The Phoenix Pt3

by SuperSillyAndDorky06

20. Glowing

21. Burning

22. Crackling

23. Some Say The World Will End In Fire

24. Three. Two. One. Burn.

25. Fire And Ice

26. Purging

27. Purified

20. Glowing

Felicity rolled over with a groan, feeling muscles in her body she hadn't even known had
existed till this morning.

She felt Oliver slowly trace her spine like he had taken to doing, and involuntarily
pressed her still naked body into his. The morning light filtered in through the curtains,
keeping the room in semi-darkness.

Felicity looked up at him and raised her hand, tracing his jaw with her fingers, and his
sleepy eyes drifted open, a sleepy smile tugging on his lips. He looked at her for long
moments, his fingers tracing her naked skin well below her waist before coming back
up, the sleepiness slowly fading as his gaze became sharper.

"Are you sore?" he asked in that sleepy, low voice that had somehow attached itself
right to her groin sometime last night.

She flushed a little at the question, which was ridiculous considering how intimate the
had been, and Oliver raised a hand to her warm cheek, pulling the one on her lip closer.
"Tell me."

Her breathing fastened and she looked at his throat, shrugging. The heat pooling at the
juncture of her thighs told her to keep her mouth shut. She felt her husband sigh and
start to pull back and clasped her hands to him, keeping him in place.

"Oliver..." she began but he shook his head firmly.

"No, Felicity. Not until you heal."

Frustration rose within her in a wave and she swamped it down, pushing on his chest
while hiking her leg around his waist, putting him on his back, and knowing his
strength like she did and how he had flipped her like a pancake multiple times last
night, she knew that he let her. Straddling him, feeling his naked body under her,
rubbing her breasts over his chest, rejoicing in the hiss that followed it, she flexed her
hips instinctively and his hands shot up to hold her waist still, completely immobilizing
her hips. Knowing how this was affecting him, feeling the evidence of his growing
arousal against her stomach, she leaned down, lining her mouth beside his ear and
nibbled slowly on his lobe.

"Look up, Oliver," she whispered as seductively as she could, running her hands over his
chest. "Look at the two of us. Naked. Entwined."

She heard his breath hitch as he did and smiled, feeling bolder than she ever had. She
had no reason to be ashamed. This was her husband and they had shared so much
intimacy last night and she finally did trust him.
"This is what I looked at last night," she continued in the same husky voice. "When you
were going down on me. When you head was buried south. When you were moving in
me. When you wrapped my legs over your waist. When you pounded. This is what I was
looking at and it was glorious. Look at that mirror, Oliver. See me move."

Suddenly, she was flat on her back with him looming over her, his eyes fevered like hers
probably were, and he growled low, letting her look up at the mirror as he moved to her
ear.

"You want me, Felicity?" he started and continued before she could answer. "And have
me you will. I will take you anywhere you want, anytime you want, however you want."

Felicity's heart thumped wildly and her hands tightened on his biceps. He continued. "I
will take you so hard and so fast your head will spin with the number of times you came
and I will take you so slowly you'll beg me to go faster. Oh, I will take you, солнешко,
over and over and over again, till you forget what's it is like not having me inside you."

Her cheeks were so heated and her pulse pounding so hard it was a miracle she wasn't
attacking him already. Not that she could. He had pancaked her again.

Oliver pulled back, looking down at her with heated eyes, his bedroom voice making her
wetter than she was, his words making her chest heave. "Oh, I will have you, Felicity.
But only after you heal. I can't take any pleasure knowing you'd be in pain. So heal, and
I'll do whatever you want me to."

She groaned at his pigheadedness, slumping down on the pillow, scowling at him. "You
won't have sex with me again?"

"Not while you are sore, no," he replied firmly.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to trigger his possessiveness and get the wild side out.
"You know that I can just take a handsome man and do what I wish? I know what my
body is capable of now."

Oliver's lips tugged up, clearly calling her out on her bluff and he spoke softly. "Yes, but
none of them will have what I do?"

She raised her eyebrows, ready to smack him if he referred in the slightest to his size,
either of his ego or his erection. "And what is that?"

"A ceiling mirror."

Felicity blinked at him before laughter burst out from her and she clutched his neck,
laughing in fits, shaking her head. She looked up to see him smiling softly down at her
and shook her head again. "You are incorrigible."

"And you have a thing for the mirror," he said. "Don't think I didn't notice last night."

She looked at him, grinning, completely unabashed in her desires. "So, no sex till my
lady parts aren't swollen. Okay. Can you at least kiss me? On the mouth I meant.
Although I did mean something else last night, but it..."

Her words were swallowed by his mouth moving over hers, and she realized how
swollen her lips were as well. Ignoring it, she pulled on his hair, kissing him with fervor,
and he kissed her back, the passion between them erupting as they pressed into each
other, the hunger for him gnawing inside her.

She spread her legs slightly, wrapping them around him and Oliver pulled back with a
grumble. "You are making this hard for me, солнешко."

A devious grin took her face. "That's the idea, Oliver. Hard is good."
This time, it was he who burst out laughing, shaking his head at her. "I have unleashed
a monster, haven't I?"

"Oh, you have no idea, Mr. Queen," she grinned back, pecking him on the lips again,
elated that she could, whenever she wanted.

Oliver pulled away and hopped off the bed in a smooth motion, his naked body bare to
her eyes. He came around the bed to her side and she looked at him in surprise, seeing
how hard he still was. Swooping down, he picked her up in his arms, a small shriek
leaving her and her arms coming around his neck to hold onto him, knowing he'd never
drop her.

He walked into the bathroom, setting her down on her feet in front of the mirror and
went ahead, so confident in his nakedness, towards the tub and started filling it. Felicity
shuffled on her feet, turning towards the mirror and a gasp left her, her eyes widening.
Roving over her body, her eyes mapped her once clear skin. It was now littered with
small red marks, some pink, some deep red, from her inner thighs to her hips to her
breasts and her neck to her face. Her neck.

Oh boy, she looked like she had been a meal on the buffet and Oliver had helped himself
to multiple servings. He had literally eaten her and marked her and a part of her was
mad beyond belief at his barbaric act and another part was aroused beyond belief. She
just stood there, staring at the different shades of different marks on her body, the
memory behind each one assaulting her. Hickeys. Beard burns. Bee stung mouth. She
was married to one of the most dangerous men of the Bratva and he had given her dang
hickeys and beard burns and chewed her lips out.

She turned to look at him to find him watching her carefully, his own eyes mapping the
bite and nibble marks with something very possessive flashing in his eyes. She wouldn't
put it past him. He was a self proclaimed possessive man. And the way his eyes
scrutinized her body, it was unnerving her, making her slightly conscious despite
everything.

"This is not okay, Oliver," she turned to the mirror, trying to cover herself very subtly,
changing the subject. "I have to go out and meet people, you know. And these giant
marks are so not going to be covered by concealer. Everyone will know I had wild sex
with my wild husband just looking at my neck, not to mention the rest of my body!"

She looked up in the mirror as he stepped behind her, pulling her arms away from her
body, apparently having noticed her slight bout of nerves. Well, obviously he had. Did
anything even get past the man?

"Felicity," he said softly, his eyes locked on hers in the reflection. "The only one seeing
this body is going to be me. As for the marks," he shrugged and she narrowed her eyes.

"Oliver, if we are going to have sex..."

"When we are going to have sex," he corrected.

"Fine," she said. "When. You need to lighten up on the hickeys."

Oliver's eyes pierced hers and he asked. "Do they hurt?"

She blinked back at him. "No. They kind of throb but they don't hurt."

Oliver relaxed and gave a non-committal shrug that had her raising her eyebrows. Her
eyes went to the now full tub and she watched as Oliver climbed in, leaning against the
rim, and looked at her expectantly.

They were taking a bath together. Okay, nerves and butterflies. Taking a deep breath,
she stepped over to the tub and looked down, not understanding which way to sit and
how to get in. It was a really big tub but still.
Oliver smiled up at her and raised his hand, extending it to her and she took it without
hesitation, trusting him to guide her through this as well. She stepped into the tub, the
hot water tickling her skin, and looked at him.

"Sit down. Against me," Oliver ordered softly and she bit her lip, sitting down between
his legs, gripping the sides of the tub as the hot water washed over her body, a groan
leaving her as the movement pulled at the muscles between her legs.

Oliver's hands came up to hers, easing her grip on the tub and his low voice reached her
ear. "Lean back against me, солнешко."

She did and felt the hot water lapping up to her neck, his hard, muscular body behind
her. Oliver's hands traced her sides as he pressed soft, feather kisses on her neck, right
over the marks.

"I have wanted this for so long," he muttered against her skin and she felt her heart
clench.

"We could have had this way sooner had you told me the truth in the beginning," she
whispered back, without any accusation.

"And would you have believed me at all?"

She sighed, "No."

Oliver continued pressing kisses on her neck, his stubble rasping over her skin, sending
tingles down her spine. The hot water was softly massaging her sore muscles, feeling so
relaxing that she leaned into him completely.

After a few seconds, she felt him hook his legs under hers, and spread her wide, the hot
water now lapping right at her core, a mewl escaping her at the sensation. She knew he
was doing this because the hot water on her sore muscles would relax her but it wasn't.
It was wounding her up tighter and the heat was pooling low in her belly and she could
still feel him hard at her back and she had had enough.

She turned her neck, offering her mouth up for a kiss and he didn't disappoint, softly
twining their lips together, sipping from her very tenderly, like he didn't want to cause
her any more discomfort. The gesture touched her but she needed him to touch her too.
She held his hands, and put them straight on her breasts, squeezing them though his
huge hands and arching into it.

He took over, softly massaging her breasts, pinching her nipple, the sensation shooting
straight to her core, all the while kissing her softly. He continued this for minutes,
doing nothing more and she felt herself getting frustrated.

"Oliver," she hissed at him and he removed his hands, resting them on her waist, the
regret in his eyes too stark to not be genuine. "Trust me, Felicity. I'd love nothing more
than to give you the pleasure you want right now. But you are so sensitive, you won't be
able to walk properly. I need you to heal too, to know."

Oh, he had blue balls too. That gave her a weird sense of satisfaction, that she was not
alone in this sexual frustration.

With a huff, she leaned back against him, in a state of constant arousal, and closed her
eyes, relishing his hard body and the hot water.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The state of constant arousal had continued throughout the day, but it had been pushed
on the back burner on occasions.

Roy was ahead of his healing schedule, and he was recuperating really well. When
Felicity had gone to see him in the morning, wearing a dress, dark lipstick to cover up
her swollen mouth and a scarf around her neck, understanding what Oliver had meant
by it being hard to walk, because holy pygmy puff, her muscles were reminding her with
every step exactly what she had done last night in Technicolor. Like she had needed that
too. Roy had looked at the scarf, grinning, and Felicity had shrugged him off in a blase
manner, quickly escaping before he could say anything. And wherever she had gone in
the house, people had looked at the scarf like it was a board in neon saying "I just had
sex last night and this scarf is to cover up marks that my very enthusiastic husband left
on my neck and concealers raised their white flags for".

Well, that's probably exactly what it implied but seriously, hadn't these people ever seen
a scarf for goodness' sake!

She had walked into Thea who had grinned openly, raising her eyebrows, made a witty
comment and Felicity had fled. Then Diggle had made it worse just by twitching his lips
and raising his eyebrows and Felicity had grit her teeth and entered Oliver's study, to
talk about Ilyich.

And that had been the last straw.

She stood as he looked at her scarf, then back at her, his annoying eyebrow high on his
head and she snapped.

"Don't you dare give me that look!" she said, walking to his desk, a finger pointed at
him. "It is because of you that I have to wear a scarf on a hot day."
His lips twitched and she glared at him. "Felicity, your scarf is moot."

She folded her arms across herself. "Really, and why is that?"

His eyes softened on her face. "Because there is a small see-through portion."

Her eyes widened as she looked down, ripping it away from her neck and checked. How
the hell had she missed it?!

"It's all your fault. Dang heat of the moment!" she muttered, folding the scarf in a way to
avoid the see-through portion.

The door opened and she wrapped the scarf quickly around her neck. A man peeked in.

"Anatoly Knyazev is here to see you, Mr. Queen," he said.

Felicity stilled and her gaze flew to her husband's, who nodded at him, coming from
behind his desk and standing beside her.

A few seconds later, the door opened and Anatoly came in, smiling at Felicity. "Моя
милая принцесса."

Felicity walked over to him, hugging him tightly. "My favorite uncle."

He pulled away to shake hands with Oliver, who then directed them to the sofas on the
other side of the room.

Felicity sat down beside Oliver, feeling his arm behind her on the head rest, and Anatoly
sat opposite them, looking at both.
"Firstly," he began in his Russian accent, "I want to thank you, Oliver. I am happy that I
did not lie when I told Felicity you were a good man. You proved it again. You have
earned my gratitude and loyalty for life."

Oliver nodded, not saying anything, letting Anatoly continue. "Secondly, after you left, I
spoke to Viktor. About Ilyich. And tried to find whatever I could about the man. Viktor
told me that since Felicity married you, Ilyich is not happy with him and he has gone
out of touch with him, because he was supposed to have her, and he will come for her,
dead or alive."

"That won't be happening," Oliver stated firmly.

Anatoly nodded. "I agree. What have you planned?"

Oliver kept his hard mask up, the one she had seen him use with all Bratva members, no
hint of the tender lover or the playful man from the morning in his face. "I am planning
to shut down Ilyich, completely, like I had meant to do years ago. But I cannot locate
him."

Anatoly rubbed his chin, thoughtful. "There might be something."

Felicity felt herself lean forward. "What?"

Anatoly looked at both of them, speaking in a quiet voice. "A few months ago, I heard of
this man who handled everything for Ilyich. Yulian Olegovich."

She felt Oliver tense slightly and turned to him. "You know him?"

He shook his head. "I know someone who works for him." He nodded at Anatoly.
"Continue."
Anatoly took a deep breath. "Now, Viktor is the one who handled the human side of the
business. Yulian is rumored to handle the drugs. And he had been with Ilyich for a very
long time. So, we find Yulian."

Oliver nodded, his right hand fingers rubbing together in a tic she had come to
recognize in him. "Where can we find him?"

Anatoly held up his hand and took out his phone, calling someone, talking rapidly in
Russian. Felicity felt herself tensing more and more and suddenly Oliver's hand was on
her spine, stroking it, soothing her. She looked up at him, her hand on his thigh, and
smiled softly.

Cutting the call, Anatoly spoke again and Felicity turned her attention back to him.
"Yulian is not in town. He's coming in a few days."

Oliver cursed and Felicity pat his leg, speaking. "Do you know if these guys use
computers? For information?"

She felt Oliver's sharp gaze on her and Anatoly frowned. "As a matter of fact they do.
The accounts are hard to keep."

"So that means there might be something worth looking for in the computers?"

Anatoly nodded. "Yes, there would. And in fact, there is a party tonight, the invitation
for which we got a month ago. The venue is Yulian's house."

Felicity leaned forward, excitement raking over. "So, we can go to the party and I can
infiltrate their computer system and get whatever information we need to dismantle
Ilyich."

Oliver cleared his throat and she looked at his angry eyes. "You are not going into the
house of Ilyich's associate, Felicity."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes I am. In case if you forgot, I am not safe anywhere.
My father was an associate. He got me in this mess. So, I am going."

Oliver clenched his jaw and turned to Anatoly. "Could you get an invitation for me?"

Anatoly nodded, looking between the two of them curiously. "And Viktor will be there
as well. So will I."

Oliver stood up, shaking his hand. "I'll be in touch."

Anatoly shook back his hand. "I'll let you know."

He then hugged Felicity one more time, his eyes lingering on her scarf, and left with a
smile.

Felicity waited for the door to shut and saw Oliver go behind his desk again, following
him angrily.

"I am going to that party, Oliver," she stated, crossing her arms across her chest.

"No, you are not," he replied, opening a file.

"Oh, yes, I am."

He looked up at her, pinning her with his cool blue gaze and she glared back, not
budging an inch. "You want me safe? Awesome. I want me safe too. And the only way
we can do that is by getting Ilyich off my back as soon as possible."

Suddenly, he had her sitting on the desk, stepping between her legs, his arms beside her
thighs, caging her in.

He looked at her, completely serious and intense. "I am not going to let you walk into
the lion's den, Felicity."

She looked at him, sighing, knowing he wouldn't get it with anger. She softly touched
his hair, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Oliver, you'll be there with me. So will
DIgg and Anatoly. I'll be fine."

Oliver searched her eyes for long minutes, and she knew he would find nothing but
certainty in her gaze. She believed him. In him.

"I know you'll keep me safe," she muttered.

"I will."

She smiled softly. "Then what's the problem?"

He leaned his forehead against hers. "The problem is that every instinct in me wants to
keep you away from even the possibility of a threat."

Her heart clenched at his words and she rubbed his nose in an Eskimo kiss. "Then, let's
put Ilyich down."

Oliver sighed, his shoulders slumping and wrapped his arms around her, burying his
face in her hair, communicating everything without actually saying anything at all.
Felicity hugged him tighter, letting him take whatever reassurance he needed, knowing
this was as hard for him as it was for her, and that knowledge actually gave her the
strength she needed. He was here with her. She pulled him closer.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity got dressed in a black chiffon gown with lace sleeves and a deep back. The one
scandalizing feature of the gown was the split on her leg that went almost to her hip.
She pulled her hair up in a sleek chignon, and was dabbing her neck with another layer
of concealer, standing in front of the bathroom mirror when she heard Oliver call out
her name. She gave herself a once over, feeling good, looking good, and walked out on
her gold heels, stopping dead in her tracks.

Oliver stood looking through his phone, in black crisp trousers, a white crisp shirt, and
suspenders. He was wearing fucking suspenders and standing there like her ovaries
were not doing a samba inside her body. Her eyes roved over his taut muscles,
highlighted by the stark white of his shirt, muscles that she had felt flexing under her
hands, muscles whose power she knew. She stood there, salivating, feeling the dull
throbbing in her core become an ache.

He looked up at her, and stilled, his own eyes doing a lot of roving before coming back
to hers, heated and mirroring exactly what she was feeling, the bulge in his pants
getting a little more obvious. With her eyes locked on his, she sauntered forward,
adding an extra sway to her hips and stood in front of him, giving him enough time to
tell her no. He didn't say a thing, just watched her with those fevered blue eyes.

"I have always wanted to try something," she murmured, callback to last night before
she ripped his shirt open.

She saw him raise his eyebrow but stay silent. She put her hands on his chest, feeling
the tensed muscle, the hard pecs under the cotton, her hands traveling across the
expanse of his torso before her hands found their mark. She gripped the suspenders in
her fist and pulled, hard, watching the surprise flare in his eyes momentarily before she
touched his lips.

"FYI," she whispered against his mouth. "I have a thing for suspenders too."

With that, she planted her mouth more solidly with his, craning her neck despite her
heels to kiss him, and suddenly, she felt his hand go under the split on her gown, hiking
her leg over his hips and his other hand press into the small of her back. She knew he
had wanted to bury it in her hair but had stopped himself from ruining it and she smiled
against his lips, opening her mouth for him, gripping his suspenders tighter and pulling
on them harder.

They kissed like that for long minutes, just making out like two lust-crazed lovers, still
mindful of each others clothing (except her- she had no regards whatsoever for his
suspenders). The hot clash of tongues slowly transformed into something softer, the
sounds coming from her matched by his hard breathing, and he pulled away, breathing
heavily.

"We need to leave now if you don't want me to rip that dress off you," he ground out
through gritted teeth.

A giggle left her at his words, at how on edge he was, and with a sudden burst of
courage, she put her hand right over his erection, feeling it in her hand for the first
time.

He hissed and then growled out her name, his hand clasping around her wrist, stopping
any movement.

"I'll let go on one condition," she said softly, caressing him, feeling him grow bigger.
He breathed through his mouth. "What?"

She leaned up against his mouth again. "Tonight, when we get home, you rip this dress
off me and we have sex. Great sex. I'm better."

Oliver looked at her, the wild look in his eyes so primitive that she felt for a second he
would do so just then. But he leaned in, plundering her mouth in a rough, wild kiss
before stepping away and straightening himself, picking up his jacket while she picked
up her clutch.

They exited the room and went down the stairs, Oliver speaking for a moment to Thea,
who complimented her on her dress before getting in the Bentley with Diggle at the
wheel.

Felicity crossed her legs on purpose, the slit revealing her entire leg to the hip almost,
and felt Oliver's eyes on the skin. She smiled deviously at her handsome husband,
looking outside the window when she felt Oliver's hand on the leg.

He was looking outside as well, but his thumb kept rubbing circles on the flesh, the
need in her coiling tighter and tighter with every circle of his thumb. Was it possible to
come just from the caress of a thumb? Or spontaneously combust? Both seemed highly
likely now.

They discussed the plan along the way, like they had the afternoon, and Felicity just
dreaded seeing her father again, with her clueless mother.

The car pulled up in front of a huge iron gate which opened and then they entered the
grounds of a huge mansion, larger than her own home.

