Len blinked at the most recent message on his phone. He stood dressed to leave, ready to head out the door once he grabbed his cold gun and shoes. He'd been intent on going to the safe house to work on the schematics he neglected last night. This turn of events had him quickly reconsidering.
He promptly removed his jacket and replaced it in the closet. Pushing up his plans with Barry a night early sounded like a marvelous idea, especially with a promise like that.
I'm gonna take you apart, Captain Cold. Slowly.
Len hardened just reading those words again. He texted back, Looking forward to it.
He glanced around his apartment. Spotless other than a few dishes drying on the counter. Sometimes he tinkered with his cold gun on the coffee table. Not tonight. He hadn't yet taken it from its hiding spot. Lucky he'd stopped at the drug store on his way home earlier and picked up some much needed supplies. He'd had enough to get by last night, if things had escalated as promised, but now he was better prepared for however long this tryst lasted between tonight and his heist.
Unexpected nerves fluttered through Len's stomach. Damn Mick for making him second guess this. Len could worry about the heist later. He could worry about everything else later.
A knock sounded at the door.
By the time Len crossed the room to open it, he wore a smug grin. "Impatient as always I s—"
Barry rushed him. Flash speed fast. Len barely had enough time to note that the kid had on a T-shirt and no jacket—odd given the cool spring weather—before he heard the door slam shut. His mind went blank at the sudden presence of Barry's intruding tongue, hands around has back, one already up the back of his sweater.
Len's breath caught as he swallowed down his heightened sense of fight or flight at being so thoroughly accosted, no matter what the end goal was. Sudden touch, harsh, demanding like this, being held in place—it always had him on high-alert for something…else.
But no violence followed. No pain. Barry kissed him, and kneaded the small of his back with long, powerful fingers. He would never hurt Len outside of a fight between hero and villain. He was just starved for touch, for someone to spread his legs, open him up, and take him. Len could do that. Oh, Len could definitely do that…
"Where's the bedroom?" Barry spoke against his lips, still pulling at them with subtle, sharp nips.
Len got over his shock, his tension, and reached for Barry, gripping and squeezing the other man's hips possessively. "Upstairs."
Vertigo seized Len, as well as the sensation of freefalling, of his stomach plummeting. Then his back hit his comforter, the view of Central City out his window glittering down at him. Barry appeared in his line of sight, hovering above as he straddled him, looking wild and windblown and hungry.
He kissed Len again, the dull edge of fingernails scraping along Len's stomach, pushing his sweater up, up, where it was easier to see his scars.
No…Len was fine, he was fine, he was fine. Better than fine with this kid atop him. He just hoped Barry didn't ask. He didn't seem to notice the change in texture of scar tissue beneath his fingers, at least not yet. He wedged a knee between Len's legs, straddled his thigh, and ground forward.
"Shit, kid, slow down," Len gasped, gripping Barry by the shoulders and holding him in place, clamoring for a sense of control over the situation. Barry's face looked instantly betrayed at the interruption, even angry. The last thing Len wanted was for him to think he wasn't interested. He rocked up against Barry, but with a languid roll of his hips. "Isn't that what you promised me, Scarlet? Slow."
Barry's fierceness remained but the shade of anger vanished in favor of a crooked grin and bite at his lower lip. "Yeah," he said, bending to kiss Len with an unhurried, deep probe of his tongue. "Yeah…" he said again, kissing Len even slower, with an echoing roll of his hips, thighs between each other's legs, both so hard already. "So slow, Snart. You have no idea. I'm gonna ruin you for everybody else." His eyes looked almost black above Len when he pulled away. "No one will ever be as good as what I'm going to do to you."
A fresh shiver wracked through Len's body, and he couldn't even care. "Promises, promises…"
Barry's wicked grin was everything Len had ever wanted of the kid, all his, in his bed, in his arms, no accompanying speech about goodness. Seemed The Flash wanted to skirt the line of being bad instead.
