[ He hadn't been sure where any of this was looking to go or if anything, at all, was going to be "addressed" in some capacity. Things like that sort "ruin the magic" of the moment, he thinks. Because as much as his winding up in Bruce's fancy car had been done without any sort of intention of it leading to where they are right now, that's part of the magic of it all. With how impulsive and spontaneous one act and decision after another can lead to things one never planned on or expected to have happen. In this case? It's all nice. It's all really nice.
So when Bruce goes and agrees about not wanting to forget, Barry finds himself feeling lighter in the moment, in a way, a fleeting glance given down to the hands that smooth over his chest before he's looking back up to Bruce. ]
Then don't. Even if you're here and I'm there... I can always show up in a nanosecond when you need me. Or, the old fashioned way of flying on over in your private jet.
[ Huffing a laugh, the smile he wears is gentle yet warm, letting the pads of his thumb brush over the sides of Bruce's neck that he still holds to under the cascading warmth of water around them. ]
With those... nice and comfy seats. Really comfy seats.
[ That smile slowly turns into a grin and he pulls at Bruce just enough to be able to kiss him then, pressing a pleased little hum against those lips he indulges in. Wet kisses with Bruce Wayne in the shower. Something to check off the ol' bucket list. ]
Oh, is that it? [ Bruce's low voice is quiet under the fall of the water, intimate for the way only someone as physically close as Barry right now could hear, trading kisses in between words. ] You were in my car because you couldn't find the keys to the plane?
[ They can still fuck this up. (Bruce probably will fuck this up. It's his speciality.) But he really doesn't want to.
What he does want: to make out with Barry in the shower, so. He does just that, while lazily running soap-sudsy hands over him, pulling him in close so they can both get the benefit of it. Bruce is, what, half a foot taller than him, and it makes it a little funny to dip forward to get a good angle, but it also lets him crowd the younger man against the dark tiles. Slow and courteous, letting him alter their course if he wants. Unhurried, indulgent. This place has an endless supply of hot water, and there are still untested fancy shampoo bottles. They can take a minute. ]
[ Bruce's words coupled with all the kisses he's given and showered in tear the loveliest little sounds from the speedster, a never ending smile seemingly stuck there on his lips. He likes this. He really likes this. It's not even overwhelming to him so much as it is intoxicating and he finds he really doesn't want to let go of this moment. Not when he's had so many so unlike this before in his life.
When his back touches the dark tiles of the shower, he hums a little against the other man's lips, hands slipping away from his neck to smooth over arms and then that chest, head tilting up just enough to be able to drink up every single kiss the other man wants from him. In here, nothing else matters. Just this. Just Bruce. Just the feel of him pressed so close against him.
His thoughts circle back around to his being there in the other man's car, however, and he nips playfully at Bruce's bottom lip with a softened smile on his face. ]
Well, unlike some people, I don't do the whole breaking and entering thing. [ Just gonna gently call you out there, B-Man. However, Barry's gaze softens some then as he looks to Bruce. ] Actually β I wanted to ask you.
[ Licking over his lips, he leans his head back there against the dark tiles, looking to Bruce a little more seriously despite, you know, the whole being in the shower together and enjoying the whole making out thing. ]
You know a lot of people β powerful people, I guess and I was just wondering if maybe... you knew some people who could help with my dad. [ Again, he licks over his lips and he shakes his head. ] I'll pay you back w-whatever it costs with lawyers or whatever. I mean β once I start getting a steady income with my job at the police force, I s-should be able to make a... pretty decent living. Even if it's just a foot in the door kinda job right now.
[ Huffing a laugh, he scrunches his face up as he stares to Bruce's chest before he flicks his gaze back up to the man. ]
Just... if you can help... I'd really appreciate it. Maybe people will listen to powerful lawyers instead of some nine year old kid trying to tell them that he's innocent.
[ He's smiling faintly, enjoying the warm playfulness of it. Bruce doesn't get much of this, hasn't even with previous partners; not a lot of light in Gotham. But then Barry leans back, and Bruce listens, his expression turning grave and serious. (But he takes everything seriously.)
The tiniest sparkβ
You didn't have to do all this if you wanted help. I would have just helped. Is this why. You don't have to give me anything for it. Please don't.
That insecurity is for him to deal with, later. None of it shows on his face, or in the gentle way he strokes his thumb over the base of the younger man's neck, comforting. ]
Of course. [ Bruce has already looked at the case, inside out. It's abysmal. Only Barry's unshakable faith keeps him from believing his father did it, actually. Bruce has been around the block with enough improbable murders that he wouldn't say there's no chance it wasn't Henry Allen, and he hasn't ever sat down with the man in person to glean a gut instinct about it, but on paper, he's fucked. There's nothing any lawyer, any Innocent Project firm, can do.
He'd rather cut his own hands off then tell that to Barry. He won't. ]
[ The way Barry's face lifts with a gentle sort of hope here in the shower is something he hasn't felt for a long time concerning his father. The fact that Bruce would help β he believes him, doesn't he? He wouldn't just be doing this if he didn't, in some capacity, so it means a lot to him that he would. That someone would actually listen to him for once and not just write him off as some kid blinded by the fact that their father would never do such a thing.
