This was a bad idea. Barry knew it was a bad idea. Everything about Leonard Snart was a bad idea. But it felt so good, pressed down into the sofa cushions by Len's weight, the broader man sitting atop Barry, knees on either side of his thighs, as Barry clung to Len's neck and kissed him.

Len's hands that had been braced on Barry's chest started to drift downward as Len let more of his weight settle on Barry's hips. They were both wearing thin, grey S.T.A.R. Labs sweatpants; nothing was left to the imagination as Barry began to react, and Len was right there with him.

Barry gasped when cold fingers found the hem of his T-shirt and pushed up underneath it. It was the middle of the night, maybe 3AM, the building empty except for them, and the cameras—shit, the cameras! This time Barry would definitely tamper with the footage and just explain to Cisco that he would be thankful it had been erased.

Barry wished he could let Len know that he wasn't allowing this to happen only because Len had changed since hitting his head. Barry had already admitted that he'd found the Rogue attractive from the beginning. Who wouldn't? But it wasn't only that either. He liked the confidence and swagger of Captain Cold, how clever he was, how adaptive. He also secretly loved the puns, and whenever he was really upset, especially if it was at Cold, he'd think back on the most ridiculous of them and laugh. The guy had style, there was no doubt about that, and he hid nothing, held nothing back about who and what he was.

If Barry could have that without the darker side, the side that hurt people and killed and enjoyed devastation then he wouldn't need Len to be timid and sweet—not all the time. Though he loved that too, this unique side of Len that at least in part had to be in him somewhere or it wouldn't have been his default. He was a good man. Barry would show him that he could be good just as he was, the best of himself, not as someone else.

If this was how he showed Len that…maybe it wasn't so bad.

One of Len's hands pushed up to Barry's clavicle beneath the T-shirt, the other clinging to his hip. Barry didn't mean to grind up into Len so tellingly, but the tease of heaviness growing between them, thrusting up and being able to feel how Len hard was for him already through the thin material, was maddening.

The hand up Barry's shirt slid slightly down and to the right, grazing dull fingernails over a nipple. Barry hissed. His skin was always brand new from how it regenerated—it made him so much more sensitive than he used to be.

Len broke from their tangle of tongues to kiss across Barry's jaw and down his neck. The spot right beneath Barry's ears was particularly shiver-inducing. Len learned that quickly with the way Barry mewled and bucked up, latching on hotly in response, sucking hard and wet to leave a mark. Barry didn't mind; it'd be gone by morning anyway, which he actually lamented. Finally he was with someone who wanted him as desperately as he wanted them, and he couldn't even wear any badges of honor around. Probably for the best though.

Barry wanted to touch Len in return, so he moved his hands to Len's back, to the edge of the sweater he'd borrowed yesterday and never changed out of, finding cool, smooth skin. As Len licked the rim of Barry's ear, he felt the familiar tremor of losing control, his hands shaking, trembling—vibrating.

Shit.

He released Len and clenched his hands into fists to still the flux of power.

"What's wrong?" Len whispered, lifting up, one hand still up Barry's shirt, trailing lazy, teasing circles over his skin.

"N-Nothing, I just…uhh…well…" This was so embarrassing, Barry didn't know how to say it. "See, I haven't really done this—successfully—since becoming The Flash. When I get excited, I, um, sort of…" he closed his eyes; it was too mortifying, "vibrate."

Len said nothing for a moment, his movements stilled, then his breath ghosted over Barry's ear. "You vibrate?" he repeated, and god, why did that sound so dirty when he said it? "And why, Barry, is that a bad thing?"

Barry's eyes sprang open at the question, staring at Len's now amused expression when he pulled up to look at him again. "Because it could," Barry realized how ridiculous this was as he said it, "give away that I'm The Flash. But you already know I'm The Flash. So…"

"So…why don't we let things happen naturally, and see how we can put your…special talents," Len said it like it was the most vulgar, wonderful thing in the world, "to good use." And he grinned, sort of smirked, really, his tears forgotten and drying on his cheeks. He looked more like the confident Captain Cold that Barry was used to instead of nervous, blank-slate Len.

It was unfairly hot.

"How are your stitches?" Barry asked.

Len's expression dropped and he sat back, confused. The press of their hips tighter together from the shift in weight made Barry whimper.

"I mean, ugnn…" he tried not to moan, "…do you think you can lie back without aggravating them?"

