Jaime hated the Flash Museum. That probably said something less than complementary about his ego. But there was something ugly and unwelcoming in the spotless golden halls and towering monuments to generation after generation after generation of speedsters. It was an insistent angry reminder that Bart came from a pack that dated back to the first caped and cowled crusaders. An elite superhero family. He, in contrast, was an accident that’d never meant to inherit the Blue Beetle persona, never met his predecessor, nor had any serious kind of reputation despite being on the Teen Titans. He was a peasant walking into a castle to beg the hand of a prince.
A prince lazily popping blue bubblegum, wearing a sleeveless shirt that gaped scandalously open under the arms, and brandishing bright green nails on his left hand. A prince that admitted he was a kleptomaniac. A prince that was literally buzzing with sweet smelling sexual excitement as he sensed Jaime’s crumbling resolve. A prince that was cheeky, sexy, overwhelming, fun, gorgeous, frustrating, wild, perfect, and wanted him. He really wanted him. Bart wanted him. It hadn’t been a lie.
Walking out of the building had been like walking along the edge of a knife; every moment teetering towards a decision he knew he should be putting the breaks on and stopping rather than leaning greedily toward. It was only the last feeble shred of his sanity clinging at a ridiculous notion of nobility that stopped him from kissing Bart then and there. So he walked out and pretended he wasn’t putting off the inevitable. Because it was inevitable. He knew how this would end. He had known he would let this omega reel him in right to the damning end the moment he saw the stolen brownies in his locker. He’d been doomed from the start. And he’d known it.
But he hadn’t known what it would be like to feel the omega wriggle between him and the wall. Skin hot and vibrating. Lips salty sweet. Hair soft and tangled. Body slim but firm. Hips… ay Dios those hips. He hoisted the omega up higher so he could better feel the flare of bone cantering out to runner’s thighs and a small sculpted arse. Tight, hot, and quivering through the shape of Bart’s shorts. Squirming. Bart was squirming and gasping in delight as he deepened the kiss and tongued ravenously at the inside of Jaime’s mouth. Whatever he tasted there he evidently liked. A lot.
Just that knowledge had Jaime ripping at the omega’s clothes, grasping flesh, and groping greedily lower under the rim of his shorts.
“Wait!” Bart pulled his face away from him with a messy giggle. His hair was a mess, cheeks burning red, and the contours of his body out of focus as shivered at super speed. So fucking gorg— “I think I swallowed my gum.”
A ragged breath. “No you didn’t,” Jaime told him, voice little more than a needy scrape of sound.
“Huh? How do you know?”
He blew and burst a bright blue bubble of gum in answer.
“Oh, that’s hot,” Bart screwed up his face. “Or is it gross? Yeah, actually I’m going to go with gross. That’s gross. But in the hot kind of way.”
“If you didn’t want gross gum why’d you pick this flavour?” Jaime accused. His hands were still on Bart’s hips; fingers snaking below the line of his shorts. The skin he found there was hot, soft, and tight over lean muscle.
“Why?” The omega tilted his head back teasingly. “I, uh, was going at like mach seven. I wasn’t going to slow down to read a label, Blue.”
He tried not to smile at that. “You stole it, ese?”
Quickly. “You stole it. From me.”
“Where did you steal it from?”
“The Flash Museum Kiosk,” the speedster admitted and pressed his pelvis against Jaime. “Which, by the way, would totally thank me for taking a tiny portion of the un-sellable bubblegum off their shelf. Think of it like a liberation. Scavenging. I’m offsetting the waste. Mother Teresa would probably agree with me. Gandhi defiantly would. Superman… might?” A lingering pause as Jaime felt the omega’s erection hard against his own. “I have a problem. With stealing that is.”
Jaime growled in agreement, voice husky as he yanked Bart’s shorts off his hips and stepped back. Bart dropped from where he’d been pinned against the wall. Jaime kept a hold of him. Wasn’t willing to break that hold for even a second least Bart disappear. Couldn’t seem to stop exploring the planes of pale flesh even if he wanted to. Even if a small voice in his head was telling him he shouldn’t.
Bart took the chance to kick off his shorts and Jaime’s eyes raked down over newly exposed territory. All Bart wore now was his shirt. Flimsy, light, and twisted so far one nipple poked from the hem-less fabric. Below that his bottom half was completely bare. He hadn’t been wearing underwear, Jaime realised with a jolt of heat that went straight to his already aching cock. This omega is going to be the death of me.
