Len was a gangster, not a deviant. He didn't look down on people who willingly and happily sold their bodies, no matter the outlet, and he'd paid for his fair share of company over the years, but it wasn't a habit he liked to feed. If he needed companionship for a night, he could get it. He didn't need to waste time watching someone shed their clothing for a crowd. Len preferred private encounters.
So, despite a strip club having been amongst the properties he acquired when he took over Eobard Thawne's territories, he had no desire to visit the place himself. That was what underlings were for.
Since he was picky about consent and how easily it could go south in places like that, however, he sent Lisa, Mick, and Hartley rather than any grunts. He needed to be sure the books were in order, sure, but also that the employees were happy, healthy, and well cared for.
Much to his chagrin, he got a call the next morning, Lisa all a twitter with excitement that he had to frequent the club in person.
"I'll pass. Busy hunting detractors loyal to Thawne, not to mention the man himself still on the run. If nothing's wrong with the place, leave it be. You can take over running it if you want. All yours."
"Hartley already called dibs," Lisa said with a touch of petulance, "but that's beside the point. You have to come tonight."
"What for? I'm not interested in a strip club, Lise."
"It's not a strip club, Lenny, it's burlesque. Full performances. Then even better performances in the back. And less legal activities from there. But you have to see this! Besides, it is the one thing about the place that's a mystery, and we figured you'd want to solve it yourself."
"Mystery?"
"One of the performers lives above the place rent free, a kept boy of Thawne's. He wants to know what you're gonna do with him."
Great. Naturally, Thawne was a deviant. "Tell him he can stay if he starts paying rent, assuming his salary is fair."
"That's just it. He's the headliner and he gets peanuts compared to the others. Thawne really had him on a leash. His full shows in the back room are always booked. The others who do shows in the back are worth a pretty penny, especially if anyone wants to get up close and personal."
"But his going rate is close to peanuts too?"
"He doesn't have a going rate beyond his shows. No one is allowed to touch him."
That got Len to pause. Untouchable huh? He might be a useful tool for finding Thawne if he meant that much to him. "Fine, I'll come talk to him before the place opens tonight."
"Oh no. You're coming at 9PM. You have got to see this boy in action."
XXXXX
Len had to give Thawne credit. The place wasn't sleazy at all, more like an actual theater with food served and a stacked bar. The mainstage didn't see full nudity, that was for the back, so the club had eclectic clientele. Not all the performers stripped, and not all the ones who stripped fully could be bought for an hour—or a night. It was personal preference, which Len appreciated. It also made the performers who did everything that much more in demand.
And the 'untouchable' headliner had to be quite the draw.
Len took a table up front that Lisa had set aside for him, an Old Fashioned already waiting. There was a lull from earlier performances before the main attraction. Glancing around, Len saw wait staff cleverly accepting heftier tips in exchange for tickets he assumed were for the back. A select few tickets were scarlet instead of grey.
Then Len noticed a scarlet ticket beneath his glass. Lisa expected him to take in a full show. He doubted he'd be interested.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats and help me welcome back to the stage," an amplified voice filled the club, "the one and only…Flash."
Applause erupted, but Len had to snort. Flash? Really? Bit on the nose for a stripper.
The lights dimmed and a smooth voice began singing a muted chant.
Over
Nothing
Over
Nothing…
A piano chord burst out with the arrival of a spotlight on center stage, highlighting a trim figure in a black suit with a trilby tilted to cover his face.
Darling, his voice kicked off louder, I haven't missed you even once
In fact, babe, without you, I'm having way more fun
He danced with shuffling steps to the end of the stage, which was mostly bare but included a few black platforms of various heights. His face was still hidden by having the hat tipped low, and while he was fully covered in the suit, his appearance brought forth louder cheers from the crowd.
Cause living with you's like looking at the barrel of a gun
His head snapped up as his legs shot out shoulder-width to square off with the audience, and finally Len saw his face, and he was—beautiful wasn't a powerful enough word with that grin and the way the black eyeliner made his eyes pop.
Your smile could crack your face, you look down at everyone
Thank God, we're over
His dance brought him across the stage Len's direction, but he spun and moved backward before he reached him as additional dancers joined him at the outburst of the chorus, while he repeated, we're over, and nothing could make it right…
The women were in corsets, fishnets, and heels, the men in suit pants and vests but bare-chested beneath, everyone in heavy makeup. The dance was upbeat and showed off how well Flash moved, more refined than his backup and loving every second of it, like nothing could be better than singing and dancing his heart out.
The platforms were used as kickoff points and chairs for choreography in ever-increasing suggestive movements. Flash even dropped nearly to the floor at one point, despite being more encumbered by his three-piece ensemble, with thrusts toward the ceiling and one hand always keeping his hat in place.
Because you're evil, he formed a line with the others, moving across the stage and toward the front once more as his hands expertly unbuttoned his suit jacket in time to the music, because you're evil
Oh, evil
Because you're evil
He shrugged the coat from his shoulders and one of the dancers took it as the second verse jumped off from the chorus.
You're made to make a man just feel regret
With your love I rolled the dice but lost the bet
Exaggerated steps took him further forward, his hips moving in inviting, sinful ways before he came to stop dead-center for the dancers to surround him. A Greek god of a man with blond hair and more abs than seemed fair dropped to his knees to undo the buttons of Flash's vest while he winked down at him.
If I'm Blackjack, then you're Russian Roulette
You're the only person in my life I wish I hadn't met
The dancers scattered, the man rolling away after leaving Flash undone, and the chorus picked up again.
Thank God, we're over, we're over, and nothing could make it right…
This time, the repetitions included Flash taking turns dancing with different partners, and it was entrancing, because even so close, hips and bodies moving like they might brush against one another, never once did the other dancers touch him other than to remove his next bit of clothing.
The vest was shed as he leaned into the space of one dancer and twirled around another, a sense of dramatic keep-away between them all, like the greatest desire was to touch and possess him, but he remained ever out of reach, until they were once again moving in time as a line.
Because you're evil, because you're evil, oh evil
Because you're evil
They reached the front to immediately move back again, the dancers next to him on either side untucking his shirt and using the edges to pull him back harder and twirl him around one of the shorter platforms, only enough to hide his feet once he was behind it.
They framed him and tugged loose his tie, only for him to continue the tease with that perfectly timed motion of his fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt.
You won't ever be part of my life, I know, I know
If you think that I will miss you one day, I won't, I won't
He stopped halfway down his chest but a gorgeous dark-skinned woman from behind reached up between his legs and yanked the tear-away fabric to reveal fishnets and a black lace garter belt over skimpy underwear made all the more delicious when Flash stepped onto the platform to show off shiny red heels with gold studs.
Whoa, you're evil!
Gripping the edges of his shirt, he tore it open the rest of the way to display a matching underbust corset and spun on the platform in his heels to make sure everyone saw him.
