Welcome back! So, mostly this chapter is porn, just putting that up front here, but there are some important moments in it. It's also a turning point in the Hal/Barry relationship, to slowly bring them towards something a little more than just allies who happen to fuck. XD Enjoy!
Warnings for this chapter include: Implied/Referenced extremely dubious consent, graphic sex, inappropriate usage of super powers, slight Dom/Sub themes, and restraints.
The first thing Hal does once we're inside 'our' room is shove me forward with a hand at the back of my shoulder, kicking the door closed with one foot as I whip around and recover. He's got a thin snarl on his face, and I meet it with a grin as I face him. I'm not going to slam him up against the wall, not yet. Let's see what he's got in mind before I take him down too fast.
He steps forward and reaches for me with both hands, shoving my hood and goggles away from my face and then tunneling his hands through my hair. I let him pull me up against him, and it's kind of a nice surprise how much passion there is in his kiss; how hard it is and full of just-leashed violence. He's not backing down just because I could lay him out with a single punch.
Good.
I push up into him, angling myself not to press against his injured side, and raising one hand to curl around the back of his neck. He's all teeth, tongue, and just a hint of blood, and it's familiar and amazing enough to make me interested. To force me to feel all of that desire that always blindsides me with him. I mean, he's a good fuck, but worth how much I crave him? I'm not sure about that.
His left hand slides down the side of my neck, finding the hidden zipper at the hollow of my throat and wrenching it down almost all the way to my stomach. I can hear the distinctive sound of his ring activating, but instead of jerking back to see what he's doing I just stay in the press of his mouth and the feeling of his hand in my hair. So when bare fingertips touch my chest, stroking up with just enough nail to be a threat, it's a good surprise.
I make a mocking sound of approval, dragging him a little harder down and sliding my free hand around his waist to reach down and grip his ass. Half just to feel it in my hand, but also to pull him in so I can grind into his hip. He makes a small noise into my mouth, something restrained but clearly of enjoyment, and meets every bit of my push. His grip is hard, his bare hand warm and exploring with intent along the slice of my skin that's exposed.
His ring activates again — it's right next to my ear, I pretty much can't miss it — but nothing catches my attention until he pulls away a little bit, with a parting bite to my lip, and I flick my eyes open to watch him. They immediately get caught by brown eyes looking back at me, with desire, wariness, anger, jealousy, and something dark that I don't really understand. I really wish I did.
"Don't go to him," he demands, but it sounds like a warning, a plea.
I blink, surprised. Hal reacted fast to Owlman's implied offer, almost instantly, but I thought it was pride. Some kind of show of Hal needing to prove he could still match me even while he's injured. I mean, I hadn't really considered it except maybe as a last resort, but…
"Why do you care who I fuck, Lantern?" I ask bluntly, and he sneers, snarls, and then jerks his gaze away and down for a second before meeting my look again.
"I don't," he snaps, defensively, "but not him. Damn you, Barry, don't you go to that jackass. Whatever the hell you want I can do, and you can damn well fuck anyone else you want, but I can't stomach the fucking thought of him touching you."
Anger follows right on the heels of jealousy, and I snarl and tighten my grip on the back of Hal's neck. "Like he did to you?" I hiss, and his eyes flicker wide for a second. "Why the hell did you let him touch you like that, Hal? What the hell is it about the Owl that makes you shut up and snap to heel?" A sneer that matches what he had curves my mouth, and I lower my voice to spit out, "You didn't say a damn thing to stop him, Hal, you let him walk all over you and practically molest you right in front of me! What the hell was that?!"
"What I do isn't any of your damn business," he snarls, one hand tightening in my hair and the other pressing flat against my chest.
"But what I do is yours? Give me one god damn reason I should listen to your hypocritical bullshit."
"He'll hurt you!" Hal yells, and then flinches back, eyes widening. He tries to push me away but I dig my gloves in and hold tight, and there's something awful and dark in his eyes but I don't know what it is. I can't tell.
"What the hell are you talking about? Hurt me? You hurt me all the time, Lantern, that's not so different." Surface things; bites and bruises, but they still hurt.
"It's not the same." It's defensive, and Hal's hand flexes in my hair, his head ducking away from looking at me. I can still see his eyes, barely, but most of his face is hidden by the angle. "He'll hurt you, and he'll mock and laugh, and you'll think it was your choice right up to the end but it's not. It's not."
That sounds pretty uncomfortably close to rape, and I might be a murderer and a thief, but that's a line I don't cross. Not ever. Hal has wanted me every damn time we've slept together, and we might play rough and sometimes even mean, but I've never hated something he's done to me enough to make him stop. I've never regretted anything that happens between us. Did the Owl…?
"He's fucked you," I say, and the only reason I see the tension in his shoulders and the tiny flinch is because I'm looking for it.
Hal looks up at me, wary and uncomfortable, and grudgingly spits out, "Yeah."
'When?' is my first question, but I swallow it back — and the one that instantly follows, 'Why?' — and move on to considering the actual important question. The one that drifted across my mind once, and then returned to latch itself into my conscious like the bite of teeth.
"What the hell did he do to you?" If Hal's actually subdued, and not just pissed off, it had to be bad. If the thought makes him flinch it had to be vicious. But I don't remember there being a time when he was down and out for injuries that weren't from a battle, and never anything bad enough to make him react like this. Pain is just pain to people like us, anyway.
Hal's teeth bare, and the grip in my hair turns painful, threatening. "It's not any of your fucking business," he snarls, deadly and serious, and then swallows, loosens his grip, and looks down to repeat, "Don't go to him, Barry."
I consider him — the downward direction of his gaze, not willing to meet my eyes; the tension in his shoulders, the pain; and the clenched jaw and tight line of his mouth — and then offer, "That's a two-way street, Hal." He looks back up, confused, and I squeeze the back of his neck before I speak. "If you don't let him touch you, then I won't let him touch me. Deal?"