Barry's hands returned to pushing Len's sweater up his stomach, but he didn't yet attempt to remove it fully. Instead he kissed Len low, just above his beltline, then trailed his tongue up to Len's navel and licked around the rim and inside it before traveling higher. He didn't pause at the scars he encountered; he kissed or licked them all the same.
Barry moved to Len's nipple and bit down hard enough to make him hiss, then licked there too, a contrasting balm, before doing the same to the other side. Finally, Barry tugged the sweater from Len's arms, over his head, and tossed it away, so he could better kiss Len's collarbone and neck.
Len reached for Barry's hip, found the edge of his T-shirt, and sought out that soft, warm skin. His other hand pushed into Barry's hair and tugged to urge the kid on.
Barry whined and bit down on Len's neck. He licked at the mark left behind with careful, leisure swipes. "You can be rougher. I won't break."
"Fuck, Barry…I might," Len said—he didn't mean to sound so honest. So he tugged Barry's hair harder as the kid moved to lick his ear, Barry's right hand bracing him on the bed while the left traveled back down to rediscover the wet trails he'd left behind on his way up.
Still, Len didn't pull too hard; Barry didn't know what he was asking. Something must have happened to spark this, to bring him to Len's door a night early, desperate and greedy for it. Len wondered what it was, but he wasn't about to ask now.
Another moan and quick buck of Barry's hips in response to Len's tugs. Len turned his head to try and kiss Barry, but the kid scooted down the bed again, eyeing Len dangerously.
"Oh, you'll break all right. But in such a slow, sweet way. Just you wait."
Len spread his legs wider even as he quivered in anticipation. Barry started to undo his jeans. They were tighter than the slacks he'd worn yesterday, so the relief once they opened and Barry tugged them down his hips made Len sigh in pleasure. Barry palmed him through his underwear as soon as the jeans hit the floor.
"Is this why you're always so confident, Captain Cold?" Barry asked, as he stroked with faint pressure, tracing the outline of Len's cock, before gripping him hard.
Len grunted, bucked up into Barry, then shrugged. "It helps."
Barry laughed, and it was a lovely, dark sound. Len didn't think a giggle from Barry Allen could be so devious. Len's impressive size didn't matter much though when he had trouble getting anyone into his bed, let alone keeping them there. Hazzard of the trade; no one worth keeping wanted to fuck a criminal. Len had to make do with whatever he could get his hands on before it slipped through his fingers.
The fire and impatience in Barry's eyes seemed ever at war with his decision to draw this out, like he needed to constantly tell himself to slow down. Len wondered if that was true for the speedster no matter what the situation, if he felt like the world around him was always at an agonizing crawl.
"Before we get too far," Barry said, still stroking Len over the fabric of his underwear, tight and deliberate, "lube? Condoms? We're definitely going to put both to good use."
Oh yes, yes they were. Len gestured to his right at the nightstand. Just a lamp, an alarm clock, and one drawer. "At your leisure, Barry."
Barry nodded—and then swooped down to mouth Len through his underwear. Shit. His mouth was so hot. He sucked up along Len from the base, leaving fresh wet spots that he would suck into place and then breathe hot air over before moving further upwards. When he got to the tip, Len's own wetness had already soaked through. Barry sucked there just as greedily.
"Your…talents…have been going to waste playing hero," Len said. "You look good down there, Scarlet."
Barry fluttered his eyes up at him. "If you're impressed already, Snart, then you're in for some surprises."
Oh, Len was counting on it. His hands stayed mostly limp at his sides, he was so enraptured by the sight of what Barry was doing to him. He lifted his hips when Barry finally moved to rid him of his underwear and chucked them over his shoulder with another wide grin.
The Scarlet Speedster had Len naked on his own bed, and the kid hadn't even undressed a shred of clothing himself yet. He'd barely removed his shoes, but Len saw them, left at the top of the stairs. He figured he could forgive Barry that slight, just this once.