Yeah, don't you know, we're over
We're over, nothing can make it right
We're over…
The dancing flew into an even more perfectly choreographed and suggestive flourish through the climax as he leapt from the platform and performed the same and then more complicated moves in those impressive heels that did wonders for his long legs, entrancing Len with every line of his body, the swimmer's build that begged to be touched but no one was allowed to. It wasn't even his body that Len felt such allure for but the elation on his face, the sheer joy he took in his performance, just like Len after pulling a perfect heist.
He hated when Lisa was right.
You're evil, yeah
You're evil
Don't you know, you're evil
The other dancers broke away, leaving Flash to finish the song alone. He moved Len's direction like before but this time he made it all the way and spun the hat from his head to roll down his arm where he caught it and flung it onto Len's table.
Oh baby, you're evil
Whoa, hey, you're evil
Dropping to the floor with a spin on his knees, he stopped forward with a seductive wink—which was when he realized who Len was because he nearly lost his grin for a look of sudden terror, but he recovered quickly and sang on. He finished with a backward bow, legs spread so he wasn't sitting on those sharp heels, and chest arched and on display as if all for Len.
Don't you know, you're nothing but
Evil
The applause was deafening for such a small venue, and Len was right there with them, standing to give the kid the ovation he deserved—and to get a better of a view of him laid out in his skimpy attire.
He was panting, chest heaving, green eyes darting briefly to look at Len before the lights went dark. When they returned, Flash was gone and the announcer was thanking the performers and introducing the next act, with a final word for those lucky enough like Len to have more to see.
"The Flash's continued show begins shortly for those with scarlet tickets. Scarlet tickets only."
Len downed the rest of his drink, picked up Flash's hat, and turned for the back, following the signs for private and specialty rooms. The wait staff knew who he was and averted their eyes or bowed their heads as he passed. They would have let him through even without a scarlet ticket, but there were only so many rooms where he was being led.
"What's the setup here?" he asked once he was brought to a small room that only had enough space for him to get comfortable and to see through what appeared to be two-way glass.
"The room there connects through the far wall to backstage," the hostess explained. "The other three sides are each lined with multiple rooms like this one."
Len's was the centermost room, best seat in the house—again. "And am I right in thinking that the performers can't see us from the other side?"
"That's right. They only see mirrors so it's easier to change positions for everyone to get the best view."
"Positions? Sounds a little more invasive than a strip tease."
"Oh. Did you not realize…umm, see, in this room—" the girl stuttered.
"No, no, don't explain. I'm looking forward to the surprise." Len tipped her generously.
"Thank you, sir!" She gave a small bow. "Enjoy the show. It'll begin in a couple minutes."
Len closed the door and sat in the chair positioned in front of the window. A mini fridge was next to him with bottles of beer and booze. He grabbed a water instead. He wanted to have all his faculties.
The lights didn't go dark, they were already dim while still making it easy to see inside. There was no announcement when Flash entered, just the beginnings of music starting to play over speakers in Len's room. No singing this time but an instrumental and more common type of tune for a joint like this so as not to distract from the show.
Flash came in through the part of a scarlet curtain, still wearing his final outfit from onstage, though without the hat, of course. That was Len's now, and he held it in his lap as he watched. The room had a pole, no surprise there, but also a small bed on a platform for—well, Len had thought for poses, but now he knew the show would be different.
The teasing smirk on Flash's face was subtle now, more seductive and coy, as he gripped the pole, stepped out of his heels, and effortlessly lifted himself into a spin, legs tangling with the pole like he was born to be in motion. The fishnets and garter belt framed him like a tantalizing extra layer of skin. His previously well-coifed hair became mussed, fingers purposely dragging through it while a single hand held him aloft and he spun faster.
Dropping into a tight twirl, he dipped low to switch positions, feet up the pole and head toward the floor. Every angle was as thrilling as the last whether slow and carefully controlled or faster with an elegant flourish.
Len almost didn't want it to end, but his eyes trained more closely when, while twirling about the pole upside down, Flash unhooked the garters. He lowered himself to the ground, landing almost daintily in his step where he slid the garter down and left it by the pole. That coy grin flashed Len's direction, and though he knew he couldn't see him, it was easy to pretend that he could.
Flash used the bed like he'd used the platforms during his dance, like a springboard into continued motion. Sitting only to fan out his long legs, he rocked back to slide the fishnets down his thighs, then spun so Len's view was of him dropping his head back over the edge of the bed, legs still raised to pull the fishnets the rest of the way off.
He pushed up with his pelvis leading, heading lolling back and then rolling up slowly as he shifted onto his knees, hands playing down his chest, touching his taut stomach like no one else was allowed to until he reached the line of his underwear. He paused there, teasing his fingers under the waistband, but instead of tugging down, he grinned wider and crawled across the bed for…
Oh. Len hadn't seen the supplies but Flash had lube and toys within reach—many toys—and handled each one carefully as if debating what to use tonight.
Len shifted in his chair as Flash chose beads, larger than ones he was used to seeing.
Flash laid out on the bed lengthwise so Len could see the whole line of him. He understood the setup now. The private rooms made it feel like this was just him and Flash, alone.
Setting the beads aside at first, Flash drew a hand from his neck down his chest again but this time he continued past the line of his underwear and stroked himself where he was already hard. Len was too, how could he not be with such a display, with the slow way Flash pulled himself out, lips parting in relief.
He was a good length and fully shaved. Had to be in such skimpy outfits. And oh how he flushed with color as he began to stroke himself more vigorously, head dropping back to stretch out that long neck. His legs crooked up but stayed spread to give Len the best view. When he was ready, he reached for the lube and coated his fingers.
Len groaned aloud when Flash shifted again but then realized the view was better with Flash's feet pointed at him, legs reaching for the ceiling as he dragged the underwear off and kept his legs lifted while he reached between them.
Len wished he could hear the man instead of music, but he was a vision to witness. Flash stretched himself before pushing the first bead inside, all of them connected by string to add each successive one. And Flash added all four with a shudder on the last.
Then, to Len's amazement, he returned to the pole.
His face was marvelously flush, expression betraying shocks of pleasure as he danced with the beads inside him at full arousal, needy and shivering as if he wanted to rut against the pole. He kept himself suspended though, feet to the ceiling once more, when he started to pull the beads out. By the last one, the arm and legs holding him up were quivering.
His grin had been replaced by greater need when he dropped down and returned to the bed, but he was still elegant in every movement as he lay back and lifted his hips, reaching for a large dildo. He coated it with lube and wasn't shy when he began to push it inside. He could handle a lot and loved every minute of fucking himself for an audience. This wasn't work for him, it wasn't mechanical or rehearsed, it was passion, the same elation he displayed when he sang.
Maybe Len could use a drink.
