Hello! So, this is a little two-part piece I wrote a while back. A foray into the shared Arrow/Flash universe, because plot points and silliness, and lots of attractive actors. This has some background plot to it, mostly just references to ground it, but otherwise it's a PWP. This is part one, and part two will go up Monday!

Warnings for: graphic (non-penetrative) sex, use of superpowers during sex, and implied/referenced cheating (to be fair, secret identities play havoc with rules). Enjoy!

"Roy, hey!"

"Jesus Christ!"

I nearly put an arrow in the other man. Luckily, probably, he's moving in a flash of yellow lightning and catching the arrow to tuck it back in my quiver before I can find any real words to say. Pausing in the middle of course, just to prove that he's caught the arrow.

He pats me on the shoulder, grinning, and I try really hard not to smack him across the face with my bow. "Good to see you too, buddy." He's bright, and cheerful, and that really has no place on this particular Star City rooftop.

"Flash," I grit out through my teeth, "I'm busy. Surveillance."

"Oh, those guys?" He leans sideways, peering over the rooftop and then giving another bright grin. "Got it. Be right back."

"Wait, don't—" And he's gone. Oh hell. Oliver's gonna kill me. Sighing, I raise my hand to my ear and push the earpiece. "Barry's here."

Across the open line I hear two nearly identical aggravated huffs of breath — Diggles and Oliver — and one squeak of excitement — definitely Felicity — before the super-speed genius, idiot is back in front of me. It's hard to be mad at him when he's got that excited grin and the bright green eyes, and about the most I can bring up is a dull irritation.

"All done," he announces, hands on his hips and head tilted to one side. "Ready for the nearest ride to the police station! Can we get something to eat? Long run from Central."

Well, there goes the last hour of my time down the drain.

"You know," I comment, "we didn't actually want them arrested just yet." In my ear, I can hear Diggle sigh. I can picture his eye roll, and that supremely frustrated look Oliver gets. The one with the pinched lips and the twitchy hands where he's angry, but knows there's no point in saying anything. Or he knows you're right. Thea used to call it the 'bitch face.'

Barry has the decency to look sheepish, wincing and raising his right hand to rub over the back of his neck. "I can go down and let them back out?" he offers, with a shrug and an apologetic smile. "That seems kinda pointless though; I mean I can but obviously now they know something's going on and if I let them out then— I should really just ask first next time shouldn't I?"

"Yeah," I agree, shaking my head and flicking my eyes towards the sky in exasperation. "Probably. So? What do you want?"

"Pizza," Barry answers instantly. "I am so hungry; it was like twenty minutes but that's a long time. Do you want any? I'm gonna grab some." He's gone, and I weather the rush of wind in my face.

"Alright," Diggle says over the coms, "I'm done for the night. See you guys in the morning."

Oliver follows it up with, "I— Just deal with whatever he wants, Roy. I'm heading back to Verdant. Felicity, make the call to the police."

"Will do," she answers. "Say hi to Barry from me, Roy!"

Like he's being summoned by his name, Barry snaps back into view in front of me, buffeting my face with another rush of air and a stack of three pizza boxes in his hands. Not the first time I've seen him just appear with food, and also not the only time I've wondered who was expecting pizzas and didn't get them, or what store he stole them from. You can't make things cook faster by running fast, it doesn't work like that. Someone, somewhere, was looking forward to eating the pizzas he just stole.

"Sure," I say, and then aim, "Felicity says hi," at the nearly bouncing speedster in front of me.

His face lights up a little more, and he rocks up onto his toes. "I'll stop by to see her; promise."

"He'll stop by," I relay, and she makes another of those squeaky, excited noises. I switch off the earpiece, and brace my hand on my hip. Barry's not eating yet, which is a little weird, but he definitely looks like he's all but vibrating with the same excitement as Felicity. "What do you want?" I repeat.

"What, a guy can't run across half a country to hang out with a friend?" I raise an eyebrow, and he shrugs and just grins a little wider. "Okay, so I have questions, and a favor to ask. Can we talk somewhere that isn't a random rooftop? With, you know, chairs or a couch or something?"

"I've got an apartment—" I start, and he almost instantly cuts me off.

"Great! Where is it?"

I pause, sigh, and rattle off the address. Then he's running off again, and I scrub my free left hand over my face. I really wasn't prepared to deal with this tonight. I thought I was going to spend at least another couple hours on the roof watching these guys, chatting with Felicity and Diggle and slowly driving Oliver nuts. I was looking forward to it in a weird way. Then again, hot food and some real sleep sounds good.

I sleep decent these days, actually. Now that I'm not crashing on a glorified air mattress behind a bank of computers that I swear Felicity never leaves. I'm earning enough working for Thea, at Verdant, and Glade apartments are dirt cheap. Especially now, after the Reckoning, and Deathstroke, and Brick. I've got a decent bed and everything, and there's less risk of someone randomly running in and yelling at me to wake up.

Less.

I head for the edge of the rooftop, to climb down and start off on my way to my apartment, and then there's a rush of air, a wrenching sensation, and a couple seconds of sensory input that makes no sense, and I'm standing in the middle of my apartment. Barry is standing in front of me, grinning again, and the sound that leaves my throat is something like a shocked yelp that I strangle back as I recoil and yank my head around to take in the whole room and scan for threats.

The door is closed and locked, the blinds over my windows are shut, and apart from Barry the room is empty.

"Pretty cool, huh?" he says, bursting with pride and with both hands back on his hips.

I shut my eyes and regulate my breathing for a few seconds to calm down, and then tell him,"I can walk."

"Well, yeah, obviously, but you'd take forever. Pizza?"

I think about arguing for a second, but then just shake my head and decide to give it up. "What toppings?" I ask instead, taking another look to make really sure that the blinds on my three long windows are fully closed before moving to set my bow down against the wooden shelving that separates the 'living room' section of my home from the 'bedroom' part, on the bedroom side, and start shedding the weapons off my suit.

"Uh…" There's a flash of lightning. "Looks like standard pepperoni, barbeque chicken, and like, jalapenos, sausage, and mushrooms?" Yeah. The Flash, Central and Star City's resident pizza thief.

"Sure. I'll have some."

I hear the rattle and creak of the springs in my old couch as Barry collapses down into it, and I think he was expecting to bounce or something because he makes a little noise that sounds offended. I roll my eyes, and tug the hood back off of my head before I raise both hands to undo my belt and drop it in the pile of my weapons. After that it's straight to pulling the zipper that starts on the front of my neck down, and peeling the jacket back off my shoulders and off each of my arms.

I've got a black tanktop underneath it — because that thing is uncomfortable after the first hour or so; plus the idea of someone being able to half undress me by just yanking a zipper down isn't fun to think about — but it fits close and comfortable, and the leather pants are a lot less uncomfortable than the jacket so I just leave them on. Also, the pants don't try and overheat and kill me, so there's that.

