"Isn't it a little too late to be decorating for Christmas?" Oliver asked, handing Felicity yet another ornament.

Felicity greatly accepted it, placing it perfectly among the other ones on the tree. "It's not my fault you put off helping me for so long." She reached behind her, awaiting the next one. "This could have gotten done a long time ago."

"You could have gotten Diggle to help you," he argued, picking out a gold one this time.

He would never admit it, but he was actually enjoying himself.

"No, Diggle was busy decorating for his family," Felicity reminded him. "You should be thanking me for helping you out."

"Felicity, the only other person who will see this is Thea, and she stopped caring about Christmas long before I did."

"I'm hoping that will change when she sees the amazing job we did."

Felicity stepped down from the stool she was standing on, admiring the large tree. It looked beautiful. Oliver had complained about carrying it, but she knew he had lifted heavier things before. Instead of pitying him and his sour attitude, she had stood back and watched the muscles work underneath his thin shirt. If she were being honest, she wished he would have taken it off. No matter how many times he drifted around shirtless at work, she never got sick of it.

"Felicity?" Oliver murmured, touching her shoulder.

She jumped a little, scolding herself for zoning out again. Whenever shirtless Oliver popped into her head, there was no escaping the trail of thoughts that followed. Well, nothing besides the cruel sound of reality. It was times like this when she wished she were alone in her house.

It was always so embarrassing when Oliver snapped her out of her thoughts involving him. She felt as though he could see inside her head; felt exposed. Felicity knew her face was red. Oliver gave no indication that he had noticed.

"The tree looks great, don't you think?" she asked him, stepping closer to the fireplace.

The way the flames were waving in the reflection of her glasses had his mouth drying. She almost didn't look real. The heat between them was there- it always was- but this time, it was only being fueled by the presence of the fire.

Earlier, something had told him starting up a fire was a bad idea. The whole situation was practically screaming bad idea, if he were honest with himself. Him and Felicity alone at his place on the one night Thea told him she wouldn't be home. Maybe that played part in his decision to hold up on their decorating until now. Had he subconsciously wanted to wait until the day Thea would be far away from the place to invite her over?

It was a strange thought, he knew that. Still, it wasn't surprising. The holidays always brought out the sensitive side of him- Christmas especially. Thoughts of his mother and father plagued him consistently. Being around Felicity only made his emotions react more heavily. It was taking everything in him not to kiss her with all he had. At this point, it wouldn't take much to get him to do exactly that.

"The tree looks fine," he answered, voice surprisingly steady.

"I'll take this Christmas as a success then," she smiled, glancing around the room. "Should we hang the stockings?"

"Sure," he nodded, lifting them from the couch.

Graciously, she accepted them. As she approached the wall, she grabbed two thumbtacks from the small table that was adjacent to it. Standing on her toes, she lifted her hand as high as it would go. Blindly, she pressed the thumbtack through the thick plaster. She could feel Oliver's eyes on her the whole time. He was taller than her. He should have offered to help. Somehow, she was glad that he had kept his distance. There was something about knowing he was watching her that made her feel special.

"How does that look?" she questioned, turning her head to the side, but still not being able to spot him.

She heard him shift, the room silent except for the cracking sounds escaping from the fire. "I, uh, yes, it looks good," he stuttered, making her consider what else had been on his mind.

Shrugging off his strange behavior, she positioned the other stocking a few inches to the right of the previous one. And Felicity, being as clumsy as she was, let the thumbtack slip from its not-so-safe place between her lips, and onto the hardwood floor. The little sound it made as it hit the ground guided her to the place where it had fallen.

Due to the only light in the entire room coming from the fireplace, she was becoming more dependent on her hearing. Instead of squatting down like she normally would, had she been in a room with anyone else, she bent completely down. Her body folded forward, giving Oliver the show she knew he craved.

