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In any other universe, Felicity Smoak would not mind being confined to her apartment in a strict coronavirus lockdown for six weeks with her boyfriend, Oliver Queen.
Starling City’s quarantine rules are a lot sterner than other cities and states, declaring that they aren’t allowed to exit their homes at all, except for one weekly grocery shop. That’s fine - Felicity has a pretty large fridge and freezer so she can stock up on all the food she and Oliver need, so they aren’t going to starve. Felicity also has the ability to work from home relatively easily and has a decent amount of savings in the bank, so she’s secure financially. She can entertain herself watching Netflix and Disney+, and with Oliver quarantining alongside her, the two of them can spend some quality time together as partners, without any distractions. The crime rate has dropped to a new low, so the Hood isn’t needed. These three weeks have the potential to actually be rather relaxing for the two of them.
In this universe, however, being locked down with Oliver for over a month is a problem. Because he happens to be a vampire.
Felicity has been his live donor since they first met, and they built their friendship - and are now building their romantic relationship - off the base of the intimacy that Felicity offering Oliver her blood results in. It started out as a blood bond: a simple, basic, instinct-based drive for him to protect her as his donor. Now, though, it’s blossomed into love. There is, of course, still a reliance on blood. Oliver usually draws from Felicity’s neck or thigh twice a week, and those other days, they utilize blood donations from butchers around the Glades and also bags that they steal from Starling General’s blood bank.
Being in a lockdown, however, creates an issue, because they no longer have donations or blood bags coming in to provide for Oliver on the days where he doesn’t feed from Felicity. Diggle tried during the first couple of days to deliver blood bags from their stash in the Foundry, but with the police patrolling the streets, they determined it’s far too risky. Without his thirst being sated, the vampire is growing weaker, losing muscle mass and becoming shaky and pale. What’s even more frightening is that his normally stead-fast control over his thirst for blood is waning. He growls at Felicity in warning when she gets too close or tries to touch him affectionately, his eyes flashing with something dark and otherworldly; he has to hastily exit the room whenever Felicity accidentally flashes too much skin at him.
Oliver’s thirst has always been tied to his physical attraction to her. Feeding is a sensual activity for them both. Oliver has told her before that her blood tastes like rich chocolate and cherries because of her adrenaline, which essentially functions as an aphrodisiac for him. When it comes to Felicity, her brain is always flooded with serotonin, dopamine, and oxytocin in response to the mild venom in Oliver’s saliva - and those all happy hormones that are released during sex. The ecstasy of feeding is chased by arousal, and it isn’t unusual for them both to experience some sexual stimulation.
It’s too dangerous for Oliver to feed from Felicity more frequently than twice a week, because her body needs time to recover and replenish the blood she’s lost, as the archer takes between one and two pints from her each time. So as he’s barely consuming anything, Oliver is, much to Felicity’s horror and fear, slowly starving.
“Please, please, just feed from me every day,” she pleads with him, when he sways unsteadily on their way to bed one night, at the end of their first quarantine week. “You can draw less, half a pint instead of two, each time. It’ll be enough to keep you on your feet.”
Oliver slumps onto the mattress, burying his head into his pillow. “It’s too dangerous for you,” he mutters, his voice muffled.
“Bullshit!” she protests.
“Half a pint of blood loss a day could have lasting effects on your health, Felicity. It could drastically weaken your immune system which in the middle of a global pandemic such as this one, could kill you.”
“I love you, and I want to respect your boundaries, but this is scaring me,” Felicity whispers. She strokes her hand over his bare shoulder blades, tearing up when he tenses. “You’re a vampire, Oliver, and you need blood. You can’t deny that. You can’t deny your body of that.”
He doesn’t reply, narrowing his eyes at her.