It has Barry lick over his lips β has him bring his hands back up to cup at Bruce's neck and leans in to kiss him. Sweetly. Though with a faint heat of desire there for the other man still. ]
I need you.
[ He lets the words brush over Bruce's lips... and then his thoughts begin their rapid fire in switching in and out as they do. Because Barry isn't stupid β he's quite smart actually. So it dawns on him, even without Bruce having to say or insinuate anything that this might come off... a certain way and the thought has Barry scrunch his face up then. A tilt of his head, his brows knit together; he wants to make something awkwardly clear here. ]
Please don't think β this isn't because of that. I'm not β I don't do things like that. You're just my friend who I happen to really really like and if there's anyone who would believe me it would be you, I would hope and I just...
[ Pausing, he takes a breath and looks up to Bruce with a soft smile amidst the water falling down around them. ]
It would mean a lot to me. Like you do.
[ He likes to think Bruce wouldn't think him a whore or something, but with the way Barry's mind is capable of jumping from one topic to the next as quickly as it does, there's that (awkward) part of him that feels he needs to make that clear.
Letting his hands slip away from the other man's neck, he smooths them over the front of that chest instead, Barry peeking up at him from wet lashes before he huffs a soft and sheepish laugh. ]
I'm... very charming and romantic... in case you couldn't tell.
[ People don't act rationally around the word billionaire, sometimes. It isn't reflective of their normal character. Bruce wouldn't hold anything against Barry. He wouldn't think badly of him; he doesn't think badly of anyone who tries to get money out of him, even when it's done maliciously. The world isn't fair. No matter how many times he nearly bankrupts himself, he can regain it virtually overnight. He can bleed money into charities, and politicians just use his example as a reason not to change taxes or adjust social programs for the better. See? Trickle-down works.
What's he supposed to do? Stop?
I need you, Barry says, and something twists in his stomach. Just a little. He'd never think of Barry in such insulting terms (and not only because he doesn't think that word is an insult).
It would just, you know, hurt his feelings real bad. Pathetic as that truth is. He'd give Barry anything - would a week ago, would without any of this. A part of his brain is already calculating how many cases and how far back an investigation would have to go, to get to the root of potential mishandling. What histories do each of the police involved have? What did the DA's office look like at the time? What evidence remains, how has it been evaluated over the years? What immediate and long-term ripples have been caused?
It's Bruce's turn to shift his hands, holding Barry's face, looking at him intently. ]
Anything you need, or want, at any time, [ he tells him gravely. ] You don't have to give or do anything. You don't even have to be nice to me about it. Do you understand?
[ He likes that the younger man has clarified. But still. ]
[ There was a time where Bruce needed him β needed The Flash β and all that he could do. Barry had willingly followed him, given him what he wanted, run back in time to bring him back to life. He has nothing but respect and loyalty to this man who he thinks sometimes doesn't believe he deserves it, thinks that whatever demons he carries with him tell him such a thing and then some. Now it's Barry's turn to need him. But it's not entirely for the case of his father. It's something that runs a little deeper, something Victor warned him as being risky. For Barry, he lives on those risks, in a way. He's the shining hope that breaks through them, gives others another chance. Is one that, despite his own grievances and weights he carries on his shoulders, he runs towards the future now and he'd like Bruce to be there in whatever future he manages to shape for himself.
For a long moment, he's silent when Bruce says to him what he does and he can feel a sort of urgency laced within those words that maybe Bruce doesn't realize is there. Needing him to understand that, regardless of all of... this.
Lips part as if to speak but... he smiles instead. Soft. A nod given to show that he hears him, that he understands, he turns his face into one of those hands and kisses softly at a wet palm, letting it linger there for a few seconds. ]
I think you could use a bit of nice in your life.
[ The pad of his thumb traces over a scar Bruce wears, running along the entirety of it before he leans in to bump his nose against the other man's, hand coming up to grip at his neck again. ]
I ran back so I could see you again. [ His words are a quiet whisper so close to Bruce's lips there, just barely touching. ] There's very little I wouldn't do for you.
[ Looking to kiss him, he stops then, pulling back just enough to raise a brow to the man. ]
By the way β if I were looking to butter you up and get something out of you, pretty sure it would be the batmobile. Just saying.
[ You silly old man. ]
Edited (when u get disconnected before the rest of the tag goes through ) 2021-08-11 01:40 (UTC)
[ Barry leans in, and Bruce lets his hands move down, sliding around him to hold him there. Listening intently still. It's obvious that he wants him - not in a vulgar way (though that too lbr), but truly, genuinely, he wants him to be here and be himself, feel no compulsion or desperation. Barry deserves better from the world than to feel cornered. Bruce doesn't deserve much. Not even niceness, even the way Barry offers it up like that.
But he can like it. Sometimes.
He smiles the faintest bit, about the car. Remains quiet for a while. Someone's fingertips are going to be nearly pruned.
