Arrow fic: In The Dark (Oliver/Roy NC17 pwp smut)

[the_diggler]

Title: In The Dark {also at AO3}
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Oliver Queen x Roy Harper
Genre: pwp smut, identity porn, hero worship
Warnings/Spoilers: bottom!Roy, masturbation interruptus, fingering, cheating, hints of a dark past, set season 2
Word Count: 2960
Summary: "He knows it’s wrong. It’s not why he wanted to work with the Arrow in the first place. But he just can’t stop imagining it, their bodies pressed together, intimate and close in so many different ways… "
Author's Notes: Wanted to write this at the end of season 1, but decided to wait for a little more canon interaction, and as usual put it off for too long. But I’ve been missing Colton’s face lately, and just wanted to write some smut, and it finally clicked :) I think I’ve found a better place in season 2 to stick this, but if there’s any glaring anomalies let me know, it’s been a while since my last rewatch.
Disclaimer: nothing but the fanciful smut is mine!



~

It’s still dark by the time Roy gets home, even though he feels like he’s been prowling the Glades all night. It’d been a quiet weeknight at the club and they’d closed up a little early, but while Thea had been tired and gone straight home, Roy’d had too much excess energy to sleep. So he’d hit the streets, swinging by some of his old haunts, keeping his eyes and ears open… Just like the Arrow told him to.

Sometimes Roy still can’t believe he finally found the vigilante. Or more accurately, that the vigilante found him. That somehow, the Arrow had heard Roy was looking for him, and then actually tracked Roy down. How that happened is mind-boggling enough, but what really gets Roy is – why? Roy knows he has a lot to offer, even though the Arrow doesn’t seem to think so, so why did the vigilante even bother to single him out?

It’s just more proof that somehow, their lives are connected. Roy knows it. And he can feel that knowledge vibrating under his skin, needing to act, needing to do something.

Huffing a frustrated sigh, Roy pulls off his jacket and kicks off his shoes. He hadn’t come across anything tonight that might be of use to the Arrow. He’s glad the streets are quiet, it’s not like he actually wants bad things to happen, but he just wanted an excuse to see the man again. Taking the vigilante’s arrow out of his back pocket, he places it carefully on his bedside table before removing the rest of his clothes. He wants it to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up. A reminder, to help him get through the day. A purpose.

Down to his boxers, he collapses across his mattress, but as soon as he hits the sheets he knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to sleep right now. He’s still way too wired. If this is what it feels like to just be the Arrow’s ‘eyes and ears’, he wonders what it would feel like to actually be at the vigilante’s side, out there, all night, working together, fighting together – God he wants it so bad.

But he’d promised Thea. No more fighting. They’d had so many break-ups and make-ups over it, Roy’s lost count. He knows one day they’re going to break up for good. Thea’s just too good for him. She’s always telling him he can be better than who he is, but the thing is, how can he be better if he sits on the sidelines and does nothing? If it came down to it, Roy doesn’t think he’d be able to stand by if someone needed his help. And how many people would need help, in The Glades alone? The whole city? Roy knows he could make a difference.

And the things he could learn from the vigilante. Not for the first time, Roy wonders where the Arrow learned to fight like that, to shoot, the kind of training and strength it would’ve taken. If only the vigilante would agree to teach him. God that would be amazing. What would it be like, to have the man guide him through new moves, correcting his stances, improving the way he throws a punch or a kick… Just the two of them, one-on-one, the other man’s arms encircling him as he shows Roy how to shoot a bow and arrow… Roy groans, flopping onto his back as he feels himself stirring in his boxers. What does the man look like under that hood? Under all that leather? What kind of strength and power does that body hold?

Roy can’t help himself. He reaches down into his boxers and grips himself, pumping himself to full hardness. He knows it’s wrong. It’s not why he wanted to work with the Arrow in the first place. But he just can’t stop imagining it, their bodies pressed together, intimate and close in so many different ways… It haunts his dreams at night, the feel of the other man’s body tight against his own, what could happen next… Shucking off his boxers, Roy reaches over to yank open his bedside drawer, rummaging around for his bottle of lube. He quickly pours some onto his hands, gripping his length again with his right, spreading his legs as he reaches down with his left. At the first touch of the cool liquid against his rim he gasps, back arching as he traces it, teasing himself before he starts pushing in.

He rarely does this anymore. So when he does, it’s always so much more intense. But his body remembers what to do, opening up and relaxing until he’s ready to take two fingers. He hasn’t been fucked there in a long time, but he would let the vigilante do it. He’d gladly give it up for free if the man so much as hinted an interest. Fuck, that green leather had been tight. It hadn’t left much for the imagination. But imagine Roy does – unzipping those tight leather pants, sucking that sizable bulge into his mouth, getting it wet and sloppy and ready for his hole. Roy groans as he pushes in another finger. He’d need three before taking what he saw outlined against the Arrow’s pants. He can see it in his mind so well, remember every moment of that too brief meeting so clearly… So for a second he thinks he’s still imagining it when he sees the Arrow standing in his bedroom, right inside his open window.

