Once is more than enough.
Or so he thinks.
He was never much of one for repeat performances. Repetition breeds familiarity, after all, and with that comes a false sense of security.
It isn’t much anyway.
Just a kiss, fuelled by the thrilling sense of newfound freedom. From prison. From his father.
From everything, just about…
Barry Allen finds him wandering home from Saints and Sinners, having spent his first fifty bucks since his escape on alcohol until he could no longer see straight or remember the horrified look on Lewis’ face. He knew the kid would find him eventually, but he’d honestly been expecting an earlier encounter, not at 3am in some narrow alleyway, forgetting for a moment where the hell he is and how far he was from the nearest safe house.
Barry doesn’t try to touch him at first. Instead, he stops a few paces in front of Len with his hands on his hips and a thin-lipped expression of disappointment slapped across his pretty little face.
“Snart,” the kid says.
“Flash,” Len returns, not so far gone as to spoil Barry’s secret for him. “Did you miss me?”
“It’s like you were never gone,” Barry mutters, pacing slowly forward. Louder then, he says, “Be honest: if I run with you, do you think you’ll vomit?”
“That depends…How far are we running?”
Barry shakes his head. “I don’t know. How far from here do you imagine Iron Heights is?”
Len reaches out for him then, because his vision is swimming, and for a moment there’s two Barry’s standing there, silhouetted by the oily light from the solitary street lamp at the mouth of the alley. The boy tenses at first, but doesn’t shove Len away when his hand lands heavily on the kid’s left shoulder, letting the man use him as a crutch only so he doesn’t end up face first on the pavement.
“Snart…” he sighs.
“Barry,” he says softly. “You’re not taking me back to prison.”
“You know the rules.”
“And you know my circumstances.”
It’s hard to tell in the dark, but it looks as though Barry is squinting at him now. “…You’re freakishly smooth for a stiff, you know that?”
“I am pretty stiff, now that you mention it,” he quips—a horrible joke, but one that needed to be said, given the way the corner of Barry’s lip twitches in the barest hint of amusement.
“That was…really inappropriate.”
His raises his other hand to Barry’s right shoulder then, closer to the kid’s neck. Feels him tense under his touch, but they both know full well that the fastest man alive is more than capable of batting him away if he really felt all that uncomfortable.
“Just one night,” Len murmurs, enjoying the way Barry’s eyes widen marginally in surprise. He pauses for a second and then elaborates: “One night in a real bed instead of a prison cot. Please?”
“Pft” Barry snorts. “Will you still be there in the morning?”
He won’t be, most likely, but he’s enjoying the kid’s unintentional double entendres too much to have a half-way serious conversation right now, so instead he says, “Depends on how open you are to morning sex,” before slipping his hand around the back of Barry’s head and drawing him in for a kiss.
He’s honestly surprised the kid lets him.
Barry gasps, which is cute, and which parts his lips just enough. Opportunist that he is, Len dives right in with a slow swipe of his tongue, a little lost over the softness and the warmth and the small sound Barry makes at the back of his throat as Len tilts his head to better slot their mouths together.
Drunk or not, Len doesn’t miss the way Barry then tilts his own head to accommodate the kiss—but just as suddenly then Barry jerks his head away, seeming to remember who exactly he’s locking lips with and why that might be a phenomenally bad idea. “Snart—no.”
“ ‘Len’ ,” he replies, allowing Barry his small retreat, even if he doesn’t remove his hands. “And is that a ‘no’ to the morning sex, or a ‘no’ to everything?”
Barry quite literally rolls his eyes.
Then he feels vaguely sick.
Barry finally takes a step back, but he keeps a hand on Len’s arm to steady him as he wobbles on his feet. “Okay, whoa, one night—in a normal bed, I mean. But only because you haven’t stolen anything. Yet. …Have you?”
Len shakes his head. Then promptly regrets it as his world tilts precariously on its side.
“Right then. Okay, okay, okay…” Somewhat antsy, Barry glances up and down the alleyway. “Where are we going? Where’s your nearest safe house?”
Len laughs under his breath.
“…There’s no way in hell I’m taking you to one of my haunts,” Barry clarifies, sounding a little fed up. “So, either I drop you off at one of yours or you sleep this off strapped to a cot in S.T.A.R. Labs. Your choice.”
He’s always been amused with the way Barry isn’t afraid to push back. Clearly, he’s a kind and generous young man, but there’s only so much hassle he’s willing to take from Len before his patience wears thin, and that little flicker of attitude only makes Len want to steal another kiss…
Except, he really is about ready to vomit, so he rattles off the address of a dingy little apartment he camped out in one time long before the Flash came to Central City, and then completely loses the contents of his stomach after Barry whisks him to the location in the blink of an eye.
