erm, pardon the possible OOC.
i
The bed creaked when Oliver was unceremoniously pushed back. He stifled a groan as legs straddled him, his hands wandering at the expanse of lean but muscular torso hastily stripped off of shirt. The body on top of him covered his, teeth nipping at the skin near Oliver's pulse. He wasn't able to contain his groan this time, his arms encircling the thin waist and then holding the hips down to ground up against them.
Barry moaned against the skin on the sudden jerk. Oliver used the momentary distraction to flip the position, pinning Barry underneath him and his wrists above his head. The man beneath exposed his neck—a gesture urging for Oliver to continue. The latter complied, sucking a patch of unblemished skin until it bruised. Oliver started a trail from an earlobe down to the shoulder that continued to the pink nubs. He twirled his tongue on the nipple, alternating between suction and nipping it expertly that had Barry a whimpering mess.
Oliver's free hand went occupied with Barry's pants, finger hooking on the waistband and tugging it swiftly off. Oliver went past the boxer briefs, cupping the hard on and palming it in time with his lapping of Barry's navel.
"Oliver, please," Barry managed to say between short pants of breath when Oliver curled his fingers around his cock and squeezed lightly.
The sound of frustration fell on deaf ears. Oliver let go of the wrists for the sake of pulling down Barry's last article of clothing and removing his own shirt. He made sure to never take his eyes away from green ones gazing up at him intently when he began his strokes and progressed to pumping in moderate speed.
"Faster," Barry demanded in a murmur, letting out a low mewl at the flick of Oliver's thumb nail on the slit, snapping up on the hand in reflex. Wordlessly, the pace quickened with long drags from base to the tip. Seeing Barry's reaction, Oliver was thinking of trying something else.
The older man positioned himself lower, and leaned closer to the hot flesh he was holding. With a few experimental licks, his mouth covered the head, dipping his tongue on the slit to taste the precum—just how he remembered Barry doing for him that felt really good.
Long fingers carded on Oliver's short hair as Barry thrust slowly into the wet heat. He hissed at the grazing of teeth on the side. There was warmth pooling in his stomach, and at the rate Oliver was doing wonders with his tongue, he wouldn't last much longer.
His back arched at the particularly long swipe of tongue starting from the scrotum to the head. And with Oliver alternating between pumping him with his calloused hand and bobbing his mouth up and down and sucking him like a treat, Barry came on Oliver's fist.
"Did you just give me a head?" he asked after calming down his breath, slumping on the mattress with an arm over his eyes. Usually, he was the one to give the blowjob, especially when he learned about the vibration thing he could do. Though he wasn't obligated to, he would indulge Oliver sometimes.
"How's that for my first?" Oliver loomed over him, arms planted in the sides of Barry's waist.
"You sure that's your first?" Barry mused that they were answering each other with questions. "It took me earlier than usual."
"I learned from you." Oliver wiped his fingers with tissues from the night stand. He laid himself down beside the other, an elbow propping him up. He frowned when Barry stood up and opened the drawers as if looking for something. "What are you doing?"
Barry looked as if taken aback by the question. He glanced at Oliver's obvious erection bulging through his pants. "Continuing?"
"I'll be fine," he assured him. "Nothing a cold shower can't fix. You go sleep. You've been up around Central almost the whole day. Rest."
Barry shook his head. "But I don't want to," he told him quietly. He inched closer, staring down to Oliver, and then leaning to his ear and whispered, "I want you to fuck me."
Oliver wasn't sure if the redness of Barry's cheeks was because of arousal or due to embarrassment at uttering the demand he never thought he would hear from him of all people. But that was before, a time before they initiated this set up.
Barry was silent as he pulled out a sachet of condom and grabbed the bottle of lube. When Oliver put on an unreadable expression, the younger man smiled at him a little. "Just lie there. I'll take care of this."
Barry quickly worked on Oliver's pants and underwear then tossing them on the floor, thick flesh jutting out of the confines. Oliver's hands clenched uselessly when Barry stroked him to full hardness and gave it a few kitten licks to gather the precum.
Once satisfied at the stiffness, Barry poured the cold lube to his palm and dipped two fingers that vanished behind him, stretching him for the large intrusion. Oliver could only caress his shoulders in encouragement, while busying himself with slicking his cock after wearing the condom on.
Barry writhed on the third finger, and Oliver could see he was hard again. He tugged Barry closer, sitting him on his lap. Once finished, Barry pushed Oliver's shoulder slightly and lifted himself, positioning the cock to his opening and with slow movements, sank down gradually until Oliver was fully sheathed inside.
He let Barry adjust to the girth, biting his lip to stop himself from thrusting. Connecting their sweaty foreheads together, Oliver was aware this was the part where he would normally kiss his lover and whisper words of passion. But this wasn't one of those normal situations, nor was he and Barry lovers.
"What happened?" Oliver knew Barry wasn't usually this forward.
"Nothing," Barry lied. He sighed, shifting on the position a bit. "I'll move now."
He could be stubborn sometimes, as what Oliver experienced. He decided to let the matter slide. For now.
Barry raised his hips, without removing Oliver inside him completely. In one fell swoop, he landed down and buried Oliver deeply. The latter exhaled sharply at the tightness, grasping Barry's thighs and squeezing. Barry repeated his ministrations with agonizing speed, slamming down roughly and then grounding as far as he could go.
Moments later, he set an average pace, clenching his cavern that he could feel the shape of Oliver's shaft as skin slapped against skin. Oliver growled, biting at the juncture of Barry's shoulder and neck. Halfway, he met him every thrust, snapping with more force than necessary upwards and hitting the prostrate in one particular angle. He held him down and nailed that certain spot numerous times that had Barry begging for more, harder, deeper.
Moans and groans and grunts spilled and filled the air, mingling with the smell of sex they could practically taste.
Barry was a boneless wreck, with hands planted on Oliver's chest when he came, untouched. Oliver fucked him through the climax, determined to reach his. His hips stuttered when Barry clamped painfully on his length. A few more punishing thrusts, he spilled inside Barry.
He removed himself from him whom he assisted to lie again on the bed. Oliver thought he was asleep when he disposed of the used condom and cleaned the sticky mess on both their stomachs.
Barry sat up after recovering for a while. Gathering his bearings, he put back on his clothes in a blur that made Oliver's eyes spin in dizziness. He turned to the other man, muttering a curt good night and a thank you before leaving.
He never stayed, as much as Oliver had insisted and said that he was more than welcome to spend the night in the rather large apartment only he and William were living in.
Oliver opened his laptop and searched for that day's online news report, specifically in Central City.
He read about the heist the Flash had interrupted, and a hostage taking in a bank the speedster had successfully foiled. But there was also a fire in a synthetic factory. It was rather large due to the material the factory produced, and had spread faster than the normal fire.
Oliver inhaled, closing his eyes after reading the article. It would explain Barry's earlier behavior, he thought. With a tired sigh, he went under his cold covers and tried to at least get few hours of sleep for another busy day at the city hall.
Fire at plastic factory
—by Jaime Summers
At 8:13 AM of July 26, a fire broke out at CC Synthetic causing an estimated two million dollars' worth of damage. A total of 18 employers are suffering second degree burns and are getting treated at Central Hospital after being saved by The Flash in time. Although, the scarlet speedster came in too late for the other five workers trapped at the warehouse where the fire was reported to have started…
ii
Joe didn't have to look up to know who the shadow looming over him and the tombstone belonged to. "Barry."