Finally he moves, leaning in enough to kiss him. Slow and sensual, hands splayed on his back, cradling him and pulling him flush against him. ]
I'm not convinced you know how to drive, [ Bruce murmurs against his mouth. ]
[ At first, there's a playful roll of his eyes since, c'mon dude. You know he's pretty ok with driving stick. But that roll of his eyes turns into a brow being raised as he lingers there close against Bruce and that mouth on his. Even with the splashing of water around them, he can hear just fine. ]
Pretty sure I know how to drive you crazy with my mouth on your cock.
[ Oh the grin he wears in saying that before soft laughter bubbles from those lips of his and he leans up to kiss at the other man's temple, fingers stroking down the side of his neck. This is nice. All of this is... nice. Some semblance of normal amidst their respective chaos they have within their lives.
Ducking his head, he noses at Bruce's neck, lips pressing a couple warm open-mouthed kisses there before he hums a little to himself and lets hands brush over the expanse of the other man's back. Just wanting to feel him. Keep him close like this. Solidify him and remind himself that he's real. That he's here. That he's not alone. On both their parts. ]
If you take me to bed, I'm gonna keep touching you, ok? Coming to find I like touching you.
[ Just kidding, he takes it all back, kicking Barry out for the nightβ
No. Bruce does lean away for a second, but he's clearly teasing, and returns to Barry's hold. No escaping.
Clearly he's alright with that notion. That they haven't gotten up to anything in here is probably down, simply, to that near heart attack Barry gave him. So: more making out, more soap, and fortunately there's enough room to get that done in here without bonking anyone's elbows into tile. A wide expanse of shower cubicle, and expensive enough stone to prevent slipping without the need for little rubber flowers on the floor. (Even the drain is neatly designed to not be such an obvious dent. Aesthetic.)
Bruce is fine. Probably. Barry skitters around from topic to topic, too quick for ordinary human thought processes, on top of what Bruce figures is probably a natural inclination towards being sort of awkward. And that's something he accepts without prejudice; some things he's just weird about.
He takes to kissing the other man in random spots across his neck, shoulders, and collarbones, wet and warm in the way he does while letting arms encircle the other man around his waist, firm and content in the way he keeps him nice and close. He loves the feel of the water relaxing his muscles and the lips and touches that brush over his own wet skin as they stay there a little longer in the show. If the point of all of this was to actually clean themselves it's... partly achieved? He certainly doesn't feel as flushed and sweaty as he had been back on Bruce's couch, so. There's that accomplishment.
As much as he loves the warmth of the water around him, he does have other plans than to become a California Raisin. Plans which involve wrapping himself up in the luxury of a big-big bed and sinking into sheets and skin and arms maybe. For once.
Pressing a wet kiss to the other man's peck, he looks up to them as he brushes a hand over his face, chasing away the water. ]
Think I'm good. Kinda got myself excited for your bed and sinking into it.
[ Because it's sure to be something bigger and nicer than anything he's ever had before. Hands brushing over Bruce's arms, he hums a little, a smile on his lips as he looks up to him again. ]
[ Bruce murmurs his agreement, following which is a series of things such as turning the water off, obtaining towels, offering robes, making sure to bring Barry's clothes with them, and so on. We'll skip the tedious description of bleak stairwells for the tedious description of the house on the surface:
Some hours ago by now, Barry asked about his bedroom, and Bruce said he missed it. Now it's easier to see how - the entirety of the lake house is one open space with a few dividers, barring a rectangle in the center that hides the small original bathroom and various utility hookups. When they'd arrived after the diner, they'd walked along the side of the house with the kitchen, facing the woods that lead to the manor. Simply turning the other way at the elevator doors lands them at the other side, facing the lake.
It's grey out, nearing the stage of turning gold. Very early morning, and the slowly churning water and shapes of distant trees are either eerie or beautiful, depending on your point of view. Bruce's bed is the main feature, backed up against the aforementioned rectangle, a 'wall' that serves as a headboard. Above his bed is a large photograph of what might be a flower, or a contorted person; hard to tell in the dark. It's quite sexual, either way, contrasting sharply with the modern restraint of everything else.
[ Sexual in the dark? Seems fitting for Bruce Wayne or, even The Batman in a certain way. Maybe that's just Barry. Regardless, he looks the room over with curious, bright eyes, standing there in his nice robe with his pile of clothes in his hands before he zips away from Bruce within the blink of an eye and is suddenly nosediving into the center of the large bed as if it were a ball pit.
Clothes are left behind on the floor, Barry still in his robe as he starfishes himself out there on the large, white bed, before he huffs a laugh to himself at how not bouncy or fluffy it is β which kinda almost sorta makes sense for Bruce β before he comes to turn on his side, fingers carding through his damp strands of hair that stick a little to his forehead and face.
He's not entirely sure what he'd expected in terms of Bruce's private quarters. The expansive windows are certainly something any voyeur would take pleasure in... if they could walk on water or had a high tech scope on their lens from the bushes out there. Creepy, but. You know. But the way it almost feels as if they're floating on water is serene if even in an eerie sort of way and yet, it blends beautifully beautiful with how Bruce himself can come off sometimes.