Barry, blessedly, doesn’t say another word. Just disappears in a brief burst of light before returning with a glass of water in hand. Silently, Len accepts it from him.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Barry says quietly. Then he pats Len awkwardly on the shoulder and vanishes completely, the wind kicking up in the room as he practically flies out the kitchen window and down the fire escape.
Len figures the kid knows he isn’t going to stay put though, so he tries not think too much on why good little Barry Allen would let him slip away in the first place as he drops heavily onto the ratty living room couch and downs the glass of water. Once his stomach has had a chance to settle, he promises himself he’s never going to drink like that again, because he isn’t Lewis and he shouldn’t feel guilty for icing the man. Then he disappears off into the night himself, stumbling the eight or so blocks between here and one of the nicer, newer safe houses.
Mick just about kills himself laughing when Len staggers through the front door, almost face planting on the entranceway floor.
Len tells the man to screw off and call his sister.
Lisa laughs at him for about a week.
She’s been doing a little sight-seeing since Len saw her last, but practically ran back to town when she got the call from Mick. She’s a bit miffed that he never asked for her assistance in his big escape, but someone on Team Flash must have filled her in on his drunken escapade a few nights ago, because she slaps him good-naturedly on the arm when she finally arrives in Central and says, “A little birdy told me you’ve been molesting our boy in red leather.”
Hunched over his workbench, carefully reassembling his cold gun, he focuses all of his energy on not rolling his eyes as he gives her a dry look.
He’s going to kill Ramon one of these days.
Lisa’s smile brightens. “Were you really too drunk to remember the com link in his hood?”
He was, actually, but he’ll never admit to that to her, because Len almost never drinks in excess and he really can’t believe Scarlet didn’t punch his lights out for kissing him like that, drunk or not drunk.
Thinking about their little encounter though doesn’t fill him with a sense of humiliation or dread, because as sketchy as his memory usually is when he’s had too much to drink, he’s 100% positive Barry leaned into that kiss. Which only means that the attraction between them is mutual. Which is great, because Len’s been trying to figure out how much of the growing tension between them was sexual since the Ferris Air Incident, and now that he knows…
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
‘Knowing’ doesn’t really matter though, because there’s no way in hell a Boy Scout like Barry Allen would ever want to sleep with the likes of him.
That’s just a fact.
Lisa, though, apparently thinks otherwise, because she plops down into the empty chair beside him, bats her eye lashes mischievously at him, and then leans in close to say, “Lenny…this is good. He let you go, didn’t he? Got reamed out by Cisco for doing that, but he knew the risks.”
“Why the hell does Ramon tell you anything?” Len mutters, and not only in an attempt to steer their conversation away from his complicated relationship with the Flash. He genuinely wants to know what that creepy little engineer is trying to get up to with his sister.
“He called me to do a little reconnaissance,” she replies, not at all phased by the low growl in his voice. “He wanted to suss out any information I might’ve had on your ‘relationship’, because supposedly the Flash is in the habit of dodging his questions now before blushing an alarming shade of red and running from the room. So…” She leans in even closer, looking oddly hopeful, like she honestly believes this messy affair is a good thing, “…have you slept with him yet?”
Len really does roll his eyes then.
“Lisa,” he sighs, trying to keep his voice level. He knows why she’s so excited for him. He hasn’t had a healthy relationship since…forever, just about. “No. Even if I had, that’s not something I would discuss with you.”
“Because I’m your sister?” She asks wirily. “Which is bullshit, because I have an in with Team Flash and I know exactly how we’re going to get you laid.”
“Somehow, I doubt your ‘in’ with Team Flash would support such an endeavour,” he says tightly.
“At the end of the day, Cisco would do anything for me,” she replies, somewhat hotly, emphasizing her irritation with a punch to the shoulder. Which hurts. “He’s a real gentleman, you know. If I ask him for a favour, he’ll probably sputter and explain why it’s a bad idea, but then he’ll crumple a little and give in, free of charge.”
Len raises an eyebrow. “Free of charge, huh?”
Finally, Lisa shifts a little uneasily in her own seat. With a small sigh she says, “Yeah…”
“…You genuinely like this guy?”
“Yeah,” she breathes again, as though it’s only really just occurred to her too. Len understands. She doesn’t exactly have a history of healthy relationships either. “It’s kind of funny, isn’t it? We’ve finally fallen for men on the opposite end of the spectrum—the right kind of men, but we’re so used to being treated like crap, we’re afraid to let ourselves be happy for once.”
