[ Bruce is a complex man that Barry longs to sink his fingers into and pull out any sort of reaction that might fall into the category of praise from him. He wants to be good enough, both here in this moment and on the team he'd come to him about. To find a place for himself, among others- with others who are a little like him in various ways... it's something he so badly needs in his life and this, right here with Bruce, is something else he desperately needs in his lonesome life he has: he needs that physical and emotional connection with someone who not only gets him but wants him as he is, too.
When he feels that hand drop first to his shoulder, then slide its way up to his neck, he looks up to Bruce, lips wrapped around the head of that thick cock, eyes fixated on him as he does. The way he breathes and the way he sits there isn't lost on Barry and it's a gentle sort of reassurance that this is good,this is right,this is something he wants. Because he wants this as well, even if certain other might caution against this, especially if this ends up being more than a one-off sort of thing. Usually there's rules about not dating any work colleagues, never mind blowing the boss, but. It's different. Or so Barry tells himself. Their whole thing is different. Because, sure, they're a team. But they also have their own lives, their own cities, their own places to be when they're not working together. It's fine. All of this is fine and no one even needs to really know anyways. Even with Barry's penchant for not being the greatest at keeping who he is a secret, there are some things he can keep to himself and he figures Bruce can too. Even from Alfred? Maybe fifty-fifty there. (you're a bad liar when you try it with him after all, bruce)
But with the gentle reassurance given in the form of that hand on his neck, Barry slides his lips down the thick shaft of the other man and takes as much of him as he can into his mouth with an eager little hum. Quick as he is, he's slow with his movements as he swallows him, head bobbing and fingers stroking. Taking whatever he can into his mouth and welcoming it every time he slides back down, relaxing his throat to take just a little more each time. ]
[ (Alfred knows about every single person he's ever slept with, and will know about this. Sorry, Barry. Former spies notice everything, even if they would prefer not to.)
It is different. This isn't work. This isn't like anything else; there's no comparison to draw. If Bruce were pressed to dissect the psychological implications of the amount of stress and trauma bonding they've collectively been through together, he might say it's actually more surprising that they aren't all fucking.
But they aren't. It's this, a nervous, if genuine overture in private, sinking into quicksand after a reality-splitting revelation. Thoughts swirl in Bruce's head and some of them wonder about the shape of this encounter, and if it's like desperation. You're real, I'm real, neither of us is about to be pulled away through time and space. If it's doubling down after sheepish awkward socializing. If it's revelling in the cure for loneliness; they understand each other. They aren't hiding, or lying.
If it's like all of that.
His breath hitches once as Barry takes him in, and it's followed by a rough exhale. Bruce moves his hand higher, splayed out against the side of his cheek, fingers curled towards the back of his skull. Holding him and feeling the way his jaw moves as he sucks his cock, his forearm brushing against the younger man's as he moves.
Bruce is not a talker. Unlikely to be a surprise. But he watches him intently. His mouth feels good, and it's almost a shock to realize that, yes, Barry is good at this. Not that he looks like someone who'd be bad, or something, but he perhaps simply hasn't considered Barry Allen as someone spending a lot of free time working up his skills. But it's impressive, anyway, and Bruce finally moves his other hand - up until now still at his side, as if restrained - to card through his dark hair and drag blunt fingernails over his scalp. ]
[ Slight age gaps aside here, Bruce is one of the first people that Barry's felt a sort of connection with in a very long time. Even before he was struck by lightning, ended up in a coma, and woke to find the world suddenly so slow around him, he'd been a bit of a loner. A drifter. Never really forging the sorts of connections or relationships with others beyond friendly surface levels because of his obsession determination in freeing his father, in feeling helpless with no one listening to or believing him. In feeling that he had to do it all on his own. By himself. Because that's all he had with his father behind bars.
Bruce knows that loneliness. That sort of inability to seemingly forge genuine connections with others in a way where you can leave yourself open and vulnerable to it and them. While they may not entirely be there just yet (and who's to say they ever will be with the man's own hangups and issues), there's still some semblance of that that Barry is able to grasp and hold onto it and he doesn't wish to let it go. With him or any of them.
He doesn't need filthy praise spilling from his lips of how good of a boy he is for being so eager and willing to blow him like this on the sofa in the... back here. All he needs are sounds and touches that make him vibrate in a way that isn't the speed force's doing, and Bruce gives him just that. Especially when those fingers find their way in his hair, dragging over his scalp.
The sound he makes is muffled but eager, a way to show and tell that he likes it. Both his cock currently stroking the inside of his mouth and the way he's touched as if to coax him into giving more. And he does. Happily. Fingers stroking what doesn't find its way in his mouth (yet) while the wet muscle of his tongue lavishes that thick cock he sucks on with wet and almost lewd noises. Cheeks hollowed, he pulls back from Bruce a little and lets his cock slip out of his mouth with a wet little pop as he does. Eyes hazy, fingers pumping him, he smiles up to the man for what must feel like a half a second or so before he takes him back into his mouth and, this time, lets him bump the back of his throat every time he bobs down. Mouth wet, fingers squeezing at the base, tongue caressing the heaviness resting against it. Barry takes every inch he's given and shows him that He Likes It. He likes him. ]
[ It's surreal. Sitting here underground, thinking a few hours ago that, well, the handcuff remarks were all probably across the line. But instead it was just two people severely out of practice talking without pretense, fumbling around through boundaries, wondering.
With a shock that has nothing to do with the electromagnetic echoes of Barry's power, Bruce realizes this is the first sexual contact he's had since before everything went to shit, and that'sβ
Interesting. Both that it's this, and that he didn't notice he'd stopped. For a while there it was just another spoke on the wheel of his downward spiral, another addiction to lose himself in alongside too much alcohol chasing handfuls of medication. And before that, when he enjoyed it at all, when was the last time he was with anyone who actually knew who he was? Selina, probably. Selina, who doesn't actually like the person he is in between, because that person is neither as dangerous and thrilling as Batman or as charming as a socialite. ]
Fuck, [ leaves him, quiet and breathless. It feels good, his enjoyment is viscerally apparent in how hard he is, the way precome beads at the tip of his cock, even as it's so quickly vanished from Barry's enthusiastic attention. Watching the younger man and his brilliant, pornographic smile, he thinks he should probably tell his body he's allowed to find an end to this. More difficult to switch off when he doesn't have someone else's pleasure to pay attention to. But here it feels just on the edge, like he wants to make that switch, turn it, fall.
[ Do you want to handcuff Barry to your bed and make him take that thick hard cock of yours, Bruce? With the amount of stamina he has on him, you could be in for a real good time there.
When Bruce says his name all rough and raspy as he does, Barry looks up to him with a dreamy sort of something in his eyes. Hearing Bruce say his name like that... it does things to him, shoots straight to his own cock in his pants, and makes him want to draw more of that sound, that way he says his name out of him. Because he likes it. He really really does.
His mouth becomes more eager on that cock, sounds wet and lewd as he steadily takes him in over and over again. There's almost something messy about the way he does, stroking what he doesn't have in his mouth while lapping up whatever precome he's given. Sometimes he moans around him. Other times, he looks up to him, mouth full of cock. Completely lost in whatever all of this is and finding that he likes it and wants Bruce to like it too.
He goes so far as to deepthroat him a couple times, letting the head of that cock bump the back of his throat before he finds himself needing to pull back with a gasp, lips shiny and wet that he licks over with a hum. Bruce is big and even someone with the sort of stamina that he has, there's only so much he can take before he just needs a minute. ]
You can come in my mouth. Hard swerve to R, remember?