Gaze lingering on the photograph overhead, when the offer for pj's comes up, he looks over to Bruce then, cheek pressing against his shoulder. A shake of his head, he slowly wears a playful grin on his lips, shifting to lay there on his side a little better, hand pulling back the corner of the sheets beside him. ]
But I won't say no to you.
[ Sometimes, he can wear that confidence of his a little boldly and not end up stumbling over his own words or thoughts. ]
[ Barry's enthusiasm for everything he's interested in really is charming. Bruce finds himself put at ease by it, watching him gleefully wriggle over his bed. (Sorry it isn't squishier. Back injuries, rip.)
Charming and, in this case, also a turn-on.
Bruce sits at the edge of the bed and shrugs his robe off, unconcerned with the windows. No one's back here. It's isolated, he owns the land several square miles in either direction, and has constant monitoring of the grounds and airspace. A funny psychological trick; still alone, confined, despite the vast openness. He runs a hand up Barry's side to his chest, petting over him before leaning in and giving him a kiss.
Nothing to do now but prowl closer, pull sheets back, get tangled up. Mouth on his. ]
[ The moment Bruce shrugs his robe off, Barry's eyes are all over him, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to bite back the pleased little sound he makes. The very same one he lets slip from his lips a little louder then when that mouth is on his and they're kissing again. Just like they have been for most of the night, now bleeding into early morning from the looks and sounds of it.
His enthusiasm spills into the kiss he's tangled up in, hand grasping the back of the other man's neck and pulling him in closer as he drops back against the bed, the front of his robe falling open as he does. His lips are just as eager as his touches as he deepens their kiss with featherlight breaths, and he goes so far as to sharply nip at Bruce's bottom lip, dragging a leg up along his side as he grins with a pleased little hum against that mouth. ]
Are you looking to get me off three times in one night? Because you're getting dangerously close to that. Just saying.
[ Words he murmurs against the man's neck and chest as he presses warm open-mouthed kisses along his skin, letting fingertips brush over his arm and side. ]
[ Bruce gets over him, settles down, enjoying being able to stretch out and just kiss him, palming over his chest, pushing open that robe. ]
'Dangerously close'? [ He gets a kiss on Barry's cheekbone as he slips a hand over his shoulder, encouraging his arms out of the robe sleeves. Not letting him up to do away with it, hitching close to rock down against him, between his thighs. His physical self can be a little overwhelming, but Barry looked so pleased, and it went straight to Bruce's cock. He captures his mouth again before shifting to one side, stretching an arm out. ] Can't be missing that.
[ He fishes lube out of a bedside compartment, which is free of the depressing clutter that had plagued it for a few years. (Pill bottles, empty glasses, wine stains.) Silicone-based. You know. Friction. Speed. Just in case. He clicks it open and gets his hand wet, reaches between them to slick it cool and sticky just below Barry's navel, warming it up, teasing him, not-quite-there. ]
[ Somewhere in the chaotic spinning that is his thoughts, Barry realizes that he's about to go All The Way with Bruce and that has his heart stammering in his chest with anticipation. Not because he's shy or that he's unsure about this. He wants this. He wants Bruce and to feel him so much and has from the second they first kissed. It's that this is his first time with another man. Completely. And it's with Bruce Wayne.
His breath hitches at both the thought and the way it feels when Bruce rocks against him, eyes slipping shut and the faintest of his moans dropping from his lips before he licks them over. Before he swallows thickly.
Bruce has done this countless times, he thinks. Maybe not (always?) with men as much as women, but for Barry, he worries he might get swept up in Bruce to the point of it becoming... more. Because after all this, when the morning has fully come and no longer flirts with the night outside, he's still not sure what will happen, what any of this will mean, despite neither of them wanting to forget. Things to worry and mull about later, he tells that part of his mind, sighing in such a lovely little way as Bruce touches him in places he's only ever really touched himself. ]
Like this is ok?
[ He asks then, his voice soft. Curious. ]
I mean... you don't want me some other way? Different... position?
[ You know, if Bruce doesn't want something so vanilla. ]
[ Bruce curls his hand around Barry's cock and strokes him, just about familiar with the feel of him by now, and enjoying it. His own is thickening steadily, pressed against him. He kisses along the younger man's jaw and lower, lightly sucking at a pulse point high on his throat. ]
Mm. [ Different? Bruce gets that mark a little darker, lets his teeth graze it. ] I just want you, Barry.
[ Making that clear, first and foremost. He pauses his stroking just to hold him, squeezing gently, almost massaging his cock with his hand. Thinks about the mechanics of various things. They don't have to have penetrative sex. There's nothing less intimate about a lack of it; mutual orgasms are a hell of a thing no matter what.
Doesn't want him to be bored, though. ]
What do you prefer?
[ He hitches his hips up, just slightly, rocking against the younger man. ]
[ The careful but familiar way Bruce touches him is a treat to Barry's senses. Every little touch and brush and suck to his skin has him almost shivering beneath the other man and Barry finds that he - never mind his cock - can't seem to get enough of it.
