A/N: Introducing Barry and Iris this chapter! I hope you'll be intrigued going forward if you were all 'where are westallen?' last chap. lol. Next chap I should FINALLY be getting to the content from the original insta story. Also, I'm upping the rating of this fic to M, since there is a smut scene in this chap (first scene, fyi) and prob will be at least a couple more at some point throughout. Plus, later on it'll get somewhat violent in the second half of the story, so I thought it was appropriate.

*Many thanks to sendtherain for beta'ing. :D

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter 2 -

Iris West-Allen was not a morning person.

After a shower, a cup of coffee, and a kiss from her husband – then absolutely, yes. But in those first moments when rays of sunlight shone through the window or the buzzing or obnoxious noise coming from her phone signaled an alarm going off? Nope, not one bit. Iris West-Allen loved her sleep.

Today was no different.

So, when the warmth of the sun stretched across her uncovered skin and the seconds ticked away until she knew her alarm was imminent, Iris begged the world to turn back time another hour. Just one hour extra of sleep to stay cuddled against her husband in their very warm bed.

As was often the case however, she knew that the closer to her alarm going off time went, the more difficult it was to fall back asleep when her consciousness was already starting to wake up. Reluctantly, with a resigned sigh, Iris reached across her side of the bed to her phone that was no doubt seconds from alerting her to the morning. Before she reached it though, a longer, warm arm stretching across hers reached the phone instead. Without even opening his eyes, her husband turned off the alarm.

She smiled to herself and murmured a "thanks," followed by a pleasant shiver rippling up and down her spine when Barry Allen pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, sweeping her dark tresses aside with his nose. His arm tightened around her waist, but she had little time to enjoy the comfort of the embrace before shock zipped through her at the hard length that pushed up against her ass.

She gasped quietly.

"Morning wood," he whispered into her hair.

There wasn't a single hint of seduction, and somehow that made him even more desirable. It turned her on immediately – the knowledge that his body reacted to her so instantaneously despite him not deliberately thinking about sex first thing in the morning.

She licked her lips and thought about what to do next. This could go one of two ways. Either she could just attempt to ignore the very blatant hint of her husband's arousal pressed between them and go back to sleep for a little while longer – or she could use the evidence as cause to pursue something hot and steamy before getting ready for work.

She loved sleep a lot, so that first option definitely appealed to her, but also…

She wriggled her butt a little against him. She heard his breathing hitch and smiled smugly to herself. A moment later his breathing returned to normal, and so she figured he thought he'd imagined it or that it hadn't been deliberate. So, she did it again, this time a little more forcefully. And just in case he hadn't taken the hint, she lifted his hand, previously covering her clothed stomach, to cup one lacy-covered breast.

"Iris," he hissed in her ear, groaning as his head fell to her shoulder.

His hand squeezed her breast and deftly lowered the top of her nightie, so he could cup a mound full of flesh.

Iris licked her lips and reached behind her, grabbing his dick in her hands and gripping it tightly. In response, Barry lifted his hand to her jaw and turned her face so he could lock their lips in a passionate kiss. Once accomplished, he lowered his hand down her body till his fingers dipped inside her panties and into her moist core, evoking a moan out of her when he found her erect clit.

"Barry."

She broke her mouth free of his, pumping his dick faster as his lips latched onto her neck and began to kiss their way down to the top of her back.

Iris would have no more of it though. She turned completely in his arms and pushed him all the way onto his back, straddling him.

"You smug bastard," she teased, looking down at him as he grinned up at her.

"Me?" he asked innocently, smoothing his hands over her hips and lower back.

"Yes, you."

"I'm not the one who turned down a few extra minutes of sleep for morning sex."

"We're not having sex yet," she pointed out.

His eyes turned dark and devious, and she knew she was going to love what happened next. In a heartbeat she was on her back and they were both naked. She loved how he hovered over her, a mixture of lust and love in his eyes just before he lowered his lips to kiss hers. He proceeded to trail sweet, sensuous kisses down her body until he was at her core, lapping at her juices.

She moaned loudly, arching up against him to the point he had to hold her thighs firmly in place.

