Okay, I know I promised not to post anything until after the help_superrobyn auction, but I’ve missed my two gorgeous blondes, and I’ve missed you all, and I’ve felt so guilty having this ready and waiting for a week that I decided to share it with y’all. And I can finally cross another WIP off my list, YAY!!! :-D
Enjoy. Rated NC-17, so no minors, thanks.
And thank you for taking this journey with me!
Title: Beauty in the Breakdown V – Feeling Good
Warnings: An expansion of Chlollie post-Warrior
Timeline: Season 9
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe’s confidence begins to soar as her relationship with Oliver goes public.
Feedback: …bring it, bebe. :-)
Stars when you shine, you know how I feel
Scent of the pine, you know how I feel
Oh, freedom is mine
And you know how I feel…
- Feeling Good, by Muse
Chloe gasped as Oliver made intimate contact with her, pressing into her slightly.
“Oliver this is crazy!” she exclaimed, her body thrumming in excitement.
Oliver grinned, his teeth glinting in the muted light. “I know, right?”
“We can’t do this here, somebody could come!”
He chuckled. “I certainly hope so.”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You know what I mean. We could get caught!”
“And that’s the excitement of this, isn’t it?” he whispered, nudging his broad tip against her slick flesh insistently. “Be honest, bella; the risk-slash-potential danger we’re courting is turning you on more than usual, no?”
“Fine, I admit it,” she said grudgingly. “But it’s only fun if we don’t get caught, and at this rate? We’re gonna get caught.”
He grinned and tightened his hands on her hips. “Not if we’re quick, we won’t.”
Chloe held her breath and clutched his shoulders as he sheathed himself within her welcoming flesh.
“Hey, you established this very afternoon that you’re completely incapable of doing this quickly!” she pointed out as he moved with slow, deep thrusts.
“Well, how am I going to develop my Squickie prowess if we don’t practice?” he argued.
“It’s Slickie,” she corrected.
He frowned. “I thought you weren’t into naming our not-so-speedy trysts.”
He sighed. “Fine. What’s your point?”
“My point is, we can just as easily practice this at home!”
He raised an incredulous brow. “So what are you saying, we should just stop right now?”
“What are you, crazy?” she said, scandalised. “We can’t stop now!”
Oliver gave a frustrated sigh and threw his hands in the air. “Right. First I’m crazy for wanting to do this, now I’m crazy for suggesting we stop?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but the door swung open and two people came in, one of whom was talking angrily.
“…never been more humiliated in my entire life!” said a shrill woman’s voice.
“It wasn’t what it looked like, Jodie…” came a man’s tired reply.
“Don’t give me that shit, I saw you with my own eyes!” she seethed, moving coats along the racks with a furious hand. The hangers clanged against each other with a harsh tinkle, and the ominous sound got closer and closer to where Chloe and Oliver were cautiously hidden.
“We were just talking…” he lamely explained as he rummaged through the coats, getting perilously close to their corner.
“Oh, sure,” she said sarcastically, riffling through the coats with increasing speed. “Talking with your tongue halfway down her throat. Who are you trying to kid here, Roger?”
“She was drunk, she came onto me!” he insisted. “I’m telling you, I was as startled as you were-”
The man’s hand appeared at the top of the railing, and to Chloe’s utter horror, he yanked away the thick coat that was giving them the most cover, leaving them completely exposed. She froze and ducked her head behind Oliver’s; not that it would do much to preserve their modesty, considering her legs were wrapped around his bare hips, and his trousers were down around his ankles.
Fortunately Roger didn’t even glance in their direction. He stood with his back to them and held out his wife’s coat for her to angrily thrust her arms into.
“…That’s your excuse for everything, isn’t it?” she said snidely. “‘…I didn’t start it, she came onto meeee!’ Well, you certainly had no problem finishing it, did you?”
Chloe was torn between getting the full gist of the argument and wanting them to just get the hell out so that she and Oliver could get back to their business. Luckily for them, the quarrelling couple decided to take their argument on the road. Jodie stormed out of the cloakroom as soon as was done buttoning her coat, and her harried husband ambled out after her.
Chloe let out a huge sigh of relief and reached over Ollie’s shoulder to rearrange the remaining coats to give them the utmost cover.
“Well, I certainly hope they can sort that out,” Oliver murmured.
“Er…do you mind sorting this out?” she asked, glancing pointedly at where they were intimately joined. “I don’t mean to rush you, but we are kind of on a timetable here.”