It's relief that sparks sharply in his eyes, and he instantly answers, "Deal."
"I'm going to hold you to that," I tell him. "I haven't thought of it yet, but I've got a lot of free time, so you're not going to like whatever I decide on doing if you go back on your word and I have to step in. Got it?" Because there's something sick and twisting in my stomach at Hal's reaction, at his insistence that I not go to Owlman, and his refusal to talk about it. Something happened there, something bad, and now the thought of him touching Hal doesn't just make me jealous and angry, it makes me a little sick.
I don't like the way Hal made whatever it was sound.
He shifts his head in a nod, and leans into me. The press of his mouth is softer now, more the warm flick of his tongue than the sharp sting of his teeth, and it's different but I don't really mind. I'm not sure I really want violence right now, not after… I don't know what the Owl did to him, or how similar what I've done to him is. I hope nothing I've done has ever made him think of whatever Owlman did.
The hand on my chest rises to cup the side of my face, and his mouth slips away from mine a moment later. Not far though, just to my jaw, where he pauses to draw my skin into his mouth to suck. Not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark that might stick around for a few minutes. I groan and tilt my head back, baring my throat as he makes a trail down the edge of my jaw and down my neck.
"So," I breathe out, "no bullshit. Are you actually capable of fucking? 'Cause I'm going to be really pissed if you aren't."
He snorts, bites down a little bit, and then admits, "Maybe. Been thinking about it."
"Share," I demand, and he draws back and pulls my head down, a thin smirk on his face.
"Ride me?" It sounds more like a challenge than a request, which is just great as far as I'm concerned.
"Sounds good to me," I say with a grin, and then a laugh. "But you're going to have to specify how, because you give me a choice and I'm going to fuck you, Lantern." Or, I would. If I'd been asked an hour ago I would have said I'd choose to fuck Hal, without hesitation, but now? I'm not sure if he can take enough for it to be really good; I've been trying to think of how the repeat motion of fucking — either way — will affect him.
I think, it's the actual impact that'll screw him up. Which is probably why he's suggesting what he is. If I'm riding him, my weight's going down, and he's not forced to compensate for any back and forth movement. It's the safest choice, and it'll still be a lot of fun so who cares? This is a test run anyway. Once we know he can take at least this, we can get around to experimentation.
His hand tightens in my hair and drags my head up, so he can get his mouth back to my neck. Normally I make him pay for this, but he's not really biting, it doesn't hurt, and it feels good enough that I haven't got any kind of desire to make him stop. Especially not when the hand not buried in my hair slides back down my throat to my chest.
"I want you in my lap, Quick," Hal says against my skin, "fucking yourself on me so I can have my hands free and touch whatever I want to. That good enough for you?"
Yes, but I only let, "I can make it work," out of my mouth. No sense in giving Hal any more fuel for his ego; he's got enough of that as it is.
His hand pushes my suit back off one shoulder, then the other, and I let go of him just long enough to yank my arms out of the confinement and let it fall to hang around my waist. Hal shudders when my hand returns to the back of his neck, grazing my nails across what little skin isn't covered by the high collar of his suit, but not raking like I could. No blood, not right now.
My other hand finds the right, uninjured side of his chest and strokes up, trying to feel his muscle through the suit. It sort of works, but mostly it gets me a forward push of Hal's hips, which is way better for all parts involved. His hand slides around my back, up along my spine, and drags me closer. I get out a laugh that might be a bit breathless, leaning into the hot press of his mouth and the graze of his teeth.
"At some point we're going to have to get across the room." As interesting as fucking on the floor is — been there, done that — it's not comfortable for anyone. Cement's hard, and I'd bet it'll be straight-up painful for him with those ribs. Walls are a little better, but right now that sounds like an even worse idea. No support on walls.
Hal makes some kind of agreeing noise, and slowly pulls away from my neck as he lets go with both hands and slides them both to rest on either side of my waist. His mouth meets mine as I pull my head down, but just for a moment before he draws back. Regretfully, I let him go too, but completely, not just with my hands on his waist. Not an area I want to touch with his injuries, at least not on the left, or with any force.
It's probably the simplest way we've ever gotten onto the bed. Usually it's Hal throwing me, or me shoving Hal, or some kind of trip over the edge and fall and there's no way to know who's going to end up on top. Just walking over, with Hal at my back, is a totally new experience. He catches me at the edge of it, sliding both hands around my upper arms to pull me to a stop. His mouth at the back of my neck is new too; not bad, just new. I've left with imprints of teeth back there before, but just the heat and suction of his mouth is a little gentle for his usual taste.
Or maybe he was always just mimicking how I approached him. I honestly don't remember which of us started this.
I lower my head to give him more room, flexing against his grip and bringing my hands back to stroke up his thighs. I think I like this. Not just that it doesn't hurt, or that I've got all the power right now, but I genuinely like the feeling. Hal can do rough really well, and fucking him is damn good, but I like this too. It's still nothing like sex with Iris, not at all, but I guess that doesn't have to mean that every inch and moment has to be bloody or painful to one or both of us. I guess it can just be… different.
I squeeze my hands down on his thighs, and feel the answering squeeze of his hands on my arms before he lets go. His right arm slides around my waist, hand coming down to hook at the edge of where my suit's hanging, and his left slides up to rake through my hair and get a decent grip. He holds my head down for a moment before pulling it back, his mouth pressing against my ear.
"Take this off," he says, in what's not quite a demand, tugging at the edge of my suit and bringing it down off one of my hips so he can run his gloved fingertips over it. His left hand is bare, and I can feel the warmth of his skin against my scalp, but his right still has the glove.
"You first," I challenge, dragging my fingers up the front of his thighs and leaning into the arch he's forced me into.
I hear his ring activate, and I expect green energy jerking my suit down or wrapping around my throat to hold me, but instead the barrier of his suit vanishes, and suddenly my back and my hands are pressed against skin instead. It's not totally unheard of for Hal to strip down first, but usually he waits for me to demand it, and I don't usually have the patience to still be clothed at that point. Not unheard of, but rare.
