Sara Lance hurt. She'd learned to endure a lot of pain over the years, but never being apart from Nyssa. There were so many ways to deal with pain, but only one way to deal with this. The League's way. Remind herself that it was necessary. She couldn't be with Nyssa. Starling City needed her, her family needed her.

Nyssa needs you, a small voice said, so deep inside her that Sara couldn't possibly shut it up. You need her.

She sat in Club Verdant, watching it close up, the last of the employees departing one by one. She'd surreptitiously secured herself in the rafters, an easy feat for her training. Soon, there was no one to bother her. She changed into her leathers, prepared to go out on patrol. Maybe she could pretend any muggers she found were what was keeping her and Nyssa apart.

"I never complimented you on your new garb," a voice rang out, echoing through the empty club like a caress that ran from one wall to another. "An appalling oversight on my part."

Sara spotted Nyssa, lurking at one of the side exits. Her armor on, but her face unveiled. Just looking at her, Sara trusted she wasn't there to fight.

"I most especially like the jacket. It seems to me you built the suit entire around that."

With a sixth grade gymnast gold medal dismount, she dropped down to the floor. Nyssa wasn't there to fight, but that didn't mean she wouldn't beg for Sara to come back, in her own way. Something infinitely more dangerous.

"I can't go back, Nyssa. You know that."

"I am aware," Nyssa said, almost haughty, and Sara caught the words in their secret language, built year by year, touch by touch. Do you really think I know you so poorly? "Do you have any change?"

"What?"

"Change?" Nyssa's eyes tilted to the side, reviewing her secondary knowledge of English. "The coins? Little coins you use for soft drinks and arcades?"

"Yeah… I have change…" Sara reached into one of her jacket's hidden pockets. It had almost a hundred of them. She guessed Nyssa had thought Sara would use them for USB drives, microfilm, little lockpicks, but mostly she kept old ticket stubs inside them. So hipster of her…

She found a quarter. Flipped it to Nyssa, who caught it expertly. "The League of Assassins graciously accepts your payment. I will stay to provide whatever services I can render in exchange for your generous contribution to our cause."

Sara shook her head. "Nyssa, what are you doing?"

"Accepting a contract. Why? Do you believe our terms are unreasonable?" Nyssa's dark eyes were smoldering with a kind of sardonic humor uniquely hers. "I will accept a dime, but no less."

"Your father will never accept this."

"My father gives orders, but my heart commands me. And you are my heart." Nyssa sauntered closer to Sara, treating her like a tiger that was finally at ease, allowing her to approach. "If anyone asks—insinuating myself in the circle of a wealthy CEO and his team of vigilantes seems to me the sort of thing the League of Assassins would condone. I will, of course, slowly corrupt you and your friends, giving Ra's al Ghul a hold on Starling City, and advancing our cause throughout North America."

It was possible only Sara Lance could hear that plot from a master assassin and smile. "I was already missing you. It already felt like I couldn't breathe."

"Then breathe, Ta-er al-Asfer. Breathe deeply."

They embraced. Coming back to Starling City hadn't felt like home. That had been scrubbed out of her, washed from the marrow of her bones. Starling City was just a place. Even Laurel, Quentin, Ollie—they were just people. Nyssa, she was home. Sara held tightly to her, knowing she would never have to let go again.

Her hands traced down Nyssa's back, long-remembered curves, feeling things both inwardly and outwardly that she had not allowed herself to when she'd known they would have to separate.

With a smile, Nyssa told Sara to undress her. Sara did. Eager to obey.

"Leave the costume on. And the mask," Nyssa told her. "I wish to lay claim to every facet of you."

"You like the wig," Sara replied. "I knew it."

"I prefer—" Nyssa's hand dipped into Sara's pants, "your real hair."

Felicity Smoak was not looking forward to another night of trying to hack into the Triads. Her evening nap had turned into a very weird sex dream involving equal measures Oliver Queen and Jennifer Lopez. The J-Lo thing seemed more likely to happen. As much as she mooned over him, Oliver had decided that the one woman in the world he wouldn't bang couldn't be some 98-year-old woman in Tibet, no, it had to be her.

She went to the club's back entrance, fully prepared to tell anyone who asked that, as Oliver's secretary, she was there to pick up his cell phone, which he'd lost. She mentally rehearsed it over and over, right up until her hand was on the doorknob. Then she heard it.

