, Oliver turns from her and stands, surveying the scene as he meanders around the large, crowded gazebo. Oliver had never given much thought to when his wedding would be. He had simply told Felicity to tell him the date and time and he would be there. Spring seemed as good a time as any when she had suggested it, but it appeared less sound as the date approached. April had been uncharacteristically rainy and Felicity and Thea had fretted that their plans would be ruined until, miraculously, the sky had cleared the week before. The days had been warm and bright ever since and the whole world seemed in bloom today. And something had seemed oddly right about that to Oliver–the vibrant colors and undeniable sense of life somehow evocative of Felicity.
Especially when she had walked down the aisle. It had never seemed right to him–that stark white dress. Which wasn't a comment on her virtue (which he was quite pleased to say was thoroughly tainted in the traditional sense), just that its plainness didn't feel like her. Though the intricate, iridescent beading had. Yet the image of Felicity, smiling at him, surrounded by color and light had been a perfect moment. He'd thought then that she had been right to push to have the wedding away from Starling City's urban dreariness, even if it was only a few hours' drive. He had initially balked at the prospect, somewhat unwilling to admit that the beach resort made him slightly uncomfortable even if he knew its terrain was nothing like Lian Yu's. Yet he had grown fond of the gentle, steady crashing of waves in recent days, memories of splashing around with Felicity now associated with the sound.
He can still hear them now, though he can no longer see them. The final hints of sunlight have finally faded from the sky and the way the warm, spring night seems to encase the space, isolating it from the lush landscape Oliver knows it hides, makes the party feel much more intimate than it is. As expected of the CEO of Queen Consolidated, the reception is a massive affair. Though most of their guests consist of friends and family of varying closeness, some were strategically invited for business purposes. The investors he's been courting for what feels like years are here. As are the company's assorted members of the board, few of whom he actually likes but who are petty enough to hold it against him had he neglected to invite them.
There is at least one QC employee he intended to invite though: Diggle. Can't have a wedding without a Best Man. Oliver spots him talking to Carly–also a member of the wedding party–on the edge of the dance floor and approaches them.
"You two enjoying yourselves?" he asks, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders.
"It's beautiful," Carly replies.
"Almost as nice as ours," Diggle adds, winking at his wife. Oliver throws his head back and laughs.
"Well, as long as somebody doesn't make a scene like Felicity did, I'm going to have to say ours wins," Oliver responds.
"Don't count on it," Diggle counters, ducking out from under Oliver's arm and reaching a hand out to Carly. "I'm going to take this one out on the dance floor so she can fake breaking an ankle." Carly laughs and lets herself be led away and Oliver smiles after them.
Diggle is also someone he never expected. Tommy was always meant to stand at his side. Even on this happy occasion, Oliver can't help the stab of regret he feels every time he thinks of his fallen best friend. He wonders if Tommy would have escorted Laurel tonight, if he would have had to attend their wedding long ago. He's wondering whether he and Laurel would have dated at all if Tommy had still been around when he spots her talking with her father at the edges of the dance floor. Quentin looks characteristically sulky, though probably not as much as he would if his daughter were the bride. He's surprised Quentin even came, but he's got a soft spot for Felicity; so much so that he's even grown to like Oliver enough that he no longer passive-aggressively insults him every time they meet. He saunters toward them, walking in a wide circle as he approaches so Felicity is in his sightline.
"Laurel," he says with a nod. "Mr. Lance," he adds and sticks out his hand, "I'm glad you came."
"Thanks, Queen," he replies and takes Oliver's hand. "Congratulations, you've married a good woman there," he adds in what is probably the closest thing to a compliment Oliver's heard from him since he returned from the island.
"I'd say so," Oliver replies and smiles watching Felicity smack away Edward Raymond's outstretched hand and pulling him in for a hug instead, his current girlfriend and one of Felicity's bridesmaids beaming down at them.
"Don't forget that," Quentin says in his characteristic grumble and claps his hand on Oliver's shoulder a little harder than mere affection would require. "Speaking of, I should go give my congratulations to the bride," he adds and walks away.
"Sorry about him," Laurel says as they watch her father go.
"It's alright," Oliver says, "he's got a point, given my track record." Laurel tilts her head and gives him a kind smile before placing her hand on his arm. "I'm really glad you're here," Oliver says softly. And he means that. He wasn't sure they would ever get to a place where they could comfortably be friends again.
