A/N: I don't own any of the characters or Arrow and I'm not associated in anyways with CW or DC.

So yeah, Flutter/CupidShot was super freakin cute and I couldn't help myself. So here's some shameless smut, basically. This is just a oneshot, although the next one is semi associated.

Enjoy and please read and review! :D

Staring out at the humdrum of the ARGUS facility, Carrie sighed heavily. She'd tried to adjust, but she just didn't appreciate the way they treated her here, her heart was heavy with loneliness. And she'd been on her best behavior, in hopes that maybe she'd be rewarded.

Little did she know, she would be.

She heard a commotion outside, but couldn't make out the words that were being exchanged. She sat back on her bed, straining to listen.

Shortly after, her door was unlocked and it creaked open. She frowned some, then she saw the guards practically drag Floyd Lawton in and drop him on the ground.

Wanting to gasp in delight, she clasped her hands together in front of her. "Floyd!" She purred, getting off her bed and crouching down to rest her hand on his back. The guards huffed and left.

A groan erupted from Lawton and he scrambled away from her. "Don't touch me, Cutter," he snapped.

Shaking her head, she scooted closer. "Aw, Floyd," then it hit her and she exclaimed with glee. "Are you my reward? My present?" Running her tongue over her teeth, she gave him a seductive look.

He grimaced. She knew that he'd only just finished healing from all of the burns that he'd acquired from the explosion, when he'd sacrificed himself for the Diggles and herself. She was so proud of him for recovering so quickly, but it still hurt her, just thinking about it.

"I'm only here because Waller decided I needed some sort of punishment for talking back to her," he grumbled.

Carrie tried not to giggle, once she'd promised to herself that she'd never giggle at anyone but the Arrow. But that'd been awhile ago, before she met Floyd. "Oh, Mandy must like me," she said.

"Did you not hear anything I said?" He glared at her.

"You're kinda cute when you're angry," she teased, flicking his nose. "Anyways, I've been on my best behavior. And you're my reward."

Shaking his head, Lawton got to his feet and moved to the other side of the cell. He let out a bitter laugh, there was no way in hell he was spending the rest of the day in here with 'Cupid'.

"Waller would never do that. And I'm not a reward, you're a punishment," he shot her a look.

Carrie stepped towards him and he realized how poor of a decision his stance was, she backed him right up against the edge of the bed. "You make it sound so naughty," she laughed.

He swallowed hard.

Running a finger down his neck, she flicked open a button on his prison jumpsuit, making him cringe. He knew this would end badly. Before long, Carrie had all his shirt buttons undone and she was starting to run her hands along his bare chest. A glint in her eye made him tense up, was he the crazy one now?

He closed his eyes for a second as her fingers passed over a few old scars and she noticed he liked it, so she did it again. But this time, he knew better, this time he stepped away. "Stop it, Cutter," he warned, uncomfortable with the buzz in his own body, left from the prints of her fingertips.

"Shh," she somehow managed to corner him again, only this time she used her hands to pin him against the wall, holding his forearms against the cold plaster. He sighed. It was useless. He leaned his head back in defeat, he didn't want to hurt her, but he didn't want to give in either.

He looked down in panic when he felt her lips touch him, was she kissing his scar? He frowned down at her and squirmed somewhat. "What the hell?" He muttered, alarmed by how much he liked the feeling. He was shushed by the redhead again.

She continued kissing his scars and then stood back up, her nose traveling up his chest to meet his neck, where she pulled back and looked into his eyes. "Don't tell me you don't want this as much as I do, we both know it wouldn't be true," she said, giving him that look again.

Opening his mouth to argue, he was silenced when she buried her nose in his neck, breathing him in. Slightly disturbed and almost turned on by her actions, he simply stopped trying to talk and watched her carefully.

She kissed his neck, going down his shoulder and back to his chest. It sent sensations to his mind and down to the rest of him, sensations that he didn't trust. A giggle came up from her and he groaned. "What is it?" he sighed.

Her nose was wrinkled and she looked up at him. "Vincent's a funny name," she said, letting go of one of his arms to tap the name tattooed on his skin. He expected himself to use the freedom of an arm to force her off him, but he didn't. The giggle had been so innocent and so full of humor that he didn't dare move.

She returned to her mission, which she shared the purpose of verbally. "I'm going to kiss every name on you," she murmured happily, then added. "In honor of the deceased, of course."

When she got down to her knees to be able to reach the ones on his stomach, he realized that...maybe it wasn't such a bad idea, her little mission.

