Barry's first encounter with Cold after receiving an unexpected hand job in the precinct involves two rooftops, a stone gargoyle, and the first time he's ever been eager to do anything and everything Cold tells him to.

Do you think anyone can see us from all the way up here?

"Okay, Cisco, have a good night," Barry signed off, before hearing the telltale click of the coms disconnecting from the S.T.A.R. Labs end.

He'd zipped up the side of one of the tallest buildings in the city to get a nice, clear view of the streets and any possible disturbances to finish out the night, but everything looked peaceful, nothing over the police radios that couldn't easily be handled by actual police, and frankly Barry was exhausted. The night's patrol had been grueling, but satisfying, and after taking a few minutes to relax, he planned to take a cue from Cisco and Caitlin and head home.

For now though he sat down sideways along the edge of the roof, back leaning against a stone gargoyle he had taken to calling Bruce, since it reminded him of the one Spider-man used to always have one-sided conversations with in the 90s cartoon. Barry was totally allowed to love another superhero in red. He never understood why the web-slinger named the gargoyle Bruce though.

"Not too shabby of a city, eh, Bruce?" Barry said.

The night was cool but still pleasantly warm for Fall weather, the night sky clear, the sounds of the city lulling him into a pleasant near-doze on the rooftop. He even closed his eyes a moment when he heard a sudden flicker of static over the coms. He hadn't turned them off on his end yet.

"Really, Cisco, what is it?" Barry said, barely peeking out again at the city. "I am so ready to hit the nearest mattress."

"That an invitation?"

Barry gripped the edges of the roof, nearly toppling off the narrow ledge in alarm. "Cold?! How did you—"

"Hartley Rathaway is rather handy, it turns out. And apparently quite eager to infiltrate any systems managed by our dear Cisco. Seems we're all alone, Flash."

A flutter of nerves stirred in Barry's stomach. He hadn't seen Cold since their encounter at the precinct. He still couldn't believe he'd allowed Cold to touch him, let alone allowed such intimate skin on skin contact in a crowded room of his coworkers. The memory of Cold's hand on him had kept him company though, and pleasantly occupied for several nights the past few weeks.

Barry relaxed against Bruce, still looking to his left out at the city beyond. "What do you want, Cold? Yeah, we're alone. Cisco and Caitlin signed off for the night."

"Not exactly what I meant."

Barry frowned. The sudden feeling of being watched crept over him and he turned his head, his attention finally facing the direction of his body.

Captain Cold stood at the ledge of the next building over, fully decked out in his gear, though his hood was back, his goggles pulled down around his neck, the cold gun nowhere in sight, though likely clipped to the inside of his parka. He waved at Barry with a curl of his gloved fingers, smirk firmly in place.

The buildings were only three to four meters apart, enough for a narrow alley to exist below, though the drop was still significant, and jumping across would require some nerves of steel. Not that Barry wasn't more than capable with his speed.

He stared in shock at how Cold had managed to sneak up on him, right in his line of sight if only he'd been looking forward instead of out at the city beyond Bruce's watchful stare.

"So now I have to worry about you infringing on my favorite perches too?" Barry said, deciding to let his nerves about seeing Cold again fade into amusement rather than anxiety. At least until the other man reached for his gun.

"Happened to be in the building when I decided to try out Piper's new gadget," Cold said in a low enough voice that Barry only heard him over the coms, not from across the building, even though they were quite close. "Cuts into the signal but also tracks it. So I followed it up. Thought you were on this roof, not one over."

"Disappointed?" Barry challenged. "You don't look ready for a fight."

"Who said I was looking to fight tonight, Barry?" He made a point to drift his gaze slowly down the length of Barry's body, stretched out as it was along the ledge of the other roof, feet sprawled forward, back propped against Bruce.

Barry shuddered under that familiar stare. He should put an end to this now. Tell Cold off, tell him it was never happening again, and zip away. But even just the thought of Cold's touch, in public like that while still in secret, shot a little thrill through him. He made a point to spread his legs just slightly, but didn't respond.

Cold rumbled over the coms with a husky chuckle. "You do owe me one, Flash."

"If I agreed with that…what would you want?"

"What do you think?"

Heat climbed slowly up Barry's neck, his suit suddenly feeling tight and constricting. "Did you…want me to come over there?"

"No, Barry," Cold's voice went lower, a whisper meant only for him, even if there was no one else around to hear anyway. "I want you to come right where you are."