"Joe." Barry crouched down to replace the dead flowers in one vase with fresh irises. He noticed the other vase filled with carnations—her favorite.
Several minutes of somberness passed without them exchanging more words. It was the detective who broke the silence, patting away the soil on his legs as he stood up.
"Have you considered moving in again with us?"
"Sorry, Joe. I think I'll have to decline. Besides, you have Wally occupying my old room."
"He won't be in a few weeks," Joe said, shaking his head. "He'll be entering university in Coast City, continue his degree in engineering there. He received his acceptance letter this morning, and it's his decision to board near the place. He'll be telling the team later."
Barry knew what was left unsaid, that Joe would be alone in the house, where most of Iris ghost was; that every night he would be coming home to an empty place with plenty of childhood memories of Barry and Iris.
"I can't," Barry told him weakly, another apology ready to escape past his lips. "I can't go back there."
"When will you? When will you move on, Barry?" His foster father asked in that tone of his bordering reprimanding. "It's been half a year. Do you think that's what she would like for you? Going everyday to that apartment you two shared, torturing yourself?"
"I wouldn't know what she would like because she's not here, okay?" Barry raised his wavering voice. "She's dead. And her death is on me." He turned away sharply.
"And you did everything to prevent that. It's time to let go," Joe said softly, pulling Barry closer to him. "It's difficult. But you have to, gradually."
"But what if I don't want to?" Barry sniffed, resting his head on Joe's shoulder.
"Then do it for me. Because you're my son too, and I don't want to see you punishing yourself."
Barry didn't utter any promises, but tightened his embrace instead.
It was difficult, what Joe was asking him. Though he knew he could always try.
As for when and how, they were the mysteries to solve.
iii
It used to be six—four at Lian Yu and two at his home city.
But six month ago, he had another eleven of them.
Graves.
It never mattered where they were located; they were all pits containing Oliver's family and friends.
Initially, he thought he had buried pieces of him with the first four graves at Lian Yu—the old him. He came back to Star City, became the vigilante, and the empty half of him was filled by what was left of his family, the team turned friends and then family itself.
He got too comfortable to realize that he would lose them too.
The void that used to be only half became whole.
Oliver could accept Lyla's disappointment, Sara not forgiving him, and the anger of all the families left behind by his former team.
But it was William who he believed he hurt the most.
"Who do you think the bad man is?"
"You."
Oliver couldn't even blame the boy when he pointed at him.
It was a mutual belief they both share.
iv
They saw each other again the evening of the next day, minds occupied and detached from their own selves as their bodies joined in a round of dispassionate sex.
Nobody said a thing when they called different names. Specifically, names of two people who were no longer around, rotting underneath the earth.
They ended the night feeling sicker than usual.
v
Barry found himself standing in front of a two-story house for sale after Oliver called him about William slipping from his bodyguard. Years of knowing him, Barry knew he was panicking despite the lack of edge in his voice from the other line.
He offered to check on locations in Central and if deemed unsuccessful, he would help Oliver to look for the kid in Star City. Fortunately, he was correct at first try by going to the old Clayton residence.
Huddled in a corner of the living room was William with his school bag beside him. He didn't notice Barry come in as his head was tucked on folded knees, small body shaking not because of cold, judging from the sniffles and sobs Barry could hear.
"William?" Barry called softly, kneeling beside him.
The boy slowly looked up with red-rimmed, watery eyes and stared at Barry.
"I'm not sure if you know me. But we've met before." He sat beside William, back hitting the wall. It was dusty after months of vacancy but none of them cared. "Your Dad is looking for you."
"You're Oliver's friend," William said, wiping his tears with his sleeve, refusing to meet Barry's eyes. "He's not my dad."
"He is." Barry decided to send Oliver a short text saying he was currently with William to alleviate his worry, though the call could wait. "Did you know that I verified it whether you're his son? He didn't know it before so he asked me to do a DNA test."
He noticed that William was silently listening. "He was happy when he found out, you know? And guilty that he wasn't there on your early years. He wanted to make it right, but he was torn choosing between telling you he's your father and not telling you the truth so he wouldn't involve you in his life being the Green Arrow." Barry's mind rebelliously added that Oliver's choice didn't make much difference in the end. "You should give him a chance to be your dad."
"I just want my mom." Tears spilled again from William's eyes, head falling to Barry's side. "I want to go home."
"But this is no longer home." Barry encircled his arm to the boy. He buried his face on William's tuff of hair, afraid that he would show how hypocritical he sounded.
He missed Joe. He missed him so much that he wanted nothing but to ran back there and never return to that cold apartment he shared with Iris. He was too occupied tormenting himself that he forgot he wasn't the only one who lost her.
When small arms encased him in an embrace, Barry was reminded how unfair he had been to the other two men important to her.
vi
"Thank you," Oliver told him after placing the sleeping kid down on the couch.
Barry's gaze landed on William's figure, recalling how the boy had cried himself to sleep, eyes puffy, and very tired of the long walk he did on the way to the train station prior. He nodded to Oliver. "It's nothing. He's exhausted and already unconscious when I carried him."
"Still, you could have called me."
"It's no trouble at all. Really." Barry didn't proceed inside when Oliver opened the door wider, gesturing for the younger man to enter. "There's somewhere I should be right now. And I hope I'm not late yet." Barry smiled apologetically.
Oliver tried not to let the disappointment show. "Go then. Don't keep them waiting." He closed the door behind him, standing straighter, and calling him out to stay for three minutes tops. "About last time, I'm sorry."
Barry's eyes went to the floor, knowing perfectly well what he was talking about. "I'm sorry too," he said weakly in return. "Though we both understand. It's inevitable, I suppose."
Oliver reached out to Barry's left hand, thumb grazing the skin and turning the palm. You're important to me too, was what he was on the verge of saying but kept his mouth shut even when Barry retracted his hand and bid farewell and a pleasant evening, seemingly dismayed and unsurprised at the same time at Oliver's silence.
"Good night, Barry," He mumbled to the night breeze.
vii
"I'm late, aren't I?"
Seeing Joe's unbelievably glad expression when he saw him standing at the porch after the third knock made Barry's mind diverted from the fact that he left Oliver a while ago with a heavy heart.
His foster father shook his head, smiling when he said, "Just right on time for dinner."
viii
They were on their usual meet up—the one that didn't involve less clothing. It was like a tradition of sorts, getting a cup of coffee during Oliver's afternoon break from the city hall and Barry's from the CCPD. The latter thought his speed was quite handy on this kind of situation.
"How are you?" Oliver asked first once they got their orders, taking a sip. The coffees were as good as they have at Jitters.
"Fine. I'm over Joe's every dinner." Barry counted it as a progress. Though Oliver could see he was still struggling, but it was better than before. "I'm not moving back there yet, if that's what you'll ask next."
Baby steps. At least Barry was willing to take them, compared to him. "That's good."
"You? How are… things?" Oliver understood the underlying question of his and William's relationship.
"I want to say 'fine' but then I'd be lying to you." Something they both avoid despite the nature of their friendship that was mostly physical these days, crumbling the part where they were only two vigilantes of their respective cities having friendly competitions in terms of their abilities, counting who had the most wins between them but always ending up deciding it was a draw.
Somehow, this—meeting in a coffee shop when the Flash wasn't busy stopping crimes at his free time and Oliver wasn't caught up with some conference in the afternoon—was a poor attempt of normalcy; a ridiculous semblance of how they were used to be.