"We can't do this all day, Barry," she half-heartedly protested. "I have to get…get ready for work." She gasped and cried out when he vibrated his tongue against her clit, pushing her over the edge.

Breathing heavily, she was only half aware that he was hovering over her again, waiting until she met his eyes. He waited a few beats, his hands clenching in the sheets on either side of her. He was so ready. She glanced down at his thick cock and then back into his smoldering green eyes.

"Yeah?" he rasped.

She nodded, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a steamy, tongue-twisting kiss. She bit his bottom lip and tugged gently before releasing him a moment later.

"Yeah," she whispered, nearly shrieking the tail end of the word as he thrust into her.

He retreated almost entirely and then thrust again, repeating the motion, speeding up quickly, until he was going so fast she was just short of telling him to slow down. But she couldn't. It felt so good.

"Oh, my God, Barry," she moaned, her nails digging into his back as she held on for dear life. His back was so slick with sweat she almost didn't succeed.

"Fuck, Iris," he barked, nipping at her neck when he briefly slowed to savor the feel of her.

Their eyes met, then one, two, three, deep thrusts and he pulled out to cum on her belly – the stark contrast of light against dark satisfying them both beyond belief.

Iris sighed contently, running her fingers through his damp hair.

"I almost want to say we should always wake up this way, but then you'd get used to it."

Barry lifted his head to meet her eyes and smiled tenderly at her before lowering his body beside her and tracing the lines of her arms and full figure with his fingertips.

"I'll never get used to you, Iris West-Allen."

She smiled back at him, her heart bursting with joy.

"I love you, Barry Allen."

He closed the distance between them with an eskimo kiss and then a real one.

"I love you, too."

…

A dingy basement wasn't the most ravishing view to dwell in day in and day out, but Amunet Black was not about to complain. She liked the damp atmosphere, the feeling of toxicity that anyone who entered her lair felt the moment they walked in. She didn't need a first-rate establishment. She had the top drug on the market. Her business was booming, and aside from one problematic reporter by the name of Iris West-Allen, she was in no danger of being uncovered.

She sat at a metal desk on the far side of the room, tapping her long decorative fingernails against the surface, contemplating her situation. If she could just get that little problem out of the way she could more fully focus on the success of her business. She could actually enjoy herself. And when the low life, Reverb – she rolled her eyes at the name – had finished her machine, she would be unstoppable.

"Edgar," she called out without looking up from the neat pile of tiny Ziploc bags filled with drugs sitting on the table.

A solidly built man stepped into the doorway from the outside hall. She glanced up at him when he responded with little more than an attempted intimidating stare and an ugly grunt.

"Come here," she said firmly with the type of sour sweetness she so excelled at.

He walked into the room and stopped a few feet away from her.

"This…Iris West-Allen…" She paused and looked up at him. "Would you consider her a threat?"

He didn't appear to comprehend. This was, she realized, the problem with not hiring smart hit men. Then again, she didn't want to risk someone outsmarting her – a rarity – and making the grave mistake of trying to overtake her organization; or maybe worse, outright leaving. She thought about the feisty brunette she'd taken under her wing that had attempted the former and brazenly succeeded at the latter.

"No, of course you wouldn't," she answered herself, picking up the packets of drugs and plopping them down in a new pile. "I don't consider her much of a threat myself…yet. But she is a reporter, and a very good one, I regret to admit. If she keeps going, she could find something vital to our organization and exploit it. We certainly can't have that. Not when I'm so close to having my empire expand so magnificently."

She beamed just thinking of the chaos she would unload to her competitors. No one would rival her expertise or the blind devotion she so readily obtained from her closest henchmen.

Finally, she looked up at the still silent Edgar who stood before her.

"Edgar."

"Yes, Amunet?"

"I would like you to send a message to our eager little reporter friend."

"A message?" he asked, his expression changing for the first time into one of confusion. He no doubt had expected orders to kill or at least kidnap.

"Yes." She smiled pleasantly. "I will write a short note, and you will deliver it. If it doesn't scare her off, then we will take more…forceful measures."

He nodded. "I will wait for you to finish it." He turned to walk back towards the hall.