Shit.

Barry was hard just from that, from the sound of Cold's voice and the promises of what he was asking for. Barry resisted the urge to touch himself now through the suit, but didn't try to hide the way the fabric between his legs started to strain.

Cold looked right at that telling sign, at how hard Barry was growing from nothing more than his intense gaze and teasing words, then flicked his eyes to Barry's face. "I am going to tell you what to do, and I expect you to follow my instructions exactly."

Barry choked back a whimper. How was he this turned on already? "Or what?" he asked, almost adding 'you'll punish me?'. Fuck, he wondered how Cold would punish him…

Cold drew the gun from out of his parka.

Barry laughed, knowing by the way Cold grinned and didn't aim the weapon at him directly that he was mostly bluffing.

"And just think, if I'm here, I can't be out stealing anything tonight, now, can I?"

"I suppose that's true," Barry said, just tired enough to be compliant. He shifted his hips, let his legs drop open another inch. "What do you want me to do?"

"Stay just like that." Cold placed his gun on the ledge in plain view. "Take off your gloves. Then start to unzip the suit. Slowly. Don't do anything more unless I tell you to."

A pulse shot down Barry's body to his groin. This was a terrible (wonderful) idea. He couldn't seem to say no. Cold was alone, and Barry would know if he tried to go for the gun. They were even on separate rooftops. There was no threat, no danger.

Barry removed his gloves, dropped them down onto the roof, and reached for the zipper of the suit up at his neck. Slowly, which was a difficult concept for him most days, he drew it down inch by inch, hesitating when he got to his navel.

"Do you think anyone can see us from all the way up here?"

"Anything is possible, Scarlet. You can keep the mask on."

Barry swallowed, kept his eyes on Cold across from him, rapt with attention on what Barry was doing, and kept unzipping. He paused as he got to the belt and could go no further.

"Take it off. Show me how far that zipper goes."

Barry nodded, undoing the belt so he could bring the zipper all the way down, spanning the length of a normal fly on a pair of pants. His cock was still trapped within the confines of the not-leather, but it was obvious he had nothing else on underneath.

"No underwear, Barry?" Cold asked with a crook to his grin. He stood at the end of the other roof, all of him visible from the waist up, the cold gun a good foot to his right.

Barry bit his lip, shook his head. Underwear didn't work well with the suit. He wanted to pull himself out, felt pained by the pressure now, how hard he was, how much he needed to be free, to be touched, but Cold hadn't given him an order to do that yet. His mind buzzed with all the things Cold might ask of him, and the last thing he wanted was to interrupt that.

"You want to touch yourself, don't you?" Cold asked.

Barry nodded again.

Cold's eyes took in his bare, revealed chest, his hips, his hands twitching at his sides to touch something, anything, and the bulge still somewhat hidden. "My only regret about last time, kid, is I didn't get to see you. You felt amazing, but mmm…now I want a clear picture. Show me."

The quick dart of Cold's gaze to Barry's eyes, holding there, watching him, before he glanced again to Barry's hand reaching into the suit, shot another pulse between his legs. He pulled himself free of the suit's restriction, careful around the edges of the zipper, and held himself in his hand for Cold to see—fuck, for Cold to see, looking at Barry hungrily, out in the open, on a rooftop, where someone could so easily see what they were doing—and dragged his thumb down the length.

"Stop," Cold ordered, voice suddenly harsh, jerking Barry to a halt as he looked up fearfully at the tone, only to catch Cold's blank stare immediately soften. "I didn't say you could do that. Wait to be told, sweetheart, or you'll ruin the game."

Barry wanted to snap, make some snide remark, banter back at least, but as his fear subsided, his desire strengthened, chasing away his irritation. He didn't want to ruin the game either—it was a game, always a game with them, just never before with these sorts of stakes. Barry liked this so much better than dodging blasts from the cold gun.

He sighed, stilled his hand, calmed his burst of frustration, and waited.

"Good boy," Cold said. "You do this right for me, next time you call the shots. Anything you want."

Oh yes please, Barry thought, and shit, he should not be planning a next time when he shouldn't be allowing anything this time, shouldn't have allowed a first time! But the flutter of desire in his belly was too strong, too good.

"You look so wet, Barry, I can see it from here."

Barry looked down, though he could feel it already, the precum dribbling over his fingers.

"Just for me, hm? You like me watching you like this, don't you?"