[ A slightly humorous attempt at dirty talk, he smiles to Bruce, eagerly pumping that cock before it's back in his mouth and he's sucking on him like it's the only thing he or wants or needs. Because he wants it. Wants Bruce to find that release he so desperately needs and fill his mouth with spurts of cum for him to take and swallow down. That's what he wants as he makes his mouth coax that desire out of him in any way that it can. ]
[ Finally, something seems to loosen in him. His posture isn't so controlled, and muscles in his thighs and hips tense or shift minutely. Barry takes him in deep and his cock jerks, illuminating just how into he is even while Bruce is being so quiet. He gets a grip in his hair and pulls, but just for a moment, not exerting any pressure onto his head; he makes himself relax his hand after, cradling his head. Telltale restlessness creeping in as Barry drags that desperate ache all through him.
Hard swerve to R. ]
I remember, [ he says, and with eyes closed it might almost sound like Bruce is laughing. Close as he gets, anyway. His breath hitches, he makes a sound like Ahβ
It's unbelievably hot, watching Barry choke on his dick like he needs it to breathe. He moves his other hand to the side of the younger man's face, pressing against his cheek, feeling his own cock in his mouth, watching him with arousal-blown eyes. Leaking so much now, riding right there at the precipice, everything drawn tight and swollen. ]
Fuck, fuck, look at you. [ Half-growled but still quiet. Even in bed he's too in the habit of burying himself. His hips flinch up once before he stops himself, the accidental slip shooting through him like a lance. He feels himself throb, and he swipes his thumb along Barry's lower lip, holding his face. His cock twitches and he thinks I should say, but the thought doesn't finish, and his orgasm is like a gut-punch. Instead he almost chokes on an inhale, clenches his teeth, groans, comes hot and hard and maybe too much. ]
[ Honestly, if Bruce wanted to fuck his mouth, he'd let him. He'd choke on his cock as many times as he wanted if it meant he could get more of those sounds and the way he says his name on those lips out of him. Bruce is forever restrained in everything that he does, that to see and hear him like this and knowing it's because of him... it's intoxicating in every way imaginable and has Barry crushing even harder on the man. Not that he thinks he's the best sort-of-fuck he's ever had or anything, but. It's Bruce in a way he's never seen before, only wondered about. Alone. With his own hand around his cock.
So when Bruce pushes into his mouth, even if for just a moment, Barry moans around him at how good it feels. How good it is to have Bruce force him to take just a little more than he's already taking. The praise fills Barry with an overwhelming desire to give him whatever he wants and he glances up to him when he feels that hand holding his face. He can only imagine what he looks like down here between his legs for Bruce, mouth stuffed with his cock he keeps taking, but from where he is on his knees between those legs, Bruce looks like that torn masterpiece he's thought about countless times and he doesn't want to be rid of that image just yet.
But then his mouth is filled with cum and he takes what he's fed with a guttural moan. He swallows what he can, greedy and desperate to take it all, but it proves to be a little too much for him (it's not like he's out sucking dick on the daily) and chokes on it to the point of having to pull back, gasping. He desperately takes what he can't on his tongue, splotches of that hot cum both on his cheek and dribbling from his lips, making him a literal mess there on his knees. He pumps that cock even as Bruce comes, milking as much from him as he can and he lets him paint his tongue in white before he comes to lick over his lips and slowly make a show of swallowing what he's been given.
Lips wrapping around that thick head, he sucks on him for just a little, making sure he gets it all, before he lazily pulls himself off and sighs there on his knees, an arm coming to drape over Bruce's leg. Leaning there, he admires the other's cock he lazily squeezes before he looks up to Bruce, wearing his mess on his face. ]
[ His cock pulses in Barry's mouth, long seconds that shatter him, unspool something tense he didn't know was so wound; for a moment, there's nothing but the blank ecstasy of it. Oblivion is not the only (or first) reason Bruce indulges in the kind of sex life he does - usually - but there is something to be said for it. Every string cut for a pinprick of time.
Reality reshapes. Bruce's breathing is ragged, but he doesn't force it to even out any quicker than naturally. Lets himself have it. Lets Barry have the honesty of his reaction. (Fleeting as it may be. His brain doesn't go offline for long.)
Speaking of.
Bruce looks at Barry, with his reddened mouth and dishevelled hair, sitting there between his knees, his cock still obscenely out, taking its sweet time to bother going soft. Yes, he thinks. Agrees silently. It was hot. And still is. Bruce leans down, curls over, his hands still on the younger man. He kisses him hard and deep, fucking his mouth with his tongue, eating the taste of himself out of him, sucking at his tongue and lips and scraping teeth along his jaw. Slow and searing and pointed. Something in the way he clutches at him his proprietary, as if pinning in him place.
His voice is a low rumble when he speaks, barely pulling away, his mouth brushing against his skin. ] Come here.
[ Bruce pulls at him, gracefully encouraging gracelessness. ]
[ Barry had been rubbing at his jaw a bit while lounging there between Bruce's legs and wondering if this was the part where things would get awkward between them. He'd successfully managed to spill the beans about his crush on Bruce to Bruce and, somehow, convinced him to not only make out with him but also blow him right here on the sofa and be a greedy little speedster lapping everything that he could up both literally and figuratively. Because there's going to be an after, as much as he sort of doesn't want there to be. It has to happen, whether they just sort of forget this was ever a thing or keep it between them from here on out. It's a thing he's feeling a little uncertain with suddenly and isn't so sure what it means in terms of their relationship to one another.
But then Bruce is suddenly kissing him - hard - and Barry's breath catches in the back of his throat before he falls into it, into him, lingering worries dissolved into that kiss that practically burns his lips. Unabashed with how he feels, he lets himself moan loudly into that kiss, letting Bruce take whatever he wants from him. Fingers grip at the front of the other man's shirt and Barry rushes to keep up with how hard and deep Bruce kisses him, ending up a fumbled mess of need and want for this man even after having swallowed his cum as messily as he had.
When Bruce asks - demands? - what he does of him, Barry stares to him in a bit of a daze because... is there more? Is Bruce not going to awkwardly shimmy his way out of this or ask if he needs a ride home? It takes Barry all of three seconds before he's letting himself be pulled as Bruce wants and he bumps his head against the other man's as he kisses him again. Eager. Needy. Feeling that second wind of his already kicking in because of his stamina.
Unable to help himself, he kisses along Bruce's neck, breath heavy, hands wandering over the front of his chest. Needing to touch him and taste him again already, getting caught up in all of this all over again. ]
[ Right, sure, Mr My Feelings Are So Intense I Live In A Glass Depression Cube And Struggle With Receiving Head is going to call Barry an uber and leave him to jerk off awkwardly back in Ohio. Time to work on his detective game.
Later.
Bruce leans back and gets Barry on his lap, pressed close against him. Content to make out for a moment, nudging him to capture his mouth again. Hold still, he might say, but it'd be warm and teasing. He glides his hands down over his chest and lower, one palm pressing over the closure of his pants. Bruce's touch is confident, those threads of near-hesitation from earlier chased away by the catalyst of orgasm, but he still stops short of prying a button open. ]
Can I touch you?
[ His other hand is on Barry's thigh, thumb rubbing tense, needful circles into the muscle. I want to.
Asking can be plenty erotic. He doesn't talk much, but doesn't think words ruin the mood when they happen. How pleasing, to be able to hear and say yes. ]
[ Now the question remains if his feelings towards Barry and... all of this... will become just as Intense or if all of this will dissolve into nothing more than a wet dream between them.