Felicity’s nerves take over and she begins to babble. “Look, okay, I've read the fanfiction about this and I know this can go three ways. The first possibility is that you absolutely refuse to feed on me and end up nearly dying, and it will be heartbreaking and I will cry. The second is that you feed on me, you're careful, and you take what you need, seal the wound, and that's all that happens.” She pauses but then plows on, confidence growing, “The third option: you feed on me, we both get hopelessly aroused and we fuck it out on the kitchen table. Well, I guess that last one can deviate into us either regretting it or loving it later, so there are four ways this could go. Frankly, I'm sort of aiming for the third with the ‘loving it’ ending. We have fantastic sex. But at this point, I’m happy to go with any of the options except number 1.”
Sliding his hand into hers, the archer squeezes it gently. His eyes are hard but his tone is soft as he replies, “Felicity. I love you too. I would rather we go for option 2 or 3 as well. But with everything that’s going on in the world, I refuse to compromise your health any more. I already am, even by feeding on you on our current schedule.”
Annoyed, she opens her mouth to argue, but Oliver sighs.
“Please, love, I don’t want to fight about this.”
Felicity reluctantly nods and lets him be.
They’re two weeks into the lockdown, and Oliver hasn’t fed for three days, when he collapses. He just full-on passes out in front of Felicity as he brings her a bowl of M&Ms during their marathon of The Crown.
Shit.
Felicity immediately leaps off the couch and darts to his side, heart pounding in her chest from concern. She rolls Oliver over from his neck onto his side into the recovery position. Unconscious, he doesn’t even twitch. Debating whether or not she should call Diggle over since this is sort of an emergency, Felicity checks her boyfriend’s pulse, wincing when she discovers that it’s fast and thready. Oliver’s pulse is typically within the 20-30 beats per minute range because of his vampire nature, but instead, she reckons that his heart rate is up to 80-90.
When Felicity spots that he’s as white as a sheet and his fangs are poking out from behind his upper lip, she huffs stubbornly and yanks off her hoodie; lunging to grab the penknife she keeps taped underneath the bottom of the coffee table, she half-hazardly sterilizes it with the anti-bacterial wipes on the counter. Holding her breath, Felicity prepares to slash open her wrist delicately to bring blood forth. She’s determined to force-feed him if she has to.
She’s just pressed the knife tip to her wrist, breaking the skin so the tiniest bead of blood forms on the blade, when Oliver’s arm shakily raises so he can grasp her elbow, pulling her dominant hand down so she’s halted in making the cut. Felicity’s eyes flash down and she whimpers when she sees Oliver stirring, peering up at her blearily.
“No,” he protests, in a barely audible whisper. “Felicity…”
“You are going to die if I don’t give you blood!” she snaps. Hysterical anxiety is rising to the surface, swelling and bubbling within her and writhing to get free. “Let me feed you, Oliver!”
Oliver shakes his head, his every breath labored and causing his chest to shudder. It only makes Felicity more agitated. “No, not like this. Help… help me to the couch, please. Your wrist is too small for me to feed from. My saliva won’t be able to heal any damaged vessels there properly. I’ll… I’ll feed, but from your neck.”
Relieved that Oliver is actually willing to feed, Felicity heaves him to his feet, struggling beneath his dead weight. Thankfully, once the archer is able to get his legs beneath him, he’s able to partially bear his own weight and stumbles with her aid over to the couch. He sinks down into the cushions, tipping his head back in sheer exhaustion. Felicity’s heart clenches; Oliver is so weak that the most he can really do is lift his head. Hopefully, he’ll actually be strong enough to bite her.
Felicity strips out of the skinny jeans she’s wearing so she can straddle his lap comfortably. Neither of them are thinking about sex at this point - they’re focused sorely on keeping Oliver alive. His hands settle on her hips to keep her stable and the vampire huffs out a shallow breath when Felicity tilts her head to the left invitingly. This action bares her throat and exposes her neck to him. By his stuttered exhalation, Felicity knows that he’s staring directly down at the two fingernail-sized scars there, that show where his fangs have broken her skin before.
When Oliver hesitates, Felicity uses her right hand to cradle the back of his head and encourage him to lower his mouth to her pulse point. She knows from experience that being able to sense the rush of blood through her arteries there will stimulate him to bite.