Another whimper fell from Barry's lips, louder this time, clearer over the coms. He looked up, caught Cold's stare again, and fuck, the man was right, the feel of his eyes on him was almost, almost as good as being touched. He did still want to touch himself though, so badly.

"Answer when I ask you a question, Barry."

Barry swallowed. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I like having your eyes on me. Like this. Holding my cock."

Cold hummed low. "Yes, you do, don't you? You can touch yourself now, but slow. Very slow."

Even at a gradual pace, the first pass of Barry's fingers down his shaft was heaven, picking up the wetness, curling around his tip, his thumb passing more firmly, and then finishing the stroke toward the base.

"Tell me, Barry, how pliant is that suit?"

"What?" Barry's arm trembled trying to keep his strokes from going as fast as he wanted to.

"Can you reach down beneath yourself with the suit still on?"

Barry frowned, thought about what Cold meant, and—oh. "I…no, it's one piece, I'd need to take it off, get my legs free."

"Then I want you to do that. Give yourself a few more strokes first…that's it. A little harder. Harder. Now stop. Get your bottom half out of the suit, so I can see."

Barry mourned the loss of his hand, wondered how much more likely someone might see and realize what was going on up here with his suit off, even if his cowl remained up, but then he realized he couldn't do it. The cowl was attached to the back of the neck. He couldn't remove his lower half without first taking off the cowl to shimmy out.

"Uhh…"

"You can use your speed, Barry," Cold said, "but in the end, if you want the mask to stay on, I want the rest of you visible. Whatever you need to do to accomplish that."

"Okay."

Barry took a breath to steel himself then flashed through the motions, lying on top of his suit when he had finished, boots left on, mask covering his face again, but the rest of him stark naked for Cold to rake his eyes down and devour.

Cold ran his tongue over his lips. "Good. Prop your knees up. Yeah…like that. What a view, kid. Now I want you to suck two fingers into your mouth and keep them there. Get them all wet until I tell you to stop."

The image of what Cold intended to have him do shook Barry, and he thought—no, he couldn't do that, not here, not out in the open like this. But then he really didn't want to disappoint Cold, to spoil whatever this was between them, and the nervous tension in every action, in every moment spent exposed, intensified the heat building and how good it felt.

Barry lifted his hand to his mouth.

"Slower."

He hesitated, moved at a more gradual pace, reached his mouth and parted his lips, sucking two fingers in as instructed, slow, slow, mouth wide so Cold could see. He closed his lips around the fingers, letting the saliva build in his mouth to coat them.

"Now, now, you can take them deeper than that, can't you?" Cold's grin was insufferable, so unbearably sexy.

Barry groaned around his fingers. Took them in deeper, so that a little saliva leaked from the corners of his mouth.

"Mmm, that's better. You can stop. Make sure those fingers stay wet. You can guess what I'm going to ask you to do with them."

Barry opened his mouth, pulled his fingers free—slowly, knowing Cold would remind him again otherwise—then let them hover, waiting for orders.

"You learn quick, Flash. Good. Good… Bring those wet fingers down. Tease yourself a little, but don't press inside just yet."

Oh god, Barry was actually doing this. On a rooftop, exposed, in front of his nemesis—for his nemesis. He'd never been so hard, leaking more precum all over his thigh and the Flash suit beneath him.

He leaned further against the gargoyle at his back, spread his legs, touched his fingers to the budded skin, prodding at his entrance, stretching a little, just a little, but not letting even a fingertip slip inside.

Finally, Cold's smug expression faltered, his mouth going slack, watching Barry. He was too far away to see how blown his pupils might be, but Barry imagined them pure black.

"Now let one finger in, only the barest possible inch, slow as you can."

Barry whimpered again. Going this slow was torture, his gut on fire. He pressed in not quite to the first knuckle.

"Good. Keep going."

Thank god.

"Deeper, Barry. Stretch yourself. Let me see how much you like it."

"Ugnnn," Barry arched his neck back, closed his eyes, but no. He wanted to see Cold, wanted to watch those eyes on him.

"You're so beautiful, kid. Flawless. Add the other finger."

Barry whined eagerly at the first touch, stretching himself wider, starting to scissor, slowly, always so slowly. And as he lay there, balanced on the ledge of a familiar rooftop, he watched Cold lift his hands to the waist of his pants, and Barry lamented that they weren't on the same roof, imagining how different this could go if they were.