Someone was crying out.

Had cried out. Now they were silent. Everything was silent, except for the wind, which now that Felicity thought about it, was really creepy, whistling and blowing on stuff…

"Maybe I should knock," she said aloud, and raised her fist as if wondering what it would do if it came into contact with a volatile substance like a door. She was about to find out when the cry came again, this time in a pleading tone. Almost as if someone—or something—no, someone—was in pain and begging for it to stop.

Felicity hovered at the door, rooted in place. Listening.

Sara stared at Nyssa's sex, her slit pink and wet and hot for her. She'd stepped out of her trousers and now held the skirt of her clothing up out of the way. Sara could smell her.

"I've missed your kisses," Nyssa told her, sitting down, her skirts still held out of the way in an oddly dainty gesture. "I've missed your kisses absolutely everywhere, but one place in particular—"

As much as she loved Nyssa, Sara knew one of the reasons their attraction was so fierce was that Sara was one of the few people in Nyssa's orbit who wasn't frightened of her, that didn't blindly obey her. So instead of following the veiled order, she knelt down and ran her hands up Nyssa's smooth legs—creamy, lightly freckled, looking as delicious as Sara knew her to taste.

Grinning boldly up at Nyssa, Sara ran her cheek over Nyssa's thigh. The assassin trembled as Sara got closer and closer to her slit. Then, all at once, Sara threw herself forward and was buried in Nyssa's sweet taste.

"Subhanallah!" The voice came from the same direction as before, but Felicity heard it clearly this time. Obviously, it was louder. Not that she could understand it, not having taken Arabic As A Second Language in college.

The dream she'd had about Oliver—and J-Lo—flickered back into Felicity's mind. Like the word had triggered some posthypnotic suggestion, Felicity slowly turned the knob. The door moved in fractions of inches, as slowly as a safe being cracked, and all the time that voice grew clearer and clearer, resolving into an agonized groan that twisted Felicity's guts into a knot of fear.

A low, needing whine: "Oh yes… please… just like that…!"

Felicity stood transfixed, facing a door that was only open a fraction. But it was open.

"Oh yes, oh yes!" Nyssa's hands had slid behind Sara's head, where they held as firmly as iron bars. "You consume my womanhood like a—a ravenous wolf!"

Sara stopped licking, now probing her tongue between the pouting lips of Nyssa's cunt as delicately as a lockpick. Nyssa whined and gasped in a manner in no way befitting the Daughter of the Demon.

"Oh, my love!" Nyssa exclaimed. "Even if you didn't have my heart, it would be worth coming to this stinking city—simply for your tongue!"

Sara continued attending to her task, now grinding her strong thighs together to feel the juices building in her panties. She didn't know which was making her so horny—tasting Nyssa's cunt or hearing her desperate outcry. She rounded her hands around Nyssa's hips, cupping a lithe ass; overjoyed to discover it was even better to the touch than she remembered.

"My tongue demands tribute," Sara said in panting Arabic. "Give it one, lover."

Nyssa nodded in eager submission.

A sharp wail shot through the door, making Felicity instinctively jump back. Her mind rushed to a decision. She would leave. This was none of her business. She would just damn well leave.

Only now the sounds had changed. There was no more whimpering breathiness, just low, gasping moans. Sounded like the noises J-Lo had been making in her dream. But it was so intense, so loud—even louder than it really, objectively was, somehow, the sound just pounding in her mind. Maybe it was something else? Maybe someone was hurt or in trouble! She should check. She would just… check…

Winding her fingers around the open door, Felicity took a deep breath and eased it further open.

Nyssa's hands were lost in Sara's hair, deliriously adrift in a sea of golden light. It seemed the one stable point in her world, as her whole body heaved rhythmically, trying to get more of her burning pussy to the sweet salve of Sara's mouth.

Sara had Nyssa's lips spread open, the bright pinkness inside blotting out the stark red of Sara's tongue. Both of them watched, spellbound by the interplay of colors as Nyssa absorbed the tongue over and over again. Then Sara noticed Nyssa's clit had swollen out of its hood. With a winking look to her lover, she pressed her tongue to it and Nyssa practically flew off her perch.