Plus, my apartment it might be, and Barry's too much of a giant excited puppy to feel real threatened by, but I don't really want to wander around in boxers around him. We're not that close.

Barry's watching me when I turn around, a slice of what I think is the jalapeno-mix pizza in his right hand — both his hands are bare, the gloves slung over the arm of my couch — and his cowl pulled back to rest on his neck. I head over, and he shifts sideways on the couch to give me space to sit down a lot more cautiously than he did. My couch is alright, but it's not bouncy and there's definitely at least one spot near the side he's sitting on where a spring is permanently pushed out. Not through the fabric or cushion, but it's not comfortable and it's a serious, literal, pain in the ass if you sit down and aren't expecting it.

"Got a preference?" I ask, idly rolling my shoulders to work out lingering stiffness.

"What?" He sounds kind of alarmed. I look over, and he's still watching me but he's got a bit of a confused look.

"Pizza. Preference?"

"Oh, yeah, no. Go ahead, I'll eat whatever." I guess when you've gotta eat that much, it doesn't pay to be picky.

I take a slice of the pepperoni, leaning back into the couch and looking over at him. I chew and swallow a first bite before commenting, "So, you said you had questions and a favor. You want to eat first, or…?"

He flushes just a little bit, which is… kinda weird, before nodding and flashing one of those sheepish smiles. "Yeah, if you don't mind?" I shake my head. "Cool."

I let myself relax, finishing off four slices of the pizza while I watch Barry totally demolish the other two and the half I leave over. I kinda thought it would be gross to watch anyone eat that fast, but mostly it's just a bit blurred from the speed and otherwise totally normal.

Never thought I was going to say that it's normal to be sitting on the couch in my apartment in half of a vigilante costume, with a guy dressed head to toe in what looks like red leather that can move faster than jets at the drop of a hat. I thought my life had hit maximum weirdness when I was jacked up on Mirakuru, or when Slade's army mostly took apart the city. But now, with all of these 'metahumans' popping up in Central City?

Life's going to get a whole lot weirder.

Barry dusts his hands off and flips the last pizza box closed, leaning back with not even a trace of the normal 'stuffed' look people get when they're really full. How much can he actually eat? How much does he have to? I know I've heard Felicity talking and there's something about his metabolism making him need to eat a lot more than a normal human, but it was mostly science-babble and honestly I tuned out. Nod and agree is pretty much par for the course.

"Alright," he starts, turning his head to look at me. "So, recently, I picked up this girlfriend. Or she picked me up, I'm not real sure about that."

I snort, and get to my feet, shaking my head again. "Whatever the questions are, you're asking the wrong person," I tell him bluntly, leaning over to pick up the stack of pizza boxes and carry it over towards the tiny corner that could hesitantly be labeled a 'kitchen.' It's got the trash, anyway, and a stove and refrigerator. I brought in the microwave. "My last relationship was with Oliver's sister, and I fucked it up. If you want relationship advice you should ask Diggle."

"Actually," there's an edge to his voice that sounds embarrassed, "I'm not asking for advice." I struggle a bit, the boxes not quite fitting into the trash, and suddenly Barry's next to me, crouching down and pulling the bag out of the can to stretch it open wide enough.

"Then what? Why me, anyway? You've gotta have people in your life it would be way more normal to talk to. I'm half a country away, and we've barely even talked before." He ties the bag shut, and I duck down to grab the roll of bags and snag another, fitting it into the trash.

"Because I'm pretty sure you're not going to laugh at me," he admits, setting the trash bag aside and leaning against the door of the refrigerator. "Caitlyn would be way too embarrassed, Cisco wouldn't stop laughing for weeks, and Dr. Wells might actually be helpful but I just can't talk to him about this." He ticks the three people off on his fingers, and then gives an exaggerated shudder and a wince.

"Just so you know, you sound like you're having problems getting it up."

He flushes, nearly red enough to match his costume, and stutters out a protesting, "N-No! That's not— I can get it up just fine." I roll my eyes and give him a look that's supposed to ask him what the hell he wants from me, and he seems to get it. "Okay, so it's sorta like that. I get—" He cuts off, and restarts, "Things start happening between me and her and I… I sorta lose control of my powers and start vibrating."

I blink. Stare. Blink again. "You what?"

Barry raises his hand to the back of his neck, still flushed red. "I vibrate." I keep staring at him, and he raises his other hand and holds it out. "Like this." There's this blur to his hand, which after a second I realize is from him just moving it back and forth slightly, but way faster than I can track. "But totally out of my control, and it's everything. It's uh… bad, and I really don't know what to do about it. I mean, it doesn't happen when it's just me, so I don't know what's going on, but I've gotta fix this. I really like her, and she's kinda aggressive and really wants me, but I can't really do anything while this keeps happening."

That's…

Okay, and there goes my weird level up another notch. Things about superspeed I didn't ever think about and maybe never wanted to know. Maybe. It's kinda an interesting thought. I wonder what that feels like?

"I still don't think I'm the right person. I mean, what kinda answer do you want? I don't know anything about your powers." I didn't think it was possible for him to get much redder, but he does.

"Yeah, okay, weirder to ask than I thought…" He meets my eyes, swallows hard, and then says something. Whatever it is I have no idea, because it's a rush of syllables that are definitely words, but are way too fast for me to decode and understand them. He seems to wait for an answer, and I tilt my head a bit to the left.

"One more time in English?"

He looks surprised, but then nods and takes in a deep breath. Slowly, carefully saying each word, he asks, "Will you let me practice sex with you so I can figure this out?"

Oh. Oh.

I swallow, stare at him for a second, and then the question really hits me.

I drop my gaze, following the lines of his costume where it presses and clings tightly to his form. I really hadn't looked at Barry like that before. I mean, he was always kinda running around, doing his own thing, or interacting with Felicity or Oliver. Diggle and me were pretty sidelined — even though Barry did make that comment about liking my outfit — and I was really more focused on trying to decide if I should think of Barry as a threat or not. His playful, if kinda arrogant, attitude aside he was something I didn't understand at all. Superspeed. It took me a while to decide that he wasn't going to be a problem.

Well, he is pretty good looking. Kinda geeky, tall and pretty thin, and he hasn't got Oliver's kind of muscle or mine, but he's definitely pretty defined under the suit. It could be interesting, and it's not like he's asking for anything more than sex. No strings attached, right?

I've got no problem with guys. Before Thea I slept with a few of them, casual things that nobody wanted to go any farther than that. I've experimented enough to know I can enjoy myself and be attracted to guys. Not as much as women, usually, but it's still fun. I haven't pinpointed a 'type' that I've got in men, but I'm pretty sure when that suit comes off I'll be really interested in Barry, and now that he's pointed it out and I've actually looked, I'm definitely at least surface-attracted.

At worst, things get kinda awkward between us and we just don't really talk. It's not like we were talking before; it's not like we were really friends so much as friendly strangers. Not much to lose, and alright, honestly, I could use some good sex, it's been awhile since I had any kind of spare time for it. Since Thea, actually, and obviously I'm not bringing that up to anybody in the team. That would just be asking for it.

