Oliver Queen is ready for anything life throws his way. He survived five years on Lian Yu, so saving Starling City shouldn't be a problem. He's got his orders, knock off everyone on the list, and nothing is going to get in his way.

Nothing, that is, until Felicity Smoak so completely throws him off his axis that the entire gravitational pull of his life is thrown off course. He doesn't see it right away; too blinded by vengeance, lost love and reclaiming a life he no longer wanted. But when he does finally pull his head out of his ass long enough to take a good look around, all he sees is Felicity.

And really, who can blame him? She's smart, makes him laugh and isn't afraid to tell him when he is 'oh so wrong.' She's the only one in his crazy, mixed up life who sees the real Oliver and he can't think of anything more prize worthy than that. On top of all that, she's fucking hot. With an ass he's stared at for days, breasts that take the most extreme concentration to ignore and hair he wants to bury his face in; he wants her, plain and simple

But it isn't simple. Yada, yada, yada; his life is too dangerous, no one around him is safe and it's better if they both keep their distance. Except the excuse starts to fall flat even to his own ears. Because he already cares about her—she's already so deeply entrenched in his life it would take the jaws of life to remove her, and he is fucking tired of watching his second chance at life go by.

So when the article about his 'best sex moves' is released on the internet for everyone and their sister to read, who can blame him for using it to his advantage? He'd been trying to figure out the best way to go about saying "Hey Felicity, I'm in love with you. Want to give us a shot?" for months and her doubt over whether or not his 'moves' worked is all the window he needs.

And it works, of course it does, he congratulates himself on a well executed plan. The best part being that he's happy, well and truly happy, for the first time since he left the island. He spends his days as Oliver Queen, CEO; his nights as Arrow, Starling City's very own vigilante; and any free time he has, as Felicity Smoak's boyfriend.

All in all, things are looking up.

Except, of course, when an unlucky series of events means it has been eleven whole days since he last found himself staring up at her in awe as she grips his headboard to get the perfect angle, grinding down onto him until he's calling her name. First it had been her mother's unexpected visit, then it has been a particularly vicious criminal dressed in a gorilla suit calling himself Grodd, followed up with an increased number of board meetings due to a new investment opportunity. He's pretty sure that's why Isabel is in his office today; something about capital or contracts, he can't be sure.

Because Felicity is sitting at her desk on the other side of the glass wall, enjoying a lollipop, and his mind has gone completely blank as all the blood in his body seems to rush to his groin.

It should be illegal, the way she is eating it. Her cheeks hollowed as her throat works to suck up the flavor; her tongue occasionally curling out around the hard candy to bring it into her mouth as her eyes close in pleasure over the taste.

It's obscene, bordering on pornographic.

And Oliver wants nothing more than to drag her into his private bathroom so he can discover what flavor she's enjoying so thoroughly. He isn't sure how he manages to nod and hum along to everything Isabel says while simultaneously deciding he and his assistant deserve the afternoon off, but he must pull it off because Isabel seems satisfied about the conclusions they've reached.

But before he can put his detailed scheme for some afternoon delight into action some idiot calling himself the Clock King starts blowing up buildings in Starling, effectively derailing his is why he forgives himself that night for getting a little distracted from the mission as they wait for Felicity's programs to do their magic.

Felicity is bent over her desk in the foundry with her ankles crossed, her ass swaying a little in a tight skirt that leaves his mouth watering. Dig is standing next to her, pointing out something on one of the screens causing her to drop to her elbows as she reads it, her legs uncrossing to steady herself; just a small nudge with his feet and she would be in the perfect position for him to—

"I think we got him," Dig says, thankfully cutting off Oliver's thought process; allowing him to refocus on the mission.

Taking down William Tockman is a long, intellectually taxing fight that leaves all three members of the team exhausted. Oliver isn't the least surprised to receive a text from Felicity explaining she was heading home to get a good nights sleep; begrudgingly agreeing with her as his adrenaline wears off while he stores his gear. He doesn't really remember the drive back to the mansion or falling into bed, only that his last thought before drifting off was wishing his bed wasn't so empty.