They didn't have to verbally put it that they were both aware.
"William." It wasn't a question. "Is he still giving you the cold shoulder?"
Oliver smiled wryly that Barry could only return it sympathetically.
He vaguely remembered giving the same treatment to Joe back then after the death of his mother and incarceration of his father. It took him a while, but he managed to get himself out of the bedroom. "Time. It's what he needs."
Which he could barely give to his own son, being the mayor of Star City. But in a way it was also him giving space to William and let the boy adjust to his new life with his father.
"I can't even come with him on his upcoming field trip," Oliver admitted. There was so much on the city to do, his responsibilities as the mayor doubled due to his refusal to wear the hood again. Paperwork and word of the law were his tools now. He was always torn between choosing Star City and William when he shouldn't be.
"When?"
"Next Friday."
Barry looked thoughtful for a moment. "I can ask for a day off. I'm way ahead of the reports due for another week." Perks of fast writing and reading.
"No, I'd rather not trouble you." Oliver was grateful for the offer though. "I can ask his bodyguard."
"That's kind of uncomfortable for William, don't you think?" Barry pointed out. He shrugged. "It's alright. I can use a change of scenery too."
As much as he appreciated it, Oliver was thinking of other reasons to decline. He had plenty of unpaid favors to Barry already. And the younger man was barely keeping it together himself. Oliver wouldn't dare put his complicated relationship with William that he could hardly fix on Barry's lap.
"Oliver," Barry called his name, shaking him out of his reverie as if he knew what Oliver was thinking. "I'm still your friend."
Of course. "I know," Oliver said, expression softening.
"Then we're settled."
Briefly, Oliver caught glimpse of Barry's grin, the trademark Barry Allen grin whenever he thought he has the advantage over Oliver at sparring and the so called training by the Green Arrow but was unofficially named making me an arrow cushion by the Flash.
When his expression morphed back to the usual, like light that had dimmed with loss, Oliver couldn't help but think that he was partly the cause, together with the toxic friendship (if it could even be called that) they couldn't discard.
Oliver felt like the poison that corrupted this pure light.
ix
Against his plans, Oliver once again donned the hood. With the familiar texture of his mechanical bow, he went on a patrol around the Glades where night activities reportedly went back to being rampant since the disappearance of the Green Arrow. SCPD got an anonymous tip of drug dealing about to happen at midnight.
Oliver suspected it was the same dealer trying to fill in the shoes of Count Vertigo. Although the drug wasn't quite the same and less potent, it was as lethal in large doses. Police had caught some pushers and users but they got away with bail and probation. It had Oliver frustrated and was reminded that this was one of the reasons why he posed as the vigilante.
He was situated on top of an abandoned establishment in front of the said location half an hour before the schedule of the dealing. Oliver could spot three people for the exchange and four more hired guards.
He might have not done this for some time, but it was easy to follow his instincts and tactical awareness that haven't left him yet in spite of the inactivity. It went without saying that he brought them down and securing them for the SCPD to find later.
His patrol should have ended there and then. But with adrenaline rushing in his veins and the effect of accomplishment to do more, the Green Arrow continued his rounds in Glades and other outside perimeters within Star City, stopping any criminal activities he could find that his body complained from exhaustion, accuracy lessening, and a bullet or two grazing him on occasion.
Oliver got back to his apartment with a large slash wound on his arm from his last altercation. It wasn't deep enough to be serious. And as much as he would like to sanitize it and the other scratches for infection, his muscles protested when he dared to lift himself from the couch. He was tired and possibly burned out as well that he passed out, sitting and not stripping his suit.
Oliver was shaken to consciousness by the sound of something like a package being ripped open and the heavy smell of antiseptic. He was lying on his back, and there were careful fingers cleaning and dressing his wounds. As he adjusted his vision, he saw Barry, concentrated at patching him that he barely noticed Oliver shifting his position.
"Hey," he called with voice raspy with sleep. "What are you doing here?" Oliver hoped it didn't come out as rude. He was simply curious.
"He called me, saying the Green Arrow is unconscious and bleeding on the couch."
"William?" He frowned; mentally cursing himself for letting his son saw him at this state. The kid had seen enough of blood and violence for his age. Though he seemed to be in the right mind to ask for help on his own and probably found Barry's name at speed dial.
He just hoped William wouldn't be troubled by nightmares.
"Don't worry, I tucked him back," the other said as of reading Oliver's mind. Barry paused his movements to look fully at him. "You didn't tell me you'll… return."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Why did you?"
Oliver's answer was caught on his throat. He could tell about the drug dealing, but that was only a small portion of why. "Spur of the moment."
"No wonder you became reckless."
"Or maybe Chase is right. I love killing and I missed it."
Green eyes met blue and held each other's stare for a long beat of silence that seemed to have lasted for hours. Barry's lips curved into a tight smile, almost whispering, "Even you don't believe that so I why should I?"
Oliver felt a hand grasping his and squeezing it lightly. Barry leaned closer that the older man thought they would touch lips.
"Sleep," Barry said.
And Oliver did.
x
He was feeling sore the next morning with multiple missed calls on his phone by his secretary. Barry was no longer around but there was a text saying he had to go to work and that he left some food.
William was watching him across the living room, school bag on his back and waiting for the knock of the driver at the door. Oliver's gaze fell down, unable to meet the kid's eyes.
"It won't happen—"
"Are you okay?" William asked suddenly with his small voice. "Barry said so but I don't know. You're not awake. I thought you were dead."
There was a pang in Oliver's chest at the words he was unable to respond to.
The boy walked to him, sitting beside his place. William hugged him tentatively, mindful of the arm. "Please don't leave me too."
"I won't." Oliver pressed a kiss on William's forehead as his left arm gathered the latter's small back. He buried himself on soft strands of hair, inhaling. "Promise."
He was pretty confident he could keep this one.
xi
Joe was leaning at the doorframe of the laboratory-slash-office when he knocked, earning Barry's attention from the petri dish.
"Lunch time," the detective announced.
Glancing at the clock, Barry realized he already missed ten minutes of break, hunger catching up on him. He gratefully took from Joe the boxes of Thai and Chinese and pizzas and burgers and fries and—"These are a lot."
"Your visitors brought them, if they could join you for lunch, they said."
"My visitors?" He tilted his head, not remembering anyone saying they would come over.
"They'll be back in a few minutes after getting donuts. I've already eaten. Eat well." With that, Joe left him to his own devices after helping him set down the take out foods.
He cleared out his desk of folders and files scattered, and then keeping away the equipment and test tubes on their rack. After doing some cleaning and his desk had enough space, there was a knock on the open door.
There was Oliver in his casual garb of leather jacket and fitted shirt underneath partnered with black pants, and with him was William in a simple shirt and shorts, wearing a huge beam on his face that surprised Barry at first, but looking back at Oliver sporting a fond smile, he was happy for the development of the two.
"Come in, guys. It's messy though," Barry said, gesturing at the piles. He sent a greeting of hello, William at the kid and then tousling his hair mildly.
"Apologies for dropping by unannounced." Oliver seated himself on the empty desk while William was at the rotating chair, both used to belong to Julian that was never removed from the laboratory.
"You're both welcome anytime. But shouldn't you be at the city hall?"
Oliver shrugged, getting a box of Chinese. "I asked for three days leave, covering the weekends." He watched as William munched a cheeseburger. "Like you said, change of scenery."