When Barry descended again, Len grounded himself in the feel of Barry's warm skin. He tangled his fingers in Barry's hair again just as the kid's lips parted to take him in fully. And it was a slow, slow descent, but he took Len, all of Len, all the way in.
Fuck, this was so worth it. Having to touch himself last night was more than worth it if Len got this now—The Flash between his thighs, swallowing him down.
Barry pulled off just as slowly then gave one long lick up Len's underside. He sat up on his knees and gripped the bottom of his T-shirt, pulling it up inch by inch and eventually flinging it into the abyss of the room. Len wanted to touch every one of those lean, taut muscles.
He reached for Barry, but the kid ducked between his legs again. He nipped at Len's inner thigh. Licked. Bit harder. Sucked. Len wanted more of that treatment elsewhere, damn it. But Barry did the same to his other thigh. Then licked and sucked his way to Len's balls and down, down…
"F-Fuck…"
"Told you. I'm gonna take. You. Apart."
Another long lick from underside to tip. Barry hovered, lips parted, eyes flicked up to meet Len's. And then the little shit crawled up and across Len to reach for the nightstand drawer, dragging the jeans he still wore across Len's wet and over-sensitized skin. Len hissed, and cursed, and pressed his head back into the mattress.
Barry returned with the supplies grinning impishly, and eyeing Len's naked body like he was ready to devour him whole. "Roll onto your side."
There came that freefalling feeling again. "What…?"
Barry tapped the bottle of lube against Len's shoulder. "Roll. Onto your side."
Len could have sworn he had control over this situation originally. Didn't he? Not that he was never on the receiving end, he did enjoy that, but it was rare, rare that he trusted someone enough to let them see him so exposed. Or at least rare that he was drunk enough not to care.
"Come on, Snart…" Barry coaxed him, settling in lying beside Len rather than straddling him, and trailing the hand not holding the lube and condom gently down his chest, around his navel, teasingly into the curls below his waist, and into the buds of precum at his head. "I'll make it so good, you can't even imagine. Have you been disappointed so far?"
Len couldn't say that he had been. Barry's hand on him alone, thumb passing over his slit, fingernails grazing lightly down his shaft, made him want to give in to every whim, every command the kid gave him. He usually didn't work that way, in any situation, let alone in bed. He needed to know he had an exit strategy, at all times, that he could always, always gain the upper hand.
"You're awfully confident tonight," he said.
"Because I know what I have to offer. Next time you can bend me in half like I promised, Snart. Do whatever you want to me. But tonight let me show you how good it can be like this. Remember how much you enjoyed my little…party trick?"
Before Len could answer, a moan tore from his lips as the hand on him wrapped around his length and held firm. Barry's hand, his fingers, they—shit. Vibrated.
"Yeah…you like that. I can do so much more. I'll show you." He pulled his hand away, took the lube and condom and set them on the other side of the bed, like a peace offering that they weren't jumping to the end yet, and nudged Len again to roll over.
Len was too morbidly curious not to obey.
As he rolled to his side, he felt Barry shuffle out of his jeans. He knew Barry had also ditched his underwear when he felt the slick, hot slide of the kid against the back of his thighs. Barry spooned in behind him, draped his arm around his waist, and glided his hand up Len's chest, up his neck, and eventually to his lips. He brushed his thumb over Len's mouth, then teased with the pads of his pointer and middle fingers, prodding for entrance, always careful, but so insistent, like he didn't fear for a second that Len would ever refuse him. That kind of confidence from Barry did things to Len he couldn't put a name to.
He opened his mouth, let Barry slide in his fingers, and brushed his tongue along the slender digits. Len felt Barry twitch between his legs, eager to find a harbor, but he didn't push for it. He had Len suck on his fingers first, and as soon as Barry pulled them sopping, dripping from Len's mouth, they sped up in front of his eyes, blurring indistinctly.