Barry's fidgeting when my gaze gets back to his face, and he looks embarrassed and pretty worried. When I meet his eyes it's like the floodgates suddenly open. "You can totally say no and I will go right now, it's just a question and it's a really stupid request, and it's my problem not yours. I can figure it out on my own or find someone else, or just ask Dr. Wells because he'll probably at least have some ideas. This just seemed easiest, and I didn't mean to offend you, promise. I—"

"Sure," I answer, just to cut him off. Is babbling something anyone with superspeed would do, or is that just a Barry thing?

He blinks, looking shocked. "What?"

"Sure," I repeat. "You're good looking, and I haven't gotten laid in a while, so sure. Why not? You act like I'm going to turn down a 'friends with benefits' deal just because it comes with a little extra weirdness."

"You make it sound so simple," Barry says, sounding confused and almost offended at the same time.

"Isn't it? You, me, and sex. If it's anything else it's a favor right? No strings attached. Have you never done this before?" I don't mean it in a mean way. He just sounds like he's thinking from the 'sex has to mean something' viewpoint, which is weird for someone who just propositioned me under the name of 'help.'

"Well, not with a guy. I'm not a virgin or anything, but it can't be that different, right? I mean it's the same basic—"

"It's pretty different," I interrupt, holding one hand up to try and slow him down at least a little. Which is kind of a pointless thing, but also, I guess, what he's asked me to help him work on? "I know what I'm doing, I'll teach you. So, you want to do this now, or what?"

I'm not going to turn him down. It's not that late — normally I don't collapse into a bed until like, five or six in the morning, because Oliver forgets that some of us, read Felicity, have actual jobs — I'm not that tired, and I haven't got any more than a couple of bruises and nothing real serious.

Plus, the more I think about it the more sex sounds really good. Things have been rough lately.

Barry looks awkward, embarrassed, but he hasn't vanished and he hasn't said 'no' or some other protest yet. "I, uh, sure? I've got work in the morning, but so long as you've got an alarm I can just run back tomorrow." He seems to realize that he just invited himself to stay the night — not that I was going to just kick him out, probably — and sputters out, "I mean, or tonight. Whichever."

"You really haven't done this before," I comment, and he ducks his head. "Just with guys, or is casual just not your thing?"

"That one," he admits, with a crooked grin and a tilt of his head. "I've been with a couple women, after I hit twenty-one, but they weren't great ideas or really conscious decisions."

"You were a virgin until twenty-one?" Abstractly, I know that that's totally a possibility, but I don't think anyone I went to school with was still a virgin by graduation except maybe one or two. Maybe it's a class-difference thing. Far as I know, Barry was a suburb kid, not a bad-neighborhood one.

He flushes a bit, again, and crosses his arms. "Well, yeah. I was the too-smart nerd in school, with the eternal crush on my best friend. Not great date material."

"Fair enough." I watch him for a couple of seconds, then straighten up a bit and sigh. "Alright, come on. We'll start slow, if that's not too hard for you." I give a thin smirk and raise an eyebrow. Challenging him.

He uncrosses his arms, staring at me for a second, and then shakes his head and gives a small laugh. "That was so many different puns I don't even know where to start." Well, at least he looks a little more relaxed and a little less like he thinks I'm going to eat him alive. Which I still might, depending on how hot he actually is once he's out of the suit.

I nod across the apartment, and offer, "How about on the couch?" I start that direction without waiting for a response, and two steps in across the really short empty space he zooms past me and is suddenly sitting down, giving me half the couch and more than enough space. I follow him down, and then turn partly towards him. I point at his suit. "One piece or two?"

He follows the point, and then answers, "Two. Jacket and pants." I watch him swallow, Oliver's training insisting that I notice the tension in his shoulders.

"Relax," I say softly, "and come here." I reach out and pull him closer by his arm, making him shift over on the couch until his thigh presses in against mine, and he looks nervous and definitely not relaxed but I can work with that. He's taller than I am, but luckily he's not so much of a nervous wreck that he doesn't know what I'm going for. He turns his torso more towards me, and leans down a bit as I lean up.

His eyes flick closed a fraction before mine, and I let the brush of lips stay chaste. I haven't got the experience, city kid and all, but I'm pretty sure this is what it's like being around a skittish animal. I've gotta move slow enough not to scare Barry away, but still push the limits if I want to get anywhere close to what he actually wants from me. I guess this just means I get to take things slowly, and make really sure he wants me before things go any further.

Not normally how I do things, but not much about this is normal.

He exhales against my mouth, slow and shaky, and I slide my hand across the back of his shoulder and murmur, "Relax, Barry. This part's not any different." He did say that the new girlfriend is pretty aggressive, so I can probably be at least a little more forward and it won't feel too weird for him. Barry doesn't strike me as a really dominant guy; more like a whichever way the night happens to go guy.

I slowly move the hand across his back and up his neck, sliding my fingers into his short brown hair and applying just a little bit of pressure to push him into a slightly firmer kiss. He tilts his head, easing out a bit and actually meeting the press of my lips. His hand brushes my hip as he lifts it off the couch, and then touches my side. Cautiously, with just a little bit of pressure, until he apparently decides that I'm not going to back him off and lets his whole hand rest against my waist. His touch is warm, and about the most virgin-cautious thing I've seen in a while, but I resist the urge to roll my closed eyes or snort.

He'll figure it out.

I reach forward with my free hand, touching his thigh, and he starts a little bit and takes in a sharp breath. When he doesn't immediately push me away, even though the kiss is broken, I pull him down a few inches to get a better angle and kiss him again. More forcefully, and coupled with squeezing my hand down over his thigh, which feels like muscle all the way through. I knead it, holding him in the kiss, and after a little bit, to my surprise, his mouth parts and his hand slides up and around my back. Loose, and the flick of tongue to the seam of my lips is cautious, but I wasn't expecting him to take any kind of lead so it's a good surprise.

I make an encouraging noise, and he seems to gather whatever kind of courage he's got and take me at my word. His arm tightens around my back, actually pulling me up against him as much as he can with our torsos still twisted like this, and his other hand touches the side of my neck, thumb sweeping over my jaw and fingers curling to hook and pull me up as he takes the opening of my mouth as the invitation that it is.

He tastes like pizza, and kind of overpoweringly of jalapenos, but most of the spice is gone so it's just a nice touch of slight extra warmth. It's probably just lack of experience showing through, and I wouldn't call him bad at this, but he's definitely got a lot to learn about kissing. The rest of it is actually pretty good though.

I meet his exploration of my mouth, but don't try and reinstate control.

It's probably easier for him if he's the one in charge, at least for right now. It'll probably make him more comfortable, so he's welcome to it as far as I'm concerned. I'm not real picky about positioning; played both sides of that before and I can adapt to whatever.