Len stares down at his gun for a moment, half of the pieces still lying in their designated places on the table, a masterpiece gently pulled apart. He’s careful with all his things, because growing up he always had so little, and maybe he’s gotten a bit overprotective and greedy over time, but that’s only because he knows all too well how easily these precious things can be stolen from him.
And maybe he’s gotten a little greedy too where it concerns Barry, because meeting the kid is one of the greatest things that’s ever happened to him, and he wants him and he wants to keep him as long as he possibly can before the fun dries up and Barry remembers why befriending a villain isn’t such a good idea…
“Are you going to hurt him?”
“No,” Len says almost immediately, because he realizes then that he doesn’t want Barry to ever remember why befriending a villain isn’t such a good idea. Barry shouldn’t be afraid of him anymore, if ever he was truly afraid of Len to begin with…
“Good,” Lisa chirps, “Because if you touch so much as a hair on Cisco’s pretty little head, I’ll freeze your balls off with your cold gun and toss it in the river. Are we cool, Len?”
Len blinks in surprise, because he’d completely forgotten that Lisa was talking about Ramon for a moment there, and then he just feels mildly annoyed that she would try to use a pun on him of all people. “Oh, we’re cool, Lis…”
“Excellent.” Patting him on the arm good-naturedly, she rises from her seat and saunters toward the door. “Operation snowflake is a Go.”
“No, shut up,” she warns, pivoting suddenly on her heel, lifting a finger for silence. “First of all, we need to conduct a small test. Clear your schedule for Friday night, Len. Got it?”
Annoyed as he is, Len nods anyway. He’s learned well enough by now that arguing with her is a losing game.
Smiling, she lowers her finger. “Good… Also, remember to shave. You look kind of old with the scruff.”
Absently, he scratches at the stubble on his chin, waiting until she’s disappeared from the room before returning to his work.
It doesn’t make him look that old…
Sure enough, Friday night sees Lisa breezing into his safe house wearing her leather jacket and motorcycle helmet, tearing the latter of the two off so that she grin impishly at Len and say, “Suit up. We’re going shopping!”
Mick, who’s sitting on the couch in the corner, watching some sort of game on the television set, glances up briefly to give Len a very blank but loaded look, the kind that means he knows something weird is up but doesn’t want to get involved.
Len sighs and snatches his parka off the back of his chair. “What did you have in mind?”
Eyes sparkling, Lisa whispers, “Diamonds.”
And by ‘diamonds’ she means twelve stones that once belonged to some Hungarian princess in the early 1700s. They were being auctioned off by one of the more influential families in Central City who had fallen under hard times and were currently being held a storehouse on 52nd and 111th. The storehouse itself belonged to The White Auction House, which, unfortunately, was never really known for its stellar security system, and which made it probably the least appealing place to hit for people of Len and Lisa’s calibre.
Having said that, unless Lisa ran head on into one of the night guards, nobody would realize the diamonds were gone until the following day.
But something does go wrong, because Len is counting down the seconds before Lisa should pop out the southeast fire exit when the wind suddenly picks up where he’s leaning against his bike, kicking up specks of dirt and gravel as Central City’s darling hero skids to a halt in the middle of the alleyway.
Len resists the urge to swear under his breath.
Instead, he curls up the corner of his lip and lowers his voice before giving Barry the once-over and saying, “Scarlet.”
Even with the hood up, he can make out the most of Barry’s expression.
The kid looks pissed.
“I don’t know why,” Barry sighs, as though all of the world’s burdens are suddenly sitting square on his shoulders, “but for some reason, I expected better of you.”
Len tries not to let that solemn statement get to him.
If this was in any way a part of Lisa’s plan, then it’s obvious she has no clue what she’s doing.
Pushing up off his bike, Len takes a slow step forward, smirking, because he knows it gets on Barry’s nerves. “Are you really disappointed in me here, Scarlet, or yourself? At the end of the day, you’re the one who let a known criminal slip away.”
There’s a miniscule twitch at the corner of Barry’s mouth, like he’s about to snarl, and Len suddenly wonders if he can draw his cold gun before the kid does something incredibly stupid—but then the southeast exit doors burst open and Lisa come sauntering out, late and moving about as slow as molasses.
What’s worse is when she glances back over her shoulder at someone still inside the building and says, “Thank you, darling!” before wandering over to where Len is having yet another standoff with the Flash.
“Hello, boys!” she chirps.
Len tries not to look baffled, because he sure as hell is—as is Barry, but the looks of it, staring at the exit door in disbelief as it swings shut before tapping the com link in his hood to mutter, “I thought you said this was a robbery…”
Both Len and Lisa can hear him loud and clear though, so Lisa smiles sweetly and says, “I was just dropping off some old jewellery, hon. I donate something to the American Cancer Society for their annual auction every year.”