With meters of a straight drop down between them, Cold removed his gloves, pulled himself free of his thermal pants, took himself in hand, stroked. Barry wanted to touch him, touch himself, feel Cold's hands on him, something.

"Keep going, Barry. Deeper." Cold's voice growled over the coms, rough and quaking now.

Barry complied, pressing his wet fingers as deep inside of him as he could, finding his prostate, quivering as a vibrating shiver ran through him. "Cold..." he moaned.

"Wishing that was my cock inside you, Barry?"

"Yessss." His free hand twitched to touch his swollen, untouched erection. He moved his hand closer, eyes on Cold touching himself. "Can I...?

"Not yet."

Barry whined loudly. He moved his fingers faster inside of him to accommodate. It felt good, enjoying the way Cold looked at him, imagining Cold was the one touching him, but it wasn't enough. "Can I...can I vibrate then?"

Cold tilted his head, confused. "Thought you couldn't control that."

"I can…a little. Please..."

Cold stroked himself faster. "Vibrate what?"

"My f-fingers."

"You can...?" Cold grunted low. "Do it. Show me."

Barry moaned at the loss of his fingers as he pulled them free, lifted them up, willed them to blur with vibrations, then brought them back to his entrance, slipping them easily back inside. "Fuck!" He went straight for the sweet spot, thrusting his fingers deep.

"Shit, kid...fuck, you're incredible."

"Can I now...? Please."

"Yeah...yeah, touch yourself. But don't come. You come when I do."

Barry's hand on his cock was such a relief, he nearly sobbed.

"Slower."

And then he did sob, choked, because, "Please...please..." slow wasn't enough.

"Almost, Barry. Slow. Keep vibrating those fingers. Show me how open you are. How much you want it. You do want it, don't you? You want me to fuck you."

"Please..."

"Oh I will. Soon, I will. But tonight you need to come for me just like this. Faster now. Just a bit."

Barry sped up his hand, fingers inside him, eyes on Cold rapidly moving his own hand over his red and weeping cock.

"F-Faster." Cold's voice stuttered, hoarse. "Faster. Fast as you can, Barry."

Oh, Barry could do fast. His hand blurred with speed, and fuck, he was going to come.

"Not yet."

"Cold...!"

"Almost, Barry...almost. Now!" Cold's voice broke off in a cry as he came over his fingers.

Barry moaned at the sight, finally giving over to the sensations wracking through him and coming so hard, his vision darkened. He nearly swayed on the ledge, correcting himself so that if he did topple, he fell onto the roof instead of all those stories down to the ground.

He gasped, breathed deep, managed to stay upright, feeling so buzzed and sticky and oh god, there was cum all over his suit. He'd have to clean it thoroughly, or risk Cisco's wrath. The very idea made him giggle, drunk on endorphins.

Sluggishly, he let his eyes drift to the other roof again, on Cold looking blissed out, face a mask of pleased calm, hand still on his dwindling cock, just eating up every inch of Barry he could look at.

Barry would have blushed if he wasn't heated and flush from head to toe. He needed a shower, and in the aftermath, being out in the open completely nude save for his mask, started to creep up on him. "Can I get back in the suit now?" he asked, a little playfully, since the game was mostly over.

"Sure, kid."

By the time Cold tucked himself away, Barry had zipped back into his suit, replaced all of his discarded articles, and stood at the ledge across from Cold. He licked his lips looking at the other man. He wished they were closer. Wished he could…he didn't know what.

"So…I get to call the shots next time?" Barry grinned. "Maybe actually touch you?"

Cold hummed at the suggestion. He put on his gloves, flicked his eyes down Barry's body, lingering on the stains. "Wouldn't that be something? Looking forward to it. Be seeing you, Flash."

"Uh…yeah. That was…"

Cold paused as he hooked his cold gun back into his parka, looked up, raised an eyebrow at Barry expectantly.

"Steamy," Barry let his nerves fall into a smirk instead. "Cold and lightning go together better than I thought."

Cold chuckled. "Seems that way. Don't think I'll go easy on you if next time we meet under different circumstances."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Cold gave a little salute, turned on his heel, and started to walk away.

Barry sighed in barely contained pleasure, still buzzing, still so high on delightful sensations. He turned to look out at the city, glancing at the stone gargoyle he'd used as a pillow. He walked over and patted the side of his trusty sentinel.

"This one's just between us and the city, Bruce."

"Still hacked into your coms, Scarlet," Cold said with amusement.

Barry blushed and quickly turned them off.

TBC...