For the ColdFlash Big Bang!
Thank you to everyone who helped with ideas for this fic! This one's for YOU, especially all of the anons who helped on tumblr!
RedHead from AO3 gave me the actual plot on this one, and natanilik and DaughterofScotland gave some great ideas too.
The thing was…Barry needed to get off at least once a day.
Sometimes twice.
Sometimes it got embarrassing.
He couldn't help it! He'd never had a particularly overactive sex drive before. Not until the lightning, when his powers kicked up his metabolism, which included the most unnecessarily non-existent refractory period ever created—like what the hell, he'd gone five times back to back once when he was bored, and that was not normal!
It also wasn't nearly as awesome as people might think. When he was in the right frame of mind and wanted to get off, sure, it was great, but if some days he couldn't spare a few minutes for 'private time', his body tended to punish him. With very inopportune boners.
Nice looking man or woman happened to walk by? He was done. Stiff wind? Stiff Barry. Hell, even the mannequin his Flash suit hung on was enough to get his blood pumping sometimes.
And while Caitlin was aware of…some of that, if only because she was his one and only doctor and had looked after him for long periods of time and through impossible situations, they never talked about it. Rather, Barry never talked about it.
Mostly because…he was still a virgin.
He might be crap at keeping his secret identity quiet, but that secret he was taking to his grave.
A blast from the cold gun made Barry leap backward. He had plenty of time to dodge, but he was going to kill Snart anyway. This was not funny or at all endearing just because the thief grinned at him and said, "Just like old times, eh, kid?"
"Snart!" Barry shouted as he zipped forward in pursuit. He barely got a few feet before he stumbled and had to slow down, because his nemesis had iced the entire alley leading out of the bank toward his getaway vehicle. "You're supposed to be a good guy now, remember? Not back to robbing banks!"
"Don't recall making that promise, Flash." Snart tilted his head, safely down the alley beside his motorcycle. "But you call me next time some megalomaniac threatens the time stream—happy to oblige. In the meantime." He fired again, just barely grazing Barry's shoulder.
"Urg!" Barry shook off the sting of cold, backed up a step to get some traction, and flashed around the patch of ice by treading up the wall instead. He had his arms around Snart's waist from behind before the man could mount his bike. "Oh no you don't!" he said, tightening his hold around Snart's middle and pinning his arms—and the cold gun—to his sides. "I haven't had a night off in weeks, Snart, weeks, and tonight you decide to return to your roots? Can't you find another hobby?"
"And miss our quality time?" Snart purred, struggling back against Barry with a wriggle of his body.
His voice always had that sultry quality to it, low and lilting, teasing, but it was in full force tonight. His body also felt surprisingly warm despite not wearing the parka. He had a tweaked look ever since his time with the Legends.
Barry glanced down and noticed that Snart had a skirt on over his thermal pants. No—a kilt.
Barry shivered as if he'd been hit with the cold gun. Snart looked really good in a kilt.
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. This was bad. Barry had been completely honest when he said he hadn't had a night off in weeks. Nothing major had been going on, but a steady stream of lesser metas and common criminals still took its toll. He hadn't gotten his metabolism-mandated 'personal time' with enough frequency lately. He could feel himself starting to react to Snart's proximity; to his body decked out in a tight sweater and pants, and a kilt of all things; to his smell.
Shit. Barry fought with himself over whether or not to just let Snart go and uphold his integrity, or suck it up and do his duty while ignoring that he was—oh god, he really was.
Crime scenes! Barry thought, conjuring whatever negative stimuli he could think of, anything to get the blood flowing back to his brain. Uhh…singularity equations. Joe giving me a lection. Oliver giving me a lecture. That weird crud on the treads of the Flash suit. Ice cold hands. Snart's hands…
Well that didn't help any.
"Flash…" Snart drawled curiously. His body stiffened, stilled, and he pressed back against Barry as if unsure of what he was feeling. "My, my…someone giving you the cold shoulder lately? Or just that happy to see me?"
Barry flushed. "I—" but the cold gun blasted his foot before he could say anything, coating it in stinging, freezing ice. He yelped and released Snart, his right foot completely frozen to the pavement.
While Barry tried to summon his powers to vibrate his foot free—which was a lot harder with blood heading places it shouldn't be—Snart swung a leg over his bike. The way the kilt fanned out over the seat was not helping Barry's situation, even if his foot was iced over. He had to fight to not imagine Snart sitting there like that…on the bike, wearing a kilt…with nothing underneath.
Damn Barry's meta human libido.
"Mmm…might wanna take care of that," Snart nodded at Barry's very apparent hard-on through the Flash suit. His gaze lingered—or maybe that was Barry's imagination, but it certainly seemed to linger with an appraising tilt of his head and bite of his lower lip. Barry gulped when their gazes met. "I'd offer my assistance, Scarlet, but it's cool sailing from here on out with you on ice, and…well…I gotta flash." He smirked, gave an infuriating salute, and kicked the bike into gear with a pivot toward the other end of the alley. "Let's do this again sometime!"
"Snart!" Barry howled after him, vibrating faster, faster, almost enough to phase out of the ice instead of melting it if only he could focus. At least the cold and further embarrassment of the situation was starting to wilt his boner, but not quickly enough for him to get see which direction Snart went once he was free.
Cisco and Caitlin checked in with him over the comms. Not worried, barely paying attention since it was Cold he was facing. Criminal or martyr, Snart didn't exactly fight roughly anymore. Barry's vitals wouldn't have spiked noticeably with only his foot frozen—and if they had it wasn't because of the ice.
"I'm fine. Snart got away. Heading back to the Labs now."
Maybe Barry could have zipped around nearby alleys to track Snart down, but he didn't have the energy. He didn't think he could face the man anyway; he definitely couldn't look him in the eyes any time soon. He trudged back to the Labs defeated, and even though it was Saturday tomorrow and it had already been a long night, after checking in with Cisco and Caitlin, he decided to take the slow way home and patrol a little more to clear his head.
Barry was fully aware that he had a date with his right hand, but he'd do so after he ran off any lingering thoughts of Leonard Snart.
His fantasies were in overdrive as he ducked behind buildings, across rooftops, and along the usual haunts where midnight purse snatchers might be lurking, which distracted him from being at all effective in his patrolling. The thing about being a virgin was he could only imagine what someone else might feel like…touching him, with mouth and hands and…
Urg, everything had been so much easier before the lightning. He could just ignore it then. But now, whenever he got hot, which was far too often, he had to do something about it immediately or lose his mind. Or get a hard-on while pressed up against his nemesis apparently.
He just wished he had the time to pursue someone. It had been the same story when he was a normal human rushing his way through college and two degrees, headlong into the police force until he had a private lab at his disposal. Barry had things to do—he had his father to save. Simply put, he hadn't had time for romance, let alone an active sex life.