Instantly, the smirk returned to Len's lips. "I think they're healed enough for that. Not as tender anymore. Why?"

Barry returned the grin. So what if he hadn't done this in a while—a long while. Maybe his vibrating really could be put to good use. It had certainly come in handy when he was alone.

What had started as accidental had turned into common practice for him, the shake of his hand, the right amount of speed, how quickly he could get hard again afterwards, so much more reliably than any teenager could attest to. He'd just never thought he could share that strange part of himself with someone else, that he could ever share being The Flash.

Len was the only person Barry didn't have to wear a mask for.

In seconds, their positions were reversed, Len lying back on the sofa while Barry straddled him. He felt silly for having forgotten that he didn't need to hide anything from Len. It sent a wonderful thrill shooting up his spine.

He took a moment to just roll his hips, Len's hard length sliding lewdly past his own beneath the sweats. He didn't want to undress them yet. Despite planning to let his powers be of use along the way, he wanted most of this to go slow.

He held Len's face in his hands and let his thumbs delicately wipe away the last traces of wetness from beneath his eyes. For a moment, Len's charming, heated expression faltered, becoming instead the somber, tragic desperation Barry had seen too often since letting Len into his life. Nothing about this should be tragic.

Barry kept his hold on Len's face as he kissed him, a brief, deep lick of his tongue between teeth, a soft bite at Len's lower lip. He rolled his hips again, and Len shuddered beneath him. Barry dragged his nails back through Len's hair, pressed his fingers deep to pull Len closer and plunge his tongue deeper too, long smooth strokes connecting them.

A gentle rocking began, the cloth between them dulling the sensation just enough while the wetness gathering at their tips and soaking through several telling spots made Barry feverish for more than just that awful tease.

He was tingling, trembling. Another surge of power thrummed through him and he used it to remove Len of his sweater, careful even in his speed of the stitches as he pulled the fabric over Len's head. It was across the room before Len knew what had happened. He laughed a little, ever amazed with Barry and what he could do.

Barry didn't try to stop his hands from vibrating this time as he slid them down Len's bare chest, around his back, hoisted him up slightly so he more so sat in Len's lap and ground even harder against him.

"We…n-need these pants off," Len stuttered.

"We'll get there…" Barry promised.

Len groaned, which fell from his lips low and deep, and settled in a long rumble. He pawed at Barry's T-shirt, sliding it up with his cool hands dragging along the skin, pulling at the fabric until Barry played along, let him yank it up over his head and off. Len gripped Barry's back with one arm, his right hand twisting into Barry's hair and tugging him down, holding him in place to keep their lips connected, wet and messy and desperate.

The constant roll of their hips had Barry panting, hyper aware and begging his speed to cooperate, to not go too fast where it counted. He focused the tremors into his hands, thinking of when he touched himself, how even when he lost control then he could keep some sense of direction in the vibrations.

After minutes of sucking Len's tongue into his mouth, and feeling just how hard they both were within their feverish rocking, he pushed Len away from him back into the cushions and slipped down between Len's legs. Letting his vibrating hands feather down Len's stomach as he moved, he lowered himself to press a kiss between Len's hips, the sweatpants already tugged down low enough to reveal the finely carved grooves of Len's hip bones.

He was all power and strength, tense, tight muscle, in a way Barry had never been, especially before the accident. He wanted to run his hands over every dip and curve, map it out, worship Len a little. Len needed to know he was worthy of that.

So for a few minutes, that's exactly what Barry did. Sometimes his hands were still, sometimes shaking at flash speed, running firm and wanting over Len's chest, stomach, and down his hips, but never past the barrier of the sweatpants. Barry teased at the possibility, even let his thumbs slip beneath the elastic several times as if he'd finally pull them down, but never followed through.

"Fuck, kid…you gonna torture me all night?" Len huffed, his ice blue eyes hooded as he laid back and watched each careful movement of Barry's hands.

Barry licked his lips, flicked his eyes up to meet Len's. Len's legs were crooked up and spread open, Barry settled neatly between them, his head right there between Len's thighs. The heady smell of Len was all around him. It was easy, too easy to lower his head and latch on to Len at the wet spot through the sweatpants and suck.

"Fuck!" Len said again, neck arching from the sofa, both hands digging into Barry's hair, tight, right at the edge of painful and hot as hell.