Barry hummed, nodding. "That's nice. William probably misses Central too, don't you?"
"Yeah. Well, some of my friends." He turned to his father. "Can I go to David's house later or tomorrow, Dad?"
Dad. The adults didn't miss it judging by the look they shared before Oliver gave his son permission.
They chatted away what remained of Barry's lunch break, attentively listening to William's talk about school after the mayor of Star City deemed the issues of the city were not exactly something they could enjoy over lunch. Observing Oliver, Barry guessed the boy was never this talkative since the incident.
William stared at Barry in awe at seeing the number of boxes of food finished by the CSI alone. "Dad is not kidding when he said you eat a lot."
Barry scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "It's tiring being the Flash. So I have to consume lots of energy."
It took William a full minute to comprehend the statement.
Barry heard him gasped and found the kid staring wide eyed. "You're the Flash?!"
"Wait. You didn't know?" He turned to Oliver. "I thought you told him."
"It's not my secret to tell," the older man pointed out nonchalantly.
He couldn't argue with that.
"He did say before he's the friend of the Flash," the youngest murmured, taking in the information.
"Now that you know, let's keep it to ourselves, shall we? We don't like the bad man to go after you," Barry warned him in a friendly tone.
As for William, he nodded, looking determined to keep the identities of both the Green Arrow and the Flash—his two favorite heroes. And one was his dad and the other was his sort of somewhat uncle, as Barry was a close friend of his father.
He realized he was currently eating and talking with two vigilantes that he thought this should be a big moment or something.
"Cool," he couldn't help but mutter breathlessly as he nibbled on a French fry.
xii
"Where will you be staying?"
"A motel. If you can direct me to somewhere near."
They dropped William at the house of this David kid, a friend from his previous school, and the kid's family was more than glad to accept him to their home after recognizing the mayor of Star City at their doorsteps. William was invited for dinner and sleepover. Oliver had qualms at leaving his son at first, but after the puppy eyes and excitement that he didn't have the heart to quell, he relented. Besides, he couldn't afford to deny William bits of the boy's old life in Central.
"Or you can crash at my place?"
"I don't like to impose."
Barry snorted at that. "You won't be imposing on anybody."
"Are you sure?" There was an underlying inquiry about something else there, and it seemed to Oliver that Barry knew what he really meant.
"I'm sure," Barry assured him. If Oliver was to strain his ears more, he would catch the defeated tone there.
"We should get dinner first."
They never figured out who started it.
It began innocently enough—watching whatever was on the TV after the news. Surreptitiously, Oliver's eyes wandered on the hanged pictures that were filled with family and friends. There were some old photos of Barry's parents and a younger version of him; there was another family picture of him with young Iris, and Joe that seemed to have directly come from the precinct that time. Mostly, the images were new, with Barry and Iris with silly faces or on places that probably took only a minute or two to reach by the speedster and his fiancé in tow. The pictures captured Barry who appeared as if he was on top of the world, quite literally and figuratively.
And then he heard the clank of the mug atop the glass coffee table and the TV being turned off. Barry was glancing at him occasionally in the middle of the quietness of the living room, as if wanting to ask something. There was an unsaid understanding when they managed to lock on each other's gaze at the same moment.
Oliver got a lapful of Barry then; rough hands brushed on the immaculate skin, a total opposite of his. His mouth instantly connected to the shoulder and neck, drinking the scent of ozone and Barry's cologne. He always bit the same spot, and yet there was never a mark that indicated he had numerous times. It was fascinating and a little annoying if Oliver was to be honest.
He spread his legs wider, enclosing between his thighs the younger man who was busy peppering his throat and chest with small hickeys wherever he could reach. He learned from experience Barry like to nip on earlobes and twirling his hot tongue on ears, and more so when he learned of Oliver's sensitivity on that particular area.
Hard flesh was pushing against his forming erection and the friction of the sweatpants and jeans separating them weren't helping at all. He slipped passed the waistband, kneading the muscle of Barry's backside and giving it light smacks that would surely redden the flawless skin. Barry hissed at the mild sting, biting at Oliver's bearded jaw in the process.
Oliver pushed him lower to rub their groins together heatedly. At the slow push of their hips, his eyes wandered back to those hanging photos and to the lone picture frame by the lamp shade. It was Iris's portrait with sunflower field on her back. The image preserved her radiance and the loveliness associated with this brave and passionate woman.
Shame stabbed his gut when he was overcame with an onslaught of feeling that he was desecrating this apartment—Barry and Iris'—that should be filled with the couples laughter and promises, not with Oliver's carnal groans and Barry's loud keening when a finger ghosted over his hole, the pad teasing the puckered entrance.
His head was turned wordlessly, chin grasped with gentlest of touch. "Hey," Barry said, concern dancing behind his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I am." Oliver swallowed any more of his words. It was a half-assed attempt at lie, but Barry was already a genius to guess that. The younger man took the answer anyway, though only for the sake of avoiding unnecessary thoughts.
Barry lied down on his back, pulling Oliver on top of him. Glancing down, Barry had his long legs apart, a wet patch on his crotch. Oliver distracted himself at tossing Barry's sweatpants and unzipping his own fly to free his throbbing manhood.
He gathered both their cocks in one fist. He angled his thrusts to make the thick head bump on the other's already dripping with stickiness. He thumbed their slits, slathering precum on the lengths to serve as lube. Oliver pushed faster along with Barry, members squishing at his broad hand.
Barry gripped the upholstery, hips snapping upwards to match Oliver's pace, causing his shirt to ride up, exposing perky red nipples ready to be at the mercy of Oliver's teeth and tongue.
"Oliver!" Barry let out a strangled yell at the contact of Oliver's mouth on the sensitive nubs, sloppily lapping his chest as he loomed over him. At the overflowing feeling of pleasure below and up, the speedster began vibrating that had Oliver choking back a moan.
"Fuck, Barry," the older man cursed at the vibration against his cock. He was a few seconds behind Barry when they achieved their climax, his hand warm and sticky at their combined fluids. As Barry's excitement calmed down, Oliver wiped his hand clean, though he didn't remove from position, watching Barry's heavily flushed face and heaving chest.
The speedster looked up when Oliver reached for the box of tissues again, methodically cleaning Barry on his own. "You okay?" he asked when he caught him staring.
"Yeah. Just…" Barry trailed off, causing Oliver to tilt his head. "You don't have to do that."
He brought down the tissue against the abdomen as if laying gentle caresses. "But I want to."
There was something akin to tenderness painted on the former's face as he took in the sight. Meekly, he added, "I mean what I ask earlier. If you're okay."
"And I still am."
"It's alright not to be fine, you know?"
Oliver gave a single nod, exhaling. "I'm aware."
He was aware of it without Barry vaguely pointing it out. He was aware of his coping mechanism—how the death of those important to him in that island had appeared to any outsider as if he was indifferent to the losses; the only sign of his grief was not going back to wearing the hood again and devote most of his time being the mayor, and focusing on those who mattered who were left.
Personally, it was a healthy way, forgoing the facts that his frequent nightmares now featured new characters and provided fresh sceneries of Lian Yu where the whole island was flaming red. On a different perspective, him not shedding even a single tear wasn't normal.
Whoever said he was though?
"The guest room is regularly aired out so you can take it," Barry told him. He stood up, face falling without the other man noticing.
"Sure. Thank you."