"Make me come, make me come," Nyssa chanted to the only woman in the world from whom she would beg a thing rather than simply take it. "Use your fingers."

Sara looked up at her, surprised that Nyssa was so quickly ready to be penetrated. But she herself felt the need, wanted her remembrance of Nyssa tightening and slickening around her fingers to become suddenly real. She wrapped her lips around Nyssa's glistening bud, devoting all her attention to that lucky morsel as her fingers found Nyssa's cunt, warm as melting butter…

Felicity moved so slowly, so aware of every motion, it was like she was watching herself through a dream. She pushed the door open, further and further. It seemed surreal that it didn't stop, that it kept opening. Her whole body tensed as the hinges twisted. She could imagine the worst-case scenario—a tiny squeak—and thought she would have a heart attack if that happened. But the door just—gave. Open a crack… enough for her to poke her head through.

"Do it, do it!" a high-pitched voice rang out, and despite the words, Felicity thought she had been detected, that someone was speaking to her. No, it was still just… them… and it was pretty obvious now that they weren't in trouble.

Just a couple of Thea's employees, getting some off the clock. What the hell was Felicity doing, peeking on them? She spent half the day on the internet; she knew how to find porn if that was what she was looking for. Cursing herself, Felicity took her hand off the door.

It yawned open anyway.

Nyssa made more noise than she would if a spear had pierced her heart, gasping as Sara twisted her fingers inside the other woman. She pulled Sara's wig clean off her head, tossing it aside as her lust grew. The lust that had been with her since she had first laid eyes on Sara. The lust that had grown every moment they'd trained and fought together. The lust that had been merely whetted, never quenched by actually possessing the blonde. The lust that had been set on fire by Sara's absence. The lust that was now building to an explosion.

"Fuck me! Fuck me!" Nyssa panted. "In the name of Ra's al Ghul, fuck my cunt!"

With a wry look at her—they'd have to discuss pillow talk later—Sara eagerly pistoned her fingers through Nyssa's clasping sex, grinding her knuckles into the walls of Nyssa's pussy. Nyssa grunted like an animal, feeling her body throbbing out of control.

"Yes!" Nyssa cried. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Her sex was spasming, her juices spilling out from deep within her as Sara's fingers slipped sleekly into her, fucking her even as she came. And yet Sara slowed down her mouth, only lapping intermittently at Nyssa's painfully erect clit to guide Nyssa to peak after peak of a powerful climax.

Felicity shook uncontrollably. She bit down on the ball of her thumb to keep from crying out. She had known Sara and Nyssa had been involved—Dig had awkwardly informed her of their full history—but that was back when Sara was a scary assassin lady.

She had no idea Sara… sweet, adorable, brave Sara… was still involved with some sort of terrorist. Still in love with her—still in the city with her, Nyssa was still in the city—still fucking. They were fucking right in front of her. She stood there, helplessly, trying to regain her senses. If anything, she would've thought Sara would be the one to make such a pitifully wounded sound, but she was the one doing it to Nyssa—making her face contort in obvious, incredible pleasure.

Her heart was pounding like a V8 engine. She imagined them hearing it across the empty room. Felicity put one hand to her breast, trying to muffle the telltale sound, and found her nipple hard.

Nyssa fell back in her seat, her dark thighs now bright in the dim light with the sheen of Sara's tongue and her own juices. Laughing animatedly—a broad, booming sound Sara was sure was a rare gift—Nyssa stripped off the clothes remaining above her waist.

"I knew—from the moment I looked in your eye—that you would be a fine warrior. If only I had known what a wicked tongue you would prove to have!" Nyssa laughed again, Sara reflecting it in a bright smile. "You should've warned me!"

"If only I had known I liked girls," Sara retorted. "You should've warned me."

Nyssa reached out to run her hands through Sara's natural hair, the shorter cut and duller sheen that was still very much to Nyssa's liking. "I'll warn you now: it was not only your lips whose absence I marked." Her fingers moved down to crest Sara's mouth. "Well… not these lips, I should say."

Nyssa was touching a huge smile as Sara undid her belt.