“Bite me, Oliver,” she growls. Getting dominant with the vampire riles him up as he instinctively wants to make her submit to him, and that urges him to bite and feed as well. “Do it. Now.”
He snarls back at her, his lips pressing against her skin and mouthing there, tasting the pheromones he’s left on her from the last time he fed. Seconds later, and even though Felicity knows it’s coming it’s a shock for her, his fangs pierce down and he latches on. Instantly, Felicity’s entire body turns to jelly as her serotonin, dopamine, and oxytocin production kick into overdrive. She slumps against his chest, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder with a helpless moan.
Heat tears through her, streaming through her veins and making her instinctively tighten her legs around his waist, grinding up against him. As Oliver pulls blood from his bite, the suction triggers an even deeper, carnal desire to erupt in Felicity’s abdomen. The vampire must be able to smell it or even taste it in her blood, because he rumbles and draws more forcefully.
“Keep going,” she says, her voice slurred. She sounds drunk and honestly feels it as well.
She doesn’t know how long he feeds for. She can feel herself becoming more lethargic and tired as she loses her blood, her life force flowing into Oliver, but she doesn’t care. All Felicity knows is that every nerve ending in her body is on fire and she wants his hands, which are brushing up and down her sides restlessly, to sink between her thighs because she is very, very excited right now. She’s excited to the point where she’s rubbing herself on him as much as possible to try and get some relief, her underwear and his clothes extremely inconvenient barriers.
Oliver is equally aroused, and the evidence of that pokes into her stomach. If Felicity weren’t concentrating so much on curling her fingers into her boyfriend’s shirt so she can arch her neck up more into his mouth, she would be trying to fumble with the zip on his pants so she can push her underwear aside and sink down on him.
Finally, the vampire slows down his feeding, to the point where he’s passively lapping up the blood that pulses from the wound he caused. He sucks on it lightly, and Felicity chews her lip because she knows he’s coaxing the coagulation factors in her blood to start working using his post-feeding saliva, which from samples she knows has healing properties. While his mouth remains closed over her wound, Oliver’s dominant hand slips down her side to peel her underwear aside. Felicity hugs him tightly and chokes out another moan as his fingers caress her sex before dipping inside, stretching her gently.
“Oliver,” she mewls. “More, please!”
“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you,” Oliver murmurs into her skin.
He pumps his fingers in and out of her folds slowly, dragging them against her walls in a way that makes her toes curl. When he crooks them so he can rub against her G-spot, she almost passed out from the onslaught of pleasure. It’s embarrassing how rapidly Felicity approaches her orgasm. It crashes down on her suddenly after a gradual build-up and makes her tremble on his hand and lap. She cries out his name like a prayer as she comes, which makes him growl triumphantly.
“Option 3,” he tells her, sounding entirely too smug. He withdraws his fingers from her core and licks them. The sight makes Felicity blush, and he smiles widely at the crimson in her cheeks.
Sated but aware that he is not, Felicity bats his hands away. She deftly undoes the fly of his pants and tries to yank them down. In the end, Oliver has to lift his hips so he can slide them and his underwear down until they’re hanging off his ankles. Felicity bounces impatiently on his lap so his ass lands on the couch cushions before he can fully kick his trousers off. His t-shirt and her own are shed, and Felicity undoes her bra to fling it aside without a second thought. Oliver watches all of her movements hungrily, making Felicity feel like she’s putting on a show for him. Well, she’s happy to entertain.
Using her own release on her fingers, she takes a hold of his dick and strokes him to full hardness. Oliver’s eyes are almost black with his desire; his body is thrumming with energy now he’d fed and back to full strength. She can tell that he’s dying to take control. She refuses to let him, though, and once his cock is lubed up enough, she tilts her hips, positions him and takes him down to the hilt with a wet gasp.
Once he’s seated within her fully, that ache in her abdomen fades and she feels wonderfully full. Felicity is content to sit like this for a moment, Oliver’s dick rock hard inside her and stretching her deliciously, as she pants into his collarbone. It doesn’t seem that the vampire minds either, because after he rips her underwear apart and off her with supernatural strength, he wraps his arms around her, one hand settling in the small of her back. The other wanders over her bare skin, exploring the dips and grooves of her body.