"Me too," Laurel replies and drops her hand, "I'm really happy for you. I may not have liked her much when we were dating, but she's good for you," she admits and nods in Felicity's direction. "You seem different with her, happier."
"I am," Oliver confirms. "I'm sorry for hurting you though," he apologizes and places his hand on her arm.
"Water under the bridge," she says with a wave of her hand. "Things turned out the way they were supposed to." Oliver nods and then offers Laurel his hand.
"Care to dance?" he asks.
"Sure," she replies and places her hand in his. They're just stepping onto the dance floor when a man calls out Laurel's name, drawing their attention. They turn to see her boyfriend, Starling City's DA, snaking his way through the crowd toward them, his cell phone pressed to his chest.
"Sorry to interrupt," he says when he reaches them, "but that was the office. Detective Harper just made an arrest in the Chapple case." Laurel turns an apologetic eye to Oliver and he smiles and bows his head.
"Sorry," she says and then drops his hand. Oliver watches them go and wonders if he won't be attending their wedding soon when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns, hoping to find Felicity and finds his sister instead.
"Hey," Thea says, "where's Laurel going?"
"Back to Starling City, I suspect," Oliver says with a sigh. "You've got to talk to your boyfriend about his timing when it comes to big arrests."
"He's just trying to be as productive as his favorite vigilante," she says proudly. "Come on, we're going to cut the cake." She grabs his hand and starts to drag him toward the table where the monstrous tiered confection sits.
"Where's Felicity?" he asks, unable to spot her.
"She's in the bathroom fixing her hair and make-up," Thea replies. "Can't have her looking disheveled in the pictures." She rounds on him when they reach the table with the cake and wags a finger accusingly in his face. "And I swear, if you dare pull that crap where you smear cake on her face, I will kill you in front of all these guests."
"I promise to do no such thing," Oliver replies and raises a hand as if to swear it.
"Good," Thea says and then turns to give some instructions to the waiter who hands her the utensils for the cake. Oliver watches her arrange everything on the table, briefly wondering if Thea is this dedicated for all the clients of her event planning business before he lightly lays a hand on her shoulder to draw her attention.
"Thank you for doing all this," he says sincerely. "It's been wonderful."
"You're welcome," she says smugly. "You know I would do anything for Felicity. Just remember that if you ruin things with her, I'm disowning you," she threatens.
"I won't," Oliver says absently, now focused on watching Felicity walk toward them.
"Hey," she says when she reaches them and slides her arm around Oliver's waist.
"Hey," Oliver replies and places his hand on her chin so he can kiss her. But, like the rest of the day, he's thwarted.
"Oh no you don't," Thea barks and slaps his shoulder. "Not until after," she warns. Oliver grumbles in frustration but complies.
"We can leave after we have some cake," Felicity whispers in his ear and Oliver has to stop himself from whooping in triumph.
The cake cutting proceeds without incident. Though Oliver messes up Felicity's make-up anyway when he wipes the frosting off her lips and smears her lipstick slightly. Luckily, Felicity convinces Thea to let him live. They return to their seats after that and it feels like an eternity until the cake finally arrives. Oliver shovels his slice into his mouth like his life depends on it, but Felicity refuses to rush and savors every bite. Finally, blessedly, she eats the last of it and Oliver's pulling her up out of her seat before she sets her fork back on her plate.
"Well, goodnight everyone," he says to the people at their table. Felicity elbows him and leans down to hug her father.
"Congratulations, Hoppy," Mr. Smoak says.
"Love you, Dad," Felicity replies. Oliver shakes his father-in-law's hand, then follows Felicity around the table as she hugs her teary-eyed mother and thanks and says goodnight to each person.
"Congrats, you two," Diggle says as he shakes Oliver's hand.
"Thanks, John," Felicity says, releasing Carly and leaning up to plant a kiss on Digg's cheek.
Oliver obediently follows Felicity as she converses with a few more people, waves farewell to their gathered guests and then finally, finally succeeds in dragging Felicity away toward the elevators and their penthouse suite.
"What's your hurry?" Felicity teases and Oliver's only response is to tighten his grip on her hand.
There's a small group of people assembled at the elevator bank and Oliver taps his foot in frustration knowing they'll have to share the space with them.
"Sure you don't want to take the stairs?" Oliver asks, hoping against hope.