But it's that slight rock of his hips Bruce rolls into him that really sets something within him off and the sound the younger man makes while gripping tight to an arm is needy and wanton in ways that it hasn't exactly been thus far tonight.
With a suddenly flushed face, he breathes, fingers running over the bicep he clutches tight to while he takes a moment to just enjoy that feeling, swallowing thickly, before he rocks himself up against the other man a little. Slow and teasing and curious. ]
I want you, too.
[ Words are shaky as they turn into a moan, Barry tilting his head back some as eyes fall shut and he enjoys having the weight of Bruce against him- of feeling his own cock hard and pressing at him, knowing it's because of him. ]
I want to come a third time because of you and I want you to come, too. Inside, in my mouth, on my face. Just want you to come again. Want it to be with you.
[ The sounds Barry makes are driving him just a little crazy. Bruce sinks his teeth into that place on his throat, steady pressure without sharpness, leaving a hickey. A bit teenager in the back of a theater of him, but Barry can probably regen it easy enough. Hopefully. (Or not?) He rocks more into him, then shifts his weight so that the slight change in posture allows him to rub his cock up against the younger man's, fingers loosening only just enough to press them together, hard against hard.
And what he says. Fuck. ]
Coming again won't be a problem, [ he husks against him. There is no real bat-growl in this universe, courtesy of his spooky synthesizer, but still there's something low and a bit darker-sounding about him when he gets cranked like this.
He moves his hand, leaving them pressed all together but moving lower, stroking beneath his balls, watching his reaction. ] Do you like getting yourself off like this?
[ Asking 'have you been fucked before' feels both rude and obvious, he skitters away from that. Bruce has no actual jitters about who's first time doing what; everyone's on their own schedule. ]
[ There's something about that low, husky growl Bruce has in this heated moment that has Barry turning into a mess of filthy little sounds and if this man had ever wanted him to submit to being his, he would do so in a heartbeat, without a second thought he's that turned on by him.
The way he brushes his cock against his own β how his fingers slip lower and lower until they're practically teasing him there between his legs with that question he has The Nerve to ask him right now when he's so wound up and skin flushed from the way he gets him going again, Barry loves it β needs it β so much that his stammering awkwardness is so swiftly replaced with a more confidant β a more filthy β side of him that seems to come so easy when he sinks into those touches and teasing and husky breaths Bruce gives to him so freely. When his head is full of nothing but wanting Bruce. All his dirty little thoughts just spill out of him. ]
I like thinking of you.
[ Breathing the words, hands reach back over his shoulders and he grips tight at the sheets as he squirms there beneath the man, swallow thickly, face flushed. ]
Of being bent over your desk and taken from behind... blowing you in an elevator and making sure I clan you up with my tongue... riding you in the front or backseat of your car and taking every last drop you give me... wearing a plug for you and only letting you fuck me because you're the only one I want filling me up.
[ Lips parting, he bumps his head against Bruce's and lets lips brush over his... but doesn't kiss him. Instead, he smiles, just barely kissing the top of his lip before he licks over his own, moaning there against his mouth. ]
You're the one I want filling me up.
[ No, sir. I haven't been fucked before but I have many ideas of how I would like to be. ]
Answers a few things. Also washes away any lingering reservations in a wave of arousal, and Bruce's hand stills as he takes it in. He kisses him, pushing in hard with it, scrape of teeth, tongue fucking into his mouth in a blatant mime of fucking him with something else. He keeps kissing him while he gets more lube on his fingers, and comes back to begin to press and tease at his hole. Shifting his weight enough so that there's room to do it without snapping his wrist. ]
A lot of mileage happening in your imagination, [ he says, mouth brushing against Barry's as he speaks, continuing to play with him with thick fingers. ] Wonder if you could really cover it.
[ Stamina, sure. Wearing a plug outside the bedroom is not beginner kink. But Barry probably doesn't expect to be pulled into handcuffs right now. (Or does he. There were those comments. Hours ago. A lifetime ago. I don't think we're at Dairy Queen anymore, Toto.) ]
You sound... really beautiful, Barry.
[ Unfortunately he only has sincere compliments. What a dork. Too many years (fuck, decades) putting on a fake act, everything left in between one mask or the other is strange and stilted and too-revealing in its awkward honesty. Pressing in, ghosting a kiss to the side of his mouth, as he rubs over his prostate. ]
As much as he loves the weight of Bruce against him and the tongue fucking he's been given with kisses pressed wherever Bruce so desires them to be pressed, it's the way those fingers stroke him from the inside that really get to him and the sound Barry makes for the other man is loud and unabashed and maybe even a little slutty. But it's fine, it doesn't matter. What does is the way those fingers make his body shake with pleasure, practically vibrating against both the bed and the other man as he knocks his head back and heels dig tight into the mattress.
For a moment, his mind blanks β a white landscape of nothing but trembling pleasure at the way Bruce plays with him with those fingers of his. It's only after a handful of seconds that he strings together the words Bruce has said to him and he moans, at first, in reply to them. ]
You're beautiful... [ He breathes the words through a shaky breath, turning his head to try and steal a kiss from the other man. ] ...I wanna come for you so many times.