I make a noise of mocking appreciation, just barely digging my nails into his legs as I stroke up and then back down what I can reach without any awkward angles or stretching. His breath catches when I press back against him, and I can feel the restrained shudder that slides up his spine.
"Fair's fair," he almost snarls, voice dark and low, and my mouth curves in a grin.
With him so close, any attempt at vibrating out of it is probably going to feel really unpleasant to him — it's good if you use it right, but too much or in the wrong way can be painful or uncomfortable — so I let go of his legs and bring my hands forward to hook at the fold of where my suit's hanging — at my hip on one side, and high on my thigh on the other. I do use a bit of speed to get it down my legs, and then more to get past the awkward bit of getting the built-in boots off my feet, before kicking it off to the side.
It's Lantern's turn to make the appreciative noise, and he releases his grip in my hair to slide his arm down and around my waist. My neck stays in the arch, because he unerringly reaches right for the most important parts, wrapping his fingers around me with practiced skill. His teeth graze across the side of my throat, his other hand wrapping around my hip to hold me still for the strokes. I grip his biceps to stop myself from grabbing for his side in a moment of stupidity, lean back into him a little bit, and enjoy.
He's hard against me, I can feel it, and it's not the same too-tight grip that leaves bruises behind — that's a good thing — but there's still strength in both grips. None of it is cautious, or hesitant, and it's a damn good thing that even if he's hurt, he's not weak in here. Hal being interesting or not, if he couldn't hold my attention that would be that. I don't waste my time on things that don't keep me entertained; I would have found someone else to fuck until he was better.
I still might, depending on how the rest of this plays out.
Hal lets me feel it for a bit, enough to wind me into the higher levels of arousal, before letting go. "On the bed," he orders, pulling his hand back to push at my lower back.
I turn around just long enough to flash him a grin before letting myself fall back on the bed. It's not the softest, and it's not the biggest, but it's sturdy and it's big enough to work. No need for anything fancy when what we have will work; there's no point in it being anything better than good enough to fuck on, and it's already that.
I get caught again for a few seconds, just looking at his eyes, as he moves in over me. He kneels between my legs, hands warm on the inside of my knees as he pushes me open to fit between my thighs. The only difference is the slight texture of his ring, which my gaze gets drawn to as it activates and glows, energy flowing out from it. I follow the path of the green energy to the upper corner of the bed, the one against the wall, and keep my gaze on it as it reaches underneath the corner of the mattress to retrieve the stash of lube and condoms.
His makeshift hand drops the strip of wrappers off to the side, and then the bottle in Hal's right hand. I follow the line of his arm up, linger a second on the white of the wrap around his lower chest, and then meet his gaze. He smirks — totally different from the Owl's, and totally different than mine; Hal's is dark — and leans down to set his teeth against the inside of my knee, tongue slipping between his lips to tease the sensitive skin there.
I draw in a sharp breath, resisting the urge to close my legs in on his sides because I don't really want him keeling over from pain. I stretch my right leg out to lie flat, just to make sure I don't do it by accident, and push up on my elbows to… I'm not sure, but I know I want to be up here.
Hal grazes his teeth across my skin, flashes a smirk up at me, and presses the bottle of lube to my hip. "Put on a show for me, Barry?" he says, almost sounding like a threat.
"I thought we didn't do shows," I counter, even though I'm pretty much never opposed to fucking myself. Vibrations are great, and I know my own body better than anyone else. Still doesn't mean I'm just going to give it to him without making him work for it.
"I remember saying I didn't do shows; you didn't answer." He gives a small sneer that's half a smirk, eyes narrowing in challenge but so alive with lust it feels more like it's fake than real, even though I know he means every bit of it. "Come on, Quick. You love showing off."
"You love watching," I snap back, grinning.
"So we both win."
I push up far enough on one arm to reach in and get a handful of his hair with the other, dragging his head up a little bit. "Make a deal with me, Lantern," I challenge. He swallows, leans into my grip for a fraction of a second before catching himself, and then strokes his free hand down the inside of my right thigh.
"What do you want?" he asks, sounding just a little strained. The tone makes me flick my gaze to his torso to make sure I'm not holding him at a bad angle, before deciding the strain in his voice is just desire.
I consider it, consider what he wants me to do, consider him, and then give him a wicked grin and pull him in as I push up, meeting him more than halfway up in a kiss. He meets it wholeheartedly, free hand squeezing down high on my thigh as he makes a small noise that I'd label as a groan. I tighten my grip in his hair and make a sharply approving noise, pushing my tongue between his teeth and fucking his mouth, taking full advantage. I get another pleased groan for my trouble, and pull him away from the kiss by his hair, flicking my eyes open.
"I want you to sit up against the wall," I tell him, as his eyes open to look at me, "as I put on that show, and you won't get to touch me, or yourself. I want you to put your hands behind your neck and hold them there until I'm good and ready to fuck myself on more than just my fingers. I want you to do nothing but watch until I climb over your lap and sink down on you, Hal."
"Fuck," Hal spits, eyes a little wider than normal, a little stunned. I laugh.
"That sound good to you, Lantern? Sound like a deal?"
"Deal," he gets out, eyes closing for a second as his mouth parts a little bit, in a shaky exhale. "Jesus, Barry."
"Go sit down," I order, letting go of his hair so I can reach down and take the bottle of lube from his hand. He lets it go, and his eyes are dark and lustful when he looks back up at me.
He moves — carefully, but confident — and I shift with him, turning as he slides around me and presses his back up against the cement wall at the head of the bed. His legs are stretched out, and my mouth goes dry when he lifts both arms and links them behind his neck, fingers wrapping around their opposite wrist. I let my gaze drop, for a second, to the spread of his legs, the jut of his cock, and the slight hint of darkness behind that. Then I flash him a grin, shifting close enough that I can take both my legs and hook my calves over his thighs. His jaw clenches, but he doesn't say anything to stop me.
