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Moving blows. Even with Cisco's powers, moving blows. Finding a place big enough for himself and Harry with two spare bedrooms - one for Jesse, one dedicated to superheroing - was difficult enough. He tried to breach all of his things and half of Harry's to their new house, the first non-temporary piece of property Cisco has ever had his name on, but neighbors keep showing up with pie and lemonade.

Cisco can't use his powers in front of the Ramirez's or Mrs. Cooper and the teacup pup she carries with her everywhere. They might stop bringing baked goods. The puppy might not let Cisco pet him.

They might not, of course. Especially if Harry keeps carrying in boxes from the lab van with his black t-shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing all of those corded arm muscles and every ripple when they roll under salt sweat skin. Honestly, Cisco is sure ogling Harry is one of the main motivations for their neighbors 50’s sitcom hospitality.

It doesn't bother him. Cisco can't fault the sisters across the street for sitting on their porch with tea and fans while Harry does manly moving and fix it up things. Cisco is doing the same. There's nothing to even be jealous of. Cisco is the one who gets to feel all that lean power under his tongue, who gets to fall asleep wrapped up in it. And Harry barely even looks at anyone else when Cisco is in his atmosphere.

“Are you gonna help, Ramon?” Harry asks as he kicks the door closed. His arms are asphalt solid and hot around a box.

Cisco admires them openly and takes a sip of sangria. “I'm helping. I made drinks.”

“You made booze.” Harry glances at their digital clock. “It's 3:30.”

“I have a hard life, Harry.”

He drains the rest of his drink, tilting his head so Harry gets the full show of his throat fluttering. Cisco is a thoughtful boyfriend like that. Makes sure he gives Harry something pretty to look at. To come home to.

When he sets the glass on the table, Harry's eyes have narrowed. Cisco grins.

“Why don't you take a break from showing off your show off muscles and have a drink with me? I'll get it. Just come sit down.”

Harry eases the box onto the floor, wrinkles barely creasing with the effort. His mouth does open, a huffy breath leaving him, and Cisco knows that look like he knows the molecules of the multiverse. Knows it in his bones.

Everything in him starts coiling for the fight. Anticipation rolls knuckle warm in his belly. For all of Harry's new found balance, he’s still ridiculously easy to rile into pushy and competitive and overwhelming. Easy for Cisco, anyway.

“Show muscles?” Harry rasps, stepping forward, flexing. Cisco shifts on the couch, spine straightening with the bite to fight, dick flushing hard in the STAR Lab sweats he stole from one of Harry's boxes of clothes. “You think these are just for show?”

“Don't feel bad. I get it. Nothing wrong with wanting to beef up aesthetically. Especially now that you have such a pretty young thing on your well toned arms - ”

Harry curls one hand over the couch arm and the other on the couch rest, just by Cisco's head, stretching his muscles taut and forcing Cisco to face the mix of cologne and sweat and summer with a watering mouth. Cisco doesn't bother pretending he's not thinking about sinking his teeth into Harry's bicep.

“You know first hand these aren't for show.”

“Do I?” Cisco runs his fingernails over Harry's summer warm arms, stroking from shoulder to wrist. Harry's eyes flutter closed. It's heady enough that Cisco gives in easy. He tilts his head to mouth over Harry's forearms. “You've never really done anything with them. Never beat me at arm wrestling.”

Harry laughs. He stumbles from play fighting into open smiles, open mouth kisses, and it makes Cisco's chest ache. Every moment he hoped and screamed and pushed for Harry to find this light, to find this easier joy, he never thought it would be with him. Now he can't get enough.  

When Harry leans in to kiss him, he leans his head as far back against the couch cushion as he can. Harry doesn't quite pout.

“You never fucked me against a wall.”

The words draw Harry's gaze to his mouth. Harry licks his lips. He drifts closer but doesn't try to kiss Cisco again.

“I fucked you in the shower this morning. That doesn't count?”

Cisco wraps his hands around Harry's arms, fingers digging trenches in the solid flesh. He can't help the urge to grip and hold, to squeeze. Liquor heat starts lapping at him, spilling out, sliding his touch from the red marks he just planted to Harry's sweaty warm hair.