Digg nodded at both of them, stopping the car. "I'll just park it out."
Oliver nodded, opening his door and coming to her side, giving her his hand. She looked
up at him, exiting the car, her leg peeking out, and took a deep breath.

She felt Oliver's hand slide around her waist, familiar and safe, and gave herself a nod,
sliding her own around his.

With a soft reassuring squeeze, they entered the house.

21. Burning

Felicity's eyes scanned the house. Very huge. And very tasteful.

This Yulian guy might be a creep of the highest order but she could admit to him being
a tasteful creep. Unless it had been an interior decorator and the man had no taste at all.
The foyer was done in deep beige and cream, with two doormen dressed in royal blue
uniforms welcoming the many guests inside the house with a flourish. Showmanship,
huh. Felicity held onto Oliver's waist and walked in confidently, her eyes taking
everything around her. The foyer finished and opened up into a huge hall, ornately
decorated in the same beige but with black and cream. A set of tall windows were to one
side, a French balcony on the other. A huge chandelier dangled from the center of the
ceiling. So much money. Blood money. Like the one she had been brought up on.

Feeling the same discomfort she felt every time she thought of it, she shook it off and
saw the horde of women welcoming the guests, especially the male guests, into the area,
dressed in blood red same dresses. Seeing a few women eye Oliver, Felicity pressed
herself closer to him, feeling his arm tighten on her waist, and smiled sweetly at the
women. They backed off. Good.

Walking in, she saw the champagne flowing freely on the trays and she marveled at the
fact that she didn't even know what the party was for. And it was a party. Men in
expensive suits and women in expensive jewellery buzzed around the place, some
familiar from over years of parties, some complete strangers. The further they walked
the more she could feel Oliver's body tense beside her. Knowing how adamantly against
the idea he had been since the beginning, she quietly rubbed his side soothingly,
reassuring him while keeping a smile pasted on her face.

Felicity saw two men, dressed in high end suits with high end women on their arms,
head towards them, mainly towards Oliver. They came and looked her up an down
before addressing Oliver, discussing some business matter or the other, and Felicity
tuned them out, looking around the hall, mentally mapping out the likely place the
office would be, only Oliver's thumb rubbing her hip in circles keeping her from
shuffling like she wanted to.

The men left, after exchanging polite smiles with her once they knew she was the wife
(and not the mistress like the men in this world usually kept). And that reminded her of
something that she had been wanting to ask him for a long time, but never had gotten
the chance to.

"Oliver?" she said quietly.

He gazed down at her, with those blue eyes and that look which made her feel warm and
cocooned. She tilted her head. "You once told me that your men knew better than to
look at me in a certain way, that you had ensured it."

He raised an eyebrow, silently saying a loud 'So?'

She rolled her eyes. "So, what did you do to ensure that?"

His expression became wary and her antennas stood on alert. "What did you do,
Oliver?"
He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Anatoly coming to their side, and
she saw Oliver don back his hard mask, the one he always wore with most people.

Anatoly accompanied his beautiful wife, Tania, who had been a surrogate mother to her
growing up, just like Anatoly had been another father, much better than her own she
realized ruefully. They had loved her like their child and she smiled seeing them,
missing them so much. Tania hugged her tightly, keeping her at arms length to
scrutinize her with her warm brown eyes, in her lovely grey dress.

"Marriage becomes you, Felicity," she commented, casting her gaze at Oliver. "She
glows. This makes me happy."

Oliver tilted his head with a small smile, looking down at her, his arm tightening
possessively over her waist. "She has always glowed, Mrs. Knyazev."

Felicity looked up at him, seeing something bare for her eyes only, the look that made
her think of beds and mirrors and baths and basically every flat surface she could think
of, and her breath hitched. She heard Anatoly clear his throat as he looked at them, and
Felicity blushed, fidgeting slightly, willing her mind out of the gutter.

Tania chat with her for a few minutes, asking her about the marriage and the house,
before making her way to someone else, leaving them alone with Anatoly. Suddenly
serious, Anatoly took the two of them in.

"The study in is the third corridor to the right," he began softly. "There are two men
guarding it. You'll have to be quick and get out before others come. Explaining your
presence might be difficult in the room."

Nodding solemnly, Felicity paused, looking around. "Where is father?"

It was the first time she was referring to the man like that. He wasn't Dad anymore.

Anatoly sighed. "He is not coming. He told your mother he was not well."

Seeing the way Anatoly's mouth twisted in bitter anger, she felt slightly placated. She
nodded again and watched Anatoly leave after clapping Oliver on the shoulder. Feeling
Oliver guiding her towards the end of the hall, she started walking.

They made their way slowly, going towards the second corridor and she understood that
Oliver would scale it to go into the next one. Being careful, while a few people stopped
Oliver and made small talk, she covertly scanned the room for eyes on them and saw
three guards watching them. Yulian's men. They'd have to get out real fast. And this felt
more and more like a bad idea by the minute.

She gulped and continued to walk to the corridor, speaking almost imperceptibly.
"Oliver, there are men watching us go in."

Oliver didn't stop. "I know."

She looked up at him in confusion, frowning. "So, what are we going to do? We can't
just walk in like that."

Oliver didn't reply but they were almost at the corridor and suddenly, he pushed her
against the wall at the start, in view of part of the hall, and her heart hammered as she
understood.

"Seriously?" she raised her eyebrows despite her thundering pulse. "That's your genius
plan? Make them think we are two bunnies looking to jack hammer?"

A corner of his mouth curled up at her words and he shrugged, his big hand clasping
around her thigh over the raunchy slit, and hiking it over his hips, pushing into her.
Despite the situation, she could feel his rapidly hardening erection and her breath
faltered, her hands going under his jacket, her fingers tightening around his suspenders.
Dang suspenders. She rubbed herself against him, knowing this was for show, but still
getting hotter by the second because this was Oliver and he had made her panties bunch
since forever just by breathing.

He suddenly pulled back, grinding against her one last time, and pulled her by the hand
inside the corridor. To any prying eyes who had seem them dry hump each other, it
would seem like they were looking to do the deed. Which they were. But not here,
despite the tasteful house. Nope. In their own house. Bed. With the mirror. Flat
surfaces. Technicalities.

Shaking her head at her fused brain, she followed his lead, turning right with him
towards a darker, narrower corridor.

Oliver pushed her against the wall again (he seriously had a thing with walls and her
and that had her thinking of flat surfaces again), and looked down at her intensely.

"I have a bad feeling about this, солнешко," he whispered softly. "Let's go back. We can
find Ilyich some other way."

Felicity's stomach turned at his uncertainty. She took his face in her hands, looking up
at him solemnly. "Oliver, this is the biggest chance we'll get. And it'll take only two
minutes for me on that computer. We can go back then."

He pressed their foreheads together, his hands gripping her waist, and ground out
roughly. "You get this done and I swear I will not let you out of the bed for a week."

Her blood heated even as she smiled. "Is that a bribe?"

"A promise," he said just as seriously.

She bit her lip, marveling at how quickly this man could arouse her and make her
combust. He leaned in, biting the lip she had bitten, kissing her so softly. She moaned
and pulled him closer, and felt the tenor of the kiss change. It was still slow, but the
softness was gone, replaced by an intensity she associated with him, firing her blood
even more. Their tongues melded and danced with each other but he kept kissing her
like he was chasing something away, holding her like he wouldn't let go. And it was
scaring her. Not his intensity, but this kiss. This was the kind of kiss lovers shared when
they knew they wouldn't see each other again. And it was scaring her big time.

She let him kiss her for long minutes, kissing him back fervently, her heart hammering
in her chest in both arousal and fear, before they pulled away, needing air.

Slowly seeing his face harden, his fighting mode kick in, he kissed her one last time
before straightening up, asking her silently to stay put.

She saw him lean over the wall, looking into the next corridor and mapping who was
where, before he disappeared into it, quiet and smooth, like a panther on the prowl.
Sounds of grunts and soft hits came before everything was silent. Curiosity bubbling in
her, she wanted to peek in and see what was happening but he contained herself. He
had asked her to stay put for good reason. She had to trust him and quench her
curiosity. Inhaling deeply, she stayed against the wall, waiting as the seconds ticked by
for him to come and give her the proverbial green light.

He didn't.

The twisting in her gut worsened and her nails dug into her palms as she took one step
forward. Why wasn't he coming back?

Just as she was about to step into the corridor, everything else be damned, Oliver came
back, breathing heavily, extending his hand to her. Inhaling her relief, she took it and
walked hurriedly to a door in the middle of the dimly lit corridor, looking at the five
unconscious men on the ground. Anatoly had said there would be only two. How the
hell were there ~five?~

She got into the room and felt Oliver enter behind her, quickly shutting the door. It was
dark inside and she let her eyes acclimate for a second. Without any preamble, she
hurried to the computer on the desk, taking a thumb drive out of her clutch and
connecting it to the computer. While it loaded, her eyes went to the desk- there were
pens and files and papers and a bottle on wine behind the computer. Seriously? Didn't
these people know how bad liquids were with these systems? Amateurs. Shaking her
head, she glanced briefly at Oliver who stood at the door, alert and tensed, and got back
into the system in front of her, tapping away at the keys, looking for information on
Ilyich.

And her search came across a file on the place of operation. Bingo.

Quickly transferring all the information to the drive, she looked around for any other
thing she might have missed.

"How long?" Oliver's low voice asked, curt.

"Almost done," she replied, tapping away, finding nothing new except that one folder.
Nodding, she quickly shut the computer down and put the thumb drive in her cleavage,
coming around the desk just as the door burst open and five more men walked in.

Oliver quickly fought off two men, putting them on the ground while two other came
around to detain him. The fifth man, clearly the leader, came towards her and she
stepped back against the table, putting her hands behind her, feeling the desk for any
weapon.

"Felicity Smoak," the man began in very thick Russian accent, smiling lewdly at her.
"It's Smoak-Queen," she corrected in a hard voice, her eyes drifting to Oliver where two
men lay at his feet and two stood behind him with guns in their hands, trained at his
head. She could see his body wound so tight, vibrating with the need to strike out the
men in the room, and she knew he could in seconds. She had seen him best better and
more men. But she shook her head imperceptibly, their gazes locked, telling him to
wait. This leech in front of her might just still talk.

Speaking of the leech, tall but stout, wore an expensive suit, his dark beard trimmed
close to his face, hiding a few scars that she could still see, his green eyes glacial, his
smile making her skin crawl.

"You have been more trouble than you are worth," he said, stepping towards her, and
Felicity felt that bottle of wine behind her, and thanked the amateurs who had left it
there.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice frigid despite her trembling body.

The man chuckled in that evil way only villains could chuckle. "Ah, forgive my manners.
I am Yulian and this is my home."

Yulian. This was Ilyich's right hand man. They had lucked out.

The man stepped into her personal space and her skin revolted, wanting to put distance
between them. She stayed put, quiet. This man was an arrogant bastard and hopefully,
he would gloat now, at having caught them. He might just reveal more.

"Ilyich heard you were looking for him," he continued, raising a finger and touching her
cheek with it. She saw Oliver twitch, itching to put them down but shook her head.

Yulian grinned, his tobacco stained teeth looking ugly. "He has been looking for you
too. Your father went back on his deal, gave you to Queen. But you were never Queen's.
You had been Ilyich's for a long time. And he will have you."

Swallowing down bile, she looked at him in disgust, provoking him. "Really? He will?"

"Oh yes," he said, turning to Oliver with a malicious grin. "He may even make you
watch as he takes her. I am certain he will make you watch when she screams. Does she
scream? Or is it a whimper? She is a small little thing, isn't she? Ilyich will break her
open."

Oh boy. This man was dead. She looked at Oliver, who had already killed Yulian in his
head in ways she couldn't even comprehend, from the looks of it. And now the man had
sealed his fate. He was so dead. And her disgust with him didn't even make her feel
sorry for this ugly piece of rat.

Felicity beseeched Oliver to hold on a little longer, seeing how close he was to snapping
in the way his body was stilling. One thing she had learned about him was that when he
was vibrating, moving, he was angry. His stillness was the danger. His stillness was a
bone-deep rage. And right now, he was very still. She was pretty sure Yulian would have
been dead minutes ago had it not been for her telling Oliver no. And she knew he
wouldn't listen much longer.

"Are you going to take me to Russia, now?" she asked, injecting worry in her voice.

Yulian, like the sucker he was for big eyes, turned to her and laughed. "Russia? No. He
has a base right here and he has been here for weeks, for you. You should be honored
that he did all that for you."

Honored, her ass.

Okay. So Ilyich was in the city. Good. She hated international flights.
"So, you are telling me he has been near my house this entire time I have been
married?" she asked, blinking up at him.

The man grinned. "You have no idea how close he has been. And now you will. I will
take you there."

He leaned in closer to her, the tobacco on his breath making her stomach convulse, her
grip on the bottle tightening. "I might even take you in the car for myself. Wound
Queen. And make him watch that too."

He mouth curled in disgust as she brought her hand out from behind her, smashing the
bottle against his skull and watching Oliver finally unleash himself on the two
distracted men, having them on the ground in seconds.

"You bitch!"

Yulian surged forward, pulling his gun out, his head and suit drenched in red, wine or
blood she didn't know. Before he had even taken a step, Oliver stepped in, holding the
wrist of the hand with the gun, and snapping it, the crack loud in the room.

"You touched her with your fingers, I broke your hand," Oliver muttered, his stance
lethal as Yulian went on his knees, crying out in pain.

Oliver bashed his head against the side of the desk, hitting him where the bottle had
cracked. "You think of her, I break your head."

Yulian spit blood and looked at Oliver, stuttering. "You think this will stop him? My
death will only make him madder."

Oliver pulled him up by the collar, saying in a low voice. "And that is exactly what I
want. He will come out, make a mistake. And I will kill him."

Felicity watched in morbid fascination as Oliver wrapped his hands around Yulian's
neck.

"Oliver..." she said softly, not knowing what she was asking. She knew the man had to
die. He deserved to die.

"Turn away, Felicity," Oliver said harshly, without looking up.

"But..."

~"Now!"~

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, and turned her back to him, knowing Oliver didn't
kill unless he had to, and this was important for catching Ilyich. In spite of knowing
how this world operated, she still felt like an accessory to murder. Her hands trembled
as she looked down, her body trembling as well, listening to the gurgling noises from
behind her before they stopped.

A movement suddenly drew her eye and she watched in horror as a man on the ground
picked up his gun, aiming right at Oliver's back. She looked in slow motion as he fired,
realizing in an instant that he wouldn't be able to move fast enough, that she wouldn't
be able to warn him fast enough, that the bullet was headed to do some serious damage.
She saw it and without a second thought, pushed him out of the way, catching him off
guard, and felt the impact on her shoulder.

A cry of pain left her, the burning sensation in her shoulder so much worse than she had
imagined, the small bullet feeling so much bigger, and she found new appreciation who
took bullets like it was a daily thing and no big deal. It felt like a fucking big deal. She
inhaled and the burning spiked intolerably, the movement of her chest making the pain
unbearable, and she couldn't stop breathing so the pain climbed higher.

"Fuck!"

Oliver. She saw though pained eyes as Oliver skidded on his knees to her, his face hard
and brutal, unable to see his eyes in the dim lighting, wanting to see his eyes.

She took another breath and whimpered. "Can't breathe."

He didn't say anything, his face contorted in a bitter expression she didn't want on him,
and suddenly he pressed down on the bullet and she screamed, harder than she had ever
screamed, as white hot pain engulfed her. She tried to get away but he kept her in place,
pressing on the wound to stop the bleeding, and she shook her head, the pain becoming
too much for her.

She saw him take out his phone.

"Digg, I want the car out at the back, now! Felicity is shot," he said into it, hard and
cold. Why was he being so hard and cold?

"Oli...ver..." she stuttered in pain, aware of the severe agonizing burn inside her,
increasing with every breath she took.

"Shut up, Felicity," he muttered harshly, pressing on her shoulder while removing his
jacket. She raised her hand to take a hold of his suspender but cried out when he raised
her to wrap her in the jacket, the movement jarring her, making noises erupt from her.

Her eyes closed in pain and she thought, errant, of all the scars on Oliver's body. Before
she could follow that line of thought, his phone rang and he picked up, listened to
whatever whoever said, and cut the call.
Pocketing his phone, he stood up, with her in his arms, and cried loudly at the way her
shoulder pressed into him, feeling herself slipping from the white agony that had
become her body.

"You are staying with me," he muttered harshly, walking somewhere really fast.

She would have smiled at his tone if she could. It was so like him to order her at a time
like this. But she couldn't smile. She couldn't even breathe.

The walls were merging together, her eyelids becoming heavy. She gripped his shirt
weakly and tried to speak, coughing on air instead, the shooting pain it inspired making
her feel more lethargic.

"I said stay with me!" he growled, looking down at her. "Don't close your eyes."

She closed her eyes. Defying him even with a bullet in her shoulder. He would be pissed.

She felt, half-awake, as he got into a car. She heard, as though from a distance, Digg's
voice and Oliver's curt words. He was being so distant. She didn't get it. She didn't like
it. Where was her concerned husband?

She slowly gave herself over to her burn induced sleep, welcoming the painless
unconsciousness that beckoned, feeling the smooth movement of the car as she stayed
cradled on Oliver's lap, in his arms, holding her as still as possible.

She gave herself over, feeling safe and cocooned, and the last thing she felt were Russian
words against her skin, his lips brushing her head.
 22. Crackling

Felicity felt the cool numbness in her shoulder, the stiffness in her arm. It was
uncomfortable, holding back pain she knew she would find behind that numbness. She
inhaled, scenting the familiar woodsy smell in the cool air, implying she was in her
room. Feeling the soft mattress under her back, and the emptiness beside her, she
slowly opened her eyes, encountering her own reflection in the mirror overhead, in the
dark room. She saw herself wearing Oliver's t-shirt, like she did at nights, a white
bandage peeking out from under it over her shoulder, a sling holding her arm on her
stomach. Well, that explained the stiffness.

Laying there, she remembered with vivid clarity the party, the office, the man, the
gunshot. She remembered the vivid panic she had felt the moment she realized the
bullet would hit Oliver. She remembered the vivid epiphany in the split second, an
admission of things she had best left unsaid, even to herself. Losing him, after all this
pain and struggle and pleasure, on both their parts, was not an option anymore. Plus,
the sex was too fantastic for her to let go. She wasn't a fool.

Smiling to herself, she turned her head and her eyes landed on Oliver. She started.

He was sitting on the armchair by the window, ensconced in darkness, his hands
steepled together on his lap, watching her. Letting her eyes get acclimated to the dark,
she saw he was still in his party wear, sans the jacket, the suspenders still in place, the
white shirt now red with her blood, his tie missing, sleeves folded over his muscular
forearms. But it was not the darkness or his attire which gave her pause. It was that
stillness. The same stillness he had had in that office before he had killed Yulian. The
stillness of muscles and bones and eyes. Just watching her. And had she not known him
like she did, she would have been scared of him.

Swallowing, she blinked at him, speaking softly, her voice husky from disuse. "Why are
you sitting there?"
He kept his eyes on her, a small twitch in his jaw the only indication that he had heard
her.

She tried again, not understanding his mood. "Why haven't you changed? You should
get out of those clothes."

The silence was becoming heavier with every unspoken word.

And for the first time, looking at him, she felt a frission of unease fear travel down her
spine. Not fear of him, never of him. But him, sitting like that, mute, just watching her
with that intensity, was frightening. Because she was sure the things going through his
mind were not something that would bode well.

She tried to get up, keeping her eyes on his distant, stoic face, feeling her heart drop to
her knees. This was not good.

"Oliver..."

He stood up all of a sudden and walked out of the room, without looking back at her
even once. Felicity tried to ignore the way it pinched, his careless attitude, his
indifference. He was pissed about stuff. She got it. He was just acting out, trying to
control his emotions.

Yes.

This was what it was. He was just trying to keep himself from lashing out.

As she lay there, looking at her own reflection, alone in the vacant bed, his eyes haunted
her. Those had not been the warm, bright eyes that teased her; not the hot, inflamed
blue eyes that heated her blood; not even the cool, calculating eyes that made her grit
her teeth. No. Those eyes had been vacant, like the bed. Still.

And that churned her stomach in a way she had not thought possible. With absolute
certainty, she knew. She knew he had made up his mind about something. His stubborn
mind. About something she would not be pleased with.

She lay there telling herself it would be alright, that she would change his mind, that
whatever was bothering him would work out.

She lay there, waiting for him to come back to bed.

And the night passed, and he did not.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity stood in his study, waiting to ambush him.

That was what it had come to. She actually had to go to the length of ambushing her
own husband into talking to her.

For five days, since the night of the party, Oliver had made avoiding her an art form. It
was much, much worse this time, even worse than it had been at the beginning of their
marriage. At least then, he had been civil. Polite.
Now, it was almost like he didn't live in the house.

He came to the bedroom when she was in her office or taking a bath, and quickly left
before she could catch him. He stayed out of the house during the days and closed
himself off in his office at night, never coming to the bed that seemed too big without
him. He left her to the care of Raisa and Thea and an almost recovered Roy, all of who
doted upon her and chided her for the bullet and praised her for her bravery and
whatever. It was nice but nothing was making her feel any better.