"In these heels?" Felicity replies and gives him a look he knows means she will brook no argument on the matter.
He pulls Felicity through the doors when they open, draping his arm over her shoulders and pulling her against his side as he leans against the back wall. He taps his foot impatiently at their slow progress and after the third stop, they're finally alone. Oliver has Felicity pressed against the back wall of the car before the doors even shut. He kisses her the way he's wanted to all day and notices the sweet taste of their wedding cake still lingers on her tongue. They separate when the elevator dings for their floor, but they don't walk out right away, instead standing with their foreheads pressed together as they both try to catch their breaths.
"Ever had sex in an elevator?" Oliver pants.
"You know very well the answer to that question," Felicity says playfully and then slides around him to keep the doors from closing.
He follows her down the hall to their room, suspecting that as much as he likes looking at her in that dress, he'll enjoy taking it off her even more. He's so distracted by the thought that Felicity has to wave a hand in his face to remind him to take out the key and open the door. Felicity moves to step into the room, but Oliver catches her arm and pulls her back to him, swiftly swinging her up into his arms. She yelps and then laughs as he settles her more comfortably against his chest.
"You know, I think the point of this whole tradition is to carry me into our new home. So...unless you've got something to tell me, this doesn't count," Felicity says as he steps over the threshold.
"I'll carry you whenever you want," Oliver replies and kicks the door closed behind them. Felicity giggles and leans up to kiss the underside of his jaw. Her hands struggle to undo his tie and he's reminded of how much damn clothing they're wearing. Felicity unceremoniously throws the tie on the floor when she succeeds in unraveling it and she's just setting to work on the buttons of Oliver's shirt when he sets her down. Her focus shifts to his jacket and he lets it fall to the floor when she slides it off his shoulders.
"Mmm, I love how you look in suspenders," Felicity says and pauses to stare at him before she wraps a hand around each one to pull him against her. Oliver smiles, she's such a lech sometimes. He reaches up and lets down her hair.
"Better," he says when it falls down her back. He runs a hand through her hair to spread it out the way he likes, but is stopped when one of the pins holding it together pokes him. He finds it, takes it out then tries again, but encounters the same problem. When it happens a third time, he growls in frustration. "Are you planning to smuggle these out of the country tomorrow or something?" he asks and Felicity laughs.
"I'll get it," she says and turns toward the bathroom. Oliver watches her go, frowning in annoyance that everything seems to be conspiring against him today. "Did you enjoy the party?" she asks as she flips on the light.
"Uh-huh," Oliver replies automatically. Felicity smirks at him briefly before turning back to the mirror.
"Well, thank you for doing it anyway," she says sincerely. "I know you hate those types of things, but I had a lot of fun."
"I'm glad," he says genuinely and sits down on the edge of the bed so he can watch her, perfectly framed by the doorway as she leans over the counter slightly toward the mirror. Something about the image sparks a memory in his mind and his brow furrows in thought until he realizes what it is.
Oliver was very young. Thea hadn't even been born yet. It was during the hours before the annual Queen Christmas party, when the house was too full of the hustle and bustle of preparation for anyone to pay him much attention. He'd gone upstairs to find his parents and found his father fully-dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling at something Oliver couldn't see. Robert Queen had turned and smiled at him.
"Hey, kiddo," he'd said and reached out his arms to beckon his son. Oliver had gone straight to him, always happy when his father had the time to play. Robert had picked him up and sat him upon his knee so Oliver was facing what his father had been smiling at earlier.
"Doesn't Mommy look pretty?" he'd asked and pointed to where Moira was standing in their walk-in closet, putting on the earrings Robert had given her for the occasion.
"Yeah," Oliver had said with an enthusiastic nod.
"Thank you, sweetie," his mother had said and walked toward them. Moira had picked him up off his father's lap, bringing him to rest against her side.
"Let's go get you ready for the party," she had said and kissed his forehead before carrying him out of the room.
It hadn't been the last time Oliver found his parents that way, either before or after a party. He feels a pang of regret that he couldn't have seen that today too. There were moments when he would watch Felicity's parents–her mother fussing over Felicity's dress while they took photos or her father's quiet, ecstatic tears throughout the ceremony–when he wished his parents could be there too. Wished he could feel his father pat him on the back with pride, watched his mother embrace her new daughter-in-law. Oliver always feels a twinge of pleasure at how well Felicity and his mother get along. He always knew they would, though Felicity hadn't been so sure the first time he introduced her to Moira as his girlfriend two days after their public debut at the Rockets game.