With Linda, he'd thought he finally might…
But then his powers had gotten in the way.
With Patty, they were taking things slow. Which Barry appreciated and respected. He'd almost gotten comfortable enough with her to admit that he'd never slept with anyone before, when that crumbled into dust too and she was gone.
It was just too hard being The Flash and Barry Allen. The only person who knew Barry was still a virgin was Iris, and that…yeah, that would never happen.
Barry sighed. Maybe a romp with some stranger, with someone less weighty in his life, maybe even with someone like Snart would be better, so he could stop thinking about this being bigger than it had to be.
At the end of his final few blocks of patrol, he stopped to rest at the park, enjoying the view and the stillness since it was blessedly quiet this time of night and—huh, not empty.
A woman appeared out of the trees in front of Barry, carrying a rather bulging bag over her shoulder, and as if on cue, a nearby burglar alarm blared through the quiet. As the woman stuttered to a stop at the sight of Barry, the startled expression that crossed her face, the way she tightened her hold on the bag, stiffening defensively, more than gave away that she had been the cause of the alarm.
"Hold it right there," Barry said. He still had his Flash suit on; he could command authority. He moved forward slowly as the woman pivoted around him, her surprise falling to a confident smirk.
She had long wavy red hair, dark eyeliner, and a high collared purple dress with a Victorian flare that screamed steampunk.
"Look, it's been a long night. If you recognize me then you know you can't run. How about you put down whatever it is you stole and walk away, and I promise I won't follow you?"
The woman chuckled. She looked at the bag she carried but didn't drop it. "It was stolen from me first," she said, her voice low and rough like a jazz singer.
"I'm sure the police can help you work that out."
"Can't involve the police," she said, while the alarm continued to blare in the distance. "Can't risk this book ending up in evidence. You should walk away, Flash. Take your own advice and we'll forget all about this."
Barry shook his head at her audacity, readying himself to speed toward her. "Walking isn't my style. I'll ask again—"
"Hate to sideline you, honey," the woman interrupted, finally ceasing her constant pacing, "you're a good sort, and I know you mean well, but I don't have time for this. Can't have you tracking me later, either, so I'm afraid I'll have to take you out of commission for a day or two. You understand."
Barry was done trying to negotiate, but before he could spring into action, the woman's eyes lit up with a flash of violet light. Crap, a meta human. Or…magic user? The way something like Latin fell from her lips definitely suggested magic.
Barry surged forward—or at least he tried to. When he attempted to spring into action, he found he couldn't move.
The woman's red hair rose as if a wind emitted from her body, and her eyes sparked brighter. "You see, Flash, my particular gift is Sight—I see the truths people think they need to hide. So tell me…" she walked closer to him, still ethereal with how her hair floated around her shoulders, "what's your secret?"
Oh no…she was going to read his identity!
"Hmm…there seems to be something preoccupying your mind tonight. Oh." She grinned as if looking into Barry's soul down to his deepest, most humiliating secrets.
Oh god. The blood drained from Barry's face and he ached to move—to twitch, groan, something—because of course this was happening now. Of course a witch in the middle of the park he'd just happened to stumble upon was looking into his mind tonight and learning that The Flash was a hard-up, lonely virgin.
He'd rather she knew his name.
"Now, Flash, don't be embarrassed," she said, a glowing purple menace before him. "You know those stories about virgin blood being powerful? Bullshit. Purity is powerful, and you are purer than you know, but not because you haven't tasted pleasures of the flesh. However, if it means that much to you, how about you try things at human speed for a while, until you find someone worthy of taking that 'burden' from you."
Wait, what?
More Latin fell from her lips and she snapped her fingers. Barry stumbled forward. He could move again! He made to dart toward her—but he could only move at normal speed. No flash of lightning, no surge of energy, nothing. She was serious.
Barry froze, stunned as he looked down at his hands, at his legs, like there must be some other explanation for why his powers were suddenly gone, but nothing presented itself other than a lingering coil of purple light dissipating from his body.
"Get laid, Flash," the witch's voice prompted him to look up again. She'd backed away a few steps by the trees, and just before she turned and fled between them, she said, "Then you can have your powers back."
"Wait!" Barry chased after her, average running speed be damned, but by the time he burst through the trees on the other side of the park, she was gone. He huffed at how much that short sprint had winded him. "You have got…to be kidding me."
Barry searched the edges of the park for another twenty minutes, but he found no trace of the witch. Eventually, he had to admit defeat.
The worst part was having to move at normal speed to get home—in the Flash suit—while avoiding being seen. Once he got to the house, he still waited around a few minutes before he snuck in through the back. It was too late to call Cisco or Caitlin, or to bother anyone else with this. Maybe if he slept on it, he'd wake up and discover it had all been a dream.
No such luck. The next morning, Barry still didn't have his speed. And despite not having his powers, he'd still needed to jerk-off before leaving bed.
"A witch cursed you?" Cisco gaped.
Barry had waited as long as humanly possible before calling in the cavalry. He did not want to have to explain the situation. There had to be some way to get his powers back without following the witch's orders.
While Caitlin checked Barry over physically, Cisco, Joe, and Iris stood around with pinched expressions trying to come up with ideas.
"And she didn't say anything about you performing a task of some kind to get the curse lifted?" Cisco pressed.
"Uhh…no." Barry shifted on the hospital bed.
"That's odd. Isn't that how curses usually work?" Iris said, as if this were a perfectly normal topic of conversation—though for them, it sort of was.
"Right?" Barry laughed a little too nervously while scratching the back of his neck. "Weird. So, umm…can you figure out a way to get my speed back?" He turned to Cisco while Iris eyed him suspiciously.
Cisco seemed confident in his abilities to thwart the curse, but as the day dragged on into evening, nothing they attempted had any affect. Barry still had the meta human gene, still had the Speed Force, still had the same blood work and vitals he always had, but no matter what they did, he couldn't access his speed.
"Sorry, man, this just isn't a job for science. We need magical help," Cisco said. "You sure you're not forgetting something the witch told you?"
Barry may have backed his way out of the Labs at that point, saying he'd just sleep on it again, he'd be fine, and yes, thank you, please see if Oliver's sorcerer friend has any ideas, but for now he needed some air.
He knew he was being ridiculous, but even if he did come clean to his friends, what could they do to help him other than…volunteer? And God no—no way. Barry would never put any of them in that position, especially not Iris after she'd denied his love confession twice.
Barry paced through the streets of Central City for nearly an hour after leaving the Labs, annoyed at how slow he was now, how tired simply walking left him, until he found himself at his wits end, standing in a convenience store far from his own neighborhood, staring at the aisle of condoms and lube, and a few things he wasn't even sure the uses for.