I uncap the bottle, slicking the fingers on my right hand with the ease of practice before clicking the bottle shut again and tossing it to the side. I let myself lean back, my left arm coming up to cushion my own head as I feed my right back and underneath me, lifting my ass off the bed enough to get my hand past it.
Hal's gaze is glued down, and satisfied that my show is getting the attention I bargained for, I close my eyes and tilt my head back. The first finger is familiar, easy, and I can feel Hal's thighs clench underneath the press of my calves but he still doesn't say anything. It's tempting to work myself to an orgasm just like this, I know I could, but I let the idea go after a second's thought. That would be a little cruel, and I don't feel the need to be cruel to Hal right now. Not when he can't do the same to me, or take any kind of revenge.
So I avoid my prostate, just enjoying the sensation and the manipulation of the sensitive nerves around the rim as I add a second finger, and then finally a third. When I want more, and not a second sooner. I can hear Hal breathing hard, fast, but I don't open my eyes to look. I do let out the noises that want to come, twisting the fingers of my free hand in the sheets of the bed and allowing my neck to arch and my hips to press back towards my hand.
When the desire, the need, for something larger and decidedly stiffer is finally too much, I open my eyes and look down at Hal.
His bottom lip is between his teeth, clenched nearly to the point of making himself bleed — I already bit that earlier, it has to hurt — and his pupils are blown wide in desire. It's a hell of a shot of pride, and gives me my own lightning spike of arousal. I want him now.
I slip into the speed force almost automatically, pulling my fingers from myself and reaching for the strip of condoms. It's easy to pull one open, and I force myself to slow down as I push up and reach for him. He jerks sharply — and then grimaces — when I roll the condom down over him, but meets my gaze with more than enough desire to make me ignore the moment of pain. I lever myself up, putting my knees to either side of his hips, wrap my hand around him, brace the other on his shoulder, and line it up right to sink down onto him.
I throw my head back at the feeling, and revel in both it and Hal's sharp cry. Hal, as always, is just right. Not the too thick or too long of some guys, but enough to satisfy and fill me. I love it.
I can feel him shift, and then one of his hands is wrapping around the base of my neck and dragging me up, and the other is lowering to squeeze my thigh hard enough that it might bruise, if I were anyone else. I meet the press of his lips and tongue, enjoying the aggression and passion in his touch, in the way the hand on my thigh slides up and wraps back around my hip, digging fingers into my ass. I press my legs into his hips, moaning into his mouth, and he echoes it with a moan of his own.
He says what I think is, "Fuck, Barry, god," into the press of our mouths, not pulling away enough to make himself understandable, and I reach up and tunnel both my hands into his hair. His nails dig into the back of my neck, my ass, and he makes another noise into my mouth that sounds desperate.
It drives a sharp, breathless sound of pleasure from me, and I let go of his hair to brace both of my hands on the wall to either side of his head. I need the leverage, and I don't want to rest my weight on Hal's shoulders and risk ending this prematurely with a stupid mistake.
He's holding my mouth to his — and the roll of his tongue is demanding and just perfect — and I try to keep it that way, lifting and rolling my hips to push back down. He gasps, pulling away just to tilt his head back against the wall, throat arching. I do it again, but I can't resist the arch of his throat either. I lean in as I set up a rhythm, setting my teeth against his shoulder and drawing the flesh into my mouth, sucking hard enough to break blood vessels and make it bruise. The sound he makes, that I don't even know what to call, says he definitely likes it.
I fuck myself on him, slow — for me — and with a complete rise and fall each time, only barely guided by the grip of the hand on my ass. Mostly, Hal is just letting me do what I want to, and that's a power trip that lights fire in my blood and makes me fight back the urge to turn this hard and fast, or angle myself a bit better to nail my own prostate. I don't want to end this quickly, and as long as I avoid doing this just right, and don't lower a hand to myself, I could even last as long as he does.
I can have an orgasm without touching myself, I've experimented and confirmed that, but it takes a while, and it definitely needs more than just the sensation and feeling of a cock or fingers in me. They have to actually be aimed the right way too.
Hal's hand lets go of my neck and pulls far enough back between us that he can loop it under my arm and get it around my waist. His palm strokes up the length of my spine, and with my mouth somewhere between his shoulder and his neck I can feel the rumbling vibration of the moan that he lets out of his chest and into the air. I barely hold back echoing it, but I roll my hips a little harder and clench my right hand instead, arching underneath the press of his hand to my back.
"Barry," Hal gasps, nails digging into the skin between my shoulder blades for a second. "God, that's so good."
"Hurt?" I manage to ask, and he makes a choked little noise that I think might have been some attempt at a laugh.
"Some." His hand strokes back down my back, with just enough nail behind it to feel good without actually scratching. I'd heal, but that's not the point. "Don't care." His head drags down, his tongue and mouth finding my throat and grazing down it, finding a spot at the curve of my shoulder to make his own mark. I try to keep my torso mostly still and confine my rise and fall to my legs and hips, so I don't bash him in the face.
What I can't contain, he handles.
I shudder, the speed force flaring in my veins and turning it into a sharp vibration, the world slowing around me for a moment. I shut it away again, and everything snaps back to motion as I drag in a breath and Hal cries out against my shoulder. I can feel him throb inside of me, but not enough to come, not quite yet. I know what that feels like, I know every second of the warning signs, every pattern of breath. I've let the speed force run wild just to watch him fall apart in slow motion, and god it was amazing.
I arch my neck for a second, shifting my weight to let myself brace on just my left hand so I can pull my right off the wall. I drag it down and grab a handful of Hal's hair, tugging upwards to get him to let go of my shoulder, so I can kiss him. Hard, hot, our tongues meeting somewhere in the middle because we're both too wound up in passion to sit back and let the other person fuck our mouth with no real fight. He wants in me, and I want in him, and so we hit each other in the middle and make do. It might even be better.