Barry liked to be teased, to have every moment drawn out until he was so wet, he dripped and soaked the sheets. He could feel the precum dribbling down his length now, offering those attentions to someone else. Len's soft, shivering whimpers were the best validation Barry had ever heard.

He slid his hands beneath Len's thighs to brace himself, sucking harder through the fabric, letting it get sopping wet from his eager mouth.

"Barry…" Len's voice sounded pleading now, and when Barry looked up this time, Len's pupils were so blown, his eyes looked black. They spoke of nothing but heat in their depths, and it made Barry grin, because Len had quite the smolder for someone called Captain Cold.

Barry moved his hands back up to Len's waistband, teased his thumbs beneath the line of fabric again, but finally, this time slid the pants up and over and down Len's strong thighs. Barry hadn't quite caught a glimpse this intimate when he spied on Len in the shower, the other man having been turned away from him, but this new, glorious view made him wish he had something to grind against. The couch cushions were not enough in this position. But he had time to get there.

His hands starting shaking again, so he braced them at the curve of Len's hips where they connected to his thighs, and let them vibrate there as he descended, lips parting, gaze locked with Len's the whole time until he sucked him in.

Barry had never tried this before, but as he curled his tongue around Len and took him in deeper, he focused on vibrating his throat. His whole face and head moved at first, which worked, had the desired effect, but he focused his power until only the parts he wanted to vibrate were moving, concentrating the pulses right where he wanted.

Len's moan was long and loud and wonderfully low. He only managed a few moments like that before he was tugging at Barry's hair, "It's too…I c-can't…Barry…" and fuck, his name had never sounded so lewd.

Barry broke away with a pop, his tremors stilling, even at his hands. He didn't want Len to get too far ahead of him. He licked his lips again, grinning wide as he tugged Len's sweats the rest of the way off, leaving him lying naked, spread out before him.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" Len said, chest heaving, hips subtly arching up at the loss of contact.

Barry giggled a little, which sounded husky even to his own ears, maybe from the recent vibrating, maybe from just how much he was enjoying himself. "I warned you about the vibrating," he said.

"I wasn't talking about that," Len growled back. "I expected blushing inexperience from you, Barry, but I guess that was my mistake. I certainly didn't expect…this." He bobbed his eyebrows suggestively.

Barry promptly flushed at the compliment.

"There it is," Len chuckled.

"Hey," Barry laughed bashfully back, "so maybe I wouldn't call myself…experienced. And the blushing…I don't always have control over that. But it doesn't mean I can't make up for my short comings with eagerness and a very, very deep-seated need to please. I've been told it's one of my more endearing qualities." His face was on fire even as he stretched his smile, taking in how Len was looking at him bemused now, watching him so closely right there between his legs. Barry felt the need to be rebellious.

He licked a slick, wet strip up Len's cock.

Len choked out another laugh, "Fuck" and pressed his head into the sofa. Then he hissed.

Barry pulled up sharply.

"I'm fine," Len said, waving a hand limply, "lying back…is fine. Just remind me not to do that again. Come here…"

Obligingly, Barry slithered up Len's body between his legs until their faces were parallel again, Barry's still clothed erection pressing purposely along Len's naked skin.

"Take your pants off…now," Len ordered him, gruff and breathy and fuck, it made Barry's hands start to vibrate again. "Slowly…" Len added, sliding his own hands between them so he could grasp Barry's and still them until the tremors stopped.

As slow as he could, keeping his eyes on Len, Barry lifted up, letting his knees rest on the cushion between Len's thighs so he could reach down and pull the sweatpants off. He expected Len to do something about it as soon as the sweats were kicked to the floor, but instead he ran his hands up Barry's stomach and across his pecks, down his shoulders, his sides, around his back, and then used that new grip to jerk him down into a sudden, harsher kiss.

This was what Barry loved about Len, he thought—how he could be gentle but also rough, sweet but also fierce, redeemable…but still Cold. That's what Barry held now: everything this man could be.

The moment Barry sank down into Len, and their slick, naked cocks slid past each other—skin on skin—for the first time, Barry felt his whole body speed up. He vibrated down to the tips of his toes, even his tongue as it coiled with Len's within their kiss. He worried it was too much, too strange, but Len panted and groaned and murmured barely coherent up at him.