"I've only ever tried some of this with myself. Never a partner. Would kinda give away that I'm The Flash," Barry chuckled. "Wanna explore some uncharted territory with me, Snart? See what you like?" He touched the vibrating fingers to Len's lips, which was tingly and strange and wonderful, before moving down his chin, and neck, and chest.
The vibrating, wet fingers teased around Len's nipple, making him shiver and gasp. Then around the other. Then slower down his stomach. Len was so wet, so hard, imagining where else those fingers might go. The not knowing—though he had an idea—was oddly freeing with someone like Barry, who had goodness stamped into his bones. Kid was playing a dangerous game like an old pro and had Len panting in mere minutes.
He didn't touch Len's cock. He trailed low down his thigh, over his hip, to the other side, down again, and up to right above his entrance, that sensitive patch of skin that made Len quiver. Barry drew his fingers up agonizingly slowly along Len's shaft, and twirled through the notable wetness leaking from his tip.
"Sure seems like you like it," Barry whispered, and shifted the touch of his fingers into the full hold of his hand. Len bucked into him, fighting the desire to rut forward and end this quickly. "Now that wouldn't be any fun," Barry said as he pulled his hand away, sensing Len's urgency. "I have a better idea. On your back again."
Len didn't even pause before complying. He was almost shaking, he was so keyed up. "Don't think you'll always be able to order me around like this."
"We'll see."
Len couldn't help grinning. He liked this Barry that didn't hesitate to challenge him.
Barry situated himself between Len's legs again, hunkered down low, and reached for the lube. He coated his fingers, making them slicker than the wetness from Len's mouth. The expression the kid wore was pure mischief, almost daunting, almost…menacing. It reminded Len of their fights, which carried their own sort of pleasure.
Now Len understood. This wasn't Barry Allen. Barry Allen wasn't such a confident powerhouse, oh no, that was reserved for when he wore the suit. This was The Flash, thrumming and in control, as he brought his fingers to Len's entrance, and in perfect time with the slow twist of the first one pressing inside, Barry parted his lips to suck in Len's cock.
Len moaned. He bit it back, choked it down, but he couldn't not be vocal. It was worse, so much worse, so much better, when that finger started to vibrate again. Curses fell from Len's lips to beat out the needy whimpers building in the back of his throat. He clutched at the comforter beneath him. Barry around him and inside him at the same time was too much, his powers making him move in a way no one else could.
Barry was right. Len would never be with anyone who could match him. And that would have been a sobering, bitter thought, if Len wasn't enjoying himself so much.
The second finger pressed in, already buzzing, and pushed past the knuckle so, so slowly. Barry coiled his fingers deep inside Len and curled them toward him like gesturing Len closer, brushing directly against his prostate, while Barry bobbed down and took Len all the way down his throat at the same time. Len's moan was positively filthy this time. He was going to come, he could feel it.
"You a moaner, Cold?" Barry asked as he pulled off, right when Len had been on the brink, like the kid knew exactly how much he was torturing him.
"Only if you earn it," Len rasped.
"Oh, I'll earn it. I like your voice like that. It's sexy." He scissored his fingers, slowing the vibrations finally, which Len both mourned the loss of and felt relief from, because he didn't want to come yet, not when he knew what the finale would bring.
Barry slid his fingers out of Len and crawled back into position beside him. Len didn't need to be told; he rolled onto his side, and Barry chuckled as he brought the lube with him and reached over Len to snatch up the condom.
"Next time, Snart, you can fuck me. But this time, you're mine."
Len shivered. Next time he was going to show this kid a thing or two about making someone moan. But damn it, he wasn't complaining. The searing hot press of Barry to his entrance wrecked him, arm snaking around his chest again, dropping to his hip to steady him as Barry pushed just barely inside, so slick, so hot. Len tried to hold his moans back, wanted to make Barry work for it, but everything the kid did pulled such easy, needy noises from him.