Perhaps he already bottled too much inside that being reminded of his loved ones once again made the dam break underneath the safety of the covers.
xiii
The morning after, Oliver found Barry in the kitchen, preparing some breakfast for them before Oliver could fetch William.
Barry nodded his way, bidding him a good morning. Quietly, Oliver approached him. And when the younger man was safely away from the stove, he pulled him in a tight embrace.
It took minutes for Barry to comprehend the sudden move before relaxing and hugging him back.
"You're right. I'm not fine. But I will be. Someday."
"Yeah." Barry smiled privately. "You'll be."
We will be.
xiv
As they were both caught up with work duties, the next time they saw each other was the Friday of William's field trip. Oliver was close to asking for another leave, but his son understood enough, and, well, he wouldn't pass up the chance to have the Flash for himself.
"Mayor Queen, William and Mr. Allen are here to see you," his secretary said after entering his office.
Oliver frowned, checking his watch. It was only twenty minutes before the bus left William's school. "Send them in."
He had no idea they would even drop by before leaving.
The two entered, with Barry bringing a tall cup of coffee and packed lunch which he both settled on Oliver's desk, away from the papers.
"You two don't have to bother. But I am starving so these are greatly appreciated." Oliver paused. "Don't you have a trip to go to?"
"Mayor Queen will forget his lunch if we don't drop by," Barry said. "William helped me in making them." He shared a high-five with the kid.
"Enjoy, buddy," Oliver said to the boy, patting his head. "Tell me about it tonight, okay?"
"Okay!" William grinned widely. Turning to Barry, he urged him to go now, terribly excited to see marine animals that he went out of the door first without waiting for his companion.
"I feel bad that he doesn't know field trips are usually boring."
The two adults shared an amused look.
"Take care, you two," Oliver told the other.
"Leave William to me. I'll look after him. Like a bodyguard."
"I want you to look after yourself too," he clarified. "I owe you one. Again. I hope you're keeping tally."
"Too bad, I don't. Therefore, there are no favors owed to me."
The mayor shook his head, lips pursing. "I'll make a list from now on." He gestured outside. "Better not keep him waiting. And you have five minutes left to get to the bus."
"Good thing William has the Flash with him." Barry made a mock salute as he left.
Outside the building, there was a flash of red and yellow that zipped through the streets of that busy afternoon.
Oliver wouldn't be surprised if William would find the fast ride unpleasant.
xv
It was easier after that.
It was a long process that Oliver was willing to undergo if it meant patching his friendship with Barry—one of the few important things he held dearly nowadays.
They continued their meet ups for coffees that it was finally dubbed as 'Barry going to Central during break time'. On occasion, the speedster would bring the lunch to him whenever the latter thought Oliver was burying himself under loads of paperwork. His secretary was grateful the mayor has Barry as his close friend. He became a familiar face around the city hall, known as the mayor's unofficial nanny. It was thoughtful and instead of feeling bad for not being able to run the same speed from one city to another and return the favor, he would usually invite Barry for dinners where Oliver knew he could cook the meal.
And while Barry was frequently over their place, they never progressed into anything more. And for once, they could actually spend wholesome time, together with William, usually over board games and Jenga and cards. Sometimes the three of them would show up at cinemas and watch animated films that Barry and William both wanted to see. Oliver would think then that he had two kids with him sharing popcorn and random commentary on colorful birds or zodiac animals doing Kung Fu.
It was nice.
Gradually, they retracted their relationship from the precipice it was on the risk of falling to. It was like picking up where they left off, and albeit the other nature of their friendship could never be forgotten, they firmly believed they weren't past the saving point yet.
Though there were other unexplained things that also showed up.
Like Oliver seemed to have been paying attention to Barry more than how he was before that he could notice the subtle glances thrown his way when Barry thought he wasn't looking. He didn't get the notion that the younger man wanted to ask him a question; it was more like Barry observing him.
The same way Oliver was doing if he would analyze his actions carefully.
Whenever he caught one of Barry's stolen looks though, he would shyly turn away, pink at the tip of his ears and seemed as if mentally berating himself for being caught staring.
Not that Oliver minded. If anything, he liked the attention he was given.
But it wasn't long for the media to get wind of the Star City Mayor's friend. Fortunately, there was no name drop yet at the tabloids, though there was a picture of the three of them—Oliver, Barry, and William—with Barry's face purposely blurred to gain curiosity. Oliver recognized where the photo was taken; at the park where they all went once for a picnic William requested.
The article mentioned Barry often dropping by the city hall and personally making sure the mayor never forgot to eat. There were also some small images taken without permission of Barry and Oliver Queen's formerly secret son at the Oceanarium, proof of their seemingly close relationship. The paparazzi had included even Barry's evening visits to the mayor's apartment that lasted for several hours.
Judging by the way the article was written, it was implying that Oliver Queen was dating a mystery man after being silent about his dating life for a while. This was what they exactly like: a story about a former playboy and his current lover kept in secret. And since he was only known to be involved exclusively with women before, a male partner would be juicy topic to feed.
Oliver was past learning how to ignore such rumors, but it was the other people linked to him that he was worried about. It was terrible when he revealed William as his son that it took more than a month for the news to die, added to the fact that the kid was grieving for Samantha.
Suffice to say, it was a messy disaster.
Now, there was Barry too. Paparazzi watching the speedster's every move and making him a possible target as much as he knew Barry could take of himself were not how Oliver wanted to repay him.
"Hello?"
"Barry."
Crap. The clock read past the time he was supposed to meet with Oliver. He sighed. "I don't think I can make it today. Sorry."
There was a pause from the other line. "It's fine. And it's not why I called."
"Oh." He was somewhat relieved. "Is there something wrong?"
"Nothing. It's... A tabloid article in Star City."
Barry blinked. He didn't know Oliver read those.
"It's about us. You, mostly. I want you to hear it from me first."
A tabloid article about him. Huh.
"It insinuated that you're the person I'm currently dating." Oliver continued when he was met with silence, "There are stolen pictures. And though I'm not sure if they reach Central yet, better be careful."
Yep, he definitely said that.
Barry cleared his throat. "Thanks for the heads up," he replied simply, no idea what to make of the news.
There was an awkward atmosphere despite not speaking in person. It was ridiculous.
"That's all. I'll get back to the office."
"Wait," Barry called before Oliver could even end the line. "Uh, Joe is extending his invitation to dinner to you and William next week. If you can make it?" He changed the subject as fast as he could to take their minds off the matter. "It's fine if you're not available."
"We'll be there."
"Great."
If Barry's chuckles sounded forced, Oliver didn't comment.
xvi
Joe never approved of Oliver Queen. It was a known fact since day one. He disapproved of Barry's connection to him, particularly to the vigilante.
Though he has respect for the Green Arrow, especially with the Bivolo incident that had happened.
But he guessed Joe didn't like Oliver Queen overall with the billionaire's previous rep.
It came as a surprise when the detective invited the mayor and his son to the West residence willingly. And while Barry chalked it up to feeling lonely living alone in the house now that Wally was away, he couldn't stop wondering why.
He wondered if Joe knew of his recent arrangements with Oliver that his foster father might have thought it was a thing still going on. Joe wasn't stupid—he might have realized where Barry ran to at the peak of his grieving for Iris.
He hoped the dinner wouldn't end up as an interrogation or else…
Barry sighed. It could perfectly be taken that way if Joe became aware of his growing infatuation for Oliver Queen.
Infatuation.