Barry lets Bruce chase after his lips with his own, the stifled sound of a laugh caught somewhere in there as he holds either side of the other man's neck and hums a little happily into that kiss. Barry's brimming with electric energy again, if the way he rocks slowly against Bruce's lap while brushing his lips over his isn't any sort of indication of that. A handful, for sure, and not one to tire so easily due to how quickly he can recover from... many things.
But he peels himself away from that hazy bliss he's sinking into again and leans back enough to look to Bruce when he asks him that. When that hand hovers and gently tugs at the front of his pants. He'd be an even more terrible liar than usual if he tried to play it off that he wasn't aching to be touched by Bruce, especially after having blown him as eagerly as he had and how amazing Bruce looked and sounded during it. Those little circles he makes on his thigh cause Barry's eyes to slip shut for a moment and, again, he hums, letting himself enjoy the feeling for just a second, cock already hard. ]
Yeah... [ He breathes the word out, licking over his lips as eyes flutter open. ] ...I really want you to.
He makes a sound - mm - low and pleased. Bruce undoes the closure of his trousers, gets his hand inside, dragging his fingers over his cock in his underwear. Only spending a moment there, though, finding him so hard. He pulls it back and down, freeing him, circling his hand around it. ]
You really worked yourself up, [ Bruce murmurs against him as he strokes his cock. A firm grip, long fingers and broad palm sketched over with callouses from work and violence, pulling from root to tip without any hesitation. It threatens to get him cranked again, knowing Barry's this turned on by blowing him. He jostles Barry in his lap a bit, getting the layers of fabric covering him to hitch back another inch or two, just to have access to more skin. ] How close do you think you are?
[ Barry feels like lightning in a jar, barely contained under his hands. He cradles his balls, rubs at them and the base of his cock, other hand shifting to get a hold of his ass to keep him there on his lap. Slides his hand up his cock, learning him, stroking along sensitive veins, holding the crown and tracing his fingertips over it. Bruce rubs the pad of his index finger right over the slit, just barely more than feather-light. ]
[ Of course he's worked himself up. Sucking the cock of the guy you have a crush on kind of tends to do that to a person. Especially one as eager (in so many ways) as Barry Allen. The awkward twenty-five year old criminal justice major who happens to move at super speeds and finally feels as if he's found a place for himself among others who are similar to him in their own ways. People who, he looks up to, would do anything for... ran back in time for. Maybe the world needs someone like Barry in it to give it a second chance, to bring hope when everything seems without it. But Barry needs them. Barry needs Bruce and he'd run back again for him... something a future version of himself has already done, it seems; their relationship with one another that far ahead something he has to almost wonder about now.
But he can't wonder about that when Bruce is touching him like he is. All he can do is make lovely little sounds there on his lap, head dropping against the other man's shoulder as he does. The way Bruce touches him is nothing like how he touches himself and to have those fingers on his own aching cock is a sort of relief he's been desperate for from the moment they first kissed. ]
I - close. [ He breathes the words against the warmth of Bruce's neck, fingers sliding up to hold the other side of it as he hums at how good it feels to be fondled and touched like he is. ] But I'll just go again after. It helps when my stamina is so high.
[ In other words, you may need to try and keep up with him, Brucey.
Lifting his head up, he holds tight to Bruce's neck and moans, breathless, head bowed and eyes shut as he lets himself enjoy the feel of those fingers stroking him over, teasing and playing with him to elicit those shaky little hums and sounds out of him.
Eyes fluttering open, he looks to Bruce through dark lashes and a thick haze lingering there in his eyes for only a moment, coming to press his forehead against the other man's as he breathes against him. Nuzzling him. Enjoying him and those fingers on his cock. ]
Not that I've... experimented or anything just - a theory I have. One of many.
[ Barry's responsiveness almost makes him shiver; it does make heat begin to coil again low in his abdomen, curling up his spine. His pants are still undone, vulgar and exposed there between them. Bruce noses at him when Barry presses in like that, and strokes his gorgeous cock some more.
Then, perhaps unpleasantly, lets go of it. But it's only to raise his hand to Barry's mouth, and slide his fingers against his lips, inside. ]
Do you think, [ he says against him, sliding his index finger over the younger man's tongue, getting it nice and wet, ] that the idea of you making yourself come over and over isn't one of the hottest things I've ever imagined?
[ A theory, sure. Bruce presses a kiss to his cheekbone and reclaims his hand, reaches down with it to take hold of Barry's cock again. Jerking him quicker, firmer, now, intent clear in the way he touches him. ]
[ He's started to rock himself a little there in Bruce's lap, short, quick breaths spilling from his lips as he edges closer to his own orgasm. But Bruce stops touching him all of a sudden and Barry stares to him a haze of no please don't stop why are you stopping when it feels so good, only to taste the tips of those fingers on his lips and be made to take them in his mouth. Which he does. Eagerly.
The sounds he makes around Bruce's fingers are slow and heady, as if enjoying the feel of having something in his mouth again. He sucks them as he would - did - his cock, gaze dark and dreamy, wanting Bruce to see just how much he enjoys it. Because he does. Absolutely none of this is an act or a means to try and impress the other man. This is just something he's wanted, he's thought about, even maybe hoped for in some secret, things-I-will-never-tell way and now that he has it, he plans to thoroughly enjoy it and Bruce for as long as he can.
To know that he's one of the hottest things that Bruce has ever imagined in a very sexual and very filthy was is a sort of praise that shoots straight to his cock. God, Bruce. You can't just say shit like that and not expect him to get even more turned on when you're the very thing and person he's gotten himself off to a number of times in private. Such praise is like catnip to Barry and the pleased little sound he makes is enough to show as much, laving those fingers with his tongue, almost wishing they'd fuck his mouth.
But Bruce has other plans that Barry is more than willing to go along with and to have those fingers back on his cock again is everything he needs and wants, especially with the almost permission he has to give in and come. Yes, sir. Right away sir. Barry's moans are heavier, mouth open and eyes shut as Bruce jerks him the way that he does. He's close. He's so fucking close. A hand blindly touches at Bruce's face and arms wind tightly around his neck as breaths quicken and panting becomes more of a thing he can't stop himself from doing. ]
Oh my god β Bruce. I'm gonnaβ
[ Come. Which he does. Hard and fast. Shooting ropes of cum that spills over Bruce's fingers and maybe even gets on his shirt there at his stomach. It's a mess, just like Barry himself is there on Bruce's lap, riding out the heaviness of his orgasm with head tilted back and then bumping forward at Bruce's, faint gasp just barely there on his lips. ]
[ Feeling Barry climax like this, wet all over his hand, pressed up to him so every tense and shiver radiates, is exquisite. Bruce holds him, giving his cock gentle strokes through it and after, and presses his mouth to the younger man's. Not a real kiss, letting him breathe still, but wanting to be near him. His other hand slides up his back to hold him better, rubbing him soothingly.
He wonders how lonely Barry's been. If it's anything like how Bruce has felt. He hopes he doesn't build up the same maladaptive armor he has, he's soβ
Just, sweet. So much of a better person. Bruce gives him a proper kiss this time and leans back, separating enough so that he can raise his hand to his own mouth and drag his tongue over it, licking off still-warm ejaculate. Observing Barry as he does. Bruce has no real faith in his own ability to look particularly enticing while being sexually performative, but he wants this anyway. Bitter and unpleasant but powerfully erotic. He hums lowly and bumps his forehead against Barry's. After a moment he sits forward, both hands moving to support the speedster's weight so that he can shift them and tip him onto the sofa lengthwise on his back, with Bruce over him. ]
Serious about that? [ he asks, slipping both hands in under his shirt to pet at his stomach, sides, and lower, over the lines of his hips. ]
[ Bruce might not be trying to look enticing or seductive, but the way he licks that mess off his fingers has Barry sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and biting back a soft moan at the sight because β Jesus Christ.