“At this hour of the night?” Barry asks, sceptical.
“Feel free to ask,” she replies, gesturing to the building. Then she turns away, winking at Len as she climbs over the back of her own bike, slips on her helmet, and makes a hasty retreat.
Len knows he should take up after her, but the dumbfounded look on Barry’s face is just too amusing, especially with that familiar edge of frustration, the kind Barry always has whenever the Snarts get the better of him.
Eventually though, Len knows he has to split. The kid’s only going to stand there for so long before his brain catches up with the rest of him—and, sure enough, Len’s only just swung his leg over the back of his own bike when Barry snaps out of his stupor and asks, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“No you’re not.”
Len crooks his eyebrow, challenging. “Are you arresting me?”
“…You are a man on the run.”
“That wasn’t a ‘yes’,” Len points out, wondering if the kid is genuinely tempted to let him go again. That little bit of information is very telling, because it could mean a hundred million different things, one of which could easily be that the attraction between them is indeed mutual.
Len decides to put that idea to the test by licking his top lip briefly, just enough to dampen it, because it is a bit dry. Barry’s eyes immediately track the movement before he shifts his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, like he’s upset that Len’s finally found another one of his weaknesses.
Len suddenly feels a little thrill of excitement along the length of his spine, unable to stop himself before he says, “Want a ride, Scarlet?”
Barry narrows his eyes, opening his mouth to fire off some witty retort, but he’s cut short by someone on his team as he lifts a hand to his com link again and whispers, “Say that again?”
Len can’t believe it.
Lisa really does have Ramon wrapped around her little finger.
“Are you being honest with me this time?” Barry hisses into his radio, clearly annoyed with his geeky little friend, “Because this isn’t funny…Yeah, I know…Uh-huh…What’s the address?”
Suddenly, Barry casts one last look at Len, thin-lipped, like he’s been wedged rather uncomfortably between a rock and a hard place. Then he comes to some sort of internal conclusion as he says, “Later, Snart.”
“Bye, Barry,” Len quips, just as the kid vanishes down the alleyway in a brilliant streak of light.
And he keeps on smiling, even as he pulls his helmet on, because it looks like Lisa was probably right.
Maybe he does have a chance with the kid.
Len hasn’t even had a chance to step into the apartment before Lisa is right up in his face again, eyes wide and bright and hopeful.
Len sighs. “What’s next?”
After Lisa’s laid out her brilliant plan before him, he leans back in his chair at the kitchen table and crosses his arms, tension bundling the muscles in his neck and shoulders.
“That’s not going to work,” he mutters. “The kid was very clear about not toying with his friends or family.”
“It’s not ‘toying’ if said friend or family member is in on it,” Lisa argues, idly stirring her cup of hot chocolate. “And besides, he likes it when you push the boundaries.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
She winks, which suggests that this is something else she’s discussed with Ramon. “Call it a hunch. He’s let you off the hook on two separate occasions now. Given your reputation, he shouldn’t expect anything less than trouble.”
“Lisa, there are rules—”
“—which only enhance the thrill you get from the game, I know.” Slowly, she pulls the spoon out of her cocoa, blowing on it briefly before putting it in her mouth. Len can hardly believe it, but she’s actually blushing now. “So good… I wonder where he bought it.”
“Ramon?” Len asks, somewhat bemused with the way the little freak’s managed to steal her heart. She always used to go for the bad boys, the ones who tended to take more than they were ever willing to give.
“Cisco,” she amends, rolling the name on her tongue, still blushing. “And yes, he’s in the habit of giving me sweets.”
Len doesn’t want to put a damper on her glow, so he decides right then and there that he’s not going to interfere with this little thing that’s clearly going on between the two them, and instead goes right on back to business: “If we do what you’re proposing, there’s a very good chance he’ll drag me back to prison. I’m not exactly keen on wasting any more of my time there.”
“Quit complaining,” she mutters. “It’ll work. Trust me. You just figure out the when and the where, and I’ll take care of the how. Alright, Lenny?”
He can feel a migraine mounting behind his eyes, but there’s a small part of him that gets a delicious little chill out of imagining how this whole thing could pan out. If it works…
Dear lord, if it works…
He finally uncrosses his arms, the better to brace his elbows against the table top as he leans forward in quiet contemplation. He doesn’t have to say anything, because Lisa knows this stance, knows how he usually looks when he’s genuinely interested. So she pats him sweetly on the shoulder, well aware that she’s just won, and says, “You won’t regret this, Len.”
“I hope not,” he sighs.