He was expected to fully enjoy himself in this room. There was lotion and tissues and hand sanitizer, he noticed now. Normally, he would have sneered at the idea of such a thing in public, but the rooms were clean, and the show was far too engrossing not to need some relief.
Once he opened his slacks, it didn't take long to catch up to Flash, and with how hard Len had been, he ended up finishing just before Flash did.
The kid was like a relaxed cat when he sprawled out afterward, stretching and catching his breath. There was a robe on a hook near the curtain that he put on eventually, likely headed for showers backstage, but he blew the glass a parting kiss before he left and it just happened to be at Len.
Best seat in the house indeed. Len didn't care about the club, Hartley could have that, but the headliner would be his. If solving the mystery of The Flash meant getting an even better front row seat eventually, having something extra to use against Thawne would just be icing on the cake.
XXXXX
"You wanted to see me, Mr. Snart?"
And here Len had thought it was the other way around judging by Lisa's chattering. "I did." Len gestured for the young man to come forward. He'd made sure to place the hat on the end of his desk.
Flash stared at it as he entered the back office. He was wearing a different robe now, a clean one in shiny red fabric with a gold belt. It would have matched his heels perfectly if he was wearing them. He wore simple loafer slippers now instead.
He'd showered, his hair still damp, tussled with gel to look presentable, and he had reapplied fresh eyeliner. It suited him remarkably well.
But something was off as he came closer, different in the way he held himself. Coming to certain conclusions about the situation, which weren't necessarily wrong, he shifted his eyes away from Len and began to untie his robe, opening it to reveal the same underwear, fishnets, and garter from before. It was a welcome sight, but gone was the mischief and joy Len had seen during his performances.
He was terrified.
Len had expected a tease, some charm and flutters of those painted eyelashes, maybe a little cat and mouse. He didn't want to squash the mouse. He needed to recalibrate his expectations and play this one by ear.
"I think you misunderstand," Len spoke in a softer tone. "This isn't an inspection. I saw the show. Have a seat."
Flash foundered to do as requested, closing the robe swiftly in embarrassment before he darted to the chair. His motions weren't nearly as fluid when he wasn't under a spotlight. "I-I'm sorry, I-I-I thought—"
"Hardly an unappealing view, just not necessary. We're here to talk. That's what you wanted, isn't it? So, tell me, what's your name? Or should I call you Flash?"
A flicker of a real smile touched his expression. "Barry. Barry Allen."
"Nice to meet you, Barry." Where was the confident performer, Len wondered? Was he just that good of an actor, or was there something about facing a man in this chair, in this office, who'd gotten too familiar? "How I understand the situation is that you are the club's main attraction. Having caught your show, I understand why. You also live above the club without paying a dime."
"Yes." He fidgeted with his hands, staring at the desk, at the hat, rather than at Len.
"Your salary is barely enough to live on. Enough for groceries perhaps, but everything else is provided for you."
"Yes."
"How long has that been the case?"
"Um…five years?"
"Five? How old are you, if I may ask?"
"Twenty-four."
Len felt a hard twist in his gut. Thawne had been keeping him here since he was nineteen? "Have you always been untouchable to the clientele?"
"Y-yes."
"What exactly were you to Thawne?"
"I-I…" That caused Barry's eyes to snap up and meet Len's directly.
"Was he keeping you here against your will?"
"No. He took me in when I had nothing."
"So, you owed him."
"No, I…I didn't…I-I just…"
"You didn't have anywhere else to go."
Barry nodded.
"And Thawne took advantage of that."
"He never touched me, if that's what you mean. Not the way you mean." Barry said it as though feeling the need to defend himself. To defend Thawne? No…himself. "He'd watch me and…I'd perform for him alone sometimes, but we didn't sleep together."
"He never let anyone else touch you, and he never touched you himself?" And Barry was only nineteen when Thawne took him in?
It wasn't a guarantee that a nineteen-year-old would be a virgin, but Len knew from the way Barry glanced away again, blushing and shifting in fear that Len would want more than Thawne had, that he was a virgin, literally untouched.
Len would not be using Barry to get to Thawne. He'd find the man himself.
"Tell me something, Barry. If you could have whatever your heart desired out of this arrangement, what would you want? Leave entirely, escape this life with a wad of cash in your pocket to start over?"
Fear sprang to life once more in Barry's eyes. "No, I…I don't hate my life here. I love performing." He said it passionately enough that Len knew he meant it. Len had assumed as much while watching him, but then he'd doubted, seeing how prettily the boy could blush, especially when he added, "Both kinds of performing."
"But…?" Len prompted for what remained unsaid.
"Well…it's not sustainable forever. I always…"
"Yes?"
"If I could, I'd want to go back to school, try college, figure out what else I might do with my life."
"Would you want your own apartment elsewhere?"
"I like my home. It's mine. I mean yours," he corrected quickly, that deep-seated fear making his whole body tense, "I know it's yours now, and if you don't want me there…"
"We're not talking about my wants, we're talking about yours. But if it helps, I have no problem with you staying right where you are."
Barry sagged in relief. "I want to stay. Please? For now at least. Maybe have my own place someday, but…if I could get out more, take some classes, cut back my performance hours or days just a little, and umm…make what the others make, keep my tips?"
"You don't even keep your tips?"
Barry shook his head.
"Easier for Thawne to keep you under his thumb if you were always in need of him," Len said, and finally a bit of that terror gave way to resentment that Barry had likely kept well hidden all those years for fear of Thawne's retaliation. "That ends today. All your tips are yours, the apartment is yours, and your pay will be at least what the others make, likely more considering your popularity."
"R-really? What, umm…what do you want in return for all that?"
Clearly Thawne had broken this kid over the years even without laying a hand on him, maybe because of that, and now Barry didn't trust a kind offer.
That was good. He shouldn't. The world was a harsh place and Len didn't do handouts. He didn't do nice. He didn't do hero. But he also wasn't a monster, and he had rules that all his crew followed.
No civilians got involved—ever. No deaths, unless absolutely necessary, because they didn't need the heat and it got messy. Everyone pulled their weight, but no one was his slave. He needed loyalty if he wanted to be better than the type of menace Thawne had been to this city, and loyalty came from the carrot not the stick.
"I'm very particular, Barry. I hadn't planned on coming here personally until I was told about you, but even before then I sent my best people to check this place out, make sure no one was being forced into anything they didn't want. That's not how I do business. Choice is important to me. That means no one gets to decide if you're untouchable but you. Would you like to be part of the roster for—"
"No," Barry spoke up with a brighter flash of fear again. "Please, I…I-I'd rather—"
"Then you won't be."
He relaxed with a telling sigh but remained wary. "You have to want something else."
Len wanted quite a bit, but loyalty had to be earned, and if he wanted the true prize, one that would be lasting and worthwhile, then he needed to play this smart. "I might keep that front-row table set aside during your shows for myself. As well as the center room for the shows that follow."