[ Fingers of one hand come to card through Bruce's hair at the side, lips buzzing with hums against his cheek before he moans again, head falling back to the pillows. Eyes glassy, lips parted, hips rocking against that hand to feel more of those fingers. He grips at a shoulder with his other hand before he finally makes himself look to Bruce there from beneath him. ]
Do you wanna fuck me? Do you wanna see how good I am at taking you?
[ Barry's responsiveness just makes Bruce want to see more of it. He fucks him with his fingers, doing more just to pleasure him than prepare for anything, purely to watch and listen, soak up the way he shivers and moans. Barry rocks his hips up and Bruce curls his touch into it, gaze fixed on his face, memorizing exactly where, how much, how deep. ]
I do, and I will. [ A rough promise, looking at him. Bruce presses a light kiss to Barry's mouth and then shifts up a little onto his knees, a degree of extra leverage. He grabs the younger man's hip with his other hand and pulls at him, encouraging him to rock up onto his fingers more. There's an edge of an order in his low voice: ] I want you to come like this. On my fingers. Show me.
[ Pressing in more, rubbing fingertips in what he knows will be maddening. Barry's practically been vibrating against him and he's fascinated. It's so uniquely him, and surreal, and everything being beyond human experience makes sense, in his crazy fucking lifeβ
It's also extremely hot. His own cock is hard enough to be leaking, brushing against the inside of Barry's thigh. ]
[ There's something so incredibly hot about that rough edge of an order to Bruce's voice as he fucks him with those fingers and Barry finds himself almost saying yes, sir before his mind just goes and blanks on him. The most he gets out is a weak little yes, but even that dies on the sharp gasp leaving his lips.
Barry tips his head back as another shaky gasp leaves him, eyes squeezed shut while hips rock harder against that hand. That fucking amazing hand with those fucking amazing fingers that are touching and fucking him in ways no one else ever has and Barry swears it's the hottest thing he's ever felt β that Bruce is the hottest person ever. ]
Iβ wanna come. I wanna come so bad. Please.
[ Heels dig hard into the mattress around the other man and Barry keeps fucking himself on those fingers as asked β as told β sharp little breaths and gasps spilling from lips more quickly as sweat rolls down the back of his neck, along the curve of his tailbone. He's close β he's really fucking close and he can't believe he's going to come from Bruce's fingers alone.
Despite his slightly lean figure, the muscles across his arms pull tight as he grips at the sheets around him, eyes still shut with head tilted back, pained little whines spilling from him at how much he loves and hates this at the same time. Lost in how good he feels β lost in how much more good he wants to feel with coming like Bruce tells him to. When he does finally come, it's with a sharp hitch of breath and a sudden trembling of his body that almost makes the bed itself vibrate. But that hitch of breath bleeds into a pleased little whine and he comes harder than he had the previous two times, thick spurts of hot cum painting across his own stomach as he shudders, as he gasps, as he nearly breaks his neck with how far back he tilts it.
Suffice to say, third time's a charm in this little Stamina Experiment or Game of theirs.
The gasp that leaves his lips is a breathless one when he drops back against the mattress and he lays there. Spent. Staring up to the ceiling with glassy eyes and a sheen of sweat across his chest and forehead. It takes him a moment before he can even find the strength to move, legs like jelly and knocking against Bruce, before he lolls his head to the side and lazily blinks his eyes a few times. Swallowing thickly. ]
So good... [ He murmurs, wearing a lazy smile. ] I came for you so good, didn't I?
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So when Bruce goes and agrees about not wanting to forget, Barry finds himself feeling lighter in the moment, in a way, a fleeting glance given down to the hands that smooth over his chest before he's looking back up to Bruce. ]
Then don't. Even if you're here and I'm there... I can always show up in a nanosecond when you need me. Or, the old fashioned way of flying on over in your private jet.
[ Huffing a laugh, the smile he wears is gentle yet warm, letting the pads of his thumb brush over the sides of Bruce's neck that he still holds to under the cascading warmth of water around them. ]
With those... nice and comfy seats. Really comfy seats.
[ That smile slowly turns into a grin and he pulls at Bruce just enough to be able to kiss him then, pressing a pleased little hum against those lips he indulges in. Wet kisses with Bruce Wayne in the shower. Something to check off the ol' bucket list. ]
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[ They can still fuck this up. (Bruce probably will fuck this up. It's his speciality.) But he really doesn't want to.
What he does want: to make out with Barry in the shower, so. He does just that, while lazily running soap-sudsy hands over him, pulling him in close so they can both get the benefit of it. Bruce is, what, half a foot taller than him, and it makes it a little funny to dip forward to get a good angle, but it also lets him crowd the younger man against the dark tiles. Slow and courteous, letting him alter their course if he wants. Unhurried, indulgent. This place has an endless supply of hot water, and there are still untested fancy shampoo bottles. They can take a minute. ]
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When his back touches the dark tiles of the shower, he hums a little against the other man's lips, hands slipping away from his neck to smooth over arms and then that chest, head tilting up just enough to be able to drink up every single kiss the other man wants from him. In here, nothing else matters. Just this. Just Bruce. Just the feel of him pressed so close against him.
