"I'm also more than capable of handling whatever these adolescents throw at me."
"Yes, ma'am. Doesn't mean I have to like it."
"If he turns out to be Hydra I'm going to shoot someone," Laurel moans. Felicity shushes her but laughs, legs vibrating underneath Laurel's head.
"Don't shush me, he has to be the husband!"
"We don't know who the husband is yet," Felicity scolds. "Suspense is half the fun. Now, stop interrupting."
"Pfft." Laurel sticks out her tongue.
"We're like, fifteen minutes in. Calm down," Felicity says.
The channel cuts to commercial; Laurel reaches up around Felicity's neck.
Felicity resists, biting her lip as a taunt, but the subsequent kiss is assertive and Laurel knows she's made a strong enough argument.
Or at least, she thinks so...but Felicity takes off only her sweater as their kiss deepens, and she's not quite sure.
Felicity slips an arm down Laurel's side and up her shirt; Laurel sits up, and Felicity deftly fondles her nipples.
But when the break ends, she stops.
Come next break, she moves one hand to Laurel's clit.
She advances, but even when Laurel's so close she's already shaking, Felicity pauses each time the show returns, and God, it's torturous. Laurel tries fucking herself on the fingers Felicity leaves inside of her, but Felicity is too stationary, too determined, to be distracted by her antics, so she's left to crave, to whine and moan and pray that the next break comes soon so that she can, too.