Barry kisses me for a while, not feeling real hurried and with his hand flat against my back, the other curled against the side of my neck. I keep my grip on his thigh and in his hair, but mostly just let my hands rest there. The muscle of his thigh is nice just to touch — I actually am pretty curious what kind of definition he's got under that suit — and his hair's just long enough to make getting a good grip possible. Maybe I can have fun with that later, if it's his thing. If he doesn't end up being more of a top than the easygoing vibe I'm getting off him.

Eventually he swallows, hand flexing against my back and gripping the fabric of my tank-top tightly for a moment. He pulls back a little bit, lets go of my shirt, and I open my eyes to meet his look. He definitely looks, and feels, more relaxed now, and there's only a little trace of nervousness still in his eyes.

"Not so different, is it?" I ask, and I can see him swallow a second time.

"No," he answers, sounding kind of surprised by the fact. "You don't mind that I did that, right?"

"Took control?" That flush to his cheeks is back, and he gives a small nod. "No. I'm adaptable. If you like it better, go for it."

His grin is lopsided, and then he pauses a second, watches me, and finally leans back in and goes back to kissing me. I can feel him shift after a few seconds of it, raise his left leg — the one I've got my hand on — up onto the couch as he angles himself towards me, and I go along with it. He's careful about leaning me back, and lets me raise my own leg and get it pressed against the back cushion before he lays me down along the couch and fits himself between my legs. He's long and lean, and normally that's the kind that I've got pinned down in the reverse of this, but apparently Barry actually has some idea of how this part tends to go.

He keeps most of his weight off me — not that he has to, muscle or not he's not as dense as half the people I've grappled with in recent fights — and draws the arm beneath me out to brace against the cushion beside my head, his other hand tracing down my neck and down across the black fabric of my tank-top.

I tighten my grip in his hair, pulling him down and keeping him in the kiss, and the little hitch of breath and shudder I get tells me he definitely likes that. Alright, so more comfortable topping for now, but not at all opposed to at least a little bit of being treated as more of a bottom. Yeah, definitely just as much of a switch as me.

There's not much to grab or touch with his suit still on, and what I could grab is a little forward for right now, so I settle for looping my left arm around his back and pressing my palm against it, seeing if his suit is loose enough for me to get a handful. The answer is sort of. I can get a decent grip, but it's too stiff for me to really grip and curl in my fist like a normal shirt. Not that he seems to mind that, judging by the low noise he makes into my mouth, and the press of his hand against my ribs.

I let him explore, his hand grazing down my side and down to my hips before reversing upwards. A demand to at least unzip his jacket hovers on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it back. He's gotta stay comfortable to make this work, and eventually he'll want more. He knows where this is going to end up; he can't be that naive. He has to know that one way or another we're going to end up at least partly undressed. Sure, we can have sex totally clothed, but if Barry's not even really a 'casual' guy I'd bet clothed sex wouldn't sit well with him either.

He makes another small noise, pressing down into me and relaxing until a bit more of his weight settles on me, and I echo it with a second noise of encouragement. It's kinda lazy, and definitely not the hot rush that most of my casual nights used to be, but I'm definitely starting to feel the curl of arousal in my belly. Even if Barry isn't actually attracted to guys — probably should have asked that — it's still physical stimulation, and I'd bet he's starting to feel something too. If his hips were down just a little further, maybe I'd be able to feel it.

Or maybe not; his suit's pretty thick.

Barry pulls back again, and when I open my eyes his are still closed, mouth still parted. Maybe he's feeling more than I thought. His eyes flick open, and he ducks his head a little bit away from me like he's just realized that I'm still male, and not one of whatever girls he's slept with. It doesn't look ashamed, just embarrassed.

"You alright?" I ask, loosening the hand in his hair to stroke across his scalp, and he makes an unconsciously pleased noise as his eyes flicker that almost makes me swallow on reflex. Attraction confirmed.

"Yeah." His voice is quiet, and lower pitched than his normal tone. His eyes rise back to meet mine after a second. "This is alright?" He sounds unsure of himself, kinda disbelieving, and I smirk.

"You want to know the only thing I don't like about this?" He looks worried for the second I pause, until I finish with, "That you're still wearing your top, and it's too thick to feel anything through."

The flash of emotions across his face — surprise, mostly — is kinda fun to watch, and it settles into a warm grin that's definitely pretty playful. He pulls up, back onto his knees, and I let my hands fall to watch as he raises one hand and takes hold of the zipper at the front of his throat. I follow it as he pulls down, definitely purposely slowly, and I get to find out that underneath the red suit Barry has a fair bit of defined muscle. Not strength, but all compacted and lean, which makes sense. He's a runner.

I do want to lean up and run my hands across his chest just about the second that he gets that zipper all the way down, but I hold back until he's shrugged it off his shoulders and then dragged it off his arms. He drops it off the side of the couch to the floor, staying pretty still, and I prop myself up on my right arm to get back to something like sitting. He looks a little self-conscious, which doesn't quite play into the show he made of taking off the jacket, but I ignore it.

I wrap a hand around the back of his neck and drag the other up the ridges of his abs, pulling him into a kiss. This time, I press the opposite direction, dragging the leg I have up on the couch in to press against his thigh and hip and dipping my tongue into his mouth. He gasps, his shoulders curving in for a second, and then tilts his head and comes back at me. Not fighting — switch; knew it — but just meeting me where I want to be, and apparently totally alright with me exploring him in return.

His left hand finds the press of my leg, stroking up my thigh, and his right hooks around my waist and clenches tight in my tank-top. Even if he's not attracted to guys, clearly he's affected enough by this that it doesn't matter anymore. If he is, then he's just mostly over the shyness and that's not a bad thing either.

His chest rises and falls under my hand as I trace the curves of muscle, feeling out what kind of power he's got in them. Not that much I don't think, compared to Oliver and me, but if you know how to throw a punch and you're a thousand times faster than your opponent I guess it doesn't matter if you hit that hard. I've seen how effective he is, and he hasn't been doing this that long. He's only going to get better.

Barry presses closer to me, and I take a chance and wrap my arm around him, sliding my hand down his back to grab his ass. If the way his hand squeezes my thigh and the groan he gives into my mouth are any judge, he doesn't mind. So I keep my hand there, appreciating that I actually can feel his ass through the pants, and knead at it, pulling him a little harder into the kiss by my grip on his neck. He gives another groan.

That's enough to get me started on the way to being hard, and the shudder I can feel shake through his body into mine is another heavy push.

Instead of pushing him onto his back and getting between his legs, I flex my hand on his neck and pull away. I have to swallow and clear my throat to speak, and the half-lidded, aroused look Barry is giving me doesn't make it any easier. "So, usually at this point I'd make some smooth transfer over to the bed, which is way more comfortable. Do you want to stay here instead? Not go farther?"

If Barry wants to just stay out here and keep groping, and maybe not even go further tonight, I'll be disappointed but I'll respect it. He asked for this, and he gets to decide how far it goes. It's not like I'm going to pin him down and fuck him even if he doesn't want me to. It's not like I could even if I was that big a piece of scum.