The bump to his forehead gets a smile to pull at the corners of his lips, soft and gentle much as Barry himself is beneath the awkward, and with arms lazily dropping away from those shoulders, he finds himself shifting at the request of Bruce. Now on his back, Bruce there over him. To say the sight doesn't make his breath catch for a moment would be nothing short of a lie. He's maybe thought of such a moment like this a couple times already in private, so to have it here, now, like this... Barry can only just admire the way the man looks above him, completely devoted to him and this moment here.
Fingers trace over a bicep as he lays there, back arching and a soft breath leaving his lips as he feels those hands wander beneath his shirt. His head still buzzes from how good it'd been to come as he did, but he can feel little pinpricks of arousal running up his spine with every passing second of this; that second wind creeping its way in. ]
I seriously think hard swerving to R was a good idea.
[ Even if he's never actually gone all the way with another guy before. But, you know, details. ]
[ Bruce pulls his shirt up, tucking it at his armpits and smoothing his hands over Barry's chest. Wondering what kind of marks his accelerated healing has washed away; Just got the wind knocked out of me. Sure you did. He thumbs over a nipple just to see his reaction, settling down lower, knees shifting his weight. ]
It was, [ he says, agreement warm in his voice, before he kisses him. And even though he's just agreed about the R rating, he doesn't move to do more than that. Making out is an overlooked luxury, though. Bruce would like to remember this. All of it. Soft wet noises and the look on Barry's face, the way he's framed beneath him, the pace of his breathing.
In between intently working at his mouth, he tells him, ] You feel good. You taste good.
[ Bruce lets his teeth close around Barry's lower lip as he pulls back, only to press in again, curl his tongue around the younger man's. He's not the best at affirmations or encouraging dirty talk, but an instinct tells him that validation will be welcome. I like this. I want to be here, too.
Though he wonders when the rasp of his not-quite-beard will become uncomfortable. (He shaves, sometimes even twice a day, but it's a lost cause. To make a dent he'd have to wax it like he does everywhere else.) Bruce tries to keep an eye on the flush of his skin, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. ]
[ Oh the marks he would have if not for that accelerated healing of his. Luckily, it doesn't leave any scars behind to show the number of times he's been hit, especially by genocidal alien guns. Hurts like absolute Hell in the moment, but nothing more than a distant memory after the handful of seconds or minutes it takes. Thanks, accelerated healing.
It's not so much the way Bruce kisses and touches him as it is the praise he's given that makes Barry squirm against him all hot and bothered. Fingers lifting to card through that dusting of salt and pepper Bruce has going on while his others ghost along the curve of his spine, pressing into him with soft little moans that show his pleasure in being given such affection. He likes the way he's touched, the way Bruce feels a little scruffy against his skin every time lips trail away from his own, wandering over the warmth of his skin that sometimes shivers for him purely from how nice that feels alone. He likes a lot of things. I like you.
He slots Bruce between his legs, hands smoothing down the front of the other man's chest, and he tilts his head back, eyes closed, drinking up how good it feels to have those lips and hands on him wherever they so please. ]
I bet you feel good. So... big.
[ It's a whole half a second after his saying that that he huffs a laugh then, head tilting back a little further before he groans at his own words and brings his head back up to nose Bruce, hands smoothing over his neck. ]
I'm... really bad at this. So sexy, right? Like β what am I supposed to say? Pound me with your thick cock?
[ Despite the Super Sexy Moment they're having here on the couch, Barry chuckles soft and warm against the other man's lips and even comes to duck his head a little sheepishly at All Of That. The fact that he can be like this with Bruce, that he doesn't need to be oozing sexual confidence to the point that he's practically soaking Bruce in it is... nice. Because as much as Bruce wants to let this moment last, remember every little look and sound and gasp that falls from parted lips, Barry wants to as well. Wants to enjoy the slowness of a moment that's forever seconds away from becoming a memory.
Gently, he brushes the pad of his thumb over Bruce's bottom lip, dragging it down slow before he leans in to steal a kiss. ]
[ Bruce isn't the type to choke on a laugh, but his eyebrows do a thing. They go up at that first bit, and then up even more at the rest. Somewhere internally he does laugh, and there's the spirit of a wheezed 'what the fuck' in the expressions happening on half his face.
He strokes a hand over Barry's head, smoothing his hair back, and then, gravelly and serious, ] No one's ever composed poetry for me before in the moment.
[ BARRY.
PLS.
Anyway. Teasing aside - he can't escape now, even if he IS fast!!! - Bruce finds himself considering the possibility of actually fucking. Not here, he doesn't have anything, and it would be rude; Barry is his friend and teammate, ally, a confidant. Not inviting him into a bedroom proper would be galling. Especially when something about I bet you feel good strikes him as v-word hypothesizing.
More kissing, for a little while, Bruce humming something pleased against him. And then he shifts back and down, kissing his throat, skimming over the bunched-up fabric of his shirt and getting to his chest. There is no sexy way to do this shimmy, but he can at least manage it gracefully. Appropriate use of ninja skills.
He glances up, and considering all that, he asks, ] You in a hurry?
[ Have you ever considered just actually laughing, Bruce? Might do you a world of wonders, just saying.
He murmurs something about composing poetry on the spot being another one of his special skills he'd neglected to tell Bruce the first time around but it's a little jumbled together what with the way he's being kissed and touched again. Dirty talk might not be A Thing he's all that great at but, turns out? He's pretty good with his mouth in other ways, so.
Pleasantly lost in the way those lips feel dipping lower and lower, he blinks his eyes open when Bruce asks about whether or not he's in a hurry and he tilts his head there against the couch cushion, fingers rubbing over a shoulder as he looks to him; he just feels the need to touch him. ]
Considering I can be in Central City within a few seconds? No. I... never am. Usually. World possibly ending aside. Or β there was this one time on the bus when this lady was taking forever to pay for her fare and I really thought I was going to lose my mind because I was late for an interview that wasn't even for a job I wanted, but. [ A beat, realizing he's rambling, he huffs a quiet laugh. ] Not important. No. I'm not in a hurry right now.
[ But he's definitely got that second wind if the energy he has isn't anything to go by. ]
[ Bruce 'mmhms' his way down Barry's torso, listening to his charming babble, mapping him with his mouth, his hands. He presses against his heart chakra, and the one below it on his solar plexus, and sacral. Smoothing out motions to encourage energy flow. He's noticed the way Barry holds himself sometimes, and who knows if it's hobbyist yoga, or what, but Bruce is also into nerdy meditation shit, so. It's just nice, he thinks. Draws his fingers down parts of the stomach meridian. Snack hole.
And, because why wouldn't he, Bruce finds a spot on the curve of his hip to sink his teeth into - carefully, at first, testing the waters - and wonders how long hickeys last.
He looks up - ] Good. Because I wanted to suck to you off.
