A/N: After the super fluffy ending we got from tonight's ep, I highly doubt anyone will want to be reading this angst, but it's here for you if you want it! I'd appreciate reviews if you do. This takes place after Barry has left the apartment and gone to Cisco's, but that same night.
WARNING: Explicit smut contained in the latter half of this fic.
*Endless thanks to my beta, sendtherain, who is flawless, as always.
*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
...
Cisco had really, truly been hoping that Barry wouldn't show up at his door that night. Some part of him had known it would happen. He didn't even know all the steps that had led Barry to make his decision, but the way he'd spoken earlier held such conviction. The fact that even Iris hadn't been able to dissuade him spoke volumes. And he knew she hadn't been for the idea the minute Barry met his eyes. He saw the hurt that lay beneath that wall of resignation. That wasn't hurt from heartbreak that had been done to him. That was hurt from heartbreak he'd inflicted on someone else and wished he hadn't.
That someone was Iris.
But he didn't push. He didn't ask questions. He simply gestured to the couch, the pillows and blankets he'd set out just in case. Barry nodded and muttered his thanks. Because it was late and he looked like he wanted to be left alone, Cisco let him be.
"If you need anything…" he gestured absently to the kitchen – food – and to the living room – activities – and down the hall – his room, a place for conversation if he needed to talk.
Barry nodded and lay down on the couch, exhausted.
"Thanks, Cisco. I appreciate it."
Cisco hesitated a moment and then retreated to his room. Once in bed he listened for sounds, but he heard nothing except Barry moving around a few times, trying to find a comfortable spot. Cisco knew it wouldn't be easy. He was too long for that couch. It was beyond him how he'd been able to sleep on it for the months before he'd bought the place for him and Iris.
But the creaking of the sofa eventually stopped, and Cisco, despite the thoughts racing through his mind, was able to fall into a dreamless sleep.
For all of three hours.
There was a sharp rap on the door. Barry must not have heard it because the noise didn't stop. After three knocks, Cisco grabbed his phone to look at the time. 1 a.m. He blinked to see if it was the right time, and it was.
The knock was louder now, and it came in sets of three. He didn't know who the hell it could be, but he knew if it was someone dangerous, obviously Barry would be up in a hurry. He was a pretty heavy sleeper, but he was also simultaneously easy to wake up if shook. Cisco took courage in that fact and went down the hall to see who was at the door.
"Iris?" he whispered, having looked over his shoulder and seen Barry still asleep he before got to the door.
Iris was clearly trying to put on a brave face, but she couldn't quite meet his eyes. Her own were red and her face was still stained with tears. She looked exhausted, but he wondered if it would tear down the strength she was so desperately clinging to if he offered to hug her. Something told him she wasn't here to see him.
"Is…Is Barry here?"
Cisco nodded. "Yeah."
"Is he sleeping?"
He wanted to say no. He really, really wanted to. Because he couldn't, he nodded instead.
"So he had no problem just…falling asleep."
There was bitterness in her voice, and with good reason. He tried his best to quell it.
"I was in the other room," he offered. "So, I don't know exactly when he fell asleep. He didn't get here till 10 o'clock."
Iris blinked, her brows furrowing.
"10 o'clock?"
Cisco nodded.
"Are you sure?"
Now his brows furrowed.
"Yeah. Why? When did he leave…" he stopped and looked away. "I mean…"
"He didn't come home till after six, and he left less than half an hour later." She folded her arms. "It was like he couldn't wait to get out of there." She swallowed hard and a tear fell down her cheek. "Away from me."
Cisco's heart went out of her. He couldn't bear to see her in pain – even though he wouldn't let himself judge Barry too harshly until he heard the full story, and he'd promised himself he wouldn't push until morning.
That didn't change the fact that there was an angel falling apart in front of him.
"Oh, Iris…" he started to reach for her.
Because she needed a hug from someone. She needed the comfort. He didn't know what the hell Barry had been up to during the nearly four hours he wasn't with either of them, but he obviously had decided to take no interest in reassuring his girlfriend before he moved out of their home indefinitely.
But Barry had other plans. Apparently.
"Iris?"
Cisco's head whipped around, immediately stepping back, his eyes wide and uncertain of what would happen next. He was partially worried one or both of them would be angry at him for his interference or lack thereof.
"Barry," Cisco said, the only thing that came out between shocked lips.
"What are you doing here, Iris?" Barry asked, ignoring his best friend completely and closing the distance between himself and his girl.