“No,” Cisco breathes. “You weren't holding me up. I pretty much did all the work.”

“I wouldn't know what that's like.”

Cisco bites the tease out of Harry's voice by biting Harry's wrist. He knows it's a little too sharp from Harry's wince and soothes the sting with a kiss.

“Sorry.” He drags his tongue along the pale of Harry's forearm. “I just - “

Harry kisses away the clumsy admission. His mouth is cinnamon warm and when Cisco unfurls his tongue to taste Harry's lower lip, he tastes sweat and salt and summer. Cisco moans into it. Harry leans his body weight into the kiss, makes it deeper and wetter until Cisco is squeezing his arms again. The sloppy slide and the flex of Harry's muscles under Cisco's palms have him panting for it, so easy it'd be embarrassing if Harry didn't cup his flushed wet dick through his sweats.

Cisco thrusts against the pressure, only for Harry to curve his palm from Cisco's heat to Cisco's thigh.

“Come on, then,” Harry pants against his mouth. “To the bedroom. I'll show you just what these show muscles can do.”

They smile, breathless and hopeless and in sync. Cisco presses his palm flat to Harry's stomach, enjoying the roll of abs before pushing Harry back. He leads Harry by the hand through the hallway - their hallway. Harry presses almost too close behind him to move, but they manage to fall into bed without any major or humiliating injuries.

Harry settles at the edge of the bed while Cisco's eager fingers push his sweats and briefs off. He swipes Harry's favorite flavor of lube, chocolate cherry, and watches Harry's fingers claw at the comforter.

“You wanna do the honors?” Cisco asks as he leans against the array of expensive, Heavenly pillows Harry brought from Earth 2. He brings his legs up, knees practically at his ears, because modesty is unbecoming and Harry can never keep his touch or tongue to himself when Cisco is spread oil like in front of him.

Harry's predator gaze settles on him, roams, spreads him farther open. Cisco gets his fingers slick and glides his touch over his skin, between it, letting lube drizzle from his fingers over his ass. It lures Harry closer.

“No. Gotta save my arm strength.” Harry says it like it hurts to say.

Cisco soothes the ache by working two fingers into himself. He closes his eyes, head falling back, and his stomach doesn't pull self conscious or guilt raw from selfishness. Harry likes to see him feel good. Let go.

When Cisco is up to three fingers, Harry slides on his stomach to settle closer to the show. He licks and sucks at Cisco's thigh, then rests his cheek against the little bruise that will blossom fresh tomorrow, watching wet mouthed as Cisco fucks himself open.

“You really - think you can - fuck me standing up?” Cisco teases as he teases himself. “Think - you can keep me up, old man?”

Harry bites him harder. Cisco arches into Harry's teeth and his own fingers. “You're easy to keep up. I think you're gonna tap out before me, Buttercup.”

Cisco manages to stop stretching himself long enough to raise his eyebrow. Before he can tease anything back, Harry surges like a wave, crashing in on him, pushing Cisco's fingers past the knuckle until Cisco is gasping around them.

“Tell me when you're ready for it,” Harry growls against his cheek.

Cisco swallows one more spit slick kiss before saying, “Bring it on.”

Everything happens in a blur of desperation. One breath Cisco has the bed and Harry holding him steady; the next, it's just Harry, who's managed to lose his pants and work a condom over his dick. Cisco silently grieves over not getting to tongue at the head of it, lick the bitter bead of pre-come and pant it into Harry's mouth.

His sorrow is lifted when Harry bends. Their eyes are locked air tight as Harry grips the back of his thighs, too tight, hard enough to sting. Cisco's cock leaks between their t-shirts.

“Put your legs around my waist and your arms around my neck. Hold on tight.”

“Don't worry. I'm big enough to ride the ride.”

Harry rolls his eyes through a smile. Cisco takes a breath that is equal shudders of anticipation and fuck, please. He wraps himself around Harry until he's plastered against the wall and against Harry, held between his house and his home. His wrists come together behind Harry's neck. He breathes heavy against Harry's jaw.