[ He wraps Barry's cock in one hand, loose and easy, giving him gentle strokes and watching his face. Bruce can get hard again too (is on his way, the longer they continued), but he'll need more than a metahuman's quick recovery time. If he's serious about his stamina, why not? He can think of few things better to devote some time to, than making Barry feel good, for as many hours as he can wring out of this night. (Day, soon.) ]
[ Charming babble is such a sweet way to put it, especially when he's super capable of "babbling" for extended periods of time until needing to be told to just shush. But the fact that Bruce would also be into chakras and meridians and grounding oneself amidst that inner peace is pretty cool and Barry could easily get behind that with him. Just, you know, when he's not being marked and threatened to have a good time of getting his cock sucked. Sort of takes priority over how over or underactive are your chakras, my guy?
The bite to the curve of his hip has Barry gasp a little unexpectedly and he finds his cock twitch bit, a telltale sign of yes, he likes and yes, please more, sir. But it's the words that follow that really make him hard, cock springing to life in the other man's hand as he strokes him, face already a little flushed because... that is definitely not a thing he's imagined before. Seriously. Him sucking off Bruce? Sure. But Bruce with his cock in his mouth? Can't say he's ever thought that could be a thing before and his mind blanks for just a couple seconds on the possibility of it being real.
Licking over his lips, he swallows thickly after a moment, then chuckles a little breathlessly as he looks down to Bruce there between his long legs. ]
That's like β probably the hottest thing anyone's ever said to me. Other than your meal's on the house.
[ Trust.
But the thrill it gives him already has a wet bead of precome there at the slit of his cock and Barry bites down a little harshly on his lower lip. Not necessarily embarrassed with how eager he is again, just... eager. ]
You trying to see how much it takes before you can sexually exhaust me?
[ C'mon, Barry, open chakras prepare the spirit and body to accept positive feelings, and enhance sexual pleasure. Get into these hippie waters.
(In fairness, getting his cock sucked will also enhance sexual pleasure. Probably more so.)
He strokes him, thumbs over the tip to spread that wetness, rests it there to rub at it. For a long moment he just holds him there as he gets back to that spot on his hip, worrying a darker mark into his skin. Feeling as he gets harder, fills out in his hand. Bruce presses the younger man's cock up against his belly when he raises his head to finally answer, palm flat, moving it oh-so-slightly up and down. ]
If I had to bet, I'd say you'll win, [ Bruce muses, keeping up that barely-there rub. ] But I like the idea of giving it a shot. Do you?
[ Barry could always end up getting bored. Who knows. Bruce presses the thumb of his other hand into the bruise forming on his hipbone. For his part, Bruce is mostly used to sleeping with women - not by any means inexperienced with men, but life goes a certain way - and he tends to think just the once is kind of rude, in those encounters. Why fuck if you're going to be bad at it. The idea of getting Barry off over and over is powerfully erotic. ]
[ Well, Bruce. You just might get your wish in wanting to get this speedster off as may times as you can since Barry is quite willing and eager to go along with that because, you know, it's you and all. Add to that the fact that he's never done a Sex Marathon of sorts and sure, he's all for it. Especially with seeing just how much he can take before he really does need a break for himself. His metabolism and stamina might be fast and beefed up, but he still gets tired, still gets depleted like anyone else and yeah, he's going to need a lot to eat after to get his energy back up. Good thing Bruce is covered there, right?
He squirms against the couch in a way that feels good even to him and the sounds he makes for Bruce are lovely and eager and needy in every way they possibly can be. His experience might not be godly when it comes to sleeping with men but damn if he isn't doing a good job getting Barry to feel things he's never quite felt before; the fact that it's Bruce probably adds to that as well. ]
That's β that's a very good idea, yeah.
[ He breathes out a laugh as he arches his back, humming in a way that shows he likes what Bruce is both saying and doing and he blindly reaches down to rest trembling fingers on a shoulder, gripping tight. ]
You know β sometimes I think about you. [ Swallowing, he takes a moment to appreciate how he feels before continuing. ] And you've outdone every sort of thought that I've ever had about you. A hundred times over.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sprays it away from u
When he feels that hand drop first to his shoulder, then slide its way up to his neck, he looks up to Bruce, lips wrapped around the head of that thick cock, eyes fixated on him as he does. The way he breathes and the way he sits there isn't lost on Barry and it's a gentle sort of reassurance that this is good, this is right, this is something he wants. Because he wants this as well, even if certain other might caution against this, especially if this ends up being more than a one-off sort of thing. Usually there's rules about not dating any work colleagues, never mind blowing the boss, but. It's different. Or so Barry tells himself. Their whole thing is different. Because, sure, they're a team. But they also have their own lives, their own cities, their own places to be when they're not working together. It's fine. All of this is fine and no one even needs to really know anyways. Even with Barry's penchant for not being the greatest at keeping who he is a secret, there are some things he can keep to himself and he figures Bruce can too. Even from Alfred? Maybe fifty-fifty there. (you're a bad liar when you try it with him after all, bruce)
But with the gentle reassurance given in the form of that hand on his neck, Barry slides his lips down the thick shaft of the other man and takes as much of him as he can into his mouth with an eager little hum. Quick as he is, he's slow with his movements as he swallows him, head bobbing and fingers stroking. Taking whatever he can into his mouth and welcoming it every time he slides back down, relaxing his throat to take just a little more each time. ]
thank
It is different. This isn't work. This isn't like anything else; there's no comparison to draw. If Bruce were pressed to dissect the psychological implications of the amount of stress and trauma bonding they've collectively been through together, he might say it's actually more surprising that they aren't all fucking.
But they aren't. It's this, a nervous, if genuine overture in private, sinking into quicksand after a reality-splitting revelation. Thoughts swirl in Bruce's head and some of them wonder about the shape of this encounter, and if it's like desperation. You're real, I'm real, neither of us is about to be pulled away through time and space. If it's doubling down after sheepish awkward socializing. If it's revelling in the cure for loneliness; they understand each other. They aren't hiding, or lying.
If it's like all of that.
His breath hitches once as Barry takes him in, and it's followed by a rough exhale. Bruce moves his hand higher, splayed out against the side of his cheek, fingers curled towards the back of his skull. Holding him and feeling the way his jaw moves as he sucks his cock, his forearm brushing against the younger man's as he moves.
Bruce is not a talker. Unlikely to be a surprise. But he watches him intently. His mouth feels good, and it's almost a shock to realize that, yes, Barry is good at this. Not that he looks like someone who'd be bad, or something, but he perhaps simply hasn't considered Barry Allen as someone spending a lot of free time working up his skills. But it's impressive, anyway, and Bruce finally moves his other hand - up until now still at his side, as if restrained - to card through his dark hair and drag blunt fingernails over his scalp. ]
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obsessiondetermination in freeing his father, in feeling helpless with no one listening to or believing him. In feeling that he had to do it all on his own. By himself. Because that's all he had with his father behind bars.Bruce knows that loneliness. That sort of inability to seemingly forge genuine connections with others in a way where you can leave yourself open and vulnerable to it and them. While they may not entirely be there just yet (and who's to say they ever will be with the man's own hangups and issues), there's still some semblance of that that Barry is able to grasp and hold onto it and he doesn't wish to let it go. With him or any of them.
He doesn't need filthy praise spilling from his lips of how good of a boy he is for being so eager and willing to blow him like this on the sofa in the... back here. All he needs are sounds and touches that make him vibrate in a way that isn't the speed force's doing, and Bruce gives him just that. Especially when those fingers find their way in his hair, dragging over his scalp.
