A/N: I'm super excited for this! If you don't follow me on tumblr (backtothestart02), you should know there's a sign up for if you want a certain chapter dedicated to you or not. Several have been requested but not many in season 1, so feel free to let me know in the comments if you'd like one, and I'll let you know if it's been taken yet or not.
*This chapter is dedicated to kyannaj, megananomous, estherpixs, westallen4everlove, & pattonfangirl on tumblr for their initial inspiration and encouragement that I write this fic. Thank you, ladies. I would not have thought of doing this without your dirty minds putting the idea into my head. XD
Also, a note about this chapter - I completely forgot about how the episode title is supposed to play into the content of the dream. But! Since 'pilot' is kind of like a default for the first episode of every series, so will be the case for this fic. It fits into the pilot episode and is sort of an example of what future chaps will be (in that it's a sex fantasy that happens to either Barry or Iris in every episode of the series). Those though will center on the official episode titles they're given, since they're actually crafted based on what happens in the episode and not something generic done for every show.
*And ofc, many thanks to my wonderful beta, sendtherain, who looked this over for me. :D
...
Chapter 1 - Pilot (1x01)
Barry sat at the desk, tapping his fingers in a light staccato rhythm beside the keyboard, his eyes starting to burn with how long he'd gone without blinking, his occasionally uneven breathing making his fisted hand hot at his mouth. He knew – just knew – this day could have gone better.
He'd gotten on the earliest train he could from Starling City, which as luck would have it was the last possible train he could have taken to get back to Central City without Captain Singh calling to give him an earful. Just as he'd gotten off the train at the station, Joe texted – WHERE ARE YOU? Alarmed, he'd skimmed through any missed calls, of which there were seven. All from Joe. All telling him there was a crime scene to be at, and he couldn't afford to be late again.
Not trusting any vehicle transportation to get him there faster than his own feet could, Barry ran to the scene of the crime, bumping into several people along the way and no doubt hitting them with the CSI briefcase he'd had to quickly grab at CCPD before heading over to where he'd been expected to be likely fifteen minutes prior.
And with no good excuse at that.
After some awkward bumbling and decisive reasoning though, his work there was done. The detectives could take over from there. His only task was to process some tests, form some logical reasoning, and then he'd be home free, ready to collect his things, meet up with Iris, and embark on the greatest journey of his life: his trip to STAR Labs to see the greatest mind in the 21st Century ignite the city with his particle accelerator firsthand.
But the tests were taking longer than expected, and he worried the 'greatest journey of his life' would have to be abandoned in favor of watching it all unfold as a news report from the protestors' point of view on the ground.
He was supposed to have met Iris for lunch. He hadn't seen her in several days – not since he left for Starling City – and he was aching to. There was something he wanted to tell her, and ask her too. Tonight wasn't just going to be about seeing the greatest technology come to life right here in Central City, it would be about changing the course of his relationship with his best friend, Iris West.
It was a huge decision on his part, and one that was in the process of turning him into nothing but a bundle of nerves. But it was time. It had been fifteen years, and he hadn't said a word. He'd justified why time and again, but he knew it had to be said. Iris had never been in a serious relationship in all their twenty-five years – he hadn't either. That had to be a deliberate choice on her end, just like it had been on his. Maybe. Hopefully.
But as one hour turned into two, then three, as the computer tests struggled to get past 1% to three and then five, as the diagrams he drew and the pictures he pinned to the board gathered up, it became obvious his plan to meet up with Iris for lunch to discuss their evening activities – regarding both the particle accelerator and them – were going to have to be pushed aside until later.
His one attempt to sneak out of the lab to go see her had Joe shoving a bag of Big Belly Burger takeout food at his chest with a knowing look just before he turned back around to return to his desk on the first floor of the precinct. With a deep sigh, Barry held the delivery to his chest, set it down near the slow-running computer, and barely finished half his burger before starting to sulk again.
With greasy fingers, he texted Iris to tell her that he wouldn't be able to meet for lunch, to which she responded with a sad face emoticon followed by a cheerful message indicating how just fine that would be, since her co-worker Stacy wanted to leave early and couldn't find anyone to cover her shift.
Convenient, Barry thought to himself, wondering if she would have cancelled on him with this excuse if he hadn't said anything anyway.
No, Barry, he scolded himself. She's your best friend. She wouldn't do that.
He sighed. "If she had no other choice, she would." Just like he had no other choice now.
But just as he was about to succumb to full on negativity, to wonder if he was cursed somehow by today's events, and that not seeing modern mankind's greatest invention come to life was somehow proof that things were about to go even more downhill, the sound of clacking heels could be heard down the hall. The particular strut that accompanied them told him loud and clear who it was. Not Joe. Not Singh. Not an assistant to someone else giving him more paperwork to do. Iris.
His heart raced faster and he clumsily sat up in his chair, waiting for her arrival.
"You didn't really think I'd let you skip out on our lunch date, did you?" She grinned as she walked into the room.
