[ if there had been any last reservations about proceeding, about getting out before they’re in too deep, they’re gone now. he doesn’t know what he thought opinionated, decisive, cut-the-crap felicity would say in response. something abstract and enticing? who does he think he’s kidding here? he can picture her clear as day, standing in front of him, shedding a red coat with nothing else beneath it. ( and it would be red, wouldn’t it? ) her words send a flare of heat through him as quickly as if she were actually here in person, climbing up his body.
is it possible to be jealous of yourself? only oliver queen himself would find a way. ]
You would like me down on my knees. [ it's not a sight that many people have seen and lived to talk about. ] I like that. [ since they're pointing fingers. ] Picturing you in a power position with your hands in my hair and my tongue inside you. I'm not opposed to your knees above my shoulders and your thighs squeezing my face either.
[ whether or not she needs to hear that he could do that all night ( if she wanted him to ), he's distracted. he veers away from the visual hard and he's pretty glad that they're not discussing this over a direct video feed because the little groan he makes is embarrassing on basically all levels. and then he stops being relieved about that because seeing her ( it's enough, it is ) has nothing on hearing felicity talk to him this way. ]
Yeah? How do your fingers measure up? Do they feel good?
Mine do. [ and that's—it's weird, okay? describing something to her that she already knows intimately. ] Thinking about you touching yourself because of me helps.
oh right, hella nsfw.
is it possible to be jealous of yourself? only oliver queen himself would find a way. ]
You would like me down on my knees. [ it's not a sight that many people have seen and lived to talk about. ] I like that. [ since they're pointing fingers. ] Picturing you in a power position with your hands in my hair and my tongue inside you. I'm not opposed to your knees above my shoulders and your thighs squeezing my face either.
[ whether or not she needs to hear that he could do that all night ( if she wanted him to ), he's distracted. he veers away from the visual hard and he's pretty glad that they're not discussing this over a direct video feed because the little groan he makes is embarrassing on basically all levels. and then he stops being relieved about that because seeing her ( it's enough, it is ) has nothing on hearing felicity talk to him this way. ]
Yeah? How do your fingers measure up? Do they feel good?
Mine do. [ and that's—it's weird, okay? describing something to her that she already knows intimately. ] Thinking about you touching yourself because of me helps.