Their eyes meet. Oliver bends down to kiss her gently, nipping at her bottom lip and purring. Felicity kisses him back, overwhelmed by the tenderness of the moment. The coppery tang of blood on her tongue makes her shudder; the vampire still has the taste of her in his mouth as they make love, and it should disgust her to taste her own blood, but instead, it invigorates her, to be certain that it’s her giving him life, and not anybody or anything else. He lives because of her and for her, and that’s the most remarkable thing.
“You’re so big inside me,” she murmurs against his lips.
“Are you going to move?” he whispers.
She raises an eyebrow and shifts her hips, so he slides a little out of her.
Oliver’s eyes darken once more and he growls. “Don’t tease me. I should flip you over and fuck you senseless.”
“But you won’t,” she replies sweetly. “Because I did technically just save your life. You owe me, and I like being on top.” She leans in so her lips brush his ear. “I think my boyfriend secretly likes it as well.”
Oliver runs his eyes up and down her ravenously. His hands slide from her back to her hips again, before he raises his right so he can glance his calloused thumb over her pebbled nipples. Felicity swallows; he knows how to make her body sing perfectly, all of her erogenous zones, and every spot that makes her wobble at the knees and desperate for him.
“Ride me,” he orders, his voice rough. “Now, or I turn you over and fuck you from behind so hard that we break the couch.”
“Yes, sir,” she smirks.
That just makes him snarl possessively again. Felicity does as Oliver commands and begins rising and falling on his dick slowly, shivering at how amazing it feels. She’s pretty certain that the couch cushions are going to be stained because of how much she’s leaking. The archer allows her to pace herself for the first couple of minutes, sitting back and observing her as she braces herself on his stomach and grinds down, taking him repeatedly from tip to balls. Eventually, however, his patience runs thin, just as Felicity expected. With a feral rumble, Oliver grabs her waist in his hands firmly and starts guiding her in faster movements, trying to bring them both to release.
When she clenches her muscles, he yells out. “You’re dangerous,” he says, sounding wrecked. “God, you’re killing me, Felicity.”
“If anybody here is dangerous, it’s you,” she responds breathlessly, squeezing his cock with her core again and laughing when he throws his head back with another growl. “You’re the apex predator. You just fed on me.”
“You told me to.”
“Oh, taking my orders now?” she grins down at him. “Guess we truly do know who the alpha of our little pack is.”
“Yes, we do.”
He strums his thumb against her clit. Felicity hunches down onto him, trembling with need. Oliver keeps thrusting up into her as he plays with her clit, raising her up and up and higher and higher and she’s right there, about to fall over the edge, and she’s gasping out his name - and then the vampire removes his hand.
“NO!” she shouts in frustration, trying to snag his hand to move it back.
“Who’s the alpha?” Oliver questions sharply.
“You are,” she answers quickly, knowing what he wants to hear. Knowing that he won’t let her orgasm until she truly submits. “You are, you’re the boss, you’re the alpha. I’m yours, completely and utterly, you belong to me and I belong you to you.”
He looks pleased. “Good. Now... beg.”
She gapes at him. That is new. “Excuse me?”
“Beg me to fuck you,” Oliver repeats, his voice low. “Beg me to rub your clit, beg me to bring you to orgasm. Now.” When she doesn’t speak immediately, he begins to lift her off him, pulling out.
“Stop!” The archer instantly looks up at her, eyes wide with worry. Wondering if he’s gone too far. Felicity grasps his shoulders frantically, trying to sink back down. That smirk on his face reappears. “Please, Oliver, please! I - I can’t - I - I need you -”
He takes pity on her, and with a rumble, pounds up into her, making her scream in pleasure. They finish together, Oliver thumbing her clit and coming undone as she falls to pieces on top of him. Climaxing together is beautiful and breathtaking and dazzling, blowing both of their minds and leaving them extremely satisfied and happy but also exhausted. The buzz from Oliver feeding off her is still there, and after the sex, Felicity’s brain is tap-dancing with pleasure chemicals and making her feel dizzy.