I can hear and feel his breathing catch, feel his hand flex on my ass and his hips lift up a bit to meet mine on the downwards fall. Which changes the angle, and I arch and break the kiss to give a startled, "Ahn!" into the air at the sharp pleasure that's almost too much, too quickly.
No. He's so close, I can feel it, and I'm not going to come just a little too fast for him to get off too, not when it's probably a bad idea for him to flip me around and fuck me the way he obviously really wants to. Bad idea; I have to hold on.
I force myself to keep going, to weather the new angle the lifting of his hips creates, and bury my head down against his shoulder to try and hold on. He shudders, and I nearly shake in something far too worked up to be relief — anticipation, desire, need — as his nails dig into my back and then he shudders, breath catching again as his neck arches back against the wall.
He shouts, strained to the edge of breaking, and I slam my hips down on him and give up trying to hold back. My orgasm snaps from me as sharply as my control of the speed force, and I can see yellow lightning follow my movement as I bow into an arch, clenching down around Hal and crying out, my hand tightening in his hair.
To me, it feels like much longer than it is. Time stretches out around me and I shudder and vibrate my way through an orgasm that Hal will never understand the intensity of.
When it snaps back to normal speed Hal is just starting to ease a little bit, and I follow him down, resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to just fall forward onto him and call it a day. What a shit way to end things that would be. Instead I carefully brace my weight against my arm, and duck my head down to press against the side of his neck and breathe him in. His hand loosens on my ass, just resting there, and the other one slides up my back to hook his grip over the back of my shoulder and hold there. His head is tilted against the wall, and I let go of his hair and smooth my hand down his neck.
I'm the first to move, because I'm the first to recover. Hal always needs longer to catch his breath, and I imagine that's even more the case while he's injured like this.
I shift back, pulling away and gently rolling my shoulder to cue him to let go, which he does. He gives a deep, exhausted sounding moan when I raise myself off of him, and he slips out of me. As tempting as it is to just sit back down, I consider his injury for a second and then decide to play a little nicer than usual.
His eyes open to watch when I move away — though they're half-lidded and only sort of aware — and while I raise my right leg over his to stop fully straddling him, sliding it into the space between his legs. He inhales sharply when I reach forward and strip the condom off of him, but doesn't stop me, and I tie the end of it and grab just a bit of the speed force still humming underneath my skin — like a really satisfied, lounging cat — to get to the end of the bed and drop the condom into the metal wastebin near the corner of it.
I turn back to him, then move up to his right, uninjured side and press fairly close. "Come on," I prompt, "lie down."
He snorts, winces, and then sighs and nods, apparently reconsidering whatever he was thinking of arguing. He's more careful now, bracing his weight on his arms as he shifts down the bed and then leans back. I snag two pillows from where they inevitably always get piled into the bottom, wall-side corner, and tuck one underneath his head before he can get all the way down. The other I save for myself, but I wait until he's lying down flat on his back before I slide in next to him. My pillow goes beside his, and I loop my right leg over his and press up against his side, tucking my head on top of his shoulder.
He grumbles a little bit, but there's no actual words and it sounds half-hearted at best, so I ignore it. Maybe in a bit there will be more of this, but even I need a little bit of time to recover, Hal needs more, and I don't even know how much pain he might be in right now, or if he thinks it's worth it to do any more. I hope he does, or at least that it doesn't hurt enough to stop him, but I won't know unless he tells me.
His left hand reaches over and strokes through my hair, and I make a humming, pleased sound and close my eyes. It's an idle touch, a repetitive one, and if I were a little bit farther towards sleep it would probably put me under. As it is, I just let myself float on how good it feels.
There's no threat here.
Eventually, Hal shifts a bit and breaks the silence by asking, "Why did you defend me?" His voice is rough and tired, but serious, and I blink out of my haze enough to tilt my head up and meet his turned head and gaze.
"Defend you?" I echo. "When?"
"Back in the lab. Why'd you do that?" Oh, with the prime bastard himself. Owlman. "You gave him the wrong impression." Hal sounds a little grumpy, or maybe it's just his own special brand of resigned.
"You're overthinking things," I tell him bluntly. "I didn't like it, so I stopped it; that's all that happened, Hal. It barely had anything to do with you at all." Why I didn't like it is something I don't care to look at too closely, and he doesn't need to know whenever I do figure it out. "He's not dumb enough to read into things that aren't there; he's just a bastard."
"That's true." His voice is dry, and his fingers trace down over my jaw. I let my eyes close for another second, and tilt into the touch. The pads of his fingers are slightly rough, but not calloused enough to be unpleasantly abrasive. "So what, you don't like people touching me?" It's more of a mocking question than a curious one, but I open my eyes again and look back up at him.
"Do you see me snapping at your hero girlfriend?" I counter, and he tenses for a second before I continue. "Relax, Hal, I'm not going to turn possessive stalker on you. I just don't like seeing other people treat you like you're not dangerous." He stares at me, brown eyes widened a bit, and I narrow mine in answer. "What?"
"What the hell does that even mean?" he asks, fingers still on my jaw but stilled.
I push up, propping myself up on my elbow and looking down at him. "Exactly what I said." He doesn't seem to get it, and I scoff and bare my teeth at the memory, anger rising in my stomach. "He treated you like you were something he could jerk around and touch with no need to be cautious. Like you were harmless. I might be a jackass to you sometimes, Lantern, but I've never thought of you that way." I reach over and poke at his injured side, and he recoils and snarls at me. "Not even now. So yeah, it pisses me off to see people treat you like anything but the smart, powerful, dangerous man you are. Sue me for wanting other people to respect the man I let fuck me. You understand now, or do I have to dumb it down some more?"
He sneers at me, and then pauses and shakes his head, the tension easing out of his frame. "Alright, yeah. I get it. Careful, Quick; that was almost a compliment." His right arm stretches out along the pillow, giving me a convenient place to slip into, and I take advantage.
