This is dedicate to my dearie Rita, as a birthday gift! Happy belated birthday! I hope it meets your expectations and you like it. I wrote it with all my love!!
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SOFT AS SILK
On a lazy Sunday morning, Felicity drank coffee while she watched outside the window. She delighted herself with the small, but cozy backyard of her home. Color had exploded just a few days before, when the spring had finally hit Star City at last. Oliver had bought the house for her on winter as fourth anniversary gift and she never imagined how many flowers would bloom in her new garden. She suspected that her husband had something to be with it, because she had mentioned once that one of the few things she truly had missed from their brief time living in Ivy town had been the flowers on the terrace, specially the Snapdragon flowers.
Those were a reminder of their first field mission together and she loved their scent.
Now her backyard was full of them. She smiled before taking what was left of her coffee, thinking how sappy Oliver was. When it came to her, that was. Even after a decade, knowing him, it was almost impossible for her to reconcile the two sides of her husband. She knew how scary he could be when he was in full Green Arrow mode, but at home he was the sweetest man on Earth.
Thinking about him so much, Felicity noticed that he was nowhere to be seen. He had gone to take a shower a while ago, but he was usually out in ten minutes tops and had passed twice as that. Leaving the mug on the sink, she went to their room and didn't find him there.
"Oliver, are you here, my love?"
"Bathroom."
"What the frak are you doing?" she gasped, as soon as she peeked in the bathroom. Oliver was applying shaving cream on his face.
He turned his head to see her, with a silly smile on his lips, "Isn't it obvious?"
"Why are you going to shave your whiskers?" she said coming closer to him, and touched the part of his face that had no cream yet, his face hair tickling her fingertips. "I love your stubble."
"I thought of having a little makeover," he reached for a towel. "But if you don't want me--"
"No, no, no, no," she stopped him from cleaning his face. "Shave, if you want. It's just that it's going to be weird looking at you without it."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, yeah," then, an idea popped into her head. The corner of her lips turned up. "May I?" she asked for the shaving foam. Oliver looked at her waryly, but didn't hesitate in handing her the canister. "Now sit," she urged him backwards to the toilet. She closed the lid and pushed him down onto it.
"Hon, what are--"
"I want to shave you. Do you mind?"
"Err... no, but do you know how?"
"I should be hurt by your lack of confidence in me. But FYI, yes, I do know how to shave. After years of marriage, you should've realized by now how much shaving does a woman to herself? Smooth legs and hairless armpits don't come magically to us, you know."
"Sorry, you're right," Oliver quickly conceded, raising his hands.
"Besides, I used to shave my grandfather when I visited him as a teen," she couldn't help the emotion in her voice.
Grandpa Smoak had become her only paternal figure, when Noah was not longer in the picture. He passed before she turned fifteen years old, and Felicity missed him dearly. Oliver took her hand and squeezed her fingers gently for comfort, bringing her back to the present.
"I wish you'd have met him, my love. He would've treated you so bad," she chuckled.
Oliver arched an eyebrow, "And you wish I had met him?"
"Oh, believe me, he'd have given you the hardest of times. He was very protective of me, but he would've loved you, too, just because I love you, and because he'd have seen the kind of man you are. The kind of man I see you are."
Oliver leaned up, and she, down, and met in the middle for a sweet kiss. Felicity didn't care that she was getting shaving cream all over her face. That was a small price to pay for his kisses. Oliver pulled back, much sooner than she wanted to, so she followed him down and deepened the kiss.
Several minutes passed while they taste each other; the passion growing. Felicity felt Oliver's hands ghosting around her waist and hips, while she played with his hair. They danced a well-practice tongue tango until the lack of oxygen became a serious business. She pulled away, taking a big breath in, and then she leaned back down, rubbing their noses together for an Eskimo kiss.
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Oliver wasn't interested in shaving anymore. All he wanted was to make love to his wife. She looked so sexy, using one of his shirts as a dress. She always loved to do that. She didn't waste an opportunity to wear his dirty dress shirts. It was a cliché, but sexy as hell. He knew that she was wearing nothing else underneath.
"Come here," he said, pulling her closer to him again. "Let's go back to bed. I want to spend all day loving you."
"Nuh-uh," she refused, stepped back out of his reach and going to the sink. "Shaving first."
"Are you refusing to have sex with me?" he gasped, faking offense.
"I wouldn't dare to refuse such pleasures, my love," she said, watching herself in the mirror as she cleaned her face with a towel. Then she watched him over her shoulder, with a sultry smile on her lips. She roamed her eyes over his body, deliberate lingering in the bulge of his sweatpants. "We can't let that be a waste, can we?"
Most definitely, they couldn't. He shook his head in agreement, knowing what fun the rest of the day would be.
"Now, be still."
Oliver kept his eyes on her face the whole time while she applied more shaving cream on his face and removed all his facial hair. She took her time, sliding the razor and being careful not to cut him. He delighted himself in the little changes in her expression, as she lost herself in concentration for the task. Faint lines marked her forehead and she bit her lip slightly. Her delicate fingers pulled his head and skin in different angles, so no hair would escape the sharp edge of the razor.
She washed the razor over and over again, as she worked all around his cheeks, jaw, and neck. When she was satisfied that his skin was soft as silk, she removed the excess of soapy foam with a towel.
"I think... you're done," Felicity decided, running her soft fingertips over his freshly shaved face. She smiled at him.
"How do I look?"
"Younger. But look yourself in the mirror," she grabbed his hand and urged him to get on his feet. "See if I missed a spot."
He didn't need to look, because he was sure she hadn't. And if she had, well... he didn't care. He had a much urgent concerns to take care of. He pulled her close to him and dipped his head down, capturing her lips with his own. "Thank you for the shave. Now it's my time to spoil you," he whispered against her sweet mouth, before kissing her again, much deeper this time. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her and urged her to wrap her legs around his waist. Holding her close, he walked to their bedroom. They spent the rest of the morning making love, until both succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep in each other's arms.