Just when he thought he wouldn't be able to have that kind of feelings anymore, he was proven wrong.
Oliver was similar to a strong force of nature that pulls you in the middle and found the calm there. It wasn't the same with having butterflies in your stomach or heart beating erratically like what it was with Iris; it was more of having peace within, heartbeat calming down when he was with him in the same room.
While Iris made him forget the outside world and his insecurities, with Oliver it was the opposite—he couldn't lost himself to the small perfect world he created, but he could brave the reality.
Perhaps it was also the reason why he sought him before, why he kept finding himself in his arms and tangle of legs. Why he was drawn to the prospect of pleasure without strings attached that he could only do exclusively with Oliver and with no one else.
Oliver was his living assurance that Barry was still alive after he felt his heart shattered to pieces that night months ago. He was a reminder Barry has a chance to live his life and do right by stopping the cemented course of the future and alter it the way Savitar could never be born.
What he has for him and her were both different, yet special in their own way.
Looking at Oliver across the dining table, smiling proudly as William regaled stories from school that had Joe fondly listening to the kid he met for the first time, something clicked to Barry.
This was the answer to the when and how he had been asking himself.
"I'm thinking of moving back here," he said suddenly. "Uh, leave the apartment permanently."
Joe appeared to be taken aback at the declaration but broke into happiness when he realized what it meant. "You'll always be welcome here, Barr."
"Will just have to organize the stuffs there this weekend," he told them. "I can do that anytime but I think I should do it, you know, in normal speed."
Putting away the things with sentimental value would take more than a simple sweep, Barry acknowledged. Especially when deciding what to keep and not.
"William and I will help," Oliver said, turning to his son. "Right, buddy?"
William nodded. "Yup!" He surprisingly giddy for a kid at the idea of cleaning. "Do we get to have sleepover at Barry's place?"
"Of course." Barry winked. "You get to see where the Flash sleeps."
He chuckled when William's eyes widened in awe.
"Well, seems like you already have two helpers," Joe said. "And one who will do most of the heavy lifting." He pointed to the boy in amusement.
When Barry didn't miss the genuinely glad expression of Oliver, he returned it with his wide grin.
xvii
"Is this a turtle?"
"That's McSnurtle," Barry told the boy. "It was given to us by a friend."
"But turtles are slow." William frowned. "And you're fast."
"Ironic that my pet is opposite of me?" Barry supplied. "You're right. It's funny."
"He's cute though." He tapped a finger on the animal's mouth.
"You can keep him if you want."
The kid gasped. "For real?"
"Yeah. Though you'll have to keep his name."
Oliver entered the living room, setting the box filled with trinkets beside Barry's feet. "Now he'll sleep with the turtle beside him."
"A companion could do him good." Barry bent down to tape the box and labeled the top, sliding it towards the other boxes designated to be given away.
The older man was thoughtful for a second. "Having a pet could teach him about responsibilities," he relented.
"Exactly."
The younger man trudged to the master bedroom, with Oliver quietly on his heels. It was on the same state half a year ago, her clothes in the closet and most of her stuffs on the dresser. He never had a heart to clear them away nor touch them. But he knew she would never come back, and Iris' belongings would only gather dust. He legs felt heavy, firmly planted on the floor. He had been in this position numerous times, always hesitating and then giving up in the end.
"Let me help," Oliver offered after seeing Barry's reaction. "We can do this."
With him, perhaps there was no second-guessing his actions this time.
William was peacefully slumbering at the couch with the television on by the time the two were finished with the bedroom. After finally organizing the boxes in one side of the living room and leaving the whole unit almost bare save for the couch and the home entertainment system. They both slumped on the boy's right, trying not to rouse the latter up who was holding protectively the bowl with the turtle inside.
"Playing with McSnurtle must be tiring," Barry commented lightly, watching the boy along with Oliver.
Oliver adjusted William to his side, gingerly cradling his head to nestle it on the curve of his arm. Barry watched the two fondly, leaning sideways on the back of the couch, chin on forearm. He remembered once wishing having a child or two of his own one day and going home to his small family.
"What are you thinking?" Oliver asked him, head tilting on Barry's direction.
"Something I remembered," he murmured. The other man raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue. "I used to dream of having a family, have kids and get home to my partner." He used to picture Iris to be the one waiting for him faithfully after a hard day at work, but he already came into terms of the impossibility of that idea.
The mayor seemed to get what was left unsaid when Barry smiled wanly. "I thought William considers you as part of ours?" He absentmindedly stroked the boy's small arm.
"Really?"
"I know it's not the same as what you wanted," Oliver started. "But I'd like that. You, me, and William," he said truthfully. He reached out, holding the side of Barry's face.
The latter couldn't help but lean on the hand, the comforting feeling overwhelmed the slight surprise at the sudden display of affection. "I'd like that too," he replied, almost breathy.
"Come here." Oliver spread his arms wider, tugging him on his unoccupied side. Barry complied and tucked himself in, head resting on the former's chest. It was warm, and then warmer when Oliver encircled him and William in a somewhat hug.
"I thought you're not a hugger," Barry teased.
"Shut up," Oliver said without heat, but faintly amused. "This is an exception."
"I better get used to this then."
Barry thought it felt like the safest place in the world at the moment as he relaxed further at the comforting hand going up and down on his back.
xviii
Barry awkwardly shifted on his feet, nervously looking around the hall. He wasn't really sure what he was doing there, mingling with the important people of Star City and neighboring cities like Central and Coast in a ball hosted by Mayor Queen himself. He didn't know he was asking for this when he agreed to Oliver's invitation in order to return the favor of helping him move out of his apartment.
It wasn't that bad, considering William was also around and playing with the young children brought along. And he didn't mind being a babysitter for the evening.
Though he seemed to be getting attention from unknown people. Okay, some he recognized on televisions and showbiz news he saw Iris watching once. He tried to avoid them as possible, not wanting to inflame the rumors Oliver told him about. He found himself sipping champagne in a corner, eyes not leaving William, or if he ever did, his eyes would go look around for Oliver who he rarely caught glimpse of. Not that Barry blamed him, he was the mayor after all and it was his duty to entertain the guests.
He just hoped he didn't give away that he was feeling out of place of this formal event.
Oliver politely greeted each new comer while his eyes darted at the large venue for any sign of Barry. He dearly hoped the younger man wasn't bored out of his mind, or tired chasing William around.
When he managed to spot him somewhere inconspicuous, he didn't waste time any longer to approach him.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, tone light.
"Keeping an eye on William if I can." Barry turned to Oliver. "And what is the mayor doing at my corner?"
"Checking on you." Oliver offered him a small plate. "And personally delivering food." Any protests of I'm not hungry died down when Barry saw the pieces of sushi and Californian maki.
He dug in as the other man watched him finished the dish in few bites. Oliver's lips were close to curling into a smirk. "Before you say anything, I'm not hungry. I just like these."
"I'm not going to say anything though." The mayor spared a glance to the gradually swelling crowd of guests, and then noticing some flashes of camera at his and Barry's direction. "Are you hiding, by any chance?"
The younger man went sheepish. "I thought of what you said before, about the article. And uh, I don't want them thinking the wrong way about you."
"I think they already did. Years ago. And my association with you is not bad for my image."
"But they think we're—"
"Exactly. I can date whoever I want."
Oh. "Date?" Wait. We're not dating, are we?
Oliver looked rather amused. "I'm saying I hardly care what they think."