Barry's a long ways from helpless.

My question does clear up some of the aroused haze from his eyes, and he glances down, considers, and then squeezes my thigh and gives me a warm grin. "I can do the bed." It's a quick answer, but I've got no idea if his brain works faster too. At the least, I know he's a genius. Quick answer doesn't mean he didn't think it through.

"Alright," I agree, letting go of his neck and almost regretfully his ass too. "You're going to need to move."

"I can carry you," he says immediately, but luckily it definitely sounds like an offer and not a statement of intent. "I mean, if you want. Do you want to walk instead?"

I give a crooked smirk and push him back a bit, shoving away the urge to follow him back and pin him down in the reversal of what I let him do to me. "Yeah, the normal human is going to walk. I thought you were trying to slow down anyway."

He flushes at the reminder, and follows me up as I swing my leg sideways and get to my feet. "I, well, maybe? I mean, I don't know. I didn't get that far." I give him a side glance, wondering if he's talking about what it sounds like he is, and move to lead the way around the wooden shelving to the other half of the apartment. "Cisco brought it up," he says defensively. "It's just a possibility, and I haven't even had the chance to test it yet. It's not like I timed myself before or anything."

Yeah, he is.

"So the speed might affect staying power?" I simplify, and there's some serious embarrassment in his expression as he raises his right hand and rubs it over the back of his neck, wincing.

"Maybe. So, practice and testing is good." Barry follows me around the corner of the shelving, pauses to look around, and I head around the bed that takes up most of the not-real-big second half to strip my tank-top off and chuck it into the pile of dirty clothes in the basket, pushed in the corner.

"I wasn't expecting company," I defend, as an excuse for the totally unmade bed and the general messiness of the room. I turn back around, and catch him staring at me. At my chest, specifically. I can see his lips form a soundless word that might be Christ, and smirk. It always feels good to get appreciated, especially after all the work I put in with Oliver and Diggle.

I approach him, and a few steps in he jerks his gaze up and to my eyes. That flush, spread over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, is only getting stronger, and he starts to say something that sounds like it's going to be an excuse or a protest. I cut it off by pushing him firmly back against the shelving, ignoring the slight rattle of whatever got disturbed, and raising a hand to slide through his hair and drag him down low enough that I can kiss him. I push my leg between his, leaning my weight into him, and fit my crotch against his upper thigh, not grinding but pushing. He jerks a little bit, hands tapping against my sides as he clearly tries to figure out what to do with them, and then he gives a thick moan and settles them against either side of my waist, fingers flexing in and then stroking up.

If he pushed back I'd let him, but he doesn't seem to have any desire to do anything but run his hands across my chest and let me go back to exploring his mouth, and he all but melts into me. I grip his upper arm with my free hand, and he trembles a little bit before it shifts into something stronger and way less distinct.

I jerk, grinding forward against him because oh fuck that's what him vibrating feels like. It's one of the strangest, best, most amazing things I've ever felt, especially where his thigh is doing it against my crotch, and I give a strangled moan from the back of my throat and drop away from the kiss to arch my head back.

"Crap," he spits, his voice sounding just a little distorted, and the vibration abruptly ceases. I buck forward, dropping my head against his shoulder and trying not to do it again. I am not a teenager anymore, and I won't be dry humping a sort-of friend's leg. Not even if he vibrates and feels incredible.

"Why would you want to stop doing that?" I ask, nearly breathlessly.

"To not freak out normal people who think I'm normal too," he answers, and then immediately asks, "Does it feel that good?" He sounds curious, and disbelieving, and I snort.

"Yeah, it does."

"Oh, well, I can totally do it when I want to. It's just the involuntary that's the problem. Do you want me to—"

"At least," I break in, "wait until I've got my clothes off and I'm laying down." I don't know if I could keep my legs under me with feelings like that, and mutual respect we might have but I still don't want to collapse to the floor in front of him. Also, Diggle takes care of washing the suits at his house, and I don't want to deal with his looks if he finds a mess like that inside my pants.

Barry's hands run up my back, and he shifts and then shivers a little bit. I can feel his hips jerk forward a bit, up against my leg, before he controls them. "Bed, then?" he asks, and I can hear the desire and the slight strain in his voice.

I barely have time to pull my head up and nod, and then he's pushing forward and loosening his arms around me, walking me backwards as he leans down and connects our mouths again. I let him, though I'm definitely not expecting the moment where he lowers his hands and hooks them under the back of both my thighs, lifting me a few inches — with some strain — and then taking the last step to fall over the foot of it, down onto the actual mattress. He's not heavy enough to be uncomfortable coming down on top of me, and he's actually pretty good about following me down slowly, not just crashing down on top.

He ends up half entangled with me, our legs back to pressing against each other's groins, with one arm braced next to my head and my hands splayed out across his back. I really do appreciate someone that can swap roles with me in just a couple seconds, it's a nice change of pace.

He pushes out a breath and presses down into me; I can see him bite down into his own lower lip in restraint. "Marks?" he asks, after the second has passed.

"I have to work, so nothing a normal shirt won't cover. You?"

He shakes his head, grins. "I heal. Nothing's gonna last long enough to have to worry about it; do whatever."

That's a hell of a thing to put out there, but I'll take him at his word. "Anything you do or don't like I should know about?"

He takes longer than I thought he would to respond, but finally shakes his head again and shoots me a crooked grin that's got a little bit of shame to it. I'm not totally sure what that's from, but he doesn't give me the time to figure it out either. "Experience is kinda limited, but nothing I can think of." Maybe's it's just the ingrained male need to prove 'being a man' by having slept with people. I got over that about at the same time I realized that guys interested me too, but most people haven't yet. "You?" he echoes.

I drag my hands up his back, forcing a shudder and a second of arched tension out of him just to watch it happen. "I'm adaptable. Trust me, you're not gonna cross any lines." Pretty much all of my hard 'no's are at the darker and weirder end of the scale, and everything else I can tolerate, or enjoy. Unless Barry is hiding some serious kinks under the puppy exterior there's no way he'll come even close to making me back him off.

"Alright." He hesitates, and apart from stroking my hands over his back I just wait for him to get his thoughts together, or spit out whatever's on his tongue. "So, which way is this going? I mean, I don't really— but you've kinda—"

I pull him down into me and kiss him just to stop him babbling, and then drag my teeth against his bottom lip as I pull back a few seconds later. It effectively shuts him up, and I consider the question. I really, honestly, have got no problem fucking or being fucked. They're both good in their own way. Barry seems more comfortable topping, sorta, but also doesn't know what he's doing when it comes to guys. Then there's the question—

"Can you control your powers through sex?" I ask bluntly, and he gives me a weird look. "Are you going to start fucking at superspeed?" I rephrase, and he goes bright red.

"I don't know," he admits. "It doesn't happen with just me but neither does the vibrating, and I haven't done this since before I got my powers so it could really go either way. I've got no idea what could happen."