His heart skipped a beat. Butterflies fluttered wildly in his stomach. He smiled so wide it hurt, but he couldn't help it, and he didn't try to suppress it. He was used to that reaction when it came to seeing her – especially since it had been days, not hours, since their last interaction.
"I thought you were covering someone else's shift."
She stopped halfway to him abruptly and frowned. "I was. I am."
The question lingered in his eyes.
She dropped her purse where she stood, closed the distance between them, and pulled him up out of his chair, keeping their fingers intertwined as she stared up into his eyes.
He was still semi-confused, but a smile twitched at the corner his lips. Confusion never stopped him from being happy with her, especially not when she was bubbling with happiness just being in the same room with him.
She rolled her eyes as his speechlessness continued.
"An eight-hour shift equals a lunch break, Barry." She shook her head at him when he still said nothing. "So, I can afford to be here, even if my dad won't let you leave."
"Ah." He nodded and smiled.
"I missed you," she confided and took a step closer.
They were really close now. So much so that the lack of air between them stole his breath. And was it just him or was she…staring at his lips? And did she just…lick her lips as she stared? He licked his own lips – quickly, so as not to be noticed. His mouth was getting dry. The oxygen was being sucked out of the room. He was sure of it. There was no other explanation.
He thought of opening a window, but suddenly couldn't remember if that was even possible. It had always felt at least mildly stuffy in this room for a reason.
"Aren't you going to tell me you missed me, Barry?" she asked, setting her hands on his waist, still staring at his lips, sultry seduction in her eyes as they finally met his again.
"Iris?" he squeaked, tripping over his own feet as he backed away two steps.
She grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and pulled him to her, his lips now mere inches above hers.
He could barely breathe now, but he knew he was breathing because it was the only thing he could hear while being so close to her. He felt sweat on his forehead, on the back of his neck, and worried that it would drip onto her, and wow, wouldn't that just add to his streak of bad luck today – but it didn't, and he couldn't look away.
"Tell me you missed me," she whispered, her breath hot against his lips.
"I…"
And then she kissed him. A real kiss, full-on. Not gentle – fierce, passionate, intense. Iris knew what she wanted, and it was him. Despite the inevitability of it, it still took him by surprise, but he didn't pull away. This could be a dream for all he knew. He'd had ones like it before. No way was he interrupting this one, especially if it happened to be real.
"God, I missed you, Barry," she murmured, detaching her lips from his to kiss down his throat, winding her arms around his neck as she did.
He groaned, not needing the request again. "I missed you, too."
His arms fell to her waist where they lightly rested until Iris's complaint that his sweater was in the way made him pull back to rid himself of it. She peeled off her jacket and slid out of her skirt and shirt mere moments after so she was in front of him in only her bra and underwear.
His eyes widened, and he couldn't look away. The sweat dripping down his neck was a reminder though that if this wasn't a dream, someone could walk in at any moment. He licked his lips as he stared at her, trying to find his voice again, but it was nearly impossible.
"What – What if someone –" he squeaked and then broke off, heat consuming his face. He knew he had to be blushing.
But Iris only giggled and went to shut the door and lock it, giving him a full view of her barely covered ass swaying from side to side as she did so. By the time she'd turned around and was halfway to him, he'd almost fallen to the floor – Iris unhooking her bra and sliding it off her shoulders likely being the reason for that.
His hand reached around the nearby vicinity searching for a chair – any chair – but he could feel nothing but air. Iris laughed and pulled the very close by chair near them, but when he tried to sit on it, she wouldn't let him.
"Iris," he said in a strangled breath. There was hardly a scrap of clothes on her, and he reeeeally wanted to touch her. But he didn't trust himself to. Not until he was sitting.
Iris went straight for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it from the belt loops and dropping it without precedence on the floor. He gulped – loudly to his own ears, hopefully not to hers.
The sound of her unbuttoning his pants and lowering his zipper made him hiss softly. His fingers were tingling. He really needed his shirt off. Like, now. It was long-sleeved and it was gathering sweat and he was so much more dressed than she was. For some reason in this moment, he wasn't insecure at all that she would find him so much less attractive than he found her. She wasn't giving him even the slightest indication that was a possibility.
She started to tug his pants down, and he could've sworn her own hands were shaking a bit.
"You better be hard for me, Barry Allen, or I swear—"
She stopped and grinned slowly as her hand wrapped around the bulge in his boxers.
He groaned loudly, a sharp intake of breath the only sound accompanying her slowly, torturously, dragging his underwear to his feet on the floor. Her raven hair brushed his thighs – and his hard, very prominent member – as she did so.
"Oh my God, Iris."
"Barry," she said, her breath on his dick, forcing his eyes back on her because it was happening. She was doing it. His eyes stayed glued to hers. He couldn't speak, wasn't sure he was breathing, but then her lips closed over his tip, her mouth moved up the length of him, and he knew right there, right then, that he needed a chair.
His hands fisted in her hair, guiding her – though she hardly needed it – and also trying to slow her down.
"I need – I need – "
She pulled her head back, saliva dripping from her lips that she quickly wiped away with the back of her hand.
"You better not be coming already, Barry."