Felicity's dazed, almost unknowing stare remained on Sara and Nyssa. She watched like it was a magic show, looking for some illusion, some trick, some sign that it was all a lie, even as she watched Nyssa push Sara to the floor—spread her thighs—yank her pants to her knees. A brief glimpse showed Felicity that Sara's panties were wettened to her crotch; then Nyssa pulled them away.

"I will never relinquish your taste on my tongue again," Nyssa promised, lifting Sara's tanned legs onto her shoulders, then gluing her mouth to Sara's sex. Sara groaned in exuberant enjoyment as her folds were parted by a knowledgeable tongue. It was clear from Sara's groans and mewls—primal pleasure—that Nyssa was a skilled lover of women in general, and her in particular. "My most cherished prize is the pleasure I shall give you each night…"

"Fuck!" Sara replied eloquently as she squirmed under the weight of the pleasure Nyssa inflicted on her.

The obscenity hit Felicity like an electric charge, leaving her tingling. She didn't know what she was doing there, what was making her watch—only that she was there, she was watching. It seemed like… if this could happen to Sara, if one of the bravest, strongest women Felicity knew could give into this insane seduction… it could happen to anyone.

It could happen to me, Felicity thought, trying to ignore the feeling that ran menacing up her thighs.

Sara's cunt was dripping wet—wetter than even Nyssa's had been, Sara thought guiltily. Christ, how much had she missed this? How had she not gone running back to Nanda Parbat for more of her?

Because she'd known Nyssa would come for her. With every bit as much certainty as she knew Nyssa would teasingly sample her wetness with a flickering tongue—"Oh!"—before piercing her with the entire length—"Shit!"—Sara had known they would be pulled back together, by circumstances or Fate or Nyssa's sheer bloody-minded determination.

"I need to come," Sara gasped, all thoughts of restraint gone, all the relearned mannerisms of Starling City shed. She was just raw need, and Nyssa was pure satisfaction. Sara spread her legs as wide as she could and let the two meet. "Like only you can make me… only you…"

Nyssa's tongue withdrew between shimmering lips, replaced by two fingers curling inside Sara, a soft touch melting into her most sensitive place. Sara's mouth hung open. Her eyes fell shut.

"Only I can make you come like this," Nyssa said, pausing only to lick the dampness from her chin, "because only I can order you to come so fucking hard."

Felicity watched the scene before her like she was attending a TEDtalk, making note of every blur of Sara's gyrating hips, the exact angle of her splayed-out legs… the beads of perspiration breaking out on her own neck, to wander into the cleft of her cleavage.

She had to leave. Now, before she saw any more, before any more of what they were doing got into her head. She shut her eyes—still heard the deep, desperate sound of Sara asking to be fucked by this madwoman—turned around—still saw the veil of Nyssa's black hair undulating gently between Sara's thighs like a waterfall at night.

She opened her eyes again, the horrible scene literally behind her, and saw herself walking away, walking to her car, driving away, back to her own apartment, where no one had sweaty lesbian sex with any assassins whatsoever!

She just didn't move. There was a spark smoldering between her legs. She didn't want it to go out. And as she turned around, every inch she moved made the spark burn brighter.

Sara had been horny. Then, tasting Nyssa's cunt, she'd been desperate. Now, she was no longer anything but need. She begged. Begged simply because Nyssa wanted her to.

"Tell me to come! Tell me to come!"

Nyssa looked into Sara's eyes. Looked down to Sara's clit. She lowered her teeth to it, spoke against it like the little thing could hear her. "You are mine. So come for me!"

Her teeth gnashed.

Sara came. Fucking her pussy desperately into the sheer beauty of Nyssa's face as she came uncontrollably against the pure pleasure of Nyssa's mouth, moaning, whining, jerking her flushed ass cheeks right off the carpet. Her body gave Nyssa all the pungent juices she had to offer, coming for nearly a minute, and Nyssa took it all. As greedily as Felicity's widened eyes took in the sight of it.

Felicity's hand moved down her body as if discovering it for the first time. Her belly was soft, the slope downward graceful, a smooth dip to the soft material of her skirt. Underneath, the softer feel of her pubic mound. She rested her hand there as if the need would end with it, but it didn't. Seeing Sara come, it got worse. While the rest of her was frozen, her hand moved. Back and forth, through the silky material of her panties, against the slippery moisture crowning her trembling pubis. Then, inside, under the damp heat, against herself.