At the background, the music changed into a mellow jazz tune that prompted the couples at the dance floor to waltz. The mood was set up nicely for slow dancing.
"That's the signal for you to go back to your guests."
"You're my guest too. Technically, I'm with one of them."
Fair point, actually. Barry assured him with a smile. "I'll be fine. Now go. Everybody wants to have a piece of the mayor."
"If that's what they wish, then I'll gladly command." Oliver stood straighter in front of him and offering his hand. "May I have this dance?"
Barry blinked. "What? Not me. I mean them."
"Like I said, you're one of the guests too."
"Yeah, but I'm not as important—"
"Trust me," Oliver said, expression softening. "You're one of the most important people to me present here than all of them combined."
Barry's face went warm at the declaration. He turned away, looking anywhere but Oliver and the proffered hand yet to be taken. "I have two left feet though so I might step on your toes," he warned half-heartedly.
The older man's lips twitched into a smile. "I'll take that as a yes." He gathered Barry's hand on his own.
When he got no complain as he laced their fingers together in a firm hold, Oliver gently pulled him to the center of the floor, joining the other couples swaying to the beat.
Barry propped his left hand on Oliver's shoulder while the latter's right attached itself on his waist. Their free hands were stuck together away from their bodies as Oliver led the steps.
They didn't have to wait for more clicks and flashes of cameras to be heard. Reporters and tabloid journalists that Oliver could barely keep away were probably having their field day with pictures of the mayor and his mystery boyfriend, as what the headlines would label. Barry's name would be mentioned by then, and he would be getting some of the media's attention.
But neither cared.
Oliver was occupied at the moment counting Barry's freckles that seemed to dance on his skin. He was busy losing himself to green eyes with shade of emerald, and long eyelashes. He couldn't turn away from this pure being that he was holding for himself.
Barry was just as lost with those blue eyes studying him. His fingers were itching to trace patterns on Oliver's facial hair and strong jawline. He longed to cradle his face and run his thumb on chapped lips. He has the sole attention of this man he privately adored that Barry wanted nothing more than this alone.
It was a wonder how a simple slow dancing seemed more intimate than joining their bodies; how this felt more real than the carnal activities they had indulged in. Somehow, they learned more of each other this way than seeing bare skins; how this felt more wonderful than attaining pleasure.
Their foreheads were connected by the end of the music with satisfied smiles painting their faces.
"You're not bad," Oliver commented. "But still more room for practice."
"Plenty of practice," Barry corrected. "I swear I stepped on you more than twice."
"Five times. I can barely feel my toe." Oliver received a light smack. "Kidding."
"Look at you, cracking a joke." He snorted. "Must be a special day."
"It is," the mayor agreed, head finding the side of Barry's. "It's a very special day."
"Indeed," Barry said, relaxing on the arms that formed into a semi-embrace.
The only thought he could register was that he had fallen for the second time around.
xix
Oliver checked his watch for the nth time.
For some reason, the day dragged slower than usual today.
One hour left to six, he could finally leave the city hall and meet Barry for dinner date. He already sent William for an overnight at his classmate's home, who happened to be a close friend as well. Oliver planned the evening to be exclusively theirs, as for how tonight would flow, he would leave it to fate.
He has been positive about this lately—regarding him and Barry. His gut has been telling him to give them a chance, to simply let them be and watch how their relationship unfold and bloom into something more. Something deeper and more than just a simple friendship.
It was a huge risk. But damn if they were not willing to take it.
Oliver distracted himself with another batch of paperwork as half the hour passed by. With a final signature, he stood up and called for his secretary.
"I'll be leaving a bit earlier today," he said when he heard the door open. "If you can…" he trailed off, seeing the person he least expected by the doorway. "Susan."
"Your secretary let me in," the reporter said, trudging inside. She regarded him from head to toe, smiling in appreciation. "Date night?"
"Can I help you, Ms. Williams?" Oliver asked in return.
"Was checking to see if I can get an exclusive with the mayor."
"I don't recall having an appointment with you."
"We don't have one, yes. But I'm sure you can spare me at least twenty minutes for this."
He sighed. "I can't, unfortunately."
"Even if it's about Mr. Allen?" Susan insisted, sitting on one of the arm chair, crossing her legs.
"All the more reason I can't entertain you."
"Come on now, Mayor Queen. You owe us at least for that display at Star City's annual ball." She stared up at Oliver. "Not to mention the tabloid pictures of you coming from his family's house at Central, from his own apartment. What else? Ah, him coming from your flat too." Oliver didn't dignify with an answer. "Is it true that he's your new romantic interest then?"
"I thought your coverage doesn't include petty gossips," he asked instead, trying not to be carried away with annoyance. "If you are here for those, I'm afraid I can't allow that within my schedule."
"Can you at least answer me at why the sudden change of taste?" she continued. "Because last time I checked, I was the one before him," she said bitterly.
"Is this about what it is?" Oliver vaguely remembered the unclear way they broke up in order to avoid involving her in his affairs as the Green Arrow, especially when Chase had targeted her as well. "I'm sorry," he told her sincerely.
"I don't need your apology. It's an explanation that I want. Why?"
He considered his answer carefully. "To protect you." From Chase and enemies that the vigilante gathered over the years. "Because I wouldn't be able to bear if anything more happened to you back then. If you died, then I was to blame. I didn't want to involve any more innocent life when their bloods are already on my hands."
He watched for her reaction as she came closer and invaded his personal space. He was anticipating a sharp slap on the face, but what he got was her fingers curling at his nape, bringing him down to meet her lips in a hard kiss that tasted of good bye. He didn't return the gesture though he let her pull away first.
"Thank you for telling me the truth." Her thin arms wound themselves on his torso. He laid a comforting touch on her back, an unspoken offer of sympathy.
When his gaze landed on the door that he never heard opening, Susan felt him tense. Turning her back to see what caused the reaction, she saw Barry Allen standing there in shock, frozen in place as he misunderstood the situation.
The moment she disentangled herself, Oliver immediately chased him, running like a mad man down the hallway.
Oliver just proved to her that Barry Allen was more than an interest to him, but rather somebody held dear and made him terrified to lose.
It was clear enough to see that Mayor Queen is in love.
Fortunately for Oliver, Barry didn't use his speed, but still fast at avoiding him at all cost.
"Barry!"
The younger man stopped right outside the building without facing Oliver.
"I can explain what you saw," the mayor said once he got nearer. "It's not what you think it is."
Barry turned around, expression stony. "I think I know what I saw." He refused to meet the other's eyes. "And this is me mistaking everything lately. When I thought you feel the same," he admitted with voice little. "That you want to patch our friendship and to develop it to something greater. But that's only me because you're so good at pretending that it hurts. What are we really doing Oliver? Ruining what's already in ruins?"
Oliver's chest made an ugly twist at Barry's words, cursing internally for causing hurt to this person who had seen his worst. He gently held Barry's face on his palms. "I told Susan the truth on why I stopped seeing her. She needed the closure and I gave it. You might not forgive me for what you saw. But I want you to know that you're not mistaking anything, nor am I pretending. What you thought is true." Oliver pulled him towards his chest, wrapping him with his arms, holding him tighter as the faintly audible sobs and sniffles came. "I love you, Barry Allen, and what I have with you, I don't want with anyone else.
"I know I couldn't replace her, but either way, I'll love you the way I know how."
"You're right. You can never replace her."
Oliver smiled wryly. "Because I'll be a poor substitute?"