“No problem,” he grinned, and held her hips firmly as he resumed thrusting.
Chloe sighed and hooked her ankles around his waist, taking him deep. Oliver groaned and wrapped his arms tightly around her.
“You okay, bella?” he whispered as he moved.
She nodded. “Mmm…this is amazing.”
“Now, why would you want us to hurry this up, hmm?” he queried, shifting a hand to cup her breast.
Her sigh of pleasure morphed into a frustrated huff. “Oliver Jonas Queen, are you trying to make a point whilst having sex with me in a coat cupboard?” she hissed.
“All I’m saying is if we don’t have to hurry it up, we can afford to take our time.”
“Take our time?” she repeated incredulously. “We’re in a coat cupboard!”
“Well, we haven’t been caught yet…”
Chloe closed her eyes and groaned loudly. “Are you trying to jinx this?!”
As if to validate her point, the door to the room opened and admitted what sounded – and smelled – like a very intoxicated woman. The cloakroom attendant must have thought so, because she accompanied the inebriated female into the room.
“…if you’d just let me have the number on your ticket, I can find your coat for you, ma’am,” they heard her say with barely veiled irritation.
“Told youuu…s’in my pocket,” the inebriated woman slurred. Chloe peered through a tiny crack in the coats to see the unsteady woman patting her hips in bewilderment. “Where’s my pocket?”
“You’re wearing a cocktail dress, ma’am.” The attendant said stiffly. “You have no pockets.”
“I don’t have a pocket?” she wailed, sounding close to tears. “Oh, my God! Someone’s stolen my pocket!”
Chloe and Oliver exchanged a look and barely managed to refrain from laughing out loud.
“Have you tried looking in your purse?” the attendant said in clipped tones.
There was the sound of frantic rummaging before a triumphant “A-ha! Found it! Right, the number is…” there was a brief, drunken pause. “Huh. It’s not in English.”
“It’s upside-down,” the attendant said curtly.
“Oh! Sorreeee, I’ll turn it around…heeeeere we go! Number…496.”
Chloe and Oliver stared at each other in horror as sharp footsteps headed in their direction. They just happened to be hidden behind the row of coats numbered 491-500 – specifically behind a coat with the dreaded number 496 on the tag. Automatically her body tensed and her intimate flesh clenched around him. Oliver opened his mouth to groan before Chloe covered it with her hand, flashing him a stern warning glare.
He didn’t take the hint, choosing rather to trail his tongue up the inside of her palm. Her eyes widened as sparks tingled all the way down her arm, and her lips fell open in a silent gasp.
This time it was Ollie who placed his fingers over her lips to keep her quiet. She retaliated by sucking his finger into her mouth and curling her tongue around the tip.
His eyelids drifted shut, and she felt him harden and swell within her. Frissons of pleasure travelled up her spine and she shook with the effort it was taking her to stay quiet. Oliver was right; danger was definitely a huge turn-on for both of them.
The footsteps came to a halt just behind the sanctuary of coats, and Chloe grimaced and squinted in horror as the attendant’s hand appeared over the bar and riffled the coats as she worked her way towards 496 – and then closed around the hanger of the coat right in front of them.
“Is this your coat, ma’am?” the attendant asked.
Oh, shit. Chloe cringed as the coat was lifted off the hanger and slowly lowered…
“Oh no – it’s 469, 469,” corrected the giggling drunk. “Sorry, my bad. I read it backwards.”
Chloe heard the attendant mutter something under her breath about the woman’s brain being backwards as she put 496 back on the rack. Her footsteps retreated to another side of the room entirely and before long the correct coat had retrieved.
“Is this your coat, ma’am?” she said stiffly.
“Yes! Yes it is, thank you,” came the delighted reply. “Can you help me put it on?”
After some brief rustling and then the drunk guest spoke again.
“You’re very, verrrrrry sweet,” she said soberly. “Thank you, thank you verrrry much. Now, there’s one little thing you can do for me…”
“And what would that be?” came the clipped reply.
“Do you know where the toilets are? I think I’m gonna throw up.”
There was a flurry of sound as the attendant hurried the woman out of the room before she could up-chuck on the expensive coats. As soon as the door was closed, Chloe grabbed Oliver’s head in her hands and stared at him hard.
“I never thought I’d ever say these words to you,” she grated, “but make it quick.”