I lay back down, fitting my head onto the curve of his shoulder as I flash him a grin. "In your dreams, Lantern." His arm curls around my back, hand resting on my side, and I can feel the slightly abnormal heat of his ring pressing against my skin.
His other hand returns to my hair, and I ease into his side and close my eyes, enjoying the touch. Until he asks, "Are you going to find someone else?" I flick my eyes back open to look at him, and find him already gazing down at me, mouth set in a thin line and a scowl on his face. "I mean, I'm not... I can't... If you're going to I won't stop you. Not that I could." That's bitterness, and maybe something like jealousy, and definitely anger. Mostly aimed towards his own injury, I'm almost sure.
"I might," I allow. "Why should I stay? This was good and all," great, actually, but best not to feed Hal's already inflated ego, "but this is only going to stay interesting for so long. You got anything else?"
He makes a vaguely irritated noise, watches me for a few seconds, and then relaxes a little bit and gives a smirk, eyes narrowing in challenge. "Stupid question. Catch your breath yet, Quick?"
Interesting. I didn't think Hal had any tricks up his sleeves, not that didn't depend on him being strong anyway. What's he confident about that he can still do with injured ribs?
"Have you?" I counter, bringing my right arm up and bracing it against his right shoulder and the side of his chest to push myself up a bit. "You're the one who's having issues breathing, Lantern." Mean, sure, but whatever he's thought of is enough that my words don't even phase him.
"How about I just take that as a 'yes'?" he says through that smirk, and I twitch when I hear his ring activate. I start to look back, but his hand clenches in my hair and drags my neck into an arch, and my support gets wrenched out from under me when bands of green energy wrap around my wrists and drag them to the small of my back.
I flex, twist my wrists against the binding to see what kind of concentration he's putting into it, and it stays solid. Not bad.
I grin, twisting my weight to brace my shoulder to hold my torso up, so I'm not held up by just his grip in my hair. "Restraints? Fun, but we both know you can't hold them through a fuck, Lantern. Too much distraction." His smirk doesn't waver, and now I'm really curious. Not even Lantern can hold me if I really want out, and there's always the option of vibrating my way through his bonds if I have to. What does he think he's going to do to convince me to stick around?
His fingers loosen in my hair, smoothing over my scalp and then back over my neck. "Forgetting something, Quick?" he mocks, and my grin fades to a snarl for a second. "You think I'm just going to hold you down until I get around to being hard again?" he says, and then pushes himself up and away from me, snagging the pillow from beneath my head so he can shove it behind his shoulders and be a little propped up against the wall. Not much, but enough that my head is resting at his upper chest, and he's looking down at me.
Through all of it, the energy stays solid around my wrists. I test it again, pulling a little harder, dragging my legs under me for leverage. His ring whines a little louder, and another rope of energy winds around my right thigh and drags it up with that inescapable strength that's always behind his constructs. He pulls it high, up between his legs, and then lets go of my neck and reaches down with his left hand. He wraps it underneath my knee, holding my leg up as the construct disintegrates. I could pull away, but I choose not to for now.
I'm more curious than worried. So far.
It's been long enough, and this is interesting, so I push my hips forward against the bed and his thigh, and flash him a grin. "Come on, Lantern. Do something before I break these," I pull hard at the bonds, "and see how well you take getting fucked with those injuries."
His right hand rakes into my hair, gripping tight as his smirk widens, showing teeth. "Oh don't worry about that, Quick. You've never seen this trick before."
I hear his ring, but his hand keeps my head facing towards his chest and blind to whatever he's doing. The first touch is to my hip — the solid, smooth heat of his construct — and then slides around the back of my thigh to way more interesting things. Is he seriously about to— god.
I don't think I'd ever considered Hal using his constructs as toys to use on a partner, but I really should have. The intrusion isn't big, but it's long, and presses smoothly inwards through the leftover traces of lubrication. I tense, flicking my eyes closed for a second, and he laughs. It's a little strained, cuts off, but the flex and press of his fingers against my scalp is steady.
I guess I never considered because I always knew that Hal couldn't hold a construct through a round of sex, that kind of kills any chance of using it for anything real. But with him already satisfied, and with the pain sharpening his focus — he told me once that all Green Lanterns are taught to use pain as a focus for willpower — it's totally viable. Oh fuck, I can only imagine the kind of things he can do with this, if he's got enough concentration to keep up multiple constructs at the same time.
I open my mouth to taunt him, ask if the slim thread is it, and like he somehow already knows my entire thought process it expands. I draw in a sharp breath, jerking against the cuffs of energy and pushing my hips forward, feeling myself swell. His fingers drag up in my hair, forcing my head down against his chest. The construct starts moving inside of me, like it's really some other guy at my back, and it tears a groan through my clenched teeth.
The fingers in my hair tug upwards. "You never seemed to need more than my cock, but I have so much more. This is the tiniest fraction of what I can do, Barry."
"Fun trick," I manage to get out, and damn him for knowing me so well, because each unyielding press in shoves against my prostate and drives the breath right out of me again. I arch, and his hand contracts on my leg, holding me partially still.
"That's what?" Hal says quietly, and I can hear the smirk in his voice, the satisfaction. "About the size of me?" Maybe a little smaller, but I grit my teeth and don't tell him that. "But you can take more than that, can't you?"
I get about half of a second to understand what he's saying before his reactions kick in, and I go rigid when the construct sheaths all — I think — the way in and then slowly expands farther. My breath comes sharp and fast, and I can feel myself stretching around it and jesus fuck. A shaking moan gets out of my throat and my hands clench, as I hold very still and try not to buck my hips forward. It keeps getting bigger.
"Christ, Hal," I finally groan, and like he was just pressing as far as I'd let him — more than possible; aggressive son of a bitch — it stops, staying still and constant inside me. I am really sure that's bigger than anyone I've taken before, and the list's not huge and neither were they, but none of them were exactly small.
