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Nev's PolyaMorous Muse

WRITTEN IN A FLASH

Nev

nevcolleil: writer



Oscar Wilde said: "To most of us the real life is the life we do not lead." This is my 'real life' via LJ.

WRITTEN IN A FLASH

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kitties: gimme!
My latest obsession: Barry Allen/Eddie Thawne.

But somehow almost everything I've written in The Flash fandom so far has been about Barry/anybody but Eddie :p I've gotta fix that.

In the meantime, here are the things I've posted lately:

Barry Allen/Harrison Wells


Paradigm Shift
Originally here: comment_fic

When he set upon this undertaking... not the lab or its works, but the cause for which he fights in secret... Harrison had understood that to change the future would require sacrifice... discipline. A certain ruthless precision.

What Harrison hadn't considered was how his aims might change... once he met Barry Allen.

It isn't enough, now, to harness the Flash's power.

It isn't enough to gain his allegiance.

Harrison has tasted Barry's devotion.

All the lying, the killing... was to gain him the world.

And all he wants is the kid who was going to help him rule it.



Cell Test
Originally at: comment_fic

"What are you doing?!"

"Protecting you, Barry. All I have ever done has been to protect you."

This is the true test of what he's accomplished, these past two years. It isn't enough that Barry sees him as a mentor - a voice of reason. It's not enough to be his friend. Carefully thought-out Christmas gifts and the knowledge that his voice in Barry's earpiece will be heeded with regard will not achieve Harrison's aims - not completely.

Even the interest he'd begun seeing in Barry's eyes long before he decided to test and prove the promise of it - the way Barry leans into his touch now, seeks it out... The sex is an unexpected benefit of the path Harrison's chosen to meet his goals, not the means of acquiring those goals in itself.

What Harrison needs - what he must have - is Barry's devotion. Beyond affection, above allegiance, more binding than his loyalty or even the first stirrings of love...

Harrison must know that Barry will heed his calls, wherever they lead... that Barry's regard will not diminish as Harrison guides him through the treacherous landscape that is their future.

Harrison must know that all of the tutelage, the camaraderie, the service and the seduction he's poured into Barry's careful molding have yielded a lasting champion of his cause.

"But..."

"Do you trust me, Barry?"

The body that lies between them is still warm. The gun in Harrison's hand is literally smoking. The CCPD will be pouring into this room in moments.

Harrison can see that Barry is torn - his eyes flicker from the blood-splattered floor, to the doorway behind him, to Harrison, impossibly fast - but that is alright. Barry doesn't always have to like following his lead - not yet. The first step is to get him to choose it.

The next time Barry's eyes land on Harrison, they don't skitter immediately away, as they had at first - like Barry couldn't quite reconcile the sight of him in this violent context.

And when they land, they aren't filled with nearly as much fear and confusion as they are with pleas - pleas to Harrison, for guidance.

"Harry..."

It's actually rather easy for Harrison to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. Even with Barry's eyes, that quiet breath of Harrison's name - only Barry calls him by it, and only ever in that tone - this is a risk.

"Barry, do you trust me?" Harrison insists.

Barry stares. Harrison licks his lips, swallows back the demand for Barry's will.

"Barry, if you don't think I'm right," Harrison offers, in his calmest and most rational of voices, even as his heart begins to race, "...leave."

The look of utter dismay on Barry's shocked face is soothing just a bit.

"Harry, no-"

"I wouldn't let this man hurt you, and I won't let his death hurt you either. Everything else can sort itself out. You have to be safe."

Barry remains torn. Harrison closes his eyes and considers the possibility of his failure.

"Barry, if you don't trust me, just-"

Harrison feels wind on his face, and when he opens his eyes, he is back in his room at the lab.

When he opens his eyes, he is in a whole new world.

Barry is kneeling at his feet, hands on the rests of Harrison's chair.