Cisco stumbled backwards and very soon became aware that Iris was not going to respond until he left the two of them alone.
"I'll just leave you two…to…" And he went back down the hall to his room and shut the door, wincing when it was more of a slam than a gentle closing.
It obviously didn't bother Barry and Iris in any significant way, because they proceeded to talk. After much deliberation, Cisco decided he wouldn't press his ear against the door and try to eavesdrop.
"I came to see you," Iris said, waiting a couple beats after the surprising sound of a slamming door.
Barry's brows furrowed and he folded his arms across his chest.
"Why?"
Her heart sank. "To bring you home."
Barry's eyes closed in agony and frustration. He tried to keep both at bay. When he felt he had them at a safe distance, he opened his eyes again and focused on her.
"Iris, we talked about this."
"No." And suddenly her eyes were ablaze, startling him. "You talked about this. Then I cried, and you got up and left. You didn't even say goodbye."
He swallowed hard.
"I thought it'd be better that way."
She scoffed. "How?"
He ran a hand through his hair, which he knew that was a bad sign.
"How would it have made things better? You would've asked me to stay."
"Begged and pleaded," she agreed, nodding. "But maybe – just maybe – in response to that you would have reassured me that this won't last forever, that eventually you'll come home to me, that things are going to be okay."
"Things will be okay," he said calmly, but his emotions were brimming at the surface. He was starting to talk the same way he did when she yelled at him about hiding from her that he was the Flash.
"I just need some time, Iris."
"But you don't know how much time," she spat in return.
"How could I possibly know, Iris?" His arm flew about. He no longer tried to analyze the motion. "Nothing I've been trying to do to save you from Savitar is working. The speed force told me I'm going about it all wrong, and that I alone have to save you. I have to start over from the very beginning and come up with a new plan that doesn't involve relying on everyone else. Just me."
She took a slow, deep breath, and counted down a few seconds. Then she crossed the threshold and looked up at him, not daring to touch him, not wanting to push him away further.
"I understand why you think you have to leave, Barry."
Warily, he nodded.
"But Barry Allen, you owe me one more night."
He blinked, confused.
"I almost lost you." Her breath hitched. "I almost lost you, and before that you proposed to me under false pretenses. You made me believe it was for love when it wasn't, and when I gave you the chance to make up for it, you broke up with me instead."
He was there in a heartbeat, holding their hands together.
"It's not supposed to be a break-up, Iris."
"Oh? So we're still together."
The sarcasm laced in her voice made it hard to respond.
"Tell me, boyfriend—"
"Iris."
"When we see each other tomorrow at STAR Labs, are you going to kiss me in greeting?"
He swallowed hard – he hadn't planned to.
"Are you going to bump my shoulder and grin when Cisco makes a dumb joke? Are you going to let me wrap my arms around you when there's a lull in activity and hold my hand until the very last second when I have to leave?"
He sighed.
"Are you going to tell me you love me?" Tears welled up in her eyes. "Or was tonight the last time I'm going to hear it for months?"
He caught her tear on his thumb before it threatened to fall down her face. He shouldn't have left in such a rush. He should've made a smoother exit. He'd spent hours just sitting by the lake contemplating what would happen next. He could've spent that time reassuring her, giving her a proper goodbye, not leaving things so…tragic between them.
But maybe then he wouldn't have left. Because being with her for too long at any given time, just the two of them, was enough to turn his emotions back on. If that happened everything Cisco had said to him earlier would hit him hard. He wouldn't be able to leave her again.
"Iris…"
"One night, Barry. That's all I'm asking. Then you can leave and figure things out and come back to me when you're ready. Just please—"
"Okay." He nodded, clutching her hands tighter but not meeting her eyes.
She did deserve one more night. Hell, they both did.
"Yeah?" she breathed, and the relief alone was enough to make him worry about the fact that he'd caved.
"Yeah. Let me just—"
She shook her head – no.
"You only took a small duffel, Bear." She threaded her fingers through his. "You have more than enough clothes still at home."
Home.
The word alone made him light-headed, reminded him of things he'd staunchly tried to ignore earlier. This was such a bad idea, he told himself over and over. Iris was so happy over this victory. It would only hurt her more when he left in the morning, but for some reason he couldn't remind her of how he'd spent the night after he'd returned from the speed force. She needed tonight, and he was going to give it to her.
"Okay," he said and let her guide him out of the apartment.