I breathe shallowly, shuddering, and Hal's fingers let go of my hair and stroke over my scalp. It's soft, a counterpoint to the almost too much of his construct, and the still solid bind around my wrists. A particularly strong shudder shakes me — but the speed force is stubbornly deep inside me, and it doesn't turn into vibration — and the fingers on my thigh smooth in small circles, almost like it's supposed to be a comfort. The stranger part is that it actually helps me ease a little bit.
"Too much?" Hal asks, quietly, and I expect his tone to be mocking, or challenging, but it's not. I swallow, trying to think, trying to feel anything but the unforgiving press of the construct. "Come on, Barry, give me something."
"I—" But trying to speak tightens muscles, clenches me around the thing, and it presses harder up against my prostate. My eyelids flicker, and whatever I was going to say dies to the breathless cry as I arch, press hard against him. It falls into shudders as the moment of tension lets me out of the arch, and I force myself to gasp out, "Hal, I— god."
I don't think I can reach the speed force like this, I don't think I have the concentration to vibrate out of the energy around my wrists, and that's terrifying. It is too much, it's too intense, and I don't think Hal will hurt me but I can't stop him if he does. I'm trapped, he could do anything to me.
His ring whines, and the construct shrinks. Not all the way down, I can still feel the stretch, but enough that it backs off the edge of being too much, and I can drag in a deeper breath and try to stop the trembling of my shoulders. Try to get rid of the fear that's sharp in my chest.
"Easy." Hal's fingers are still stroking, still gentle, and it helps steady me a little bit. "Easy, Barry. Say the word and I'll cut this off right now."
I manage to catch my breath, and his words aren't said in condescension but it feels like it. "I can take it," I say, nearly snarling the words, and Hal's fingers close in my hair and drag my head up. His eyes are narrowed, watching carefully, and his fingers leave me to hold my own head up, tracing across my scalp.
"You're supposed to enjoy it, Quick, not just take it. It's supposed to get you to stay, you moron." His hand clenches down over my thigh, as I swallow and fight back more shuddering. "Talk to me, tell me what you want. Don't you dare take something you don't like just to keep your damn pride, speedster. I've fucked people who couldn't take half of what I just did to you without fainting."
"I can take it," I insist, hating the shudder that gets past my control and totally undermines my words.
"Not the point," he snarls at me. "You think I'm going to mock you for not liking this? Take your head out of your ass, Quick. Tell me what you want, you son of a bitch; I already know that you can take it."
"Damn you," I hiss, jerk, and then spit out, "I want my hands."
The ring makes its distinctive sound, and the construct around my wrists disappears. I immediately pull my arms forward, pushing one hand hard against his chest and curling the fingers of the other into the sheets. I roll my shoulders in, arching and considering how badly I can hurt Hal with just a single snap of my hand to his ribs.
It makes me feel better.
I let out a slow breath, flexing my grip in the sheets and lowering my head to close my eyes and breathe back in. Even if I can't concentrate enough to reach the speed force where it's decided — finicky bastard of a thing — to hide deep inside my veins, all it will take is a single punch to lay Hal out with his injuries. I can hit him once even without my speed, no problem. It won't matter how hard he pushes, or how much he makes me feel; I can hurt him.
"You going to tell me what it is you didn't like?"
I look back up, and then jerk the hand on his chest up to wrap around his throat. He flinches back, makes a startled sound that gets halfway out before he chokes it off, and his hand clenches in my hair and on my thigh. To his credit — but I always knew Hal had a ridiculous ability to concentrate, it's a requirement to be a Green Lantern — the construct buried in me stays constant.
"You can fuck me that hard or you can restrain me," I hiss at him, tightening my fingers around his throat. Not enough to hurt him, but enough to make it a threat. "You don't get to do both." He doesn't need to know why; not ever. He doesn't need to know that he can push me hard enough to make me — sometimes — lose my ability to access my speed.
It won't always be like that, but the speed force isn't a constant, it's a living thing, and sometimes it's harder to use than others. He doesn't need to know that either.
"Alright," Hal says, with just the smallest bit of strain. "I won't."
I let him go, dropping my hand down his throat to brace against his chest again. "So pick one, Lantern," I challenge.
I get my answer in a sneer, and the sharp swell of his construct back to how big it was. It's enough to make me arch and throw my head back, teeth gritting together, but it's not the same kind of overwhelming as it was when I couldn't dig my nails into his skin and vent the pleasure by shoving my other hand against the bed. I gasp, and then drop my head back down and force myself out of the arch and round my back.
Hal drags my head down, shoves my thigh down and away from him, and rolls towards me. His weight presses down against my side, his hand reaching across my waist and hooking to pull me onto my side, my back to his chest. I let him. For a second his other arm is wrapped around my throat, but he lets that go and draws it back, reestablishing his grip in my hair without the added pin. His left hand drags down my side to my top leg, and pulls it up to be nearly horizontal, forcing my hips mostly flat.
"You really think you can handle this, Quick?" he snarls, almost in my ear, and I flash a sharp grin that he might be able to see the corner of.
"Stalling, Lantern? Just fuck me, if you really think you can go hard enough to back that up." I'm pretty sure he can, but the challenge is half the dynamic between us. If I just fold over — which I won't — that'll disappoint him, and I would never let myself sink that low anyway. This has to be earned, it has to be won, and I don't let anyone just have me without a fight. Not even Hal.
His hand tugs at my hair, and I can feel his breath against my neck before his teeth come down on the side of it. The construct starts moving at the same time, and my hips jerk forwards against the bed, rubbing myself against the sheets. My moan is high pitched, and my right arm curls underneath my head, palm down so I can curl the fingers on both of my hands into the sheets to ground myself. It feels... god. I've played with a lot of things, attached to other people or not, but I know I've never had anything this big in me.