Oh, her shoulder was healing really quickly. Her arm was out of the sling and her
medication, as the doctor had told her, was almost done. It was only a twinge now.

But her heart. It sank every time she entered the empty room, every time she heard his
car leave, every time she sat in the tub.

She missed him.

Even living in the same house, she missed him. How awful was that?

At first, she had tried to gather information about what really had happened that night
when they had returned. Thea had told her it had been a chaos. Roy had told her that
she had been unconscious and Oliver had been cold and brutal, barking orders to
everyone and everywhere till the bullet had been dug out of her shoulder and the doctor
had checked up on her. Then he had taken her up to the bedroom and closed the door.
No one had any idea what happened after that since they had been inside the entire
time.

Raisa had helpfully added, listening in on the conversation in the kitchen, that Oliver
had run off to the basement early in the morning. And that he had been sleeping in the
couch in his study for all the days.
Felicity had flushed listening to that, her heart breaking at this voluntary distance he
was putting in between them for some unknown reason. And then she had seen Digg,
more times than she had seen her own husband, and heartbreak be damned, her anger
had spiked. How dare he?

How dare he force this upon both of them, without any explanation?

And her rage, increasing with every beat of her pulse, had driven her to this ambush.

It was late at night. And she knew, from observation and silent stalking of her own
husband who lived in the same house as she did, that he would be returning to this dang
room and that dang couch, choosing it over his very warm bed with a very warm wife,
any minute. Well, she wouldn't invite him to bed anyways now. Ass. And she was lying
to herself. She had dressed herself, just in his grey t-shirt, knowing she was going to use
all her powers on him. Yup. She was.

Although it had been a struggle getting to the study, unseen, just in that tee, she hoped
it'd be worth it.

She heard the door open and turned around, watching Oliver move in, his shoulders
hunched, his scruff longer, like he had gone without shaving for longer than he did, his
eyes closed as he shut the door, exhaling loudly. He looked tired. So very tired. And her
heart went to him despite her anger.

She saw his eyes open, like he sensed a presence, and saw him freeze upon seeing her.
His body stiffened and he blinked away the surprise, adopting that blank mask she had
come to despise. Her anger was back.

"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly, moving over to the desk, keeping his eyes
away from her.
Felicity grit her teeth, casually popping her hip against the desk and crossing her arms
across her breasts, delighted in the way his eyes flickered to them for a moment before
going out the window.

Keeping her voice deliberately light, she said. "Oh, I just thought I'd check up on my
husband, you know. Since he is going out of his way to ensure I am taken care of and he
is so very busy he can't even sleep in our bed, I thought maybe I'd just see him. See how
he is doing. Stuff."

Tick tock.

His jaw clenched but he kept his eyes on the window. "I'm fine."

So that's how he was going to play this? Seriously? Well, she could stoop low too.

But before she could open her mouth, Oliver sighed, still gazing at the window, and
spoke quietly. "I've decided to let you out of the contract."

Felicity stilled, her body freezing. "Excuse me?"

Oliver closed his eyes, his hand running through his hair. "The contract. Once Ilyich is
taken care of, I am releasing you from the marriage. You'll be free."

Felicity's heart thumped, unable to believe what she was hearing, staring at him wide-
eyed, her brain numb. What she wouldn't have given to hear that months ago! But now?

She stared at him, her jaw dropped, her breathing getting faster. He still looked out the
window and she had had enough with his behavior.

She slapped her hand on the desk, hard. "Look at me, you bastard!" she demanded
loudly.
His gaze swiveled to her and their eyes locked, for long silent moments. He could not be
doing this, not now.

"Why?" she asked, trying to rein in the fire that was coursing through her veins.

He shrugged.

He ~shrugged!~

The audacity of him!

"I deserve an answer," she muttered. He remained quiet.

Trying to keep the hurt from her voice, she felt her mouth twist. "So you want to let me
go? End this marriage? Is this because I saved you? Took a bullet for you? Isn't this a
little extreme?"

He just gazed back at her, with that same blank look in his eyes, and she clenched her
hands to keep from smacking him upside the head.

"Why wait for Ilyich to be done?" she asked, taking a step back. "You want out of this
marriage so badly you can't even bear to look at my face, just let it be done then."

Felicity looked at his silent face, understanding dawning upon her. He wouldn't change
his mind. Not until he was forced to. And like she had forced him to tell the truth about
her father, she'd have to stoop to that again. Resolved, she took a step back, watching
something flare in his eyes, his hands grip the chair.

"What was this all for, Oliver?" she asked, her voice trembling before she could stop it.
"If this was what you had planned, why? Was it for your pride? To have the woman who
had slighted you? Or was it for the sex?"

His jaw clenched so tight she knew his teeth were gnashing now. And she was hitting
below the belt but she was too hurt to care. "Was that it, Oliver? Lull me into sleeping
with you, and once you are done, you let me go?"

She kept taking steps backwards, and she was almost at the door now, waiting for him
to speak, to say something, anything. She needed to snap him out of whatever he was
into. And she could not see any other way. If he was the man she had come to trust, the
man she felt proud to call her husband, he would act. He would react. She didn't even
want to think of what she would do if he didn't.

She was at the door, shaking, looking at him as he stood behind the desk, watching her
with something in his eyes but nothing on his lips. No defense against her false
accusations. No clarifications. No explanations.

She nodded. "Very well, then. So, now that you have fucked me once," she said,
deliberately being crude, watching him flinch just a bit, "you are done with me. In that
case, there is no need for you to keep me here now. Ilyich takes me or doesn't, what
difference does it make?"

She turned the knob, opening the door. "You won't have to sleep here anymore. You can
sleep in the bed. I'll leave tonight."

Without another word, she walked down the hall, into the bedroom, waiting to feel him
run after her, waiting to hear his voice. Waiting. For anything.

It didn't come.

Tears threatened her, tightening her throat, a sob choking her as she made her way
upstairs and entered the bedroom, not knowing what she would do. She had threatened
to leave, knowing he would stop her. But he hadn't and she felt lost. So lost.

The bedroom was still dark, only lights from outside lighting it, casting long shadows
everywhere. Gloomy. Suited the mood, apparently.

"Don't go."

Rough. Low. Beseeching.

Her heart stopped and she closed her eyes in relief, tears escaping her, joy and pain
mingling inside her.

He had come after all. He had come and it mattered.

She didn't turn around, just stood, listening to him breathe, feeling him come behind
her.

They breathed in together, slowly, silently, in sync.

His lips came down on her shoulder, her injured shoulder, brushing it skin, going to her
neck, his longer scruff making her tingle, rasping against her skin, his warm breath
ghosting over her. She reined it in. They had to talk.

She turned around, facing him, and looked up into his eyes. The naked anguish she saw
made her breath catch.

"You want this marriage to end," she stated, her voice wavering.

He shook his head frantically. "No. I want you safe."

"But I am safe with you," she murmured, cupping his cheek.

He leaned into it, closing his eyes. "You are not," his voice was hoarse as his eyes
opened again. "You took a bullet for me, солнешко. That is not safe. One inch lower
and..."

His lips pursed and a shiver wracked his body. His eyes hardened. "That is not okay,
Felicity."

Felicity narrowed her eyes, her anger simmering. "So, you and everyone else taking
bullets for me is fine, but I can't do the same for you?"

"Yes."

That one word tipped her over. Everything building up for the last five days exploded
inside her and before she knew it, she slapped him across his cheek with her good arm,
hard, her palm burning where it hit him.

He looked at her, stunned, before his own eyes fired up and he pinned her to the wall,
trapping her between his body at front and the wall at the back, growling at her. "What
the fuck was that for?"

She glared back at him, hissing softly. "That was for believing for one second that this is
okay, for ignoring me like a plague for five days, for telling me this marriage is over
when we both know it is not, for even daring to think that I would let you die if I could
do something about it. You don't have the market on heroes cornered."

Oliver narrowed his eyes, his hands gripping her waist. "You haven't been paying
attention. I'm the bad guy, sweetheart."

She smirked. "It's good that I have a thing for bad boys then."
Oliver looked down at her for long moments and Felicity gripped his shirt, pulling him
closer. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No."

"Then stop saying stuff like that," she commanded, keeping their eyes locked. "I may
have wanted that out a few months ago. I don't anymore."

She heard his breath catch and his eyes drill hers. "What are you saying?"

Sliding her hands down his arm, she put his palms over her butt, jumping on him,
wrapping her legs around him and she felt him take her weight, pressing her harder into
the wall. Her hands traveled over his shoulders and gripped his hair, ignoring the
twinge in her healing shoulder, her hips grinding into his hardening erection.

"I'm saying," grind, "that you need to apologize."

Oliver's eyes darkened, heating, and he buried his face in her neck, just hugging her to
him.

A smile crossed her lips and she pulled back, seeing him, his face pinched in pain.
Sighing, she kissed the mole at the corner of his mouth, brushing his hair with her
fingers.

He shuddered and unzipped his pants and before she knew it, she felt his naked erection
right at her core, seeking entrance which she gladly gave.

Tight as she still was, Oliver entered her in one stroke, filling her so completely, making
her feel so full, a cry escaped her lips before her head lolled back, holding onto his
shoulders. She felt her muscles stretch around him, quivering, wet. She felt him inside
her, so hard, so solid. She inhaled deeply, finally knowing that they would be alright.
Once inside her, he didn't move, but his body shuddered again, one of his hands on her
hips holding her weight and the other on her face, pulling her head up.

He stayed inside her, motionless, locking their eyes together, the muted light casting his
face in shadows.

"When I saw you take that bullet, when I came so close to tasting what a life without
you would be like..." he said in his low voice, the voice that made her shiver. "I thought
driving you away would ease it. Not seeing you would make it easier."

He growled lightly, pulling out and thrusting in, keeping a hold of her face. "It didn't,
and I am so sorry for treating you like that."

Felicity's heart clenched along with her muscles. ~This man!~

She shook her head, and he stilled, his face panicked, thinking it was a refusal.

His hands tightened over her and he thrust in again. "No, no. No, Felicity," he said
urgently, moving inside her. "Please don't leave me. I can't... don't... please..."

Her heart aching for him, at his genuine incoherence, feeling his panic down to her
bones, she muttered softly. "Make me stay, Oliver. Convince me."

She saw his eyes pierce her before he hiked her legs higher up, his muscular arms
holding her aloft, and pushed in again.

Felicity felt her head tilt back, her eyes closing as pleasure radiated out from where he
hit her spot, again and again, fanning all over her body. She let go of his shoulders long
enough to strip off her t-shirt, exposing her nude body to his heated gaze, and ripping
off his shirt like the last time. Once she had his shirt off, she pressed their bare skins
together, loving the feel of his chest against her nipples, loving the friction between
them as Oliver moved in and out of her at a pace so unlike that last time.

Last time, he had been very gentle compared to what he was now. This was not gentle.
This was not even in the vicinity of gentle.

This was Oliver convincing her to stay and punishing her for asking him to all in one.
This was Oliver convincing her to stay and punishing her for taking the bullet. This was
his own pent up need of the last few days being exerted, own pent up torment being
exorcised. This was Oliver ripping her open against their bedroom wall, like he had
promised so many years ago. Only pleasure. So much pleasure.

He was breathing heavily now, close to his release, still moving in and out and in and
out and pistoning his hips into hers in that rapid rhythm. She was making sounds she
didn't even recognize, panting, clutching onto him as he fucked her into the wall, their
breathing and rapid slapping of skin being the only sounds in the room.

"Stay with me, Felicity," he ground out, holding her head up to keep their gazes locked,
his pace impossibly picking up, her inside walls screaming for release, wrapped like
vices around him.

"Don't leave," he begged, pounding into her, his gaze focused only on her face, his hand
tightening around her jaw.

Felicity looked at him, through her lust hazed eyes, clearly seeing what she felt in her
heart on his face and before she could reply, her muscles seized him and she screamed
out his name, erupting in a writhing mass of pleasure, clamping around him so hard
that he thrust once more and exploded inside her, stilling, locking their bodies together,
hugging her to him like he wouldn't let go.

She breathed hard, taking in noisy breaths, gulping air as she came down from her
intense orgasm, better than the last one. Oliver was breathing against her chest, his face
buried into it like he was buried, semi-hard, inside her.

"I'm not going anywhere, you idiot," she muttered against his head, peppering his hair
with kisses. "Why do you think I did all this?"

Oliver pulled back slightly, looking up at her, his eyes so pained her throat tightened.

"I need you, Felicity," he said softly, blinking up at her, and she was amazed to see his
eyes were moist. "I ~need~ you."

Felicity scratched his head slowly, brushing her nose with his, like he always did. "No
more talk of making me leave, okay?"

He nodded earnestly and she smiled, relieved. Then, she grinned. "You are quite rough,
Mr. Queen. I have to say I liked it."

She saw him slowly relax, muscle by muscle, his eyes searching her face for seconds,
before his lips curved up in the way that she had sorely missed. Without another word,
he turned them around and headed for the bed, still inside her, and her breath caught at
the way the motion caused his hardening erection to move inside her, a moan leaving
her mouth as the sparks of pleasure shooting over her body again.

He lay her down on the bed, looming over her.

"Are you sore?" he asked, his voice rough.

"No," she groaned, actually, literally feeling him expand to his full size inside her, her
muscles trembling around him, acclimating to him.

"Good," he growled, nipping her ear, being careful to keep his weight off her shoulder.
"I have a lot of making up to do."

Her breath hitched and she bit her lip. "Oliver?"

His response was licking a long stripe over her neck. She bit her lip again, feeling
embarrassed.

He pulled back, sensing it, pinning her with his eyes. "What?"

She looked away at the mirror above his head, feeling suddenly shy. The image up there
didn't help.

He gripped her chin and brought her eyes back to him. "What?"

"You haven't even kissed me yet," she murmured. "I mean it's been quite some time and
I miss it, you know. As amazing as your erection is, and the sex is really good, I really
like you lips. And you..."

His lips cut her off before she could finish her sentence. She opened her mouth to him,
kissing him back with fervor, tangling their tongues together. Oh, how she'd missed his
drugging kisses, the way he flicked his tongue over hers, the way he nipped at her lips,
the way he explored her mouth like it was the first and the last time he would. She'd
missed him. And as she kissed him back, and flexed her hips, as he started moving
again, without removing his mouth from hers, she realized how vital he had become to
her. Not just physically, but in every way one could fathom.

He pulled back, gazing down at her, brushing her hair away from her face, his hips
moving unhurriedly, unlike the mad pace against the wall, like he had all the time in the
world in this bed, his thrusts shot bouts of pleasure up her spine softly, the build up so
very gradual. She did not mind. She did not mind one bit.
He looked at her, his gaze so tender, and muttered something in Russian.

Her heart stuttered, pulse pounding as she gazed back at him, hearing his soft voice.
Felicity pulled his head down and kissed him again, her heart thundering.

She didn't have to know Russian to know what he had said.

His eyes had said it all.

His eyes had been saying it for longer than she could remember.

And she kissed him because though she had not been ready to hear it, he had never
really stopped saying it.

With blinding clarity, she knew.

23. Some Say The World Will End In Fire

Her husband was a sexter. She should have known.

Just this morning, Felicity had woken up due to a sensation she had never before felt in
her sleep. And once she had woken up, she had realized why that was. She had never
had someone eat her out to wakefulness, that too with such skill. Whatever experience
she had garnered with sex, she had garnered over the past two weeks of her life, with a
very, very eager Oliver. Once they had moved past the entire Yulian fiasco, which had
been a week ago, and her almost healed wound, and Oliver had finally allowed himself
to let go with her, since she was not sore anymore (well, not much anyway but she didn't
tell him that) and very eager too, she had come to realize that the extent of sexual
pleasure her body was capable of feeling was way beyond what she had imagined. Her
husband had a very enthusiastic appetite when it came to her, and she had never felt
more wanted and more wanton than she did with him.

In the past week, she had realized Oliver's libido was a beast she had unleashed. He
literally could never wait to get his hands and mouth on her, and most of the times, he
enjoyed giving her pleasure. She had lost the count of the number of orgasms she had
had courtesy of him, standing, sitting, lying down and what not. She had explored his
body too, with slightly tentative hands at first, and then with a surety that came from
the knowledge that this man was as much hers as she was his. Every tendon, every scar,
every vein- she had mapped with her fingers and mouth and tongue, learning him like
he learned her, scratching and kissing and marking him just like he nipped and bit and
marked her in every spot he could, only for his eyes. He had let her do that too, every
time, letting her explore till he could not not move. Then, he ~moved.~ Their sex life
was something she had not thought sex lives could be like.

And in the last seven days, she had come to understand things about him she had not
before. Things like how he would always ensure she was ready and wet enough to
receive him, no matter how out of control he seemed. Things like how he would always
(mostly) ensure that she came at least once before he did. Things like how he always put
her pleasure first, without being obvious about it, despite her efforts to do the same to
him. Once, when he had been about to go down on her, she had asked him why he never
sat back and relaxed and took his pleasure, which she was actually very eager to give.

He had looked at her, with that almost smile of his, and his intense blue eyes riveted on
her. "Your pleasure is my pleasure, солнешко."

And she had been stunned speechless. Yeah, he did that a lot too.

He liked reminding her that her body was made for more than one orgasm. And he liked
demonstrating it, every chance he got.
And she noticed things. Like how, when she had decided to keep her eyes on him when
she came a few nights ago, how he had looked. She had seen that slightly winded,
slightly amazed expression on his face. And that expression stayed every time she came.
She had also noticed, now that her own trust issues with him had been put to rest, that
he had his own, and those ran so much more deeper than she could have fathomed.

Oh, he trusted her, more than anyone else probably. But he seriously, even now,
expected her to up and leave him. He seriously thought, even now, that she would
decide one morning that she deserved better and she would walk away. She caught him
sometimes, during the day, watching her with that far away look in his eyes. He would
see her watching and blink it away, giving her that little smile he knew made her heart
flutter. But he still believed she would leave him. And the raving idiot had no idea she
could not leave him. He was it, for her. And it didn't hurt what a fantastic lover he was,
creepy as the word sounded.

Put aside, it seemed like something he would overcome in time. But she knew him. And
she knew now how corrosive this one minute belief could be to their marriage, scraping
him on the inside, festering like a cancer. She would have to remove it before it spread.

But for now, she enjoyed their bodies, their sensuality, thriving on it.

There were times when Oliver would shove her against a wall and before she could even
speak his name, his mouth would be on her and he would be inside her, wild, hard,
thrusting. Those times she came before she could sneeze, multiple times, and it would
be over in minutes. Then, there were times when Oliver would take her to bed and take
the entire night driving her higher and higher, till she was a mass of writhing limbs,
discovering her anew, letting her explode before he even entered her. He would then
take his sweet time, like he had an abundance of it, making love to her, oh so tenderly
her heart would be bursting.

But one thing, that remained the same, and which was actually her favorite part and the
hottest thing that made her melt too, was the way he watched her. Fast or slow, it didn't
matter, but every time he entered her, she would find his eyes on her, watching her with
that expression on his face, his eyes equally heated and tender. With every thrust, his
gaze would be riveted on hers, locking their eyes together, their breathing getting
heavier but their eyes never straying. And despite having her naked body pressed to
him, the fact that his eyes always came back to her eyes, and not stayed long on the body
he worshiped every day and night, made her realize how pure his want was- for her.
Their hard fucking or soft lovemaking was only a culmination of a desire that stemmed
from a place deep inside him, for her. Her body, while important, was only secondary.
And the idiot still thought she would leave. ~Seriously?~

And he liked to cuddle. After sex. He would press their bodies together every time, with
a kiss behind her ear, at this one spot that made her gooey. If she faced him, he would
stroke her spine. If she faced away, he would spoon. But they always cuddled. And
Felicity had never felt more wanted in her life than she did in those moments as they
drifted to sleep.

But despite their very healthy sex lives, she had never woken up to find his face buried
between her thighs. And she sure as hell had not minded it. Not one bit.

Her eyes had looked up at the mirror, to find his t-shirt that had become hers bunched
to just under her breasts and his head moving at the apex of her legs, her feet digging
into his back, her own eyes hazed between sleep and lust. Oh, that mirror.

Over the last seven days, Oliver had also realized, to his great amusement, the brilliant
jackpot he had hit when he had had the mirror installed. She swore more than half her
orgasms on the bed, while under him or on top or sideways or anyways, were sped up by
that mirror reflecting the wicked things they did to each other. It was the hottest thing
watching them together, doing something so primitive. Well, hottest next to his eyes
watching her. That one would always top the list.
But thankfully, Oliver had realized her thing for mirrors and them. So he had also made
love to her in the bathroom, taking her from behind as she gripped the marble sink,
panting, their eyes locked on the huge ornate mirror before them. That one still made
her fan herself.