Now, if she had really took the time to consider the outcome of her actions, she would have probably come up with something innocent. Most likely, he would clench his jaw and tear his eyes away. If not that, then he would mutter something under his breath and continue to stare. Not one of her thoughts could have prepared her for what actually happened.

Almost instantly, his body was pressed against hers. His lower half dug into her, her fingers dropping the stocking that she had been holding. A sound that she wasn't sure had ever been made by her escaped through her lips at the realization that he was hard. He was freaking hard. How the hell had that even happened? She was seriously only down there for like two seconds. Was it really that easy to get him going?

Fuck, she was so turned on.

One of his strong arms snaked around her midriff, hand covering the place that was now aching for him. Felicity raised her body from the ground, still flat against his chest. Her right hand moved to the side of his face, guiding his lips to hers. Kissing Oliver Queen wasn't like she remembered.

Sure, she had remembered it as being incredible. It still was. However, there was something different about the kiss they were sharing now. This one felt almost unreal. She thought it would be awkward considering the weird angle to which it was occurring. It happened to be the exact opposite. His lips were firm, yet soft at the same time. His tongue had swiped along her bottom lip numerous times before he attempted to push it through her lips.

Despite her feeble attempts at turning around, his hand remained against her center, holding her in place. At this point, she only had control of her lips and hands. Luckily, that was all she needed. Deciding to take this opportunity to discover what really made Oliver Queen tick, she wove her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. That only made him kiss her harder.

Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip, declaring that move as experiment number two. The reaction to that was almost unbearable. The hand that was emanating warmth to her through her tight skirt, raised itself to the waistline of the clothing. Almost roughly, his fingers tugged at the zipper. She could feel the rumbling in his chest as her lungs struggled to receive air through his demanding lips.

His hand slipped beneath the grey cotton of her skirt, a groan leaving the back of his throat with the realization of the absence of her panties.

"I didn't want lines," she tried explaining through breaths.

If he cared about her answer, he sure didn't show it. His lips immediately covered hers again, tongue colliding with hers in what felt like a scolding way. Going at such a slow pace, she almost didn't feel his fingers begin to move against her. Gradually, they picked up speed until she was saying his name in a whining sort of way. One of his fingers, she assumed it was his middle one, suddenly entered her. Her head uncontrollably swung back, hitting his shoulder.

Oliver took that as an opportunity to suck at her neck, finding the exact spot that had her legs turning to jelly. With one finger pumping into her and the others rubbing against her tortuously, she could feel her incoming orgasm. Her legs clasped together, lips opening to release the cry of pleasure that he had brought upon her.

Her body had arched into him, and she knew she would have collapsed onto the ground had it not been for his arms wrapped securely around her. Only when she could stand upright and was no longer seeing spots in her vision did he allow her to face him.

All of his clothes were still on, and she saw that as a major issue. Her hands appeared at the bottom of his shirt, lifting it over his head. He pulled her to him, kissing her once again. Meanwhile, her fingers traced over the indents of his abs and the creases of his scars. Somehow, they landed on the button of his pants. He cursed to himself when her knuckles brushed over the very obvious bulge in his pants.

Just as he had teased her, she decided to return the favor. Slowly, she undid the button and pulled down the zipper. It was so quiet in the room, they could both very clearly hear the noise of the zipper being lead to its end. Impatiently, he kicked off his pants. He would have done the same with his boxers had her hand not stopped him.

The pleading look in his eyes almost had her taking pity on him. Almost. As her fingers danced along the rim of his boxers, her lips kissed his neck. How was it possible for a man to smell as good as he did? His scent had her practically drooling. The fact that he tasted so good didn't exactly help matters.

Just as he had done to her, she allowed her hand to slip under the material of his boxers. She knew her fingers were cold. No matter what the situation, they always were. Her body was a million degrees right now, but her fingers felt like ice. She could tell he felt it, too, by the way he jumped. She sucked on the spot just below his jawline in a reassuring way, feeling his body relax slightly.

