A/N: Heyyy, first Barry/Ralph fic. Thought I'd write one up due to the emphasis of their (platonic) relationship on the show recently. This fic is prob going to be a series of moments these two had sex throughout season 4, but for now it's just a one-shot, since I don't know when I'll get around to writing more.
WARNING: Barry is EXTREMELY resistant to sex at first and Ralph pushes despite that, but in the end you'll see Barry wasn't quite as unopposed to the experience as he let on.
*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.
...
He'd been so sure. He'd been positive.
It was always the husband. Always the husband. Always the husband.
And while he could admit – on occasion – that maybe his bias got in the way of correct judgment in the rare instances when it wasn't the husband (there hadn't been many), he wasn't wrong this time. He knew he wasn't wrong. Everything added it up to it being the husband.
But there was no evidence – or not enough at least. He had nothing solid to hold him on, but the idea of letting a guilty man walk free simply because he'd been clever enough to clean up his mess rattled every bone in his ace detective body.
So, he did what was necessary. He made the evidence. He planted it. And he got the guy convicted. On top of that, the praise around the precinct was boundless. He was a hero, and rightly so.
Well, by the majority. There were two CCPD employees who found the sudden new evidence suspect: Detective Joe West, who he had extreme respect for, and new forensic scientist, Barry Allen.
His blood boiled even as he thought his name. Who did this kid think he was? Fresh out of the classroom and determined to stick to the rules, he knew nothing about the reality of justice and the responsibility the police had to protect the people of Central City. All her cared about was the law, the rules. He assumed they would keep people safe. Well, sometimes they did. But sometimes they didn't too. The fact that this rookie didn't even consider how making the exception in this scenario was the right call made Ralph hate him even more.
But that didn't matter. It didn't change the outcome. The captain hadn't told him who the whistleblower was, but there was no other likely suspect. Ralph knew that Joe probably was only suspicious because Allen had vented to him about it and convinced him he was right. He had raised the boy after all. Of course, he was inclined to believe him.
And yeah, he knew the baby-faced CSI hadn't had the easiest life at the beginning – dad being convicted of his mom's murder when he was only eleven years old. That was a hell of a lot harder than his dad running off on him and his mom. Maybe. But Joe West had swept that boy up and given him a loving home every day of his life since that night.
Barry Allen couldn't complain. He had everything.
He took the steps two at a time, heading down the hall to the CSI lab, his hands clenching and unclenching as he prepared to deliver a near violent speech to the stupid kid who had ruined his career, gotten him fired, when all he'd been trying to do was put the guilty guy away. Now he was walking the streets and could never be accused of this particular crime again. Probably. It didn't matter. Ralph was going to have his two cents with Barry Allen before he admitted defeat and left the building for good.
He stopped at the doorway and just stared for a while, watching the idiot look into a microscope, analyzing some kind of data.
It was a warm summer day. The windows were open, and Barry Allen had stripped himself of the light jacket he'd worn when he walked into CCPD earlier that day. He was in a plaid – always plaid – button-down shirt and khakis. Due to the lack of air conditioning in the room, the captain had told Barry he could wear a short-sleeved shirt to work if he wanted to. At least until they could get the AC fully operational. Since he said that every summer, Ralph bet Barry fully planned on wearing short sleeves until the weather cooled down again. Something the detectives on the first floor would never get the chance to do.
He didn't know why, but that embittered him further. AC was certainly preferable to scorching heat in a stuffy room with only the slightest breeze wafting through, but it was yet another thing Barry benefited from that Ralph didn't. Because Ralph was unemployed indefinitely after this poor excuse for a lawful employee ratted him out for doing what was right.
He pushed himself off the door frame and walked into the room.
"I know it was you."
Startled, Barry jumped back in his seat and nearly tripped over his own feet in his attempt to immediately stand up. His first reaction had been shock; he was taken off guard. But once he saw who had walked in on him, his eyebrows narrowed and his hands sank into his pockets.
"You broke the law, Ralph."
"Detective Dibny to you."
"Not anymore," he spat.
Ralph shook his head and walked towards him, ready to punch him out. Because really, what more could do they do to him? Arrest him for assault?
"You have a lot of gall, Rookie, pulling what you did."
"I did what was right. What you failed to do."
"I did what was right." He slammed his hand onto the table Barry stood behind.
"You tried to send an innocent man to jail."