There was specific lube for anal? Why had he never known that? And what made it different exactly? Did he need specific condoms to fit him properly? Would his powers even let him use one, like…what if his electricity sparked when his powers came back and melted it or something?
Oh god, what if his powers came back right as he climaxed and went haywire? He couldn't just pick someone up in a bar. What if he hurt them? What if the witch showed up at the last second and attacked? What if the person he went home with realized he was The Flash and tried to blackmail him like Snart?
"We keep meeting like this, Scarlet," a familiar voice invaded Barry's thoughts and—shit, Snart?!
Barry flailed back as he turned to the thief—Snart, standing there in the condom aisle beside him, wearing dark jeans and a leather jacket like he just woke up like that every day, flawless and gorgeous and smoldering.
Of course Snart was smirking at him. Of course he was. He nodded at the condoms. "Think fate's trying to tell us something?"
God, Barry hated this guy. Who did he think he was being all sexy and smooth and…right there when Barry had been thinking about him and sex in the same sentence, and after he'd given Barry a hard-on and left him unsatisfied last night. Not that Barry wanted Snart to satisfy him! That was a terrible…terrible idea.
Wasn't it?
"Cat got your tongue, Barry?"
Barry stared rather than answer, contemplating Snart with his effortless attractiveness even while carrying a basket filled with mundane essentials like milk, bandages, and…was that a Skor bar? Barry loved those.
He had to focus. He couldn't actually consider asking Snart to, for lack of a better term, steal his virginity. He hadn't really meant the idea when he thought of it last night for a brief, passing moment. Snart was just teasing him. He always teased him, so of course that would increase after last night's debacle. But as much as Barry knew the idea was crazy, the longer he stood there and regarded the man before him, the more he couldn't help thinking that Snart was actually the perfect choice.
If Snart was interested, which Barry thought was at least marginally likely, then Barry wouldn't have to tell him anything about the witch or being a virgin, same as if he'd found a stranger. If the magic user showed up, or if Barry's powers kicked in as he orgasmed, it wouldn't be a big deal, because this was Snart; he could handle himself.
Plus, it could just be sex, no expectations, no ruining any of his current relationships. With Snart it could be easy. It could be everything Barry needed. And it wasn't as if Barry wasn't curious about what the thief looked like under his many layers…
Snart stared back at Barry expectantly, eyebrow raised since Barry hadn't said anything.
Swallowing back his nerves, Barry stepped into Snart's space, trying his damnedest to be bold, maybe even seductive, despite the way Snart's eyes flicking down his body and up again made Barry's face feel hot. Made a lot of him feel hot.
"What if fate is trying to tell us something?" Barry said in a near whisper.
Snart visibly swallowed, and stared at Barry's lips. "That hard up, huh?"
"If I say yes, will you shut up and get out of here with me?"
Snart's eyes widened a fraction in surprise before they narrowed, skeptical that the offer was real.
Barry looked Snart square in the eyes, leaned in closer, smelling the spice of Snart's heady cologne, and said, "You can add whatever you want from this aisle to that basket, and I'll meet you outside. No tricks. No ulterior motives." Snart's eyes dilated as Barry stared into them. "Wherever you want to go. Whatever you want to do. Just so long as condoms are involved and no cold gun."
A humored huff left Snart's lips, but as he read in Barry's expression that he was indeed serious, the man's usually controlled composure faltered. He collected himself quickly, and flicked his eyes down Barry's body again. "Sounds fun. No other requests?"
Barry pulled off the last of his wavering bravado with a whispered, "Surprise me," and turned on his heel to leave the aisle before the flush to his face could give him away.
Waiting outside on the street corner helped cool Barry's heated skin but it didn't do much to squelch his nerves. He checked his phone. Everyone was worried, messaging him to come back to the Labs or come home.
Caitlin: Are you sure you're okay, Barry?
Cisco: Aren't you more freaked out about this?
Joe: Let me know when you're coming home.
Iris: I know you're not telling us everything.
Iris always knew when he was keeping something to himself, but if Barry confessed the truth now, they'd just try to talk him out of going home with Snart, and this was the best solution Barry could come up with. So instead, he sent a group message:
I lied. She told me how to break the curse, it's just personal and a little embarrassing, so I need to sort it out myself. I'll be fine. Don't wait up. I'll have everything fixed by morning.
Then he turned off his phone.
"Hotel? Or do you trust me enough to go where I lead you?" Snart jarred Barry back to the present, just the two of them standing on a dark yet peaceful street corner, with Snart spotlighted ethereally beneath the lamps like he'd walked into a midnight photoshoot.
Barry shook his head as he fought a smile. "I trust you to always take what you want. So, if that means you're smart enough to wait until morning before you try to con me…lead the way."
There was a hunger in Snart's eyes that Barry usually only ever saw when the thief had his sights on his next score, which…damn. Barry gulped, and tried not to stray his eyes too much to the bag in Snart's hand or wonder at its contents.
"In that case, I expect the address I take you to will remain between us?" Snart asked.
"You can expect all of this to remain between us," Barry said.
Snart nodded then gestured down the street for Barry to follow him.
Barry startled when they reached their destination after only two blocks. That had not been enough time for him to psych himself up for this. He told himself to calm down as he followed Snart into an apartment building. He could do this. He'd wanted this for so long, and even if there were extenuating circumstances involved, it was hard to imagine a more tantalizing partner than Leonard Snart.
Barry was so out of his league.
"Any other upcoming heists I should worry about?" Barry asked as he tailed Snart to the third floor, pushing for more of their bantering small talk to banish his nerves.
Snart smirked as he took out his key. "You'll be the first to know. But if this is a ruse to get my spoils from last night, that caveat about no cold gun will change very quickly." He paused with his hand on the doorknob and shot Barry a calculating glance.
"It's not a ruse," Barry said plainly.
"Well then…" Snart pushed the door open.
The apartment was not what Barry expected. He'd assumed this was some sort of safehouse, but the warmth to the place, the simple Snart charm, with a piece of abstract art on the wall and an impressive but not outlandish entertainment system, made it feel more like a home.
There was even…
"Is that us?" Barry crossed the room to a framed newspaper article. It was an impressive shot of Barry and Snart facing off against each other to go along with one of Iris's articles.
"I liked that one," Snart said. "Miss West called me 'diabolically cool and collected'. I appreciate the flattery."
Barry chuckled as he turned to Snart, who'd shed his shoes and was removing his jacket. The bag from the convenience store rested on the kitchen island. Barry couldn't keep his eyes from straying to it now.
"Can't say I haven't thought about this," Snart said.
"Really?"
"Obviously you have as well or you wouldn't have gotten so…excited having me in your arms last night."