She came, already knowing it wouldn't be enough.

"I had an unquenchable thirst for you," Nyssa whispered in Sara's ear as they laid together on the body-warm floor, its material soaked in the heat they had generated. "I satiate myself with the sight of you, the sound of you, the feel of you, but I still feel this thirst. I'm as bound to you as I am to the air and the water."

"Then take your fill," Sara said, poising her naked body underneath Nyssa's, though she only provoked a new, soulful kiss. Their hunger for each other had been too intense. In satisfying it, they had emptied themselves. All that was left was the soft, succoring feel of their togetherness.

Nyssa's lips returned to Sara's ear, surprising her with a slight nipple. "I would… but I am not the only one who holds desire for you."

Sara arched an eyebrow.

"The blonde?" Nyssa asked, almost teasing.

"Felicity Smoak. She's a fan."

"The hacker," Nyssa realized. "She could be a worthy ally. If properly motivated…"

"Maybe you could put some pants on if you intend to recruit her?"

"No need. She already brings herself a dim reflection of the pleasure I could show her." Nyssa smiled into another kiss. "Let's allow her to finish. I sympathize with her—going without so pleasing a sight as you for so long…"

"We could do that…" Sara began, before being interrupted by another taunting kiss. "Or…" And Nyssa stopped short as one of Sara's fingers found its way home. "We could finish with her."

Felicity was almost mesmerized now, sucked deep into her pleasure like she had fallen into a trance. Sara and Nyssa's fuck had reached a valley instead of a peak, but their sweaty bodies were still the most erotic sight Felicity could imagine, and every caress of their hands or meeting of their lips sent a jagged sort of need into a new place within her.

She unzipped her skirt, let it fall, stepped right out of it. Then jerked her wet panties down to her thighs. Now bottomless, she eased her fingers inside herself. It was so good. So wonderful. So wrong, too, but she couldn't, wouldn't summon the willpower to stop.

She was falling into a deep, powerful pleasure as her middle finger timidly slid up her slit, into maddening contact with her erect clitoris. It was like no sex she had ever had before. The satisfying, guilty comfort of lying in a warm bed all morning, interspersed with the guiltier ecstasy of devouring dark chocolate. And when she circled this new, mysterious pleasure with her finger, that she couldn't even begin to compare to something else.

A new and warmly surging delight came to her. She could feel her pussy getting wetter, somehow, her labia growing slippery. It would be so easy to reach inside. She only had to press her fingers against it—just—push…

Felicity gasped as her touch insinuated itself inside the tight, constricting space. If she thought of Nyssa or Sara hearing her, she didn't care. She shut out all thought that someone might see her, any knowledge that this was wrong. All that mattered was the lurching feeling of her finger being worked in and out, back and forth, sensations so different it seemed ludicrous her body could produce both at once. She flicked her thumb at the hot quiver of her clitoris—"Yes!"

Let them hear her. All that mattered was to reach the same delicious finale they had.

"I have a gift for you," Nyssa muttered, eyes rolling back in her head as Sara nibbled at her pulse. "All the way from Nanda Parbat."

"You're the only gift I want," Sara said immediately, her tongue traveling up from the hollow of Nyssa's throat.

"Then think of it as a gift for me—giving my gift to you."

Physically pulling herself away from Sara's attentions, Nyssa clawed into her discarded clothes, finding a hidden pocket, removing from it a small vial. She displayed the liquid inside the glass to Sara. "Oils from the Pits of Lazarus. The rarest treasure I could bring. Not worth a tenth as much as you, Ta-er al-Asfer."

"So you'll enjoy putting it on me," Sara smirked, "and our guest will enjoy watching…"

"You'll enjoy my touch," Nyssa said with an air of gentle correction, "as well as her gaze."

"Well, in that case, it's a fine gift indeed." Sara's smile grew for miles. "So give it to me."

Nyssa poured some of the precious oil out into her hands before setting the vial aside. She rubbed her palms together, lathering the green liquid into a warm, clear spread, then began Sara's anointment.

First, she slathered Sara's shoulders, then worked her way down Sara's muscular back before reaching around to Sara's breasts—by now aching for attention. Sara looked down in wonder as her breasts were slowly, gently covered, a radiant green glow massaged into them. Nyssa gave them all the love and care a body could ask for, grasping them, kneading them, drawing her fingers back with only the greatest of reluctance, letting them pull gently at Sara's rosy nipples as her touch tapered off the Canary's breasts.