Ralph took a step back, turned away, turned back, shook his finger at him.
"No. No, no, no, no. You let a guilty man free."
"There was no evidence!"
"Just like there was no evidence in your mom's murder?"
Barry stiffened and paled.
"I bet it just…kills you, waking up every day, knowing your father is a killer and that people think you're crazy because you made up this dumb story about a man in lightning-"
"Shut up."
He took a step closer.
"Your dad killed your mom, Barry. You just haven't accepted it yet."
"Shut up!" He lunged at him and pushed him across the room.
Ralph was stronger than Barry, who was so scrawny it was amazing he was able to stand on his own two feet. He didn't even hit the wall before he'd stopped and pushed him off.
"I think I hit a nerve."
Barry's fists clenched at his sides, and suddenly Ralph was intrigued.
He was pissed as hell at Barry Allen, and he knew he always would be, but the kid was usually calm and composed – when he wasn't running late to the job every morning…or spilling his papers out all over the lab floor. Point was, he didn't get angry. He got anxious and overeager and he was certainly dedicated to his job, but he'd never seen him lose his temper.
"Don't talk about my mother. Or my father. You don't know anything," he spat.
Ralph smiled and slipped his own hands into his pockets. Suddenly Barry Allen was intriguing him more and more.
He let his eyes take in Barry's fuming facial expression, then take in his lanky form, which consisted of non-existent muscles and pale skin. There was nothing overly attractive about this scrawny kid. He supposed his hair was all right and height certainly was a bonus, but… He could not deny the semi-arousal he felt in getting this kid who thought he knew it all up in knots when he talked about his mother.
"It's not against the law, is it? I mean…" He shrugged and took a few steps closer. "You would know."
"Shut u-"
He kissed him. Ralph yanked the young CSI by the collar of his shirt and kissed him.
It was short-lived. Barry pushed him away immediately and wiped his lips, disgusted.
"What the hell?"
Ralph rolled his eyes, smiling shamelessly now.
"Aww, come on, Barry. It's my last day. Surely you'll leave me with some good memory to go home with."
Barry scoffed. "Like being accused of sexual assault? I have enough to go on right now."
"But you won't do that, will you?"
"What stopping me?"
Ralph took another step forward, but Barry took one back.
"Afraid you'll like it?"
"I hate you."
"The feeling's mutual."
A stare down for all of three seconds and then –
Another kiss, this one from Barry, and a ravenous one at that. Taller than him, Ralph could hardly catch his breath as the younger man held tightly to his collar and awkwardly, sloppily kissed him with all the hatred that was pent up inside him.
A beat later he released him, breathing heavily.
The stare-off began again. Ralph could see Barry was stuck in between horrified by what had just happen and the eagerness to do it again. He debated taunting him some more but was positive that would kill the mood – and now he was not just semi-aroused. His pants were tight. He needed a release. He needed a hand job, a blow job, and a good thrust to the ass. Several thrusts wouldn't be bad either.
But he figured that was a little too much to ask from a kid who hated his guts and could barely kiss decent.
Before Barry could reconsider whatever direction he'd been going in minutes earlier, Ralph closed the distance again, and he didn't let Barry separate them. He kissed his hard, hot, heavy. He tugged at his hair and ripped the buttons off his shirt. He unbuckled Barry's belt, pushing him further and further back until he landed in the chair behind his desk with his pants in a pool on the floor around his shoes and his boxers pulled down passed his cock, half-still on his ass cheeks.
"Holy shit," he gasped when Ralph took his cock in his hand and started to pump it.
Barry's eyes were glued to the motion. His mind foggy with the reality, he could only sit and stare. He hissed when Ralph lowered his mouth to his cock and repeated the previous motions as Ralph's hands lightly squeezed his thighs.
He covered his face in his hands, so he couldn't see.
"Ohhh, my God," he shuddered, stiffening, thrusting up a little unknowingly.
Ralph lifted his head with a pop, causing Barry to pull one hand away to look at him.
"You're a vocal little virgin, aren't you?" he smirked.
Barry didn't answer. Whether that was confirmation or not didn't matter. He was render speechless and mostly motionless, and as far as Ralph was concerned, that was a win.
"My turn," he said, standing up from where he'd been kneeling and stripping himself down to his white cotton tank.
His pants and boxers were on the floor and Barry was staring at his dick as if he'd never seen one before – not one other than his own at any rate and likely not so close to his face either.