Anyways, she had woken up to the best wake up call ever and then they had gone on
with their day. Which had been like the last few, with her working on the information
she had taken in the thumb drive in Yulian's office and him handling other Bratva
business, in their respective offices. He sometimes stole in for a little (not so little) kiss,
as did she. Then, they would get back to work with the promise of later.

Today, she had finally decrypted the information and gotten a possible list of places
where Ilyich could have his setup and was holing out. So, she had given the list to Oliver
and seen him deal with it with that deadly look in his eyes. With a firm kiss on his lips
that made Digg smirk (and his men were used to that now, so she didn't care) she had let
him be and gone to help Thea handle some club stuff she had asked help for.

Now that Roy had been completely healed, (and so had she) and able to walk about
again, he was back on duty as her bodyguard and she was happy. She had missed him
too much. And Thea and she had spent the hours mulling over the club's accounts, with
Roy sitting on a chair in the room and making Roy-ish comments and snorts and eye
rolls and bantering. It was good.

Now, around 6, sipping iced tea while talking to Thea, her phone buzzed with a text and
she picked it up, looking at the display. Oliver. An involuntarily smile grazed her face,
and like the sap she was, she opened it.

**Oliver : ~Would you like to go out for dinner?~**

She bit her lip, her heart fluttering and tummy a riot and typed quickly.

**Felicity : ~Would there be a drive after?~**

She waited for his reply and it came in seconds.

**Oliver : ~It's a package deal.~**

She grinned, feeling flirtatious, something she had never felt before. And they were
married.

**Felicity : ~Hmm. I could be convinced.~**

Covertly, she peeked a look at Thea, to see him busy talking to Roy and looked down at
the next message.
**Oliver : ~I could come and convince you thoroughly but I think my sister would be
scandalized.~**

Her breath hitched at the veiled implication but feeling dangerous, she prodded him.

**Felicity : ~You need to be physically present to convince me? You must be losing your
touch.~**

She didn't know what he would write then, but she had not expected what he did write.

**Oliver : ~Think of my touch then. On your mouth. My thumb touching your lips,
brushing them open. Have they parted yet?~**

They had. How did he know? Before she could reply, he was typing again.

**Oliver : ~I know they have. They feel heavy, don't they? And your breasts? How heavy
do they feel?~**
Very heavy.

**Oliver : ~Think of my touch. The way it feels when my hands are on your breasts.
Pulling you nipples. Rolling them. Are you squirming in the chair yet?~**

She stilled her squirming and stole a glance at Thea and Roy. It was getting hot. She
needed to get out of the room.

**Oliver : ~Don't leave the room. I'm just getting started.~**

She closed her eyes on a heavy sigh.

**Felicity : ~You need to cool your horses, mister. Your sister is right in front of me. So
is Roy.~**

**Oliver : ~Are they now? Then you'll have to be very discreet in your reactions, baby.~**
Oliver Queen just called her 'baby' on text. And he was entering the world of raunchy,
dirty texts, no hold barred. What parallel universe was this?

**Oliver :** ~**How wet are you?** ~

Holy fuck. Was this man trying to kill her?

**Felicity : ~I'm coming.~**

**Oliver : ~So soon?~**

A giggle left her before she could stop herself. Thea looked at her, puzzled, before she
saw the phone and shook her head, turning to Roy. Felicity typed.

**Felicity : ~To dinner, McSmutty. Now, go away before I traumatize your sister and
mortify myself.~**
**Oliver : ~;)
~**

Kill her. He had sent her a smiley. A winky smiley. She hadn't even thought he knew
how to use them.

And then she had felt eyes on her and realized she had, after all, not been discreet in her
reactions after all. Not if her heated cheeks were anything to go by.

She cleared her throat and got back to work, her tummy a gooey bundle of nerves in
excitement.

And the fact that her husband was a sexter.

Their sex lives just got a whole lot more interesting.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

His scruff never ceased to surprise her.

He rasped it against her neck as he bit on her lobe, making sensations flood her body.
They had just returned back from their drive, just after midnight, and the house was
dark and silent, with everyone sleeping, and they were making out like randy bunnies in
the hallway, with him pressing her into the wall. Like mirrors, walls were their thing
too.

Earlier in the evening, Felicity had dressed herself in a simple yellow dress, and Oliver
had been in his casual jeans and dark button up that made her hands itch. One thing she
had realized about her husband was that he could be wearing anything- from a t-shirt to
shirt to suspenders to nothing at all to a sack and still look hot. They had gone out to a
casual Italian place and had a good time, obviously. And this had been the first thing
close to a date she had ever had with him. After paying the bill, they had gotten in his
Porsche and Oliver had driven them to the beach, the same beach where she had first let
him in, kissed him in the rain.

Tonight it had been dry and secluded and they had walked along the shore, barefoot,
holding hands, till they reached a private spot, hidden by the rocks, only the sea-facing
side open. Oliver had sat down and pulled her between his legs, her back resting against
his chest, their hands linked on her stomach, peppering small kisses on the nape of her
neck while she talked about everything and nothing. He had listened, spoken in
between the kisses, then listened some more and she had sighed in contentment. That,
right there, had made her feel whole.

That beach had become their own little bubble. Like their bed. Where they just were,
with no outside world.

Then, Oliver had bitten her earlobe and the contentment had transformed to something
hotter, making her turn her face and seek his mouth, exchanging long, dirty kisses with
him. Things had started escalating and Oliver had pulled back, muttering a curse. "Not
here."

Obviously. Just because she felt the outside world did not exist didn't mean it did not.
And that time had not been the right time for beach sex. They would get to it.
Eventually.

So, they had driven back home. And here they were. Randy bunnies. Continuing what
they had started on the beach. With vigor.

"Good lord, someone ~please~ poke my eyes out!"

Thea's loud screech made Oliver freeze, his hand under her dress, very close to the
lining of her panties.

Felicity's cheeks flamed as she buried her face in his chest, hiding from Thea's line of
vision. She did not know how she would face her sister-in-law in the morning if she saw
her with messed up hair and smudged lipstick. Half of which was on Oliver's mouth
now. Frack.

"What are you doing here, Speedy?" Oliver asked in a rough voice, not moving because
his very evident erection was still pressed into her.

"I came back from the club, Ollie," Thea said, and Felicity could only hear the
exasperation in her voice since her face was still in his chest.

Oliver sighed, his hand tightening on Felicity's waist. "Go to your room, Speedy."

"Jeez, you should go to yours."

Oliver sighed again. Thea chuckled then Felicity heard her retreating footsteps.

She banged her head against his chest, flushing. "She just saw us having foreplay,
Oliver. I can't believe Thea saw that. Oh boy."
Oliver's chest rumbled and suddenly the world turned upside down as he picked her up
over his shoulder with his hand on her butt, a loud shriek escaping her, and started
walking to their room.

"Oliver! Put me down!" she whisper-yelled at him, feeling the blood rushing to her face
as she squirmed to get down. His grip was unflinching on her ass, which he slapped
once, and then she realized they were in the bedroom.

Oliver dropped her on the bed, and she bounced on the mattress before his body
straddled her thighs, pinning them and one of his hands took a hold of both her wrists
above her head, giving her not an inch to move.

She blinked up at him in surprise, seeing the slight playfulness in his eyes she had rarely
seen before, and before she could speak, his free hand tickled her ribs once.

She jerked up, trying to get away, but couldn't, at all. Her wrists were manacled and she
was pinned for good.

She glared at him, watching the playful smile on his lips.

"Don't you dare," she warned but he obviously gave it no heed, bringing his hand down
over her ribs, tickling her without stop.

Felicity screamed his name, laughing uncontrollably, giggles erupting her, even as she
tried to get away.

"Oliver! Stop! Please! Oh, god! Stop it! I swear I'll kill you if you... ah, Oliver!"

He paid her screams and pleads no heed at all, continuing his assault on her funny
spots, a shit-eating grin on his face.
Her body was beyond warm, her face beyond red, and tears streaming down now as he
still tickled her.

"Oliver! Please! It's too much! Stop!"

He stopped slowly, grinning down at her, as she panted heavily, glaring up at him. But
his face was so earnest, so carefree that her scowl did not hold and she smiled back at
him. He looked so young. She imagined had he had a privileged life and been some
spoiled son of some wealthy couple, this was what he would be like. Breaking hearts
with his boyish smile. And though it was amazing to see him like this, it was only
amazing because he was who he was. Broody. Intense. And seeing him so relaxed was a
reprieve. Seeing his full fledged grin when his little smiles were so far and few in
between made her tummy flutter and her heart stutter. And she was waxing poetry in
her own head.

She mock-scowled at him, looking sternly. "What was that for?"

She saw his playfulness mute as something soft replaced it, and he looked down at her
with that look. That look that made her stomach feel vertigo. The best kind.

He shrugged slightly, letting go of her wrists, his hand brushing her cheek like savoring
the feel of her skin. "You make me happy, солнешко."

Felicity's heart stopped for a second as she comprehended the extent of what he was
telling her. She raked her fingers through his hair, smiling up at him.

"You make me happy too."

Oliver's entire face softened and they looked at each other for long moments, saying
nothing. Not needing to.
Felicity dragged her hands over his neck to his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt, one
button by the other, keeping her eyes on his. Once done, she touched his mottled skin,
the marks of his forged strength, and then raised her torso slightly, unzipping her dress
and removing it, throwing it to the side, along with her bra. She sank back on the bed,
biting her lip, still watching him watch her, and put her hands on his belt, unbuckling it
slowly and throwing it over too. Then she unsnapped his jeans, and put her hand over
him, feeling him harden and grow even bigger in her palm, which was too small for
him.

Her blood heated at the thought of having him again, and despite of so many times she
already had, his size still made her breath catch when he entered her.

She slowly brought her hands back on his chest and pushed, flipping him on his back,
removing her panties, and straddling him, pushing apart the edges of his shirt to see
him, while he still silently watched her.

Leaning over, she kissed his neck, feeling his stubble rasp against her skin, her nipples
brushing his chest as her hips flexed on his.

"Watch the mirror, baby," she whispered in his ear, kissing her way down his chest.
Licking the Bratva tattoo on his pecs, she glanced up to see his still watching her. She
looked at him puzzled and his lips twitched.

"Why aren't you seeing the mirror?" she asked softly.

He didn't say anything, just kept his eyes on her and smiled softly. And it hit her. He
was watching her. ~Her.~

Overwhelmed, she leaned over and paused right over his mouth, whispering. "You are
crazy, you know that, right?"
His answer was another smile as he gripped the back of her head and pulled her to him,
locking their lips together. Kissing him was an art form. Kissing him was an addiction.
She was mastering both. She could kiss him for the rest of her life and not want for
anything.

Getting rid of his clothes, enough to free him, she put his hand on her hips, to guide
her, hold her, and felt him at her entrance. Slowly, she descended, taking him in, inch by
inch, her mouth gasping over his.

"Oliver," she whispered, her head lolling back as the full feeling took her over. This was
a better heaven. So much better.

"Oliver..." she breathed out again, her walls clamping on him.

He didn't say anything, but he just watched her with that expression, that look in his
eyes, that made her want to hold him tight and never let him go. That look was ripe with
things unsaid. Things that had come to the tip of her tongue but not ready to get out.
So, she let her tongue dance with his, reveling in this, flexing her hips, both by instinct
and by his guidance, feeling the throbbing inside her coil tighter and tighter as she
moved, as his hips instinctively thrust up at her, as their bodies pressed completely into
each other.

She pulled back and locked their eyes on each other, seeing his blown pupils and the
heat and so many more things in his gaze, slowly moving over him, feeling him twitch
inside her, her body recognizing him, welcoming him with each thrust, clenching in
that welcome.

She moved tonight, and he let her, and his gaze turned her on more than his body tight
against her, into her. She moved and seconds or minutes or hours later, she came, his
name a wisp on her lips, pulling his face into her chest, holding onto him. But she kept
riding him, flexing her hips and by the time her second orgasm, which was almost a
ritual now, hit, he came too, spilling into her, with a loud exhale, kissing her pulse point
over and over again, hugging her to his body.

After long minutes, she pulled away with a kiss on his head and they cleaned up,
removing the leftover clothes and getting back in bed, turning the light off.

She lay on her side with him at her back, completely wrapped around her, his arm heavy
and warm over her middle and their legs tangled, heads almost on the same pillow. He
kissed her on the spot behind her ear and for the first time in a week, he whispered the
Russian words right into her skin.

Oliver Queen had redefined intimacy for her.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in her marriage, since they had started sharing the bed (apart from the
post-Yulian days that she refused to include because Oliver had been an idiot) , she did
not wake up with Oliver wrapped around her. Instead, his side of the bed was empty and
she frowned, pulling the sheet up her body and looking around. Her eyes fell on the
clock at the table. 7 AM. Her glasses were beside the clock and she picked them up, just
then seeing the note tucked there.

She picked it up, opening it with a yawn, and saw Oliver's masculine handwriting.
~**Something urgent came up. Had to leave. Will be back in a few hours.** ~

~**P.S. You look beautiful sleeping.** ~

Warm fuzzy feeling bubbled in her tummy. Shaking her head, knowing she wouldn't be
able to sleep without him now, she got up and went to freshen up and get ready for the
day. She had a program to finish up today for the security systems in the house. The
same that Thea would install in her club.

She took a long bath and got ready in shorts and t-shirt, going down for breakfast.

Raisa smiled at her and Felicity greeted her back, pouring herself some juice.

"Morning, Raisa! Can I have some bagels?"

Raisa nodded and Felicity sat down, sipping. "Do you know what time Oliver left this
morning?"

Raisa made the dough, speaking in her accent. "Yes. It was barely even dawn. Mr.
Diggle called him down for some business."

Felicity nodded, and ate her bagel, going about her day. She went to her office an
finished the program by lunch, mailed it to Thea, then worked on the other security
issues by evening. By the time it was 5, she was cracking her neck and stretching her
muscles and finally heading to Oliver's study, wanting to see him.

She nodded to Roy on the way while he munched on some peanuts, and opened the door
to the study. It was empty. Frowning, she turned back and sought out Raisa.
She found her in the laundry room, folding clothes.

"Hey, Raisa," Felicity started, her brow furrowed. "Isn't Oliver back yet?"

"No, Mrs. Felicity," Raisa said, folding the clothes in her hand. "Mr. Diggle phoned.
Said they would be late."

Felicity nodded, leaving the room, but something felt wrong. She tried to tell herself it
was nothing and then she remembered what Oliver had made her promise weeks ago
after saving her from Palmer.

~"Always trust your instincts."~

Her instincts were making her stomach sink with a sudden weight she did not
understand. Something was off and she had no idea what it was. Inhaling deeply, she
got her phone out and quickly typed a text.

**Felicity : ~Hey! Busy?~ **

She kept glancing at her phone and got no reply. Snatching a sandwich, her eyes glued
to the screen, she tried to reason with herself.

It was some urgent Bratva business. He was busy. That was all. But her instinct
wouldn't rest.

"Oh, screw it!"

Muttering to herself, she picked up the phone and dialed Digg, just in case Oliver was
busy.

The phone rang and rang and rang but wasn't answered. Maybe they were both busy.

But something was wrong.

Biting her lips, her heart starting to race, she headed to her office again just as her
phone buzzed with a text. Quickly pulling it out, she saw the name and sighed with
relief, her whole body relaxing. Oliver.

Sighing again, she frowned when she saw it was an image he had sent and she opened it,
letting it load.

She froze, every muscle in her body stilling. And then her phone clattered to the floor.

The motion jerked her into action, a hand covering her mouth, she bent down and
picked it up again, with a hand that was shaking badly, her heart hammering in fear.

There, in the picture, she saw Oliver, strung up by chains on his hands, wrapped around
his wrists which were bleeding, making him hang from the ceiling, his toes barely
touching the ground, his face bruised and bleeding, his head lolling forward. He was
unconscious, in some warehouse with almost no light.

And the grainy picture made her heart bleed as she stood motionless, blinking back
tears as she saw him.
Oliver. Bleeding. Bruised. Tortured. Unconscious.

No. No. Her mind refused to accept any other reason for his unconsciousness. Her mind
could not handle that.

She breathed in through her mouth, loudly, and tried to calm down. Oliver did not need
her panicking or falling to pieces right now. But her gut wouldn't stop churning and her
hand wouldn't stop shaking.

Oliver was captive. And whoever had him had his phone.

She stared at the screen, her heart stopping as she watched the 'typing' sign come up.

And then the message came. And her blood froze.

**Oliver : Come to me, alone, if you wish to save him. You have three hours. **

**Oliver : I believe you have heard of me.**

**Oliver : I am Ilyich.**

24. Three. Two. One. Burn.

**Roughly Three Hours Before The Deadline**

Felicity stood dazed, shaking, gulping, staring at the screen.

Ilyich. Ilyich had Oliver.

She didn't know how and it didn't matter.

Ilyich had Oliver. And he wanted her.

She blinked and took a deep breath, shaking the haze from her mind and locking her
phone, putting it in the pocket of her shorts. She had to act. She had to get Oliver out.
Nothing else mattered. And if she was going to deal with ilyich, and get Oliver out
safely, she had to be smarter than him about it. Till now, this had been a game of cat
and mouse and Ilyich had been one step ahead the entire time. She couldn't afford to
give him that space anymore. Oliver was all that mattered.

Felicity stood, thinking, and letting her brain do what it did best. Find solutions to
complex problems.

Ilyich had his phone!

She quickly got her phone and checked the tracker on his. Maybe it was still there. It
wasn't. Ilyich had taken it out. Damn it!

Swallowing her frustration, she looked around the room where she was standing and
her eyes fell on the spot where Oliver's safe was hidden. The one only she knew about
apart from him. The one he had told her about in case of emergencies.

She made her way to the hidden safe, opening it and dialing the combination. She
ruffled through the wads of cash and passports to the back, her hand finding what she
was looking for, and she took out the object from the inside, shoving it in her bag,
locking the safe behind her.
Nodding to herself, she made her way to the kitchen, pondering upon the facts she
knew. She knew Digg was injured or worse because he was not picking up his phone
and Oliver was in Ilyich's captivity. Digg would not have let that happen unless he had
been taken out himself. She knew Oliver had suspected someone in this house of being
a mole and didn't trust anyone and if Oliver had reason for suspicion, she sure as hell
was not trusting anyone. She also knew that Ilyich was holed up somewhere close to her
home and she had triangulated the list of locations only yesterday for Oliver.

Realization dawned upon her. The ~idiot!~ That's what he must have gone to check out
without back-up. And Yulian being dead must have alerted Ilyich somehow. Frack!

Okay. So Oliver had walked into a trap. She had to get him out and to do that she had to
not freak out.

Calling on her composure, she rounded the corner swiftly towards where she had seen
Roy eat the peanuts, knowing he was the only person in the house she could remotely
trust right now. And as she walked, a plan was slowly forming in her head. She knew
exactly where she was going to go.

"Roy," she walked into the kitchen, seeing him still munching on peanuts, calling his
name with as much cool as she could.

He turned to her, relaxed, and she saw him freeze as he looked at her face, searching it,
instinctively understanding that something was very, very wrong. He started to open his
mouth to speak but she shook her head, putting a finger to her lips, quietening him. He
stilled and got up from the stool, his body ready to move, his jaw hard. Now that she was
letting her brain work, she was not going to risk any chances of rescuing Oliver. They
might have been bugged for all she knew.

She tilted her head to the door on the right, the one that led straight to the garage, and
he nodded, his eyes somber and followed her, alert, on guard.
She stopped at the door for a second, considering. If there was some mole in the house,
it was best that she and Thea not be there in Oliver's absence. And Thea was at the club.
Thankfully.

Nodding to herself, she pulled Roy down the door, going to the garage and walked
quickly, hastily, without speaking. He followed her lead, quietly, knowing something
was very off.

Eyeing the Porsche SUV, she asked Roy silently to get in the passenger's side and got in
the behind the wheel, buckling herself in. She started the vehicle and pulled out, hitting
the accelerator and they left the premises within seconds, racing down the open road in
the darkening sky.

"What's happened?"

Roy's quiet voice placated her, and she took strength from it, looking straight ahead.

"Ilyich has Oliver."

She heard Roy draw in a quick breath before he asked, his voice hard. "And?"

Felicity's grip tightened on the wheel, her knuckles whitening. "And I have three hours
roughly to go to him. Or Oliver will die."

Roy stayed silent and Felicity spoke. "Ilyich is going to kill Oliver either way. But the
perverse bastard that he is, he will want to rub it in Oliver's face that he has me. So
Oliver has some time for now."

She saw Roy nod in her periphery. "And Oliver is strong. Where's Digg?"
"Unreachable," she said softly, feeling her heart clenching in fear but keeping it at bay.
She needed a clear head for now. Oliver, and possibly Digg, needed that from her.

"And what are you going to do?"

Felicity lips pursed as she grit her teeth. "I am going to make Ilyich regret ever laying
his eyes on me and his filthy hands on my husband."

"Good," Roy replied firmly. "I thought you were going to give yourself over."

"I am," Felicity said, her mind whirring and she felt Roy look at her in surprise. So, she
elaborated. "But I have a plan. And you are the only person I can trust."

"Anything."