The following day isn't much better, his entire morning booked to go over the quarterly reports with half the accounting department. They're all beaming up at him as they explain how great the company is doing, completely oblivious to the way Felicity is stretching at her desk behind them.

Her hand is rubbing at the base of her neck, her ponytail falling to the side as she tilts her head to rub harder at the muscle, exposing the long curve of the back of her neck. His fingers drum impatiently on his desk, wanting to replace her hand with his, to massage her neck until all the tension leaves her. Then she's rolling her shoulders back, pushing her breasts out as her head drops back, her mouth falling open as her eyes close.

"Fuck," Oliver sighs, his head falling forward as image after image invades his mind of Felicity arching up into him exactly like that, her fingers digging into his back as she climaxes.

When he finally gets control of his mind, he looks up to see the people before him exchanging concerned looks. He smiles apologetically before motioning with his hand that they should continue; deciding that the glass wall had been a horrible idea and would have to go if he hoped to get any work done ever again.

By the time the accounting department is done telling him exactly how much the company has earned, it's late in the day and Felicity is missing. A post-it note on her desk informing him she's off with Thea getting her hair done, 'don't tell me you forgot about your mother's gala tonight,' and she'll meet him there, signed with a smiley face.

Knowing there isn't a chance of ripping her away from Thea's side, he heads to the foundry, taking his frustration out on a training dummy; not stopping until he's drenched in sweat and convinced he can make it through the evening without dragging Felicity off to the nearest dark corner.

His resolve, however, is tested severely as Felicity emerges from Thea's room in a dress that nearly has him sagging against the wall for support. It's deep red, tight, with a slit that's a few inches shy of being indecent.

"You like it?" She asks innocently, turning to the side to show him the dress is backless. He snorts, grabbing her hand to pull her down the hallway to his room, but then Thea is there, standing in front of him, pushing them both back toward the stairs and their waiting mother.

Oliver decides he can last at least two hours; two hours of his hand on her bare back rubbing circles on her spine with his thumb. Two hours of mindless conversation as his brain begins to index the various positions he's planning on getting them into that night; wondering if tonight is the night he can convince her sex against a window doesn't really make you an exhibitionist if you're on private property. Two hours of ignoring the way she smells, her soft skin and her unavoidable inadvertent sexual innuendoes. And he thinks he does a pretty good job, even managing to have a little fun.

That is until Felicity pulls him out to the dance floor; his finger's tightening as he realizes he can't feel the lines of her panties where his hand clutches her hip. He pulls back to look at her, ready to ask if she is actually trying to kill him; when she shrugs.

"Didn't work with the dress," she says with the smallest of smiles, a glint in her eye that is undeniable.

No force in the world could have stopped him from pulling her into his side, dragging her off the dance floor, away from the room, and up the stairs. They're almost to the top when she puts a hand on his chest, stopping him, as she climbs the last stair onto the landing, bringing her eye level with him. She moves her hands to his shoulder, her eyebrows raised in undisputed glee.

"So what's the verdict?" She asks, swatting away his hands that had been moving toward her waist.

"Verdict?" He asks, confused.

"Lollipops? Bending over? Inappropriate stretching in my office chair? Going commando?" She asks, leaning in a little closer with each question. He can only stare back, his mind sluggishly putting together what she is saying. "Are they my best sex moves or just ways I turn you on, Oliver Queen?"

He grits his teeth, bending down to throw her over his shoulder in one fell swoop as she laughs. He practically runs to his room, his long strides eating up the distance between them and his bed in record time as she just keeps giggling, not even attempting to convince him to put her down.

He takes half a second to make sure the door is locked, because he is not about to be interrupted, before throwing her down on the bed with a little more force than he intended. She's still laughing, her hair fanned out around her as her breasts bounce with the movement. He's lost, his eyes fixated on how she looks laid out before him.

"Revenge is sweet," she says, with a quirk of her eyebrow and that's all he needs.

His hand shoots out, pulling her up from the bed. Ignoring her gasp he turns her around, pushing on her shoulder until she's bent over, her hands resting on the bed to support her. He doesn't bother taking off the dress, just bunches it up over her hips; his fingers smoothing down the curve of her bare ass, before dipping into her, not at all surprised to find her already wet. She groans, pushing back against his fingers and somehow it makes him even harder, knowing that playing with him had also turned her on.