"What-"

"Of course, I trust you, Harry," Harrison hears, but Barry is already moving, lips on Harrison's own before Harrison can respond. "You can't ask me to just leave you..." Barry's words and eyes are insistent when he pulls back to speak.

He isn't torn anymore. Not about this.

He's made his choice... whether he realizes it or not.

Harrison presses a gentle hand to Barry's face in genuine appreciation. He lets the affection behind his smile shine off of every muscle in his face.

He hides the triumph until Barry leans into him again, and lets it curl the corners of his lips as he meets Barry in another kiss.

It's just the first of many.



Secret
The Flash, Barry Allen/Harrison Wells: Secret

The kid's little crush is hardly secret.

It's flattering.

Useful.

Luckily, Harrison's much better at hiding things.


Barry Allen/Leonard Snart (Captain Cold)


Dead Winter
Originally at: comment_fic
AO3

The blast hits him from the right, instantly seizing every muscle and tendon from shoulder to hip. At the speed Barry was moving, it's like hitting a wall - an icy, unforgiving wall - and Barry isn't really sure why he doesn't shatter against it. The cold burns. Barry screams and screams, tumbling end over helpless, cold-deadened end, in too much pain even to try and alter the violent trajectory of his tumble.



He ends up draped over something hard and angular - a bench, he realizes, when he can recover himself enough to look, to think. He's sitting in Central City park - lying, really, across one end of the bench - in an almost upright position, like a limp doll some careless child has abandoned or tossed away.



Barry looks back, over his frost-charred shoulder, to see the wreckage his body has left in its wake - a broken fence, a few cracked tree limbs. The ground is scarred; big gauges disturb the otherwise pristine green of the park's meticulously-kept hills. Barry's not looking to inspect the damage, however. He's waiting. Watching for the man who did this to him. He tries to pull himself up, off the bench, but collapses with a shriek when the slightest movement proves too painful to manage. Barry nearly passes out from the agony. He hears a screech of tires and knows he won't be fast enough, this time, to escape.



Eventually, Leonard Snart appears over the hill, walking cheerfully around the ruins of an old tree without a second glance, as if it had always been there. He grins at Barry with a wide, almost unhinged grin, his cold gun hanging casually from his shoulder.



Barry watches him approach with horror and dread, sure he's projecting every ounce of fear he feels.



"Well, well, well... Look what the cold blew in," Snart practically sings as he approaches the bench, his usual monotone replaced by a voice of pure satisfaction.



Barry wants to throw up, but he can't be sure whether that's from the pain or the thought that he's given Snart this pleasure.



Captain Cold nearly skips when he makes it to Barry's side, playfully sliding into the bench and up to Barry. From a distance, if not for Barry's mask, Snart's gun, and the scream Barry unleashes when Snart tugs his body closer, it would look like they were a couple, cuddling here in the dark in front of the lake.



"Hey, baby," Snart mocks, in a perversion of the type of greeting lovers exchange in this spot every day. He even goes so far as to press a split-second kiss on the corner of Barry's bloodied lips. "Thanks for meeting me here."



It's the worst nightmare Barry would have had if he'd ever imagined something this horrifying. He's fought bad guys - so many bad guys. Guys so big or so strong or so unnatural that they could crush Snart with one hand, fry him with a glance. But Barry's never fought someone as dangerous as Snart - because Snart is the cruellest, the coldest, man Barry has ever met.



He doesn't want to hurt Barry because he just likes hurting people - or because Barry is in his way. He sought Barry out this time - has always sought Barry after that first time. He wants to hurt Barry to hurt Barry, and that is a terrifying concept.



And Barry is completely at his mercy. Barry doesn't know how Snart jammed the mic in his mask, but it went out the second before Snart hit him with the cold gun. Nobody knows what's happened to Barry, and he has no way to tell them.



Whatever Snart plans to do to him - and the sick glee in Snart's dark eyes as he curiously inspects Barry's frostbitten right side says there is no limit to what he might plan to do to Barry - what can Barry do about it?