He's let Harry pick him up before. There's never been the promise of coming his brains out with it, though. Cisco squeezes his thighs around Harry at the jolt of hot yes more that sparks him buzzing.

Harry inhales. “Your legs. Your thighs.” Fingers dig in and Cisco aches into them.”Always feel so good around me.”

They kiss again, finding each other easy and wet. Cisco doesn't want to ever be anywhere else. He's not going to say it; he's going to tease Harry, cajole him into dicking Cisco as deep as he can, but Harry bites his lip and beats him to it.

“Think you're ready, baby?” Before Cisco can taunt back, Harry is fucking him.

Cisco loosens a moan that lightens his entire body. Like all the need weighing him hot escapes, leaving him easier to hold up and keep still and fuck into. His head falls back against the wall with a thud. It hurts, dull, but it's nothing against the ache of spreading his thighs and clenching around Harry's dick. Nothing ever is.

“Feel so good, Cisco, you - still so tight for me.”

Cisco seizes from his soul to his god damn toes at the rasped, breathy praise. His thighs and fingers and ass squeeze around Harry and Harry just - his head falls forward and his next thrust is enough to knock Cisco's head on the wall.

“Do that again,” Harry tells him. Gasps at him. “Squeeze. Tighter.”

“Told you I'm not - doing all the work this time. Fuck, Harry - "

Harry speeds up. Theoretically Cisco knows how, but watching Harry's arms burn and clench and swell, Cisco has no idea how Harry can hold him like this. Not only up but open, spread wide and slippery wet with lube. He has no clue how Harry can jack hammer into him, fucking in hard, and fast, and controlled.

“Cisco. Do it. Come on, do it for me.”

Cisco closes his eyes against the onslaught of pornography. Harry's muscles, arms, voice, practically beatific expression. He clenches his entire body against everything Harry is filling him up with.

Harry says his name again, says it like a curse, and fucks him harder.

Nothing short of a whimper leaves Cisco's open throat. He can't help it. Harry's dick curves just right, spreads him just wide enough to leave him trembling. Most of the time, Cisco fights to give as good as he gets, and he does. But with Harry's arms around him and Harry's cock slamming him sloppy and sore, he feels like he's doing pretty well to just hang on.

“Close,” Harry grits, and that's - Cisco frowns.

“Already?” Cisco tries to tease but it manifests as a whine. He can't help that it's too soon. He can't give this up yet, addicted to the way Harry is holding him open and taking him apart.

Harry grunts on a sharp thrust. “This is really - fucking - working for me.”

Cisco smiles into the next press of Harry's hips. “Yeah?” he pants. Harry's response is a cavernous moan. “Then don't come yet.”

“Easy - for you to say,” Harry groans. But he slows down.

Cisco rewards him by squeezing again. Harry's spine jolts and he fucks in as if on impulse, deep and rough. He stills completely after that.

In the silence, Cisco finds his bravado. “Don't I feel good, Harry? Don't you want this to last?”

Harry’s response is to rock into him, too gentle, but still enough for Cisco’s cock to hurt with the wet, needy ache to come.

“Yes,” Harry says after taking a breath. He leans in, inhaling Cisco’s skin, and mouths at Cisco’s pulse. “No.”

“No?” Cisco echoes. “This too much for you already, baby?”

Harry’s teeth scrape across his neck. Cisco tilts into it, gives Harry every inch of throat to taste and mark. He ignores the urge to clench around Harry’s dick. Now that he isn’t bouncing between it and the wall, emptiness is unfurling through his limbs. The fingers of dull pain rub at him. But if Harry hits that sweet spot just a few more times, Cisco is going to soak both of their shirts with his moans and sweat and come. And he doesn’t want that. Not yet.

“Tell me.” Cisco uncurls trembling fingers to pet the nape of Harry’s neck. Harry is still pressed face flush into him, forehead on his shoulder - Harry’s spot. “Tell me why it’s so good. Then you can fuck me however you want. However fast. However hard. And you can fill me up.” Harry presses bruises into his thighs and gnaws at his collar bone. Cisco leans his head back, lets Harry have his fill. “Just tell me.”

