for tip show 1/11/19

Story Title: Heartbeats
Author: Bre

"I didn't like the way he was looking at you!"

“You know what, Oliver, I would find this kind of cute if it wasn’t the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Felicity got the door open and yanked her keys out of the lock. She stepped in quickly, spinning to shut the door in his face, but Oliver’s hand shot up, stopping it from smacking him in the nose.

She glared at him and he glared at her.

"I didn’t like it,” he repeated, and Felicity rolled her eyes.

“This macho crap has to stop,” she said, backing up as Oliver stepped into her apartment, shutting the door with way too much force. “He is my boss, Oliver, which means I have to work with him.”

“I don’t care if you work with him,” Oliver growled. “What I care about is that he spent the entire night undressing you with his eyes.”

“So what?”

“So…” His words faded as he stared at her. “So what?”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t stutter,” Felicity replied saucily, cocking her head, giving him a mocking look.

Oliver just stared at her, his face unreadable in the soft light coming from the overhead stove lamp she’d left on before they’d gone to the fundraiser.

Oliver’s hissy fits about Ray Palmer were nothing new, but they were getting worse - and she knew they were in direct correlation with the fact that they’d been working overtime on a new project, and thus spending more time with Ray, but honestly… it was starting to grate on her nerves.

Felicity pulled her bracelets off and dropped them on the coffee table. She started taking her earrings off, making her way to the bedroom. “I don’t think you should stay over tonight, Oliver, if this is the way you’re going to be acting.”

“Felicity.”

She stopped, closing her eye for a brief second before turning to face him. He hadn’t moved, his eyes locked on her where he still stood by the front door, his face cut by the angular harsh shadows of the dark living room.

“What?”

His reply was to remove his suit jacket, tossing it haphazardly on the couch before unbuttoning his shirtsleeves. Felicity watched, her brow furrowing as he rolled them up, before he ate up the space between them in a few long strides.

She fought the urge to take a step back at the intensity in his blue eyes - which she knew from experience were so much darker than his normal ocean blue considering the way he was looking at her.

Oliver cupped her face in an unyielding grip, tilting her head back as he pressed his chest against her, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You, Felicity Meghan Smoak…” he whispered. “Are mine.”

She shivered at the vehemence in his voice, his eyes drilling a dark promise into hers.

Hard fingers titled her head back further, one hand sliding to cup the back of her neck in a strong grip as his thumb drifted over her bottom lip. Felicity whimpered at the slight sensation and she licked her lip involuntarily, like she was chasing his touch. His face darkened at the sight, the hand on her neck tightening.

“You are my girlfriend,” he continued. “My partner.”

His hand slipped from her neck and down her shoulder, his finger hooking in the silky strap of the beautiful silk dress she’d found earlier that week. It draped over her every curve, and she’d known it was a hit when she’d seen the look on Oliver’s face when she’d put it on for him a few days ago.

Although this wasn’t exactly how she’d imagined him taking it off her.

That sure didn’t mean the butterflies ramming themselves against her chest plate weren’t present, or knots of anticipation weren’t tangling together in her stomach, or a fine tremble in her hands wasn’t making her itch to touch him.

Somehow he’d taken her from pissed as hell and straight to ready-to-rip-the-damn-dress-off-herself in barely a few seconds.

“I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, Felicity…”

The dress slipped off her shoulder, exposing her left breast. Without taking his eyes off her, Oliver’s hand slid down and he palmed it, his rough palm scratching at her hardening nipple.

She took a stuttering breath.

“I am the only one who can kiss you,” he said softly, pressing his lips chastely to hers the very moment he pinched her nipple. Felicity hissed, arching into his touch and he smiled. “I’m the only one who can touch you like this.”

Felicity moaned, her eyes fluttering shut and Oliver pressed his lips to the tip of her nose, peppering small kisses all along the bridge of her nose and back down where he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, making her whine as he held her immobile.

His hands slid down, pushing the silk dress off her other shoulder and down her body, past her hips until it pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a skimpy lace thong. The apartment was chilly from being empty all night, and she shivered, although she wasn’t sure if it was from the cold air or the look in his eye as he greedily took her in.

When his eyes dragged back up to hers, she bit her lip.

With confidant, sure hands, Oliver interlaced his fingers with hers, urging her to step out of her dress. She didn’t ask about the shoes - she knew he liked them on.

He spun her, pressing his chest to her back as he wrapped his arm around her hip, a firm hand gripping her hip bone to keep her in place as his other hand moved achingly slow down her stomach, making her shiver and arch into him as he slid his fingers into her thong.

Felicity gasped, her head falling back on his shoulder, his fingers slipping through the slick heat that had been pooling since the instant he said, “You, Felicity Meghan Smoak, are mine.”

His fingers dipped down to her entrance, pressing past her nether lips, dipping into her wetness before sliding back up to her clit and she whimpered his name, turning to wrap herself around him.

“Don’t move, Felicity,” he said tightly.

She dropped her hands instantly at the gruff command, shuddering under his touch as pleasure blossomed inside her. She glanced down at where his hand disappeared into her thong, and a rush of arousal seared through her, a rush of warmth coating his fingers and her panties at the sight.

Oliver’s jaw was clenched, his body hard against her quickly melting one as he caressed her delicate nubbin. His fingers pressed harder, demanding more, sliding over the more sensitive right side and she jerked in his arms.

He rubbed, in deep, even strokes, igniting a fire deep in her stomach that started to spread like fire in her veins, spiraling out from her center as he ground against her, their bodies swaying in time with his touch.

“Oh god,” Felicity whispered, digging her nails into her thigh to keep from grabbing him as white hot pressure started coiling inside her.

Her legs felt like liquid as the pleasure grew headier - it was like a large boulder settling inside her, growing heavier with each of his commanding strokes, pushing her forward, urging more out of her. She started trembling against him, and he held her closer, keeping her anchored as his hand moved.

“Oliver,” she keeled, dropping her head back against his shoulder again and Oliver pressed his face into her neck, his lips finding her ear. His hot lips sucked on her earlobe and then he bit down gently, making her cry out.

“Say it, Felicity,” he whispered harshly, his hand moving faster. “Say it.”

“Y-yours,” she gasped, her mind staring to scatter as her release built. “I’m yours. Yours… yours… yours…”

A low moan sounded from deep in her chest. Her hips moved of their own accord against his hand, seeking more friction, more pressure, just more and he delivered, his hand rubbing her clit harder, stroking her in tight little circles that had her sharp cries echoing through the apartment before it hit.

Felicity came with a shout, her back bowing, Oliver gripping her hip and cupping his hand over her sex to keep her in place. The hard dig of his fingers against her sensitive skin propelled her into a sharper orgasm, one that knocked her legs right out from under her.

Oliver’s arm wrapped around her waist, catching her before she could fall and he stepped back a few paces, carrying her with him. He found the couch and he pulled her down with him, situating her limp, pleasure-numbed body over his.

It took her a few minutes to realize his hand was still in her panties, her back pressed to his heaving chest.

Her legs were hooked over his thighs, his legs spread, stretching her wide open to him.

She blinked, trying to catch her breath, and she found her lungs incapable of anything past existing when his other hand slipped into her panties as well, three fingers pressing to her soaking entrance as his other hand slowly stroked her abused clit.

“Oliver,” she whined, arching her back, not sure if she wanted to get closer or further away.

“One more time,” Oliver grunted in her ear, his hips jerking up against her ass, his hard cock straining against his pants as he thrust all three fingers into her.











Variations On The Word Love Poem by Margaret Atwood

This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace
and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn't what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.

Then there's the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It's a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside. You can
hold on or let go.