And he was moving so god damn slow. Len wanted to push back against Barry, even if the stretch was tight. It had been a while, Len needed the time to adjust, would have appreciated it, because of course Barry was careful, but it was almost worse that he was moving too slow. Len was shaking by the time Barry seated himself fully, and then he just stayed there, inside Len, not moving, and kissed the back of his neck.
"God damn it, kid…"
Barry giggled again, a strangely sinister sound, which alone made Len shudder. "See. So slow," Barry said, finally pulling back for another stroke in, but even that was sweet agony in its rhythm. "That's the thing about my powers, Snart. I can slow things way down…like it's all happening in slow motion. Or speed up…so it feels as fast for me as it looks to you. But we wouldn't want to do that. Except for…" his voice dropped to a breathy whisper, and then—
"Barry." Len's mind blanked out entirely as Barry vibrated inside of him as he moved, pulling out almost entirely and then slowly—fuck, slowly—pushing back in, while his powers made him blur with speed. The contrast was mind-numbing. Len thought that if Barry would only touch him, even a single stroke would be enough for him to come. But Barry didn't, kept his hand at Len's hip, and pulled back for another slow thrust home.
"I like my name on your lips, Snart…like the way you say it. Like that you know it. You. Just you. You're the only one who's ever had me like this. The only one."
A swell of possessive pride filled Len's chest. Damn right, he was the only one. The only one of Barry's villains who really knew him. The only one, the only person who Barry could reveal his powers to while intimately connected.
The kid was his. He wanted to roleplay hero and villain, wanted to feel powerful? Len liked that game on the streets of Central City; he had no qualms about playing it in the bedroom. It meant that Len was the only one who got to see the real Barry, where the cowl and what lay beneath it blurred, and gave Len more control than even Barry realized.
And fuck did it feel good, the slow slide of Barry inside him, the vibrations, the heat of the kid. Heat, in the right situations, could be so good, Len knew, but he'd never imagined it like this, the way Barry seemed to warm up even more with the lube and the way he moved. Len opened up for him and accepted every sweet inch. And because Barry didn't touch him, wouldn't touch him, combined with the slow pace, Len remained right on the edge, never quite where he needed to be, but still feeling so, so good.
"I'm not speeding up…until you beg me to," Barry huffed. "How long can you last?"
"How long can you last," Len said.
Barry laughed and bit the back of Len's neck where he had kissed him. "That's what's so fun about you, Snart. You always…gotta push back."
He called Len's bluff, because apparently he could last indefinitely, which shouldn't have surprised Len, when he saw how quickly Barry had been hard again last night after coming. Maybe Barry could draw things out for hours, with perfect, unwavering control—fast orgasms one after the other, or one that lasted all night long. Len hoped not, because he couldn't take anymore. He needed to come, needed Barry to speed up and finish him off. Several pitiful whimpers made it past his lips.
"Got something to say, Snart?"
Oh, he was such a little shit. Len couldn't deny that it turned him on more. "Stop fucking around, Barry. Come on."
"Come on, what?"
"Faster."
"Ask nicely."
Fuck this kid. Len was going to ice him just to spite him after this. He needed to be touched. Needed Barry to go faster. "Please."
Barry hummed in pleasure, and whispered, "How fast can you handle?"
Another moan ripped from Len's lips as Barry's pace quickened—deep, and sharp, and right where Len needed it. Faster, faster, impossibly fast. Len lost his breath, as he imagined Barry blurring behind him. It should have been too much, but fuck, it was something else, leaving every inch of Len prickling with goosebumps.
Barry still had one arm wedged up along Len's shoulder, the other braced at his hip. If Barry wasn't going to touch him, Len had to touch himself. He reached between his legs—
Barry snatched his wrist up with the hand at his hip and held it prisoner against his stomach. "Not yet."
"Barry."
