Surrender: Chloe/Oliver Oneshot NC-17
Title: Surrender
Status: Complete
Pairing: Chloe/Oliver
Author: Genevieve
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sexual Content, spoilers up to "Escape"
Summary: Oliver loves when Chloe relinquishes control.
A/N: I'm a bit rusty, but here's a oneshot I wrote tonight, partly in protest to comic mythos! LOL
Surrender
He loves watching her come undone. Savors it. It’s one of those moments where she relinquishes complete control. Her surrender is his small, unspoken victory. He touches her in exactly the right way, because he knows her body so well, knows every scar, every birthmark and freckle. And because she doesn’t often lose control, he watches her, amazed. It fuels his own fire, makes his victory sweeter.
Her lids close over, her breathing labored. She gasps as he plunges himself into her, hard. Harder.
“Look at me,” he whispers, panting, knowing she’s on the brink. “Look at me, Chloe.”
Because he wants her to know this more than anything. He wants her to see the man she’s surrendering to; the man making love to her. And when she opens her eyes, half-lidded, now vibrant green, clouded over with lust for him, and cries out and utters his name in the same breath, he knows without a doubt. There’s no other man. For this moment, at least, she belongs to him. It’s when no strings and no ribbons and no rules about boundaries exist. It’s enough for him. Enough to cause him to spill himself, bucking uncontrollably now, wrapped in her delicious heat. He’ll take what she gives him, gladly. For now.
He stills himself above her, both of them desperately sucking in air. Her small hands soothing his heated skin, fingertips caressing the muscles of his back. He doesn’t want to leave her body. Not yet. She’s still spasming around him. Tiny tremors, clenching along his length, like aftershocks.
He smoothes the golden curls back from her face, and lowers his head, breaths mingling before pressing soft kisses to her lips, her cheek, her throat. She smiles lazily, never realizing just how much her surrender means to him.
When he can no longer remain a part of her, he withdraws. And before she can say anything, he’s rolling and pulling her against his body, settling her there. She purrs like a woman well-loved and sighs his name sleepily as she snuggles her curves, warm and soft against him.
Right now, she’s still his, he thinks; as he strokes her hair and her fingertips make lazy patterns over his chest, her foot rubbing up and down his shin. He’ll hold her until she falls asleep.
He loves watching her sleep, especially when she’s half on top of him, her arm thrown over him. It’s the only other time her guard is down. When she unconsciously lets him in. It’s when no strings and no ribbons and no rules about boundaries exist.
In the morning, she’ll remember. She’ll remember that there are no strings, no ribbons. She’ll remember that she’s calling the shots, that she’s the one in control. But for these moments, they’re bound, and he knows something he hopes she’ll soon learn. Chloe Sullivan belongs with Oliver Queen.
Status: Complete
Pairing: Chloe/Oliver
Author: Genevieve
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Sexual Content, spoilers up to "Escape"
Summary: Oliver loves when Chloe relinquishes control.
A/N: I'm a bit rusty, but here's a oneshot I wrote tonight, partly in protest to comic mythos! LOL
Surrender
He loves watching her come undone. Savors it. It’s one of those moments where she relinquishes complete control. Her surrender is his small, unspoken victory. He touches her in exactly the right way, because he knows her body so well, knows every scar, every birthmark and freckle. And because she doesn’t often lose control, he watches her, amazed. It fuels his own fire, makes his victory sweeter.
Her lids close over, her breathing labored. She gasps as he plunges himself into her, hard. Harder.
“Look at me,” he whispers, panting, knowing she’s on the brink. “Look at me, Chloe.”
Because he wants her to know this more than anything. He wants her to see the man she’s surrendering to; the man making love to her. And when she opens her eyes, half-lidded, now vibrant green, clouded over with lust for him, and cries out and utters his name in the same breath, he knows without a doubt. There’s no other man. For this moment, at least, she belongs to him. It’s when no strings and no ribbons and no rules about boundaries exist. It’s enough for him. Enough to cause him to spill himself, bucking uncontrollably now, wrapped in her delicious heat. He’ll take what she gives him, gladly. For now.
He stills himself above her, both of them desperately sucking in air. Her small hands soothing his heated skin, fingertips caressing the muscles of his back. He doesn’t want to leave her body. Not yet. She’s still spasming around him. Tiny tremors, clenching along his length, like aftershocks.
He smoothes the golden curls back from her face, and lowers his head, breaths mingling before pressing soft kisses to her lips, her cheek, her throat. She smiles lazily, never realizing just how much her surrender means to him.
When he can no longer remain a part of her, he withdraws. And before she can say anything, he’s rolling and pulling her against his body, settling her there. She purrs like a woman well-loved and sighs his name sleepily as she snuggles her curves, warm and soft against him.
Right now, she’s still his, he thinks; as he strokes her hair and her fingertips make lazy patterns over his chest, her foot rubbing up and down his shin. He’ll hold her until she falls asleep.
He loves watching her sleep, especially when she’s half on top of him, her arm thrown over him. It’s the only other time her guard is down. When she unconsciously lets him in. It’s when no strings and no ribbons and no rules about boundaries exist.
In the morning, she’ll remember. She’ll remember that there are no strings, no ribbons. She’ll remember that she’s calling the shots, that she’s the one in control. But for these moments, they’re bound, and he knows something he hopes she’ll soon learn. Chloe Sullivan belongs with Oliver Queen.