…
The loft was quiet again when they entered it, just as it had been the night before. Iris plopping off her shoes and the of setting her keys on the table the only sound once again. But before she put one foot on the stairs, she spun around and found herself pressed up against him, with barely any breathing room between them.
They stood there silently, Barry's hands on her arms to steady her, Iris's attempts to breathe mingling with his own. And then without warning, without a single word to tell him what was coming, Iris arched up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
At first he didn't respond, which worried her, but she refused to back down. She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him down to her level, then kissed him again. His lips moved slightly against hers, but it wasn't enough. She threaded her fingers through his hair and dragged her nails down the back of his neck, sending ripples of shivers over his entire body.
"Iri—"
And she stuck her tongue in his mouth before he could finish releasing her name from his lips.
In that instant he groaned, his hands found her hips and squeezed. She almost cried with relief. He was kissing her on his own now, deepening their kisses, his tongue tangling with hers, giving her chills of her own. Without any urging from her, she felt him reach up to the front of her sweater and pull it down over her shoulders.
"Barry," she whimpered when his lips descended down her neck.
God, she needed this. She needed it so badly it hurt. She needed him to kiss and lick and nip her everywhere. She needed him inside her. She needed him calling her name. She needed him begging for mercy when she took him into her mouth. She needed to feel every inch of his insatiable length thrusting until she couldn't breathe. She needed to sweat, and she needed him to be so slick with it she could barely get a grip on his skin.
"Make love to me, Barry," came out before she could stop it, and he stilled.
She worried she'd lost him, that the night she'd starting to unfold before them had come to an abrupt halt.
But Barry lifted his head, cupped her face in his hands, and pressed his forehead to hers.
"I love you, Iris," he said softly.
"I love you, too," she said quickly, so he wouldn't have time to insert a 'but…'.
He swallowed hard.
"I'm going to leave in the morning."
She nodded. "I know."
"Maybe before you get up."
A tear traveled down her cheek.
"Don't do that," she pleaded. "Don't give me tonight, but not the morning." She opened her eyes and pulled back enough to look into his. "You're the first thing I want to see when I wake up," she whispered, and it absolutely broke him.
Passion ignited as he lunged himself the short distance between them, kissing her relentlessly.
Iris felt his hands at the button of her capris and wanted to scream. She was completely and totally on fire for him and pushed herself even closer, holding onto him with all her might.
"Touch me, Barry," she pleaded, breathing heavily.
He kissed her some more, trying to shove his hand between them, but she was pressed so closely against him that it was proving difficult. It occurred to him belatedly that maybe she was presenting a challenge to him without even realizing it. He abandoned the button and zipper and instead moved to cup her, vibrating his finger against her clit through the fabric of her pants.
"Oh my god, Barry."
She bent back slightly, overwhelmed by the feel of him, and it gave him enough room to reach her button and zipper and open his hand to her panties. And then he was inside. She almost screamed when he vibrated his finger with no barrier and then pumped two fingers down her channel.
Iris clawed at his neck, his back. She forced his jacket off, but couldn't seem to keep her balance enough to yank off his shirt.
"Take me to bed, Barry," he whispered hotly against his skin. "I want all of you touching me, and right now you have the advantage."
She thought she felt him smirk against her but told herself she'd revel in that later, that he wasn't so serious, that he was desperate but also enjoying himself, that he was remembering what it had been like between them before and pretending it was still like that.
In a heartbeat she was upstairs in their bedroom and he was stripping off her clothing with minor assistance.
"Off," she commanded when he was still mostly clothed by the end of it. "I want to see all of you." She ran her fingers down his ripped abs as he started to lift off his shirt. "I want to touch all of you."
The last of his clothes were gone, and he was reaching for a condom when she placed a hand on his chest to stop him.
"Not yet," she whispered, struggling to breathe. "Just touch me."
He drew his hand back and kissed her slow and sensually on her lips, his hands tracing every inch of her skin as he started to move downward and finally found her core with his tongue. She moaned loudly, her stomach rising and falling quickly with her struggle to maintain control. Her fingers clenched his hair, her nails digging into his scalp.
Then, without warning she exploded, wave after wave of pleasure flooding through her. Her limbs were weak, practically limp from the tension leading to the orgasm. But when his lips met hers again, she attacked them just as fiercely as he'd done earlier -as if breathing meant kissing him and she never wanted to stop.
Before long she'd moved him beneath her and was repeating the same downward pattern he'd done with her, kissing every inch of him. Licking, nipping, whispering words of love and desire. Thrilling in her name floating off his tongue, wrenched from his soul, a cry from his heart.