"Call Thea and tell her to not leave the club at any cost and stay safe," she ordered,
keeping her eyes on the road.

Roy nodded and quickly made the call, avoiding any questions and fielding them by
telling her it was an emergency. Thea, having the good head on her shoulders and the
sense that came from being Oliver's sister who had lived with him enough to know
about this world, had agreed to stay safe and told Roy she was armed. That relieved
Felicity greatly.

Once done, they stayed silent for the rest of the ride, and she knew, Roy being Roy, that
he knew exactly where she was going. She was going to where it had all started. She was
going to her old house. It was time the people who had made the mistakes paid for them
on their own.
**Roughly Two Hours Before The Deadline**

She parked the car hastily in front of the doorway and got out, the slam of the door on
her side loud in the silent night, followed by the slam on Roy's side. She didn't wait for
him, knowing she wouldn't have to, and marched in the house with hurried, angry
footsteps. Now that she had had time in the car to contemplate, to think, the shock had
worn off and it had been replaced by a kind of burn she had never experienced before. It
transcended hatred. It even transcended rage. This burn was destruction in its rawest
form. And she knew that she was going to destroy tonight. Like she never had before.
Without remorse.

She walked in, ignoring the surprised face of her mother, and the hurried shout of
Anatoly. As much as she loved Anatoly, she did not trust him either, not tonight. When
her own father had betrayed her, what was to say Anatoly hadn't? She couldn't afford to
trust him tonight. Not when Oliver's, and maybe Digg's, life was on the line.

Viktor Orlov was in the study, as he always was and he looked up from his seat as
Felicity slammed the door open and entered, going straight to his desk, slapping her
palm on the wood. Hard.

"My husband is paying for your mistake," she ground out, staring deep into the eyes of
the man she once called her her father, aware of her mom and Anatoly who had
followed her into the room, along with Roy. She didn't care.

She saw Viktor's face register his surprise and he opened his mouth but she slammed
her palm again on the wood, cutting him off. "Don't open your mouth. I did not like it
the last ten times you did, and I sure as hell won't tolerate it now."

She heard her mom's reprimanding, "Felicity!" but she didn't move her eyes from the
man in front of her.

"I am done being the little pawn in your game with that bastard. And I am not going to
let the one man who sacrificed everything to keep me safe be a pawn either," she leaned
in close, meaning every word she said, her voice low. "So, you are going to work with me
or God help me, I will destroy this precious world of yours, bit by bit, and I will do it
without blinking."

She saw her father swallow as he stood up. "Felicity, this is Ilyich. I can't..."

She didn't have time for this. Oliver didn't have time for this.

With a sneer so unlike her, she spoke, making good on her threat effectively. "Mom, do
you know what a bastard you are married to?"

Viktor Orlov's eyes narrowed at Felicity and she narrowed hers right back. Destroying
his world bit by bit. He stayed quiet, not agreeing to help her. She continued without
blinking.

"You are married to the man who sold his own daughter to the filthiest butcher he could
find to save his own neck and then married her off to a man he did not know because he
was blackmailed and he had to save his own neck again," she finished, hearing her
mother's loud gasp from behind her and Roy's deep breath as he heard it for the first
time. She continued. "It was my luck that Oliver is a good man. But either way, it did
not matter to him in the slightest."

"Felicity, you must be mistaken," he mother's trembling voice came to her and she
scoffed.

"I have been paying for this man's greed and egotism for months. I won't let Oliver pay
for it."
Felicity felt her mother step forward and walk around the desk, shaking, facing Viktor.

"Is this true?" she asked, her voice trembling and Felicity felt a twinge of remorse for
her. But she shut it away.

Her father kept quiet, his eyes on Felicity and she saw her mother's hand flash out and
slap him hard across his face, the sound ringing in the room.

"You asshole!" she cried out, the hatred in her voice so strong it soothed something
deep inside Felicity. Her mother stood right beside her, like she had always promised.
Felicity closed her eyes on the wave of emotion and got back on track. Now was not the
time.

"This is just one demonstration," she said coldly, eyeing the man. "Your marriage is
down the drain. Now, if you don't stop being the coward you are, I am going to expose
you to the many enemies you have, and I will destroy your precious Bratva world and
your reputation. I will shove you six feet under and you know I will."

Her mother looked at her before turning back to her husband, disgust in her voice. "And
I will help her."

Felicity flashed a quick smile to her mother before coolly appraising the man. "Take this
as your chance to prove you still have some remorse if you have any scrupules left. Or
take this as your final warning. But you are helping me either way."

Viktor Orlov considered her frosty glance for long moments before he nodded and she
breathed in.

"What do you need?"

Felicity inhaled. "I need you to call upon as many men you have, loyal men, who you are
absolutely sure about and I need them to raid a warehouse."

"I don't have so many men," he said quietly and she raised her eyebrows.

"Are you seriously spewing that shit out?" she asked angrily, crossing her arms. "You
are one of the most powerful men in the Bratva and I have seen you work since I was in
diapers. So don't give me that. I need all your men. ~All. Of. Them.~ "

Viktor nodded again and tilted his head at Anatoly, who left the room to gather the
men.

"What do you want to do?" he asked and she pulled her phone out, getting the list out.

"You know Ilyich. You were his important man. So tell me, which is the most likely
place that he would be holed up at?"

She saw her father peruse the list closely, watching for reaction.

Then he spoke. "He would either stay at the warehouse on Lexington or the one on
Maverick's Point. But I think it's Lexington."

Felicity nodded and pocketed her phone again. Lexington was five minutes from her
house. "Alright. I need you to take your men to the warehouse on Lexington and wait
outside till I give you the go ahead."

Viktor hesitated. Felicity leaned close. "Don't try anything smart."

"I am your father," he said in a hard voice.

"Not anymore," she spoke equally hard. "Now leave. We don't have time."
"But..."

And she was out of patience. Her mouth curled in another sneer and she felt the burn
consume her. "Anything happens to my husband, ~father,"~ she sneered the word, "I
will personally hunt you down and I will make you wish you were dead. Keep that in
mind."

He breathed in harshly, a regretful smile on his lips. "You have more Bratva in your
blood than you realize."

Good. She needed that tonight. He left without another word, leaving Felicity with her
mother. She came forward and enveloped her in her arms, just like she always did when
Felicity had been hurt and she needed a hug.

"I'm so sorry, honey," she breathed, her body shaking.

Felicity nodded, wrapping her tight. "I know, mom. I'm sorry you had to find out like
this."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Felicity inhaled deeply, shaking her head. "Later, mom. I need to go right now."

Donna Smoak brushed Felicity's hair away from her face and wiped her eyes. "What do
you need me to do?"

Felicity smiled gratefully. "Just make sure nothing other than what I said happens here.
If it does, call me."

Her mother nodded, looking at Felicity deeply. "I know it is an odd time to say this, but
I am happy that you found Oliver. And I know you are strong enough to find him
again."

Felicity swallowed past the lump in her throat and squeezed her mother's arms once,
grateful, and left, Roy following her with quick steps.

She pulled out of the driveway, Roy beside her, and drove for about five minutes, before
pulling over at the side of a lone road, getting the phone out.

The night had completely descended, moonless, black, and there was nobody to be seen
for miles. She took a deep breath, glancing at Roy, who looked at her with support, and
dialed Oliver's number.

It rang. Once. Twice. She was aware of Roy's gaze on her but she ignored it, focusing on
keeping her voice calm and keeping the burn at bay.

The call was picked up on the third ring, and her heart thundered, listening to the
silence on the other end, knowing it was Ilyich's breaths she was hearing, slow and
measured.

She swallowed and opened her mouth, her voice unwavering. "I want to speak to
Oliver."

No response. Alright then. This had to go the hard way.

"Listen to me carefully, you moron," she spoke, her voice hard, gritty, "if you don't let
me speak to my husband, that means he is dead. And if he is dead, you will never have
me. I will run away and disappear while I slowly dismantle your organization and burn
it to ashes and rubble. If you have done your research on me, you know I am more than
capable of doing it. So, pray. Pray that does not happen. And make me speak to him. I
want proof."
There was a heavy shuffling sound and then a grunt before a lot of heavy breathing.

"Oliver?" Felicity called softly.

"Felicity?" he said in a low voice.

"Oliver..."

"Don't come, Felicity," he said firmly, not at all sounding like he was strung up and
bleeding. "You are not coming."

Felicity stayed silent, trying to understand.

"Trust me."

And the phone was taken away, and she heard Oliver struggle.

"You have one hour," a man's hard voice, thick with Russian accent, came on. "One
hour before he dies. Come alone. And do not call again."

The line cut and Felicity grit her teeth, looking down at the screen.

Oliver had asked her to trust him and not go. His captor had told her he had only one
hour left.

She stared at the screen, knowing she trusted Oliver with everything but also knowing
she couldn't take this chance, not with his life.

Taking a deep breath, decision made, she dialed another number, knowing the person
on the other end was another light in this dark night.
** Roughly One Hour Before The Deadline **

"Why are we here?"

Felicity looked beside her at Roy, who sat still, observing the scene in front of them then
back where Sara sat, looking at her, waiting for a response.

Felicity had called Sara after making the call to Oliver. It had seemed logical. Sara was a
trained fighter and a good one if she had been the Chinese Triad's main operative in the
city three years ago. Sara knew the ugliness that could come in this world, and for
Felicity, she had not even hesitated once to dive right back in it. Felicity had just told
her that she would pick her up and it was important when Sara had said a simple yes, no
questions asked.

But now, sitting in the darkened SUV with no lights, hidden in the woods, with a direct
view of the warehouse at Maverick's Point, all eerie calm and quiet and not a soul in
sight, Sara whispered the question. Roy had filled her in on Oliver's abduction, only
telling her the bare bones of it, and nothing about her father's deal with Ilyich. Sara had
listened with that awareness she had and gotten ready, cracking her neck and rotating
her wrists.

"There is a mole, maybe more than one," Felicity began, quietly, "in both my house and
my father's house."
"And?" Sara prodded.

"And," Felicity began explaining, not moving her eyes from the warehouse. "I am done
being an idiot. Ilyich thinks he is smart in having a mole, I used that mole right against
him tonight."

At Sara's frown in the rear-view mirror, she elaborated. "I made a scene at my father's
house and demanded all his men go attack Lexington since my father is certain that is
where Ilyich is holed up with Oliver. The mole," Felicity said cracking her own neck,
feeling the knots in her shoulders, "is going to give the information right to Ilyich. So,
you know what Ilyich will do?"

"What?" Roy asked this time, and Felicity grinned slightly.

"Ilyich is going to behave like the snake that he is when he is stepped upon," she said.
"He is going to make a mistake."

"And what would that be?" Roy leaned forward as did Sara.

Felicity rolled her eyes at them. "Ilyich wants me and he knows Oliver is his bargaining
chip. If he doesn't have Oliver, I will go right underground and he will never find me.
After that phone call, he must have destroyed the phone so that I wouldn't track them
anyway, and then he would have gotten the information about the attack. So, he is going
to be the coward that he is and hide. With Oliver."

Roy's eyes flashed as he caught on, remembering the conversation from the study. "He
is going to get Oliver and come to the second most likely place for him to hide."

"Exactly," Felicity nodded. "Maverick's Point. He is going to show up here anytime with
Oliver, with a few men at the max while the rest of his crew takes the brunt of the
attack. Anatoly, if he is who he is, is going to deal with those people just fine."
Sara frowned. "But how will he know if you come?"

"He wouldn't," Felicity said. "He would be expecting me, especially after that call, to be
at Lexington with the others. But we are going to catch him here. I figured I couldn't
put all the fighting pressure on Roy so I called you for back-up," she told Sara.

"Good," Sara smirked. "It has been too long since I have kicked some ass."

Felicity smiled and prayed that she was right. She had thought long and hard about it,
and knowing everything she did, this was the only thing that made sense. She had to
catch Ilyich and put him to the ground, once and for all. She had to do this.

And worse come worse case scenario, she would get Oliver out unharmed. He had to be
safe.

Sitting there, she understood the need to protect that burned inside Oliver every time he
looked at her. The same burn was coursing through her veins. They were forged from a
similar fire, kindled similarly in their needs. That fire burned in her, waiting to destroy,
waiting to protect.

Tonight, she realized, sitting there, she was not the daughter who had been sold away
by her father, or the woman who had been wronged on so many levels. Tonight, she was
the wife whose husband had been taken from her, and for the first time, she understood
the depth of the vows that had been said that day months ago in a beautiful garden,
vows that she had scoffed at then, never realizing how deeply they had entrenched
themselves in her.

"Felicity," Roy's alert voice said softly and she sat up straight, peering into the night,
trying to see what he saw.
Movement.

Shapes.

Six men.

She saw silently, her muscles freezing, as she saw Oliver, bleeding and limping lightly,
his hands tied behind his back, three guns trained on his head, and a big man walking in
front of them, flanked by two men, looking around, checking the area. His face was
scarred, from what she could see, and he was big, like Digg big (and Digg not being with
them made her worry), and she knew instinctively that this was Ilyich. The creepy
bastard.

She saw the men enter the warehouse, closing the doors shut and took a deep breath,
unlocking her muscles, taking strength from knowing, seeing the proof that Oliver was
fine, just a little injured. He was fine.

Nodding to Sara and Roy, she inhaled deeply. "Bring my husband back to me."

They nodded back and slowly, they got out, with almost no sound, and Felicity took out
Oliver's gun, the one she had picked up from the safe, before leaving their house, and
loaded it. She had been around enough men in her life to know how to load a gun. She
had been around enough to know how to fire it, even if she was a bad shot. How bad
could she miss if it was pressed against flesh?

Tonight, she would kill if need be.

Tonight, she would destroy and protect.

And she realized as she made her way to the warehouse, Viktor Orlov had been right
about one thing.
She had more Bratva in her than she realized.

25. Fire And Ice

Roy and Sara were already inside.

Felicity slowly made her way into the warehouse, slipping through the side where the
wall had been broken ages ago, the rubble on the ground dirty and dusty, trying to be as
quiet as possible. Never having been stealthy in her life before, she kept the gun aimed
straight ahead, keeping her shoulders straight like she had seen the men in the house
do, the gun heavy in her hands and her arms feeling the strain, her muscles not used to
any of this physical application. Her thigh muscles had gotten stronger due to a lot of
exercising she had been getting with Oliver lately, but not her arms so much. As she
inched forward in the darkness, she vowed that exercising was not done, not by a long
shot. He would be safe and out of this place tonight, no matter what.

Her ears perked up at the male voices coming from the opening at the end of the
corridor, and she very quietly stepped forward, keeping to the shadows, narrowing her
eyes as the inside of warehouse came into view, breathing through her nose deliberately.
Her heart was hammering in her chest but she kept cool. For Oliver.

She saw three men stand guard around the doors. The duffers had not thought to man
the huge inviting opening in the wall. Idiots.

Two men stood with their guns trained right at Oliver's head. And Oliver.

She saw her husband, his lip cut and cheeks bruised, sitting with his hands tied behind
his back on a chair, his hard eyes seemingly neutral on the big man pacing in front of
him. He seemed neutral but Felicity could see, even from the distance, the absolute
hatred he had for that man. And that more than anything else told her he was Ilyich.

Ilyich , who had just been a ghost till now, in the flesh. Ilyich, who had only been a
name, now had a face. A haggard, scarred face reflecting the ugliness of his soul. Ilyich
who was going down tonight.

She saw Sara move in the shadows above the men holding Oliver, keeping to the metal
beams. How she had gotten up there in the first place was a mystery Felicity would leave
unsolved.

And if Sara was there then Roy would be taking out the guards at the doors. Good.

"You have quite the Bratva wife," she heard Ilyich start to talk, in a gruff, heavy voice,
heavy with disuse, the Russian accent barely recognizable in his tone. And the ass was
talking about her. She reined in the fire, her fingers tightening on the gun.

"She commanded her men into attacking my men," Ilyich went on, walking in front of
the chair, back and forth, his hands in his pockets while Oliver watched with that
pseudo stoic expression on his face.

"She must be something fierce. Now this makes me even more determined to take her
under me and command that fierceness." Ilyich leaned closer to Oliver, sneering. "Oh, I
will have her for me. Rip her open. And I will make you watch as she screams, before
cutting her off and then cutting you off. I will make you watch everything."

She saw a muscle in Oliver's jaw tic as the veins in his neck throbbed evidently. But he
remained silent. Waiting out Ilyich like she had waited out Yulian in the office.

And that gave her pause.

Her Oliver would be out of that chair in a jiffy and breaking bones by now, especially
after what Ilyich had just said. Her Oliver was a possessive, territorial beast he would
unleash on these men for even thinking about her like that. But he was silent and
waiting Ilyich out. Like she had waited Yulian out. And she had had a plan then.

She had had a ~plan!~

Her eyes widened as realization dawned upon her.

~Oliver had a fucking plan!~

That was why he had asked her not to come!

She wildly glanced up at Sara and Roy, trying to warn them to hold it off, not wanting to
interfere with whatever Oliver had planned more than she already had. But they were
not looking at her, their gazes firmly trained on their targets. Frack.

"I'd have to call her and ask her to come now," Ilyich said, gloating. "And she would
come running after I broke your leg for her to hear."

She saw the sneer curve Oliver's bloody lip, the darkness in that sneer giving her chills.

"You won't touch a hair on her head," he said in a low voice and Felicity's heart
plummeted at the fierceness in his tone, making her realize how foolishly the idiot had
let himself get caught and how foolishly he was ready for torture.

Anger burned in her, at him. He was supposed to tell her of his plans, not go half cocked
into the den of the lion. Or snake. Whatever.

Ilyich pulled back a hand and punched him in the ribs, making him cringe and the fire,
which had receded at the knowledge of Oliver's plan, blazed forth, completely untamed.
~How dare he?~

How dare he lay a hand on him?

She felt the sourness in her mouth and saw as Roy and Sara nodded to each other and
dropped down from the rafters. Sara landed right behind Oliver, catching the men off
guard and engaging them in a fight that impressed the shit out of Felicity, her
movements quick and agile and so very fast, using her short size to her advantage
against her huge opponents. Roy landed in front of the man in the center, knocking him
down in seconds and flipping over the wall to kick the third one while shooting at the
second one, the element of surprise aiding him as well, along with those dang flips he
was so proud of, his athletic body giving a gymnast a hike.

Felicity saw them fight and saw Ilyich take his own gun out, aiming it at Oliver's head
as he looked back at Sara and Roy in slight surprise. Ilyich cocked the gun and fired it
up in the air once before pointing it back at Oliver, making both Sara and Roy freeze in
their actions. Felicity's heart dropped to her knees for long seconds before she
straightened.

"Stop or I shoot him now," Ilyich said in a cold voice and the sight of the gun on
Oliver's temple, his finger on the trigger broke down the thin hold she had had on
herself. Quietly, she stepped forward into the shadows, slowly inching her way to him
along the wall as Sara and Roy were taken hold of by the two conscious men. Two
against two. They would handle those odds easily.

She moved low.

Ilyich kept talking. The man liked the sound of his own voice too much.

"Well, well, this is unfortunate. Now you all have to die. And I'm done with the effort.
I'll find her if I have to tear the ground."
"Or maybe I'll just come to you, you moron," Felicity said coldly, the fire not tethered
inside her, stepping behind Ilyich, barely reaching his shoulder but pressing the gun at
the base of his spine.

She saw Oliver's jaw clench in her periphery.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he grit out in a hard voice.

"Shut the fuck up," she shot back. She'd deal with him later.

Her eyes were trained on Ilyich as she pressed the gun harder at the spot. "Drop your
gun on the ground, now."

He didn't move. Nobody did. And she was so done.

She began conversationally in a frigid voice. "You know this spot on your back, you
jackass? You know what happens if a bullet goes in here?"

No movement. Just breathing.

"Worst case scenario, you die while your brain spasms in agony or worst case scenario,
you live in paralysis for a very painful life. Dealer's choice."

She felt the muscle in his back move and she kept her finger on the trigger, ready to
shoot, snarling. "You twitch and you are dead. Drop the gun!"

After a few seconds, Ilyich dropped the gun beside Oliver's feet.

"Arms above you head," she ordered roughly. "Roy, Sara, get the guards tied up. If
anyone tries anything, kill them."
Oliver remained completely quiet the entire time, glaring at her. She ignored him.

Focusing on Ilyich, she spoke. "You wanted to meet me so bad, right? I'm here. Now
what?"

"Do you know what your father did, little girl?" Ilyich spoke addressing her.

She didn't answer. He continued. "He sold me little girls like yourself for over ten years.
So many girls. But not one escaped. Except two. Oliver Queen's sister and his wife. He
will die."

"Not before I blow your spine off."

Suddenly, the doors to the warehouse burst open and five men entered the space, armed
to the teeth in guns, and the moment it took her to blink at them, Ilyich had turned
around and twisted her arm behind her back, the gun clattering to the floor beside her.

Sara and Roy started fighting them, gunshots ringing out everywhere, but could not
hold up against all of them after a few minutes. She watched with her heart sinking.