"Barry…fuck, you're…you're amazing, shit…shit, yes…keep doing that, I…I…"

Barry slid a shaking hand to their cocks and wrapped his long fingers around them both. Len cried out, his hips stuttering sharp and fast and he was coming, adding a new wetness to their skin that was hot and silky, and only urged Barry on.

Len urged him too, his voice raspy and breathless. "Ngnn…yeah, Barry, come on…come on, kid, come for me…"

Barry moaned now, the sound of Len's voice more than he would ever need to get off. But he wasn't there yet, not quite, and just as he thought he'd have to beg Len to touch him, the other man did just that. He pushed Barry's hand away, replacing it with his own. All at once, Barry seemed to still, his vibrations tapering off to better feel Len's hand, Len's fingers curling possessively around him.

"Short-comings, my ass," Len groaned. Then his voice shifted, demanding, "Wait, wait…flip us over again, fast."

Barry didn't need to be asked twice. He flashed them back to the way they had been when this started, Barry laid back toward his end of the sofa, Len stop him, his grip on Barry lost for a moment in the whirlwind, but as soon as he regained his bearings, he took Barry in hand again.

They'd made a mess of the couch and each other, but Barry didn't care. Len was sat on his hips, his own still semi-hard cock resting heavy on Barry's thigh, while he began to slowly stroke Barry.

A wicked grin spread over his face as he shifted positions, moving his legs back off of Barry and using his free hand to nudge Barry's knee. Barry thought he understood and pulled his knees up so that his feet were flush on the sofa.

While Len stroked Barry with one hand, he swirled the other through the mess on his own stomach, slowly, teasingly over the tightly corded muscle, gathering as much of the wetness there as he could, before reaching for Barry's balls beneath the base of his cock and sliding them smooth and easy to his entrance.

Oh yes, Barry thought, that was exactly what he wanted. He was no stranger to the sensation when he touched himself, slipping in a finger or two, even three when the mood struck. The thought of Len's fingers there made him moan before the first digit even pressed to the tight ring of muscle and slipped inside.

"Yeah...yeah…" Barry moaned.

"You like that?" Len whispered huskily, eyes dark and dancing.

Barry nodded, biting his lip. It wasn't supposed to be this easy the first time with someone new. It wasn't supposed to be this hot, this mind-numbing, but then, Barry supposed, nothing about this was anything he would have expected a week ago.

He felt so open having first watched Len's release. The single digit wasn't quite enough, so he kept nodding, nodded frantically.

"Tell me what you want, Barry," Len prompted him.

"More…"

The second finger was a perfect burn. Len's right hand had slowed somewhat, moving languidly over Barry's cock in time with the twisting, come-hither thrusts of his fingers. Then he started picking up speed, and it amazed Barry that he didn't do the same. He felt stilled and at peace in that moment with Len's hands on him and in him, looking at him like he wanted to devour him whole, and Barry couldn't imagine anything better. He had never felt so wanted.

Faster. Faster. The tip of a third finger. And Barry came, Len's name on his lips and stars behind his eyes. His pulse had to be at emergency room level for any normal person. In the aftermath he actually pulsed out one final rush of vibrations like an all over shudder, and moaned loudly at the ceiling.

Len collapsed forward onto his chest, rumbling pleasant laughter. Barry hugged him there for a moment, held him, before the stickiness between them started to make him squirm.

"Just…a second," Barry huffed.

And in a second, maybe closer to ten, Barry had cleaned them both and positioned them so that they could lie beside each other tucked into the sofa together.

Len blinked awareness after a moment, noticing the change, and chuckled again. "Well aren't you handy," he said.

"I think you were more the handy one a minute ago," Barry snickered.

Len looked at him and laughed full out, the smile lighting up his face in an expression that, for a brief moment, held nothing but bliss.

Barry snuggled Len's side, having placed himself on the inside of the sofa so he was the more squished of the two across the narrow cushions. He didn't mind; he liked the close comfort, the heat and skin where they connected all the way down their clean but still sweat-slicked bodies.

After a few moments, Len said, "You know…I lost my virginity to a boy like you."

"Really?"

"Yeah…tall, lanky, not this firm," he said, tugging Barry close with the arm that was wrapped around his back over his shoulder, and running the other hand along Barry's chest, "this…well-muscled, but all limbs and dimples."