“You,” Harry starts. He readjusts, shifting his hips, dragging his dick over that sparking spot that makes Cisco slam his eyes shut and grasp for the least sexy thing he can imagine to resist spilling all over himself. “Having you - feeling you, all around me. I can feel your thigh muscles flex every time I fuck you.”

Harry demonstrates by fucking him. It’s slow, and deliberate, and a painful tease that has Cisco shuddering. He can feels his legs shudder, hear how good it feels for Harry in the way Harry moans into his mouth.

“That’s good, Harry.”

Cisco catches him in a messy kiss. Harry gets his tongue as deep as his dick and Cisco just pants, stretched so open he can’t keep anything in. When Harry pulls away, there’s a sticky, shiny string of spit between them. Cisco feels helpless at the sight. Harry licks into him again.

“More,” Cisco pants when Harry pulls away for air. His brain is so fuzzy and his skin is so slick with sweat and need, he isn’t quite sure what he’s asking for, if he’s demanding or begging. The line is always so thin between he and Harry.

“Love how you have to just - fucking take it.” Harry presses in, a shallow thrust that has something dark in Cisco twisting for Harry to just kiss him stupid and fuck him shaky already. “You’re always trying to give. Always trying to take care of me. But you can’t like this, can you? Just gotta - just gotta let me give it to you.”

Cisco bites his lip. He tries to rock his hips, tries to swallow up more of Harry’s cock, but he’s trapped, shuddering. A blurt of pre-come smears against Harry’s t-shirt.

Despite every strain, Harry grins. He picks up the pace again. It’s still steady but it’s still slow, still easy. Cisco chokes on it.  

“Wanna hear what - what I like best about fucking you against a wall?” Harry rasps. Cisco almost shakes his head no. Almost denies himself what he asked for because he’s pretty sure at this point Harry’s gravel paved voice curling around his dick will finish him. “Cisco? Baby?”

“Yeah. Yeah, tell me.”

Harry leans in. He flicks his tongue against the shell of Cisco’s ear and fuck, Cisco is so close he wants to dig his teeth into the meat of Harry’s bicep and let go. Let everything loose and messy and wild.

“You’ve never come on my dick before.” Harry scrapes the words across Cisco’s ears, his neck. Cisco anchors his hold onto Harry’s body for dear life. “Gotten close - fuck - but. You’ve never done it. You look like you’re going to.”

Cisco tries to shake his head, but Harry gnaws at all of Cisco’s threads, unravels them with the next hard thrust of his hips.

“You love this,” Harry breathes. “Look at you. Practically - you’re practically - you are. Panting for it. Look how close you are. I haven’t even touched your dick and - and look how close you are. How close are you?”

“Harry.” He gets a hand around himself, ignoring Harry’s growl, laser focused on the way Harry hauls him even harder on his dick. “Harry, you can come. I want you to. I want you to - ”

Cisco isn’t actually sure which of them fall apart first. He falls apart the most. A few rough, dry twists of his hand and hot ropes of come soak Harry’s shirt, the strip of flat belly that’s revealed from where the fabric has ridden up. Cisco watches the mess spill with half lidded eyes.

Then he’s being eased onto shaking legs. He honestly isn’t sure that he can stand, but he manages to straight his knees and lean most of his shuddering weight onto Harry’s chest. Harry’s palms come up to his shoulders, guiding him, holding him steady, until he can collapse face first onto the bed.

Harry laughs. But he falls in next to Cisco a moment later. Cisco can hear his heavy breathing. It’s a satisfying sound.

“Told you that you couldn’t fuck me against a wall,” Cisco mutters, practically breathless, into the comforter.

Harry slaps his ass. “I love you too, Buttercup.”

When Cisco raises his head, he sees Harry lying mirror to him, eyes closed, smile on his face. Cisco scoots closer. He doesn’t say the words back. He doesn’t need to.