hmm what else to gif

The Perks of Being a Mayor

AN:  So last little epilogue in this series, some smutty fluff.  I can’t believe I wrote almost 16k words and 35 pages worth of extras.  This turned into more than I thought it would and if you want to read it in order:  We can’t keep doing this, Arrow Spec 05x01, Are You Over Me? (Deleted Scene), Arrow Spec 05x02, A Fresh Start.

Oliver and Felicity sit closely together on the couch, an old classic Hollywood film, Robin Hood, is playing.  They lean against each other, holding hands, her head against his shoulder; he’s got one arm wrapped around her.  

They look relaxed and happy.  Oliver looks down at Felicity, an affectionate smile playing on his lips. He brushes his lips against the top of her head, her concentration broken, Felicity glances up at him and smiles.

He can’t help it, her smiling face tipped up towards him is too inviting, he leans down placing a chaste kiss on her lips, but the kiss lingers.

She turns back to the screen, momentarily distracted by Robin climbing the trellis to win a kiss from Maid Marian in the movie.  But, Oliver is not distracted; he’s completely refocused on her.  He ducks his head down to place small kisses on her cheek, her jawline, her neck, pulling her hair away from her face with his hand; he kisses her earlobe, sucking the fleshy lobe into his mouth.

Felicity lets him, enjoying the sensation, but says, “Watch.  This is the best part.”  Oliver doesn’t stop, clearly not watching, still committed to sucking on the little tender spot, the bony hollow of her clavicle; his hands wander downward.  She closes her eyes at the sensation of him nuzzling her neck, his big hands squeezing her waist, pulling her closer.  

He pulls them both down from a sitting position, though at this point, they’ve drifted to a forty-five degree angle, to a spooning position on the couch. Oliver leans down to kiss her more thoroughly, sucking her top lip into his mouth, sliding his tongue roughly between her lips.  The rhythm floods her with warmth and wetness, a dull throb beating time inside her. He slides his fingers beneath her t-shirt, along the smooth planes of her stomach, skimming his hand up to her breast, squeezing lightly while his other hand inches downward, beneath the fabric, heading for the juncture of her thighs.  She squirms in pleasure, but uses her own hand to stay his from delving too deeply, murmuring.  “Oliver.”

“What,” he hums into her neck, brushing his lips back and forth across her skin.

“We can’t do this.”  He stills, then smiles amused, “this again?  I thought we resolved this.”  His thumb makes lazy little circles on her skin.

“No,” she sighs whispering, “my mom could walk in any minute.”

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