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Oliver rubbed his eyes, the numbers and graphs on his computer monitor seeming to not want to stay still for more than a few seconds while he stared at them. With a frown, he realized that it wasn't just fatigue or his distaste for accounting that was causing the problem. Count Vertigo had nearly dosed him with an aerosol version of the narcotic, and Oliver had gotten enough in his system and on his costume to have been feeling off all day. Diggle had reported some of the same symptoms, so he knew he'd tracked it back to the lair.

He touched the intercom button and called for Felicity. He'd meant to ask her to get him something to clear his head but when she headed into his office, high heels and tight skirt as always, Oliver's head immediately cleared. That is, everything was suddenly sharper and in focus, but the words that came out of his mouth were entirely unexpected.

"Miss Smoak, I'm afraid we need to have a serious discussion about your workplace attire."

Any time Oliver calls her into his office Felicity feels like she needs to brace herself for the inevitable request and denial of coffee. It's a merry war at least, and her mouth is opening to remark about Ollie's caffeine intake when what comes out of his stuns her into astonishing silence.

Miss Smoak?

Her worplace attire?

(Give her a minute, Oliver. She'll get it.)

"My uh, workplace attire." Felicity blinks owlishly as she approaches his desk, letting her fingers rest on the edge. She smiles at him, affecting a mock put-off air. "Well hey, give me a raise and I'll dress better. It's not like I don't work overtime with you." A blink. "I mean, we work really hard." Another blink. "At...what we do."

He ignores the standard unintentional double-entendres that somehow continually to work their way into Felicity's everyday speech. Part of Oliver had a good hunch that it was a whole lot of Freudian slippage, but that part wasn't concerned with word choice right now.

"You've done enough raising already," he said coolly, pushing his chair back from the desk. "Those skirts are scandalous. I'd bet that if you just bent forward, it would ride all the way up your rear! In fact, stand right here," Oliver pointed at the floor right beside his chair, "and bend over my knees." His expression was stern and uncompromising.

Scandalous? [Maybe in the Victorian era, sheesh. She's staring at him, her mouth formed into a little 'o' of disbelief, but that doesn't stop her from taking that step and then another and another.

She puts a hand against the edge of his desk, bending over his lap awkwardly. She still seems slightly in shock, and her breath suddenly feels loud to her ears as she darts a sidelong look at Oliver.]

[Oliver's eyebrows raise at the same time Felicity's hem does, the snug fit of her dress causing it to slide upward as she bends over, revealing more than just the tops of her stockings. He's treated to the sight of their straps, curving over her firm rear and the strip of fabric that runs down its center. Oliver puts a hand on that exposed flesh and gives it a smack.]

You see what I mean? A little movement, and you're practically naked. [His voice has turned huffy, but not just from this strange annoyance. Oliver's breath is definitely shortening. And on the other hand, while he gives Felicity a few more spanks, there's something just underneath her stomach that's lengthening.]

Oliver!

[It's less pain and more shock, the first time he spanks her. She makes this little sounds, high pitched in the back of her throat each time he strikes, but by the time he pauses, she's biting her lip, and she can't keep her thighs from rubbing together. She looks up at him over her shoulder.]

What are you going to make me do?

[She can feel the length of him pressing against her stomach, and as she thinks about it there's a quick lick of her lips.]

[Even with the strange mist of lust and the rising need to make sure Felicity understood just who was in charge around here, Oliver is still an observant person. He catches the quick flash of pink tongue against red lips.]

I think you're just going to have to deal with all the consequences of your behavior, Miss Smoak. The way you dress is exceptionally distracting for a man like myself. [He tilts his hips upwards, pressing his erection into her.

Pushing his chair back a few more inches, Oliver gestures at the plushly carpeted floor under his desk.]

Kneel down, Felicity. You're going to see about relieving my predicament-- the one you're responsible for.

[Oliver reaches down and starts to unzip his trousers.

[Felicity shifts off his lap, almost whimpering from having to move, letting her knees rest on the carpet. Her brows inch upward when she spots how hard he is, even through his trousers, but as he reaches for the zipper, he may be surprised to find her hand, with its bright teal nails, briefly cover his to stop him.]