He nodded seriously. “Yes, ma’am.”
There was no more teasing. Oliver pounded into her hard and fast, driving sensation along her nerves and rendering her breathless. His mouth sought hers and he kissed her deeply, his tongue plunging into her mouth and plundering its depths. Chloe moaned and clung to him as her pleasure spiralled higher and higher and then broke out in an intense orgasm that saturated every cell in her body.
She lifted her head away from his and cried out as waves of concentrated pleasure pulsed through her in never-ending spasms. Oliver covered her mouth with his, muffling both her screams and his groans as he shuddered and emptied himself inside her. His arms went around her and he held her tight until the tension in both their limbs began to ease.
After long moments he lifted his head and smiled at her.
“How’s that for quickie?” he whispered, brushing her hair off her forehead.
She frowned. “I though we’d decided on Slickie?”
“Semantics,” he chuckled, and carefully disengaged from her. Quickly he fished a handkerchief from his breast-pocket and handed it to her, which she used to carefully dry herself before putting her panties back on.
“Ready to go?” he asked as he righted his own clothing.
“Almost. Where’s my bra?”
“Right here, but you can’t put that back on, I’m afraid.”
“What?” she gasped. “Why not?”
“I kissed you through the lace, remember? It’ll leave a damp patch on your dress.”
“You sure you didn’t do that already?” she asked, checking to see if there was a stain on the seat of her gown.
“He chuckled and smoothed the skirt of her dress down as best he could. “Nah, I was careful. Sorry about the creases though, I had to hitch it pretty high.”
“Small price to pay,” she replied, blushing and pulled the straps of her dress back into place. “Okay, I’m ready. Braless, but ready.”
“Good look for you,” he grinned. “Oh wait -” quickly he pulled her to him for a swift, hard kiss, so potent and demanding that one wouldn’t have thought he’d just been thoroughly satisfied only minutes ago.
“Okay, now you’re ready,” he said huskily as he brushed his nose gently against hers and took her hand.
Carefully they tip-toed to the exit and peered round the edge of the door, relieved to see that the cloakroom attendant was nowhere in sight; most likely still tending to the tipsy woman in the bathroom. Quickly they retrieved their coat tickets and re-joined the gala with schooled expressions of seriousness on their faces.
“Time to mingle again,” he said, squeezing her waist and kissing her on the cheek. “Try not to look too much like a woman who’s been thoroughly tupped, will you?”
She grinned up at him. “I’ll do my best.”
Strangely enough, it was Oliver who spent the rest of the evening with a huge Cheshire cat grin on his face. Every time he glanced over at Chloe and spotted her laughing gaily or nodding thoughtfully at some patron’s monologue he could think of nothing else but the risky tryst they’d indulged in. And despite her best efforts to look all prim and proper, her rumpled dress and tousled hair told an entirely different story – one that hadn’t gone unnoticed by evil Elise and her crew. They were still staring at Chloe and talking behind their hands, but they definitely weren’t trading insults this time. The expression of envious rage on Elise’s face whenever she glanced at Chloe made Oliver inwardly gloat all the more.
Ha, he thought smugly. That’ll teach you to make catty remarks about my woman, bitch.
He pulled out his cellphone and sent Chloe a message, marked urgent. Thinking it surely must be League business this time, she checked her cell. Oliver chuckled as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she read the words:
Fix the sex hair, honey.
Automatically Chloe’s hand flew to her hair, which her fingers informed her felt more like a bedhead than the sleek do she’d walked into the building with. Inwardly she cringed, hoping that no-one had noticed.
Fat chance, she thought. No wonder she’d been getting a lot of smug grins since emerging from the cloakroom; they must’ve taken one look at her and known what she’d spent the better part of the last hour doing. Add that to the murderous looks Elise had been giving her, and she knew her cover was definitely blown. Oliver had loved her so thoroughly she might as well be wearing blinking neon sign which read I JUST HAD SEX WITH THIS MAN!!!
Oliver must have read her mind, because her phone buzzed again, just as she was discreetly finger combing her hair.
On second thought: don’t. ;-)
Grinning, she dropped her hand to her side and caught his eye across the room. Oliver gave her a warm smile and lifted his glass to her in silent salute, which she acknowledged with a slight nod and a warm heart.
She loved her life. And the fun was only just getting started.
…It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
….And I'm feeling good.
Coming Soon: Beauty in the Breakdown VI – Sacred Words