His thoughts circle back around to his being there in the other man's car, however, and he nips playfully at Bruce's bottom lip with a softened smile on his face. ]
Well, unlike some people, I don't do the whole breaking and entering thing. [ Just gonna gently call you out there, B-Man. However, Barry's gaze softens some then as he looks to Bruce. ] Actually β I wanted to ask you.
[ Licking over his lips, he leans his head back there against the dark tiles, looking to Bruce a little more seriously despite, you know, the whole being in the shower together and enjoying the whole making out thing. ]
You know a lot of people β powerful people, I guess and I was just wondering if maybe... you knew some people who could help with my dad. [ Again, he licks over his lips and he shakes his head. ] I'll pay you back w-whatever it costs with lawyers or whatever. I mean β once I start getting a steady income with my job at the police force, I s-should be able to make a... pretty decent living. Even if it's just a foot in the door kinda job right now.
[ Huffing a laugh, he scrunches his face up as he stares to Bruce's chest before he flicks his gaze back up to the man. ]
Just... if you can help... I'd really appreciate it. Maybe people will listen to powerful lawyers instead of some nine year old kid trying to tell them that he's innocent.
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The tiniest sparkβ
You didn't have to do all this if you wanted help. I would have just helped. Is this why. You don't have to give me anything for it. Please don't.
That insecurity is for him to deal with, later. None of it shows on his face, or in the gentle way he strokes his thumb over the base of the younger man's neck, comforting. ]
Of course. [ Bruce has already looked at the case, inside out. It's abysmal. Only Barry's unshakable faith keeps him from believing his father did it, actually. Bruce has been around the block with enough improbable murders that he wouldn't say there's no chance it wasn't Henry Allen, and he hasn't ever sat down with the man in person to glean a gut instinct about it, but on paper, he's fucked. There's nothing any lawyer, any Innocent Project firm, can do.
He'd rather cut his own hands off then tell that to Barry. He won't. ]
Anything you need. I'll make sure it gets there.
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It has Barry lick over his lips β has him bring his hands back up to cup at Bruce's neck and leans in to kiss him. Sweetly. Though with a faint heat of desire there for the other man still. ]
I need you.
[ He lets the words brush over Bruce's lips... and then his thoughts begin their rapid fire in switching in and out as they do. Because Barry isn't stupid β he's quite smart actually. So it dawns on him, even without Bruce having to say or insinuate anything that this might come off... a certain way and the thought has Barry scrunch his face up then. A tilt of his head, his brows knit together; he wants to make something awkwardly clear here. ]
Please don't think β this isn't because of that. I'm not β I don't do things like that. You're just my friend who I happen to really really like and if there's anyone who would believe me it would be you, I would hope and I just...
[ Pausing, he takes a breath and looks up to Bruce with a soft smile amidst the water falling down around them. ]
It would mean a lot to me. Like you do.
[ He likes to think Bruce wouldn't think him a whore or something, but with the way Barry's mind is capable of jumping from one topic to the next as quickly as it does, there's that (awkward) part of him that feels he needs to make that clear.
Letting his hands slip away from the other man's neck, he smooths them over the front of that chest instead, Barry peeking up at him from wet lashes before he huffs a soft and sheepish laugh. ]
I'm... very charming and romantic... in case you couldn't tell.
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What's he supposed to do? Stop?
I need you, Barry says, and something twists in his stomach. Just a little. He'd never think of Barry in such insulting terms (and not only because he doesn't think that word is an insult).
It would just, you know, hurt his feelings real bad. Pathetic as that truth is. He'd give Barry anything - would a week ago, would without any of this. A part of his brain is already calculating how many cases and how far back an investigation would have to go, to get to the root of potential mishandling. What histories do each of the police involved have? What did the DA's office look like at the time? What evidence remains, how has it been evaluated over the years? What immediate and long-term ripples have been caused?
It's Bruce's turn to shift his hands, holding Barry's face, looking at him intently. ]
Anything you need, or want, at any time, [ he tells him gravely. ] You don't have to give or do anything. You don't even have to be nice to me about it. Do you understand?
[ He likes that the younger man has clarified. But still. ]
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For a long moment, he's silent when Bruce says to him what he does and he can feel a sort of urgency laced within those words that maybe Bruce doesn't realize is there. Needing him to understand that, regardless of all of... this.
Lips part as if to speak but... he smiles instead. Soft. A nod given to show that he hears him, that he understands, he turns his face into one of those hands and kisses softly at a wet palm, letting it linger there for a few seconds. ]
I think you could use a bit of nice in your life.
[ The pad of his thumb traces over a scar Bruce wears, running along the entirety of it before he leans in to bump his nose against the other man's, hand coming up to grip at his neck again. ]
I ran back so I could see you again. [ His words are a quiet whisper so close to Bruce's lips there, just barely touching. ] There's very little I wouldn't do for you.
