bakerstreet | ƭɦє ѕɱυƭ ƥɪƈƭυɾє ƥɾơɱƥƭ ɱєɱє

All in all, it was a really stupid, reckless, and altogether terrible idea, but Oliver had about all he could take. It was supposed to have been a dinner at a mansion that did not belong to his family to raise the funds to rebuild CNRI, and as the CEO of Queen Consolidated, Oliver had been invited to open his wallet.

Oliver knew the look and sound of bitterness and anger being both fueled and dulled by alcohol, and Laurel was making it easy for him to see the signs. Since she'd arrived two hours ago, his former girlfriend had behaved terribly in his opinion and would not apologize. And so when she excused herself, Oliver did the same a few moments later, following her into the closest restroom.

He caught her about to drink from a flask in her purse. Oliver took it from her, slammed it on the counter, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Enough, Laurel. Enough! I won't let you do this to yourself."

Tommy was dead, the vigilante still hadn't been caught, and Laurel was drowning herself in pills and drinks to try and make up for it. She knew people probably didn't want to be around her at the moment, but she didn't care; she threw herself into her work, thinking it would just make it all better somehow.

She'd been avoiding Oliver for awhile, too, because they'd slept together and Tommy had died. Well, that was the reason she told herself at least, since other times when she'd tried to approach him about them possibly getting back together he'd made it very clear that he didn't want anything to do with her.

So it shocked the hell out of her when he bothered to follow her into the bathroom and shook her. Enough training from her father meant she got free of Oliver's arms for the moment, but she was dulled by the alcohol. "And what do you care? You don't, Oliver. You don't care about me, about your friends, about Tommy," the word was bitter on her tongue. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

The words that Laurel hurled at him found their mark, every one, especially when she brought up Tommy. Oliver's guilt over their friend's death was a living, gnawing thing deep inside of his chest and had nearly driven Oliver back to the island to stay. But people here needed him and that was the best way to honor Tommy's memory-- to protect the people and city they all loved.

"Big enough to know when you should be asking for help," he snapped back. "Big enough to know that the last thing Tommy would want for you is to crawl into a bottle trying to run from the people who love you."

Temper and desperation getting the better of him, Oliver grabbed Laurel's face in his hand and crushed his mouth against hers, his body pinning her against the vanity, causing some of the things on the counter to rattle.

She was about to yell at Oliver again, to deny everything he's just thrown back at her, when he'd grabbed her and kissed her. No, kissing wasn't quite the right word for it, she realized even in her dulled senses. Her arms shoved again at Oliver as she struggled against his mouth which seemed to attack her almost as much as his words had. Laurel managed to turn her face to the side to breathe, but his body was bigger than hers and he was a great deal stronger. She was pinned and couldn't move.

"Ollie," she panted for breath, blinking a few times to get her bearings on what was happening and not realizing she'd slipped and used his nickname. "Ollie, don't, we can't, we... you know we can't. I can't."

The fact that he'd said he loved her - or had she imagined it? - made her eyes water and she was very close to crying. "Don't say things you don't mean, Ollie... let me go."

In the second that he'd given in to the impulse to kiss Laurel, to take her in his hands and demand that she admit all of the things that she was denying and all the things she still felt for him, Oliver forgot that anything else in the world existed. There was no Starling City, no Arrow, nothing but Laurel and needing her and needing her to remember how much she wanted him.

"What in the hell makes you think I don't mean it?" he growled. "I need you, Laurel, and you need me. You're not going to make it through this without me, and you damn well know it."

There was something wild and frenzied inside of him now. "You want me. You want me right now." His hand slid up between her legs, under her skirt, cupping her over her panties. "And that's exactly what you're going to get."

"No, I don't," she replied back to him because there was still Tommy, she would be betraying Tommy and then there was the pain she was feeling of everything that had happened in Starling City. She was drunk, though she didn't want to admit it, and Laurel felt Oliver move her skirt and touch her panties. She gasped and accidentally pressed back against him. He couldn't need her. She couldn't need him. This was wrong and...

"Stop, Ollie..." She loved him, he had loved her, but they couldn't be together. "Ollie, let me go, please, I... you don't love me anymore." Her panties were wet and she was leaning on the counter, facing both of their reflections in the mirror and she didn't recognize either of them.

He might as well have been standing outside of his own body, helplessly watching as desperation, grief, and lust took over him with reason and decency completely unable to do a damn thing about it. Oliver continued to rub his hand between Laurel's thighs, feeling warmth and wetness already forming against his palm. "I couldn't stop loving you if I tried," he growled, feeling himself finally falling over the edge.