“Are you okay?” Oliver eventually asks. “I’m sorry I got rough at the end there. I know you don’t always like that.”
“It was fine,” she replies, dazed. “Better than fine. I’m great, I promise. We’ll have to, um, discuss the begging thing because that’s definitely new but the rest was all - 10/10.”
Oliver manages to maneuver them so he’s on his back and Felicity is on top of him, his dick still inside her and going soft. They lay there silently, finally feeling untroubled for the first time since the lockdown started. Felicity draws shapeless figures on Oliver’s scarred chest and a glance up at his blissed-out face every so often reveals that he’s starting to doze.
Eventually, Felicity has to break the peace, though, feeling guilty as she shuffles first off Oliver and then off the couch completely. He frowns at the loss of her, blinking in confusion.
Felicity wrinkles her nose. “I have to pee,” she says apologetically. “Sorry. Don’t really think I’d be able to handle getting a UTI during our quarantine. Hygiene first. And, um -” She peers down at herself, at where his hot release is dripping down her thighs. “I kinda need to shower too.”
He nods in understanding and vaults off the couch. He has to briefly pause to kick his underwear and pants off the rest of the way, and then he crouches to gather all of their discarded clothes up from the floor. They’re all scrunched up and dumped in a pile on the couch; they’ll drop them in the dirty hamper later. Felicity appreciates his naked body contorting and the ripple of his muscles as he has to reach under the couch where her shredded underwear has somehow ended up.
“Eat this first,” Oliver commands, throwing her an energy bar he’s swiped from the kitchen counter. “Your blood glucose levels are low.”
Felicity wants to just step into the bathroom and shower but knows there’s no arguing with him on this. She pees quickly, wiping away Oliver’s come from her legs. Once she’s back in the living room, she then downs a glass of water and chews on the energy bar, which honestly tastes like sawdust because it’s a protein and iron supplement one.
“Are my sugar levels high enough for you?” Oliver sniffs at her and then nods happily. “Great. I’m showering now.”
“Can I join you?” he questions, ruffling his own hair.
She smiles and holds her hand out in an offer. “Sure. How are you feeling?”
He chuckles, taking it and raising it to kiss her palm. “Wrung out.”
They head together into the bathroom. Felicity rinses her hands in the sink with some soap before turning the shower on, knowing the water can take a few minutes to heat up. She rolls her eyes fondly when she peers back at him. “I mean after feeding, you pine nut, not after the sex. I know the sex was fantastic. I was there.”
“Much better,” Oliver confesses with a sigh, as if he’s reluctant to admit that Felicity was right and he should be feeding more often. He opens his mouth slightly to lick his fangs, using the mirror to make sure that they’re clean of Felicity’s blood.
“Anything you want to say?” Felicity asks with a quirked eyebrow.
“Fine, you were right,” he huffs. “You’re always right. I need to listen to you. I should be feeding more often. But I just… I don’t want to risk your health. How about I feed every two days, hmm? Take half a pint from you. That still gives you time to recover after.” His fingertips carefully examine the half-healed wound on her throat. It doesn’t even hurt when he prods at it. It’s well-sealed as Oliver doesn’t do things half-way. “And we’ll have to keep an eye on this, because we don’t want it getting internally infected.”
“Deal.” They shake hands. Oliver’s hands sneak behind her to grab her by the ass and lift her into the air with inhuman strength. Felicity yelps and wraps her legs around his hips, hanging onto his shoulders for dear life. He swings her around with a laugh at the way she clutches tightly and half-glares at him “What are you doing!?”
“Helping you into the shower,” he replies innocently.
There is nothing innocent about what they do in the actual shower instead of cleaning off.
The best part about the quarantine? The best time to have a sex marathon. Vampires, after all, have the ultimate control over their bodily functions and therefore… no refractory period.