"Do I look OK?" Felicity had asked as they walked into Starling Penitentiary's visitors' room.
"You look fine," Oliver had assured, his hand dropping to the small of her back.
"You're sure?" she had asked again, looking down and smoothing the fabric of her grey dress with the orange panels on the hips that always reminds him what a great ass she has. "It's not too ostentatious for a prison visit? The poor woman's been wearing jumpsuits for a year, I probably look like a prostitute."
"Felicity," Oliver had said, trying to stifle a laugh. He stopped walking and grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her to face him. "I promise you do not look like a prostitute."
"I'm going to assume you're just being sweet and not speaking from experience," she had muttered under her breath, looking down to where her hands were fiddling with the strap of her purse. Oliver grabbed the sides of her face and forced her to look at him.
"She's going to love you just as much as I do," he had assured and then leaned in to kiss her gently in hopes of calming her down. Felicity had placed her hand on his cheek and sighed when he pulled away, her eyes closed in concentration. "Ready?" Oliver had asked.
"Yeah," she had said and grabbed his hand, leading him to the single table in the middle of the visiting room. "I notice you avoided the prostitute issue," she had mumbled as she sat down.
"I plead the 5th," Oliver had replied and nudged her teasingly with his elbow before their attention was drawn to the sound of a door opening.
"Mom," Oliver had said when Moira appeared, walking to her.
"Oliver, it's so nice to see you," his mother had responded and hugged him. "I see you brought a friend," she'd added as she stepped back and looked over Oliver's shoulder.
"Mom, this is my girlfriend," Oliver had said and turned to lead his mother to the table. "You remember Felicity Smoak?" he'd added and held out his arm to where Felicity stood nervously wringing her hands.
"Oh yes, you work in IT at QC if I recall," Moira had said and extended her hand.
"Not anymore," Felicity had said and shook her hand. Moira's forehead had crinkled slightly in confusion and when Felicity's shoulders had tensed and her expression had grown awkward, Oliver already knew what was coming. "Not because of what happened with the Undertaking or anything like that. I know that was Merlyn's fault. I loved working at QC. Mr. Steele was always...I mean, I left because..." she had glanced at Oliver for a moment, the plea for help clear, "I found something a bit more challenging."
"We were wasting her talents in the IT Department," Oliver had interjected, grabbing Felicity's elbow and pulling her lightly to sit down next to him. "Though I'm hoping to lure her back with a nice cushy job running IT or something equally 'challenging.'"
"And your son is just brash enough to think he can do it, despite my repeated protests," Felicity had teased and grabbed his hand under the table.
"You underestimate me, Ms. Smoak," Oliver had replied lowly, squeezing her hand. Felicity's eyes had narrowed in challenge and they had stared at each other until his mother's voice had drawn their attention again.
"So what do you do now, Felicity?"
"Oh, I work for a small, emerging tech company," she had said, waving her hand in a throwaway gesture. Though the subject hadn't been dismissed so easily and she and his mother had ended up talking business for much of the rest of the visit. Oliver had sat quietly by, enjoying watching Felicity become more animated as she became more comfortable with Moira. Finally, the officer standing at the back of the room had approached and told them their time was up.
"Oh no, I'm so sorry," Felicity had said. "I've been going on this whole time and you barely got to talk to Oliver," she had said apologetically.
"No, no," Moira had assured, standing. "It's been lovely talking with you," she had added and held out her hand. But Felicity didn't take it, instead walking around the table and hugging Oliver's mother.
"It's been nice talking with you too," Felicity had agreed before stepping back so Oliver could hug Moira.
"Good seeing you, Mom," Oliver had said.
"You too, sweetie," she had said before adding in a whisper, "she's wonderful, Oliver."
And she was right of course. So was Laurel today. And Thea. But he doesn't need to be told. Oliver knows Felicity is the best thing that's ever happened to him. It's why he married her. It's why he's been waiting all day to be alone with her.
"Now, where were we?" Felicity asks as she steps out of the bathroom. She walks up to him, but Oliver grabs her shoulders and gently pushes her back.