Oliver pulled at Laurel's dress, lifting the skirt until it was above her stomach while at the same time, he pushed her soaked panties down to her slim thighs. Wrapping one arm around her body, he then reached down to undo his pants, letting them fall to his knees. "Better try to stay quiet," he whispered hoarsely, "wouldn't want the family walking in on us like this."

He rolled his hips, letting Laurel feel his cock-- already half-hard and growing quickly-- against her pussy.

And the combination of booze and Oliver's declaration that he loved her was enough to break Laurel. She hated feeling so fucking weak, especially considering everything the two of them had been through together. But his hands on her body were stimulating everything and it felt just like it used to, back before Sara and the island, back before Tommy died when they'd hooked up the one time. They just fit together, and she'd always thought that but couldn't admit it anymore.

"Ollie, what are you doing---?" As if she didn't know or couldn't guess by the way he was moving behind her. She gasped as she felt his cock against her and Laurel was mortified, not wanting anyone to walk in on them like this but even moreso that she was letting Oliver do this to her. If they were truly going to get back together, it shouldn't be like this, not while she was drunk and crying in his bathroom.

"Stop... Ollie," she said, although she did keep her voice down a bit as she tried not to press harder against his firm body. Useless, though. She wanted him. She loved him.

"Too late to stop," he groaned. "It was too late the day I came back to Starling City. The day I came back to you." Oliver's chin was resting on her shoulder, his breath hot against Laurel's cheek and ear as he spoke, then pressed his mouth against the spot on her neck he'd found years before, the one he could find without looking.

Lower, his cock sawed back and forth, lengthening and hardening as the shaft slid along her slit, picking up her juices until his shaft was nearly dripping with them. Briefly, he considered doing more, but he was clearly more than ready and so was Laurel. Oliver reached between them and angled himself upward. With a push, he began to enter Laurel, inch by inch.

"Oh fuck," she moaned as he entered her way too slowly because he knew her body, had always known her body, and Laurel wasn't really thinking anymore about what was right or wrong since he fit perfectly. They'd always fit perfectly, which was why it had hurt so much to learn he'd cheated on her with someone (and not just anyone, but her sister for fuck's sake).

So even though Laurel was gripping the counter tightly and pressing against Oliver, she looked at him in the mirror and used the last bit of leverage she had on him. "Can't have Sara because she's dead, so you're settling for me again?"

He glared at Laurel's reflection. For God's sake, he was standing behind her, his hips pressed tightly against her ass and his cock buried inside of her and she was still hurling barbs at him? Oliver brought his hands down hard on the counter, leaning against her back. "I am so tired of hearing you talk like that," he hissed, then stopped, an idea striking him.

One of Oliver's hands snaked its way up Laurel's body until his fingers closed over her mouth. "So I'm just going to have to show you that I mean what I say, and you're just going to have to take it."

With that, he began to move his hips, grinding them against her ass, his cock thrusting deep in her.

Laurel was about to ask him what he meant by that, but soon her mouth was covered and little moans and noises were all that escaped her lips. Oliver had her pretty much trapped and could do whatever he wanted to do with her and part of Laurel was drunk enough to want it.

Part of her wasn't, the part that still struggled a little bit, but not that much to be truthful.

Pretty soon, her body was bent and twisted into what Oliver wanted and he was fucking her, her pussy wet and taking each thrust as her eyes widened while she watched them both in the mirror and said nothing. Laurel's body was his.

Not long after he'd covered Laurel's mouth, the hungry, growling thing inside of him knew that she had given in. Yes, she was writhing a little, but whether it was a weak attempt to get free or just the result of enjoying what he was doing to her, it was hard to tell and honestly, Oliver didn't care. He was much too strong for her to get away and the look in her eyes was telling him Laurel didn't want to.

And so he gave the hunger for her free reign. Oliver's hips began to pump harder, hammering himself against Laurel's tight ass, fucking her with abandon. It was hard and fast enough that he found himself planting his feet for leverage and balance, lest they tumble to the floor. Hell, even if they had, they probably would have kept fucking anyway.

God, he felt good. It felt good. Laurel's eyes shut because she didn't want to keep looking in the fucking mirror and see the thing that wasn't quite Oliver that was fucking her, bending her, pounding into her body so hard that her hands were scrambling to hold onto something for support and ended up bracing against the counter and Oliver's hand that covered her mouth.

Tears fell down her cheeks as she felt her pussy get wetter with each thrust and she tried to tell herself that it was just because her body was familiar with Oliver's. That it had nothing to do with the stranger fucking her now, but she was drunk and lonely and angry at the world. Part of her felt like she deserved it.