"Come on," he urged. "I did it for you. Now you have to return the favor."
"I didn't ask you t-"
"But I did." He inched closer and thrust a little. "Come on, I'm more than aroused. All you need to do is lick me a few times and I'll be ready to pound your ass."
Barry looked up at him wide-eyed and alarmed.
"What? I'm not-I've never-no, we're not."
Ralph rolled his eyes, grabbed hold of his head and forced his mouth on his dick. Barry choked a little but didn't retreat. When his tongue daintily started to swirl around his cock, Ralph released him and enjoyed the pure ecstasy of this boy bobbing up and down his cock. He was no expert, but it still felt pretty fantastic. More so because it was Barry Allen that was doing.
"That's it. There you go. Mmm." He licked his lips and thrust a little into his mouth.
Then, without warning, he stepped back.
"I'm gonna cum in your ass, not your lying mouth."
"I'm not-"
Ralph hauled him to his feet.
"Stop saying you don't like it, Barry. You haven't cried rape yet, and we're in a fucking police precinct. If you really didn't like it, you'd have followed through on that sexual assault threat you delivered earlier."
Barry tensed.
"What you are is nervous…and confused." He spun him around, so he was bent over the desk.
"Ralph, no-"
"We'll fix that."
"Ral-"
And then he was pushing inside him, and they were both shuddering.
Ralph leaned over and whispered in his ear after he'd pulled out some and slowly inched back in again.
"How does that feel, Allen?"
Barry was too far gone to put up a front again.
"It feels amazing." He shuddered again.
Ralph smiled smugly to himself and started to pull out. Then he returned in a thrust slightly more forceful than the one before it. He repeated the cycle, pulling out and pushing in, increasing the speed each time, until he was fucking Barry hard and fast and Barry was reaching across the desk, his hands clamped on the other side as he begged to be fucked harder.
"Oh, fuck. Oh, yes."
"Fucking hell, Barry. Your tight hole is just—argh, fuck, yes."
Ralph pulled his dick free entirely, then stuck three fingers into Barry's hole in its place, causing the younger man to gasp and whisper his name breathily.
"You close, Barry?" he purred.
"Yes," he groaned. "Yes, yes…"
Ralph pulled him upright and turned him around, but before he could finish him off, the thick white liquid streamed out of Barry's cock and pooled on the floor, leaving the boy breathless as he propped himself up on the desk.
Ralph wouldn't push anymore. The sight of Barry Allen having gotten off because of him was enough. He wrapped his own hand around his shaft and pumped it hard and fast until the groans of ecstasy spilled out of him and his own cum spurted out and landed on Barry's thighs.
He took a seat in the chair when it was over and forced himself to breathe normally. Then he chuckled, taking in Barry again, his hair strewn all over and his eyes glazed over.
"You know, if you ever want to fuck again-"
"Get out."
Ralph blinked, shocked by the pure hatred looking back at him. He hadn't expected it to bounce back quite that soon.
"I said fucking get out, Ralph."
He didn't push. After a couple tries, he got himself to his feet and remained steady enough to put his clothes back on. He made no attempt to clean up the mess he made. Instead, he walked right passed his adversary, heading towards the exit. When he turned around to see what had become of the youth, Barry had his clothes back on, the floor cleaned, and he was looking into the microscope as if nothing had happened. For a beat he wondered if it hadn't and he'd just stood there that whole time fantasizing about fucking Barry Allen.
"I didn't know you were so vulgar," Ralph said, his hand on the door frame.
Barry looked up at him, his eyes brimming with hatred and rage.
"Just remember you liked it," he said, cocky as ever. Barry's nose scrunched up in disgust. "Tell the captain right now that I assaulted you if I'm wrong."
Barry moved forward slightly and Ralph half-worried that he was going to go through with it. He knew Barry had been reluctant every step of the way, but he also knew cries of pleasure when he heard them. Barry had not been silent one bit. His loudest cries were ones of ecstasy, not resistance.
He relaxed when Barry sank back into his chair, not moving.
I knew it.
"Until we meet again," he said, then mockingly saluted him.
Barry Allen didn't say a word, and much more cheerfully than he'd been when he arrived, Ralph walked down the hallway and left the building with his box of belongings.
Ralph wouldn't see Barry Allen for several years, but when he did, he knew in that instant that nothing had changed. He still hated his guts – and wanted to fuck him more than ever.