They wait a grand total of two weeks before putting their plan in motion, only because Lisa informs him that it bothers the boy wonder considerably when he doesn’t know what Len is up to. Cisco apparently confirms this by letting them know Barry does a quick run of the town at the end of every night, peeking into bars and empty warehouses in search of him, as though Len would be stupid enough to hide anywhere so obvious.
No, instead Len spends his time at another safe house on the outskirts of Central City, one which once belonged to the Santini family before his somewhat hostile takeover. It’s a cottage of sorts with a modern vibe, which Lisa has taken to decorating with stolen art as of late, and which Len appreciates in silence when he slips on his signature parka, climbs the stairs, and stands waiting in the master bedroom.
8pm, on the dot, he can hear someone slamming the kitchen door shut downstairs. Half a second later, Barry bursts into the bedroom, lightning cackling around his slender frame as he eyes Len warily from the doorway.
The kid looks equal parts angry and confused.
“Where is he?”
Len gives Barry the once-over before turning his attention to the oil painting of red and yellow poppies hanging above the bed. “Not here, obviously.”
“Leonard…” Barry warns, but then he trails off as he gets a better look at the painting in question. Quietly then, he asks, “Is that a Van Gogh?”
“ ‘Vase and Viscaria’ ,” Len replies, rattling off its name. “It was stolen from a museum in Egypt five years ago before I liberated it from its latest owner. It’s one of my favourites.”
“Pft,” Barry huffs. “You stole art from an art thief? I mean, of course you did. And it would be a Van Gogh, wouldn’t it…”
Unless he’s mistaken, Len highly suspects that the tension between them is easing off a little now. So Len turns his head to openly appreciate his opponent, eyes lingering on Barry’s gloriously long legs before slowly trailing up to his slender hips.
The kid’s got a body made for sin.
Which Barry is apparently well aware of, because he clears his throat and says, “Hey—eyes up here.”
Len complies with his request, smiling.
“Seriously,” Barry sighs, sounding a little worn out, “where’s Cisco? Tell me, and I’ll forget this ever happened.”
“He’s with Lisa,” Len relents, shrugging. “Alive and well, at least to my knowledge.”
“And where would that be?”
Len doesn’t answer, just keeps on smiling.
Slowly closing the distance between them, Barry reaches up to pull back his hood. He’s a bit flushed from running and his hair is a wild mess, and he looks so goddamn fuck-able it takes every ounce of Len’s self-control not to let himself reach out and touch…
Barry cocks his head to one side, eyes narrowed, obviously intrigued with this little game they’ve got going on between them despite himself. “What is it you want, Snart?”
“For starters, you can quit with the formalities,” Len replies, voice a low rumble. At this distance, he can see Barry’s pupils dilate in response. “Call me Len.”
“Alright…Len,” Barry murmurs, his own voice warm and soft. He inches ever closer. “What is it you want from me?”
“Your unconditional surrender.”
Barry crooks one of his lovely little eyebrows, smiling faintly, which crinkles the corners of his eyes in the most appealing way. The kid has a face for smiling, for laughter, for being deliriously happy—
Barry Allen is practically the embodiment of unbridled joy.
Len feels something clench inside his chest.
“My surrender, huh?” Barry muses aloud. “And if I say no?”
Len shrugs. “I’m sure my sister will release your friend when she’s had her fill of him.”
“…If I didn’t know Lisa personally, I would be really pissed right now. But since I’m sure Cisco’s having the time of his life, I suppose I’m open to negotiation…”
“There are no negotiations for an ‘unconditional’ surrender, Barry. It’s either a yes or a no.”
Barry hums a little under his breath, contemplating his options. “You would get off on catching the fastest man alive, wouldn’t you…”
“Actually, I’m trying to catch you so that I can get off,” he replies, just throwing it out there once and for all. The way Barry’s blush deepens is truly adorable.
“You and your puns,” Barry mutters, but he takes one step closer, stopping just a handbreadth away. “So…how exactly does the Flash go about surrendering to the one and only Captain Cold?”
“He has sex with him.”
Barry snorts out a laugh, caught off guard by Len’s blunt answer. “Wow, be still my racing heart…”
“Is it racing?” Len asks, because he often wonders what it must feel like for Barry when he’s going at high speed. Is his heart like a humming bird, constantly hammering against his chest? Or does Barry feel at peace with his powers, as though nothing has changed within himself at all…
“A little,” Barry admits, “but that’s to be expected. I haven’t slept with anyone since I got my powers.”
Len’s breath catches in his throat.
Barry takes this opportunity to cup the side of Len’s face gently with his gloved hand before leaning in for a kiss, feather-light and fleeting, just a tease against his lips.
“So, if I’m to understand this correctly,” the younger man continues seamlessly after they’ve parted, “if I sleep with you tonight, you’ll let my friend go free?”