"That wasn't—" Barry fought a blush but scowled when Snart smirked at him. "Can we not bring that up? Like…ever?"
"Embarrassed?"
"Mortified."
"Don't be. Wouldn't want you to feel that way when I get you hard on purpose."
Barry stiffened as Snart advanced on him with a predatory gleam in his eyes. One hand reached for his face and slid a surprisingly soft thumb along the edge of his cheek on the way to grasp his neck and pull him closer. Barry's own hand quivered as he floundered for a grip at Snart's hip and twisted in the edge of his sweater.
Snart kissed him, and Barry shivered as if he'd been coated in ice. Snart's tongue teased Barry's lips gently, coaxing him to surrender as expertly as he gave an eloquent speech.
This can be easy, Barry thought. And it was easy to part his lips and let Snart in. Easy to slowly taste the other man and pull him closer against his body. Their mouths met and moved for an endless stream of seconds. Snart was so warm…
"Oh, Scarlet…" Snart whispered, "…you are going to feel so good."
"I hope so…" Barry shivered again.
Snart grinned as he stroked Barry's cheek. "Doubting my skills already?"
"No. Not even a little." Barry drew Snart's hand down and tugged him further into the apartment. "Come on. Or did you want to do this in the kitchen?"
"So impatient," Snart chuckled, following Barry part of the way before he pulled back. "Bedroom's up the stairs. Be right there."
"Okay." Barry assumed Snart wanted to lock up, get what he needed from the bag, maybe use the bathroom.
That was a good idea actually. Barry toed his shoes off at the foot of the stairs and climbed up to the lofted bedroom. A half bath was tucked into the corner which Barry made use of, before discarding his jacket on a chair by a table covered in books.
Good Omens sat next to something in Russian, a nonfiction book on recent advancements in security technology, and The Time Machine. Barry had to smile at the array of titles. He moved to Snart's dresser and his smile softened at a framed photograph of the man as a young teenager with a maybe five-year-old Lisa. Snart had surprisingly poofy hair.
Barry was right: this was Snart's home. He wondered if Snart would have ever brought him here before his time with the Legends.
"Feel free to make yourself comfortable," Snart said, entering with the elusive bag in tow. He set it on the chair on top of Barry's jacket.
"Oh…" Barry hadn't thought to get undressed. He didn't really…no, he could say it—he had no idea what he was doing.
"Or do I get to unwrap this exquisite gift?" Snart grinned wider on his approach. How did he make everything he said seem both scripted and natural? He cupped Barry's cheek again, and—wow he really was warm for someone called Captain Cold.
"That would be nice…" Barry leaned into Snart's touch, but he didn't want to seem too green about all this, even if he planned to let Snart lead, so he leaned forward to kiss the other man first. Barry slid his hands around Snart's waist and backed them toward the bed.
Snart kissed with incredible depth and precision, like a poet building verses. God, Barry was such a hopeless romantic, but then, so was Snart. He was romantic and dramatic in everything he did. A huge nerd, really. A gorgeous, outrageous nerd…
His warm hands dropped to Barry's waist and pushed up beneath the fabric of his shirt. Barry could count on one hand how often he'd gotten even this far with someone, before something inevitably ruined it or he chickened out. There was nothing to interrupt them now.
Snart slid his palms up Barry's bare chest, teasing along the grooves of muscle slowly, like he wanted to map every nuance of Barry's dips and edges. The intimacy made Barry quiver.
"You're trembling," Snart whispered.
"I-I'm, uhh…ticklish."
"Are you now…?" Snart dragged his nails lightly around Barry's sides to his back and started to lift the shirt up. Once it was off, Barry reached out to remove Snart of his shirt to help hide his shaking hands.
He didn't mean to stare when Snart's shirt hit the floor, he'd just never seen the other man bare before. Never seen anything lower than his collarbone or higher than his wrists.
Snart was a canvas of color. All down his arms, across his chest, down to his waistline, as high as his clavicle and likely around his back the same way. Sure, he'd been in prison, but Barry hadn't expected so much…art. It was only when he reached out to trace the faded shadows of an inverted snowflake on Snart's ribs that he noticed the scar tissue beneath.
Snart tugged Barry against him and kissed him harder, maybe to distract Barry from asking any questions about what he'd found. Barry understood. He'd read Snart's files, heard the truth from Lisa, even had the displeasure of meeting Lewis—he didn't have to ask.
The bed gave way beneath them, and Barry got lost in the feeling of Snart's bare skin, the smooth ink and bubbled texture of scars. He got lost in the weight of Snart above him, in the press of his hands and slide of his tongue. Until that tongue moved to the sensitive skin of Barry's neck, and a hand drifted to his waistband to undo his jeans.
Barry sucked in a breath. He wanted this, he did. It felt good, it could be so good with Snart, he just…he didn't usually get past this part. With Linda this was when he'd started to vibrate.
As if to compensate for his lack of powers, Barry's trembling got away from him and he couldn't stop shaking, breath heavy, eyes clenching shut to still his nerves as Snart's hand slid inside his jeans and palmed him.
Oh god…
"Barry…you're shaking," Snart said, but not with the same amusement as before. The movement of his hand stilled.
"I t-told you…" Barry stammered, forcing his eyes to open. "Ticklish."
Snart's face was too close, reading Barry's every twitch, his every thought. He removed the hand from the jeans and pulled up. "What's going on?"
"Nothing! I'm fine. It's fine. Don't stop…" He grabbed Snart's hand and tried to pull it back to the beginnings of dark hair on his stomach.
Snart frowned, refusing to be moved. The way he scrutinized Barry, his eyes might as well have been glowing like the witch. "You want this, Barry, I am more than happy to provide. You don't…then I'm a little confused about what we're doing here."
"I want this! I do. I want to do this," Barry said.
"Just not with me."
"It's not that! It's not you." Damn it, Barry was ruining everything. "It's not because it's you. You are exactly who I want tonight. You are not the problem."
"Then what is?" Snart refused to let up without an answer.
"I've just…" Barry closed his eyes again, "…never done this before."
Snart snorted. "Didn't peg you for the one-night stand type."
"No, I…" He peeked his eyes open to find Snart smiling down at him. Barry could lie. He could just lie. "I mean…" Fuck."I've never done this before," he said more deliberately.
Snart blinked at him. "With…a man?"
"With anyone."
The blood drained from Snart's face as he stared at Barry. Slowly, he pushed up into a sitting position. "Start talking. That's not the only thing you're hiding."
Damn this brilliant, beautiful man for being so perceptive. In more of a scramble than Snart's elegant motion, Barry sat up next to him, side by side with Leonard Snart, on his bed, in his home. Barry couldn't have foreseen this. Coming clean about his reasons for being there was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid, but now there was no escaping it.