She felt Ilyich's breath on her ear as he pressed himself into her hip, making her skin
crawl and bile fill her mouth.

"You think I am a fool, girl? You really thought I wouldn't have back up coming here?"
Ilyich sneered and she clenched her teeth at her own foolishness.

He pressed himself harder against her hip and she gagged, her eyes finding Oliver's who
just sat there, completely still. Eerie still. Like he had in Yulian's office. Their gazes
locked and she saw the coldness in his eyes, the one in complete contrast to the fire in
her veins.
"You shouldn't have come here," Ilyich whispered. "Now everyone will watch as I fuck
you. He," he said pointing to Oliver, "will watch and he will beg for me to spare you."

Disgust mingled with rage inside her, before the fire slowly ebbed. Looking at Oliver,
she felt her own insides still. Ilyich wanted to rape her in front of Oliver.

The fire died as she realized how far she was willing to go. She could not make him
watch. This would destroy Oliver more than all his scars combined. She remembered
every moment she had spent with him in the last few months, from the way he stroked
her spine in bed to the way he grinned at her, crinkling his eyes to the way he tickled
her and to the way he watched her when he entered her, to the way he muttered Russian
into her hair. He did not deserve this. And she would never destroy him like that. Not as
long as there was a breath left in her body.

The fire inside her slowly shifted to something cold, so, so cold that it burned like ice
did when held for too long. She looked at Oliver, feeling how he felt when he went still,
cutting himself off from himself. That is how he did it and it helped. By each vow she
had made to him, she swore she would not make him watch. She would not let Ilyich
touch her. No matter what she had to do.

She decided this in seconds.

She felt the change inside her in seconds.

And she saw him see it in those seconds, his own eyes recognizing her so much better
than she did.

She saw the panic in his eyes as he read hers and she closed hers, shutting him out. She
would not make him suffer. Not anymore. A tremble came to her jaw but she held it
back. Stillness was her ally now.

Ilyich turned them around and she closed her eyes, opening them and looking at the gun
on the ground mere inches from her feet. She just had to get to it. To the gun. It was
already loaded. She needed the gun and had to get it. Somehow.

"Felicity," she heard Oliver speak, a slight shake in his voice only she could detect. He
knew. He had seen that cold enter her veins.

She ignored him. She was doing this to keep him safe. To protect. He would not suffer
anymore. She would not let him watch.

She shifted to the side, feinting, and before she could reach the gun, she saw Oliver's
muscular legs shoot out, his body planted in the chair, and grab Ilyich's right calf,
twisting it sharply, breaking his knee, the snap loud in the silent warehouse.

Ilyich screamed in her ear from the pain, letting her go and falling to the ground on one
leg and Felicity escaped his clutch, watching all hell around her break loose.

She reached for the gun, picking it up and turning around, training it right on Ilyich's
head, her insides completely still, unable to feel anything. That stillness she had only
seen in Oliver had scared her. But she did not care for it now. All she felt was the weight
of the gun and Ilyich's pulse, still beating when it should not be, his face twisted in
agony when it should be twisted in death.

She would have put the gun to her own head had she not been able to free herself from
Ilyich, anything to spare Oliver from the devastation of watching what Ilyich had been
going to do to her. Oliver would not have survived that. And she could not have survived
that. She could not break him.

But it had not come to that and she had the loaded gun ready to go into Ilyich and
finally end him.

She wanted nothing more.

Everything around her became white noise. She let herself become unaware of what was
happening around her, who was doing what. None of it mattered.

All that mattered was focus. Focus on the pulse throbbing invitingly in his temple.
Focus on the heart that was still beating in his chest. Focus on the gunpowder she
wanted to feel on her hands. Focus on that urge. That urge. To kill.

She breathed in softly, once, twice and let her finger rest on the trigger, feeling the
texture of the metal, the coolness of it. That coldness which was resonating inside her
with every beat of her heart. She brushed the trigger once, feeling the weight of it settle
on her hand, looking down upon the man clutching his leg when a voice penetrated her
bubble.

"Felicity."

She didn't move. Nothing mattered except ending this man right here, this man who
had caused so much pain and torment to so many girls like her, so many victims of his
monstrosity, so much pain in her own life and Oliver's. And he had wanted to break
Oliver. He had wanted to make Oliver watch and shatter him to pieces.

He had to die.
"солнешко."

The voice penetrated the bubble again and she turned her head sideways to see Oliver
standing beside the chair, miraculously free of his ties, watching her carefully with
slightly panicked eyes, one of his hands reaching towards her. She turned back to the
man on his knees.

He spit out on the ground. "You don't have the guts to do it."

Her hands tightened on the gun.

"Baby," Oliver's voice came again softly, commanding her senses to acknowledge him.
"Look at me."

She did swiftly, watching him inch carefully closer to where she stood, like he didn't
want to spook her. She was still cold.

"Your father sold you to the highest bidder like the whore you are," Ilyich laughed
again. "Like the whore i was going to make you. Right in front of him."

Her jaw clenched, her blood running colder. He had wanted to break Oliver. Oliver did
not need any more pain.

This man had to die.

"Put the gun down, солнешко," came quietly from the side, and she saw Oliver coming
closer, his hand raised towards her. "Think of the mirror, Felicity. The mirror you love
so much. Let's go home, baby. Put the gun down."

She grit her teeth, the ice inside her beseeching her to continue. She wanted to see the
light go out in those dark, cruel eyes that were laughing at her. At Oliver. At every girl
he had destroyed.

"Felicity, look at me, baby. Keep your eyes on me," Oliver said in that soft, soft voice of
his.

"Yes, look at him," Ilyich sneered. "See the man who bought you from your father. Does
he enjoy that body of yours? Is he getting worth his money?"

She looked at him, unable to let go of the cold. Of the stillness.

Oliver's voice came again. "Put the gun down, sweetheart. You deserve better. Put the
gun down."

Ilyich laughed.

She couldn't. Her arms refused to move. Her body refused to listen.

Oliver stepped into her space, his hand going to hers on the gun, his gentle touch
jolting her. She blinked up at him as he took the gun out of her hands, and she looked at
him, her eyes getting big.

"Get her out," he spoke quietly, nodding to someone behind her and she saw Digg step
forward, taking a hold of her arm.

Digg? The relief she felt was just a twinge in front of the stillness as she kept her eyes
on Ilyich.

He laughed manically again. "You think this will end now? You think I'm the end? As
long as you breathe with him you are nothing but what your daddy thought. And I
would have ripped you open right in front of this man, made him watch you scream till
you died, made him watch..."
Felicity lunged for the man and felt Oliver's grip on her hand along with Digg's tighten,
the stillness in her aching to end the man on his knees, gnawing to crush his windpipe
with her bare hands.

~"Get her out, now!"~

She felt Digg drag her away at Oliver's booming command and struggled, keeping her
eyes on Ilyich.

"Let me kill him," she spoke out loud for the first time, her stilled eyes on Ilyich's
grinning face.

"Digg, get her out of here," Oliver said and she pinned him with her eyes. He looked
back evenly.

"I need to kill him," she muttered in a low voice.

"You need to leave."

Digg dragged her out and she kept her eyes on Ilyich, the quiet inside her loud, aching
to be felt. She didn't feel it.

She walked on numb legs outside, watching Roy and Sara but not interested in how they
were injured, not interested in when Digg got there, not interested in anything except
seeing the light go out from the dark eyes inside.

The urge had frozen her.

The stillness chafed her.

And she waited, watching the door to the warehouse, seeing Oliver emerge from it after
minutes, limping slightly and bruised.

He nodded to Digg, whom she felt leave her side and watched Oliver reach where she
stood in the darkness, his gaze intense on her face, making a ripple in her still cold
waters.

~ "Don't you ever dare to do that again!" ~

His hands went straight to her face, gripping her hair and tilting her face up, slanting
his warm mouth right across hers.

It was the warmth that undid her. She felt it seep into her from where he kissed her
ferociously, seeping into her muscles and blood and bones, slowly chipping away at the
ice, melting it, warming her. She felt the stillness crack as a shiver wracked her frame.
The stillness cracked and everything she bottled up in the last few minutes that had felt
like hours cracked open, making her entire body tremble uncontrollably.

That is when she felt him settle his mouth over her more fully, while wrapping her in
his muscular arms, pulling her into his chest, warming her even more. She gripped at
his biceps, anchoring herself to him in the sudden maelstrom inside her that was
threatening to take her someplace she did not want to go, holding on to him to make
him keep her there and not go into her own mind.

She sobbed against his lips, her throat catching on the sound and his arms tightened
around her, warming her even more, the fire diminished, the ice gone, leaving her in the
flux.

"Oliver," her mouth trembled against him. "I was going to... I was..."

"Never again, Felicity. Don't you even dare to ~think~ what you did inside!"
She came unhinged.

"Come here," he said softly, shushing her and pulling her into his chest completely,
obliterating out everything. "We are together. It's okay."

"But I was going to..."

She sobbed harder, shaking uncontrollably and just his arms kept her from flying apart.

"But you didn't," he said firmly into her ear.

"I would have if...," she spoke into his chest.

"Just shut up, Felicity. It's over now."

It was over.

It was truly over.

She clung to that fact and clung to him, calming her breathing slowly, letting him calm
her, wrapped in his arms and feeling hers wrapped around him, feeling him so alive
against her, all the stress of the longest day of her life leaving her in shreds.

It was a good thing he knew how to patch those shreds together.

"Take me home," she whimpered softly.

Oliver pulled back, kissing her once more, before taking her hand and pulling her with
him to the SUV. He tucked her into the seat, getting on the driver's side and pulling
away.
Drained, she took a hold on his hand and closed her eyes, finally able to breathe for the
first time since morning.

It was truly over now.

They were going home. Together.

26. Purging

Felicity stood, slightly numb from the multitude of emotions she had felt in the mere
span of hours, watching as Digg and the doctor were trying to patch up Roy and Sara
and Oliver. Roy had bruised ribs and a long cut on his forearm along with a mild
concussion. Sara had a bleeding gash on her head and bruises over her neck where
someone had gotten close enough to strangling her. And Oliver.

Oliver. He had a slightly sprained ankle, cuts on his torso, deep gashes on his wrists
from where he had been chained and hung, strained shoulders, a light cut on the lip, and
a cut on his head that needed three stitches. Digg, who she still had no idea how he was
fine, came to stand in front of her as the doctor moved to Oliver after checking Roy and
Sara.

"You okay?" Digg asked in a low voice, so only she could hear him, the concern in his
warm eyes genuine.

She took a deep breath, unable to shake of that numbness. "Why didn't you pick up my
call?" she asked equally low, so that only he could hear.

"I didn't have my phone," he said regretfully and Felicity raised her eyebrows.
"You didn't have your phone?" she asked, hearing the skepticism in her own voice.

Digg sighed. "I couldn't risk anyone tracking me through it and we had a plan to
execute, so I left it in my drawer, on silent."

The numbness cracked. But she knew it wasn't Digg's fault and she knew, just like three
years ago when Digg had stood up for her, he would have wanted to keep her in the loop
this time too.

Felicity breathed in through her mouth, keeping her voice in check. "I'm glad you are
fine, Digg. I am very glad."

Digg nodded. "I'm glad you are fine too, Felicity."

Before she could nod, she heard Oliver speaking to Roy and Sara while the doctor
patched him up.

"You guys fought well today," Oliver said, not even wincing as the needle went through
his skin.

Roy nodded, jaw clenched. He seemed angry at not being in on the plan too. Well, at
least it was a club of two now.

Sara's gaze drifted to Felicity as she walked forward, patting Roy on the shoulder like
guys did with each other and taking a hold of Felicity's arm, her eyes alert, knowing
Felicity well. "I am heading home, but I'll see you Saturday?"

Felicity nodded, hugging Sara carefully.

"I don't know what I would have done without you," she whispered in her ear,
squeezing her gratefully. "Thank you, Sara."

Sara squeezed back. "We have each other's back, Felicity. Always have. Always will."

Felicity let her go with a smile, waving her off and Roy left too, telling her he'd fill Thea
in on everything.

Digg went back to stand beside Oliver. Oliver, who was watching her cautiously.

She clenched her jaw and turned on her heel, leaving the medical room without a word
and making way towards the bedroom.

They had gotten back almost an hour ago and the adrenaline had finally worn off,
leaving Felicity so drained she didn't even know what to feel. So, the numbness had
taken over. And now it was fading with every step that Felicity took, fading and being
replaced by complete and utter rage. How dare he?

She walked in the bedroom, heading straight for the bathroom, stripping her clothes on
the way, turning on the tap for the bath, wanting nothing but to soak away the entire
day and push it down the drain. She didn't turn on the light, keeping the bathroom dark
with only a little glow from the light in the bedroom, and stepped into the tub of hot
water, tying her hair in a knot on top of her head. Sinking back into the water, she
closed her eyes and rested her head on the edge of the tub, feeling the hot water slowly
lap at her muscles and relax her, from her collarbone to her toes. She stayed still in the
water, feeling her knots loosening but her mind was whirring too hard for her to drift
off.

She felt him enter the bathroom before she heard his voice call out her name.

Felicity.
She had always loved her name when he said it. The word wrapped around his tongue
and came out in such a different timbre, unlike any she had ever heard before, always
laden with some emotion. The way he said her name had always made her feel like she
had the prettiest name in the world, like her possessing that name was destined so he
could say it exactly like he did. He never said anyone else's name like he did hers. And
that made her feel so special.

Right now, though, she was screwing special in her head in a hundred different ways
and none of them the kind of screwing she liked.

The jerk knew she loved the way he said her name and he was using it shamelessly.

It didn't work. Well, it did a little but nothing she couldn't push back down.

She kept her eyes closed and didn't even twitch when he said her name. Let him screw
that in his head.

She heard him sigh and enter the room, shutting the door behind him, and she heard
him come forward but she didn't react.

She heard little rustling of clothes and frowned internally before she felt the water move
and opened her eyes to see him sink down in the tub in front of her, not caring one bit
about the cuts and bruises that would definitely sting in the hot water. She moved her
legs to one side, part because she was giving him space and part because she was
avoiding touching him, and closed her eyes again, leaning her head back.

His hands came to her feet, slowly massaging the balls and the arch, and oh boy it felt
~really~ good and she knew he had amazing hands, but she resisted temptation and
pulled her leg back. He had screwed big this time and there would be no getting off easy
for him.
"Felicity."

That name thing again. She forced herself not to react.

Oliver sighed again and started speaking, realizing that she won't be melting to his feet
anytime soon in a puddle and his wiles were moot.

"When you gave me the list of places, I knew the place he'd be at because I had heard
rumors about it before. And knowing he was so close, I couldn't not do anything,
Felicity. The plan was to make Ilyich take me, thinking that I had made a mistake, while
Digg worked with a few other people who owe me as backup and eliminate Ilyich."

He paused, waiting for her reaction but when it didn't come, he continued. "The plan
was to lull Ilyich into a sense of triumph while actually attacking him. And knowing
Ilyich had me was the perfect distraction for Digg and the guys to come in. And Digg
had eyes on me the entire time. There was no real danger at all."

Felicity finally opened her eyes and looked at him, the anger inside her simmering but
not spilling yet. He was watching her with cautious eyes, his face somber and his
wounds patched up. She let her eyes take his face in for long moments before opening
her mouth, her voice coming out neutral and conversational.

"And you could not give me a heads up of this idiotic plan because?"

Because he didn't want to worry her.

His eyes narrowed just a wee bit before he spoke. "Because I didn't want to worry you."

Bingo. Word for word.

She continued in the same conversational tone. "And that genius brain of yours thought
that knowing about the plan would worry me more than getting a picture of you strung
up from a ceiling by none other than Ilyich. Wow, Oliver. I am truly impressed."

Her sarcasm was met with definitely narrowed eyes and his jaw clenching. "I hadn't
thought he would do that."

She raised her eyebrows.

He continued. "I hadn't thought Ilyich would ask you to come to him as blackmail. But I
knew you would worry after he sent the text but it was supposed to be over before the
three hours were up. But the attack on the warehouse messed up that plan."

Oliver leaned forward, his eyes burning hers. "You were not supposed to come there,
Felicity! I specifically asked you not to!"

She looked at him in disbelief and huffed out a laugh that did not reach her at all.
"Really? So you thought I would be just sitting here twiddling my thumbs while I knew
you were in danger?"

"That is exactly what you were supposed to do!"

She could not believe him. And she could not stay beside him or she'd murder him
herself.

Getting up swiftly from the tub, she grabbed the towel and wrapped it around herself,
leaving him in the tub, fuming.

"Felicity! We are not done talking!"

The bloody idiotic pig of a jackass!

She stormed into the bedroom and heard him come after her, and before she could stop
herself, she picked up her stray heel and chucked it at his head with all her energy.

He swiped it away with his forearm, his eyes flaring in surprise, before turning into
anger.

"What the fuck!" he cursed, stepping into the room and she picked up the other heel,
throwing that one at his chest, his injuries be damned.

"You really thought for one fucking second that I wouldn't come for you, you asshole!"
she shouted at him as he ducked the other heel and strode forward angrily, limping a
little on his ankle, a towel wrapped around his waist.

She was out of heels and not out of anger so she picked up the nearest pillow and threw
it at him which he flicked away angrily, coming straight at her with intent eyes. And she
felt the fury seep into her bones, so much that she shook from the anger, her heart
pounding in angry beats. She glared at him and started to walk away, past him, when his
hand shot out and caught her arm firmly, whirling her around to face him.

"You are so mad at me, вспыльчивая моя," he grit out through his stupid clenched jaw,
his eyes little orbs of fury that matched hers. "Let's talk about the stupid stunt you were
going to pull."

She tried to remove her arm from his solid grip and he didn't budge at all, just staring
her down. He really wanted to point fingers? Seriously?

"Well, we'll talk about that right after we talk about how stupid it was to give yourself
over to Ilyich for hours!" she spit out, enraged. "He could have done anything to you,
Oliver! Anything! And you effing lied to me. You promised you'd never do that!"

Her voice trembled slightly at the last word but she was yelling loudly at him, trying to
get the point through his thick skull.

"I told you Digg had eyes on me," he repeated loudly. "But you, you took that fucking
gun and looked at me those big eyes, telling me you were giving...."

She tried to look away but he shook her back into facing him, his eyes hard and his
mouth pursed. "Look me in the eyes and tell me I didn't see what I thought I did in that
warehouse in your eyes."

She looked right into his eyes, her heart hammering so loudly in her chest she was sure
he could hear it, and grit her teeth. His blue eyes were piercing hers, steady and
constant and she kept her mouth shut.

~"Fuck, Felicity!"~ he roared out, leaving her arm and turning away, running his fingers
through his hair before suddenly turning to the side and punching the wall forcefully.

Felicity's hand flew to her mouth as she saw the little blood on the light wall from his
knuckles, her anger taking a backseat as she saw, truly saw, the frustration inside him.

Oliver whirled on his injured foot and strode to her, his eyes so, so furious, unlike she
had ever seen before that she unconsciously stepped back, her back hitting the wall,
gulping.

His arms came up beside her head, caging her in completely as he loomed over her, and
he leaned down, his body vibrating with anger.

"How fucking ~dare~ you?"

He growled at her, his eyes pinning her with the intensity as his harsh words brushed
over her.
"You went into the den of the snake and you expected me not to do something about
it?" she asked, trying to change the topic, get that look off his face, anything to avoid
talking about how she had felt in that warehouse.

Oliver didn't give her an inch.

"How fucking ~dare~ you?" he asked again, looking so dangerous that her adrenaline
went through her body, a shiver running down her spine.

"I couldn't let him do that to you, Oliver," she said quietly and he closed his eyes,
reining in his anger.

"So you decided to just say a fucking goodbye and be done with it? After everything that
we have been through, that was what I deserved?" he asked hoarsely, drilling her into
pieces with his eyes.

"You didn't deserve to have to see him rape me either," she replied, feeling that tiny
little flicker of shame.

His large hands were suddenly gripping her face, his own face so close she could feel his
breaths, his eyes intense on hers.

"Now, listen to me, and listen very carefully," he spoke roughly, his voice hard. "You
~never~ , under no circumstances, ever, think of ending your life. Do you understand
that?"

Felicity swallowed and bit her lip, ghastly circumstances coming to her over imaginative
brain.

Oliver cursed at her silence and spoke again. "I should have alerted you of the plan, and
I am sorry. I screwed up. But do you have any idea what it would have done to me,
Felicity, if something had happened to you because of what I had done? Do you have
any idea how even the thought of not having you with me does to me? How it felt seeing
that look in your eyes?"

Felicity's jaw trembled. "I'm pretty sure it's almost like what I felt when I saw your
picture. And the three hours that followed."

Oliver remained silent for a long moment at that, just staring at her, his eyes tormented,
before he spoke again. "In our world, Felicity, bad things will happen. We cannot help
it. Ilyich is gone but I do have enemies who will want to retaliate at me through you. But
your safety is not only my duty, it's my need. And when I fight them, I need to know that
I will have you beside me and not worry about the kind of sacrifices you want to make
for a man like me."

