babydee1 | Chlollie Fanfic: Misdirection, Chapter 4

Hola, folks!

Once again, I bring you another chapter from an internet cafe. I left the boys with their dad and sneaked away for some 'me!' time, whoo-hoo!

Sorry I haven't had time to respond to all your lovely comments. I will, I promise!

Here's Chapter 4, which I hope y'all like. Things are beginning to get steamy up in here! *grins*

Enjoy!

Lovely banner by the talented

kc_2009 . Thanks again, babes!

Title:               Misdirection
Author:          BabyDee
Pairing:          Chlollie
Rating:           R. Or should I say, Rrrrrowrrr!!!
Warnings:      Nothing to be worried about. Yet. :-P
Timeline:       Season 7 (Siren) with references to Season 6’s Justice
Disclaimer:    All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary:     Sparks begin to fly between our high-achieving couple. Sequel to Trajectory.
Feedback:      …is to me what coffee is to Chloe. :-)

Read previous chapter here.
Read story from the beginning here.

Chapter 4

Oliver helped Chloe off the balcony and led her into the welcoming warmth of the Clocktower apartment. Once inside, he picked up his customised remote control and pushed the button to activate the doors of the weapons store.

As the doors slid smoothly upward and outward he took Chloe by the hand and led her into the brightly illuminated room, unzipping his hooded jacket with his other hand as he did so. They got to the far corner of the room where there was a First Aid cabinet on the wall, and he pulled off his jacket and slung it over a nearby chair.

“That’s better,” he sighed, tugging off his vest as well and laying it down next to the discarded jacket. He looked over and saw Chloe staring at him, her eyes as wide as little saucers.

“What?” he said, baffled.

She didn’t reply, but her gaze slid slightly south and stopped in the region of his exposed nipples and her cheeks reddened.

“Oh! I, er…well, force of habit, I guess. I didn’t mean to embarrass you, I do this every time I get back from a mission.” He grinned. “Leather may look good, but it does begin to chafe after a while.”

She waved a hand dismissively. “It’s okay, it’s your home, after all.”

“True. You’re lucky I didn’t take my pants off,” he chuckled, and walked toward her. With one quick move he lifted her by her hips and deposited her on the top of the counter so that she was sitting in front of him, their faces almost level.

“Right, let’s get you sorted.” He rummaged around in the cabinet to her left and took out some cotton wool, gauze pads and antiseptic spirit.

She grimaced. “Please tell me that’s the friendly, painless bottle,” she said fearfully.

He gave her an apologetic smile as he unscrewed the bottlecap and soaked the swab, and a sharp whiff assailed her nostrils. “No such luck, kiddo. I’m afraid this is going to sting a little.”

“Which is code for ‘hurt like hell,” she grumbled, tensing up as he approached with the harsh-smelling swab.

“Hey, relax,” he said gently.

“I just don’t have a high tolerance for pain,” she said glumly.

He smiled. “I’m not too fond of it, either, but this is a necessary evil.”

“How necessary?” she hedged.

“Absolutely, totally and completely necessary,” he answered. “Now hold on to me.”

She sighed and did as he instructed, clinging to his forearms desperately.

“Look at me,” he said softly, supporting her face with one hand.

She looked into his brown eyes and gradually relaxed, hissing slightly as he pressed the wet swab against her broken skin.

She tried to be as brave as possible, but eventually her fingers tensed and curled on his forearms and her nails dug into his skin as the pain got to her.

“Ooooowww!!!” she finally moaned aloud, trying to pull away from the stinging pain.

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” he empathised, keeping the swab against her face. “But if it’s any comfort, the sting means its working.”

“The sting means it hurts!!!” she complained. “It feels like scores of needles are being shoved into my face!”

“It’s preventing infection,” he said, finally taking that swab away and soaking a fresh one which he pressed against her cheek. “I don’t want any scars marring that pretty face of yours.”

She snorted and squeezed her eyes shut as the sting gradually began to lessen, and she released her death grip on his arms. “What does it matter? No-one really gets to see me. I’m stuck up in a sub-sea level office all day, and holed up in the Watchtower all night.”

Silently he prepared a fresh pad of cotton and gauze with some healing cream smeared on.

“It matters to me,” he finally said quietly as he taped the gauze pad to her cheek. “Especially since your injury was my fault to begin with.”

Chloe lifted a hand and squeezed his arm gently. “Hey, we agreed – no guilt trips, remember?” she said softly.

He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Thank you, Chloe,” he said. “Thanks for forgiving me.”