The flush that filled Barry's cheeks wasn't only from embarrassment, Len thought. Curiosity maybe? He hadn't been sure if Len saw his second show.
"You're rather captivating, Barry. Anyone watching you could tell you enjoy what you do. That is what I want from my performers, no matter where or what they perform. But if we're talking deals, perhaps on occasion you could give me a private show like you did with Thawne."
Instantly, Barry looked terrified again. Len needed to fix that, the fear rooted so deeply in him that he was a prisoner even with Thawne gone.
"Let me make something very clear. You choose what you want from this. You choose who has the pleasure of touching you. That includes me. If I ask for a private show, it goes no further than a show. I don't own you. You work for me. I'm not allowed to touch you without permission either. I only ever would if you asked me to."
That caught Barry's attention as Len had hoped it would.
"If private shows aren't a suitable addition to our deal, then—"
"It's fine! I-I don't…mind." He dropped his eyes to his lap with a bashful twitch at his mouth. "Sometimes, in that room, surrounded by mirrors, I wish I could see who was watching me. I just didn't like the way Eobard did."
Eobard. Familiar indeed.
"And why was that?"
That question was too difficult for Barry to answer, though he tried several times to open his mouth.
"You don't have to tell me," Len said. "Do you have anything to protect yourself with?"
"What?" Barry sat up straighter.
Len pulled a small pocket knife from his jacket, something he always kept on him, but he had other weapons at his disposal, and clearly, Barry needed something. He passed it across the desk. "Take this. Nothing special, just a little insurance. It's a dangerous city, and you want to get out more, you said. If anyone ever tries to touch you when you don't want them to, keep this close and use it. That includes on me."
He thought for a moment that Barry would refuse the gift, but then he took it with grasping hands and held the knife tight like a treasure, like he'd never had anything to protect himself with before. Len of course knew he would never touch Barry without permission, he'd keep his end of the deal, no matter how much he might want him.
"Thank you, Mr. Snart, sir."
"Not Mr. Snart," Len said. "Call me Len."
"Len?"
"You can call me 'boss' if you prefer, but you're welcome to call me Len. Assuming you don't mind that I call you Barry?"
"No." Barry was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he mustered a genuine smile. "I like Len. It suits you."
"Thank you. Now, I believe you're off the clock, so if you need anything, extra cash, dinner, you just let one of my people know, and they'll provide."
"Maybe I'll…go out with the other dancers tonight? They usually get a late dinner, have a few drinks."
"By all means."
"Thank you," he said so heartfeltly, it was clear that Thawne had never allowed him to join the others before. He'd kept him isolated, touch-starved, and dependent.
The timid shuffle in Barry's step when he left made Len nauseous, a complete 180 from his Flash persona. Thawne had groomed him for some twisted game. Len needed to do something about that. Giving the kid some freedom was a good start. And if Len spent a little extra time at the club from now on, who was really getting hurt?
His priority outside the club remained the same—to hunt Eobard Thawne down as soon as possible.
XXXXX
Two weeks passed like a whirlwind for Barry. The first few days after Thawne was overthrown had felt like months, waiting for Thawne to show up around every corner or for the new boss to be far more ruthless. Len wasn't like that though. Two weeks and he hadn't gone back on any of his promises.
Instead of five days a week, Barry performed three, his free time spent looking into potential classes to take at CCU. Len frequented the club often, mostly to catch Barry's shows, but also to see how things were being run. Mr. Rathaway—Hartley—had stepped up first to be manager, but Len's sister Lisa soon became his partner. They were nice too, just fans of the shows and interested in keeping the club run well.
The big guy, Mick, started coming around too, which Barry thought might be because of Caitlin. He was always in the crowd if she was performing, especially when she did her routine in that white-blond wig. Even so, none of Len's people ever overstepped any boundaries. It wasn't like the dancers had feared. Leonard Snart was a cool breeze compared to the terrifying electronical storm that had been Eobard Thawne.
Barry had been on the streets for years after his parents died. He couldn't handle foster care, he didn't want that life, not after the first few homes were terrible. If only he'd known sooner how much worse accepting Eobard's offer would be.
Finally, Barry had decided that the only way he could afford his next meal was if he sold something he could never get back. He didn't know he was getting in the car with the biggest mobster in all of Central City. But Thawne hadn't used him as expected. He'd taken him to the club, to the apartment upstairs, and ran his thumb across Barry's lips like he was going to, but then he'd stopped.
"You're far too pretty to waste on one night. Can you be useful to me, Barry, if I give you a place to stay, food, clothing, everything you need, and all you have to do is everything I ask?"
Barry had been desperate, and it had seemed like too good an offer to refuse. It helped that he loved performing when Thawne discovered he had talent. It was when he asked Barry to perform in other ways that things got darker.
"You like people watching you, don't you, Barry? You're a whore, after all, and all mine."
After that, he'd snap at anyone who even touched Barry's hand. His jealousy was violent and terrible, so to protect others, Barry had promised, "No one will ever touch me but you."
Thawne had latched onto that. "No one will ever touch you but me."
Now the chains were off. Barry was free. They hadn't found Thawne yet, but he was gone, vanished in a blink. Barry could talk and laugh and be around the other dancers like he'd never been allowed to before. They welcomed him readily, though they still shied from touching him at first, too used to not being allowed to. Barry was content enough to be able to finally get to know them.
Caitlin, Oliver, Iris. Cisco the music leader, and Sara the bartender. Along with many others. They were all good people.
Two weeks and already Barry felt like a brand-new man. He was much less timid when Len called him to the office a second time.
"You wanted to see me?" he asked as he entered, changed into jeans and a sweater so he could join the others when they went out for dinner.
"Ah, you have plans?" Len nodded at his attire.
"Oh, I was just changed for dinner with everyone. Did you need me for something?"
"If it's alright, I'd like your time tonight. Finally get in one of those private shows."
Terror shot through Barry's veins. He wished it didn't, but it was so learned now, the way Eobard had been when he gave him a show. Barry didn't want to be afraid of that, he wanted to enjoy it. He wanted to see the face of the person watching him without fearing what they might do to him.
Len could be like that. And he was so beautiful, it would be easy for Barry to get into it.
But what if this was all a trick, a long, cruel game, a ploy, a—
"I don't want you to feel like this is any different from your other performances," Len said in his soft, soothing voice that had only ever set Barry at ease so far, "I'll simply be the only man in the room."
"O-okay." Barry squared his shoulders and tried to find that place inside himself where he was confident and powerful and in control. He knew it shifted his expression immediately, and he moved toward Len before he'd even considered where or how he was going to do this in the office.
"Not here." Len held up a hand to stop him, though he didn't look upset, more amused. "I'd like to offer you a choice. Upstairs in your apartment. Back at my own. Or a hotel."