Barry grits his teeth against his panic, and forces his voice not to quiver as he says, "Congratulations, Snart. You got me. Real fucking accomplishment, using a weapon you didn't even create."



Snart's smile doesn't dim.



And Barry isn't sure what he's more afraid of - that Snart will listen to him... or that he won't, as Barry says, "Just kill me already so you can go back and brag to all your scumbag friends."



"Oh, Flash..." Snart tsks, in the perfect imitation of a sympathetic voice. "Why would I want to kill you, now that I've caught you?" He doesn't reach to take off Barry's mask; he doesn't ask who's under it. He doesn't even care. "You have an uncanny way of not dying when I hurt you."



Snart's eyes flash and his lips curl. "We're going to explore that."



Then Snart throws one arm over Barry's shoulders and settles Barry more fully against his side. He turns his eyes to the lake and the skyline beyond, completely ignoring the way Barry screams again, then whimpers, as he's moved.



"But first, how about you and I watch the sun rise, hmm? We've got a long day ahead of us... and it's a beautiful night."





Seduction
Originally at: comment_fic

He's not really sure how it happens - the kid's a menace, a thorn in Cold's side, a stumbling block, and he's got only one way of handling obstacles in his way - but he tries that, he actually tries, and he fails; Cold can't remember the last time something as simple as just killing someone has given him such a challenge.

More than that, the kid is clearly afraid of him, and yet, everywhere he goes, the Flash is there - smirking or shouting or even trying to reason with him (which is fucking adorable) - retreat doesn't seem to occur to this guy, no matter how bad the cold hurts him.

If he didn't know better... Cold would think that the kid was having fun, chasing him out of his city, time and time again; "I think I'm in love," he drawls in the kid's ear, as they wrestle for his gun, and when he sees what's visible of Flash's face beneath the mask turn pink he laughs out loud.



Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway
Originally: at comment_fic
AO3

After the first few times they'd faced off, Barry dreamt of a scenario similar to this. Snart smirking down at him, as he had that day on the train ("Does your mom know you're out past your bedtime?") his cold eyes lit with some heat Barry hadn't wanted to think about. Being at Snart's mercy.



Barry couldn't have imagined that the scene would ever go this far - to where he's not only helpless at Cold's demanding hands, but naked, and stretched out just like Snart wants him.



Barry had once had nightmares that someday Cold would get close enough to him to make him scream again, as he had that first day - in the gallery - in pain. But when he throws back his head now and shouts, words gasp-like and shaky, barely intelligible, it's nothing like he had dreamt.



"Had enough, kid?" Snart says, dark monotone cut - as it always is with Barry (and only Barry) by something almost playful, curious. "You know what kind of damage too much cold can do." There's something satisfied and proud in the curl of his lips. 'I taught you that,' he doesn't have to say.



"I can take it... Come on..."



"Your choice," Cold seems to take pleasure in saying, and he lifts the cold cell in his gloved hand, trailing it almost lovingly down Barry's right side, from clavicle to hip. Every inch of skin that the tiny generator touches turns pale, and then red... and then purple, and Barry writhes, moans, with the biting cold.



He should be concerned that Cold will let his hand linger in one place for too long and really hurt Barry. He should definitely worry about the way Snart watches Barry's skin blister and then slowly heal. But none of this is about what Barry should. The devil's deal that led him here was based on a lot of things - fear, hope. But if 'should' had had a part in it, Barry would probably fear the drowsy give that seeps further and further into his bones with every brush of Cold's twisted little toy against his body.



Snart barely waits for Barry's flesh to turn back to a healthy color - Barry's still shaking from the cold, feeling the pins and needles of it, when Snart closes his mouth over one of Barry's pebbled nipples and sucks - hard - his lips like flames against Barry's nearly frostbitten skin.



Barry howls, pain and pleasure tugging Barry back and forth between them as he pants, waiting for one to get the upper hand.