From the dark corner of his brain where the real Oliver had retreated, he wondered if this could ever be enough. He didn't think he could ever forgive himself for Tommy's death, and if Laurel never did, then he understood why. And if the love between them really was that broken forever, then maybe this could be enough.

If she couldn't love him again, then maybe Oliver could just... have her? Own her? It certainly felt like he owned Laurel right then and there. Her body was his to do whatever he wanted with, and she was surrendering to it all. Oliver could tell from the moaning against his mouth and the juices that were running down from Laurel's thighs onto his.

But it wasn't quite enough. Oliver, still holding Laurel in place and with one hand over her mouth, pushed her upper body down until her cheek was nearly touching the sink, changing the angle his cock was driving into her pussy. "I want you to come," he growled.

Laurel cried against Oliver's mouth as he pushed her body down and then her sounds grew louder as she felt his cock hit her harder and deeper. He smothered most of the sounds she made, but she was getting louder and louder with each new way he manhandled her body and fucked her. She kept her eyes shut until she heard him talk and then she opened them wide, trying to shake her head "no", no she didn't want to come like this, no she couldn't possibly come like this, but it was useless.

Her body shook and her pussy tightened around her ex-boyfriend's cock as she screamed into his hand, her orgasm shaking her body (what little could be moved of course) and she hated herself in that moment almost as much as she hated Oliver.

Oliver hissed, trying to hold in the noises he wanted to make while Laurel came on him, tightening around his cock like a vise. He rode out her climax, rolling with her movements until he felt her start to slow down. He could also feel the heat of her stare on him through their reflection and knew that kind of hate personally-- because he felt it for himself, too.

Taking a step back, he pulled out of her, then turned Laurel around to face him. Oliver picked her up easily and set her on the edge of the counter, stepping again between her legs and shoving his cock back inside her. His hips pounded against her again, his eyes never leaving hers.

This was worse, because Oliver was forcing them to face each other and what they were doing, although to be fair, it was Oliver who was making her come, forcing himself on her. Laurel had said no, had tried to stop him, and it didn't matter.

"Ollie," she begged him, as if that would stop him, but he kept fucking her and she realized that she'd screamed and someone probably had heard her, but Oliver had kept so quiet... it was killing her that he could remain that controlled and she couldn't.

"If you're going to fuck me like this then at least say something, make some sort of noise, I don't fucking care at this point, please Ollie." Something so she knew he loved her, that he wasn't just using her the way he'd used her sister.

He shook his head, throwing off just a little of the strange dissociation that had taken over him. Oliver looked into Laurel's face, saw the desperation and heard her pleas. Leaning in, he managed to kiss her and still continue stroking his cock inside of her.

"Don't shut the door on me, Laurel," he rasped against her lips. "Don't give up on me. On us. We can be broken together. Hell, maybe we can end up fixed together."

And this, of course, just made her cry even more because this was what she'd wanted. Oliver was acting a little more like the guy she'd slept with (no, not the playboy she'd dated, the guy she'd wanted after the island). Her hands came up and grasped his face while he kissed her and Laurel nodded her head once while he fucked her.

"Yes," she said, because even if it wasn't love and it wasn't pure, it was very much them. "Yes, together."

That was all Oliver had needed to hear. His arms wrapped tightly around Laurel, holding her close as he kept up the quick, hard rhythm of his thrusts. Even as insane and twisted as the moment was, she felt good against him. She felt right.

Soon enough, he could feel the heat boiling up inside of him. "Oh God... Oh God, Laurel... I'm almost..."

"Yes, Ollie, yes, inside me, it's fine." She hadn't ever stopped her pills and she was too lost with lust to wonder if he was clean or not considering how many other women he'd probably slept with since they'd broken up.

She didn't care. Whatever their connection was, Laurel didn't want to lose it.

Oliver wrapped his arms around her so tightly it was as if he was afraid she would vanish before they were done. He buried his head against Laurel's neck and thrust his hips a few more times, finally hissing quietly as his orgasm hit and he burst inside of her. Driving his cock deep into Laurel, his body shook hard a few times and then began to quiet.

Her body was aching and sore, twisted and she knew she was emotionally broken but then again, so was Oliver. Maybe what they had right then wasn't what she'd hoped they were going to have and it definitely wasn't what they'd had before the island.

But Oliver had held her tightly when he came inside of her, like he didn't want to lose her, and that was enough for Laurel to hang onto him, too. She gently kissed his cheek (not his mouth, not yet, it was too personal) but maybe this could work.

Only time would tell.

ƭɦє ѕɱυƭ ƥɪƈƭυɾє ƥɾơɱƥƭ ɱєɱє

this is really wrong.

And by "wrong" you mean "so right"

Oh dear

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