He took a breath…and told Snart everything. That yes, he was a virgin—a twenty-six-year-old virgin, which he knew wasn't unheard of or anything to feel shame over, it just made so many things in his life harder, "And please don't make a pun about that." Then he told Snart about how the witch had showed up after their encounter at the bank.
Snart was quiet while Barry explained, his face oddly expressionless for a man usually so animated, though his countenance gradually hardened into something more like ice. Was he really that angry with Barry for lying to him?
"Let me get this straight," Snart said sharply. "Some...witch…is holding your powers ransom, and forcing you to have sex against your will to get them back?"
"What?" Barry straightened. "Not against my will. I mean…I chose to be here—"
"But you wouldn't have without her involvement." Snart rose from the bed, a menacing aura rippling off of him. "Where is she? Someone needs to put this harpy on ice and teach her what is and isn't allowed in my city."
"Snart." Barry leapt from the bed after him, since Snart had bent down to retrieve his shirt, looking intent on getting the cold gun next from wherever he stashed it. Barry grabbed his arms. "I don't know where she is. And even if I did, it…it's okay—"
"It is not okay," Snart snapped upright, forcing Barry's hands to fall away as he flinched back. Snart hadn't raised his voice, but there was a fierceness in him now that rattled Barry. The designs of the tattoos shifted in the light as his muscles rippled with tension, making the skin of the scar tissue stand out even more. "Some of us don't get a choice in how fast we grow up. Those that do, own those choices." He leaned back as his honesty seemed to catch up with him. "You shouldn't have to do this until you want it."
"But I do want it," Barry surged forward, unable to stop the flow of words that left him. "I have wanted it. For years. I've just had…bad luck, and the wrong people, been too busy, and a million other things. But you have no idea how much I just want to be with someone." Barry saw the tightness in Snart's brow and spoke on quickly, "And not just anyone. I thought I could, but I don't want that. I was planning on picking up some stranger and just getting this over with so I could get my powers back. Then you were there and I was so…annoyed, to be honest," he admitted, which made Snart snort in an eruption of unintended laughter.
Barry smiled. "But after I stopped to think about it…about you…I felt so relieved you'd showed up. I know I'm naïve about a lot of things, okay, and that's why you tease me about being a kid, but I can make my own decisions. I know what I want. Who I want. You're a good person, Snart, just like I've always said. I mean, look at you, ready to jump to my defense, and this doesn't even have anything to do with you."
"Doesn't have…" Snart's frown returned. "You asked me to sleep with you, without telling me the whole story."
"I didn't mean—" Barry broke off when Snart made to step back. He reached for Snart's hand, which at least he didn't try to pull away. "I'm sorry. I thought it would be easier if you didn't know. But I don't only want this because some witch is keeping my powers hostage. I'm nervous, okay, and I don't know what I'm doing, but I want this. I still want to do this. If you do? You could…show me how good it can be." He dropped his eyes as he said that, feeling so young and foolish, as he ran his thumb back and forth along Snart's hand. "Believe me, if sixteen-year-old Barry could have seen through a crystal ball that you could be my first time…that decade would have gone a lot faster."
Shyness and insecurity kept Barry's eyes on the floor, waiting for the rejection he knew was coming. He hadn't realized how much he wanted this just because he wanted it until, once again, the chance to be with someone was about to slip through his fingers. His nerves had sabotaged him, and soon Snart would pull away, tell him, "Too bad, kid, hit the road," and Barry would be back to square one—powerless, desperate, and alone.
When Snart's hand did finally pull away, Barry let it go, didn't fight the disconnection, because he deserved this. He'd planned to use Snart without being honest with him, which was…well, maybe something the old Snart would have done, but it wasn't the way they were supposed to be with each other now when they were (mostly) on the same side.
Barry summoned the strength to back away, but warm hands suddenly stopped him, reaching for his face and the curve of his hip.
"If you're sure," Snart said.
There was softness in Snart's expression when Barry looked up, not only hunger. Barry sank into his touch. "I'm sure. So sure, I swear."
"Still wish I'd known the truth."
"I know, I'm sorry—"
"Woulda filled that basket with a few more things."
"Really?" Barry perked up, searching Snart's face, where he found the familiar tease of a smirk.
"We'll make do. Come here." Snart pulled Barry into his body and kissed him, only this time he was gentler, almost tentative, feeling Barry out in ways he hadn't before. Reading Barry anew, trying to gauge what he wanted. Snart was a master strategist in everything he did—even Barry, apparently.
Barry reminded himself that kissing…kissing he could do. He wasn't completely inexperienced. He was a good kisser. Snart didn't need to treat him like glass. So he delved in deep with his tongue and shifted his hips closer.
Snart hummed, and kissed back rougher in response. The intensity and returning press of their bodies didn't make Barry's stomach flip this time. Having everything out in the open made things easier—made it better.
They tumbled onto the bed, scrambling to get back into position while still connected at their lips. Then Barry's hand brushed over a particularly large scar along Snart's side.
"Hey, umm…what did you mean…some people grow up too fast?"
Snart's eyes darkened, before he stretched one corner of his mouth into a smile that wasn't real. "Thought you were an investigator."
And yeah, Barry could infer plenty from what Snart had said, from his anger at any possible loss of consent between them.
"We're here now," Snart said, brushing his fingers along Barry's cheek, as if to counteract every time he'd ever been struck by an enemy. "Exactly where we want to be. Right?"
"Right," Barry nodded earnestly.
Snart dove back in to claim Barry's lips, and they shifted slowly, ever in contact, up the bed. The slide of Snart, even with both of them still wearing jeans, felt sinfully good against Barry's body. He still trembled, but more controlled now, because Snart knew, and he'd take care of Barry, he'd make it good for him.
"Gotta ask, Scarlet…what definition we going off of here?" Snart asked between presses of his lips to Barry's neck, his knees straddling Barry's hips.
"Huh? Oh…uh…I don't know…"
"What have you done?"
"Umm…" Barry ducked his head. "Not much. No…orgasms with outside assistance."
"That all you need?"
"To break the curse?" He looked back up at Snart, whose expression held no trace of mocking. "Maybe? But no, I think it's based on what it means to me, since she was looking in my head when she cast it. And to me I've always thought more of…well, you know…" He held up his hands but wasn't entirely sure what he was attempting to mimic. "Either I'd…or someone else would…"
"Barry," Snart said in his most chiding voice, "if you can't even say the words…"
"Penetration," Barry spit out, feeling his cheeks redden the second Snart's lips twitched. "Okay? I get that's like… puritanical bullshit and shouldn't matter, and whatever works for other people is fine for them, but for me…I mean, that's just…that's what I always—"
"What you wanted," Snart nodded resolutely. "Then that's what we'll do."