"That good, huh?" Cold teases, chuckling quietly against Barry's oversensitive skin.



When Barry opens his mouth to speak, Cold presses the cold cell firmly to the inside of Barry's thigh.



He takes advantage of Barry's scream to nibble at the arch of Barry's throat, before crawling over Barry's body and capturing that scream with his mouth, licking and biting at Barry's lips.



Barry hardly notices the sound of Cold tossing the cold cell onto the bedside table. He keeps their mouths locked as he tugs off his glove, and then both of his hands are on Barry - one gripping Barry by the nape of his neck, holding him still, while the other reaches down and grabs Barry's leg under the knee, pulling it up and over his hip as Cold settles in between Barry's thighs.



His hip rubs against the cold burn on the inside of Barry's left thigh as they grind together, and Barry hisses into their kiss - then whimpers when Snart grabs onto Barry's leg, tight, and won't let him pull away.



"One day, kid... One day, you and I are really going to play," Cold says against one corner of Barry's lips, sounding the closest to feeling real passion as he ever does while he works his way into Barry.



Barry shivers at the thought - or maybe just the residual cold left in his flesh by Cold's toy. His pulse leaps, too, and he can't quite cut off the moan that bubbles up from the back of his throat.



It's easier not to think when he's got Snart here like this - smooth, hard muscles shifting under Barry's palms as he moves over Barry's body - putting his energy into hurting Barry the way Barry wants to be hurt... instead of into hurting innocent people.



"Bring it on," he pants weakly against the curve of Cold's shoulder, pressing his face to the surprising heat of Cold's body.



Snart's laugh sounds suspiciously genuine, not that he laughs long. Barry may crave the slow aching pleasure that Cold's rough, precise touch can give him, but the need for speed that's practically become his second skin never really peels away. Throwing his other leg over Cold's hip as well, Barry drags their bodies completely together in one seamless slide, the piercing burn of it fading quickly, and Snart's first deep moan of the evening his reward.



"You asked for it," Cold warns, in the tone that Barry has learned to recognise as happy.




Red Handed

Just because Leonard's somehow found himself dating a cop's kid - who is basically a cop himself - doesn't mean he's gone soft. He's having fun is all. The kid is fun. He's funny. He's hot. The sex is fucking ridiculous. Leonard's never let a cop stand between him and something he wants before; he's not about to start now.

So he stares sometimes. No one's ever looked back at him, when he's touched them, like Barry looks at him. Like Leonard's doing Barry a favor by letting the kid return the favor.

It makes Leonard sorta crazy. Crazy enough to do shit like take him home - to Leonard's actual home. Shit like staying the night with Barry after they've had sex.

Then there's the hand holding.

He's pretty sure he started it. He knows, because he looked up the first time they'd done it - he'd only realized Barry's hand was in his after he'd been holding it long enough that his palm was too warm - and Barry was looking at him again.


He scowled. He said, "What the fuck are you doing to me, kid?"

But Barry grinned like Leonard had stolen him the whole fucking world, and Leonard didn't let go.


Testing

"Wait. Are those... hickies?"

"I wish," Barry says without thinking, pulling his suit top down as Caitlyn finishes her examination. The curve of her smile tells him he brought this on himself when Cisco pipes in from across the room: "You wish Captain Cold had given you hickies?"

"What- No!" Barry yells. But his face is red, and he can hear the laughter in Cisco's voice as he keeps on. "Hey, man, if you and Cold have got something going on, you should just tell us. We'll stop trying so hard to lock him up in the Pipeline. Maybe. Unless you two are into that."

"That... thing he's been shooting at me," Barry bothers attempting to explain, thinking about the modified taser-like weapon Cold wields now - it shoots multiple, nitrogen-laced barbs simultaneously. "It leaves marks," Barry says, knowing even as he does that's just going to make things worse.