It stretches in a way that's utterly amazing, but just a little uncomfortable, just a little too much to be nothing but pleasure. It's unnaturally smooth, unyielding and rigid like it's metal, but hot like flesh. It's like nothing I've ever had in me before, and there's a tiny little part of me that knows I'm going to want this again. It's not the same, and it's not exactly better, but it's new and it's good. I'll want more.
Hal's mouth leaves my skin as his hand slides up my thigh, past my hip to my ass, and he pushes me down harder against the bed. My back rounds, a cry ripping its way out of my throat, and I can feel his fingers curl around the cheek of my ass and pull it to the side. It drags a shudder out of me.
His voice is low and dark, as he grazes his teeth across my ear and tells me, "That's about the size of my wrist." Jesus. I arch, pushing my head back as my neck curves. "I guess we know how much you can take, Barry. Maybe someday I'll work you open with my hand and fuck you with my real arm, so I can feel how tight it must be."
I'm not breathing enough to answer, not thinking enough to even get together what I'd say if I could. It does shake me, curl my fingers tight enough into the sheets to almost be painful, and that should ground me but it only makes all of it better, only works me higher.
"I'll make sure to take some videos, when it happens. Or just set up a mirror. You should see what this looks like." His fingers slide down from my ass to tease the skin stretched around his construct, and I can't help the jerk of my hips or the unintelligible shout that bursts out of my throat. "Stretched tight, loving it. I'm going to think about this every time I jack off for at least a month." His teeth sink into the side of my neck, a different spot, as his fingers trace around the edge of where his construct is shoving into me. Hard, fast, deep with every stroke and with insane aim.
His teeth pull back, and the tips of his fingers press against the edge like he's going to push them in beside his construct. "I'm going to imagine pushing something real into you that's this big, fucking you with it until you're shivering and exhausted. So you can't do anything but take it when I pull it out of you and sink my cock inside to replace it. Push my fingers in with it because just me won't be enough when you're that fucked open."
It's like I'm on edge, hooked on every word that comes out of his mouth and brushes against my ear, fire burning and raging in me but waiting, needing just a little—
The construct shoves home, punching the breath out of me, and he hisses, "Unless I decide to leave it in you and fuck your mouth instead, Quick."
More.
It feels like I arch tight enough that my back's about to snap, and I'm almost certain the noise that comes out of me is a scream. Hal's hand is tight in my hair, his construct moving with me and slamming into my prostate, and I can feel the heat and wetness as I spill into the bed beneath my hips. There's a rush of tingling up my arms and legs as the scream ends, then my vision tunnels, and I have just about enough instinct left to recognize what's happening before I black out completely.
When I come to there's heat around my back, and I'm pressed up against something warm that, when I pry my eyes open, I identify as Hal's chest. It's his arm draped around my back, holding me close, and the construct is significantly smaller but still in me. I think that's actually a good thing; I'm not sure being totally empty would be a good feeling right now. At least not to wake back up to.
I blink, stir, stretch a little bit on automatic to check that everything still works. It does, though I'm tired and a little bit shaky.
"Only about ten seconds," Hal says softly, answering the question I probably wouldn't have actually asked. "You alright?"
I force a small nod, and then drag myself together enough to say, "Yeah, 'm good." My voice comes out rough, sounding just as tired as I feel. I close my eyes again, dipping my head down to rest my forehead against the hollow of his throat, breathing slow and steadily against his skin.
The construct starts to slip from me, and I'm sensitive enough it pulls a jerk and a shudder from me. His hand flattens out between my shoulder blades, and he murmurs, "Easy, I've got you." I feel like I should be offended, but I can't summon the energy right now. It's like there's a blanket between me and the rest of my emotions and thoughts, and it should concern me but it's calming, easy, and I don't want to leave just yet.
His construct leaves me completely, and I make some kind of quiet noise that prompts him to press me a little closer to him, hand stroking down my back. The emptiness doesn't feel really comfortable, and there's definitely a part of me that misses the heat and solidness of his construct in me, but it's buried down with everything else that requires anything but instinct. I reach forward with my right hand, idly and blindly, until it touches his chest. I spread my fingers out across the skin and muscle underneath my hand, just leaving it there to feel him.
The blanket slowly lowers, allowing more to bleed through to my mind, as I breathe against Hal's chest. I'm in no rush, so I don't try and hurry it along. I enjoy the warmth and the bone-deep satisfaction humming through my veins, right next to the singing lightning of the speed force, which is back to being right beneath my skin and a breath away from letting me use it.
"If you're falling asleep, I want underneath the sheets." It sounds more matter-of-fact than teasing, but I shove a little bit at the chest underneath my hand as I huff out a breath.
"You're the one with a grip," I point out, lazily.
His hand slides down my back, and then slowly pulls back from my waist as he starts to shift away from me. I open my eyes to watch him pull back, closer towards the wall side of the bed, and drag the sheets down to slip underneath them. He moves a little cautiously, and the wrap around his waist, black bruises slipping out from the edges of it, wakes me up a bit more. He reaches over, above me, to snag a pillow and tuck it under his head, and then raises an eyebrow at me.
I manage to get together enough energy to push myself up and over to him, and slip beneath the several layers and up against his chest. His arm wraps back around my waist, hand pressing against my spine, and I reach up and tuck my top arm over his neck, curling my hand into his hair. Mostly so that I don't loop it over his injured side, but partially because his hair feels good between my fingers.
"You know," he starts, when I'm settled, "I've never heard you scream before." He sounds proud, satisfied, and I give a small snort.
"Ruin this feeling, and I will elbow you in the side, Lantern." I could do it gently. It would still hurt him, but it wouldn't snap anything.
He's silent for a good few seconds, and I almost think I'm going to be able to get to sleep, but then he asks, quietly, "Are you staying?"
I pause, trying to figure out what he's talking about, and then give another snort and flex my grip in his hair. "I'll stay; good enough. Now shut up, Hal. Let me sleep."