You should let me do it.

[A satisfied, almost proud kind of smirk tugs at the corner of Oliver's mouth as Felicity's hand covers his.]

Now that's what I'm talking about, Miss Smoak. That is exemplary commitment and responsibility.

[It made perfect sense to Oliver's drug-addled head, at least. In any case, he placed his hands on the arms of his office chair and leaned back, his cock already straining against the soft wool of his pants.]

[Her eyes flick briefly up at him like she's trying to figure out if he's being sarcastic. But the hardness of his cock doesn't lie. If she ever finds out he's drugged, though? She may never forgive herself.

But that doesn't stop her now, not when she's unzipping his pants, reaching in and curving her hand around his flesh to draw him out. And at the size of him, there's a soft,]

...oh.

[She can't help herself. She leans forward, dragging her tongue from the base of his length all the way to the tip before suckling on it. Her lipstick's going to leave a smear, but damned if the idea doesn't turn her on more.]

Oh-h-h-h...

[Oliver echoes the sound, but it's not an agreement, it's a long and shaking sigh of appreciation for just what Felicity's done so far. Her hand is soft and sure as it grips his cock, and her tongue draws a hot line along its length.

But when she sucks on the tip, it just about jolts him out of his chair. Maybe all those old adages about 'the quiet ones' were right.]

That's... oh, that's good...

[It is good, she can tell by how hot he is in her mouth. But she can't stop at the tip, not when he's making those noises, and not when she knows she can give him so much better.

Her mouth slides down further, slowly swallowing him, using her tongue and lips to learn the texture, like she's making a map of it in her mind, because there are going to be nights in the future when she thinks about this and wants to be able to recall the taste and how it felt in her mouth in excrutiating detail. She can take all of him, she knows she can, sliding her head back and letting her tongue leave a trail before she sucks him in again.]

[Oliver's hands grip the chair arms tighter and tighter until his knuckles are turning white. Felicity is doing a lot more than just giving him oral, she's making love to him with her mouth, with just the kind of focus and attention to detail that make her so brilliant in every other area.

So, he supposed, he shouldn't be that surprised, but he is.] If I'd have known this was in your skill set, Miss Smoak, I'd have insisted on a demonstration ages ago.

[She lets out a soft huff of air from her nose, as close to a laugh as she can manage with her mouth full of Oliver's cock. She can swallow him so dip that her nose brushes his groin before her mouth pulls back again, and she brings her hand up to curve it around his member, jacking him slowly while she continues her oral attentions.

But she's so turned on, and she can't help it when her free hand strays beneath her skirt, fingers flicking at her own clit.]

[In between groans and approvals that are becoming more noise and less actual words, Oliver tilts his head up enough to notice Felicity's hand between her legs. The sight of it makes his cock twitch in her mouth.]

What a capital idea, Miss Smoak. Once you're good and ready, why don't you sit on my lap and we'll see about deepening this partnership?

[A part of her wants to finish him off, to feel his cum shoot down her throat. But she slides her mouth off of him, letting herself rest back on her heels as she licks her lips and looks up at him.

She's actually afraid to talk. If she opens her mouth to speak it'll ruin whatever this is. She uses the arms of his chair to help lift herself to her feet and then]

Whatever you want, Ol - Mr. Queen.

[She slides her skirt up a few inches from her thighs before she moves to straddle his lap, nudging her wetness against his cock, the delicate friction eliciting a groan from her.]

[Oliver smiles and groans a little as she teases him, rubbing the tip of him against her entrance, coating him with her juices. His hands find her thighs.]

I think we'll both be very satisfied with getting right to it, don't you think?

[He pushes her skirt up even further, exposing her completely. Oliver then finds the thin straps of her panties. Even though it's been tugged aside, that's just not enough for him right then, so with a sharp pull in both directions, the flimsy garment snaps and falls aside.]

Don't worry, Miss Smoak, the company will be happy to reimburse you for those.

[That done, he pulls her down to him until her ass presses against his thighs, his cock firmly lodged inside of her.]

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omg i am so sorry this is late :(

not a problem! totally understandable around the holiday

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