A/n: So, as I am writing too many serious stories nowadays, (Star Wars / Harry Potter) I decided to take a short break and amuse myself with a sexy scenario.

A Barry Allen (Of Earth-3?4?5?10?100?1000?) warming the Caitlin Snow/Killer Frost of Earth 2.

If I decide to continue, it'll obviously end up as M in the later portions of the story. Enjoy!

Also, ice puns, brrrrrrrrrrr.

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But underneath the fallen snow,

lies a harvest yet to come.

She was cold, but suddenly no longer.

Chapter: 1

The cold ebbed at the nearing heat, receding in a cascading flush as the warmth danced across her skin. She raised an arm in his direction, but nothing happened next; she tried once more, but all that remained upon her paled features, were eyes of unbridled confusion.

It was him, he must have done something that prevented her from using her powers.

Caitlin Snow, the villain known as Killer Frost, looked upon the figure that stood before her. She recognized him, Barry Allen, resident librarian of Central City Regional Library – but he wasn't, not exactly. She frequented the library, and she knew that Barry Allen; a skinny nerd more interested in dusty old books than whatever it was that attracted men of his age.

The person that stood in front of her, had the same face, yet was inexplicably different. He towered over her crouching form, a handsome smirk that was unlike the shyness of her world's counterpart.

The Barry Allen of another world was older, and slightly more rugged that the boy in her memories. He was dressed in an expensively tailored suit, dark and accentuating his underneath figure. His hair was neatly combed, and his eyes, of a haunting blue; beautiful, yet perhaps even colder than she was.

She glared at him, there was little else she could do in his overwhelming presence; she might be of ice, but she was frozen completely still, and utterly at his mercy.

"What- What did you do to me?"

"A small concoction of chemicals and drugs, carefully synthesized in my lab," his head tilted curiously, "I collected a sample of the ice you left behind when you attacked my lab's shipment at the docks."

"Imagine my surprise," he smiled, "when I found traces of human DNA in the ice. After that, it's just a matter of dissecting and replicating the cells, then testing them against the different batches of synthesized drugs in order to see which affected you best."

When she did not reply, he kneeled downwards, his face hovering slightly above their eye-level, "Now tell me, woman of ice, why did you steal my Tachyon prototype?"

His fingers latched onto her chin, forcing her to look in his direction, the contact of his hand sending waves of heated pleasure down her neck. She couldn't control herself, the engulfing sensations came so suddenly, it prompted a soft yelp that resembled more of a mewl.

The reaction to his touch was unexpected to say the least, an unforeseen outcome that deeply interested the older scientist. "Astonishing," he muttered, "the drugs must have targeted your system in an unanticipated manner, leaving you much more sensitive and susceptible to heated contact."

"W-what are you talking about," she responded angrily, unamused with her body's reaction. His hand returned to her cheeks, but he did so in a much gentler manner this time round; a lone finger, softly caressing the curves of her jaw. She gasped at the immediate contact, as an electrifying blaze ignited every inch of her, leaving her wanting and breathless.

She fell forward and grasped at the carpeted floors, finding it suddenly impossible to still her trembling fingers. She felt a surging anger rise from within her, emerging through the foreign pleasures that were currently assaulting her every sense. She reached deep within herself, drawing from the coldness of her heart, embracing the chilling ice within; she needed to still her erratic heart.

Yet upon the next stroke of his finger, she felt an instant thawing of her insides, a cracking façade that had her nestling into his touch. There was no denying the attractiveness of this Barry Allen, but her body was not supposed to betray her this way. Not here, not now. She was so close to returning home, all she had to do was to get the Tachyon prototype and Zoom would return her back to her world.

But as he cupped her face with his palms, a striking warmth expanded from within her, spreading quickly to every extremity; her back arched in pleasure, and as her toes dug into the carpets below, everything else disintegrated, and all that remained was the heated pleasure of his touch.

The world was once of ice and white, but now, a shade of vividness, as colors returned to the paleness of her cheeks. He gripped onto her shoulder, but she could neither hear nor comprehend what he asked of her, there was only the spreading warmth, and a delicious hint of pain.

He was still questioning her about the prototype device, but she couldn't concentrate, not with his hands still roughly clamped around her. His grip tightened, and her lips parted as waves of pleasure shot down her breasts; her chest jutted outwards, begging to be touched.

And it was only then, the Barry Allen of this world noticed the effect he had on her. He took an immediate step back, denying her of his body's touch, a playful smile that contrasted her clouding confusion.

"Why did you sto-" She scowled before catching herself; embarrassment flushed her cheeks, along with an undeniable ache that soon surfaced from her heated core.

"Why did I… what?" he smiled.

"I…" she stuttered, his exiting proximity left her once more in a familiar chill, the rawness of ice, growing bitterly inside of her. "I… I… need," but even so, she couldn't bring herself to voice how desperate she was.

He knew exactly what she needed, and he only further tormented her with a smugness that vastly contrasted the Barry Allen of her world, "What do you need?"

"Y-Your... t-touch. Touch me."

When she spoke, he granted her the approach of his palm, yet as he came within close proximity of her trembling form, he retreated, his hands returning behind his back.

She noticed a subconscious growl that came from her throat; he was toying with her.

"Then answer my question," he said, "why did you attempt to steal my Tachyon Proto-–"

Before he could finish his sentence, Caitlin stood back up and threw herself in his direction. Her body collided against his; as powerful arms caught her, preventing her from falling to the ground. She could smell him, a wonderful mix of aftershave and wood. It was intoxicating, and as her lips locked against his, even more so was his taste.

It warmed her, tremendously so; the heat entered from every point of contact; his lips upon hers, her body against his; the fingers that latched onto her wrist, the arm that was across her back. She moaned into his lips, the added warmth was spectacular, and she couldn't help but tremble in his embrace.

There was a flame inside of her, long frozen over in the years since she became Killer Frost. But as Barry Allen recovered from his initial surprise and kissed her back with a renewed intensity, Caitlin Snow felt the return of a long forgotten heat, along with a shuddering climax that resulted from only the touch of his lips. She cried out in pleasure, and as the heat overwhelmed her with a blanketing darkness, only a single thought surfaced before she lost complete consciousness.

How deliciously warming.

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