Barry shook his head. "Because you're more than just a replacement."
When he confirmed that this wasn't a dream, he wound himself around Oliver's neck, inhaling his scent, not wanting to let go which the older man was more than glad to comply as he hushed him, patting his back.
"Do you mean what you said?"
"Of course," Oliver assured him, mouth finding Barry's temple and pressing his lips there. "I mean every word."
"I'm glad." Barry merely stood once he released himself. "I love you too."
"I know."
They met each other halfway, closing the space between them. Oliver closed his eyes at the sensation. He asked himself why never kissed him before. Kissing Barry was like a familiar and foreign feeling at the same time. It was both like coming home and exploring new depths—what he badly needed since then.
With him was the only place he would call where he belonged.
As for Barry, kissing Oliver was akin to a promise of new beginning, of more journeys to take. He was filled with life and boldness to face the world and everything it has to offer. Oliver was his pillar, friend, and partner that he could count on.
With him was the only place he would call his face haven.
The future is uncertain now, but they would brave it.
Together.
xx
Their movements were slower but with every bit of passion and tenderness they could muster. Mouths dragged on bare expanses of skin in silent worship and ardor. They took their time in taking each other apart, savoring each delicious shivers that racked their bodies, and tasting sweat and essences as if they were honey.
It was beyond the raw slapping of skin against skin, and more of delicate touches and loving caresses. More than the moans and growls of pleasure, and instead whispers of adoration and promises.
Barry absently ran his nails on Oliver's back. He leaned on an ear. "Take me." Arousal was nudging against the older man's hip. He would never ceases to be amazed at the speedster's refractory period after he had Barry released thrice.
"Gladly." Oliver moved upwards, placing a chaste kiss on the younger man's forehead.
He went back down, spreading long limbs apart. He poured a generous amount of lube on his palm to lather his fingers. With deft precision, he encircled the tight cavern, dipping tentatively on the heat. He breached his whole finger as he felt Barry relax at the cold intrusion. Oliver pushed in and out to stretch the muscle before adding another finger. He scissored the narrow channel with skill and patience, dragging on the inner walls to find the sweet spot. At the change of angle, Barry was meeting him thrust per thrust, silent cries spilling from his mouth. To ensure he had prepped him thoroughly, Oliver added a third finger for good measure, his manhood hardening painfully at the sight of his lover coming undone with mere fingers, the feel of warm velvet and squelching passage, and the noise Barry was making.
"Ollie, I need you inside," Barry managed, almost wailing in between pants of breath.
Who was Oliver to refuse that request?
He lined himself on the entrance, sheathing his cock inch by inch and stopping now and then to check on Barry, who would urge him to continue. The heat was much suffocating without the latex that he grunted at the sensitivity whenever the other clenched on the shaft. With the last painstaking push, he was buried to the hilt, barely keeping himself from withdrawing and forcefully going in. But he was making love tonight and not mere animalistic copulation. He would have Barry enjoy the process as much as him.
He shifted, hands planted on either side of Barry as the latter adjusted. He stared up at Oliver, emerald eyes twinkling in expectation. Oliver leaned down to capture his partner in a long, deep kiss. Their tongues started to twist on each other as if on a sensual dance, exploring wet heat, faintly tasting their own on each other's tongue.
Oliver began his shallow thrusts, pulling back a little and then grinding as far as he could reach. Barry whimpered at the agonizing pace, mewling when he requested for him to go faster. As the older man changed his angle, the speedster bit back a choked moan as his prostrate was hit. Oliver speared on the same spot over and over, gradually gaining speed. He sucked on Barry's swollen lip and nibbled between his teeth, swallowing his moans as Barry matched Oliver's movements. Fingers were entwined together as legs pressed on Oliver's waist, and soles of feet pushed him further in. He pounded in the tightness with the given limited space, never missing the spot that made his lover see stars.
His hips stuttered at the sudden vibration, signaling the speedster's nearness on his peak. He gripped Barry's cock, pumping him simultaneously as he pounded harder and faster inside. The sensation became more intense—the younger man vibrating and clenching his muscles, thrusting up on his hand and screaming incoherent string of words and Oliver's name that went straight to Oliver's manhood, eager to climax and release his seed in his lover. With a few rough strokes later, Barry spilled on his palm and his stomach, ribbons of white staining his abdomen and some on the sheets.
It should be illegal that he looked terribly debouched but breathtaking still, and Oliver was the one who made him at that state. Groaning, Oliver filled him with huge amount of thick load, not stopping his thrusts as he rode his orgasm. Barry was overwhelmed with the feeling of being full to the brim, letting out a low moan as he encircled his arms on Oliver's neck, pulling him in a tired kiss.
He pulled out gently once recovered and member softening, pecking on Barry's cheek when he winced at the emptiness. "You okay?" Oliver asked while pushing away the strands of hair on Barry's forehead wet with sweat.
"Never been better." He grinned lazily. He scooted to the older man when he lied down beside him. "Feeling sleepy though," he mumbled tiredly, eyes drooping close.
Oliver covered their naked bodies with the blanket, spooning Barry under the covers. "Barry?"
"Mmhm?"
"Good night."
He was answered with soft snores.
xxi
Oliver could count with one hand the nights he slept without nightmares ever since coming back from the island.
He had another one to add now.
He smiled contentedly, blindly reaching on his side to hold Barry. Though instead, he found an empty space. He became alarmed when he realized the sheets were cold. He stood up, not allowing himself to dwell on the thought that Barry might have considered the previous night as another of their casual sex.
He was saved from any more negative thinking when the door cracked open, Barry slipping inside with a tray of food. "You're up."
Seeing his lover beaming like a child at the prospect of eating made Oliver relieved of whatever the hell he was worrying about in the first place.
"So… breakfast?" Barry offered.
"You brought me breakfast in bed?" Oliver mused. "I feel honored."
"As you should be," Barry told him. "It's for last night," he said, voice dropping an octave, mimicking a purr.
"Don't you dare use that on me or these will get wasted," the mayor chided him.
"Or you can ditch those and have me for breakfast instead," the speedster suggested playfully, and then breaking into a laugh at the other man's reaction. "Your face is funny, Ollie," he pointed out with mirth.
Oliver set the tray aside, advancing towards Barry sitting at the edge of the bed. "Oh, you mean, you're only kidding?" he asked huskily on one ear. "And here am I who thought you're included on the menu. Pity."
"Depends on who's asking," the younger man teased back. "If it's Mayor Queen, I might reconsider."
Hunger was long forgotten when he got a bunch of lazy morning kisses in return. Not that anybody was complaining—it was definitely the best choice.
xxii
They released the assorted flower petals on the sea, letting the waves carry them for those they were intended. They got a single kind of each, as tribute individually to the former Team Arrow and allies. They were family and friends as well, and most of them were considered part of Barry's own family of a team. Those people might not be around anymore but they would live on in Oliver and Barry's memories and in the days to come.
There was something freeing in letting go, of finally accepting things that could never undone and go back to. And maybe it's alright to have those missing pieces inside and simply let them be than try hard to find what could possibly fit in. In that empty space, there was a potential for growth of something special and unique that didn't have to conform.
They were still both works in progress, but whatever. They have all the time for improvement and further development.
Especially if you have the fastest man alive for a partner.
"Let's go home."
Lacing their fingers together, they knew they would be fine.
THE END
eck, i made gay porn. lol
thanks for the read.