Not Barry's apartment. He wasn't ready for that. Eobard always…no.
Not Len's apartment either, because that…that seemed so personal, and what if it was a lie and Len turned out worse than Eobard and—
Barry took a breath. He didn't want to live like this anymore. He had to take a chance. He knew he could say no to all of it if he wanted to, but he didn't want to. He was even a little turned on, imagining Len's eyes on him.
Because you're a whore, aren't you, Barry?
Barry shook the offending memory away. "Hotel?" he squeaked and coughed to cover it.
"Pick a good outfit to bring, get ready, gather whatever you need to spend the night. I'll meet you out front in half an hour. And remember," Len called when Barry turned to obey. "All that will happen is what you want to happen."
"Okay," Barry said, anxious but desperate to believe him.
He had a new costume he'd been waiting to debut that he hoped Len liked. He had his toys, his toiletries, and clothes for tomorrow. It was strange riding with Len in a nice car with a driver, the two of them in back, Len idly chatting with him about the classes he was considering, as if he was honestly interested and wanted to make Barry comfortable.
He was comfortable. Len soothed him even when his nerves got the better of him.
The hotel room was immaculate. A separate bedroom with a king, as well as a queen in the living room, and a kitchenette. They ate first since neither had had dinner, then Barry changed in the bathroom and came out in his robe. His new black heels were deadly sharp. He loved them.
So did Len from the way he stared even with the robe still tied. He'd brought a chair into the bedroom, where Barry had already set his toys.
"Do you want music?" Barry asked.
"What do you want, Barry?"
"I like performing to music."
"How about some classic crooners?"
"That sounds perfect."
Len used his phone to tap into the Bluetooth of the room and lounge music began to play, making it easier for Barry to shift into Flash mode. Len wasn't Eobard. He wasn't Barry's reflection either.
Closing his eyes, Barry let his head drop back to the music, feeling it thrum through him and ignite him like the spark on a match head. When he opened his eyes again, he drew his hand down to part the robe slightly and moved into the bedroom to join Len.
There was a drink in Len's hand, just a few fingers of whiskey, which Barry took and stole a sip from before placing it back in Len's grasp. He smirked at him and sauntered backward toward the bed. Being The Flash was always easier than being Barry Allen.
"This one's new. I hope you like it. You're the first to see it." He tugged the tie loose on the robe and let it fall open without removing it completely. He didn't feel the same fear he'd felt the first time he opened his robe for Len.
The black stockings were soft against his skin, but he especially liked the red ruffled underwear with a bow in front. The corset came up higher than most he wore, ending at just below his nipples, also red but with black piping.
After he was sure Len had taken him in and was satisfied with what he saw, Barry dropped the robe to pool at his feet. He sat back on the bed without taking his eyes off Len. He was going to keep everything on, heels too, he decided, even after the underwear came off. He thought Len might enjoy that better.
The bed was a good height to give Len the perfect view from his chair. Barry still played his angles, arched and shifted and changed positions regularly. He used a plug to start, slipping that in first before beginning to touch himself. He had a glass dildo tonight. Sometimes he enjoyed the feel of something different. And through it all, there was a unique thrill being able to turn and meet Len's eyes.
"Barry," Len startled him when his own eyes had closed, a twinge of fear creeping in, wondering if now was when the ruse would betray itself, but Len hadn't left the chair, and he didn't speak any cruelties. "If I may make a request, go a little…slower. For a while."
Barry nodded. He hadn't thought he could enjoy taking direction until he was asked nicely. Slow was good, sweet even, then eventually just shy of torturous, but when his face started to show that, Len told him he could speed up, and Barry came to the sound of Len's voice saying, "Yes…just like that."
He wondered then if it was all about to change, but Len simply sat there, leg propped up to hide how aroused he might be, as he said, "Catch your breath. Then you can shower and get ready for bed. Do you need anything? A drink?"
Barry chuckled shakily and lifted himself to scoot to the end of the bed, corset stained and hair disheveled. "Another sip from yours?" he asked. Len hadn't touched his drink once while watching Barry.
Len clinked the last bits of ice and held it out to him.
Rising gingerly, Barry took the glass and his requested sip, enjoying more than he could say the way Len scanned his body in the outfit with the underwear still on the floor, but not once did he push or ruin it or try to touch Barry, though Barry knew he wanted to.
He couldn't believe how much a part of him wanted that too.
When he got back from showering, Len was on the phone, but he gestured that Barry could claim the king. Barry wondered while he lay there if Len would join him eventually, unsure how he felt about that, but Len never did. The sheets on the other bed were rumpled from use when Barry woke up the next morning.
It all felt like a dream, but for once it had been a nice one.
XXXXX
Len's men had a few leads on Thawne, but it had been well over a month now, which made it less likely they would find him. There was a time in the beginning when he'd considered leaving the detective work and Thawne's fate to the cops, but after meeting Barry, he knew he could never let the man see the inside of a jail cell.
He was even more convinced of that when Lisa stormed into his apartment one morning.
Barry had just left, being taken to work by Len's driver since he had his own work to attend to. The first few times Len had requested a private show, they used the hotel, but this time, Barry had wanted a change. Being comfortable enough to ask for Len's apartment was a big step.
He'd decided on classes at the U and was attending some several times a week—mostly chemistry, physics, things related to engineering, which surprised and delighted Len to learn that this boy so talented in the arts was also a science nerd. Everyone could tell he was more relaxed lately, more settled, happier, which was why it annoyed Len that his sister burst in and the first thing out of her mouth was:
"What the fuck do you think you're doing with that boy, Lenny?"
"Good morning to you too."
"Do you have any idea what Thawne put him through, and now you're doing the same thing?"
"What are you talking about?" Len's hackles rose like he rarely got around Lisa.
"Cisco told me. Barry's been opening up, actually spilling his secrets to his friends. The things he said Thawne did during those shows…" She shuddered and few things got to Len's sister.
"Ramon told you what Barry confided in him?"
"He was worried!" Lisa defended. "Cisco hugged Barry once when he was having a bad day, didn't think anyone saw, but Thawne did. Apparently, he would have had Cisco killed if Barry hadn't begged him otherwise, so Thawne broke Cisco's hands instead."
"Jesus." Thawne was as depraved as Len had been speculating. Barry hadn't even been allowed hugs from his friends?
"They all know you're not like that, Lenny, but still, stealing him away for private shows like Thawne did? It isn't right."
Len sat on his sofa and waited for Lisa to join him. "What did Thawne do when they were alone?"
Lisa hugged herself like Len hadn't seen since their father was still alive. "Kept him on a razor's edge, always threatening him, saying he was his, saying he could do whatever he wanted to Barry, that Barry owed him everything and one day he was going to take what he was owed. Basically, a constant string of degrading bullshit to keep him low and controlled.