"We will?"
"You did have me get the appropriate supplies." Snart sat back on Barry's thighs, and rested his hands on the expanse of lean stomach, long fingers tapping rhythmically, as the hunger returned to his expression. "Have you really never had anyone else's hands on you before?"
"Uhh…" Barry involuntarily bucked up, "not much. Or for very long." Snart's fingers started to trail downward. "Umm…like I said, always got interru…interrup…" Barry's eyes fluttered into the back of his head as Snart's hand slid inside the opening of his jeans and right beneath the elastic of his underwear to find skin. Words failed him as Snart's fingers traced down his length, which was so different from touching himself.
"You like that, Barry?" Snart asked—and seriously, his voice should be illegal.
"Uh huh…" Barry answered in a slightly higher pitch. He kept his eyes closed so he could focus on the feel of Snart's fingers, the gentle touch and then firm grip that followed. Barry whimpered.
"We'll find all the things you like…"
"Yeah…" Barry panted. "It's not like I never…touch myself, you know, but…"
"This is better."
"So much better…"
Snart paused to tug Barry's jeans and underwear down his hips, and Barry lifted up to accommodate. Then the hand returned, better than before because nothing encumbered it. Snart's fingers encased Barry, slid down and up his length with a passing thumb over his slit to gather the budding wetness, and stroked him firmly.
Barry sagged into the mattress. He blinked at Snart sitting on the bunched up jeans and underwear at his thighs, stroking his cock, just—wow.
"Wow."
"Feeling more relaxed?" Snart smirked.
Barry wet his lips and nodded.
"Where do you like to touch yourself, Barry? We'll start there…then find all the spots you don't know about yet."
Fuck, that voice.
Barry thought about the rivulets of pleasure that had shot down his body when Snart kissed his neck. He lifted a hand to trail behind his ear, along his hairline to his clavicle. "Here…" he said as he shuddered at his own light touch. "I'm pretty sensitive everywhere. More so since the lightning. But this spot always makes me…tingly. Is that weird?" He scowled as he dropped his hand down again.
Snart smiled at him with fond exasperation. "There is no weird in this, Barry, only preference." His hands moved away from Barry's now very eager erection and slid up his sides to his shoulders as he leaned forward. Snart's stomach dragged along Barry's cock as he bent to his neck and licked a stripe up to his ear, then sucked hard and wet on the sinew of skin.
Barry shivered when Snart blew cool air over the skin and fine hairs he'd wet with his tongue. Snart moved higher, then a little lower, raising goosebumps in his wake until he found the perfect dip in the curve of Barry's jaw. Barry bucked up against him, and the slide of his dick against Snart's abs felt amazing.
Snart's hands were so warm, and soft, with only light calluses, like he worked hard, got his hands dirty, sure, but then always took care of them afterward. With the way Snart painted a picture with his hands when he spoke, it was no wonder. They felt so good sliding along Barry's skin as the man's mouth and tongue worked along his neck.
A thumb brushed over Barry's nipple and he sucked in a sharp breath at how it made him harden further, both at the touch and between his legs.
"Here?" Snart asked, rubbing circles with his thumb around the nub.
"Yeah…" Barry agreed, certain he was melting where he lay as Snart continued to thumb the raised bit of skin. "Can you, uhh…"
"Yes…?"
"…with your mouth?" It felt so strange to actually ask for what he wanted, which was ridiculous; how could anyone get what they wanted if they didn't ask for it? Still, his cheeks felt hot, gut coiling with a surge of nerves again to actually say the words.
Snart's lips were already shiny and reddened when he pulled up from Barry's neck. "Absolutely."
Barry gasped louder when Snart bent down to run his tongue over the nipple and sucked and nipped with his teeth. Barry bucked up again, and again, and shit, Snart's jeans had to go, and so did the binding mess of Barry's.
"Can you…get these clothes off?" Barry huffed.
"Gladly."
A new shiver raced through Barry from the loss of heat when Snart pulled away, but it was better, so much better when his underwear and jeans were removed, and then…then Snart stood off the side of the bed to unzip his.
Barry watched with rapt attention, and Snart ate up every moment of being ogled. He made sure to face Barry, to draw things out as he drew down the zipper and shimmied the jeans from his hips, pulling his underwear down with them. Some of the ink went low down Snart's thighs.
Barry took it all in—everything—and flushed when Snart paused to stroke himself once, twice, after he'd kicked his jeans away. Barry licked his lips. Snart put all the porn Barry had ever watched to shame, he was so beautiful. The art of the tattoos, the toned muscle giving way to just the right amount of softness.
"You can look at me like that anytime, Scarlet," Snart said, backing away to make sure Barry got a good view, before he turned and went to the chair with the convenience store bag. "Might just render me incapable of winning next time we fight."
"Giving me pointers on how to beat you?" Barry grinned, running a hand deliberately down his chest as he buzzed in the throng of his heightened nerves.
"Win-win for me," Snart said. He walked back to the bed with the bag, and started to unload its contents onto the nightstand. "Business as usual, I'm likely to be the victor."
"You think so, huh?"
"But you give me that look…" he cocked his head at Barry, "…maybe we find other ways to pass the time."
Imagine that—The Flash foiling heists by giving Captain Cold bedroom eyes. Barry giggled. But his attention was soon drawn to what Snart revealed from the bag, which…wasn't anything crazy, Barry didn't know what he had been expecting. Just some simple KY, basic condoms, and…two Skor bars.
"Did you get one for me?" Barry asked.
"Caught you eyeing it." Snart set the candy aside, but readied the rest within easy reach. He climbed back onto the bed and tucked in beside Barry. When Barry rolled to face him, the brush of their cocks made his hips stutter. "Careful, now…take your time." Snart gripped Barry's arms and slowed the rock of their bodies, letting them tease past each other hot and deliberate. "No need to flash through this."
"S-Sorry." Barry snickered at the pun. "Always felt like…like I needed to rush to make this happen."
"You don't have to rush with me." Once more, Snart's hand found Barry's cheek, always seeking to frame his face somehow. "I'm all about slowing you down, remember?"
With Snart's thumb hooked around his jawline, hips moving glacially, too slow to do more than torture them both, Barry pressed one hand to the center of Snart's chest and felt the steady beat of his heart. He wanted to tease the infamous Captain Cold—always knew you had good in you—but as he grinned and looked into those blindingly blue eyes, the joke fell away, and instead he just felt light and happy—which may have been the endorphin rush, but still.
"Thank you," Barry said, not meaning to be so cheesy, but he didn't regret the words when they left him.