"Oh, no need. This will be quick."

She pulled out a squeaky drawer in the desk she sat at and retrieved a small notepad and pen. In under thirty seconds she'd decided what she wanted to say and quite exquisitely written it and folded the piece of paper, handing it over to him.

"Be discreet," she said. "Nothing must lead back to us."

He nodded gruffly and was nearly out the door when she called out to him again.

"Take Penny with you," she advised.

He looked over his shoulder in question.

"She looks the part of an office girl. Have her slip into an appropriate uniform and make the drop-off."

He turned back around and headed out, but Amunet didn't need to worry that he wouldn't follow her orders. The benefit to her dumb muscle was that they excelled at two things – successfully injuring or killing the intended target and always, always following her orders.

…

The office was buzzing as usual with all the run-of-the-mill journalism going on. There was nothing out of the ordinary – research, phone calls, pestering the boss, pestering co-workers, complaining about assignments, taking extra long lunches… but Iris was stuck in a perpetual grin. She didn't even realize the smile was so plastered to her face until her sports reporter friend, Linda, popped on over to her desk, propping her hip against it.

"Hey, what's gotten into you?"

Iris blinked and looked up at her, aware for the first time that the open document on her computer was completely blank and had been for the last hour.

"What?"

"Well." Linda sat on the corner of her desk and crossed one knee over the other. "I wouldn't want to be accused of wasting my day analyzing your odd behavior. But…you've been smiling all day and you only had one cup of coffee. "Spill."

Iris laughed and shook her head.

"I just…love my husband."

Linda raised her eyebrows. "What'd he do this time? Give you lunch money?"

Iris shook her head, now attempting to fight the smile but still failing.

"I didn't see him come in today, so he couldn't have taken you out for lunch."

"No, he didn't. I ate at my desk."

"I know. I was with you."

She blinked, her brows briefly furrowing. "Oh. Right."

Now Linda laughed. "Girl, you're glowing. What's up with you?"

She shrugged and twisted a dark curl around her finger.

"My husband's good to me, what can I say?"

Linda rolled her eyes.

"I know you guys absolutely refuse to leave the honeymoon phase-"

"It's not a phase for us," she defended. "We're genuinely in love."

"All right, Disney. So, tell me what the doting husband did for you today?"

"Actually, I think it's something I did…or started at least."

"Iris." She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk. Her friend looked up at her, wide-eyed. "Stop beating around the bush. What happened? And how in the world could you be so happy about him if it's something you did? It must've been one hell of a-" She stopped, a possibility dawning on her. "Sex."

"What?" Iris asked, more from shock that she'd guessed it than that it was what had her so particularly cheerful.

"You guys had morning sex." She leaned back and folded her arms against herself. "Must've been pretty fantastic if you're still on cloud nine at…" She lifted her wrist to check her watch. "Three pm."

Iris shrugged innocently. "It was definitely good."

Linda laughed. "Something tells me it was more than just 'good'." She slipped her hand into her pocket to retrieve a small piece of paper and tossed it onto Iris' desk.

"What's this?"

"Postal worker handed it to me when I was coming back from lunch. I forgot about it until now. She said it's for you."

"Oh. Thanks."

She started to lean over to see what it might say, but just as Iris was opening it she closed it. She raised an eyebrow at her friend instead.

"I'm entitled to some privacy, aren't I?"

Linda rolled her eyes and hopped off her desk.

"Fine, fine. But if it's juicy, I want to know."

Iris laughed, but it was strained. Surprisingly, Linda didn't notice it.

"No promises," she called back as her friend returned to her own desk and resumed her assignments for the day.

Once Linda was fully focused on her own work, Iris flipped open the note and read it again – over and over to be sure she wasn't reading into it too much.

She suspected that unfortunately she wasn't and swallowed hard. She opened the document she'd been secretly working in for months that was flooded with pictures, some including the signature that had an uncanny similarity to the penmanship in the note she held in her hands.

Stop digging. Your husband has such a pretty face.

She folded the note away and stuck it into her pocket, a nasty chill reverberating over her entire body, a single whisper slipping passed her suddenly very dry lips.

"Amunet."