He’d paid for the cheapest nearby hotel room in cash and Bart had run up the side of the building and wriggling through an impossibly narrow window with a brand new box of condoms held between his teeth. It all felt tacky and low grade for his stolen forbidden prince but Bart had already eaten everything in the mini fridge and bounced on the bed hard enough to hit the ceiling with a loud thump and a whoop of delight. All of it in the seconds before Jaime caught him again.
Bart rocked up onto his toes to reconnect the kiss, stole back the gum, and spat it into a bin as Jaime walked them towards the bed. They didn’t make it. Somehow they stopped, stumbled, and then Bart was on his knees before him. He looked down in amazement as the omega folded his arms behind his back and threw back his head with a knowing devilish grin on his face. Oh. He was kneeling. The submitting kind of kneeling. The take me kind of kneeling. The kind of kneeling omegas did to alphas.
Jaime was suddenly very aware that he’d never done this with an omega before. Or a boy. He was sixteen when he first had sex with Brenda; a beta and a girl. When they broke up he only had one other fling; another female beta. With betas the dynamic was different. With girls the anatomy was different. It hadn’t occurred to him before but suddenly he felt grossly inexperienced.
Bart had done this before. With male alphas. He had experience and, more terrifying, had expectations. He was kneeling and expecting something from Jaime. Something dominant. Something alpha.
Bart whined and Jaime heard himself growl – the sound drenched with animalistic approval – in response. That seemed to be enough. Bart shuddered with delight, looped his fingers in the waist of Jaime’s pants, and mouthed at him hungrily through the fabric as his yanked at the clothing.
“Ah, no,” he gasped and pushed Bart off him. He was too hard. If Bart did that he would come, knot, and that would be it. He would end this before they even really had a chance to start. His cock was already throbbing and leaking between his legs, balls painfully tight, and bulge embarrassingly obvious through his jeans. No matter what happened he wasn’t going to last long once he got any kind of friction. And the place he wanted to find that friction was not the omega’s mouth.
Bart’s brow pleated. “No?”
“Present yourself.” He gave the order without thinking and realised how grossly forward it was. Just because Bart had chosen to kneel didn’t mean he would be willing to assemble more sexual submissive postures let alone be happy to be told—Bart made a desperate beautiful sound, pulled his own shirt over his head, and obeyed.
The sight was beyond comparison. Bart Allen naked was an arched artistic masterpiece of shape and form. Thin enough the cage of his ribs was visible on every exhale, fit enough lean corded muscle pressed against pale flesh, and aroused enough that his cock stood sharp and pink between his legs. He was on his knees and forearms, back arched, and legs apart; assuming a more explicit submissive posture. The devilish grin was back, body buzzing, and the scent. Unbridled of all garments Bart’s sweet spicy omega allure filled the air unchecked. Coloured with the explicit almost muggy aroma of his opening glittering wet with slick.
All of it invited – demanded – he mount him.
I felt oddly old fashioned for the time traveller but Jaime couldn’t help but groan at the idea. Of being over, around, inside the small shaking speedster. He was shedding his clothes before he realised what he was doing, rolling on a condom the next instant, and climbing on top of the shuddering body a moment later.
The condom saved him.
If he had entered the hot, tight, vibrating boy bare he would have come instantly. As it was the thin latex skin lent him just enough control to bury himself in him in one long thrust.
Green nails dug into the carpet, knees shifted further apart, and mouth opened to let out a pained whine that melted into a needy purr.
He thrust into him again. Skin slapped sharply on skin. Bart rewarded him with another ragged wonderful sound. Soon he was humping mindlessly into the warm wetness, clutching that perfect narrow waist, and sinking his teeth into Bart’s shoulder in a desperate bid to keep his nose and mouth away from the forbidden spot on his neck. All the while Bart gasped, whined, and even giggled as he arched to kiss him over his shoulder.
“I think I…” he was telling Bart too soon. He knew it was too soon. Way too soon. But… “I’m…”
“Hold on,” the omega hissed. “Just hold on a sec…”
Bart thrust back. Once. Twice. Jaime could just make out the third time before the movement was lost to his eyes. Bart was rocking back, impaling himself on him, and doing it so fast all Jaime could see was a blur of motion.