“Jesus,” he yelps, hastily pulling the sheets over himself. How much did the man see? Hear? Oh God, did he moan for the Arrow out loud?

The vigilante doesn’t say anything as Roy covers himself up, remaining completely still in the low light coming from the streetlight outside his window. With a sinking in his gut, Roy realizes that if he can see the Arrow, even in that dim light, then the Arrow definitely saw him.

Roy forces himself to take deep breaths. There’s nothing he can do about it now. He can only hope the man has the decency to ignore whatever he saw or heard, and try not to hold it against him.

“What about your girlfriend?”

Or not.

“How do you know about her?” Roy shoots back, instantly on the defensive. Though he guesses he shouldn’t be surprised the Arrow knows about her if he knows where Roy works, where Roy sleeps. Christ. Roy doesn’t know if he should be flattered or scared that the vigilante knows so much about him. Probably both.

Roy heaves a resigned sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, I care about her. I really do. She helps me keep it together, every day. But what for? I know I can do more. I can give more.” Wrapping a sheet around himself, Roy stands up off the bed, approaching the vigilante. “What I feel for her is real. But this is real too. I owe her my heart, but I owe you my life.” He huffs. “You of all people should understand, how to be more than just one thing. What it’s like to need more.”

The Arrow hisses in a sharp breath at that, turning away, and Roy thinks he finally might’ve hit a mark. But as the Arrow turns, Roy finally notices the bulge straining against the profile of the man’s crotch.

“Oh wow,” Roy exhales, stunned. He can’t believe this is happening. Hadn’t he just been imagining – wishing – for the man to show some sign of interest? And this is… a pretty big sign.

Roy approaches the vigilante, carefully, easing himself into the other man’s space until he can practically feel the heat of the other man’s body. “Can I just…” Roy whispers, reaching upwards, but he can’t seem to close his hands around the other man’s arms, as if the touch might scare him away. Instead, he finds himself raising his knee, insinuating his leg between the other man’s thighs, until they’re molded together, lengths pressed between their bodies.

The vigilante still doesn’t move, but Roy’s close enough now to hear the quickness of the other man’s breath, as rapid as his own. “Please,” Roy chokes out, hands still hovering uncertainly over leather, shaking with need.

With a groan the vigilante turns, grabbing him and crushing their lips together. And as the vigilante’s tongue begins plundering his mouth, Roy groans as well, delving greedily into the other man’s mouth with his own tongue. His hands finally find leather, clawing and grasping at the man as if he could pull him any closer. But as their lips and teeth battle together, he doesn’t dare remove the man’s hood, no matter how dark it is in the room.

There’s still enough light to see where the bed is though, and soon the man begins walking Roy back towards it, barely removing his lips as they go. But when the backs of Roy’s legs hit the mattress, the man finally releases him, letting him sprawl backwards onto the sheets. The vigilante doesn’t fall with him though, standing at the edge of the bed to remove his bow and quiver, pulling off one glove with his teeth before discarding the other one as well. Roy quickly sits up, reaching out to undo the other man’s belt and unzip his fly.

“Can I?” he breathes, licking his lips as he hooks his fingers into the man’s boxers. A short, sharp nod from the other man, and Roy is pulling his pants down, uncovering an erection so hard, it slaps back up against the other man’s stomach, trailing precome across the leather there. Roy moans helplessly at the sight, before he leans forward, taking that beautiful cock in his mouth.

He almost doesn’t hear the choked off sound the other man makes at that, overwhelmed by the feel of the other man in his mouth, hot and hard and perfect. He uses every trick he knows, curling his tongue around the tip, then taking it as deep as he can go – which is deep, even after years of not having done this – and he’s rewarded with the vigilante’s hand running through his hair, gripping the strands tight as the man begins thrusting into Roy’s rhythm.

God he tastes good. Leather and musk and salt, pulsing thick and heavy against his tongue. Roy loses himself in it, trying to suck down as much of that taste as he can, swallowing and moaning around the head as he feels the slick nudge of it against the back of his throat.

All too soon, the vigilante yanks Roy’s head back, pulling him off his cock with a snarl. But Roy doesn’t even get a chance to catch his breath before the man is leaning down, shoving his tongue in Roy’s mouth again as he knees his way onto the bed. Roy follows the pull of the other man’s lips as the vigilante crawls over him, moving up across the sheets. And when they can go no further the Arrow begins moving back downwards, burying his face in Roy’s neck, sucking and laving and biting at his skin.