"Barry... isn't calling it his 'thing' a little high school?" Caitlyn gleefully teases, as Cisco crackles in the background.

"I hate you guys so hard," Barry says, as the jokes keep coming.

He blames them for putting the idea in his head when he and Cold tangle next, and all Barry can think about is what it'd be like if Snart ever stopped trying to kill him and kissed him instead.

He's sure it's something in his face - the part of it visible beneath his mask - that makes Cold stop and stare at him in the midst of their struggle.

"You know, kid... if I didn't know better," Snart says, "I'd think you enjoy this."

And in an unprecedented example of bad timing, Cisco says (apparently not realizing that Cold is near enough to Barry - lying on top of him, actually, as Barry simultaneously vibrates barbs out of his skin and tries to wrestle Cold's taser away from him - that Snart can hear Cisco snort through Barry's earpiece, "Because he does."

Cold's eyes light up. It's a scary thing to see.

At least... Barry thinks that's fear he feels, chasing the adrenaline up his spine.

"Does he?" Cold asks, pressing his lips to the side of Barry's cowl, directly over his ear. Even though Barry can't feel Cold's lips, through the headset and his uniform, he shivers.

"Holy shit!" Barry thinks he hears Cisco yelp, but he's a little distracted.

Because Cold is saying, "Let's test that, shall we?"

And then Cold kisses him.

It's not like it goes much further than that, before Joe and Eddie show up and Snart runs off (and the fact that Barry lets him, scorching hot kisses aside, is something that Barry will worry about later.) But Barry still gets the impression that he's scarred Cisco, and when he gets back to Star Labs he knows it.

Cisco's been oddly quiet in Barry's ear ever since that first kiss. And apparently he hasn't been talking to Caitlyn either, because when Caitlyn gives Barry his customary once-over, she sees Barry's neck and says, "Oh my god! Barry!" Then, before Barry can panic, thinking she's found something wrong with him that he wasn't aware of: "Cold shot you in the neck? Cisco didn't tell me! That must have been awful!"

Barry slaps a hand over the large, dark hickie right on the side of his neck as Caitlyn leans in to see it closer and Cisco wails, "You have no idea!" from wherever he's hidden himself in the lab.



Barry Allen/Eddie Thawne


Holding Hands

It seems more significant than it probably should - the grasp of a strong, gentle hand.

Not being able to feel Eddie's when Joe's looking probably has something to do with that.

So does the fact that, somehow, Eddie's hand wrapped around his own... is the only thing that can make Barry feel content to be when he's not running.



Three (Barry Allen/Iris West/Eddie Thawne)

As Iris sleeps, her head on Barry's chest, her soft breaths tickle his chest. Eddie holds them both from Barry's other side, pressed hard and hot against Barry's hip. Barry's not sure why the three of them work better than any pair of them did (they've tried them all.) But for once Barry doesn't question, just lets it be.



Eyes Like A Trigger (RATED R)
AO3

A year ago, if you'd told him that a tough-as-nails detective - so hot the squad guys used to call him "Detective Pretty Boy" - would one day be here with Barry like this, shoving Barry down onto his back on a bed that isn't his, lips curved in a dirty promise, blue eyes like a trigger on Barry's naked body, setting off all sorts of reactions... Barry wouldn't have believed it.



Of course, a lot of unbelievable things have happened to Barry in the past year.



This thing with Eddie isn't even the most incredible - at least not while Barry is here, where he can feel the truth of it; where Eddie nudges Barry's feet apart and then kneels in-between. Eddie climbs up to Barry on his knees, walking his hands along Barry's body the whole time - squeezing Barry's ankles, rubbing Barry's calves, exploring Barry's thighs - spreading Barry's legs further open around himself as he goes.



It's like Eddie knows how his slow touches tease the energy always strumming now just under Barry's skin - how it's a kind of sweet torture to hold Barry here like this and make him wait to get Eddie just where he wants him.