Yes… Khaji Da said. So softly he couldn’t be sure he really heard it or if it was just his imagination. A fleck of madness as his cock was used, worked, and stimulated to agonising pleasure. Yes…
Bart slammed back into him seconds later with a cry loud enough and shake fierce enough it could only mean orgasm. His cheeks redder, skin sweatier, and breathing leagues more wrecked than it had been a moment before. He’d brought himself off, Jaime realised. He’d brought himself off on him. He’d done it in more than one way too because he could smell semen. How long had that second been for Bart? A minute? Five? Thirty? Jaime couldn’t find it in himself to care as he pushed once more into the omega – winning a final wanton cry – and came.
He’d only ever knotted someone once before. It had taken him months to talk Brenda into the suggestion but once they were tied she spent the better part of it loudly informing him what a terrible idea this had been. Afterwards – in a more polite tone of voice – she had told him it wasn’t something she enjoyed. He’d accepted that. He liked betas and accepted that the price of a relationship with one was likely no knots. Most betas didn’t like the sensation of being tied. Omegas, on the other hand, were in possession of the opposite aligned pleasure centre and were decorated with instincts that would make them as well as their bodies receptive to a knot. Unlike Brenda when he knotted Bart, for the first time since he’d known the omega, he didn’t say a word. The boy groaned, eyelids fluttered, and body slumped. Jaime caught him and rolled them onto their sides. Found himself kissing Bart’s cheek as the omega blinked wearily out at the world with gaping pupils.
“Are you okay, ese?”
A flutter of a smile. “So…” his eyes drifted closed. “…crash.” Shoulders shivered with prolonged pleasure.
He let the omega sleepily relish the feel of their tie and started gently exploring the lean little body locked onto his shaft. Bart made a soft purring sound when he threaded fingers through his hair, arched and squeaked as he touched and pinched pert pebbled pink nipples, and moaned in unbridled delight as Jaime found his cock.
When his knot went down a little over half an hour later Bart rolled off him and sat up; shifting his weight uncomfortably until he settled on his side.
“Sorry, el mano,” Jaime muttered guiltily. “That wasn’t…”
Bart’s eyebrow arched toward the mattered hair slumped across his face. “Seriously? Wasn’t it?” A breathless laugh. “God, I would love to see it when it is. Mm. Good thing I brought a whole box of condoms then. Real good I got the large size ‘cuz, Blue, you are hung. Like, really, I’m not just saying that. I’m still feeling it and with as fast as I heal that’s… God that was good. I am officially in love with your cock. Once I turn sixteen I’m going to go get myself onto something so I can bareback that thing because fuck.”
Jaime felt his cock twitch back towards life at the mere idea.
“But, you know, please don’t tell any of my pack about this. Not even Wally.”
“Eh, ese,” he sat up slowly, almost nervously. “What exactly is this?”
“Sex,” Bart answered.
“Unless you want to ask me out.” His smile was sharp, playful, and slightly earnestly hopeful. “You could fly me around, I could eat your food, and we could talk about the future. Maybe not even talk about the bad future. Just, you know, our future.” He shuffled towards him. Slim, softly speckled, and smelling of sex. “What do you say? Want to do couple-y stuff with me?”
“Yeah,” Jaime said, reached forward, and pulled the omega onto his lap. “I want that. I want you.” Kissed him.
Bart groaned in his mouth. Whispered as their lips separated. “And sex. Sex I really want to keep having sex with you. A lot of sex. Even if I am still fifteen.”
“Okay,” Jaime heard himself promise. He’d already damned himself. Already bought this ticket to hell. “But we got to keep it a secret, ese. From everyone.” Didn’t want that ticket to jail.
“I though we were done with secrets,” Bart teased.
A hoarse bark of laughter. “No. You’re my dirty little secret until you turn sixteen.”
“Sí.” He grabbed Bart’s hair and pulled him possessively against him so he could whisper in the omega’s ear. “I’m going to take you out where no one knows us, I’m going give you everything you want, and then I’m going to fuck you.”
Bart shuddered. “Fuck that’s h—”
“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget about all those other alphas and I’m going to do it every time your pack’s not looking. And no one will know. Not your pack, not the team, and not your friends. They’ll all wonder where you are all the time but never guess I’m fucking you.”
When he let go Bart was shaking again, staring at him with fierce sparkling excitement, and showing his neck. Submitting greedily to the idea. “Oh boy,” a tight, eager, whisper. “I got you, Jaime Reyes. I got you.” Breathless. “I thought you’d slipped through my fingers for a while there but I got you. I got you good.”
He smiled. “Sí, cariño. And I got you back.”