[so yes, this was a huge mistake and not for the reasons he might be thinking of. the problem that she has now, is that he's mentioning things that are only possibilities to him, but is a very real past for her and because she's now so turned on that it aches between her thighs. she feels the orgasm that's waiting to be had and she wants him to be the one to give it to her. no offense to ray palmer and his incredibly giving, boyscout-type sex abilities, but oliver queen is on another level and she knows that level intimately.
hell yes, she wants him down there all night.
i was wrong. i want you to fuck me until i can't walk - probably the very wrong thing to text him when she's this worked up. the rejection isn't something she can handle right now and teasing herself with her fingers is just going to have to do. again.]
You can put your mouth anywhere you want as long as I get to return the favor. You've never objected to me on my knees, either.
[she licks her lips at the memory of sucking him off, swearing to herself that she can taste him now. a video would be so helpful and so awful all at the same time. again, tempting, but she resists.]
Your fingers feel so much better than mine do. You're an expert at making me come apart. [His do? is he stroking himself? with her eyes closed, she can picture it like it's happening in the bed next to her.] How good do they feel?
Not as good as I imagine your mouth feels. [ make no mistake because he is thinking about her lips wrapped around him, the slickness of her tongue. she doesn’t belong down on her knees for him — she doesn’t belong near someone like him, never has — but he can’t help himself, can’t stop roping her into his orbit. can’t release the tether that somewhere out there, at some time, they have this. ( the grit and the blood, and the bodies. they have that too. ) ] But I know what I like. I can draw this out for as long as I want with the slide of my fingers and the right press of my thumb.
[ does he? does he want to keep this going? like felicity, he can feel the impending orgasm. in the sense that if he keeps going, eventually he's going to hit that peak. he can take a shortcut and get there quickly or he can keep texting her. it's wrong in all the right ways. this is on the line of what they can and can't get away with. he can feel himself veering into the wrong lane at incoming traffic but if he hit something, made it real, he'd pull over in a heartbeat. she's right to avoid inviting him over. as much as he wants felicity, it isn't strong enough to compete with what he won't let himself have.
not yet. ]
I'd rather be using them on you. [ but that's breaking the fantasy here, isn't it? ] Learning you by the sounds you make. I can picture it, you know. You and I, in your bedroom. Your legs parted, me between them. You trembling on my fingers, riding my hand.
[ his confidence stems from lust, from knowing for some crazy reason that felicity is one-hundred percent into him. if his palm isn't cutting it, he can guess that her fingers aren't living up to expectations. ]
[she supposes she could invest in some, possibly use them in her very shallow sex life. She's just never really needed them before and she doesn't need them now. instead, she's thinking again about a video and what she'd do with toys if she had them. what she'd show him. how she'd bring him into the conversation even further if she had something that even slightly resembled his fingers or his cock.
but he's right about one thing - she is truly one-hundred percent into him and reading his texts is bad enough.]
Do you want to hear me moan for you? Whimper your name as I beg to come? I do, just so you know. Can you picture that? [she can't resist telling him everything.] When you're inside me and we're on the edge and you tell me to come for you, I know just how to sigh your name so you come with me.
[she remembers all of it and while she's this close to that orgasm, she wants to deny herself as long as she can. the need to come out on top of whatever sexual game of chicken they're playing is strong; she wants him to know she's heard him and felt him in that moment. she knows how he sounds, too, and she bites her lip before deciding the hell with it and doing the unthinkable.
filming herself through her orgasm from the waist down, moaning his name as she comes, breathlessly telling him to come with her, she waits. contemplating the repercussions, she hits send and the video arrives two minutes after her last text, probably about the time he's composing his next one.
[ jesus. the ‘not yet’ by itself has him envisioning what might happen later, after this conversation. he doesn’t believe felicity’s the type to bolt out the door immediately, though she might pick one up for the hell of it when she passes a shop as opposed to walking right on by the store. she guarantees that this is going to haunt him like a presence over his shoulder that he can’t shake off. an insistent fantasy, clawing at the corners of his mind. when he shuts his eyes, he can see her hair hanging loosely at her shoulders, her thighs spread, the soft little pants for air.
yes comes the reactive thought, narrowly restrained. he doesn’t only want to hear her moan, he wants to see it. see her head tossed back, the expanse of her throat, feel her pressed against him, around him. ]
I'm visualizing it now. [ she’s said his voice in a hundred different tones over the years. begging him? that’s. it’s everything oliver wants to discard, purge from his memory. he closes his hand around his phone, grips it tighter, smacks his head back into the wall above his bed. it stings but his pain threshold's too high for that to deter him. ] I bet you're wet, and hot, and perfect. Thinking about you sinking down on me, let alone coming for me, is easily the sexiest gift I've ever received.
[ he's wrong. he's ten thousand kinds of wrong and he realizes it the second her video appears in their message window. ]
Do you want to watch me?
[ he waits for an answer before he sends it off, though if she says yes, she's getting as much of an eyeful as he did. his jeans have been shucked off ( who knows when ) and his black boxers have been shoved down unceremoniously to his thighs, giving him the space to stroke his dick without any fabric hindering him. oliver starts off slow to give her something to watch and builds up to a faster pace, swipes his thumb over the crown of his dick, before dragging it back down with his index finger. he doesn't drag it out with felicity moaning his name ringing in his ears. he could but he also wants to do as she's asked because this is an order he can get behind. he focuses on the head of his dick with steady, shallow pumps. she can't see beyond his lap but the rapidness of his breathing, the flush on his throat, how he groans — he's about to come.
something like oh, felicity tumbles out and his orgasm hits hard.