"Every time, Thawne would make Barry think he was going to take what he thought he deserved, and every time he didn't, the poor kid built up that much more of a bundle of suspense. Always afraid, never sure when or what Thawne might do to him."
Now, Len understood why Lisa was so shaken. They knew their own version of this story.
"Thawne would choke him, hold him down, tie him up, and none of it in the fun way."
That startled Len, until he remembered Barry's words from when they first met.
He never touched me, if that's what you mean. Not the way you mean.
"He'd do everything he could that didn't leave marks, and Barry couldn't turn to anyone for help. Performing was the only escape he had."
"I wondered if it was something like that given his behavior."
"And you're still asking him for private shows?" Lisa spat at him as she spun to face him.
"That's why I am," Len said, watching the confusion play out on his sister's face. "We've seen too often how being used can break someone. You can't run from it or never face the things that remind you of it when some of those things are good. You need to find safety in what you love to replace the bad." For them, part of that had been each other.
"You're putting him in the same situations as Thawne…just without the bullshit."
"Making him feel safe, building back his confidence, building his trust. He loves performing. Now he loves performing for me." Len grinned and could only shrug when she rolled her eyes at him. "I might not be a monster, but I'm no saint either."
Lisa huffed but seemed satisfied with the explanation. It wouldn't have been the answer with just anyone, but with Barry, the way he loved what he did, the way Thawne had twisted it, Len knew it was the right call. If Barry never asked for more from him, so be it. The kid was happy and making Len money, and his shows, private or otherwise, were the highlight of Len's night.
"Fine, keep on with your therapy," Lisa said with a note of derision, "but if you're the one who ends up in too deep when all is said and done, just remember—"
"I can blame you?"
She chuckled before sticking her tongue out at him. "You can blame that big heart of yours, brother mine, coz I think it's got it bad with no sign of recovery."
She was right—again. The shows were thrilling, but Barry was much more to Len than that. Sometimes he looked forward to hearing about Barry's day and his studies more than any titillating display. He shouldn't be surprised. He'd known he was doomed from the moment Barry tossed him that hat.
XXXXX
Barry no longer thought of Len like his boss. He was, of course; he still signed Barry's checks and was technically his landlord, but it was different being around him than with anyone else. He really was nothing like Eobard.
Barry felt free around Len, tied to a job and a monthly rent like most people, but not a prisoner anymore. As much as he was getting closer to his friends at the club, he was growing closer to Len too, and getting daring enough to ask him things about himself.
Most of the time, Len was very upfront, but if there was something he didn't want to talk about, he'd get quiet, and Barry would say he didn't need an answer, he was just curious. After all, Barry had the same quiet moments when Len asked him things he wasn't sure how to speak to.
Sometimes, Len told him anyway, like about how his mother had left and his father was an asshole. He hadn't mourned when his dad died in prison. He and Lisa were better off without him, he said. Anyone could be better off without a person who pretended they loved them but just ended up hurting them.
Barry knew Len was purposely relating Lewis to Eobard when he said that, and it wasn't wrong. It made him smile that Len understood, even though it was a terrible thing to have in common. He didn't push to learn more about Eobard though and for that, Barry was grateful. It was easier to talk about those things with Cisco or Iris.
Len still never tried to touch him, not in passing, not when they started doing normal things together like seeing a movie or having dinner at a restaurant or just walking in the sunshine, not even during their private shows. He'd watch and make gentle requests, but he always left the power in Barry's hands.
He also never touched himself. Eobard had, sat in a chair or lay on the bed beside Barry and brought himself to pleasure too. Barry hadn't minded, because it meant Eobard might not seize him and press his face to the sheets.
Len's passion would show in his expression, but even if his legs were parted to reveal through his slacks how hard he was, he never did anything about it.
When Barry showered afterward, he'd think about Len touching himself then, lying on the bed where Barry had been, smelling him there and getting off to the memory of his show. Sometimes Barry would get off again too, envisioning that.
Len was strong and smart and steady, unwavering but witty, and on top of it all, he was gorgeous. Barry wanted to know what he looked like beneath his long sleeves and dark colors. He wanted to know what Len felt like. For the first time in years, he wanted someone and didn't feel afraid to give into that.
It started to affect his regular shows, because it was even easier to enjoy them when he imagined Len was the only one watching, something sweet and safe to replace the fear that used to sit at the base of his spine.
He got bolder with Len as the weeks progressed and they spent more time together outside the club and private encounters, wondering what it might take for Len to slip up and touch him despite his promises. It was a terrible thing to test or push, but Len had such gorgeous hands. If ever hands were going to touch Barry in something other than harshness, he couldn't imagine better ones running across his skin.
So, he made a decision, months after it all began, that it was time to stop waiting. To get what he wanted, he needed to ask.
Before beginning one of their private shows, Barry started by lifting a leg over Len's lap and straddling his thighs, not quite sitting but hovering there. Len didn't have a drink this time, keeping his hands on the armrests of his chair. He always smelled so good, but Barry rarely got this close.
"How about a dance tonight?"
The iconic beats of "You Don't Own Me" started over the speakers, and Len's grin stretched wide. "Would you sing for me too, Barry?"
Barry swayed his hips to the song. That he could do with ease.
You don't own me, he sang louder than the recording, I'm not just one of your many toys
You don't own me
Don't say I can't go with other boys
His voice remained sultry rather than belting as the chorus began, and he pulled from Len to turn about and roll his hips, keeping his ass just barely an inch above Len's lap. He had the fishnets on up to his waist over a simple black thong.
He could hear the pull of leather as Len squeezed the arms of his chair. The simple touches others had started to give Barry, hands on his back, his shoulder, a hug, all fed the greatest need in him that he hadn't realized had grown large enough to swallow him whole, but if Len touched him, if he really touched him everywhere that Barry wanted him to, he might implode, might come that second just from the brush of a palm against his thigh.
Barry could bring himself to rapture in so many different ways, but he'd never had a partner. He wanted it to be Len.
The thong was small enough and he was so hard that he started to push out of the fabric as he turned again and dragged his hands down his thighs, then up his stomach and across his chest.
You don't own me
Don't try to change me in any way
You don't own me
Don't tie me down coz I'd never stay
Barry didn't break into the chorus this time, but straddled Len's lap like before, dropping his hips as low as he could without brushing fabric. His hands shook as he reached to take hold of Len's wrists, planning to lift them and show Len just how he wanted him to touch him.
But Len's phone erupted, throwing off Barry's rhythm and making his breath catch as he stumbled away to give Len room to answer. He'd never seen Len look so frustrated with a phone call before.
"What?" But the irritation soon fled to be replaced with shock, then determination, and he scooted to the end of his chair. "You're certain it was him? Yes, follow him. Put everyone we have on him. If he's finally showing his face, we're not losing him again."