“In the morning,” Len explains. “I’m sure he and my sister deserve their fun.”
“The lengths I go to for my friends…” Barry sighs, but he’s still smiling, and his hand is still pressed against the side of Len’s face like he fully intends to kiss him again. “I reserve my right to make a decision until I’ve sampled the sex though. If it’s subpar, I just might leave Cisco to his fate.”
Len licks his lips. “That’s not how an unconditional surrender works, Barry.”
“I’ve never surrendered before, so how am I supposed to know?”
“There’s a first time for everything,” Len replies as he slip an arm down and around Barry’s waist—before pivoting suddenly on his heel and tripping Barry onto the bed.
Barry gasps in surprise and very nearly knees Len between the legs, but he relaxes almost immediately, lying perfectly still beneath him until the mattress stops bouncing. “Oh—so it’s a conquest you’re after? Here I thought we were just going to have plain old sex.”
“You talk too much,” Len mutters, right before he ducks his head and kisses the fool.
Barry hums pleasantly against his lips, letting him take the lead, opening his mouth just a little as he raises a hand to cradle the back of Len’s head. He tastes a little minty, like he was chewing gum earlier in the evening, and chases Len’s tongue with practiced ease. Which, in turn, gives Len pause as he leans up and away and asks, “You’ve ever done this with a man before?”
Barry laughs. “College is a wonderful place.”
“So I’ve been told.” Barry takes this opportunity then to yank his gloves off, tossing them somewhere on the floor behind Len before raising both hands to cup either side of Len’s neck, thumbs brushing against his checks. “Even so, you’re pretty clever. It’s a pity you’re a criminal.”
Len kisses him again. Slowly. “Admit it, knowing you’re about to get fucked by a ‘criminal’ excites you.”
“Oh, it does—” Barry rolls his hips up, a very prominent bulge pressing into Len’s thigh as Barry yanks him down for yet another kiss, this one filthier than the last. Lord almighty, the things that kid can do with his tongue… “—but if you really want to know how overjoyed I am about finally getting laid, help me get this suit off.”
Len doesn’t have to be told twice. He backs off for a moment, kneeling over Barry as he tosses off his parka and yanks his own shirt over his head, before ditching both articles of clothing behind him. Barry, in the meantime, squirms out of the top part of his suit, rubbing his feet together awkwardly as he tries to kick off his boots.
Len twists around a little to grab one boot and tug it off, just as he feels Barry’s hands fumbling with the button on his pants frantically. Taking mercy on the younger man, Len finally stands up to shrug out of his jeans and boxers before reaching down and striping Barry out of the lower half of his suit—
Surprised, Len quirks an eyebrow. “You always fight in commando?”
“I can’t really run in anything but the suit,” Barry sighs. “I made the mistake of wearing my socks once. Not only does regular clothing chaff at high speeds, but it also has a tendency to catch fire.”
Len laughs a little in disbelief. Sure, it makes sense, but now he’s going to have trouble looking at Barry ever again in his suit and not remembering that the kid is completely nude under all that red leather.
Then again, after tonight, Len’s pretty sure he’s going to have a hard time not picturing Barry in the nude, period, which gets him more than a little excited at the moment, and which soon becomes abundantly clear to Barry in the way Len’s cock begins to fill out.
Barry, gorgeous boy that his is, leans up onto his elbows and openly stares between Len’s legs. Then he glances up at Len’s face and says, “Come here.”
Without missing a beat, Len climbs onto the bed. Barry shuffles backward until his head is resting against the pillows, reaching up to run his warm hands against Len’s sides as the older man presses his body down into Barry’s supple form. The kid’s skin is pale and soft to the touch, completely unmarred despite the hits Len’s seen Barry take on the battlefield.
Barry himself seems fascinated by Len’s tattoos. He traces the one on Len’s shoulder gently, completely mystified, before he licks his lips and says, “Now that I’m your prisoner, what do you plan on doing with me?”
“First, I’m going to blow you,” Len replies, voice huskier than he intended. Not that that matters much. “Then, I’m going to fuck you. Any questions?”
“You’ve got a condom?”
Len doesn’t answer. Just reaches over to the bedside table and tugs open the top drawer before pulling out a foiled condom and a small bottle of flavoured lube.
Barry picks up the bottle, reading the label as Len trails kisses down his chest and stomach. Barry sucks in a sharp breath when Len detours toward the hollow of his right hip, tongue dipping in to taste the faint sheen of sweat gathered there.