Her mouth wrapped around his length and she bobbed up and down, swirling her tongue around him. Her hair brushed the base of his torso, pushing him to his limit. When he felt her nose touch his skin, he exploded into her mouth and heard her sudden gasp moments later when she released him, the semen dripping from her lips.
His eyes were hazy with exhaustion, but still brimming with desire as hers had been before. She wrapped a hand around his length and started to pump him. With her other hand she massaged his balls and in no time he was fully erect again.
She crawled across his body to retrieve the condom from the drawer and sheathed him in it before he could offer any other suggestion. Then she slowly lowered herself onto him and just as slowly rose up again. The lack of speed nearly drove him mad, but he was riveted by the subtle sway of her breasts and the way her hair drifted across her nipples in some places and stuck to her skin in others. Her parted lips ever circular in form and her closed eyes added to the sight in such a way that it created a need in him to hear her say his name.
"Barry," she moaned when he gripped her hips and forced her to grind against him.
He did it again, even harder, and he moved her faster. And when she leaned forward just enough, her hands propped up on his shoulders, he lifted his legs so his knees were bent and began pounding into her full force.
"Oh my god," she cried out, her face in the crook of his neck, hot tears rolling down her face onto his skin. But not tears of pain, tears of pleasure. Tears that questioned how this could be real.
And just before they climaxed a second time, Barry flipped her onto her back and finished them in slow, sweeping lengths. When their orgasms subsided, he collapsed on top of her, unable to move but breathing heavily. Iris wrapped her arms around him, refusing to let go. Even when he pulled out of her and lay beside her, she still clung to him. She nestled in close because she was already aware that this would be the last time for a while. And not just for sex, but for closeness. The last time she'd feel his breath on her skin; the last time she'd hear his racing heartbeat when she laid her head on his chest; the last time she'd feel his fingers in her hair or tracing the curves of her breasts and back and hips; the last time she'd be able to toss her leg over his to pull him in closer.
The last of everything.
So she did all of that and more. She made sure she was touching all of him, and that he was touching her, and prayed to whatever God was out there that he would be the first thing she saw come morning, else she worry this had all been a wet dream created in the absence of him for the first night in months.
…
When Barry opened his eyes the next morning, Iris was watching him intently. Her face was relaxed, melancholy, relieved. He didn't want to break the spell, but he knew it couldn't last forever.
It had been a few days since they'd had sex. Now he wondered how he would go without it long term. Last night had been incredible, mind-blowing. Their sex was always fantastic, but he couldn't remember if it had ever been that good.
How would he cope in the coming weeks without sensations like those, without feeling her breath on his skin and his name whispered from between her ruby lips. How would he deal with not seeing her the moment he opened his eyes and the moment before they closed for sleep?
He knew this was something that had to be done. He knew he couldn't take it back. It had been his idea, and it was the right one. But it was harder now after this last night together when there was no ignoring what they had together, the intimacy, the closeness. It went beyond pure love and intoxicating sex. It was something ethereal he couldn't put a name to and he almost didn't want to try.
"Morning," he said softly, hoping the word itself wouldn't break the spell.
"Morning," she said in return, then drew herself nearer and brushed her nose against his.
He returned the gesture and smiled – a real smile, not a fake one. He saw her smile, too, and wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted to wish Savitar away and just stay here in her arms with this angel he loved more than life itself.
"I love you so much," he murmured after she'd replaced her gentle nose brushing for a simple, sweet morning kiss.
Iris wrapped her arm around him and tucked herself into his frame.
"I love you more," she said against his skin. "I love you more than anything."
Tears welled in his eyes, so he kept them tightly shut. His hand tangling in her hair, her skin warm and smooth beneath his touch, he wondered why life had to be so hard. Questions like breakfast and showers and dressing were suddenly the hardest in the world. Leaving was the hardest. It wouldn't be easy this time. He couldn't quick pack a bag and dart out of the loft. The morning lay before him inevitable in its design. He would shower with her, dress, make her breakfast, eat with her, and he would say goodbye, a long, lingering, heartfelt goodbye. It would be meaningful and emotional, and when he left work and went to Cisco's instead of home to Iris, his heart would ache for her and it would take time to gain back his big-picture strategy-for-saving-her mentality.
She needed to be saved. He needed to save her. But how long would it be, he wondered, until he needed her to save him.