I make something like a grunt of understanding, and then shrug. "Then no offense, but it's safer for me to play top. At least this first time. You alright with that?" It would pretty much flat out suck for him to turn me down now, but I'm not risking friction burns or worse. I know next to nothing about Barry's powers, and he obviously doesn't know much more than that. "It doesn't mean you've gotta roll over or anything," I inform him, belatedly. "I don't mind this. Just follow my shots when I call them."

He nods, and kinda eases a bit at the clarification and my decision. "Alright, I can do that."

"We should probably start with shoes. Nobody takes shoes off gracefully and they're just going to get in the way later. Pants would be good too but that's optional right now." Barry moves, pulling away with flashes of yellow lightning following him, and I have about enough time to blink before there's cold air on my suddenly bare feet, and he's giving me one of those 'pleased with himself' grins from between my legs. Which kind of overwhelms the actual impressiveness of what he just did. "You shouldn't look at me from down there," I tell him, and he tilts his head a bit to one side and peers up at me with what I swear is innocence.

"Why not?"

I lean up a bit to get a better angle, and swallow. "Your head's in between my legs, Barry. Do you really need me to follow through on where that takes my thoughts?" His gaze flickers down, understanding lighting in his eyes, mouth parting in a small ring — Oh — that doesn't help the direction my mind's wandering off in.

Mostly how pretty it would be to have his head in my lap, my fingers in his hair and his mouth curled around my dick as he sucked. How good it would feel.

"I can— I'm not opposed to it. I haven't before but I could probably learn; I learn fast."

My mouth curls in a small grin at his eager, but weirdly passive desire to please me, and I shake my head. "Maybe some other time. Take your pants off before you come back up here." Of course he follows the instruction, and I only wish I'd clarified, slowly, because in a blink the pants of his uniform are one the floor and he's moving back up my body. He presses down against me, lean and fitting easily in between my legs and against my chest, and I give a mostly uncontrolled noise of approval when his mouth drops down to my shoulder.

At the least, he knows how to make a hickey.

He sucks and rolls the skin between his teeth, and I find a grip in his hair with one hand while I lower the other to stroke down his back and to the rise of his ass underneath the pair of — naturally — dark red boxers that are the last piece of clothing he's wearing. He took his own shoes off too; good decision.

It doesn't really occur to me until after I'm arching my head back, gripping at his back and flexing my hand in his hair, that I've been totally assuming that this isn't going to be a one time thing. I mean, it makes sense that it wouldn't be — I don't think even Barry is going to figure out the vibrating thing in just one time — but we didn't really say anything about it. He said sex, singular, but he also hasn't called me out on my comments about 'next time' or 'some other time.' So is he thinking this is going to be an all-night thing — which I'm also not going to turn down — or is he also assuming this is going to be more than once?

Questions to ask later, when this first time is done. Right after asking if he's actually attracted to guys or not. I'd bet yes, at least a little, but you never know. People are capable of ignoring a lot of things for physical pleasure.

The hand not braced next to my head touches my side, stroking down with more confidence than before, and finds its way between us to — and there he does hesitate a second — cup over my groin. The groan I give is apparently enough to convince him that I'm not going to stop him, and his fingers find the zipper and drag it down. I can feel his breath against my shoulder, and then his long fingers curl around me through my own black boxers, and I shove out my own breath and tighten the fingers in his hair.

He strokes as he presses down, finding another spot on my shoulder to drag into his mouth, and I can feel the hot proof of his attraction pressing against my thigh. I push up into his hand, and against his crotch, and he shudders sharply and gives a low, wanting sound against my skin. Which is just about enough of that.

"Pants," I say, probably in more of a gasp than it should be to be an order, but Barry still reacts pretty much instantly. His hand pulls away from me, and he lets go of the skin between his teeth and pushes himself up on both arms. His pupils are blown wide when he looks at me, and the desire is easy to see, and it's kinda a rush to know that a super-powered metahuman is that interested with me. "You yank them off I'm gonna have to smack you," I warn him, half seriously, and he grins.

"Got it."

Actually, the way his fingers curl under the edge of my pants and drag them down my hips is nearly slow, and he watches me the whole time. Not my legs, or my crotch, where most guys stare when they pull pants down, but my face. He meets my eyes instead, watching whatever expression I've got on my face as he slips down and off the end of the bed to finish pulling the pants of my costume all the way off my legs. It's… interesting. I'm gonna go with interesting.

His hands stroke up the inside of my legs as he climbs back up — this time I'm the one who shivers — and then hit my inner thighs and stop, as he kneels between them. "Can I?" he asks, tugging at the bottom edge of my boxers to show what he's talking about.

I have never wanted to shout 'yes' at someone so badly before, but on the off chance that sends him sprinting out of the room faster than I can react, I just nod and answer, "Go for it."

His hands slide a little further up, fingertips curling under the edge of the band and then slowly pulling down, lifting a bit to get it over my dick, and this time he does stare at my crotch instead of my face. He's decent enough to actually get the boxers all the way off my legs though, and not just leave them bunched at my ankles or something. I can see him lick his lips — which woah, there's that image back again — and then in under a second he's leaning down over me, kissing me wet, and hungrily, and with no skill at all but the passion is good enough it doesn't matter that much.

I grip his upper arms, fairly hard, and he moans into the kiss and doesn't seem to mind apart from a slight startled sound when I push and flip us with a move Oliver taught me that I did not think I was ever going to use in sex. He hits the bed on his back, and I let go of his arms to stroke my hands down his sides and to his hips, peeling at the edges of his boxers and pausing to give him a second to shove, or stop me, or anything. He doesn't, so I lift my hips and manage, with some awkward and a little bit uncomfortable angles, and some manhandling of his thighs, to get them off his legs without really breaking the kiss.

He shivers, vibrates for a second before he shuts it down, but I'm not pressed down against him and I only feel it in the press of his hands at my chest, and the flicker of his — holy fuck — tongue against mine.

I jerk back, staring at him with wide eyes, and I should say something or anything, but my mind is pretty firmly stuck on the fact that he can vibrate on command and that includes his tongue. And maybe I was thinking about having his head in my lap before but Christ that just adds a whole other level to things.

"Sorry," he gasps, arching a bit, twitching, and finally prying his eyes open. "Working on it."

"Your tongue vibrates?" is all I manage to say, and he stares at me for a second, confused, before realization lights up his green eyes.

He grins. "Any or all of me," he says, and yeah, it definitely sounds pretty smug. "Could be fun, right?" I'm laughing before I realize what I'm doing, snickering as my head falls forward onto his shoulder and my shoulders shake. "Hey!" he protests, sounding a little offended. "What's so funny?"

"Oh my god," I say, between snickering and trying to breathe. "You're literally a human vibrator!" There's a second of stunned silence from him, and then he's laughing with me. Louder, back arching up against me and hands leaving my chest to wrap around my upper arms instead. Loose, steadying, and it's the most I can do just to brace myself as I try to breathe past the laughter.