Barry's hand was still, but his hips continued to buzz, and his voice echoed with a quiver in his vocal chords. Len never knew Barry had such individual control over how he moved and used his powers. There were lessons to be learned from this, and even at his most vulnerable, Len never missed an opportunity to file away useful information.
He moaned again at the sharp thrusts hitting him just right. He was close to coming without being touched, but he didn't want that. He needed a hand on him—his own, Barry's, he didn't care which.
"No," Barry said, as if reading his thoughts. "Louder."
Len was losing his mind. He should hate this. He had never, ever allowed something like this with anyone else. But this was Barry Allen, the god damn Flash, and it felt so, so good.
So Len gave in. Let himself be loud. Let the moans leave him unhindered. He leaned his head back against Barry's shoulder, and pressed his hips back harder too. "Please," he begged, playing the game, because even if in Flash's mind he won this round, Len still won too. He had The Flash here, after all, in his bed—his, all his.
Barry released Len's wrist and reached down to take him in hand. The vibrations moving through the rest of his body returned to his fingers as they passed into the silky smooth wetness dripping so liberally from Len's length. The firm, buzzing grip, after being so long denied, so heightened, meant it took only three good strokes before Len sucked in a breath that he held as he finally, finally came.
He sagged boneless into the bed even as Barry kept on, giving several good thrusts more before Barry followed after him. An all over shudder pulsed through the kid's body. Len couldn't describe it—any of it. Couldn't liken any sensation in his entire life to what Barry had just done to him. All he knew was that someday soon he'd want to feel it again.
Barry gasped into Len's shoulder as he stilled, caught his breath, and let out a beautiful, relieved exhale like that was everything he'd ever wanted. He pulled his soiled hand away, careful not to get it on the comforter or on Len, which almost would have been thoughtful if he didn't accompany pulling out with a swift bite to Len's neck. Len grimaced but also shivered at the mix of pleasure and pain, harsh but not too rough, just like how Barry fought.
As Len felt Barry pull away fully, it dawned on him that he hadn't actually seen Barry put on the condom. He always made sure to witness that. It was just smart business. Len didn't have regulars. Not anymore. Barely fucked anyone he could stand. He always wore a condom, and always watched his partner put one on if their positions were reversed.
Len peered over his shoulder and watched as Barry rolled the condom off. Sloppy. Always so sloppy with Barry. He had to be better. Had to get his head on straight with this kid and stop getting so easily caught up in his whirlwind.
But damn, had it been worth it tonight.
Barry caught his eye, grinned roguishly, and then vanished. Len only knew he'd gone to the half-bath across the room because he could see the light on from where he laid on the bed, see vaguely inside as Barry disposed of the condom, washed his hands, made use of the toilet, and came back with a skip in his step.
Len rolled onto his back, getting remnants of lube all over his comforter, but he didn't care. Most of the mess had gone with Barry.
Barry made to crawl back onto the bed with a predatory gleam in his eyes—shit, was he still hard? Or hard again? This kid was going to be the death of Len. But before Barry could reach him, his stomach rumbled loudly and he groaned as he fell forward onto his forearms like he'd felt a wave of dizziness.
Len chuckled. "Hungry, Scarlet?"
"Urg…starving. I didn't finish dinner. I need a solid ten thousand calories a day—"
"Ten thousand—"
"And I used up a lot of energy just now," Barry snickered. He looked up at Len, a little pale and glassy-eyed but still alert. "Hey…that Thai food?"
There he was—that awkward, adorable kid beneath the cowl. "Leftovers in the fridge. Help yourself. I might need a minute."
"I bet you do," Barry said, and leaned forward on his hands and knees to kiss Len, gently this time, a light peck to his lips. "Good though, right?" he whispered.
With a few words and a tender kiss, Barry summed up all the reasons why Len trusted him enough to even entertain what they were doing. "Good. Can't wait to pay you back for it."
Another low giggle which, if Len wasn't so thoroughly spent, might have rekindled his desires right then and there.