Roy moans, reaching up to hold the man’s head there, and his whole body shudders when he feels the rough material of the vigilante’s hood against his palm. But the man doesn’t stop at Roy’s neck, licking a trail down his chest, teasing his nipples with his tongue and teeth as he unwraps the sheet around Roy’s waist. And then the other man just sits back on his knees, looking at him. Roy can’t see the vigilante’s eyes under the shadow of the hood, but he can feel them, burning across his body, and he finds his legs parting under that gaze, hips canting upwards in invitation. The Arrow sucks in a sharp breath at that, and he finally reaches out, gently stroking the backs of his fingers down the insides of Roy’s thighs.

Roy shivers under the touch, his legs splaying open even wider. For all the forcefulness the vigilante has treated him with so far, Roy realizes then, that this man also knows how to be a lover. The thought makes him whimper, desperate for more. And when the man goes lower, tracing the pads of his fingers around Roy’s lube-slick entrance, Roy finds his hips thrusting helplessly on the sheets. Each circle the man makes grows smaller and smaller, closing in on his hole, until finally Roy can feel the man’s fingers, teasing his rim.

“Please,” he mewls shamelessly, and the man finally gives him what he wants, carefully pushing two fingers in. Roy’s already so loose, he takes them easily, and the vigilante lets out a low groan as Roy begins squirming and squeezing around them. “More,” he gasps, and the vigilante obliges, pushing in a third finger, a fourth, so easy, thrusting them in and out until Roy is groaning and writhing on the sheets.

“Roll over,” the vigilante rasps, pulling his fingers out, and Roy nods, hastily complying. He hears the vigilante rummaging around in his drawer, before he hears the familiar sound of a condom wrapper, the snap of his bottle of lube. Soon he feels the spongy head of the vigilante’s cock, pressing against his hole.

Roy keens as the vigilante begins to press in, oh so very slowly. Even though his hole’s already been stretched, wide open, the man is so big. And feels so good. It seems like forever before the man is finally balls deep, and when he begins thrusting, Roy soon finds himself gasping, clawing desperately at the sheets. The man fucks like he fights, with complete mastery of his body, as well as his opponents’ – in this case, Roy. With the amount of lube they’ve used, Roy’s partners usually slip out of him every now and then. But not the Arrow. He’s just so big. And his aim is – as always – deadly accurate, finding that spot inside and hitting it just right, on every stroke.

It isn’t long before Roy is a shaking mess, and the only thing keeping him from collapsing on the sheets is the vigilante, hooking a strong, leather-clad arm underneath him and holding him up on his trembling knees. There’s leather everywhere, pressed hot against his back and thighs, as they move together, so close in the dark. Close enough, that Roy can feel the vigilante’s heavy breaths in his ear, the man’s face pressed against the back of his neck, hood pulled back… If Roy turned his head now, just slightly, maybe he could see the vigilante’s face, make out the man’s features in the dim streetlight from his window.

But there’s a trust the vigilante is giving him now, that Roy’s not going to break. And even if he tried, he knows that the vigilante would be too quick for him – even now – that the vigilante would pull away. And that’s the last thing Roy wants. What Roy wants, is to pull the man even closer, deeper. So deep, the man will never be able leave. Because deep inside, Roy thinks they’re the same. He doesn’t even who the man is, but he thinks he understands what drives him to do the things he does. And they both need this. This closeness, this acceptance, this release.

He’s never felt so intimate with someone before. It’s overwhelming. Intense in a way he never knew it could be. And better than anything he’s ever imagined. Not even in his wildest dreams, waking up come-sticky and keening. Roy doesn’t last much longer before he’s crying out, painting himself all over the sheets, dick untouched. And as he clenches and spasms, milking the vigilante’s cock, Roy feels it pulsing deep inside his body, the man following him into climax with a soft, tight grunt his ear.

“Jesus,” Roy huffs as they collapse on the bed together, his body still trembling with aftershocks.

The vigilante doesn’t say anything, breathing heavy against his back for long moments afterwards, and then the man carefully pulls himself out, easing off the bed.

Roy gathers his strength as he hears the man pick up his bow and quiver off the floor, turning just in time to see the man heading for the window.

“When will I see you again?” he asks, still breathless.

The man stops at that, but he doesn’t answer, heaving a deep sigh before he’s heading for the window again, disappearing back into the night.

Roy flops back down on his bed, burying his face in his pillow. He can’t believe what just happened. But he’s completely spent, too exhausted to process it, and before long he’s sleeping deeper than he has months.

When Roy wakes in the morning, he feels stretched and sore, his skin still slightly greasy from the lube in between his legs and on his fingers. But he can’t find any leftover condom wrappers, or any other evidence that the vigilante was there at all.

Roy looks at the arrow on his bedside table, and wonders if maybe, it was all just another dream.

~ fin

Just a oneshot! No plans to continue. But I do have a couple more Roliver ideas I hope to write sometime :)