"Oh wow," he gasps. "I hadn't thought of it like that!" He sounds warm and bright and happy, still chuckling even though he recovers faster from the lack-of-breath inducing laughter, and it's enough for me to get past my own and get it down to a wide smirk and small snorts of amusement

I raise my head, rolling and pulling him with me till we're lying on our sides instead of with me on top of him. "C'mere," I say through the smirk, and reach forward to grip the side of his neck to pull him in, thumb grazing across his jaw.

I kiss him slowly, deeply but not rushed, as I shift closer and entangle our legs together, pushing until we're pressed nearly as close as possible. I can feel the hitch in his breathing as our cocks rub together, and the push forward of his hips to make it happen again. I let go of his neck, sliding my hand down his chest — stopping briefly to tweak one of his nipples, just to feel the reaction; a startled gasp, followed by a shallow moan — and then further down to wrap around both of us.

He breaks the kiss, a moan dragging out from deep in the back of his throat as his head tilts in towards the bed, resting. I pull my other arm out from underneath his chest, bringing it up and underneath his neck, stroking up through his hair and then getting a good grip in it. His mouth is parted, eyes closed, and the hand that's not buried beneath us finds a grip at my back and clings tight. My main hand strokes, my breath catching at the feeling and then again at Barry's reaction to the feeling, and I'm stuck between wanting to lean into him and suck along the side of his neck and down his shoulder, just to taste him, and watching the gorgeous picture he makes like this.

The first one wins, and I press forward and pull his head a little more to the side with my grip in his hair, forcing his neck to bend sideways and give me more to work with. He's making little strained noises on the exhale of every panting breath; gives a slightly louder one when I graze my teeth across the first spot my mouth lands on, pulling it into my mouth to suck.

I don't know why I expected something special, but Barry just tastes like a human. Clean, but with the taste of salt and sweat heavy on my tongue from what we're doing. It's good, it's one hint of normal in the rest of this kind of weird situation, and as I stroke the two of us I leave a trail of marks down the side of his neck and to his shoulder. It feels amazing, and I can feel him rocking into the grip, his thighs clenching around the leg I have pushed between them, and I let myself think about what that tongue would feel like, and what it would — will? — look like to sink inside Barry, and what it felt like to have him pressed between my legs.

One thing I'm really sure of is that Barry and me are both willing and able to play both roles, and just because my experience is making me the natural top for now doesn't mean I am not really looking forward to the first time he fucks me.

I'm almost sure this isn't going to be a one time thing.

His blunt nails dig into my back, a guttural moan leaving his lips, and I can feel him shake against me, feel him vibrate again. I realize, with my head bowed down next to his and busy at his shoulder, that it actually makes a slight noise. Nothing I can immediately pinpoint, but maybe something like the fast shuffle of paper, and it's so faint it's nearly drowned out by the noise I make into his flesh. He really did mean everything vibrates.

I smother my sounds against his shoulder, pushing forward to meet him and pushing him a little more towards being on his back. His nails drag down my back — not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make red lines for later — and the noise that works its way out of his chest is loud and slightly distorted.

"Roy," he gasps, and then he's arching his head back and bucking into my grip, making a high, strangled sound through the clench of his jaw. The vibrations flicker off, and his chest is rising fast and shallow against mine.

I pull back enough to watch, keeping up the stroke of my hand — which yeah, it's been way too long because I don't remember this feeling so damn good — and just watching him. Staring at the tension in his face and the part of his mouth, the press when he bites down on his own bottom lip to stifle another sound, nails digging harder into my back for a second. His eyes flick open after another few seconds, finding me, and his breath catches hard in his throat, I watch him swallow and feel him shudder.

"Roy," he says again, like it's a plea, and I tighten my grip in his hair and then forcefully ease it out to scratch my nails across his scalp. That gets me a flicker of his eyelids and a slackening of his mouth that turns to gritted teeth and the rake of nails across my skin.

"God," I manage to get out of my own mouth, forcing my hips harder against his and quickening the pace of my hand, feeling him hard and hot against me. I want to lean down and kiss him, push my tongue into his mouth and see how much I can get him to melt against me, but I also really want to stay right here and watch him fall apart.

That one wins hands down.

It isn't that long before he's arching tight against me, and I can feel him throb and jerk, his skin blurring for a second as he comes warm and wet between us and on my hand. His neck arches, face contorting into a grimace as he cries out, and that swipe of his nails is definitely leaving behind actual scratches. My breath comes short, lust riding high, but I force myself to slow and gentle my hand, weathering the last of his release.

Barry comes down faster than anyone else I've been with, eyes flicking open as he starts to shrink, breath coming hard but already evening out. His hand is loose on my back, and the look in his eyes is hazed and soft, and I stop trying to hold back. I lean in and drag him up for a kiss, taking full advantage of his lazy, eased surrender to push my tongue into his mouth. I let go of both of us, wrapping my hand back around his hip and grabbing his ass, pulling him in hard against me. He makes a low, satisfied noise that makes me both proud and makes my cock twitch, and I shift up a bit so our heads are even, and I can roll my hips in against the heat and muscle of his abs, and the leftover scattered wetness of his come.

He flexes, sucks in a sharp breath that draws his stomach in a bit, but then the slight tension eases away and his hand strokes up my back, pulling me closer. Like there's any more room between us to close.

Then he tightens his legs around mine, pulls the hand on my back to rest on my chest instead and pushes, rolling us to press me into the bed flat on my back. He breaks the kiss, pulling away despite my protesting sound and shaking my hand out of his hair, both hands pressing against my chest and keeping me down. My other hand still has a hold of his ass, but that's the only grip I've got on him.

I might murder him if he tries to leave now, or at least be really pissed, but luckily there's nothing about the look he's giving me that makes me think he wants to leave. No embarrassment, no shame, just satisfaction and a lazy kind of pleasure, and a smile that's slowly widening to a soft grin.

He doesn't say anything, there's just a blur of motion — knocking my hand loose from his ass — and then his mouth is on my cock and I give a startled shout and arch off the bed, hands clenching in the sheets. It's more the shock of pleasure than any serious, instant, skill he's got at it. Because once I come down from that first surprise it's real obvious he's got no practice at this and is just working off whatever he's heard about or seen. It's definitely not bad, but it could use some work.

I lower my hands, drawing my knees up to press in on his shoulders and combing through his hair. Not gripping to pull or press, but just stroking through. I swallow, gather myself, and then manage to say, "Don't take more than's comfortable; hand for the rest. Watch the teeth."

I'm not going to tell him he can't, or that he doesn't have to. He took the lead, and he's the one who pushed me down and did it all by himself. I didn't ask, or prompt, and I would have been just fine getting off against his stomach. He chose to, and at this point he should know damn well I'm not going to make him do anything he doesn't want to.