Then her tongue got involved, running along the letters of the names of each of his victims. He made a small noise and his hips jolted forward a fraction, making her giggle again. This one less innocent than the first.

As she continued her journey, she let go of his other hand, both of her hands coming down to rest on his hips, holding him still. "You're ticklish, aren't you?" she breathed, the warm feeling making him twitch again.

Her hands clutched his hips, fingers pressing against his skin. He flattened his hands and pressed them against the wall, for stability, which he now realized was required by this entire situation.

Drawing patterns around his belly button with her tongue, she made a little snort to herself, reading another name that amused her. But she was more interested in moving her tongue up his stomach and chest to stop at his neck again. She tilted her head and frowned, looking at his shoulder.

He almost made a noise of disappointment when she stopped.

"Andrew Diggle," her face fell. "You killed John's..."

"Brother," he finished, slightly breathless from her previous actions.

"Oh."

Her hands left his hips, taking the warmth with them. She moved away, sitting down on her bed, which creaked under its new weight. Confused, he asked. "What?"

Shaking her head, she turned away. "It's nothing."

"Why'd you stop?" He breathed, still bracing himself against the wall.

"It's just," she looked up at him, her big eyes appearing incredibly sad. "John helped us. And you killed his brother...I think that's terrible."

Sighing heavily, he moved over and dropped himself onto the bed beside her. "Look, it was a long time ago. When I first got tied up in the sniper business, I was..." he hesitated, choosing his next words very carefully. "I got tied up with an organization called H.I.V.E. They were unique, they didn't just want me to kill people who were interfering where they didn't belong, or bad people, even. They weren't like A.R.G.U.S. They wanted me to kill for their...personal vendettas."

She was still watching him with her big sad eyes, but now there was a little less disappointment in them. Maybe she was realizing how much contempt he was harboring for H.I.V.E. Maybe she just saw the good in him, although he wasn't sure how much of that was left.

Disgusted with himself and what he did in the past, he continued. "I killed Andrew Diggle without knowing who he was or about his family at home. When I did learn, well, I was sick to my stomach for a week. I felt terrible. I was ashamed and angry and...did some things I regret now," his voice died off and he stared at the ground, looking and sounding for all the world like a defeated man.

"I suppose that makes it okay then," her voice sounded more cheery and suddenly her hands were on his shoulders and she shoved him back on the bed. He didn't have time to react before she'd straddled him, smiling down at him as her hands ran underneath the shirt to the sides of his ribs.

He wanted to argue, he wanted to complain, he wanted to push her off, push her away. He wanted to do to her what he did to everyone else, reject her. But he couldn't. Something about the look on her face and the feeling of her pressed against him, her thighs against his hips, he couldn't do it.

She leant forwards, her hair cascading across his chest - he had to bite his lip to keep from making a noise - she kissed his collarbone. In fact she kept kissing his collarbone, moving on to bite and suck the nape of his neck, all the while starting to grind against him.

He couldn't help it, he jerked against her slightly, beginning to respond to her. "Finally," he heard her mutter against his skin, which was pretty hot to him.

He started to grind back, moving up into her. Her breathing got heavier as she then moved down his neck and back to his chest, she seemed to really like it there. Her hands started their own path, exploring him in full. First, she ran her fingers through his hair, tugging softly as she sucked on his nipple, dragging her teeth against it gently.

Then her hands moved to his shoulders, where she pulled him up for just long enough to pull his shirt the rest of the way off, before shoving him back down. Spreading her fingers out she moved down to his hips, sliding to just barely slip under the waistband of his trousers.

That really encouraged him and he grind into her harder, her breaths shortening and coming faster. She moved down to his butt, which she gripped hard with one hand, the other sliding down his thigh.

His own hands timidly moved to touch her, resting on her waist. He wasn't sure how to proceed, it'd been a long time since he'd done this and he'd never done it with a woman so dominant. His hands moved up her waist to stop at her ribs, his thumbs brushed the side of her breasts through the fabric of her prison uniform.

"Come on, Floyd," she purred against his chest. "You can do better than that," her hands came up his hips to his chest, which she used to push herself up, sliding her body down his so that her face was near his stomach. Here she dipped down again to drag her tongue across his abdomen, making him quiver slightly and close his eyes.

His hands slid up her back to her neck, one moving up into her hair, getting tangled in all the red curls. Never did he ever picture himself in this situation, especially not with an inmate. But he'd always pictured himself in a regular prison, if ever in one, not a high security secret government underground facility where they kept prisoners for special super secret missions. Which was a stupid way of putting it, if you asked him.