The music playing became a dull backdrop as Barry shuffled toward the bed and didn't realize how far from Len he'd gotten until his thighs hit it. He sat to keep his balance. It had to be about Eobard. It had to be.
Len talked a few minutes more before he hung up, standing with intent to leave, to handle this himself, but he softened when his eyes landed on Barry.
"I know Cisco told Lisa what Eobard did to me," Barry said hollowly. "And Lisa told you, didn't she?"
"She did. Are you angry with Ramon for divulging that?"
"No. He's a good friend. He just wanted to make sure I was safe with you. That call was about Eobard, wasn't it?"
"Thawne was spotted at the edge of our territory, only a few blocks from here."
Barry felt cold and numb suddenly. "What are you going to do when you catch him?"
"What do you want me to do?"
"I…I-I don't know." Barry let his gaze drift to the floor. "He loved making sure that the only touches I knew were from him, and that they were never the kind of touches I wanted. A harsh hand on my arm. His knee in my back. His body hovering like he'd finally… But he never did anything. Why was it worse that he never did anything?"
Len walked to Barry slowly, standing before him with gentle affection and understanding in his eyes. "Sometimes my father would raise a hand and not strike, and that was always worse, coz you never knew when the hit would come later. If they were constant, I could have grown used to them. Lack of consistency is what drives us crazy. For you, Thawne kept building the anticipation, like a jump scare in a horror movie that doesn't come when you expect it but finally hits when you're not prepared anymore."
Barry smiled at the simple but apt analogy.
"If you never want to know, I don't have to tell you what happens to him," Len said. "You can simply choose to forget him. But if you want a more active role, you can have that too."
Active? For several seconds, Barry had no idea how to reply to that. "When you catch him, tell me. Maybe I'll know then."
XXXXX
Barry didn't want to stay at Len's apartment alone, so he got dressed, and Len dropped him off at the club. He wasn't scheduled tonight, but that didn't mean he couldn't be useful and supportive to the other dancers if he didn't feel like going up to his apartment.
He found himself in the dressing rooms, lacing up corsets and fixing eyeliner mistakes. It allowed him little ways to touch the others that calmed him like he'd always imagined it would. Len came in eventually to check on him because they hadn't caught Eobard yet. He just seemed to have disappeared.
"I'll find him. I promise."
Barry nodded. He'd never had someone care so much about something just for him. Sure, Eobard was a threat to Len too, to his hold on the territory, but Barry knew the real reason Len wanted to catch him was for Barry's sake.
"Whether you do or not, when you're ready to call it a night…will you come up to my apartment?" Barry asked, softly in the corner of the dressing room with the buzz of noise around them but no one paying them much mind, even if they were the headliner and the boss.
"Gladly," Len said, eyes softening again. They were so brilliantly blue when they looked at Barry like that. "Whatever you want."
It was late when Barry decided to head upstairs. He didn't want to go to sleep, so he decided to take a shower to wake himself up. He didn't like the feel of his apartment tonight. He didn't want to be anywhere alone. He just wanted Len to join him, whatever the outcome.
After he'd been in the shower for a few minutes, long enough to wash his hair and let the suds slide down his body, he heard the click of the shower door and braced himself for what it meant. Then he felt hands, large and lovely, slither around his waist.
"Len," he gasped, "oh, I've wanted you to touch me for so long."
"Len," a very different voice bit back, causing every one of Barry's nerves to freeze in terror. "He doesn't get to touch you, do you understand? You're mine. My whore. And I'm finally going to make good on all those promises we've been keeping."
Barry turned with a swing of his arm, but Eobard caught it, squeezed it tightly and slammed him back against the tile. He was fully clothed but didn't care that he got wet as he followed Barry into the shower, crowding him into the corner.
No. Barry couldn't be trapped like this. He couldn't be trapped by this man again. Summoning all his resentment and all of the power Len had given back to him, he surged forward, throwing Eobard into the door where he grunted as the sharp edge hit his back. Then Barry darted out of the shower, slipping and nearly tripping on the rug.
It didn't matter if he was naked, he had to get help. He had to get downstairs.
But grasping hands seized him before he could cross the living room and he tumbled hard to the floor, where Eobard crawled on top of him and rolled him over to straddle his waist. His hands on him, even just on his arms, were like livewire searing into Barry's skin.
"S-Stop."
"No one else gets to touch you," Eobard said like he had so many times. "I wanted you ripe and ready. Wanted you worthy of all the trouble I put into you. Now I'm going to take what's mine and what he thinks he can steal from me."
Barry's coat was on the sofa, thrown over the arm. He could just barely catch the sleeve and started to tug at it as Eobard's hands slid down his chest, his waist, his hips…
"This is what you were made for, Barry."
No. Not like this.
XXXXX
Len was anxious. Angry. They should have had Thawne by now but he was a phantom. Len wanted nothing more than to join Barry upstairs, but how could he face him and accept what he believed Barry was finally ready to offer him when Thawne haunted them like a curse?
He wanted to have good news for Barry when he headed for the back stairs that led to the apartment. Since he didn't, his steps slowed and he went over what he might say in his mind.
Better luck tomorrow? Sorry I didn't capture your tormentor?
If Len had one regret, it was that he hadn't ended his father's life by his own hands. He wasn't going to let Barry's abuser get away too, yet that's what had happened—again—months of failing to bring one man in.
Barry deserved better. Barry deserved everything Len could give him.
A thud startled him as he stood at the bottom of the stairs. Like something heavy falling. Like a body hitting the floor.
No.
Darting up the stairs two at a time, Len raced as fast as he could. He'd never been inside Barry's apartment, but now wasn't the time for propriety. He burst inside, already pulling his gun…
Only to find Thawne bleeding out on the floor from a gaping wound in his neck, mouth twitching but eyes open and empty as he lay dying. Then Len saw Barry, huddled on the other side of the room against the wall, naked and smeared with blood, holding Len's old pocket knife in his hand.
He'd kept it in his jacket, always close like Len had told him. The jacket was on the floor too.
"Barry…" Len called tentatively as he put his gun away, inching toward him.
Those lovely green eyes were staring at Thawne in disbelief. Len didn't want to think about what might have happened but took small solace in that Thawne's clothes were still on.
"Barry," he said again, crouching to get on Barry's level and reach for the knife.
Barry's eyes snapped to his, and when they did, they overflowed with what tears were already there, and his expression broke open. The knife fell from his hand before Len could grab it, and unexpected but welcome weight flew into Len's arms, holding so tight, Len had to gasp to take in a full breath.
Barry was touching him, willingly clinging. Len wrapped his arms around him in kind and held on just as tightly, which was when a true sob finally escaped as Barry bawled into his shoulder, soaking it with tears.
Good riddance, Len thought about Thawne. He'd gotten exactly what he deserved.