Snart stilled, like he'd never been thanked for sex before—which he probably hadn't, Barry doubted that was usually part of sexual banter, but he meant it. It wouldn't have been like this with anyone else.
While they rocked against each other, Snart pulled Barry in closer, letting their foreheads press together as he trailed the hand on Barry's face down…down…all the way…and gripped Barry tight.
"Feel how wet you are, Barry?"
Barry quivered. "Uh huh…"
"Feel how wet you make me…?" He grasped Barry's wrist and pulled his hand down too.
Barry tentatively curled his fingers around Snart when he felt him. "Wow…" he breathed—always thinking that word, because this man was beautiful, and clever, and so surprisingly kind. Barry stroked Snart a few times, and shivered when Snart returned the favor.
"You sure you want this?"
Barry nodded emphatically.
"Ever stretch yourself?"
Oh god. "A-A little. With my fingers. Never any toys. I…I didn't want my first time to…"
"I get it. This," Snart bucked into Barry's hand and tugged more firmly on Barry in turn, "is not a toy. But you still hold all the control. At any time, you wanna slow down, speed up, go deeper…just say it."
"…o-okay."
Snart pulled his hand away and stilled Barry's hand on him. Their breaths came harsh, both wet and riled up and shaky with heightened sensation. Snart reached back to the nightstand and plucked up the lube and condom. "Now for the hard question. Who wears this?"
"What?" Barry's eyes shot wide. "I can…choose?"
"Preferably," Snart scowled, "you get a say in every part of this, no matter who you're with. But especially that. Tell me…" he pulled Barry closer again, "what do you want?"
Every synapse still capable of firing went off at once, destroying any sense of coherence Barry had left. "I, uhhh…I don't know. I always thought I'd want to be the one to…b-but with you I…I kinda want to try it the other way around?" Barry blushed at the stunned look that crossed Snart's face. "Is that okay?"
"Because it's me?" Snart said, his amazement turning to amusement quickly. Barry didn't think Snart's pleased surprise had anything to do with positioning though, just that Barry trusted him this much, which maybe he shouldn't, not with everything, but he did. He really did. "You have some ideas in mind? How you want this to go?"
Barry had thought about that a lot when he was envisioning some stranger, figured then that no matter how things played out, he wouldn't be able to look the other person in the eyes. But with Snart…
"On my back so I can see you," he said, and laughed nervously when Snart immediately rolled them so Barry was sprawled out. "I-I don't…really know…I mean I know, obviously, but…"
"Relax, Scarlet. I got you," Snart said, crawling his way between Barry legs to—oh. Right. "You tell me what you like…what you don't…what you want…" he spread Barry's legs apart and kissed the inside of his thighs, "and I'll oblige every whim, every wish you ask of me."
It wasn't wholly selfless, Snart got something out of this too, but it still moved Barry how patient the thief was being, how eager he was to make this good for Barry.
Barry reached down to grip Snart's shoulders. "Kiss me."
Snart surged up impressively fast, sealing Barry's mouth with his lips and twirling his tongue in deep. Finally, Barry thought, as their bodies writhed against each other, finally this was happening. Barry didn't feel like anything was going to spiral out of control. He didn't have to worry about his powers. He didn't fear rejection. He didn't even spare a thought for the witch; his mind was all on Snart, here, between his legs and in his arms.
Snart's fingertips trailed down Barry's body when he slid his way back down between Barry's knees. He paused to coat his fingers with the lube. "Tell me how you've done it before."
"Uhh…usually just a…tease along the skin first." Barry opened his legs to accommodate Snart, and felt the smooth, slick slide of the pads of his fingers brush down beneath his cock and lower to the puckered, waiting skin. Snart rubbed in gentle circles. "Yeah…yeah, that's good. A-And then…I-I'd…" His breath caught when Snart read his thoughts and breached the entrance with the tip of a finger, curling and pressing… "Wait."
Snart pulled out, eyes serious and vigilant.
Barry bit his lip, chest heaving as he said, "Slower."
Snart grinned. This time when he pressed inside, it was at an agonizing pace that made Barry moan haggardly, and then swell louder with every fraction of an inch Snart's finger sunk inside.
"Yes…" Barry rocked his hips to pull Snart in deeper. "Like that, please…"
"Fuck, kid…you got any idea what you look like? What you sound like…?" Snart's face was flush, breaths coming out short. He pulled out slowly, and in again, and again, and soon, just as teasingly, added a second finger.
This was how Barry teased himself, always trying to make it last longer, make himself quiver before he came. But with Snart's hands, it was so much more than anything he'd experienced alone.
"Just a bit…left…?"
Snart followed Barry's every direction.
"A-And… a little…deeper…"
And melted every time his commands were heard. It made him feel so…powerful. So at ease. So in control. He'd never felt that with anyone else. Maybe that was why he'd never made it this far before.
By the time Snart's two long fingers were scissoring as deep inside of Barry as he'd ever touched himself, Barry was a mess of nods and panting breaths. "Please…please…" he whined when it became too much and he just wanted to feel Snart. He could barely raise his hands to reach for him, he was so on edge and wound up like a livewire.
Snart kissed Barry's thighs again, and reached for the condom. Barry trembled and shook, but not because he was afraid.
"Whatever you want…at any moment…just say it," Snart said, and Barry nodded, rocking back to grip beneath his knees. He didn't think anyone had ever looked at him with as much want as Snart was now.
The first press inside was worlds different from any finger. It felt impossible for a moment, but Barry was stretched enough, wet enough, that soon the lip of Snart's head breached the first inch and, "Shit."
"…okay?"
"Mmhm," Barry nodded, eyes clenched tight. "Don't stop." He forced his eyes to open and looked up, really looked at Snart as the thief pressed in deeper, flushed and panting, yet somehow so controlled even while he looked like he wanted to lose himself in how good Barry felt beneath him.
There was no slyness on his face as he stared with hooded eyes back at Barry, only raw emotion that so far in their twisted relationship Barry had only ever seen when Snart was distraught or broken. Seeing it now because he was simply…happy…made him look so unburdened.
The last inch caught Barry by surprise with how much Snart dragged along his prostate and filled in all of his edges. Barry bucked up against him to feel how deep he was. When Snart began to move, Barry arched his neck back and pressed into the pillow.
"You like that, Barry…?"
"Yessss," Barry keened; the combination of Snart's voice and hands and cock made his head spin. "Faster."
Snart didn't hesitate to comply, and Barry's eyes fluttered closed at the tingling of nerves as he was filled.
"Barry…" Snart's voice held a hint of trepidation suddenly, forcing Barry's eyes to open. He stared at Barry in awe. "You're sparking."
"Huh?" Barry's head snapped up to look at himself and…he was. Jolts of electricity were jumping around his body. "It's working," he laughed, and then caught Snart's wide gaze. "I should probably tell you."