“Strawberry?” Barry chuckles as Len migrates lower, hand curling around the young man’s cock. Not as big as Len, but still a decent size. “Do you actually like the flavour or—”
Barry’s question turns into a choked off squeal as Len relaxes his jaw and takes the kid in as far as he possibly can. Then the kid swears under his breath, dropping the bottle in favour of fisting the sheets on either side of his hips.
Tonguing the lovely little vein on the underside of Barry’s cock, Len slowly draws his head up before he smirks and snatches the bottle away. “It’s what I had on hand,” he replies as he snaps open the lid and pours a little across the fingers of his right hand. Then he closes the lid, drops the bottle, and hooks Barry’s legs over his shoulders before returning to his work.
Barry make the most delightful noises as he tries to contain himself, hips jerking minutely as Len sucks him in again, one finger lightly tracing Barry’s entrance before dipping in. Barry’s also quite the gentleman, because he doesn’t once grab Len’s head, even when Len slips a second finger in and crooks it hard against Barry’s prostate.
“I-I’m going to warn you,” Barry gasps, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles are turning white. “I’m going to cum soon.”
Len’s actually really impressed with the kid’s level of self-control, so he eases off his prostate as he slips a third finger in, pulling off Barry’s cock with a small pop before asking, “You want me to slow down?”
“God, no,” he laughs. “My refractory period is next to nothing. I can orgasm maybe five times in a night, if I try hard enough.”
If it were anyone else saying that, Len would’ve split his side laughing. Except this is Barry Allen, the Flash, and if he says he can orgasm back-to-back…
Len takes the kid in deep, relaxing his throat, as he crooks his fingers again and watches Barry scream.
Even after giving his warning, Barry seems surprised by his own sudden orgasm. He lifts a shaking hand to stroke through his hair, trembling as Len swallows, laughing a little as though embarrassed.
Len waits until Barry softens before pulling off again, sitting back to tear open the foil. He rolls on the condom as Barry lies there, completely dazed, watching Len with the hint of a smile on his face.
Len doesn’t say anything as Barry grabs the bottle of lube himself, pouring some onto his hand before coating Len, stroking slow and even.
Len’s so wound up right now, he’s liable to tip over the edge himself if he’s not careful, so he gently brushes Barry’s hand away and kneels between the kid’s bent legs, glancing briefly at Barry’s softening cock before saying, “Do you need a moment?”
Still smiling, Barry shakes his head.
Len hesitates, but then he lines himself up and gently nudges his way in as Barry gasps and twitches and screws his eyes shut tight.
“Are you sure?” Len asks, halting.
Barry bends his legs a little more, hiking them up Len’s sides, fingers ghosting up Len’s ribs before smoothing over his shoulders and onto his back, appreciating the hard form hovering over his own. Then the kid bucks his hips as though to take him deeper, and so Len complies, sinking the rest of the way in, pausing a moment when he realizes Barry is hardening between them.
“Jesus,” Len swears softly.
Barry bucks his hips again, urging him onward. “Come on already.”
Len has trouble moving actually. Barry is warm and tight on the inside, and so unbearably soft and clingy on the outside, Len has to stop and admire the view, the way Barry’s biting his lower lip, a bead of perspiration trailing lazily from his brow to his temple before disappearing down into his hairline. He’s beautiful and sweet and all Len’s for the night, so this might very well be just a dream, but even if it is, he regrets nothing, because he’s no longer ashamed of his attraction to the fastest man alive.
Barry squirms enticingly, whining in the back of his throat—and that is enough to finally get Len going, just a few small rolls of his hips before he builds up a better rhythm, a little hard and a little fast, something that gets Barry keening as the boy digs his nails into Len’s back. And then it’s perfect, two bodies in motion, arguably the most powerful men in Central City, lost in the push and pull of humanity’s oldest dance.
Len has to focus to keep it going as long as he does, but eventually Barry comes again, spasming around Len, back arching, head thrown back, choking on his own cry as he gives in to the pressure. That very nearly triggers Len’s own orgasm, so he pulls out a little, watching Barry come down from his high before he laughs and says, “That’s twice already. Do you think you can handle one more?”
Barry smiles, which he interprets as a yes, but then the kid is pushing him away, prompting Len to roll over beside him. Baffled, Len just goes with it, not understanding the significance of the change in their position until Barry is straddling his waist.
“Any objections?” Barry asks.
Numbly, Len shakes his head.
Satisfied, Barry grabs Len’s cock and lines himself up. Hesitates a little when he’s about halfway down, but then he adjusts his knees and suddenly takes it all in. Len closes his eyes and just allows himself to feel, hands trailing up Barry’s quivering thighs until they rest comfortably on the kid’s hips.
Barry smooths his own hands over Len’s chest, humming softly in appreciation, before he lifts himself up and begins rocking gently above him.