XXXXX
Only a scant few minutes passed where Barry and Len weren't in some sort of contact after that, even as Thawne's body was disposed of and cleared away. Len slept in Barry's bed that night, wrapped around him close, but they didn't do anything more, not then.
It was several nights later that Barry finally looked like he'd shaken off his ghosts.
"My place tonight? We didn't get to finish my last show."
"That sounds lovely, Barry."
Barry wore the first outfit Len ever saw him in, including the red heels with gold studs. He danced a little but not in Len's lap. He danced away from him as if to draw him back with him, even curled his finger come-hither until Len stood and joined him at the edge of the bed. Only then did Barry sit and scoot back on top of it.
This view was like no other Len had been given before, because he could see all of Barry as he shifted the fishnets, garter, and underwear down his hips, then parted his knees and rocked back to stretch himself with two talented fingers.
Len had been allowed to touch Barry's arm, his waist, pull him close, but anything more had to be asked of him. Barry knew that, so he only stretched himself the barest bit before he said:
"Len… I want you to finish it. I want you to touch me. To open me up. To have all of me."
"Say it again," Len said as he climbed onto the bed with him.
"Touch me."
Len went straight for Barry's thighs and ran his palms up the length of them. Barry moaned like he'd done something far more intimate, but this was intimate for Barry. It was everything, the first time he'd ever been truly touched.
Len massaged his thighs to feel the muscles, finely tuned as a dancer, then stroked up his hipbones and stomach to the edge of the corset. The ties were in the back, but it was easy with Barry laid out to undo the hooks in front. The corset fell open, allowing Len to spread his touch up Barry's chest.
"Everywhere," Barry gasped. "I want to feel you everywhere."
His demands were a pleasure to obey. The feel of his long neck with a tender caress and up into his hair along his scalp, which brought out fresh moans. Then back more swiftly along his legs to remove the lingerie completely, Len's thumb grazing Barry's legs the whole way down. He plucked off the shoes and tossed the bundle to the floor, while Barry tugged the corset from beneath him to do the same.
He was breathtaking bare.
Starting at his ankles, Len glided his hands up Barry's body, all the way to his shoulders before moving down his arms. The one place he didn't touch was where Barry was weeping wet and demanding the most attention.
"I want to taste you first," Len licked his lips as he looked at Barry. "All of you."
First kisses weren't always anything special, but even if Barry's lips and tongue hadn't felt amazing, his hands clawing at Len's shirt would have been enough to send him over the edge. Len wasn't ready to lose his own clothes yet. He hadn't tasted enough of Barry.
He kissed him long and hard before moving down that lovely jaw and neck and chest. After twirling his tongue along a nipple, he descended lower, relishing in all the firsts he was about to give Barry.
Which was when he realized, "You've never felt this before, have you?" as he took Barry into his mouth and sucked him down his throat.
Barry's cry was as pretty as his singing.
He came that instant, with Len's lips around him, clearly not having meant to, but Len could adjust and easily swallowed Barry down, licking at the mess left behind.
"I-I'm sorry…I didn't mean—"
"It's quite all right, Barry. I take it as a compliment. We'll give you another, don't you worry."
Getting Barry back to full hardness took no feat at all, not that Len was surprised. Exploring every part of Barry's body that he'd watched him explore on his own was everything Len had hoped it would be because of how much Barry loved it. And he was so responsive. By the time Len moved to stretch him, sinking his fingers in deep to hear Barry's lovely moans, he was already dripping wet again.
"Can I undress you?" Barry asked in a hoarse, breathless whisper.
"By all means."
Len didn't expect Barry to grab him by the front of his shirt and throw him to the bed, rolling over on top of him with a wild look in his eyes. Len couldn't have been more turned on.
Barry might have popped a button or two in his haste to get Len's shirt off. He might have popped the button on Len's slacks too, but Len didn't care. Having the kid's hands on him was just as amazing as touching him in return.
He let Barry explore every part of him, every curve and scar. Barry was tentative when he first brushed his fingers along Len's cock, making it bob to attention. He wanted to return the favor Len had bestowed on him, and Len wasn't going to refuse.
Barry's mouth was searing hot and tight as it enveloped him, taking in so much of him—and there was a lot of Len to take. He'd seen Barry take just as much with his toys, but this was decidedly better.
"Len," Barry moaned around his length, "I want to ride you."
Len's brain promptly shut off as he searched for the words to respond to that. He hoped his expression said yes as whole-heartedly as he felt it. It must have, because Barry got on top of him, braced one hand on his chest, and guided himself with the other, gripping Len tight at the base as he lowered himself slowly—
"Fuck," Len gasped at how slick and snug he felt. Months of watching and wanting had been worth the wait for Barry to lead them here.
Barry hummed agreement, starting to rock as soon as he'd seated himself fully. His cheeks were as scarlet as a ticket to his show, lips parted, eyes hazy as they centered on Len. He seemed to have the instinctive urge to go hard and fast to start, but as he looked at Len, he came to another conclusion and started to slow.
The moan that left him from taking his time was wicked.
"Good?"
"So good. So much better than having you watch."
Len wasn't sure how long he would last like this, finally having Barry, hands able to grip his hips, to slide up his stomach and touch everything he could reach. Barry's head lolled with the most contented smile, speeding up again when their rhythm demanded it and looking positively radiant on top of Len.
As Len grew close, he felt guilty for not thinking of a condom, but when he whispered, "I'm clean, haven't been with anyone in years, but—" Barry shook his head.
"Come inside me, Len, I trust you."
Trust. Which after meeting Barry was all Len had truly wanted from him.
So Len held on and finished with Barry riding him, amazed at how much this boy had come to mean to him. Barry thrust a few minutes more after that before he shuddered and came again too, staining Len's stomach for once instead of his own.
It was a strange, buzzing bliss that followed and didn't dwindle even after they'd wiped clean and lay side by side on Barry's bed.
"Ever since the first time, even when I'm in the glass room, I picture only you watching me."
Len grinned at the admission, knowing Barry was being wholly honest, but he had to be honest too. "If there's ever a time when you want to stop all this, stick to your studies…"
"Not yet." Barry trailed his fingers across Len's chest. "I really do enjoy it."
"I know."
"And that's…okay?"
Thawne's demeaning still rang in Barry's head on occasion, Len understood.
"That you enjoy something? Of course. You're very good at it, and I love watching you, whether it's a song, a dance, or this. I don't care if I share some part of that with others. I know what's mine and what you're worth. Assuming that's all right and that you want me to be yours?"
Barry's blush would always be one of his most attractive features, even now that Len had all of him and could touch any part he wished. "Yes," he said with the elation that once would have been missing anywhere but on stage. "More than anything."
THE END
Written for Stripper day for ColdFlash Week. Hope you enjoyed!