She smiled back at him. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she replied.

They looked into each other’s eyes until Ollie found himself gravitating towards her. He blinked and stepped back a little, putting some distance between them.

Much as he wanted to kiss her, now wasn’t the right time. She’d just been through a traumatic ordeal, and making a move on her now would be tantamount to taking advantage of her.

“Let’s get you home, Watchtower,” he said, reverting to her codename. He put his hands around her waist and started to lift her off the counter.

Chloe winced and jerked away from his touch as if she’d been bitten by a snake. She leaned over slightly as though favouring her right side.

“Chloe?” he asked, his eyes full of questions.

She lifted a hand to her side and covered it gingerly. “It’s nothing, really.”

He folded his arms and looked at her sternly. “Are you going to take off that shirt, or am I going to have to do it for you?”

Her eyes widened. “Oliver, you’re overreacting. It’s just a sprain…”

He ignored her. Brushing her hands away he deftly unbuttoned her blouse and spread the sides apart.

His eyes narrowed and he inhaled in a sharp hiss. A large, ugly purple bruise the size of a side plate met his gaze, marring the pale skin on the side of her torso just beneath her right breast.

He swore loudly. “Damn it, Chloe, why didn’t you tell me you got hurt when you fell?” he exclaimed.

“Because I knew you’d be like this,” she argued wearily. “You were already beating yourself up about the whole operation, and…I just didn’t want to worry you any further.”

Cursing and muttering something about brainless, stubborn females, he turned around and rummaged in the small medicine freezer till he emerged with a freezable gel eyemask.

“This will have to do for now,” he said as he unravelled a bandage and wrapped it firmly but not too tightly around the makeshift cold compress, taping it to her side. “But I’m sending you to the ER as soon as we’re done here so you can get an x-ray on those ribs. That crazy woman took you down pretty hard.”

As he leaned closer to tie the bandage, his hand accidentally brushed against the underside of her breast. She stiffened and inhaled sharply, averting her eyes and staring at a spot on the wall.

He lowered his own gaze and attempted to tie a knot in the bandage to secure it to her side, but for the first time since he’d opened her blouse, he happened to glance at her breasts.

And promptly lost all dexterity in his fingers. She was wearing a bra, of course, but the black fabric was gossamer-light and one hundred percent see-through. And the view was too tantalising to resist.

His heart thumped loudly as his brain processed the feed of the images received by his eyes.

He was looking at Chloe Sullivan’s breasts. He could see her small, pink nipples and shadowy areolas clearly through the sheer fabric. And heaven help him, he found himself utterly transfixed, unable to tear his gaze away.

Chloe stayed still, but he noticed a flush creeping up her body. He blinked and tried to focus on tying that damned knot, but it was too much to conquer in the presence of the nipples in his face, nipples that were tightening into hard buds and thrusting out insistently right before his eyes.

Oliver’s mouth suddenly felt dry, and he swallowed hard. He made one last attempt to soldier on and pretend not to notice that Chloe was getting turned on in front of him, but it was too late. His own body succumbed to the inevitable response of having a semi-nude female – a semi-nude Chloe – in front of him, and a fierce ache began to brew in his groin.

He thought of every unflattering thing under the sun to try and tamp down his ardour, but it was useless. The tight confines of his leather pants began to squeak and creak quietly as his cock swelled and rose beneath the stiff fabric.

Oh, God, no. She was going to think he was nothing more than a horny pervert turned on by the sight of injured women.

He prayed for Chloe to look anywhere, anywhere but at his hips. His Green Arrow pants were already close-fitting to begin with, and should she glance down, there was no way she could fail to notice his condition.

Unfortunately, the squeaking of the leather gave him away and his prayer went unanswered. Chloe slowly lowered her gaze until it fell on his crotch, and her eyes widened.

Oh, shit. She was staring at him. More specifically, she was staring directly at his hard-on.

He closed his eyes and ground his jaws together. This wasn’t something that happened to him everyday.

Oliver cleared his throat and opened his eyes and looked at her as she lifted her gaze to meet his. For several seconds they stared at each other, and any embarrassment they might have been feeling slowly faded away. They regarded each other, silently acknowledging the pull of attraction between them.

Finally Oliver could bear it no longer. He lifted a hand to Chloe’s uninjured cheek and tilted her chin upward, then slowly leaned in and brushed his lips gently over hers.

***

Chapter 5…

P.S. - Edited to amend 'A&E' to 'ER'...*sigh*