Title: Blow Off Steam
Fandom: Arrow
Rating: NC-17
Length: 590
Content notes: Includes mild kink, frottage, references to possible PTSD from canon events.
Author notes: For fan-flashworks. Also for Rounds of Kink and Seasons of Kink.
Summary: Diggle/Oliver, shower sex and comfort after a hard day.



You need sleep and you need food, but before that you need this.

You turn on the shower, and the water flows down onto you, cascading over your sore body, over your bruises and scrapes. It hurts, but it’s good, the heat of it, the pressure, bearing down on your tense muscles, loosening your body into something almost like relaxation.

Oliver did like his luxuries, much as he denied it. The showers in the base below Verdant looked spartan, concrete walls and drains in the floor, but the showers themselves were top of the line.

You rub your neck with the water, feel the sweat and grime of the day wash away. Steam, feathery pillows of it, surrounds you.

You notice the movement by the entrance, and you nod at Oliver, who nods back as he takes his place under the other showerhead. You watch him close his eyes as a stream of water descends on him, flattening his hair, cleaning off the black grease around his eyes, travelling down his naked body in warm rivulets, reflecting light as they curved around his muscles, his hips, his thighs.

You know what it takes for him to close his eyes with someone else in the room.

You move your hand across your stomach and chest, washing, savoring the heat. You wait for Oliver.

You never approach Oliver first. Half the man is still on that island, and you aren’t about to surprise him.

When he approaches you, it’s slow. He’s still worried that he’ll scare you, that you might say no.

When he’s close enough, you kiss him, soft, waiting for him to kiss back harder, then you move your hands over his body, kiss him deeply, possessively, soft aggression and claim until he parts, out of breath, licking his lips. Water is streaming down his face.

You turn him around, and he complies, is eager to, as he puts his hands against the wall and leans over. You come up behind him, and you want him, the need to feel him close his body around you is desperate, almost unbearable, but there aren’t any condoms in the shower and he trusts you too much for you to suggest something stupid. He presses his thighs together and you push between them, the hard muscles of his thighs surrounding your dick as you move forward and back, frotting for release, your hand reaching around to work Oliver’s dick too, slick with soap and water and precum. You are breathing hard, panting in the steam and heat, and when Oliver flexes his thigh muscles you just about lose your mind.

You finish first. Somehow, you remember to finish him too.

He starts to move away, but you pull him closer. You can feel it, just for a fraction of a second; he doesn’t expect this, he comes very close to treating you as something other than a friend. But it doesn’t happen. He knows where he is, goes supple and lets you put your hands around his waist, pull his back against your chest so you can kiss his shoulder.

The water is still hot, and when you finally let Oliver pull away, you let it stream down your face, a thick sheen of wet rushing down on you, your comfort after a day like today.

You see Oliver turn his shower off, dry his hair with a towel. His body is glistening, and you feel like you can still taste him, even though the towel, dark and ragged, is covering his face.