I don't own the Flash.

The tech van-we never really came up with a name for it yet, something Cisco still frets about-has become something of a little nest for me, a little place where I can go and be alone-or as alone as it gets when you work with a group of people at STAR Labs, and with security cameras everywhere in the damn building. I can't seem to find time alone at the house with how often Joe or even Iris just pops in at random these days. Making time for myself here at the lab has me feeling just a tiny bit less guilty, since I'm in close distance in case I'm needed to run off and be the Flash. Besides, it feels good here in my little cocoon, makes me feel comfortable and protected from the world, just like Harrison (no, Eobard) used to make me feel.

That all sounds really sweet, but the fact that I'm sitting here with my jeans around my thighs and my hand in my panties maybe spoils that illusion.

I need to get off, I need it so bad, I've started having wet dreams where I wake up on the brink of orgasm, but am never able to finish myself off to the memory of just what, and who I was dreaming about in the first place. Damn, all I need is to come, just once, just enough to tide me over for a while, because I'm not emotionally okay to go find a man to do that for me right now, not when I still feel the phantom touch of him.

I'm getting really close, the slow build up feeling pretty satisfying, almost there, a quick vibrate of my hand should hit it-

And then the door opens.

I gasp and yank my hand out of my panties like that will make it totally not obvious what I've been doing in here, like I've been in here working on a crossword puzzle with my pants down.

"Hi," Harry says, giving me a wide smirk that makes me want to punch him. I would be totally within my rights to do it right now, even if I was just debauching STAR Labs property and is almost definitely in the wrong here.

"It is what it looks like," I said annoyed, since I'm much too high strung to bother sounding contrite. "The doors were locked for a reason."

"Ramon gave me a key," Harry says calmly, his blue eyes practically glowing from amusement. I narrow my eyes in dismay. Shit, I was there when he got the spare key. I pursed my lips. "You're a genius who broke into-why do you even need a key when I've seen you break into a car in like-" I sigh angrily. "Look, get in or get out, but shut the fucking door."

At this point I'm kind of expecting to be ordered to clean up and get my shit together, that this wasn't any time to fooling around, not with Zoom still at large and terrorizing worlds. At best I'm expecting a scathing look and a warning about public exposure. The opposite of what I'm expecting is for Harry Wells to slide into the van next to me and shut the door and hit the lock.

Then Harry does the only thing that's less likely than that; suddenly he's leaning over me, kissing me. His mouth is hot against mine, and I should really be pissed, but as it turns out the original Harrison Wells is just as good a kisser as the fake, and I'm a little too thrown by that information and by the whole situation to do anything but kiss back.

When he pulls away, I'm not really able to do anything but stare and say, "Holy shit..."

"You said 'get in'," Harry says, low and husky and personally intimate, in his own raspy voice that I still haven't gotten used to hearing yet.

"I didn't say get in me," I say indignantly, because I feel like I'm supposed to feel way more indignant than I do right now. I'm not sure what I feel right now, but indignant isn't on the list.

He moves away from me, far enough to be polite but not far enough to be gone, not enough to burst the bubble of charged tension between them. "Do you want me to leave?"

That's a really unfair question; he knows that I have a history with his doppleganger, that I've already seen what his body looks like, what it could feel and taste like-and I know that what he's offering is not something that we should do. We're both adults, and as adults, we can already guess the outcome of what would happen if anyone found out.

If you'd asked me when I woke up this morning whether I wanted to fuck Harry Wells, who is not only the doppleganger of my past lover who had killed my mother and countless others, and who had betrayed us all, but is also old enough to be my father, I'd have thrown a shoe at you.

He was still waiting, only looking slightly impatient, which is pretty good for him.

"No," I said, and grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back in, because it isn't really like me to make smart choices when I can do what I-apparently, without knowing it until like thirty seconds ago-want.

I somehow never managed to actually pull my pants up, but it's super convenient, because the first thing he does is push them down further, far enough that I can spread my legs. He pulls my underwear down too, and it's weird for a second to have my bare ass sticking the leather seat, but then he has two of his fingers in me, and worrying about something like that seems really stupid.

Fingering is a big waste of time with most guys, because they don't know what the fuck they're doing and it just feels kind of uncomfortable and a little clinical. Harrison Wells isn't most guys, as it turns out. He know exactly where he's going with this, not just sort of blindly jabbing at me. He's playing with my clit and moving his fingers just so and I let my head fall back, even though my head hits the seat belt and I can feel hows its pulling at my short hair. Harry breaks away from devouring my mouth, but he doesn't miss a beat, kissing down my neck, sucking and using his teeth in a way that I should probably tell him is going to bruise, but whatever, I'll heal in like half an hour anyway. Life goes on.