Sara took the vial now, greasing up her hands just as Nyssa had. As Nyssa moved her playful hands down Sara's body, she fondled Nyssa in the same way she herself had been touched.

"What's mine is yours," Sara said, polishing Nyssa's body to a bright sheen.

She might as well have been referring to the pleasure she felt, having Nyssa delve between her legs once more.

Felicity didn't remember sitting down, but she was flat on her ass, knees bent to let her better touch herself, her breasts heaving almost angrily inside her shirt, seeming heated, constricted. She would send her top to join her bottom, only she was no more willing to part with the feeling of her masturbation than she had been before.

Her entire body quivered, her mind electrified—she was a battleground of sensations, a race of intensities speeding to be felt first. Her face was colored a deep red, her heart setting a wild pace with its beat. Her orgasm began in the warm throb of her sex, moved up the pinched pleasure of her belly, and kept going, going, higher, higher…

Both bodies aglow with the oil they'd lavished on each other, Nyssa put a strong arm around Sara and guided her down upon her back. After a quick glance over at Felicity, she leaned over Sara to greedily mouth the blonde's breasts, only stopping to nibble playfully at the hard little bud standing out hard and straight from either swell.

The Canary cried a symphony of pleasured sounds, finally growing so excited that the only way to express it was to shoot her hand to Nyssa's box. Nyssa rolled onto her side, Sara following with her, the two embracing, touching, only able to still move because they enjoyed giving pleasure to each other more than getting it themselves. They moaned as much as they touched, moving with as much urgency as Felicity, Nyssa frantically rubbing Sara's clit, Sara desperately fingering Nyssa's snatch. There was no thought in their motions, their bodies anymore.

Their kisses were sheer instinct.

Felicity felt something in her body finally give, a hot release of gushing spurts, right into her penetrating finger, covering her hand, then her tingling thighs. Her groan was purely animal, arriving at the same time as a sharp curse and a muffled cry—loud enough to wake all of Starling City if it hadn't been buried in the sex of Nyssa al Ghul.

The three of them had all come at once. Overpowered by the triple intensity, Felicity laid back, legs quivering, arms asleep, barely able to turn her head to keep her two lovers—the two lovers—in sight. She couldn't even pull her fingers from the wet bite of her orgasm. She just let the dying throbs keep going and going and going until they were finally stilled. Then she heard a sharp intake of breath.

Nyssa had rolled off of Sara, who stayed frozen in her bottoming position, legs parted and buttocks raised to Nyssa's absent fingers. Her face was turned to Felicity with a look of complete satiation, while Nyssa stood over her, hands on her hips, regarding the intruder in a way that sent a delicate tickle through a place Felicity thought had gone to sleep.

"Felicity, correct?" Nyssa asked sharply. "What are you doing here? The League of Assassins does not look kindly upon spies."

"I wasn't… spying," Felicity said lamely, trying desperately to pull up her panties only to find she'd accidentally kicked them off. She tried crab-walking over to where they lay, but Nyssa froze her with a look.

"If you were spying on us," Nyssa continued, taking a step forward, "there will be dire repercussions. However, if you only meant to join us…" She shared a look with Sara. "I think we can be… understanding."

"J-join you?"

"You're halfway there already," Sara broke in. "You just have to lose that adorable sweater…"

"I… I can't… the three of us, that's…"

Nyssa kept coming. Not with the gait she used with Sara, that of a vet approaching a cornered animal. This was a predator stalking its prey. "Oliver Queen will not have you in his bed. Clearly, you are so insatiate as to require pleasuring. You've seen what we can do to each other, so would you prefer to continue imagining what we could do to you—or shall you experience it?"

"I… I…"

Sara raised her head—barely. As tough as she was, she had only started training less than a decade ago. Nyssa had been an assassin her entire life. "Felicity, trust me. Say yes. Nyssa is the Demon's Heir. She always gets what she wants."

"Yes," Nyssa confirmed, drawing her eyes far more over what was still concealed by Felicity's clothes than what had been revealed. "Always."

Hands shaking, Felicity reached for the hem of her sweater.