Snart raised an eyebrow as if to say, now you have something to tell me?
"It's nothing bad! Just…sometimes I—ah!" a ripple of vibrations tore through Barry, and both of them moaned. "Sometimes…I vibrate."
The way Snart looked at Barry after that was as if he wanted to devour him whole.
Snart picked up the pace, so easy now, the deep slide within Barry, the symbiotic rhythm. Barry worried that the sparks, the buzzing of his body might be too much for Snart, but the thief's speed merely quickened with each passing moment as their crescendo built…and built…and Barry hooked his ankles behind Snart's back so he could buck up against him harder.
"More…" Barry pleaded.
Snart never let him down, met him beat for beat, and when he finally paused, when he stopped and tensed and clenched his eyes closed as his mouth dropped open and his body quaked, Barry felt so good having brought Snart to that moment that he felt an answer build in him too.
As Snart rode out his aftershocks, Barry tightened around him and flailed to find Snart's hand amidst the jumping sparks of electricity, moving it insistently to stroke him just once…twice…
The room erupted in a shock of blinding yellow light when Barry came, filling the space with his lightning, and then fizzling out with the smell of ozone left behind. Barry's heart fluttered like a humming bird—he was back, he was The Flash again, he could feel it, and it was almost as amazing as what Snart had just shared with him.
Snart collapsed against Barry once the room dimmed, and they sagged boneless where they lay atop the mattress.
"Impressive…light show," Snart said.
Barry giggled, maybe a little delirious, but oh, that had been worth it, and would have been even if he hadn't gotten his powers back. "You okay?" he asked, still a little worried that the sparks and vibrations might have been too much.
Snart lifted his head to stare at Barry incredulously. "Are you?"
"I…am fucking amazing," Barry smiled, and Snart huffed warm breath against his chest.
It seemed too great a feat to move at first, but Snart soon rolled away, snatched up his or maybe Barry's shirt—it didn't matter—and wiped them clean before tossing the article back to the floor. He lay back down beside Barry, and Barry reflexively wrapped his arms around Snart to hold him close. Snart tensed initially, like he wasn't used to snuggling with anyone in the afterglow, but when Barry continued to hang on undeterred, Snart relaxed and let him hold him.
Coming down from that high was so different from attending to himself solo. Barry knew it wasn't always this intense, but as far as first times went, they must have broken some sort of record. The high did have to come down eventually, leaving only their breathing, and the quiet, and Barry's bustling thoughts.
"How come you never asked me…why?"
"Hm? Figured it was a delicate subject."
"It wasn't because I was some hopeless nerd or anything," Barry said. "I mean, I was. But mostly a…loner, I guess? But there were girls. A couple guys. And then really bad luck. Like, one time, it was happening, like happening, clothes off, seconds from my first blow job, and someone actually set the dorm on fire."
Snart lifted his head to gawk at Barry.
"Other interruptions were less extreme."
Snart laughed, and Barry laughed with him, because it really was absurd. All of this was.
"Mostly though…there wasn't time. There was my dad to worry about. I had to get on the police force. Plus, before that, in high school, bullies kind of...made me keep my head down, so half the time I didn't even notice when girls were into me. Iris would tell me later and I wouldn't get why anyone could ever…" Barry trailed before he could say anything too self-effacing. "Anyway…there were options, things just kept happening. Years passed, and it got ridiculous after a while, so I stopped trying. Then I got my powers and now…it's like I'm horny all the time."
Snart snorted.
"Shut up. That hard-on last night was humiliating enough."
"Not laughing," Snart said, even though that snort had sure sounded like a laugh. He did that little eye-flick down Barry's body. "Not complaining."
Barry snickered, because yeah, sex accomplished, virginity and witch thoroughly thwarted, and yet somehow he was hard again. Or maybe he'd never fully dwindled.
But the point was…he was hard. And surging with power. And not really out of breath anymore. Plus, it wasn't that late yet, or as if he had any lines on finding the witch.
He shifted so he was propped up on his side to better face Snart. Glancing down the whole gorgeous form of the man lying beside him, he appreciated every last imperfection and chiseled feature.
"Can I, umm…" Barry licked his lips, gathering his nerves to say this before he looked Snart in the eyes again. "Can I fuck you back?"
Snart smirked at the timid request then blinked at Barry like he must be insane. "Now?"
Barry nodded sheepishly. He couldn't help that his sex drive was impossible.
Eventually, with a calculating tilt of his head, Snart said, "I think we can arrange something."
"And, umm…"
"Yes?"
"Do you have that kilt?"
The next morning, Barry flashed home and snuck into his room without Joe seeing him. He needed to change his clothes, maybe see if he could figure out what the witch had been up to the other night, in case he ended up running across her again, though he doubted that would happen. Not after the note they'd found stuck to Snart's fridge.
Snart had not been pleased, and Barry had apologized profusely for the witch being able to track him, but at least the note hadn't seemed menacing.
Like I said, I have the Sight—I see what you think you need to hide. Next time, don't be so embarrassed to ask for what you want. You're welcome.
"I can still ice her if we ever see her again," Snart said.
"Much as I appreciate that, I think she knew what she was doing." She'd seen far more than Barry had realized. He set the note aside and wrapped his arms around Snart's neck, who smiled despite himself and didn't pull away. "We need to make a new deal, Cold."
"Oh? Talk terms then. What do you want?"
"Whenever you're home bored and not on some mission with the Legends…help me protect the city instead of raiding it."
"Mmm…tall order. As I said, I like what I do, and I am very good at it."
"You're good at a lot of things," Barry grinned. "You got a thrill traveling through time, didn't you? Saving the world?"
"Can't say I didn't. Better make playing nice worth my while though."
"Or what?"
"Or we might need another date night playing footsie from the bank. Maybe the museum next time. Or—"
"Okay," Barry laughed. "Okay. Guess I'll have to keep you occupied."
Now, up in his room, biding his time before facing anyone, Barry found a news story about the robbery near the park. It seemed that the occult book store in question had a number of their own merchandise that was stolen property, which might not have come to light without the theft. The witch hadn't been lying—they had stolen from her first.
Barry pulled out his cell phone to message Snart—in his contacts now as simply 'Len'—when he remembered the slew of text messages from his friends and family that he hadn't bothered to look at yet, ranging from:
Joe: Be careful, kiddo.
Cisco: Dude, not funny. What is going on?!
Caitlin: Barry, you're not alone, please include us if something's wrong.
And finally…
Iris: Bartholomew Henry Allen, if you do something stupid without telling me, I swear to god…
Crap. Well, he couldn't avoid coming clean forever. He called Iris. "What if it was a good kind of stupid?"
THE END