"Wait," he says softly. Felicity looks up at him, confused, and watches him curiously as he walks to his suitcase and takes out a gift box. "I want to give you your wedding present."
"Oh, Oliver," she says as he hands her the wrapped box and then plops herself down on the edge of the bed. "I didn't wrap yours," she says and pulls at the ribbon. "Well, I can't actually wrap yours. I don't even have it with me, it's something I'll have to show you once we get back to Starling City. But I'll tell you about it. You know how you're always complaining that your quiver is too heavy when you fill it to capacity so you end up carrying less arrows? Well, I've been experimenting with new materials in the AS labs. And before you ask, don't worry, I've been telling everybody it's for that joint project with Wayne Enterprises and they're all too excited to be involved to ask questions. Anyway, I've found a composite formula that's 10% lighter and should actually fly faster than your current arrows. It will probably even improve your accuracy. Not that I think you need the help, but—."
Her rambling comes to an abrupt end when she finally opens the box. Felicity pulls the small plush Arrow toy out and contemplates it. She looks up at Oliver and tilts her head in confusion. "I don't understand," she says softly.
"I never told you this," Oliver starts, nervously shoving his hands in his pockets, "but that day when you told me you weren't pregnant...I was in a store buying that." For maybe the first time since the day they met, Felicity appears speechless. "I knew then that I wanted to marry you, that I wanted our child to have that," he says softly and then points at her left hand. "I picked up the ring from the vault right after."
Felicity looks down at the toy in her hand and gently strokes its soft surface. In silence, she places it back into the box, walks to a nearby table and sets it down. Oliver worries she doesn't like the gift until Felicity walks up to him and pulls him to her by his suspenders again.
"I'd like to have sex with my husband, now," she says and kisses him before he can argue. Not that he would. Especially not after she called him her "husband." He really likes hearing her say that. Which he would tell her if he didn't enjoy kissing her slightly more.
Oliver's done little more than kiss her for the last week and a half actually. That was when Felicity's last round of birth control had ended and they had decided then that they would start trying for a baby the moment they got married. But Felicity had added another stipulation.
"Let's not have sex until the wedding night," she had suggested.
"Hell no," Oliver had replied, already kneeling between her legs on their bed in the Queen mansion and midway through undressing her.
"I'm serious," she had insisted.
"Why?" he'd asked dejectedly, sitting back on his heels.
"I don't know," she'd replied with a shrug. "You know I'm no traditionalist, but I just like the idea of making that night special. If we're having sex every night until then, then it's just like any other day."
"OK," Oliver had agreed because he could tell this was important to her for some reason. Something he had had to remind himself of repeatedly since then.
So, when Felicity starts unbuttoning his shirt, he grabs her hips and pulls her against him with a growl. She laughs at his enthusiasm, breaking their kiss to focus on what she's doing. She sighs and shakes her head in regret as she slides his suspenders down his arms, leaving them to hang at his sides and then removes his shirt. Oliver reaches around her back to unzip her dress as she leans in to press her lips to the base of his throat, but she pushes him away.
"Not yet," Felicity says with a smirk and then hooks the fingers of both hands into the waistband of his pants. She leads him forward until the backs of her legs hit the bed and then sits on its edge. She looks up at him through her eyelashes as she starts to unbutton his pants and it takes all of Oliver's control to not just throw her on the bed right then.
Felicity opens his pants and slides them down his hips a bit then smiles as she takes his cock out of his boxers, but she doesn't take him into her mouth right away. Instead, she slowly strokes him with her hand while her mouth moves down his torso, her lipstick branding his skin. And even when she does, it's not all the way–her lips and tongue teasing his tip as she works him with her hands. It's not until Oliver's nearly begging, just opening his mouth to say the words, that her mouth takes over.
"Felicity," he gasps and his hand moves to rest in her hair. She looks up at him, her eyes sly, and the sight of her kneeling in front of him and still in her wedding dress makes Oliver realize how close he is. He tries to warn her, but all that does is make her pause a moment to take the pocket square out of his jacket. He comes so suddenly that it takes him by surprise, but not Felicity. She pulls away at the perfect moment then cleans him off, smiling to herself as she has to rub at the lipstick stains. She tosses the pocket square to the side and then places Oliver's cock back in his boxers, pulling his pants back up but not bothering to zip or button them.