It's so good, so much better than it was alone and that was pretty damn great. I needed this so fucking badly, and I'm so ready, wouldn't have to do anything at all to come but sit here and let it happen. That would be so great, but I've got what I'm guessing is a perfectly functional man right here on top of me, and I can do so much better.

"Stop," I gasp, pulling his hand away, because I really am going to come if he keeps doing that. "Stop for a second."

"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice deep and husky, concerned but slightly annoyed.

I put my hands on his slightly unshaven face, pulling him up to look into my eyes. "I need you to fuck me. I don't care if you have a condom, I'm on the pill. Just do it."

I've never seen anyone change their expression so slightly and make it turn that intensely filthy before. "How do you want it?"

I actually had no idea. I just wanted him fully inside me, and that sort of distracted me from the spacial problem that it presented. I can't figure out anything that doesn't involve kicking a hole in the roof or putting my foot behind my head or something. That's not what I'm into, and any of that is going to lead to me having to explain a lot of things that I don't want to explain.

Harry's just looking at me, quite obviously enjoying my discomfort. Ass. He raises his hand to his mouth, licking his wet fingers, and I just want to melt and never coagulate again. I'm not sure how they'll write that on an official form, how Dr. Harry Wells killed me with sex while we weren't even fucking, but someone else will have to figure it out, because I'll be long gone.

"Fuck it," I growl, annoyed and greedy. I push my jeans off, kicking them down onto the floor somewhere. I have to turn and crouch and move funny, but then I'm straddling Harry's thighs. If I bang my head, I'm just gonna have to bang my head, because I'm doing this no matter what.

I start in on his belt, unbuckling and unbuttoning and unzipping. He groans when I finally get my hand around his cock, and I grin, stroking him a few times just to tease him, just because I can, just so I can get a little back. He doesn't let me get away with it for long, pulling me down and kissing me hard, putting his hand on my hip to guide me. I let myself drop, let myself ease into it, take him in slowly. I haven't done this in a while, not since Ha-Eobard, and I almost forgot how good it feels, so much better that anything on my own, even with the vibrating thing. Sure, I might just be using him to get off, but he's the one who was just going to finger me, so he's the one who's really coming out ahead in this deal.

I don't really have that much room to work with, but it's enough. I have to stay close, let my head hang, hold onto him tight as I move my hips, pushing down against him as he thrusts into me-okay, I probably don't have to hold on as tightly as I do, but it feels good, grounding, safe, as safe as fucking in a van with only one locked door can be.

"Are you close?" Harry asks, and his voice is tight, bitten off, like he's going to come any moment now, like I've done him in, and that is so incredibly fucking satisfying that I kinda want to cheer. To see the great Harrison Wells sound like that because of me...

"Yeah," I say instead. "Just keep-just keep doing that, I'm right there-"

Harry pulls my head down, kissing me hard, biting at my lips as he snaps his hips up into me again and again and again and then I'm shaking, back arching as I come, body suddenly vibrating from the pleasure. The older man lets out a strained shout feeling me clamp down and then vibrate around him, before he gets a few more good, hard thrusts in and then he swears loudly and pulls me down against him, coming inside me, filling me up.

I drape myself over him, my arms around his neck as I breathe, heavy and sated. His fingers trace up and down my spine under my shirt, and it's comfortable-or at least it's not awkward yet.

"I'd say that we should try that in your office, but I don't think Cisco would appreciate it, considering it's technically his office." I joke.

"As deliciously tempting as that sounds," he says. "I'm sure that if he found out, he would alert your ever-so-protective foster father just so he could try and shoot me again."

I laugh, and run a hand down his muscled bicep in a soothing motion. "I would be right there to protect you, just like last time. I won't let anyone kill you, Harry." He hums against my neck and presses a light peck there, over one of his earlier marks. It lessens the sting a bit when he pushes me away, turning me around so I end up back in my original seat. I wasn't expecting anything from this moment, not anything good or special, but it's still a little bit of a letdown when he just tucks and zips and buckles himself up, then opens the door and slides out of the car again.

He doesn't close the door, not immediately, just stands there and looks at me. Now he seems back to his original, surly self, and I feel a little small, for reasons I can't really explain.

"Next time, go home." he says, all disapproving. But then he smiles slightly, just enough for me to see. "Or don't."

I shake my head, feeling better somehow. "Will do, Dr. Wells." I say with a smirk, and he shoots me a devious wink.

Then he closes the door.