Only practice, a lot and a lot of practice - back from before Barry had this, when he was pretty hopeless that he would ever get close to having it - keeps Barry from coming at least twice by the time Eddie settles his body on top of Barry's. Eddie's eyes are like a hand themselves, and they grip every inch of Barry that they touch.



Not to mention that, if Eddie Thawne is "pretty" with his clothes on... then he's a freaking masterpiece when he's naked, and he feels like art looks when he stretches out on top of Barry like this, so that Barry can feel every part of him at once - every part. Barry groans like he's dying, but he's learned how Eddie wants this to work, so he doesn't move his hands from beside his head to touch without Eddie's cue.



His reward is one of Eddie's brightest smiles, and then Eddie kisses him with all of the lack of restraint that had been missing from his slow progress up Barry's body - deep and fast and hungry. It's a kiss like a case of whiplash, strong enough to lay Barry up for an hour - and for Barry, an hour is an eternity.



This is Barry's cue, and he moans as he takes it. He runs his hands down Eddie's strong back, slower than Barry does most anything these days, too greedy for the smooth skin under his fingertips - stretched over cords of muscle that make Barry's mouth go dry - to go fast.



Then Barry hums as Eddie moves their kiss away from his mouth, lips hard but careful as he nips and sucks his way along Barry's jaw, down the arch of Barry's neck. Barry's fingers stop and dig into the small of Eddie's back as Eddie cocks his head and opens his mouth around Barry's adam's apple, biting down gently but firmly on the most delicate part of Barry's throat. Barry rolls his hips too, unable to stop himself, growing exponentially harder at the strangely feral (read: hot) move.



Eddie meets Barry hips in a roll of his own and groans so deep and so low he might as well be growling. Barry tries but fails not to whimper, grabbing onto Eddie's ass - suddenly all about anything but slow - and Eddie chuckles against Barry's collarbone.



"Fuck, Barry," Eddie drawls in his sultry voice. "I knew I should have had you suck me first to take the edge off."



For some guys, that would be a douche thing to say, but Eddie is smiling cheekily down at Barry as he says it, eyes soft, and then he places a sweet kiss on Barry's lips.



"First of all," Barry says, pausing between words to kiss his own trail down the side of Eddie's face - across his stubbled cheek, his strong jaw, the slope of his throat, "'Fuck Barry sounds like a plan to me." Eddie huffs out a laugh that turns dirty when Barry nips at a spot that always gets to him.



"And second...," Barry continues, grinning up at Eddie. "That can still be arranged."



This time, Eddie laughs for real as Barry grabs onto Eddie's hips and uses just a smidge of his speed to flip them. Enough that he doesn't give himself away, but that he can successfully reverse his position with Eddie's without hurting himself.



"I will never figure out how you do that," Eddie chuckles, missing the momentary dimming of Barry's smile as Barry hides what's left of it in a kiss.



"Physics," Barry mostly lies, stopping Eddie's laughter with a kiss to the center of his chest, wriggling his nose at the tickle of Eddie's chest hair.



How something can tickle and turn him on at the same time is what Barry will never figure out - one of many mysteries wrapped up in this man Barry hadn't caught himself wanting until suddenly he was needing him like nothing else.



Next Barry stops Eddie's breath, his lips reaching Eddie's navel and his tongue starting to get in on the action as Barry shifts to crouch between Eddie's legs, hands sliding up the insides of Eddie's thighs.



Barry used up most of his patience waiting for Eddie to map the length of him, so he has none left for teasing Eddie in turn. He presses his face into the juncture of Eddie's thigh and torso, kissing the hot flesh there as Eddie bends and spreads his legs. Then he scatters a few more kisses in the places that make Eddie squirm and curse under his breath - the base of Eddie's cock, the swollen sac beneath.