He makes a noise of acknowledgement that buzzes up my cock and drags a gasp out of me, and follows the advice. He seems to get the idea of sucking and stroking in rhythm without me saying anything, and I raise my right hand out of his hair to trace it down around his ear and neck. There's the flash of green eyes looking up at me, and my breath catches. I can feel him grin around me, and then there's the buzz and incredible sensation that has to be his tongue vibrating against the underside, and I shout again and buck up, shoving up into his mouth before I can control myself.

He chokes a little bit, and I manage to spit out, "Other hand, hip," before pulling both hands away from his hair so I don't yank at it. The sheets are a way safer bet.

Barry gets the hint, pressing the hand not wrapped around the lower part of me hard into my hip to keep it pinned down, and I jerk my right arm up above my head, curling my fingers into the cushion of one of the pillows to have something to grip. I breath hard, gritting my teeth together and pressing my thighs in harder against his shoulders. He makes another satisfied noise, tongue rolling and flicking even as it vibrates, like an unholy sentient vibrator — which is exactly what he can do, god damn — bent on finding exactly what makes me give the loudest sounds.

Damn skill, Barry doesn't need it. Put his mouth or his fingers between a woman's legs — or mine, jesus fuck please mine — and he could make them do anything he wanted with the right instruction.

It is a serious shame that he's not dating someone that knows what he can do, and he'll never get to show this off to them. Or, maybe it's not and I can be greedy and proud and the only one who knows that he can do any of this. I think, just maybe, I might be able to live with that privilege.

"Fuck," I choke out. "Christ, Barry." His fingers flex into my hip, and I twist the sheet in my hand to not reach down and do the same to his hair. I was already pretty worked up, especially with how damn good Barry looks and sounds when he's coming apart, and this isn't going to take long to get me off. Not if he keeps pressing his tongue right into the most sensitive spots, and he was not kidding when he said he learned fast.

I jerk and drag in enough of a breath to say, "Barry, as some kind of warning, because someone inexperienced like him deserves a warning before I come in his mouth, and his hand flexes against my hip again and then deliberately taps.

Normally I'm used to a tap being a surrender in a spar, but I'm pretty damn sure right now he means it as proof he heard. It's not like I'm holding him in any way, and any lingering restraint disappears in the face of realizing that he's got superspeed, and insanely good reflexes, and at worst he'll probably get a taste he wasn't expecting.

I twist the sheet and pillow in my grip and feel the tremble start in my legs, about a second before it spreads up and I jerk and press into the bed with a groan that feels dragged from the bottom of my stomach. Suddenly Barry is pressed up against me, hand wrapped around me and his body layered over mine as I come. He closes his mouth over a bit of my shoulder and sucks as he strokes me through my release, and I abandon the sheets with my one hand to clutch at his back instead.

When the tension eases I sink back against the bed, swallowing and getting my breath back, and Barry lets go of my shoulder and relaxes down onto the bed beside me. He's half on top of me but mostly just pressed in a long line along my side, his breath tickling the side of my neck and one arm hooked over my chest.

I keep my eyes closed, letting myself come down easy and fully enjoying the warmth of him at my side. Eventually, when I've got all my air back and I'm just feeling nice and lazy instead of floating high, I ask, "Are you actually attracted to guys?" It comes out a little rough, and I turn my head to lie the other way and face him.

"A few," he answers, meeting my gaze with a fairly small grin. "I'm here, right?"

I snort and lean over a bit to kiss him, and he seems pleasantly surprised but more than willing. He tastes a little bit of me, but I've always hated the guys that won't kiss after someone gives them head. If they don't want to taste it, why the hell should they expect me to?

"This going to be a one time thing?" is what I ask next, when the kiss eventually ends.

"Well, the idea was practice, which is usually more than once," he points out, with a slightly teasing tone. "But you know, if you're not interested…" There's definitely something serious in the way he says that, and something a little questioning in his eyes, and I lean back in for a second to brush my lips over his.

"I'm interested," I reassure him. "Who else are you going to figure all this crap out with? Or figure out what kinda neat tricks you can do with that vibrating?" I am really looking forward to that. I think we're gonna find some really interesting stuff that he'd never learn in just normal training.

Like that he can probably give the best blowjobs in the world as soon as he's got some experience doing it.

"I thought you were supposed to be helping stop the vibrating," he says with a bright smirk, his arm squeezing around my chest for a second.

I shift and turn in towards him, appreciating the slide of his arm over my chest to rest mostly against my back, and looping mine over his waist. "Sounds like a fair trade. I help you stop vibrating, you let me figure out what you can do with it."

He slides in against me, pressing legs warm between and around mine, giving a pleased sound with that grin still on his face. "I can do that." Barry kisses me, slow but not really lazy anymore, and pulls me a little closer with the hand on my back.

It's been a long time since I had the time and energy to just lie next to someone like this. Even with Thea I was always busy, trying to find the Arrow or trying to keep myself together and with a roof over my head. After Thea I poured myself into working with Oliver, and keeping the city safe. So getting to just lie in the afterglow and trade kisses with an attractive man?

Yeah, worth my time.

He shifts, pressing even closer, and I can feel him stir against my hip. He makes a low noise, and I pull back a bit to glance down, confirm that he's starting to rise, and then smirk and look back up to meet his gaze. "Fast in a couple ways, huh?"

He did get off pretty quick, but that could've been the speed or the lack of experience, or both. Hard to say. This, on the other hand, is obvious. Not even teenagers recover that fast, it's gotta be the powers.

Barry gives a small laugh, and half of a shrug. "I guess? New to me."

"Well I'm not," I say, with the same smirk, "so you're gonna have to give me some time." Even though I am totally willing to just lie here and let Barry rock against my thigh, or jack off, or whatever else he wants to do. I just need some time before I'll be ready to do any of that with him. Probably only a few minutes before I've got the energy to do something, and a decent amount more before I get physically interested again.

I wonder if Barry's got the same limits as a normal guy? Is he faster to recover, but with the same maximum amount of times he can get off before things get way too sensitive to feel good anymore, and it's not worth the time to anybody involved? Or does this extend to recovering from that too, and he has a higher or maybe even nonexistent limit?

Things to find out. I'm kind of surprised he hasn't found this out already, honestly, but then if he's a mostly-virgin kinda guy he probably doesn't do more than just jack off normally, and once.

"I can wait," he says with confidence, and then softens to add, "This is nice."

"Patience? You?" I rub my hand up his back, offering him a small smirk at the totally fake offence on his face. "You don't have to wait, just don't expect me to get it up again for a while. I've got no issue helping, or just watching."

He swallows, I can feel him stir with a little more intent, and then ducks his head and tucks it in underneath mine, against my chest. He's a little too tall for it to work with how we are, but he shuffles down to make it happen, arm warm around my waist and his head tucked under my chin. He presses his mouth against my throat, and then goes more or less still.

"Way more interesting to wait," he mumbles into my skin, quiet enough I can only barely hear him. "And good practice," he adds belatedly, louder and with humor, and I can feel his grin against my skin.

Oh yeah, this is definitely worth my time.