His breath hitched in his throat as she gripped his trousers, tugging them down a little so she could kiss his waistline, just below his stomach. A moan left his mouth as her chest pressed against his length, he could feel her quick heartbeat through his pants.

That spurred her on and her hand cupped him through his pants as she came up to - finally, kiss his mouth. He'd been waiting in eager anticipation for this and he immediately slid his tongue into her mouth, savoring the taste. Sweet and yet subtle, it was glorious. Their heated kiss was a clash of teeth and a battle between tongues, a battle for dominance.

He used his teeth to tug on her lip and she elicited a moan of her own, which he met eagerly with his hands slipping under her shirt, holding her bare waist.

She sat up, his disappointment was obvious this time and he groaned. She gave him a smirk, before pulling off her top, revealing a standard white bra, which he loved despite himself. Laying back down on top of him, she went back to her grinding, her hands gripping his sides. Now that there was more to feel, his hands ran all over her skin, savoring every touch.

He grasped her breasts and she moaned his name into his mouth, which just about sent him over the edge. Grinding hard against each other, he could feel himself getting harder. And so could she, because she slid off him to the ground, where she discarded her pants. Her matching white boy shorts style underwear was strangely just as appealing as her ordinary bra, there was something so simple about them.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and took his own pants off, stripping down to his boxers. He scooted back on the bed, leaning against the wall behind him. She climbed back onto the bed and straddled his lap, smiling at him as her lips locked onto his again.

His hand slid down between her legs and rubbed her gently, she whimpered a tiny bit and moved into his hand. "God, you're wet," he gasped as her hand started tracing the scars on his sides and back.

There was something gentle, yet wildly passionate about their actions, it was aggressive as you'd expect from trained killers, yet as tender as normal lovers would be.

Kissing the line of his jaw, she whispered, "Only for you, my love," into his ear, making his lips split into a surprising smile. The first time he'd smiled since he was shoved into her little cell.

Their arms wrapped around each other, holding the other tight and not wanting to let go. She moved her hips against him and he moved up against her, they moved in unison, in one steady rhythm of passion.

His hand lingered on her back, wanting so badly to unclasp her bra, but he didn't. They were still in a prison, there were cameras watching them twenty four seven and he didn't want to expose her in any shape or form. If he was going to see all of her, he wanted it to be in private, he wanted to be the only one.

She made a small whine and pulled back. "Floyd," she pouted, her palms flattening against the small of his back. But he shook his head, before throwing a look at the camera attached to the ceiling. She followed his gaze and made a face at the camera.

Turning back to him, she kissed him softly, giving his lip a tug. "Did I ever tell you how noble you are?" she muttered, tracing patterns with her finger on his shoulder.

He chuckled. "I'm really not. And the next thing I say is going to prove it."

Her eyes sparked with curiosity and more than a bit of lust. "What's that?"

His gaze mirrored hers and he whispered. "You missed a few names."

She grinned at him and then kissed his nose. "Let's finish what we're doing here, then I'll get your back," she giggled. He was cute, she decided, in a rough sort of way. Not the normal kind, she liked that about him.

Going back to their steady pace, they kept going until she started to quiver ever so slightly and he knew she was close. He moved harder against her and eventually she climaxed, moaning loudly into his mouth, she leaned her head on his shoulder and he kissed just below her ear, which made her trill happily.

He laid down on the bed, still holding her in his arms until they both dozed off, content. They were woken by the sound of the door opening and they jolted up, Carrie stretching carefree as Amanda Waller walked in. Everything about her was as taut as usual, except the tiniest hint of a smirk.

"I hope you both learned your lesson," she said in a flat tone. "Now get dressed, you've got a new mission."

As the two climbed off the bed and started getting dressed, Waller explained the mission, finishing with. "And the security's extremely high grade, so our contact with you will be limited."

Carrie exchanged a look with her teammate, who was buttoning his shirt and she smirked. "I'm sure we'll manage."

"Good, any questions?"

Floyd nodded. "Just the one, what're the hotel rooms like?"

A heavy sigh left Waller's lips and she said. "Two beds, but you'll probably just need the one."

Another look was exchanged, along with a wink and then the two went to gather their things. No longer Floyd and Carrie, the passionate lovers. But now they were Deadshot and Cupid, and oh how eager they were to learn just how passionate those two could be.

Well I had fun with that. 8D

I hope you enjoyed it, please stick around for the next one!