Starting from his base, she stroked her way down. She did so slowly, not sure why she expected for it to be a short job. Her eyes widened at the eternity it seemed to take for her to feel the tip of his throbbing erection. He groaned as she worked her way back up. There was absolutely no issue with her getting him off until he came. In fact, she discovered that she would find it pleasurable to have done so. Sure, it wouldn't be the same pleasure that would most definitely be brought upon by him inside of her, but pleasure nonetheless.

He, on the other hand, wouldn't allow any more than three strokes before stopping her willing hands. Something inside of him seemed to have snapped. The calm fire she had earlier seen reflected in his eyes seemed to be blazing now. An almost fearful feeling took place inside of her. Stepping back about a couple inches, his eyes traveled over her body.

His hands grabbed the ends of her no longer tucked shirt, pulling apart the opposite ends so roughly, each button flew off in a different direction. She gasped, completely helpless to his darkened eyes. Large hands palmed her breasts though her black bra, working her up in an entirely different way. She could feel her nipples pressing into the material painfully.

Without her even noticing, he had managed to remove the bra from her body. All that remained between them now was a loose skirt and some very revealing boxers. If she were sure of only one thing, it was that she needed him now. Her entire body was practically shaking with the anticipation of it all. Judging by the antsy look in his eyes, he was right where she was.

Letting the skirt pool around her ankles, she sheepishly looked up at him. His jaw was clenched, and she swore she saw his eyes darken ten shades more so than they already were. From that point on, she let him be in control. He gratefully accepted the job, beginning with the removal of his last article of clothing. He didn't even give her the opportunity to marvel at him like she was already starting to do.

With basically no guidance at all, she fell back against the cushions of the couch. His body loomed over hers, hips pressing into her desperately. Making sure she was fully aware of what his next action would be, he tilted her chin up so that their faces were perfectly aligned. Then, causing a feeling like no other, he was pushing into her.

She had no control over the repetitive way his name escaped through her lips- that's how incredible it felt. He filled her completely; something that had never been done before. Also, he never broke eye contact with her through each centimeter of her he entered. His hands clasped hers above her head in a surprisingly arousing way. As his hips rolled upwards, her vision began to blur.

With each thrust, she could feel her walls crumbling further. Based upon the bruising way he was now kissing her, she figured he felt the same. The friction between them was nearly unbearable. God, had she been wrong when thinking his accuracy had ended with his bow and arrow. The perfection of the angle to which he was hitting her at was insane.

It was no wonder she was digging her nails into the back of his hands and wrapping her legs tightly around his waist a few minutes later. He kissed her as she came for the second time that night, swallowing her scream. He shortly followed, head burying itself into the crook of her neck. She ran her fingers through his hair as he finished, a wave of satisfaction washing over her.

When he had finally caught his breath, Oliver pulled out of her. He collapsed next to her on the couch, pressing her into his side. He kissed the top of her head sweetly, arms securing her against him. She let out a sigh, and his eyes looked down at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concern in his tone.

"Would you believe me if I said I was cold?" she responded, making him chuckle.

He reached forward, pulling the blanket from the top of the couch down. Spreading it over their bodies, he returned back down so that she was lying on him again. Holding her there, he could feel the doubt emanating from her mind.

"Oliver, do you regret this?"

Her voice was small, and he knew the courage it must have taken to ask him that. If he said yes, it would destroy her. Good thing he would never in a million years think of saying he regretted anything about Felicity Smoak.

"Of course not."

He felt her body relax, not even realizing it had been tensed. "OK, good."

"Do you?"

He knew it was a silly question. Still, he felt the need to ask. There was always a comfort that came to him brought upon by reassurance. Some might call it an insecurity, but he would never refer to it as that.

"You know I don't," she answered, voice vibrating over his chest. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he breathed, closing his eyes.

Sharing this moment together was better than any gift they could have received.

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