The sound he makes is muffled but eager, a way to show and tell that he likes it. Both his cock currently stroking the inside of his mouth and the way he's touched as if to coax him into giving more. And he does. Happily. Fingers stroking what doesn't find its way in his mouth (yet) while the wet muscle of his tongue lavishes that thick cock he sucks on with wet and almost lewd noises. Cheeks hollowed, he pulls back from Bruce a little and lets his cock slip out of his mouth with a wet little pop as he does. Eyes hazy, fingers pumping him, he smiles up to the man for what must feel like a half a second or so before he takes him back into his mouth and, this time, lets him bump the back of his throat every time he bobs down. Mouth wet, fingers squeezing at the base, tongue caressing the heaviness resting against it. Barry takes every inch he's given and shows him that He Likes It. He likes him. ]
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With a shock that has nothing to do with the electromagnetic echoes of Barry's power, Bruce realizes this is the first sexual contact he's had since before everything went to shit, and that'sβ
Interesting. Both that it's this, and that he didn't notice he'd stopped. For a while there it was just another spoke on the wheel of his downward spiral, another addiction to lose himself in alongside too much alcohol chasing handfuls of medication. And before that, when he enjoyed it at all, when was the last time he was with anyone who actually knew who he was? Selina, probably. Selina, who doesn't actually like the person he is in between, because that person is neither as dangerous and thrilling as Batman or as charming as a socialite. ]
Fuck, [ leaves him, quiet and breathless. It feels good, his enjoyment is viscerally apparent in how hard he is, the way precome beads at the tip of his cock, even as it's so quickly vanished from Barry's enthusiastic attention. Watching the younger man and his brilliant, pornographic smile, he thinks he should probably tell his body he's allowed to find an end to this. More difficult to switch off when he doesn't have someone else's pleasure to pay attention to. But here it feels just on the edge, like he wants to make that switch, turn it, fall.
Rougherβ ] Barry.
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When Bruce says his name all rough and raspy as he does, Barry looks up to him with a dreamy sort of something in his eyes. Hearing Bruce say his name like that... it does things to him, shoots straight to his own cock in his pants, and makes him want to draw more of that sound, that way he says his name out of him. Because he likes it. He really really does.
His mouth becomes more eager on that cock, sounds wet and lewd as he steadily takes him in over and over again. There's almost something messy about the way he does, stroking what he doesn't have in his mouth while lapping up whatever precome he's given. Sometimes he moans around him. Other times, he looks up to him, mouth full of cock. Completely lost in whatever all of this is and finding that he likes it and wants Bruce to like it too.
He goes so far as to deepthroat him a couple times, letting the head of that cock bump the back of his throat before he finds himself needing to pull back with a gasp, lips shiny and wet that he licks over with a hum. Bruce is big and even someone with the sort of stamina that he has, there's only so much he can take before he just needs a minute. ]
You can come in my mouth. Hard swerve to R, remember?
[ A slightly humorous attempt at dirty talk, he smiles to Bruce, eagerly pumping that cock before it's back in his mouth and he's sucking on him like it's the only thing he or wants or needs. Because he wants it. Wants Bruce to find that release he so desperately needs and fill his mouth with spurts of cum for him to take and swallow down. That's what he wants as he makes his mouth coax that desire out of him in any way that it can. ]
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Hard swerve to R. ]
I remember, [ he says, and with eyes closed it might almost sound like Bruce is laughing. Close as he gets, anyway. His breath hitches, he makes a sound like Ahβ
It's unbelievably hot, watching Barry choke on his dick like he needs it to breathe. He moves his other hand to the side of the younger man's face, pressing against his cheek, feeling his own cock in his mouth, watching him with arousal-blown eyes. Leaking so much now, riding right there at the precipice, everything drawn tight and swollen. ]
Fuck, fuck, look at you. [ Half-growled but still quiet. Even in bed he's too in the habit of burying himself. His hips flinch up once before he stops himself, the accidental slip shooting through him like a lance. He feels himself throb, and he swipes his thumb along Barry's lower lip, holding his face. His cock twitches and he thinks I should say, but the thought doesn't finish, and his orgasm is like a gut-punch. Instead he almost chokes on an inhale, clenches his teeth, groans, comes hot and hard and maybe too much. ]
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So when Bruce pushes into his mouth, even if for just a moment, Barry moans around him at how good it feels. How good it is to have Bruce force him to take just a little more than he's already taking. The praise fills Barry with an overwhelming desire to give him whatever he wants and he glances up to him when he feels that hand holding his face. He can only imagine what he looks like down here between his legs for Bruce, mouth stuffed with his cock he keeps taking, but from where he is on his knees between those legs, Bruce looks like that torn masterpiece he's thought about countless times and he doesn't want to be rid of that image just yet.
But then his mouth is filled with cum and he takes what he's fed with a guttural moan. He swallows what he can, greedy and desperate to take it all, but it proves to be a little too much for him (it's not like he's out sucking dick on the daily) and chokes on it to the point of having to pull back, gasping. He desperately takes what he can't on his tongue, splotches of that hot cum both on his cheek and dribbling from his lips, making him a literal mess there on his knees. He pumps that cock even as Bruce comes, milking as much from him as he can and he lets him paint his tongue in white before he comes to lick over his lips and slowly make a show of swallowing what he's been given.
Lips wrapping around that thick head, he sucks on him for just a little, making sure he gets it all, before he lazily pulls himself off and sighs there on his knees, an arm coming to drape over Bruce's leg. Leaning there, he admires the other's cock he lazily squeezes before he looks up to Bruce, wearing his mess on his face. ]
That was... hot.
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Reality reshapes. Bruce's breathing is ragged, but he doesn't force it to even out any quicker than naturally. Lets himself have it. Lets Barry have the honesty of his reaction. (Fleeting as it may be. His brain doesn't go offline for long.)
Speaking of.
Bruce looks at Barry, with his reddened mouth and dishevelled hair, sitting there between his knees, his cock still obscenely out, taking its sweet time to bother going soft. Yes, he thinks. Agrees silently. It was hot. And still is. Bruce leans down, curls over, his hands still on the younger man. He kisses him hard and deep, fucking his mouth with his tongue, eating the taste of himself out of him, sucking at his tongue and lips and scraping teeth along his jaw. Slow and searing and pointed. Something in the way he clutches at him his proprietary, as if pinning in him place.
His voice is a low rumble when he speaks, barely pulling away, his mouth brushing against his skin. ] Come here.
[ Bruce pulls at him, gracefully encouraging gracelessness. ]
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But then Bruce is suddenly kissing him - hard - and Barry's breath catches in the back of his throat before he falls into it, into him, lingering worries dissolved into that kiss that practically burns his lips. Unabashed with how he feels, he lets himself moan loudly into that kiss, letting Bruce take whatever he wants from him. Fingers grip at the front of the other man's shirt and Barry rushes to keep up with how hard and deep Bruce kisses him, ending up a fumbled mess of need and want for this man even after having swallowed his cum as messily as he had.
When Bruce asks - demands? - what he does of him, Barry stares to him in a bit of a daze because... is there more? Is Bruce not going to awkwardly shimmy his way out of this or ask if he needs a ride home? It takes Barry all of three seconds before he's letting himself be pulled as Bruce wants and he bumps his head against the other man's as he kisses him again. Eager. Needy. Feeling that second wind of his already kicking in because of his stamina.
Unable to help himself, he kisses along Bruce's neck, breath heavy, hands wandering over the front of his chest. Needing to touch him and taste him again already, getting caught up in all of this all over again. ]
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Later.
Bruce leans back and gets Barry on his lap, pressed close against him. Content to make out for a moment, nudging him to capture his mouth again. Hold still, he might say, but it'd be warm and teasing. He glides his hands down over his chest and lower, one palm pressing over the closure of his pants. Bruce's touch is confident, those threads of near-hesitation from earlier chased away by the catalyst of orgasm, but he still stops short of prying a button open. ]
Can I touch you?