Felicity inhaled deeply, nodding. If they were on the topic. "And you're saying this even
though you believe that I will leave you?" she spoke, addressing the issue that had been
bothering him head on.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise before a wry smile twisted his mouth. "You'll
realize one day the kind of man you have married, солнешко."

She snorted at that. "I already did a few weeks ago. And I have still stayed. Hell, I was
willing to kill myself to spare you pain. I was willing to kill another man to spare you
pain. If that doesn't prove anything, I don't know what will."

Oliver's eyes stayed on her and she sighed. "You need to start believing that you are not
getting rid of me, Oliver."

"And you need to promise me you'll never try to pull the stunt you did tonight."

She stayed quiet and he urged her. "I need to know, Felicity."
Sighing, she nodded. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

"I won't ever do that," she conceded. "But I will protect you too, Oliver. You're not the
only one with something to lose here. And you need to be honest with me."

Oliver shook his head. "There are always going to be things I can't tell you, Felicity.
This business is cruel."

"And you think I don't know that? Tonight was a first-hand proof that I know how cruel
it is," she reminded him.

Oliver scowled. "You know, Felicity. But you cannot handle it. Tonight was also a proof
of that. And I cannot, will not, have you over the edge."

Felicity quieted at that, thinking about it. She was strong but there were some lines she
could not survive crossing and Oliver was right. She had almost gone over the edge
today. And she might have come back, but she would never have been the same.

She shuddered and amended. "Promise me to be honest about anything regarding me,
us."

"I promise," he said without hesitation.

They stayed silent for long seconds before she broke the silence again.

"What happened to Ilyich?"

She saw him stiffen as he looked down at her. "He died."

She wet her lips, wondering if she really wanted to know this. She did. "You shot him?"

"Among other things," Oliver said, his tone final and lethal and she knew he would not
divulge what happened in the warehouse after she came out.

"Why not let me shoot him?" she asked softly, and saw the way his eyes softened at her.

"Remember how I promised to protect you always?" he asked softly, his thumbs
caressing her cheeks.

"Yes."

"It meant not just from other people or me," Oliver spoke, his eyes so, so tender on her.
"It meant I'd protect you from yourself too."

A small sob caught in her throat as her mouth trembled and she blinked up at him, his
thumbs brushing over her lips, just gazing down at her.

She leaned up on her toes, capturing his lips with hers in a chaste kiss, just pressing
their lips together before coming down, watching him intensely.

"If I let you go, will you promise not to throw anything at me?" Oliver asked in a teasing
voice that sent a wave of something intense through her body.

She teased back but didn't smile at him. "Just myself."

His chuckle made his eyes crinkle but she kept watching him, carefully, weighing the
decision inside herself.

Oliver looked at her, puzzled. "What is it?"

It was a lot. And that intensity was not leaving her, instead rolling inside her, wave after
wave crashing against her skin from the inside, her heart a battering ram in her ribs.
She watched Oliver, as he stood puzzled. She watched his furrowed brows and the lines
on his forehead and the stitches at the side. She watched his nose he loved to nuzzle
against her skin and his soft lips that she loved to kiss and his scruff that left so many
burns on her. She watched him, for the man that he was, flawed and so imperfect, but so
hers.

She blinked up at him, letting the words that had been in her heart for longer than she
had realized and on the tip of her tongue every second of every day that she saw him,
out.

"я тебя люблю." (I love you.)

She saw him still completely, as the words he had etched upon her skin, night after
night, were spoken softly back to him. Every muscle in his body froze and she felt the
way his breath hitched, his eyes clenching shut like he was trying to keep the words
inside him, the grip he had on her face tightening.

Felicity was silent, letting him process this, take his time, for moments that he kept his
eyes closed. Her heart was clenched but not because she was unsure of his reaction or
reciprocation. She knew, deep down to her bones, that he had meant the words down to
his bones. She was silent.

Until she saw an errant tear escape the corner of his closed eye, streaking down his
cheek into his stubble.

That was when she moved.

Her hands went into his hair as she pulled his head down into her neck, going on her
toes to accommodate his height, and his own wrapped completely around her back,
pulling her so tightly into his body that she felt the slow sobs wrack his frame.

Her heart clenched for him, aching in her chest for him. Had anyone, apart from Thea,
ever told him he was loved? Had the cruelty and the brutality in this world truly made
him believe he was unlovable? Thea's words from a long time ago came back to her.

~'He hates himself enough for it.'~

She knew how much he hated himself, how insecure he truly was. He had believed for
the longest of time that she hated him. For a long time, she had told him so. And he had
admitted to to never believing he could gain her trust, much less her love, and accepting
it. He had accepted that she would never love him yet he selflessly did. She closed her
eyes, moisture spilling from hers as well, as she understood the depth of his hatred for
himself.

"I love you, so, so much, Oliver," she whispered into his ear and felt his arms tighten
around her even more, her neck wet from his eyes, his entire body shaking in her arms.

He was breaking down, letting go, and she held on to him tightly, letting him, telling
him that she would keep him together. He had waited so long for this. She could feel
that ache inside him. It was so palpable.

She ran her fingers through his hair as he picked her up, crushing her to him like he
would meld their bodies if her could, and she held him.

Their towels went lose and fell down to the floor as she wrapped her legs around him,
but he didn't enter her. He just stood there, slowly breathing softly against her neck, his
tears out and she could feel he was hard but he did not enter her at all, didn't move at
all, like moving would break the moment. She blinked. Did he really feel that moving
would make her take the words back?
She tried pulling back and his arms tightened, not letting her and she knew. The idiot
thought she would regret saying it if she pulled back. And he was going to stand with
her like this all night on that bad ankle.

"Oliver," she murmured softly, her heart melting for him. "Baby, look at me."

He didn't move.

"Please."

She felt his exhale on her neck before he just pulled his head back, looking into her eyes
and she was struck by the pain she saw in them, so naked, the moisture in them so
evident and the fact that he let her see him like this made her heart clench again and her
hands took a hold of his jaw.

"Now you listen to me and listen carefully," she whispered, repeating his words from
earlier, keeping their gazes together. "You are stubborn and rash and you make me so
mad, I'm moved to violence. But you are so, so beautiful, Oliver. You are so beautiful
inside, so strong. You have been through so much and still come out a better man than
most. You amaze me. Stronger men have been made dust in this world, yet you held on,
for so long."

"I did it for you," he whispered, his lips barely moving.

She shook her head. "Even before you met me, Oliver. You did it because you are a good
man. You protect what you love, you are kind to those who deserve it, and you are so
fierce. In your loyalty, in your love."

He blinked at her. She smiled at him. "I am so in love with you. For so long now."
He inhaled jerkily. "I was so scared, Felicity."

"Of what, baby?" she murmured soothingly.

He stayed silent for a second before he spoke softly. "I have never... I didn't..." he
stuttered, inhaling before continuing. "I have loved you for so long from afar, knowing I
did not deserve it. And I was so afraid that telling you that would make you step back,
scare you away. I couldn't... I need you, Felicity."

Felicity tightened her grip on his face. "There is no other man who deserves my love
more than you, Oliver. And there won't ever be. And i don't think you see it, but I need
you too. So much."

Oliver's body shuddered once before he shifted, moving them, and headed for the bed,
his eyes on hers.

He put her down carefully on the covers, and she shifted up to make space for him,
opening her arms in invitation. He lay down beside her, just looking at her face
intensely, searching it, his eyes roving her features and coming back to her eyes, over
and over and over again and she entwined their hands together, letting him take his fill
and satisfy himself. She knew he needed this.

"Please," he whispered the word and she knew, just looking at him, what he wanted. She
felt herself soften. The big dummy.

Brushing his cheek with her fingers, she spoke again. "I love you."

His eyes fluttered close before he leaned in, kissing her pulse throbbing hard,
whispering "I love you" over her skin, his lips brushing over the pulse, skittering it,
making her shiver a little.
He slowly made his way to her ear, pressing small kisses on the way. He kissed the shell
and kissed the lobe, whispering an "I love you" again in his husky, breathy voice,
making her stomach clench and her heart flutter.

He slowly moved down her body, pressing small kisses everywhere, interspersing each
of them with a soft "I love you", making her languid and making her pulse jump in the
assault of the emotional and the physical. They were intimate. He kissed the top of her
breasts and her nipples and her ribs and her stomach and her navel and her hipbones
and at the juncture of her legs and her thighs and her knees and behind them and down
to her toes. He kissed her everywhere, not once using his tongue or teeth, keeping it just
to his lips, worshiping her body and saying "I love you" a million times over, etching it
on her skin and on her heart with each time.

By the time he came back to her face, she was an emotional, writhing mass waiting for
him to slide home and waiting to pull him to herself and never let go. He brushed their
lips together, murmuring that "I love you" in his raspy voice over her lips, his eyes on
hers, like he was making up for all the times he should have said it.

"I love you," she rasped back and felt his mouth settle more solidly over her and him
settle between her legs, hiking them up and high over his back, and slowly sliding inside
her. Her mouth opened at the exquisite feeling and their tongues met, slowly, softly,
entwining with no hurry as their hands caressed each other. Oliver pulled back his head
and entered her again, watching her like he liked to every time, keeping their eyes
locked. But this was more intense somehow, than every other time. The knowledge of
finally knowing had shifted something inside him and she could sense it in every slow
thrust and every caress of his hand. She could sense it in his eyes.

The threat was gone and they were together and he was her husband.

Hers.
Thrusting her hips back at him, she pulled him down for another kiss, this one
scorching in its tenor, all tongues and teeth and wet and his pace quickened reflexively
as she clamped upon him, over and over and over again.

He pumped his erection in and out of her, over and over and over again, his hands
becoming rough on her breasts as he tweaked her nipples, the pull going straight to her
core and she flexed her hips back at him, biting his jaw roughly.

"God, I love you so fucking much," he ground out, burying his face into her neck, biting
her. There he was. Her rough biter.

She grinned at his nips, even as he pistoned his hips and spoke into his ear, scratching
his back with her nails. "Right back at you, baby."

He went a little faster, peppering her neck with nips. "You are so mine."

She would have laughed had stars not started to dance behind her closed eyes. "Yes.
Yes. Oliver."

He was plunging in and out of her furiously now, and her mind drifted to his injuries for
a second before Oliver's gruff voice came to her. "C'mon, baby. Come for me, Felicity."

And she shattered at his command, keening loudly as her back arched off the bad,
gripping his back to tether her as she clamped around him so tightly, clinging to him in
her bliss and he kept at it, not stopping at all, his motions making pleasure explode in a
continuum inside her and she came again in seconds, screaming his name, her walls
clenching so tightly around him that he exploded inside her, a garbled version of her
name leaving his lips before he collapsed on her shaking body.

The aftermath was good. It always was. His weight on her didn't stifle her, but made her
pull him closer.
Tonight had been close.

Tonight had been very close.

But tonight had been big too.

And despite the day, the month, the years they had had, at the end of the day, she had
him in her body and her heart and a smile on her lips to speak for it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity giggled as Oliver told her about his time in Rome.

They had slept late in the morning, dead tired from the events of the day, hell the last
month, and slept with relief for the first time in a long time. They had woken up
entwined like they did and made love again, this time with him pulling her to the edge
of the bed as he stood and her legs thrown over his shoulders as he took her ferociously.
Oliver, despite being tender, would always be ferocious with her. That was just the way
he loved and she loved him for it. But the new position, the new angle, Oliver's size and
pace and just all round talent, and the mirror reflecting their wanton selves had made
her come thrice before he had.

It had exhausted her but she had been happy. Deep inside, feel-down-to-her-bones
happy.
They had showered together and she had taken a look at his wounds before they
dressed, exchanging heated looks and small kisses, and gone down for breakfast.

Digg and Roy and Thea had already been at the table eating and Thea had rushed
forward to hug the two of them the moment they stepped in. Then, Oliver and Digg had
talked about the wrap up of the entire fiasco, and how to make sure no one took over
while she and Thea and Roy had discussed day to day stuff.

The breakfast done, Oliver had pulled her to the sun-lit gardens and sat down on the
grass, removing his shoes and she had looked at him in surprise, never having seen him
so at ease and relaxed. She had sat down beside him, cross-legged, and he had put his
head in her lap, and started talking, opening up to her in ways she had never thought
possible. He told her about his mother, how she had been before she died and about his
father and his cheating ways. He told her about Thea as a baby and Raisa as the woman
who left her own house to look after them. He told her about when he joined the Bratva
and how much he traveled and different people he met. Lots of anecdotes.

She kept brushing her fingers through his hair, enjoying their moment, letting him
speak and unburden himself, opening up about a little at least.

"Remember that time you nudged me with you foot at your father's dinner table?" he
asked after a moment of quiet.

She blinked down at him in surprise before nodding.

"I swear I wanted to throw you over my shoulder and take you then and there," he
spoke, smiling softly. "It had been the hottest thing I had ever seen."

She grinned. "You mean my hotness quota has gone down since then?"

Oliver's lips turned up and she smacked him on the head, giggling.
He pulled her head down by her hair and kissed her softly, making her moan.

"Don't you have work to do today?" she asked in a breathy voice.

"I'm taking a very well-deserved day off to work with my wife," he murmured back.

They were just getting into the hot kissing part when someone cleared his throat and
Felicity's shot up, cheeks flushing, to look at Digg looking down at them. His face was
solemn and not smirky like she would have thought.

She felt Oliver notice the same and sit up beside her, looking up at Digg. "What
happened?"

Digg's eyes flickered to her before going back to Oliver, and he took a deep breath and
spoke.

"Viktor Orlov is dead."

27. Purified

Her mom didn't even flinch.

Felicity looked at her as she sat beside Anatoly's wife on the chair. The funeral was over.
It had been over for quite some time and the entire back lawns beyond the gardens at
her father's house were filled with people who had come to pay their respects to the
great Bratva leader. Viktor Orlov, to the world, had been a fair, dangerous man. Only his
family knew the truth about him. And that was how it had to remain.
After the news from Digg, Oliver had walked to his study, making calls while she had
called her mother, first and foremost, concerned about her. And she still remembered
that conversation. Her mother had been quiet, subdued but not overtly grieving. And
when Felicity had asked, she had simply said, "It had to happen, Felicity. There is no
divorce in our world, and I could not have lived with him knowing what he did, not just
to you but to so many other girls like you. He was a monster and I would have poisoned
him myself, sooner than later. I am glad I didn't have to."

To say Felicity had been stunned would be an understatement. She had been more
surprised by her mother's murderous intentions that her own father's death. A death,
that later Oliver had told her, had come by his own hands and Anatoly had watched as
the man had shot himself in the head. He had also told Anatoly, after wrapping up at the
warehouse, that there were letters for her and her mother in the drawer of his office.
The letters that they were supposed to get on the day of the funeral.

The three days since had flown by. She had helped her mother with the arrangements
and Oliver had been helping Anatoly transition over to Viktor's post. Anatoly himself
had been torn when Felicity had met him. And she had hugged him tightly, both in
compassion and relief that this man was innocent and their relationship not tainted
with whatever she had been doubting him of. Anatoly had hugged her back, happy for
the monster who had died but moved for the brother he had lost. Her father and him
had been together since way before she had been born. She could not have imagined the
kind of pain Anatoly must have been in. But he had put up a strong face and gotten back
to work. The Bratva could not handle being vulnerable at a time like this, when Ilyich
had died but his minions hadn't and they had to be ready and strong.

So, he had been on call with Oliver, handling the issues, weeding out the moles. Felicity
had stayed with her mother. Donna Smoak had not flinched then, when she had been
given the news. And she had not flinched since. She had not smiled but she had not
shed a tear. Her mom was many things, but a pretender she was not. She had been
enthusiastic about the funeral arrangements, much to the raised eyebrows of many
people, but not Felicity. She loved her mom even more for the amazing, strong woman
that she was. And she knew her mom would have poisoned her father without blinking
just like she would have shot Ilyich without blinking.

And Felicity had never felt more proud of her mother as she did right then, sitting in the
lawns on the metal chair, looking at the cool, composed face of her mom across from
her as people started moving into the house for refreshments.

The last three days had been busy for all of them, and while she had been busy with her
mother, Oliver had been busy with Anatoly. Now that the older man had taken over, the
business and dealings between both of them would be more polite than it had been with
her father. She knew Oliver was genuinely respectful of Anatoly and she knew Anatoly
respected Oliver. It boded well for both the families and the Bratva as a whole. But with
everything collapsing with the death of two major players, Ilyich and Viktor, things had
started to come apart and Oliver and Anatoly, along with other men, had spent most of
the last three days in the offices and studies, not even coming up to sleep in their beds.

Felicity had understood, obviously she did, but she had been worried about him. Oliver
had been injured and he hadn't slept for almost three nights, which did not help his
healing at all. But they had been between their and her father's house for three days and
while Felicity had scooped in with her mother, she and Oliver had barely seen each
other even in passing. That was how busy he had been.

She looked at him as he stood next to Anatoly now, listening to whatever he was saying,
in his black suit covering his muscular body and the black tie that just made her itch to
remove it. She looked at him and sighed. It had been three days since they had even
spoken properly, all because of the circumstances, and she missed him. Just missed
lying beside him as he stroked her spine and whispered in her ear. Waking up with him
entwined around her and seeing them on the mirror. Even throwing things at him and
seeing him get all riled up. She missed him.
And whatever her mother said, she knew she missed her father too. They had been
married for more than twenty-five years. That did not just go away.

Felicity got up from her seat and walked towards where her mother stood in her black
dress, and slowly hugged her tightly.

"I am so sorry, Mom."

Donna Smoak's arms tightened around her as she whispered back softly. "Don't be,
honey. It was time for this to end. I am just so happy you married a man like Oliver."

A man who would protect his child at all costs. Felicity knew what her mother meant
and she squeezed her back softly, looking into blue eyes like her own.

"You know you can come and stay with us, right?"

They had had this discussion as well. Multiple times. And her mother had had the same
answer, every time.

"I know," her mother nodded, smiling. "But I won't. This is my home and that is yours.
I'm just happy you are so close by."

"Always, Mom," Felicity kissed her cheek and took a step back, leaving her to speak
with other guests and made her way towards where her husband and her uncle stood.

Oliver had his broad back to her but as she walked closer, he shifted slowly, making
space for her beside him, sensing her presence just like she sensed his, so attuned to her
as she was to him it was a surprise they were not magnets. Or maybe they were.

She stepped beside him and felt his muscular arm go around her waist, holding her
close to his side as he continued speaking with Anatoly.
"So, in case if they take over? What then?" he asked in his business voice, his thumb
rubbing slow circles over her hip.

Anatoly gave her a small smile before addressing Oliver in the same serious voice. "In
that case they would want retribution for their leader's death."

Oliver sighed heavily, and she could feel the agitation in his coiled muscles.

Softly rubbing his back to keep him calm, she looked at Anatoly. "Is something wrong?"

Anatoly frowned, glancing at Oliver before sighing himself. "No, it is not yet. We are
just preparing for a possibility."

She nodded. "We will see to it when it comes."

Anatoly smiled at her words, shaking his head. "You have so much Bratva in you,
Felicity."

Felicity felt herself stiffen slightly, remembering the last words her father ever spoke to
her. "Viktor said the same."

Anatoly's eyes dimmed at the mention of the man and she felt Oliver rub her back this
time, in that special way of his, immediately soothing her frazzled nerves.

"That reminds me," Anatoly said, putting a hand in his jacket pocket and taking an
envelop out, "this is for you. Since the funeral is over, you can read it now if you like."

Felicity stared at the plain white envelop with trepidation like it would bite her. Did she
really want to read what her father had written into it? She kept staring at it for way too
long, without making any move to actually take it.
After minutes, she saw Oliver's free arm come into her line of vision and take the
envelop from Anatoly, putting it in his pocket.

She looked up at him, puzzled and he smiled softly at her. "You don't have to read it
right now, Felicity. Whenever you are ready."

A breath left her and she felt her heart burst with the love she felt for him and gripped
his shirt with her fingers at his back, letting him know she appreciated his gesture,
silently.

They mingled with the guests for a little longer, but the more time they spent there, the
more she could see the absolute exhaustion on his face. After almost an hour of
socializing, she realized Oliver was more tired than he had let on when he leaned a little
on her. And that was when she put her foot down and nodded at Digg to get the car out.
They were going home and that was that.

Oliver protested a little when she led him to the driveway but she paid him no heed,
getting him in the car with a forceful push and asking Digg to drive off, straight home
as fast as he could. Oliver leaned his head back on the headrest and she took a hold of
his hand, slowly massaging the knuckles he had bruised when he had punched the wall
three nights ago, watching his profile as he kept his eyes closed and breathed in softly,
just letting her work his hand.

The sun was setting low in the sky by the time they reached home and pulled in the
driveway, and Oliver got down from the car with a groan, pushing himself into a walk.
Felicity made him lean a little on her, which was no easy feat because lordy, the man
was ~heavy.~ The walk from the front door to their bedroom took almost 15 minutes and
by the time she shoved him on the bed and shut the door, she was panting heavily, her
muscles burning with the exercise.
But she didn't stop to take a breath because she knew he would fall dead to the land of
the living in a second and removing his clothes would become torture.