Barry zipped from the bed, redressed, if his suddenly missing clothing and shoes were any indication, and left Len to fend for himself. Distantly, Len heard the sounds of Barry rummaging in the kitchen.
Len spread out on the bed and took a few slow breaths to still his pulse. His adrenaline and endorphins were still sky-high. Only a good heist, a good fight, ever made him feel this blissful. Though especially when those things included Barry Allen. This added dimension to their relationship was a solid win, Len decided. He'd teach Barry a lesson next time, and enjoy taking the kid apart as payback.
Slowly, Len swung his legs off the bed and gingerly made his way to the bathroom to clean up. When he padded down the stairs a few minutes later, barefoot and comfortably dressed in grey cotton sleep pants and a long-sleeved navy T-shirt, Barry was situated on a stool at the kitchen island, digging into several of the remaining containers of leftovers. Len had barely touched them last night. He noticed that the infamous shoes were now placed at the door where they belonged. Smart kid.
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Barry? Thought you couldn't meet until tomorrow night."
Barry faced Len somewhat sideways from the end of the island, nearly dropping his fork as he shoveled noodles into his mouth. He finished chewing and swallowing his current bite, but his eyes darted to the countertop before he replied. A shadow of something fierce and angry flashed across his face. The smile he forced when he looked up again didn't fool Len for a second.
"Plans changed. Needed a break. You sounded like a really good bad idea."
Len smirked. Kid obviously wasn't interested in divulging more. Fair enough. "That, I can promise you, will always be true."
Barry grinned, dug into another bite of noodles, then offered the container to Len.
"I'm good, thanks. But tell me, Barry," he crossed to his liquor cabinet—he could use that drink he didn't have last night, "this going to be an ongoing occurrence?"
"Me eating your leftovers?" Barry asked with a tease at the corners of his lips that he finished with a glance down Len's body. "Or fucking you better than anyone else you've ever had."
Len felt a shock of desire stir in his belly as he pulled down his whiskey bottle and poured himself two liberal fingers; this version of Barry he definitely wanted to see more of. "That's pretty bold for someone barely old enough to buy me a drink."
"Fuck you, I'm twenty-six. And do you really want to bring age into this?"
Len really didn't. He turned around and took a sip from his drink.
"Besides, I thought we had some promises to keep," Barry raised an eyebrow at him, and popped an egg roll into his mouth obscenely.
Len eyed Barry sitting there in just jeans and a T-shirt stretching across his finely muscled chest. Those promises would be worth every risk, he knew they would be, now that he had gotten a taste, but he had to ask, "What happens the next time I pull a heist?"
"You admitting you're planning one?"
"Cute. But you can't con me as well as you think you can. You overheard me and Lisa at the coffee shop. Well played with the spilled drink, Barry, but you had a plan in mind from the start, didn't you?"
Barry looked momentarily flustered. He set his fork down and summoned that cryptic, playful expression that made Len want to bend him over the countertop, no matter how spent he was. "Maybe. As for your next heist, we have an agreement. Same rules apply. If I find out or get called in, I'll try to stop you, but I won't turn you over to the police as long as you don't kill anyone, don't hurt any innocents, and don't tell anyone my identity. Deal? There's no reason that should interfere with this."
Huh. Len hadn't expected it to be that easy. But then maybe Barry wasn't thinking this through. Kid had such a strong streak of good in him, he'd likely have a harder time separating business from pleasure than he expected. "Deal," Len said anyway. He'd offered as much as he planned to about his upcoming score, and even if it all blew up in his face, he still had eighteen days to enjoy the ride.
Barry finished off the last of one of the containers. He'd already finished one before Len got down the stairs. He snatched up another egg roll instead of the third container and ogled Len leaning back against the counter with his ankles crossed, one hand on his arm as he sipped his whiskey. "I like the suits. Like the leather. Like this too. Guess you just look good in everything, Snart. And nothing."