Barry knows that if he looks up and sees Eddie now, Eddie will either be stretched back against his pillows, eyes closed, arms crossed beneath his head, lazily enjoying Barry's attention - or he will be halfway curled up off of his shoulders, so that he can watch Barry work, red-faced with want - Barry's witnessed both reactions before.



He strokes the length of Eddie's cock just once - just because he likes the feel of it - then hollows out his cheeks and sucks Eddie down, wrapping his lips as tightly as he can around as much of Eddie as he can fit in his mouth.



"God, Barry, that's good..."



The praise casts little sparks of pleasure inside of Barry that burn when Eddie's fingers find Barry's head, carding slowly through Barry's hair.



Between his own thighs, Barry's cock feels too full, jerks, and Barry moans around Eddie.



"Fuck, yes... Barry..."



A year ago, if you'd told Barry that one day he'd be knealing here like this, for the guy who had essentially stolen Iris from him while Barry was in his coma... the guy who had the Captain create a task force just for hunting Barry down - He probably would have flipped you off. A lot can happen in a year.



Barry throws himself into pulling as many deep, desperate noises out of Eddie as he can with his mouth, ignoring his own leaking cock as much as possible (Barry doesn't want to rush this. And, apparently, neither does Eddie.)



"Mmmmm, Barry, wait... Wait, Barry. Stop."



Barry knows Eddie's close - his thighs have started to tremble. Seeing the tiny shivers that pull tight in the muscles of Eddie's legs makes Barry pant both in sympathy and because it's unspeakably hot knowing he can make Eddie shake like that.



But Eddie tugs at Barry's hair. And through the haze of lust that a little hair-pulling can apparently send him into, Barry hears Eddie say, "Not yet. Get up here."



Barry moves in a daze, snapping to only when he sees Eddie reach over and grab a jar of lube out of his bedside table - and not just because the muscles in Eddie's sides stretch attractively when he twists.



Barry licks his lips, anticipation and adrenaline zinging through him on a loop, as he realizes what Eddie's planned for tonight.



It's not like it's a surprise. They've done this a couple of times now; Eddie's even hinted that one day they should try it the other way around. (On days they can't be together, Barry's jerked himself nearly raw thinking about it, but he doesn't trust his powers enough yet when it comes to that.)



But Barry had never gone all the way with a man before Eddie, and it's still a new enough thing to him that it scares Barry a little, even though he wants it - and bad - when Eddie looks up at him, uncertain.



"I thought we might-" Eddie starts, eyes reading Barry's reaction; then he changes track, "Hey, Bar, we don't have to, if you don't want to. We could just-"



Barry doesn't let him finish that sentence.



"I want to," he says, surging forward. He pulls Eddie into a kiss with a hand to either side of Eddie's face. "Hell, yes, I want to," he breathes into Eddie's parted lips.



Eddie's arms come up around him, the jar in his hand cold against Barry's back, where it gets trapped between Eddie's hand and him.



"Are you sure?" Eddie asks, so obviously trying not to sound like he's pressuring Barry that Barry grins through their kiss.



Barry straddles Eddie's lap, and Eddie lets him, their mouths joined the whole time. There's more than one way to prove Eddie's misunderstood his anxiousness, Barry figures.



"Yeah, I just get really hot thinking about it," Barry says, smirking at the ways Eddie's eyes widen a little - and darken a lot - at Barry's words.



"Do you?" Eddie drawls, voice going two octaves lower, in a way that makes Barry shiver. "Just imagine what having me inside you is gonna do." And he moves like he's going to lay Barry down again, but Barry holds on and stops him.



"Can you get me ready like this?" Barry asks, liking the idea of Eddie prepping him and holding him at the same time - his legs held open by Eddie's body, straddled beneath him. Eddie gives him another growl-like groan - the best kind of 'yes.'