He shook his head quickly. "No – No – Not."
"Good." She smiled and started to lower her head again.
"Chair," he squeezed out with stifled breath just before her tongue touched his skin.
She halted her descent, looked up at him and smiled, her eyes twinkling.
"Going to fall over, Bear?"
He exhaled loudly in relief. Yes. Finally, she had gotten the message.
"Uh-huh." He nodded quickly so there'd be no miscommunication.
Still grinning, Iris got to her feet, picked up the nearby chair and set it just behind him and then forced him down into it. She bent over and kissed his lips again, all passion and no hesitation, just like before. She unbuttoned his shirt as she did so and stripped him of it as soon as she had reached the hem.
Then she straddled his lap and kissed him again, delving her tongue into his mouth as she wound her fingers through his hair, driving him crazy with lust and desire and urgency.
"Irisss," he slurred, needing more of her, needing everything.
His hand settled on her ass, the sole part of her that was covered, and in response she ground herself against his dick, making them both cry out in pleasure.
This was so surreal – too surreal? He thought for a moment and then dismissed it. No way. This was too good, felt too real to be a dream. He couldn't remember a dream ever being this good.
"You feel so damn good, Barry," she moaned as she ground harder, gasping when his hand squeezed her ass and forced her to move faster.
He could do nothing but breathe and wait for her to initiate the final step.
"I want you to cum inside me," she said, her lips brushing his sweaty neck.
He halted his movements, and so did she.
"What?" he asked – no squeak, just genuine uncertainty.
"I'm on the pill," she said, pulling back just a little to look at him. "Don't worry."
His brain started to short circuit. She was on the pill? Did that mean she was seeing someone? Sleeping with someone? Was she cheating on that person with him now? Shouldn't he feel much more concerned about that? That was a bad thing. It was bad – right?
But Iris didn't let him come to any solid conclusions. Instead, she set her feet on the floor, got back up and backed away enough to slip her fingers beneath her waistband and drag her silky underwear to the floor.
Then she came back to him and held herself in mid-air, just above where his erection stood at attention, waiting for her.
"Don't worry, Barry," she whispered, her lips inches from his mouth. "You won't get me pregnant."
And then she was lowering herself onto him, and they were both groaning until the moment he reached the very hilt of her core.
Then they waited, adjusting – which was not something that was necessary in a dream, right?
And then she moved.
She raised herself up and then down again. She alternated between the rise and fall and the grinding against him. Her moist forehead pressed to his, her murmurs of his name, the heavy breathing between both of them, Barry couldn't remember feeling more alive or more totally and completely so overwhelmed.
Her skin was soft and slick. Her ass felt good in his hands and her breasts tasted amazing in his mouth. Her hair brushing his skin both tickled and caressed. Her thighs gripping his nearly sent him into oblivion every time they squeezed with her rise and fall. The pressure was amazing.
And then he heard it – ding!
The first time it was just background noise, drowned out by the essence of Iris and what they were doing.
The second and third time nearly came in unison.
By time number four through ten, Barry had to force his eyes open because it was loud and annoying, and in the back of his mind it alerted him to danger.
He wished he hadn't. More than anything on this earth, he wished he hadn't.
Because when his eyes opened he found himself sitting on the chair at his desk, the only proof of his encounter with Iris the uncomfortable bulge in his pants and the sweat dripping down the back of his neck and forming on his forehead.
His arm – the source of the sound – had been pressed hard into the keyboard and had been starting and stopping the tests he'd been waiting on to finish for nearly an hour now. He lifted it quickly, but the damage had been done. Too many commands had been accidentally entered. The computer froze, not answering to any keyboard or mouse functions he tried.
It was no use. He had to reboot the computer and start over.
In the minute or two it took to reboot the system and re-start the tests, Barry heard a ping from his phone. A text.
From Iris.
Forcing himself to think past the wet dream he'd just had of her, he opened the message.
Turns out a full shift equals a lunch break! Want me to come by?
He laughed and groaned simultaneously, dragging a hand down his face before responding.
Nah, that's okay. Come by later.
Her sad face emoticon, followed by a you sure? was almost enough to change his mind, but one glance back to the bulge in his pants firmly kept his decision grounded.
Yep. I'll see you later.
It was a full minute until she responded again, and he worried he'd hurt her feelings.
He needn't have worried.
Can't wait! :D
He draped a hand over his eyes and leaned back in his chair, deciding to respond to that later, if at all.
"Me either," he grumbled, his mind on the question of whether he could successfully make it to the bathroom to rid himself of blue balls without anyone seeing him.
She didn't tell you how she felt, he realized, thinking back to the beginning of his dream. She would've told you that.
He glanced over at his turned over phone and reached for it. After a moment's hesitation, he responded.
Me either. :)
Missed you came after he'd barely pressed send. He ignored the flashes of what had followed that sentiment in his dream.
Missed you too.
She sent a picture of her blowing a kiss to him from where she stood behind the counter at CC Jitters, a curious co-worker photobombing in the back.
His heart skipped a beat as it had earlier, a smile helplessly spreading across his face.
I love you.