Barry felt himself blush. The muscled part was newer for him, since becoming The Flash, but the rest he had never considered things someone would admire in him. He let his head rest on Len's shoulder. "How old were you?"

"Twenty-two," Len answered plainly.

"Really?" Barry lifted his head to gape at him.

Len raised an eyebrow. "That surprising?"

Several of Barry's insecurities suddenly faded. "More like…refreshing. I guess I wasn't expecting it."

"How old were you?" Len asked.

Barry dropped his head back onto Len's shoulder so he wouldn't see him cringe. "Sixteen. And it was a huge mistake. Not the right girl, or the right time. I didn't sleep with another person until I was almost twenty," he huffed at the memory. "Which…also a huge mistake. I have a terrible track record for liking the wrong people."

"You think so, huh?" Len said, but there was a smile in his voice.

Barry blinked over at him, meeting bright, sparkling blue. "Maybe I'm getting better at it," he smiled. "But you remember that, huh? Your first time?"

Len's smile dropped, and for a moment Barry thought there was a shadow behind his eyes, something dark and regretful. "Yeah…"

"Remember anything else?" Barry prompted. He didn't want Len thinking that was a bad thing. Clearly, it wasn't, if they had gotten this far.

Len looked up at the ceiling. "No…"

It didn't seem the right answer, but Len sounded sad now, and Barry didn't want their last moments before they succumbed to sleep to be sad.

He reached for Len's face, and when Len looked at him, moisture filled his eyes, like a dozen emotions was roiling through him at once. So Barry kissed him, hoping to quell the storm. It was chaste and simple—sweet. A press of lips, so different from what they'd just shared, but maybe even more intimate.

Len sighed against Barry's lips when they parted.

"I'm glad you're here," Barry said. It was silly, too dismissive a statement, not nearly enough to encompass what Barry really meant, how he felt. He fell hard and fast whenever he wanted someone, but this was a new record, especially where successes were concerned. Still, he really meant those words.

It must have been enough for Len, at least, the very right words, because a tear streaked down his cheek before he pressed his lips to Barry's again. "Me too."

When Barry roused the second time, it was from a sense of cold, of absent heat rather, and he rolled over in search of it and almost toppled onto the floor. He awoke just in time to catch himself, gasping awake from being so startled.

He was still naked, not even covered by the blanket that had probably fallen off…assuming they'd even managed to pull it over themselves before falling asleep. He couldn't actually remember. He grinned as the previous night washed over him.

Len must have gone to the bathroom, which was probably a good thing, because now that Barry thought of it, he really needed to pee himself, and he needed to check the clock. If he didn't take care of the camera footage in time, Cisco and Caitlin were in for a very rude awakening. Maybe he could save the footage onto his phone for…personal viewing later. He snickered at the thought.

Standing up with a long stretch, he scratched his nails back through his hair. He felt more relaxed and happy than he had in longer than he cared to remember.

"Len!" he called. "Do you know what time it is? I don't think we want to be like this when Caitlin and Cisco show up." He laughed a little to himself. "I just hope Cisco wasn't proactive about watching any footage this morning."

He blinked around the room. The lights were on, probably from Len getting up. But as the moments stretched on, Barry focused on the exit to the bathroom. Len hadn't responded.

"Len!" he called again, louder, wondering if maybe the man had decided to shower already.

A small, troubled feeling in the pit of his stomach curdled with the answering silence.

"Len?" Barry spun around. The lounge, the whole area felt eerily quiet.

As always, he could see the labs from the lounge through the glass walls. He peered more closely, searching, trying to make sense of the panic that was building. The main room was a ways away, but close enough that he could clearly see…that the Cold gear was no longer piled up neatly where they had left it. And the terminals, the screens, everything…was covered in ice.

Barry whirled back around, his gut clenching, twisting, eyes darting around the room, not believing what he'd just seen, seeking out some sign, any sign that Len was still here. He had to be…

Instead, Barry's gaze fell upon a note left in the middle of the coffee table.

A howl erupted as he reacted at lightning speed, moving so fast in his fury that no normal human eyes could have caught him as he slammed his fists down into the glass with such momentum that it shattered. The deafening crash of broken glass filled the room, too loud even tumbling into carpet.

Barry's hands shook, stuck with glass and bleeding, hot tears streaking down his face as he snarled down upon the note lying amidst the broken remnants of the coffee table.

Thanks for the ride, Scarlet.

TBC...