Iris was standing at the sink in the loft, washing dishes, when a whoosh of air, accompanied by the crackle of blue lightning, fillied her dim-lit kitchen. "Savitar," she said, voice calm, not even bothering to turn around. "What brings you here?"

"You, of course."

He walked towards her, the tapping of his boots filling the silence.

When she turned to face him, there was a seductive look in his eye that made her heart flutter with danger.

Barry was out there, in the line of fire, being the selfless hero that he was; meanwhile, there stood Savitar, who was selfish in every single way, especially when to their romantic exploits. Since Barry and Iris had made him a semi-regular fixture in their —ahem her — sex life, they'd definitely had to jump over a few hurdles.

Savitar's bedside manners weren't anywhere near where needed to be.

He had a deeply possessive spirit, always hogging Iris's time, never wanting to give Barry a turn. Things had got so bad, she had had to stop starting with him, because by the time they'd be finished, her legs would be putty, and she'd have no energy left for Barry. In hindsight, she was pretty sure that had been his MO from the jump.

Typical.

If that wasn't bad enough — and it was — he'd also sleep in the middle of the bed with his back turned to Barry to block him from sharing the post-sex cuddles. Which was something that Iris had had to shut down rather quickly, though also delicately.

Savitar's emotional stability constantly waned and waxed, and Iris never knew what might set him off. Needless to say, when she had sat him down about threesome etiquette, he'd been less than receptive, though he'd finally agreed to play along.

"Barry isn't home right now," Iris said, attempting to head off his attempt at seducing her. He'd had allowed her to explore her sexual fantasies of having both him and Savitar, but he'd made it clear that solo sessions were a no-go. If he ever found out that Savitar regularly popped in on Iris on her off days, he'd blow a gasket.

"Screw him."

Savitar He flopped down on the kitchen stool, folded his arms, and crossed his right leg over his left, in a very childlike display of disapproval.

Iris couldn't help but chuckle.

"Do I amuse you?" He'd growled, cutting his eye back in her direction.

Iris rolled her eyes, not at all fazed by his mood. "Chill. Out."

"No, tell me. Why should I give a fuck about care about what Barry wants?"

"Maybe because that's my husband and I have to respect his wishes?" She asked, knowing he was smarter than this.

"And what I am?"

"A man who should be grateful I let him back into my life after all the terror he caused."

She glared at him, unrelenting. Direct.

Savitar tried to hold her gaze, but he faltered with with sigh. She'd forever hold his past misdeeds against him. "Fine, Iris. I'll play nice."

"Thank you," Iris said, face softening. "It'll be better for all involved. You know how Barry gets."

Savitar's eyes rolled around and around in his head. "Newsflash: I'm not here to play by Barry's rules.."

Iris started to deride him for being so stubborn, but he cut her off. "But," he continued, "I know the depth of your love or that annoying do-gooder and that staying in his good graces means staying in yours, my love."

His tone contained the usual abrasiveness that always came when he mentioned Barry. They had both come a long way, but his hatred for him would never be fully extinguished.

And Iris, she didn't know if Savitar even could love anymore.

There were consequences from rolling in darkness for so long. But she knew that he cared for her and calling her "love" was his own weird way of showing it. It was made more special by the fact that he only ever said it when Barry wasn't around. And that it usually accompanied, a boy-ish glint –- some would say of insecurity in his eyes, as if he was worried this would be the day she told him to stop.

"Then how about you play by my rules," she asked, turning to face him.

Savitar scoffed, but decided to humor her. "Shoot."

"Basically, just top insulting Barry and taking over when he's home. He comes first, he always has—he always will."

Iris let her words out, carefully, knowing that last line would cut him. But it needed to be said. But he brushed off the sting of her words, deciding that he'd ponder over them later, in the privacy of whatever empty building he'd make his lair for the evening. Deciding to not waste this private moment between them, he stepped to her., "Well, he's not home now," Savitar said, pressing his body into hers.

Before she knew it, he had his tongue pressed flat against her neck.

Iris inhaled, taking in his scent. He smelled like salty ocean water and fresh crisp coastal air. When he wasn't being a reluctant hero, he was down on some beach somewhere, taking in the sea's charm.

Iris let out a breathy moan, in response to Savitar's forwardness. She secretly loved when he came onto her, but she knew they could only go so far. Still, his hands started to creep up her dress and Iris pulled away. "Barry would kill us both, Savitar."

He laughed, hauntingly. "I'd like to see him try."

"Sav," she started, but he kissed her and cut her train of thought. Before her body could fully register his lips on hers, he was gone, the only evidence that he'd been there the slickness that was pooling in between her legs.

A moment later, another gust of wind entered the room, this time accompanied by orange lightning. "Hey baby," Barry said, jovially. He walked right up to her, his arms wide open.

"Barry," Iris said, slightly shaken, returning his hug. "I missed you."

Over her shoulder, she saw her other speedster, leaned against the wall, a satisfied smirk resting on his face.