[ His other hand is on Barry's thigh, thumb rubbing tense, needful circles into the muscle. I want to.
Asking can be plenty erotic. He doesn't talk much, but doesn't think words ruin the mood when they happen. How pleasing, to be able to hear and say yes. ]
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Barry lets Bruce chase after his lips with his own, the stifled sound of a laugh caught somewhere in there as he holds either side of the other man's neck and hums a little happily into that kiss. Barry's brimming with electric energy again, if the way he rocks slowly against Bruce's lap while brushing his lips over his isn't any sort of indication of that. A handful, for sure, and not one to tire so easily due to how quickly he can recover from... many things.
But he peels himself away from that hazy bliss he's sinking into again and leans back enough to look to Bruce when he asks him that. When that hand hovers and gently tugs at the front of his pants. He'd be an even more terrible liar than usual if he tried to play it off that he wasn't aching to be touched by Bruce, especially after having blown him as eagerly as he had and how amazing Bruce looked and sounded during it. Those little circles he makes on his thigh cause Barry's eyes to slip shut for a moment and, again, he hums, letting himself enjoy the feeling for just a second, cock already hard. ]
Yeah... [ He breathes the word out, licking over his lips as eyes flutter open. ] ...I really want you to.
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He makes a sound - mm - low and pleased. Bruce undoes the closure of his trousers, gets his hand inside, dragging his fingers over his cock in his underwear. Only spending a moment there, though, finding him so hard. He pulls it back and down, freeing him, circling his hand around it. ]
You really worked yourself up, [ Bruce murmurs against him as he strokes his cock. A firm grip, long fingers and broad palm sketched over with callouses from work and violence, pulling from root to tip without any hesitation. It threatens to get him cranked again, knowing Barry's this turned on by blowing him. He jostles Barry in his lap a bit, getting the layers of fabric covering him to hitch back another inch or two, just to have access to more skin. ] How close do you think you are?
[ Barry feels like lightning in a jar, barely contained under his hands. He cradles his balls, rubs at them and the base of his cock, other hand shifting to get a hold of his ass to keep him there on his lap. Slides his hand up his cock, learning him, stroking along sensitive veins, holding the crown and tracing his fingertips over it. Bruce rubs the pad of his index finger right over the slit, just barely more than feather-light. ]
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But he can't wonder about that when Bruce is touching him like he is. All he can do is make lovely little sounds there on his lap, head dropping against the other man's shoulder as he does. The way Bruce touches him is nothing like how he touches himself and to have those fingers on his own aching cock is a sort of relief he's been desperate for from the moment they first kissed. ]
I - close. [ He breathes the words against the warmth of Bruce's neck, fingers sliding up to hold the other side of it as he hums at how good it feels to be fondled and touched like he is. ] But I'll just go again after. It helps when my stamina is so high.
[ In other words, you may need to try and keep up with him, Brucey.
Lifting his head up, he holds tight to Bruce's neck and moans, breathless, head bowed and eyes shut as he lets himself enjoy the feel of those fingers stroking him over, teasing and playing with him to elicit those shaky little hums and sounds out of him.
Eyes fluttering open, he looks to Bruce through dark lashes and a thick haze lingering there in his eyes for only a moment, coming to press his forehead against the other man's as he breathes against him. Nuzzling him. Enjoying him and those fingers on his cock. ]
Not that I've... experimented or anything just - a theory I have. One of many.
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Then, perhaps unpleasantly, lets go of it. But it's only to raise his hand to Barry's mouth, and slide his fingers against his lips, inside. ]
Do you think, [ he says against him, sliding his index finger over the younger man's tongue, getting it nice and wet, ] that the idea of you making yourself come over and over isn't one of the hottest things I've ever imagined?
[ A theory, sure. Bruce presses a kiss to his cheekbone and reclaims his hand, reaches down with it to take hold of Barry's cock again. Jerking him quicker, firmer, now, intent clear in the way he touches him. ]
Why don't you show me how many.
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The sounds he makes around Bruce's fingers are slow and heady, as if enjoying the feel of having something in his mouth again. He sucks them as he would - did - his cock, gaze dark and dreamy, wanting Bruce to see just how much he enjoys it. Because he does. Absolutely none of this is an act or a means to try and impress the other man. This is just something he's wanted, he's thought about, even maybe hoped for in some secret, things-I-will-never-tell way and now that he has it, he plans to thoroughly enjoy it and Bruce for as long as he can.
To know that he's one of the hottest things that Bruce has ever imagined in a very sexual and very filthy was is a sort of praise that shoots straight to his cock. God, Bruce. You can't just say shit like that and not expect him to get even more turned on when you're the very thing and person he's gotten himself off to a number of times in private. Such praise is like catnip to Barry and the pleased little sound he makes is enough to show as much, laving those fingers with his tongue, almost wishing they'd fuck his mouth.
But Bruce has other plans that Barry is more than willing to go along with and to have those fingers back on his cock again is everything he needs and wants, especially with the almost permission he has to give in and come. Yes, sir. Right away sir. Barry's moans are heavier, mouth open and eyes shut as Bruce jerks him the way that he does. He's close. He's so fucking close. A hand blindly touches at Bruce's face and arms wind tightly around his neck as breaths quicken and panting becomes more of a thing he can't stop himself from doing. ]
Oh my god β Bruce. I'm gonnaβ
[ Come. Which he does. Hard and fast. Shooting ropes of cum that spills over Bruce's fingers and maybe even gets on his shirt there at his stomach. It's a mess, just like Barry himself is there on Bruce's lap, riding out the heaviness of his orgasm with head tilted back and then bumping forward at Bruce's, faint gasp just barely there on his lips. ]
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He wonders how lonely Barry's been. If it's anything like how Bruce has felt. He hopes he doesn't build up the same maladaptive armor he has, he's soβ
Just, sweet. So much of a better person. Bruce gives him a proper kiss this time and leans back, separating enough so that he can raise his hand to his own mouth and drag his tongue over it, licking off still-warm ejaculate. Observing Barry as he does. Bruce has no real faith in his own ability to look particularly enticing while being sexually performative, but he wants this anyway. Bitter and unpleasant but powerfully erotic. He hums lowly and bumps his forehead against Barry's. After a moment he sits forward, both hands moving to support the speedster's weight so that he can shift them and tip him onto the sofa lengthwise on his back, with Bruce over him. ]
Serious about that? [ he asks, slipping both hands in under his shirt to pet at his stomach, sides, and lower, over the lines of his hips. ]
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The bump to his forehead gets a smile to pull at the corners of his lips, soft and gentle much as Barry himself is beneath the awkward, and with arms lazily dropping away from those shoulders, he finds himself shifting at the request of Bruce. Now on his back, Bruce there over him. To say the sight doesn't make his breath catch for a moment would be nothing short of a lie. He's maybe thought of such a moment like this a couple times already in private, so to have it here, now, like this... Barry can only just admire the way the man looks above him, completely devoted to him and this moment here.
Fingers trace over a bicep as he lays there, back arching and a soft breath leaving his lips as he feels those hands wander beneath his shirt. His head still buzzes from how good it'd been to come as he did, but he can feel little pinpricks of arousal running up his spine with every passing second of this; that second wind creeping its way in. ]
I seriously think hard swerving to R was a good idea.