Len flicked his tongue along the rim of his glass. This kid understood all right—the game never stopped. "No mention of the parka, Barry? I'm insulted."
"The costume overall is…cute," Barry tilted his head. Ha—cute, he says. "But seeing you out of it, it's hard to enjoy something that keeps you so fully covered. Maybe you can tailor it down, make it a little more…skin tight."
"Like yours? I don't know, kid, you think Cisco would give me a discount on a redesign?"
Barry's smile dropped, as if hearing the engineer's name spoiled his dinner. He pushed the last container away from him and hopped off the stool. "I should go."
Len sat up straight to follow him. Whatever had brought Barry here tonight instead of tomorrow had definitely involved Cisco, that much was certain. Barry really needed to work on not being so transparent. "So soon? You haven't eaten me out of house and home yet. A quick fuck and half a meal? Didn't realize you were such a cheap date, Scarlet." He set his drink down on the counter as he followed Barry to the door.
His comment prompted that lovely 'I hate how much I like you' smile that Len always managed to goad out of him. "Fuck you," Barry said again—and that should not be as hot as it was, hearing Barry curse so casually.
Len cocked his head and licked his lower lip. "Yes. You did. And I'm looking forward to round two."
Barry chuckled as he finished putting on his shoes, and stepped into Len's space, close enough that most people would have backed up a step. Len didn't. "And three and four and…however much higher you can count."
"I can count pretty high." In truth, Len could win most games of pool by doing geometry in his head, calculating force and angles with adept precision. But Barry didn't need to know that.
"I'll call you," Barry leaned closer.
"Maybe I'll call you."
"Maybe I'll answer," Barry bantered back. And then he kissed Len, all heat and power and promise, with a gentle tug at Len's bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled back. "Be seeing you, Snart," he said as he backed toward the door, throwing Len's own words back at him.
Oh, Len could definitely get used to this, for however long it lasted.
Barry considered for all of two seconds whether or not he should head back to STAR Labs. He was still too fired up, too buzzed on the thrill of sex and having Snart completely under his thrall. He knew he'd have to apologize to Cisco eventually, but he didn't want to deal with that now.
He looked at his phone and saw that he had four missed calls from his friend. Shit. He'd deal with it tomorrow. Right now, he just wanted to go home, put on something warm since he'd left his jacket at the labs, and think about what his next play would be with Snart.
The thief was making it too easy. Barry had all of the control, and Snart wasn't even making an attempt to take it back. Not in any way that would work. Oh, Barry would let the man fuck him next time—he looked forward to it—but by then he'd already have Snart so twisted up in wanting him, Barry would still have the power no matter what they did in the bedroom. He'd make sure that every time they were together, he'd leave Snart begging for more. He'd make it so good, be so amazing to the man, Snart wouldn't be able to imagine life without him.
No shred of guilt wavered in Barry's gut at what he was doing. What else could he feel for Snart other than hatred? The illusive Captain Cold was even planning to steal something again, couldn't stop himself, always just a criminal at his core, a villain. Snart felt no remorse, so why should Barry? What more proof did Barry need that he would never, ever change?
Barry did hate him, and giving him everything he wanted only to take it away was going to feel so gratifying. Finally, Barry had the power that Eobard had taken away from him. This time Barry was the puppet master, and the revenge he hadn't been able to take out on the man who killed his mother, he'd take out on Snart.
After all, it wasn't like Snart didn't deserve it.
TBC...
Don't expect updates this fast all the time, this chapter was just an...easy one to write. :-) Also, don't expect it to be quite this smut heavy in the future. There will be more smut, but LOTS more plot going forward. This will not always be bottom!Barry, in fact, the rest will likely be a little more Len on top heavy, though they'll switch alot too, like I always write them. :-) Comments are love! Seriously, you guys are the most amazing readers ever, and your comments really spur me on to write more. I am so excited to keep going with this. :-) Thank you so much for reading!