She starts slowly kissing her way up his torso, but Oliver's done waiting. He grabs the sides of her face and pulls her mouth to his, not caring that he can taste himself on her lips. It turns him on even. His hands slide to her shoulders and he pushes Felicity down so she's sitting on the bed again.
"My turn," he says with a grin and drops to his knees. Oliver slides his hands up her legs and removes her panties, not bothering to remove her shoes as he does because he looks forward to the way the heels will dig into his back. He throws the skirt of Felicity's dress over his head and then his mouth is on her. He starts by teasing her just as she did to him and by the time he finally lets her come, she's laying back with her hands tightly entangled in his hair, breathing hard. And yet it does little to satiate his need for her. So, when Felicity tries to get up, he roughly pushes her legs back onto the bed–spreading her wide–and keeps going. He only stops when she's begging, her whole body shaking. He would gladly continue, but he doesn't want her totally exhausted yet.
Oliver pulls her skirt back down and then stands. Felicity's mind is still too addled for her to do much else than lay back on the bed and slow her breathing, so he lifts her up and turns her around so her back is pressed to his front. She leans back against him as his right arm encircles her waist to hold her up. The other he slides up her back, brushing her hair over her shoulder to hang over her chest and give him better access to the zipper on her dress. He pulls it down, the sound of it and what that means sending a thrill down his spine. He slips the straps of her dress and bra off of each shoulder before slipping his left hand under the fabric and placing his palm on the bare skin of her stomach, letting the dress slip to the floor as he takes his right arm from around her waist. He lets go of her completely to unclasp her bra and then slides his hands down her sides and legs, leaning down to to help her step out of her shoes and the fabric of her dress pooled at her feet. When Oliver stands again, he pulls Felicity against him so quickly that she gasps.
"Get on the bed," he says in her ear and then nibbles the lobe. Felicity complies, crawling on hands and knees up the mattress until Oliver reaches out and grabs her hips. He slides his hands down to squeeze the cheeks of her ass and enjoys the view. When he looks up, he finds her smirking at him. That alone would have driven him crazy, but he's even more aroused when she pushes back, pressing herself against him. He grinds himself hard against her, eliciting a whimper, and then pushes her down gently so she's laying on her stomach. He removes the rest of his clothes while Felicity gets comfortable, grabbing a pillow and crossing her arms over it before resting her head on top.
He climbs onto the bed and kneels, straddling her legs, cock pushing insistently against her flesh. Felicity arches up, already desperate to feel him inside her, but Oliver doesn't want that yet. He wants to explore every inch of her skin, relearn her body. Not that he could ever forget it. Oliver slides his hands up her sides, noticing the cluster of freckles on her right side just below her ribs. He leans down and kisses the skin, making Felicity sigh until he sucks the flesh between his teeth and bites down.
"Ow!" she exclaims and reaches back to smack him lightly on the forehead.
"Sorry," he replies.
"No, you're not," she accuses and settles her head back on her arms.
"No," he agrees and then moves his mouth to drag his tongue up the dip in the middle of her back, his mouth straying to her shoulder when he reaches the top. His hands soon replace his mouth–one on each shoulder–and he kneads the muscles beneath. Felicity always carries her tension in her shoulders (probably something to do with spending most of her days hunched over a computer and the fact that she talks almost as much with her hands as with her mouth).
"Mmm, you're good at that," she mutters, flexing her shoulders. He hums in agreement and splays his hands on her upper arms. "Seriously, if you ever get sick of being a big time CEO, you have a backup plan," she jokes.
"I think I'll stick with the CEO gig and keep this a private business with one client," he replies, sliding his hands down to the small of her back and leaning down. She turns her head to look at him and he takes the opportunity to kiss her. His hands slip around to her stomach and slide up so he can squeeze her breasts. Felicity turns away with a moan, biting her bottom lip as she arches into him.
"What are you waiting for?" she groans.
"Soon," Oliver promises, nipping at the shell of her ear before he sits up again.
He returns his hands to her shoulders and then massages her back, slowly making his way down. Except this time, he moves the rest of his body too, scooting down her legs so that when his hands reach her ass again, he leans down so his mouth can follow behind them, his stubble rasping against her soft skin. When his hands reach her knees, Oliver sits up and climbs off the bed only to climb back on a moment later after he gently spreads Felicity's legs so he can kneel on the bed between them.