[ Even if he's never actually gone all the way with another guy before. But, you know, details. ]
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It was, [ he says, agreement warm in his voice, before he kisses him. And even though he's just agreed about the R rating, he doesn't move to do more than that. Making out is an overlooked luxury, though. Bruce would like to remember this. All of it. Soft wet noises and the look on Barry's face, the way he's framed beneath him, the pace of his breathing.
In between intently working at his mouth, he tells him, ] You feel good. You taste good.
[ Bruce lets his teeth close around Barry's lower lip as he pulls back, only to press in again, curl his tongue around the younger man's. He's not the best at affirmations or encouraging dirty talk, but an instinct tells him that validation will be welcome. I like this. I want to be here, too.
Though he wonders when the rasp of his not-quite-beard will become uncomfortable. (He shaves, sometimes even twice a day, but it's a lost cause. To make a dent he'd have to wax it like he does everywhere else.) Bruce tries to keep an eye on the flush of his skin, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. ]
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It's not so much the way Bruce kisses and touches him as it is the praise he's given that makes Barry squirm against him all hot and bothered. Fingers lifting to card through that dusting of salt and pepper Bruce has going on while his others ghost along the curve of his spine, pressing into him with soft little moans that show his pleasure in being given such affection. He likes the way he's touched, the way Bruce feels a little scruffy against his skin every time lips trail away from his own, wandering over the warmth of his skin that sometimes shivers for him purely from how nice that feels alone. He likes a lot of things. I like you.
He slots Bruce between his legs, hands smoothing down the front of the other man's chest, and he tilts his head back, eyes closed, drinking up how good it feels to have those lips and hands on him wherever they so please. ]
I bet you feel good. So... big.
[ It's a whole half a second after his saying that that he huffs a laugh then, head tilting back a little further before he groans at his own words and brings his head back up to nose Bruce, hands smoothing over his neck. ]
I'm... really bad at this. So sexy, right? Like β what am I supposed to say? Pound me with your thick cock?
[ Despite the Super Sexy Moment they're having here on the couch, Barry chuckles soft and warm against the other man's lips and even comes to duck his head a little sheepishly at All Of That. The fact that he can be like this with Bruce, that he doesn't need to be oozing sexual confidence to the point that he's practically soaking Bruce in it is... nice. Because as much as Bruce wants to let this moment last, remember every little look and sound and gasp that falls from parted lips, Barry wants to as well. Wants to enjoy the slowness of a moment that's forever seconds away from becoming a memory.
Gently, he brushes the pad of his thumb over Bruce's bottom lip, dragging it down slow before he leans in to steal a kiss. ]
But I wouldn't say no.
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He strokes a hand over Barry's head, smoothing his hair back, and then, gravelly and serious, ] No one's ever composed poetry for me before in the moment.
[ BARRY.
PLS.
Anyway. Teasing aside - he can't escape now, even if he IS fast!!! - Bruce finds himself considering the possibility of actually fucking. Not here, he doesn't have anything, and it would be rude; Barry is his friend and teammate, ally, a confidant. Not inviting him into a bedroom proper would be galling. Especially when something about I bet you feel good strikes him as v-word hypothesizing.
More kissing, for a little while, Bruce humming something pleased against him. And then he shifts back and down, kissing his throat, skimming over the bunched-up fabric of his shirt and getting to his chest. There is no sexy way to do this shimmy, but he can at least manage it gracefully. Appropriate use of ninja skills.
He glances up, and considering all that, he asks, ] You in a hurry?
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He murmurs something about composing poetry on the spot being another one of his special skills he'd neglected to tell Bruce the first time around but it's a little jumbled together what with the way he's being kissed and touched again. Dirty talk might not be A Thing he's all that great at but, turns out? He's pretty good with his mouth in other ways, so.
Pleasantly lost in the way those lips feel dipping lower and lower, he blinks his eyes open when Bruce asks about whether or not he's in a hurry and he tilts his head there against the couch cushion, fingers rubbing over a shoulder as he looks to him; he just feels the need to touch him. ]
Considering I can be in Central City within a few seconds? No. I... never am. Usually. World possibly ending aside. Or β there was this one time on the bus when this lady was taking forever to pay for her fare and I really thought I was going to lose my mind because I was late for an interview that wasn't even for a job I wanted, but. [ A beat, realizing he's rambling, he huffs a quiet laugh. ] Not important. No. I'm not in a hurry right now.
[ But he's definitely got that second wind if the energy he has isn't anything to go by. ]
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And, because why wouldn't he, Bruce finds a spot on the curve of his hip to sink his teeth into - carefully, at first, testing the waters - and wonders how long hickeys last.
He looks up - ] Good. Because I wanted to suck to you off.
[ He wraps Barry's cock in one hand, loose and easy, giving him gentle strokes and watching his face. Bruce can get hard again too (is on his way, the longer they continued), but he'll need more than a metahuman's quick recovery time. If he's serious about his stamina, why not? He can think of few things better to devote some time to, than making Barry feel good, for as many hours as he can wring out of this night. (Day, soon.) ]
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The bite to the curve of his hip has Barry gasp a little unexpectedly and he finds his cock twitch bit, a telltale sign of yes, he likes and yes, please more, sir. But it's the words that follow that really make him hard, cock springing to life in the other man's hand as he strokes him, face already a little flushed because... that is definitely not a thing he's imagined before. Seriously. Him sucking off Bruce? Sure. But Bruce with his cock in his mouth? Can't say he's ever thought that could be a thing before and his mind blanks for just a couple seconds on the possibility of it being real.
Licking over his lips, he swallows thickly after a moment, then chuckles a little breathlessly as he looks down to Bruce there between his long legs. ]
That's like β probably the hottest thing anyone's ever said to me. Other than your meal's on the house.
[ Trust.
But the thrill it gives him already has a wet bead of precome there at the slit of his cock and Barry bites down a little harshly on his lower lip. Not necessarily embarrassed with how eager he is again, just... eager. ]
You trying to see how much it takes before you can sexually exhaust me?
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(In fairness, getting his cock sucked will also enhance sexual pleasure. Probably more so.)
He strokes him, thumbs over the tip to spread that wetness, rests it there to rub at it. For a long moment he just holds him there as he gets back to that spot on his hip, worrying a darker mark into his skin. Feeling as he gets harder, fills out in his hand. Bruce presses the younger man's cock up against his belly when he raises his head to finally answer, palm flat, moving it oh-so-slightly up and down. ]
If I had to bet, I'd say you'll win, [ Bruce muses, keeping up that barely-there rub. ] But I like the idea of giving it a shot. Do you?
[ Barry could always end up getting bored. Who knows. Bruce presses the thumb of his other hand into the bruise forming on his hipbone. For his part, Bruce is mostly used to sleeping with women - not by any means inexperienced with men, but life goes a certain way - and he tends to think just the once is kind of rude, in those encounters. Why fuck if you're going to be bad at it. The idea of getting Barry off over and over is powerfully erotic. ]
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He squirms against the couch in a way that feels good even to him and the sounds he makes for Bruce are lovely and eager and needy in every way they possibly can be. His experience might not be godly when it comes to sleeping with men but damn if he isn't doing a good job getting Barry to feel things he's never quite felt before; the fact that it's Bruce probably adds to that as well. ]
That's β that's a very good idea, yeah.
[ He breathes out a laugh as he arches his back, humming in a way that shows he likes what Bruce is both saying and doing and he blindly reaches down to rest trembling fingers on a shoulder, gripping tight. ]
You know β sometimes I think about you. [ Swallowing, he takes a moment to appreciate how he feels before continuing. ] And you've outdone every sort of thought that I've ever had about you. A hundred times over.
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