"Oliver," she says, her tone final and indisputable; she's done waiting. He grits his teeth again, barely keeping it together; because his name on her lips is an aphrodisiac he hadn't known existed until he met her.

Not bothering to undress, he undoes his pants just enough to free his cock; stroking himself as he moves forward, his eyes glazing over as he comes in contact with her smooth skin. Then he's pushing into her without hesitation, a shudder running through both their bodies. Felicity's shoulders drop a little as he fills her, his arm moving around her stomach to keep her standing as he starts to pull out before pushing back in again to find a rhythm; a rhythm that has them both panting. He can't help but smile at the way her fingers grip the edge of the bed, knowing he's hitting that elusive spot she loves so much; not relenting until she throws her head back as the first wave of satisfaction hits her.

Normally he would have taken a moment to preen over how quickly she comes, but she's clenching so tightly around his cock that it almost finishes him. His body and mind too busy trying to regain control to even so much as raise an eyebrow. He waits until she's steady again before stepping back. His hands moving to undress himself as she collapses on to the bed in a boneless heap.

"Take off that dress," he grunts, ripping the buttons of his shirt in his haste. With what looks to be herculean effort, she turns to sit on the edge of the bed, giving him a lazy smile as her hands reach down to pull the dress over her head. He has to close his eyes to steady himself, to force himself to continue to undress, wondering if he will ever get enough of her naked body.

He kicks away his pants as she pulls him between her knees, her hand wrapping around his dick with practiced precision; her head dropping to lick up the underside. He grits his teeth as she reaches the tip, her head dipping, mouth opening to take him in, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks.

"Felicity," he moans, because the suction is all he'd been dreaming about, the pressure faultless. She shifts a little, trying to pull her legs underneath her to get a better angle and he knows he has to stop her before he loses control. His hand combs through her hair as he pushes her head back. She follows his lead, letting his cock drop from her mouth with one last lick of her tongue.

And he would swear in any court of law, that she is the most gorgeous fucking thing he's ever seen in his entire life. Nothing on the planet even comes close to the beauty that is before him, looking up at him with a heady mix of adoration and lust that makes his whole world stop spinning.

All his plans of seduction and various positions disappear because this is Felicity and he doesn't need plans with her. They come together in a way that defies logic and sense, communicating without saying a word. He doesn't need to make this last, because he has all night; they have all night. Fuck it, he wants them to have their whole life.

He knows she senses the change, the shift in his energy, from the way she murmurs his name against his lips as he curls over her, his hands on either side of her head holding on tightly as he kisses her, hoping she can once again read his mind.

She pulls him back onto the bed, never breaking the kiss as she spreads her legs for him, her hand guiding him to her. It isn't until her hips shift and he slides into her that he breaks the kiss. His mouth falling to her collarbone as he begins to move in her again, resting his weight on his forearms; no real rhythm, just raw friction. Beautiful friction, combined with the small huffs of air she releases each time he thrusts into her is all he will ever need to be happy. He closes his eyes, moaning incoherently as he gives over to the inevitable.

"Oliver," she can barely get his name out, hardly a whisper against his ear as she shifts her knee up higher on his side. He can feel her release coming, feel it begin around his cock as he increases his speed until they both fall apart together.

Later, in the wee hours of the morning, as she's laying on her stomach, sleepy and sated, her face turned to rest on her hands so she can look up at him as he traces a finger along the indentation of her spine, he tells her the truth. While lollipops, bending over, inappropriate office stretching and going commando are all wonderful ways to get his attention, the only move she will ever need to turn him on is saying his name.

A/N: And we're done! Thank you so much for all the reviews/favorites/follows! I was really nervous about posting this story, so I'm happy to know I didn't scare everyone off.

Thanks to SigilBroken for watching Arrow, beta-ing my shit and grabbing the wine when I had my meltdown. You're the best.

And special thanks to quisinart4 for pointing out to me that there should really be more fic about how Felicity turns Oliver on, thus inspiring this last chapter.