"Finally," Felicity mumbles as Oliver grabs her by the hips again and pulls her up so she's on her hands and knees. He takes his right hand from her side and grabs his cock, rubbing his tip against her. But he doesn't push inside her yet. Instead, he leans forward to place his left hand over hers, entwining their fingers and enjoying the sight of their rings laying next to each other. Felicity moans when he finally thrusts into her, seeming to melt against him. Oliver snakes his hand around her body to hold her up and then kisses Felicity's neck before he begins to move.
He starts out slow, savoring how good it feels to be with Felicity after an absence that felt longer than it actually was. Yet as his movements pick up speed and he slides his hand from her stomach to her chest to pinch a nipple, he realizes something feels different. Not physically, but in some other way. He can't quite figure out what it is at this moment when his mind is too focused on the feeling itself.
"I'm so glad you're my wife," Oliver mutters against Felicity's neck and then slides his right hand forward to turn her head and kiss her lips.
"Me too," she gasps, reaching back and wrapping her right hand around his neck.
Oliver starts to move faster, harder and he can feel Felicity's thighs start to shake against his. He lowers her down onto the bed again, sliding their joined hands up above her head and pressing her into the mattress as he settles on top of her. He slips his other hand under her hip to rub her clit and the movement changes the angle between them–improving it. Felicity reaches up and tangles her fingers in Oliver's hair as she comes and something about the delicious sting of it sets off his orgasm.
They don't separate right away, just breathing together. When Oliver does finally pull away and lay down on his side, they're only separated a moment before he's reaching over and pulling Felicity against him again. He snuggles up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and nuzzling against her neck.
"I've missed you," Oliver whispers as he kisses Felicity's shoulder.
"But we've been together the whole day," she replies, but presses back into him.
"But I had to share you with everyone else," he counters, possessively splaying his hand over her stomach. "We haven't had a moment alone since Thea woke us up." Felicity chuckles at the memory and lays her hand over his.
"Well, now it'll be just us for a month. We can sit on beaches and eat every meal together and you'll only have to share me with the other people on vacation."
"Nuh-uh," he says and shakes his head. "We're barely leaving bed."
"Is that so?" she asks and turns over onto her back to face him. "How are you going to stop me?" she adds and squints at him in challenge. Oliver sits up and braces his arms over Felicity before answering.
"Well, how can you get out of bed when you're held down by...dead weight?"
"No!" she yelps and tries to roll out of the way, but he's faster than her. Oliver smirks as he covers her body with his and goes limp and she unsuccessfully tries to push him off of her.
It's a game they've played for years. One morning he'd woken up to the sounds of Felicity grunting with exertion, unsuccessfully trying to push him up off of her by the shoulder.
"What are you doing?" he had asked groggily.
"Oh thank goodness, you're awake," she had said. "I thought I was going to have to call Digg to lift you off me."
"I'm not that heavy," Oliver had replied, scooting off of her, but keeping an arm around her waist to effectively keep her from leaving bed.
"You are when you sleep," Felicity had replied, trying to squirm out of his grasp. "You're like dead weight."
"I'll show you dead weight," Oliver had countered, pouncing on top of her and kissing her until she had no longer wanted to get out of bed at all.
He lets her up this time though. Felicity pushes him off her with a laugh and then scrambles out of bed.
"I'm going to take a shower," she says and throws a pillow at him.
"Again?!" he asks incredulously.
"Have you felt the water pressure in that thing? I might stay in there until we check out."
"Then you should join me," Felicity says and looks at him coyly over her shoulder, which Oliver thinks is pretty rich considering she's stark naked. And though he's seen her nude more times than he can count, she's never seemed sexier.
It's then that he realizes why having sex with her felt different. It is different. Not just because this is the first time they've had sex with the possibility of producing a child.
For years, Oliver has divided his life into three distinct sections: before the island, the island and after the island. He had assumed that last section would characterize the rest of his life, but he realizes now that that isn't the case.
Today is the start of a whole new section: Felicity. Or more rightly, Felicity and Oliver. Though they've essentially been sharing their lives for the last few years, that wasn't quite the same—like two lines running parallel to each other, liable to veer off at any time. Today they became one. A single line he hopes will never split again. 'Til death do they part.
So, Oliver throws the covers off and chases Felicity into the bathroom, the playful sound of her giggling as she lets him catch her ushering him into the next section of his life.
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