"Oliver?" she spoke softly, running her fingers through his hair and he leaned into her
hand and purred like a big cat. He literally purred and Felicity felt a small smile lift her
lips.

Quickly, she stepped in between his legs and quickly removed his jacket, throwing it to
the floor beside her and then went to work on his buttons, drooling like she always did
at how yum he was and marveling that he was all hers. She got the tie out and threw it to
the side, along with the shirt. Then she kneeled on the floor, unlacing his shoes and
removing his socks, then went onto his belt and removed it quickly, throwing them all
with the other bunch of his clothes.

She looked up at him, to find him watching her with tired, half lidded eyes, and she
suddenly flushed, realizing the position she was in. Which was ridiculous considering
they had had oral sex, before other sex, a gazillion times. And she still flushed.

She unzipped his pants, unbuttoning them and looked up at him. Had he not been as
tired as he was, she would have tried something. But now was not the time. He needed
his sleep more than he needed her at the moment.

"Lift your hips a bit, baby," she told him quietly and with a huff, he did, and she quickly
pulled his pants down, along with his boxers, and left them on the floor.

Standing up from the floor, she pushed him back on the bed, and he lay down quietly,
just watching her through those sleepy eyes, but still watching her.

She pushed and settled him into position, pulling the covers up to his waist since he
liked to have his torso free, and tucked him in, sitting beside him, softly drawing gentle
patterns on his face.
"Sleep, Oliver."

With a soft kiss to his lips, she pulled away, when his fingers caught her wrist, and he
looked up at her with a little more alert.

"Don't go," he whispered, his voice scratchy.

She smiled, kissing his fingers. "I am just going to change and get right in bed with
you."

"Okay," he whispered, his eyes closed, his breathing already evening.

Felicity got up from the bed and threw her black, modest dress away in the pile of
clothes on the floor to be looked at in the morning, kicking off her heels and dropping
her underwear as well. A few weeks ago, she would not have been as comfortable in her
own nudity as she was now, in this room, with him. Shaking her head slightly, she took
out a t-shirt from his drawer and pulled it over her head, comforted by his scent, and
went to the washroom to clean off her make-up and brush her teeth, finally ready to get
in bed.

As she switched off the lights and walked to the room, her eyes fell on the envelop that
had slid out from his jacket. She stopped, staring at it, that innocent piece of paper that
held the words of a dead man, which still had some sort of a hold over her. But she knew
she wasn't ready to read it. Not right now.

Shaking herself from her stupor, she walked to the bed and settled in beside her very
naked husband and turned the lights off, settling her head on his arm and wrapping
herself around him.

"Good night, baby."

His simple whisper made her look up at him in surprise, only to find his lips twitch a
little.

"I sleep good with you beside me," he murmured and she kissed his chest, snuggling
closer to him. Her big dummy of a husband. How could she have forgotten about the
nightmares he had, the nightmares which he held back by holding her.

She felt his breathing finally even out and a soft snore escape him and she looked at him
again in surprise. He never snored. Ever.

And this only meant one thing. Nothing short of a zombie apocalypse was going to
wake him up.

With a soft giggle at him, she closed her eyes and slept beside him after three very long
nights.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Felicity sat on the beach, staring at the waves and the sun going down over the horizon,
streaking the sky different hues of red and purple and the rolling waves on fire. It was
peaceful in a way Felicity could not really explain.

She had gotten up this morning, sated, content in her sleep, and rolled over to find
Oliver still waiting for that zombie apocalypse to wake him up. She had stayed in bed
for half an hour, just watching him sleep, watching his scruff that had gone without a
shave for too long, and watching his eyebrows so relaxed in oblivion and his soft, soft
lips. She had also seen the fading cuts and bruises on his face and his torso. The small
cut over his lip. The long gash on his forehead. And she had realized that no matter how
scarred he could get, she would always love him for bearing those scars and coming out
the stronger for them.

Finally, her bladder poking her insistently had had her pressing a small kiss to his head
and sliding out of bed, picking up the strewn clothes and putting them in the laundry
basket, as she headed to the bathroom. Once freshened up and after her shower, she had
changed into one of her most comfortable dresses, flowery and pink and flip flops and
gone out to see him still sleeping, hugging her pillow.

Deciding to give him a well deserved late morning in, she had gone down to the kitchen,
to see Thea and Roy making out and had cleared her throat, wrinkling her nose as she
had picked up a bagel.

Thea had pinned her with a glance before she could even speak. "Do I need to remind
you how I caught you and Ollie in the hallway the other night?"

Felicity had flushed, remembering the very compromising position they had been about
to get into right before Thea had interrupted them, and then Roy had cleared his throat,
effectively steering the topic of conversation to less mortifying grounds. Once done
with feeding herself, since she had missed dinner last night, she had piled up eggs and
toast and some fresh fruit in a bowl and a glass of juice on a tray and taken it up to their
bedroom, studiously ignoring the snigger Thea gave and the smirk Roy did.

Inside the bedroom, she had just set the tray down when Oliver had opened his eyes
suddenly, looking around for her, his body tensing till his eyes found her beside the bed
with the tray.

She had seen him visibly relax and a wondrous look take over his face as he had eyed the
tray in her hands.

"No one's ever gotten me a tray in bed," he had murmured softly and her heart had
clenched. God, he needed to know how loved he was. He would have to get used to a lot
of love from her.

She had smiled and tilted her head towards the bathroom. "Just go freshen up quickly."

He had freshened up and had been out, sitting on the bed in his fresh boxers while
munching on a toast, his eyes focused on hers. But before he could say anything, a
knock on the door and Digg's voice asking Oliver to come down had interrupted. Oliver
had sighed, groaning, and headed for a shower, his face again furrowing in tense lines.
He had come out in ten minutes, ready in his jeans and grey t-shirt, and left after a
quick kiss on her lips.

After that, she had wandered to her own office and looked at the Bratva issues since the
death of her father, the envelop burning a hole in her bag where she had put it before
leaving the room. Come evening, there had been no word from Oliver and she had been
bored in the house, more distracted by that letter than anything else.

So, she had told Roy that since the danger had been gone, she was going out for a drive
and she would call if she needed any help. Roy had tried to argue and after minutes, she
had conceded that he drive her rather grumpily.

So, he had taken out her small car and driven her to the beach as per her request, the
dusk closing in on them, and she had asked him to park once they reached, telling him
to stay with the car and give her her space. He had agreed to that and she had hiked her
purse over her shoulder and walked to the small alcove of rocks where she and Oliver
had made out after their first date, sitting down in the completely secluded area,
covered from the world with only the open ocean facing her and rocks on either side and
her back.
And sitting there now, watching the sun slowly be swallowed by the sea, she finally
mustered courage to take out the envelop and open it, her hands surprisingly steady, as
she opened the paper, her father's handwriting stared back at her as she began reading.

~'My dear Felicity,~

~I know you have no desire to speak with me and I know I am your culprit. But I have a
lot of things I need to clarify to you. To tell you. So, I am going to write this letter to you
and explain everything, things I was too ashamed to admit to you face to face. If you are
reading this, that means I am dead. That also means that you may find some forgiveness
in your heart for a dead man.~

~The moment you were born, I fell in love with you. You were so beautiful, so precious
and you were my daughter. I never wanted another child because you brought more
happiness to me that anyone else could. I know I did not show this enough, but I was
always so very proud of you, of the woman you were becoming. But along the way, in my
own pride, I let go of my love for you. I became involved with more than one bad people,
and the more I tried to get out of it, the more involved I became.~

~I know you have no reason to believe this but I have to tell you. I would not just have
let anyone marry you. I had done enough wrong by you and I was so involved with Ilyich
by then that I knew I could not protect you on my own. So when Oliver came to me with
that deal, I took it not to save my own neck but to save yours. It was the only thing i
could see that would keep you safe and the only thing I thought would make me undo,
even in the slightest, what I did to you without your knowledge.~

~Oliver had always been an honorable man. He had been someone I respected and
someone I knew would cherish you and protect you more than anyone else. The moment
he entered my office that day with that deal, I knew that you had been involved during
his time at our house three years ago. And looking at him that day, I saw in him what I
had failed to see in myself in the mirror- a man who loved and protected you more than
his own self. A father knows these things, Felicity. I did too. But I never spoke because
what right did I have anymore?~

~Every time we met afterwards, my pride and my ego would not let me bend. And as
much as I hated it, I could not change that. It was too late for me. But marrying you to
Oliver, despite your wishes, was the only choice I had for you. That is the only good
thing that came from my mistakes. I know I was wrong and I can probably admit that
now because I am not facing you.~

~Yes, I am a coward. And I have made mistakes. Too many to forgive. But I am also your
father. And believe one thing, if nothing else, that I have loved you every day of my life,
Felicity. From the moment I counted your toes to the moment you told me I was gone
from your life. I have loved you and I never told you this enough. I am sorry.~

~Your happiness with Oliver gives me so much happiness. You are married to a man
who will never do wrong by his child the way I did by mine.~

~I wish you all the joy in the world. I am sorry I can never get to see your children and
even get to see you smile.~

~But smile, my Felicity. You deserve all the happiness, my daughter, and remember, that
while I loved you and failed you, you have a man in your life who will not. Stay with him.
Cherish him.~

~And be happy. I hope one day you will be able to remember me without hate.~

~Love always,~
~Your father.'~

Felicity looked down at the paper, tears rolling down her cheeks, emotions swirling
inside her. She closed her eyes and breathed through her mouth, trying to keep her
small sobs in her throat. She remembered the way her father used to count her toes even
as she grew up, right before he used to tickle her. She could not reconcile that man with
the man she had loathed for weeks, the man who had ruined her life.

But as she reread the letter, again and again and again, she felt a kind of peace settle
over her, and she realized that her father had given her something she had needed-
closure. Yes, she would take a very long time to forgive him. A letter was not going to
solve that. But she felt better, somehow, knowing he had written this for her with
honesty. He was a coward and he admitted that and had killed himself. But even going
away, he had given her this. This, she could be thankful for. She could be thankful for
the little pieces that fell into place inside her.

Wiping away her tears, she smiled at the ocean, and leaned back on the rocks, just as
her phone buzzed in her bag.

Pulling it out, she saw a text message from Oliver and opened it.

**Oliver : ~Roy tells me you have been at the beach for an hour. You okay?~**

Felicity felt a small smile cover her face at his concern and quickly typed a response.
**Felicity : ~Since when does Roy play Gossip Girl?~**

He was online and quickly typed a response back.

**Oliver : ~You didn't answer my question.~**

So smooth. Felicity huffed a laugh, feeling happier than she had in what felt like a really
long time. Narrowing her eyes at the screen, knowing he was probably with his men,
she bit her lip and typed back.

**Felicity : ~Actually, I am not okay.~**

The response was quicker.

**Oliver : ~What's wrong?~**

She inhaled deeply, wondering if she could do this. She could do this.

**Felicity : ~I am horny.~**

Lord, that was cheesy. She blushed, thinking what his face must be looking like.

**Oliver : ~So am I.~**

Oh frack. Breathing deeply, she swallowed, feeling the slight ache in her core slowly
come to life.

**Felicity : ~What are you going to do about it?~**

**Oliver : ~What do you want me to?~**

**Felicity : ~I would tell you in person but since you are home...~**
She waited for him to reply but he didn't. He went offline and she stared at the screen,
biting her lip, wondering if he got busy again. Sighing, she leaned back against the
rocks, shaking her head at herself. Of course he got busy. These last few days had been
hell for him and here she was, telling him she was horny and probably not helping at all.
She'd just go home soon and help him relax. Maybe give him a little massage. Run him a
hot bath. She exhaled, closing her eyes.

Now that she had experienced that bliss with him, she was hooked. And after so many
days of no sex, she was going in withdrawal.

Her phone buzzed again. She looked down.

**Oliver : ~Tell me in person.~**

Felicity frowned before looking up over the rocks to see Oliver's car beside hers as he
spoke to Roy, and Digg got in her small car with Roy (and how the hell did he fit?) and
they drove off.

Oliver strode to the back of the car and pulled it open, taking out something she
couldn't see in the dark. She suddenly felt the cool wind on her bare arms, raising a
littler of goosebumps along her flesh as she saw him stride around the car and over to
where she sat. Her heart started pounding as she saw him come closer, his eyes intense
and focused upon her, and she could not understand what he had done at the back of the
car.
She frowned at it until he came to her, and sat on his haunches, gripping her face with
one hand and swooping down to peck her on her lips almost teasingly, once, before
opening her mouth with his and kissing the life out of her for long, sloppy minutes, the
only sounds around them being their own heavy breaths and the waves. Just them.

He pulled back and Felicity chased his mouth, trying to get him to kiss her again but he
grinned softly at her, making her pout as her pulse raced through her body and the
constant state of arousal she had been in for a while headed to its precipice.

"I'm glad you are so happy to see me" he said softly, shifting her over with one arm and
sitting behind her, leaning against the rocks and turning her.

She straddled his thighs and looked at him, feeling the bulge in his jeans against her leg,
and smiled.

"I'll be more happy to see the little you. Not that it's little. It's not. I'm very impressed
by your size. I just meant..."

His chuckle made her bite her lip and stop and his face came to her neck, his nose
nuzzling her skin as wind blew around them.

"I'm sorry I have been so busy lately," he whispered softly into her skin, pressing soft
little kisses right on her erotic points, points he had discovered after very thorough and
great research, points that even upon receiving simple kisses made her keen softly, and
upon getting teeth and tongue made her whimper loudly. He knew. She knew.

"You don't have to apologize, Oliver," she said, panting softly, gripping his hair. "I get
it. I read my father's letter."

He stopped, looking up at her in concern. She smiled at him. "I am fine."

He searched her face for a long time, and relaxed when he saw how truly happy she was.
Then, slowly, he continued lavishing her neck and upper breasts with soft kisses and
tiny nips, making her smile again, the coil of need inside her wounding tighter and
tighter, his own bulge rock solid and straining against his jeans. Carefully, she lowered
her hands and unzipped his jeans, his hiss of breath right over her fluttering pulse,
turning her body even hotter as she writhed on him, and she freed him, taking him in
her hand, rubbing over his entire length.

"Felicity," he hissed again, rocking into her hand, so hard for her that she felt a thrill of
pleasure shoot over her body at his unabashed reactions.

"Stop," he said firmly, pulling his head away and closing a hand over hers, stopping her
motions.

She looked down at him, puzzled. "What?"

He sighed softly. "Just wait a second before we get to it."

Felicity felt herself cooling a little, looking around. "Is the place unsafe? Is someone
going to come here?"

Oliver's lips curved as he shook his head. "Hopefully the only people coming here will
be us."

She blushed, clearing her throat. "Then what?"

Oliver gazed up at her softly, with that look in his eyes, that tender, precious look and
her heart stuttered in its beats. Would his look ever cease to make her react like this?
She really hoped not.
He looked down at her lips, brushing them slowly with his thumb before taking her
cheek in his hand, his other going to his jeans pocket.

"I know this is really silly," Oliver began, his voice all raspy and masculine, sending
tingles over her, "but now that everything is behind us and you are staying," a little look
of wonder crossed his eyes at her staying even now before he continued, "I just thought
you might like this."

"Like what?" she asked, feeling her brows come together.

Oliver smiled at her, his rough hand so soft on her face, holding her like she was so
precious. "I never got to do this right with you, but I have always wanted to."

He slowly opened his other palm, revealing a ring resting in the center.

"Felicity Smoak-Queen, will you marry me?"

Felicity looked at the ring incredulously, then at him, before she burst out laughing, in
loud peals at his absolute adorableness.

"Oliver, we are already married," she said, waving her left ring finger, with the beautiful
wedding and engagement ring on it.

Oliver looked down sheepishly before looking up at her. "I know. And we definitely
don't need any vows or ceremonies or anything. It's just for us."

She felt herself softening at his sweet, sweet gesture. "Won't my finger get crowded
with that ring?"

Oliver shrugged, offering it for her inspection. No, her finger won't get crowded. The
ring was just two thin platinum wires, criss-crossing each other, with no jewel or stone
anywhere on it. Just a simple, yet elegant and feminine band. It was beautiful.

"Ask me again," she said softly, looking at the ring.

He spoke. "Will you marry me?"

And then she looked at him, right into his eyes, giving him her ring finger and leaning
down to whisper against his mouth.

"I'll marry you every time you ask me to, Oliver Queen. My answer will always be yes."

And he slid the ring home, closing the gap between their mouths, the unhurried pace
from earlier being replaced by not hurry but something more intense. They didn't have
time for foreplay. They had had enough foreplay.

"God, I love you," he muttered, as she felt his big hands rip her panties away and settle
her over him, his hands taking a hold of her hips under her dress, their mouths
connected. He checked her with his fingers first, like he always did, making sure she
would not be uncomfortable and then slid her over him. Felicity spread her knees apart
and lowered herself onto his erection, taking him inside her body softly, her eyes closing
at the fullness of him, something that surprised her every single time.

Suddenly, the sand gave away beneath her knees and she fell on him, his length
penetrating her body to the hilt suddenly, and a scream ripped out of her throat at the
sudden invasion. She felt him pulsing inside her, like a live creature, and her walls
clenched around him as they acclimated, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he
shuddered.

"Fuck! Are you okay?" he ground out roughly.

Felicity inhaled, flexing a little, and the sudden jolt of pleasure made her moan loudly.
"I'm fucking fantastic."

He chuckled slightly, his own hands gripping her hips hard, and tilted her back slightly,
away from his torso while leaning back. The change in angle, while he was lodged
inside her, made her moan again, the fullness of him undeniable in this angle and
position.

He turned his face to kiss her wrist, before his guttural words reached her. "Move,
baby."

Breathing in heavily, she raised her hips, his hands helping her, and felt him slide across
her inner muscles, her walls feeling every throb of his, every vein of his, every pulse of
his. A shiver whacked her entire body as he almost came lose and Felicity held herself
above him, waiting to slide down slower this time. But his hands suddenly pulled her
down while he thrust up, filling her again in a second and wrenching a cry from deep
inside her at the bouts of pleasure shooting through her veins. Her heart hammered so
loudly she could feel it drumming in her veins, with every hit of his erection right
against her core, every slide up and down and up and down and every rough breath they
took.

"Oliver," she cried out, panting as she moved up and down again, his hands guiding her
over his hips, their pelvises coming together and moving apart again and again. Oliver
kissed her hands, her rings, over and over again, grunting and muttering her name. Her
knees were burning on the sand but she did not care, the burn in her body so much
more important.

And in that moment, when he kept thrusting up into her and she kept riding him and
flexing her hips and pounding on him, that moment when he bit her wrist and licked at
her pulse, muttering a primitive "Mine", that moment when days of sexual deprivation
and buildup spilled out from her mouth in a cry from her gut and she exploded like a
firecracker in his arms, clamping on him so tightly, over and over and over again till he
came, flooding her with his essence, with her name on his lips, in that moment, she fell
in love with him again.

They came down from their highs, wrapped around each other, and he kissed her softly,
over and over again.

"I love you," he whispered softly against her lips, looking into her eyes, his honesty, his
truth, all bare for her.

"I love you," she whispered back, tightening her arms around him as they kissed again,
feeling herself fall in love with him even more.

It was not only because of the sex.

It was not only because he had the most selfless heart she knew of, because he loved and
trusted and sacrificed so completely.

It was not only because of the past, and who they had been years ago, even months ago.

It was a little because of the present, and who they had become on their way back to
each other, who she had become with him. She liked this woman, this woman who had a
husband she could trust and whom she loved more than anyone; this woman who had
been unsure about everything in her life but now had one certainty for as long as she
would live. They had crashed and burned and come out stronger than before. It was
because of the pain and the tears and the smiles and the love. It was because it was all
worth it, it had been all worth it.

It was because of the future she could now see for them, so clearly.

And right now, sitting with him, kissing him, breathing him, feeling so complete and so
whole, when she remembered her father's letters and looked back upon everything in
her life, she knew one thing with certainty.

He had been worth it. They had been worth it.

And she would not change a thing.

Not a single thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is going to be a little long. I cannot believe that this incredible journey has come to a
close. And trust me, I am all kinds of emotional right now. When i started this story, I had no
idea, NONE AT ALL, of the kind of warmth and love it would get. I had no idea that you
would get so involved with Oliver and Felicity, that you would curse Oliver and hate him for
breaking her heart and slowly fall in love with him as she did. I had no idea how phenomenal
the response to this story was going to be and I had been so unsure about it in the beginning.
But you, my dear amazing readers, have encouraged me so much on this journey, been by my
side. I have made incredible friends and met so many amazing people in this fandom because of
this, and The Phoenix has such a special, special place in my heart. It was a hard story to write
and emotionally draining but I loved every second of it because you did too. The Phoenix would
not have been The Phoenix without any of you. So thank you. Thank you so much, to all of you
who told me you looked forward to it, and commented and liked and just read it. To all of you,
you are incredible people. You are amazing. And I thank my lucky stars everyday to be a part of
such an amazing group of people.

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