Len honest to god whimpers, tightening his grip before he’s consciously aware of what he’s doing. Barry gasps and then grabs Len by the wrists, holding his hands in place as he breathes, “God, yes…”
Len tightens his grip even more, thrusting his hips up to meet each of Barry’s little rolls. It feels like a small eternity passes between them, because Len can’t get enough leverage from down here, and Barry’s obviously not in any hurry, and if he doesn’t orgasm himself pretty soon, he swears to god…
Len’s hips stutter a little, because he wasn’t expecting that, pleasant as the sound is. Opening his eyes, he stares up at Barry and says, “What?”
“If you can make me come a third time, I’ll give you a treat.”
He’s honestly a little confused, because what in the world could possibly be better than what they’ve got going already, but he’s also always been the sort of guy that likes rise to a challenge. So he leans up and rolls them over again before Barry realizes what he’s doing. And really, it’s better this way, because Len loves to be in control. He likes it hard and fast, and he’s so damn close right now, there’s really no hope of holding back.
Barry beats him to the punch yet again though.
And he vibrates.
Len’s so startled by the sensation—and holy crap, this experience has pretty much ruined him for life—he tumbles on after Barry without a second thought, losing his rhythm completely as he rides it out. And Barry just laughs again, soft and beautiful, as he cups Len’s cheek and studies his expression.
“You make the most ridiculous face when you orgasm,” Barry quips, chest heaving a little as he winds down from his own high.
Len wants to argue with him, but then Barry slips his hand around to the back of his neck and pulls him down for a kiss, just a series of soft pecks against his lips, the kind that bring Len back to the here and now as he slips out of Barry and finally collapses down on top of him.
“Oh man, you’re heavy,” Barry gasps.
Barry shifts uncomfortably beneath him, but when he realizes Len really isn’t interested in moving, he pulls Len’s face into the crook of his neck and strokes the back of his head, sighing.
Once Len’s brain is finally firing on all cylinders again, he tilts his face up enough to press a kiss against Barry’s sweat damp neck. Then he tilts his head a little further back to kiss him behind the ear.
Barry vibrates again.
“You have incredible abilities,” Len mumbles against his smooth skin.
“Took me forever to learn how to manage them though,” Barry replies. “Hence the long period of celibacy.”
“That’s an honest crime,” Len muses.
“We need to do this again,” Len decides, resolute. “We are going to do this again…”
“We are, are we?” Barry chuckles, clearly amused.
“I get you until sun up, don’t I?”
“You do…” Barry turns his head to kiss Len on his forehead, which is ridiculously sweet and just a little touching, because Len’s more accustomed to long, hard fucks that end with someone scrambling into their clothes before breezing out of the room. This is…embarrassingly enjoyable. “But I was kind of wondering about the long term, since, you know, I’m not exactly keen on being celibate any longer than I absolutely have to.”
“You’re not?” Len jokes, finally mustering the strength to prop himself up over Barry on his elbows. “I think we can work something out…”
“Everything comes at a price, huh?” Barry replies, but he’s smiling, so Len kisses him again.
He sure as hell wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.
Eventually though, Barry pulls away from him, brows furrowed, to say, “Seriously though, where’s Cisco?”
This might have been at the top of his long list of worst ideas in the whole goddamn world, but as he pours two fresh cups of coffee and carries them back to the kitchen table, he can’t help but stare at Lisa in her fluffy white bathrobe and let his worries simply melt away…
Then his cell phone pings on the table.
Lisa glances at it before giving him a wink and digging into the scrambled eggs and hash browns he whipped up for her five minutes ago.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Cisco swipes his screen and stares at the message…
Barry: You still alive?
Nervously, Cisco thumbs his reply: ‘Alive and well. What happened?’
He regrets the question almost as soon as he hits send, because what the fuck brain…?
Barry: :/ Seriously? …Stole back some art, actually.
Cisco blinks in surprise. ‘Wait, really?’
Barry: Yeah, couldn’t help myself. Anyhow, I’ll talk to you later. Sometime this afternoon, yeah?
Lisa makes a small miserable noise just then. Cisco glances up to see her staring at her own cell phone, frowning.
“Oh, but I loved that painting…” she mutters. Then she stares at Cisco and says, “Your friend is a twerp.”
“Uh, well…at least, he makes your brother happy?”
She shrugs, as though conceding to that fact, then she scoots her chair a little closer to his and plucks his cell phone from his fingers before tossing it onto the table. “You’ve got anywhere pressing to be this morning, Cisco?” she purrs.
Cisco smiles, leaning in a little closer to her himself. “Nope. I’m all yours.”
And kissing her, he realizes he really is.