( which means it's over and he definitely just made porn and sent it to her. )
but. yknow. his cheek's pressed to his shoulder and his phone's next to him and he's boneless in a good way, not ( yet ) paralyzed with the shit, that just happened vibes. ]
[what he sends her is not new, exactly. he's put on that kind of show for her before, but this? this is so intensely private given the obstacles they've been presented that felicity feels almost unworthy of what she's being shown. it doesn't stop her from watching it from start to finish, the sound of her name falling from his lips arousing as always. she rewinds it enough to watch the end again, the visual of his orgasm spilling over his hand as he comes something that hits her hard and she waits a moment before composing herself and a response.]
sorry I wasn't there to ride it out of you.
[which is a lot different than, hey, thanks. that was awesome. she's not deleting it any time soon, not unless he specifically asks.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
hell yes, she wants him down there all night.
i was wrong. i want you to fuck me until i can't walk - probably the very wrong thing to text him when she's this worked up. the rejection isn't something she can handle right now and teasing herself with her fingers is just going to have to do. again.]
You can put your mouth anywhere you want as long as I get to return the favor. You've never objected to me on my knees, either.
[she licks her lips at the memory of sucking him off, swearing to herself that she can taste him now. a video would be so helpful and so awful all at the same time. again, tempting, but she resists.]
Your fingers feel so much better than mine do. You're an expert at making me come apart. [His do? is he stroking himself? with her eyes closed, she can picture it like it's happening in the bed next to her.] How good do they feel?
no subject
[ does he? does he want to keep this going? like felicity, he can feel the impending orgasm. in the sense that if he keeps going, eventually he's going to hit that peak. he can take a shortcut and get there quickly or he can keep texting her. it's wrong in all the right ways. this is on the line of what they can and can't get away with. he can feel himself veering into the wrong lane at incoming traffic but if he hit something, made it real, he'd pull over in a heartbeat. she's right to avoid inviting him over. as much as he wants felicity, it isn't strong enough to compete with what he won't let himself have.
not yet. ]
I'd rather be using them on you. [ but that's breaking the fantasy here, isn't it? ] Learning you by the sounds you make. I can picture it, you know. You and I, in your bedroom. Your legs parted, me between them. You trembling on my fingers, riding my hand.
[ his confidence stems from lust, from knowing for some crazy reason that felicity is one-hundred percent into him. if his palm isn't cutting it, he can guess that her fingers aren't living up to expectations. ]
Do you have any toys?
no subject
[she supposes she could invest in some, possibly use them in her very shallow sex life. She's just never really needed them before and she doesn't need them now. instead, she's thinking again about a video and what she'd do with toys if she had them. what she'd show him. how she'd bring him into the conversation even further if she had something that even slightly resembled his fingers or his cock.
but he's right about one thing - she is truly one-hundred percent into him and reading his texts is bad enough.]
Do you want to hear me moan for you? Whimper your name as I beg to come? I do, just so you know. Can you picture that? [she can't resist telling him everything.] When you're inside me and we're on the edge and you tell me to come for you, I know just how to sigh your name so you come with me.
[she remembers all of it and while she's this close to that orgasm, she wants to deny herself as long as she can. the need to come out on top of whatever sexual game of chicken they're playing is strong; she wants him to know she's heard him and felt him in that moment. she knows how he sounds, too, and she bites her lip before deciding the hell with it and doing the unthinkable.
filming herself through her orgasm from the waist down, moaning his name as she comes, breathlessly telling him to come with her, she waits. contemplating the repercussions, she hits send and the video arrives two minutes after her last text, probably about the time he's composing his next one.
she doesn't need toys.]
no subject
yes comes the reactive thought, narrowly restrained. he doesn’t only want to hear her moan, he wants to see it. see her head tossed back, the expanse of her throat, feel her pressed against him, around him. ]
I'm visualizing it now. [ she’s said his voice in a hundred different tones over the years. begging him? that’s. it’s everything oliver wants to discard, purge from his memory. he closes his hand around his phone, grips it tighter, smacks his head back into the wall above his bed. it stings but his pain threshold's too high for that to deter him. ] I bet you're wet, and hot, and perfect. Thinking about you sinking down on me, let alone coming for me, is easily the sexiest gift I've ever received.
[ he's wrong. he's ten thousand kinds of wrong and he realizes it the second her video appears in their message window. ]
Do you want to watch me?
[ he waits for an answer before he sends it off, though if she says yes, she's getting as much of an eyeful as he did. his jeans have been shucked off ( who knows when ) and his black boxers have been shoved down unceremoniously to his thighs, giving him the space to stroke his dick without any fabric hindering him. oliver starts off slow to give her something to watch and builds up to a faster pace, swipes his thumb over the crown of his dick, before dragging it back down with his index finger. he doesn't drag it out with felicity moaning his name ringing in his ears. he could but he also wants to do as she's asked because this is an order he can get behind. he focuses on the head of his dick with steady, shallow pumps. she can't see beyond his lap but the rapidness of his breathing, the flush on his throat, how he groans — he's about to come.
something like oh, felicity tumbles out and his orgasm hits hard.
( which means it's over and he definitely just made porn and sent it to her. )
but. yknow. his cheek's pressed to his shoulder and his phone's next to him and he's boneless in a good way, not ( yet ) paralyzed with the shit, that just happened vibes. ]
no subject
sorry I wasn't there to ride it out of you.
[which is a lot different than, hey, thanks. that was awesome. she's not deleting it any time soon, not unless he specifically asks.]
Maybe next time.