From the first cool touch of Eddie's thick but gentle fingers behind his balls, to the point that Barry just can't wait anymore - as loose and ready as he has to be - they kiss, one arm each wrapped around the other. Eddie preps Barry with his free hand - slowly working Barry open with one finger, and then two, and then an excruciating three (so much and yet not nearly enough.) With Barry's free hand he touches every part of Eddie he can get to, swallowing Eddie's moans as he reacts to both Barry's touch and the squeeze of Barry's body around his fingers.



Barry isn't exactly quiet himself. He whimpers, he gasps. Eddie knows just how to touch him and where. He says the hottest, filthiest things. He sounds so freaking confident, so in control of what he's doing to Barry - most of the time - but then his voice breaks around a groan when Barry sucks on a sensitive spot behind his ear or scratches at a nipple, and this makes Barry moan loudest of all.



"Holy shit... I gotta be ready now, Eddie," Barry cries out when Eddie brushes his prostrate one time too many, and his cock won't be ignored any longer. "Now! Eddie, now!"



"Jesus, okay... Hold on..."



Eddie eases his fingers out of Barry with a shudder at the sound Barry makes at the loss. Barry is beyond glad that there's no condom to fumble with (they both got tested) because he doesn't think he could wait even a moment more.



"Eddie..."



"Goddamn, Allen," Eddie pants into Barry's shoulder as he doesn't try to lay Barry down again - just grabs him by the ass and lines Barry up with his cock - the name a universal signal that Barry isn't the only one losing patience. Not that Eddie sounds the least bit unhappy about that. "You're killing me."



"I might, if you don't oh god..." Barry babbles, until Eddie has shifted them both into position at last, and pushes in much further than Barry has ever taken him on the first thrust before.



Gravity is a beautiful thing, Barry realizes, thankful he was too needy when he realized they would be trying a position he'd never tried before to worry about the mechanics of it..



"You were saying?" Eddie breathes, kissing just the corner of Barry's mouth, focused on taking Barry apart, obviously, brain cell by brain cell. His voice is a boast, playful like a smile, but Barry figures he's earned the right to brag.



"Yes," Barry moans, burying his face in the curve of Eddie's neck. He can feel the muscles in Eddie's shoulder shift against the side of his face as Eddie fucks up into him. "Just yes." He doesn't suppose it matters that the last part of what he says is too muffled to really make sense.



They move together for what feels like forever and no time at all, Barry relying on instinct and Eddie's reactions to guide his hips. Eddie acts like he can go on forever - like he's the one with the superpower - but Barry knows when he can't take much more.



That energy inside Barry always itching to run wants him to race for his release, to ride Eddie as fast as he can ride him - and that is not how Eddie is going to learn Barry's secret.



Barry starts pushing at Eddie's hands on his hips.



"Harder..."



Eddie wordlessly grips him tight and pulls Barry down, harder, into his thrusts.



"Eddie, harder..."



"I don't want to hurt you," Eddie tells him, voice barely a puff of shallow breath, strain drawing out every word.



"Oh god, please, Eddie-"



"God, yes, there you go, baby..."



Barry's pretty sure that at least his face becomes a blur as he throws back his head and writhes - the orgasm that streaks through him is too powerful to control completely. But luckily Eddie's eyes have fluttered shut by this time, lashes fanned sweetly across the stubbled rise of his cheekbones, mouth open on a wordless cry as he comes right after Barry.



They collapse against one another, in a messy but blissed out pile of sweaty, entwined limbs.



Lying next to Eddie afterward, just watching him breathe - the slow smile that curves Eddie's lips when he drifts back out of the dose he'd drifted into - isn't superspeed... But nothing outside of running makes Barry feel the way he feels when he curls into Eddie's body and Eddie sleepily curls back towards him. Like Barry's been, is headed, and already is exactly where he needs to be. A year ago, before the particle accelerator, before the lightning - before the superpowers - Barry was a scientist. He should probably be picking this apart right now, cataloguing all of the surprising ways in which it works, tracing back it's origins.



But Barry just smiles to himself, and at Eddie, and let's what - thank god - is be.

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