[ Looking to kiss him, he stops then, pulling back just enough to raise a brow to the man. ]
By the way β if I were looking to butter you up and get something out of you, pretty sure it would be the batmobile. Just saying.
[ You silly old man. ]
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But he can like it. Sometimes.
He smiles the faintest bit, about the car. Remains quiet for a while. Someone's fingertips are going to be nearly pruned.
Finally he moves, leaning in enough to kiss him. Slow and sensual, hands splayed on his back, cradling him and pulling him flush against him. ]
I'm not convinced you know how to drive, [ Bruce murmurs against his mouth. ]
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Pretty sure I know how to drive you crazy with my mouth on your cock.
[ Oh the grin he wears in saying that before soft laughter bubbles from those lips of his and he leans up to kiss at the other man's temple, fingers stroking down the side of his neck. This is nice. All of this is... nice. Some semblance of normal amidst their respective chaos they have within their lives.
Ducking his head, he noses at Bruce's neck, lips pressing a couple warm open-mouthed kisses there before he hums a little to himself and lets hands brush over the expanse of the other man's back. Just wanting to feel him. Keep him close like this. Solidify him and remind himself that he's real. That he's here. That he's not alone. On both their parts. ]
If you take me to bed, I'm gonna keep touching you, ok? Coming to find I like touching you.
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[ Just kidding, he takes it all back, kicking Barry out for the nightβ
No. Bruce does lean away for a second, but he's clearly teasing, and returns to Barry's hold. No escaping.
Clearly he's alright with that notion. That they haven't gotten up to anything in here is probably down, simply, to that near heart attack Barry gave him. So: more making out, more soap, and fortunately there's enough room to get that done in here without bonking anyone's elbows into tile. A wide expanse of shower cubicle, and expensive enough stone to prevent slipping without the need for little rubber flowers on the floor. (Even the drain is neatly designed to not be such an obvious dent. Aesthetic.)
Bruce is fine. Probably. Barry skitters around from topic to topic, too quick for ordinary human thought processes, on top of what Bruce figures is probably a natural inclination towards being sort of awkward. And that's something he accepts without prejudice; some things he's just weird about.
Maybe that's also fine. ]
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He takes to kissing the other man in random spots across his neck, shoulders, and collarbones, wet and warm in the way he does while letting arms encircle the other man around his waist, firm and content in the way he keeps him nice and close. He loves the feel of the water relaxing his muscles and the lips and touches that brush over his own wet skin as they stay there a little longer in the show. If the point of all of this was to actually clean themselves it's... partly achieved? He certainly doesn't feel as flushed and sweaty as he had been back on Bruce's couch, so. There's that accomplishment.
As much as he loves the warmth of the water around him, he does have other plans than to become a California Raisin. Plans which involve wrapping himself up in the luxury of a big-big bed and sinking into sheets and skin and arms maybe. For once.
Pressing a wet kiss to the other man's peck, he looks up to them as he brushes a hand over his face, chasing away the water. ]
Think I'm good. Kinda got myself excited for your bed and sinking into it.
[ Because it's sure to be something bigger and nicer than anything he's ever had before. Hands brushing over Bruce's arms, he hums a little, a smile on his lips as he looks up to him again. ]
Wanna head out?
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Some hours ago by now, Barry asked about his bedroom, and Bruce said he missed it. Now it's easier to see how - the entirety of the lake house is one open space with a few dividers, barring a rectangle in the center that hides the small original bathroom and various utility hookups. When they'd arrived after the diner, they'd walked along the side of the house with the kitchen, facing the woods that lead to the manor. Simply turning the other way at the elevator doors lands them at the other side, facing the lake.
It's grey out, nearing the stage of turning gold. Very early morning, and the slowly churning water and shapes of distant trees are either eerie or beautiful, depending on your point of view. Bruce's bed is the main feature, backed up against the aforementioned rectangle, a 'wall' that serves as a headboard. Above his bed is a large photograph of what might be a flower, or a contorted person; hard to tell in the dark. It's quite sexual, either way, contrasting sharply with the modern restraint of everything else.
White sheets. Very soft but firm mattress.
Almost coyly, ]
Do you want pajamas?
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Clothes are left behind on the floor, Barry still in his robe as he starfishes himself out there on the large, white bed, before he huffs a laugh to himself at how not bouncy or fluffy it is β which kinda almost sorta makes sense for Bruce β before he comes to turn on his side, fingers carding through his damp strands of hair that stick a little to his forehead and face.
He's not entirely sure what he'd expected in terms of Bruce's private quarters. The expansive windows are certainly something any voyeur would take pleasure in... if they could walk on water or had a high tech scope on their lens from the bushes out there. Creepy, but. You know. But the way it almost feels as if they're floating on water is serene if even in an eerie sort of way and yet, it blends beautifully beautiful with how Bruce himself can come off sometimes.
Gaze lingering on the photograph overhead, when the offer for pj's comes up, he looks over to Bruce then, cheek pressing against his shoulder. A shake of his head, he slowly wears a playful grin on his lips, shifting to lay there on his side a little better, hand pulling back the corner of the sheets beside him. ]
But I won't say no to you.
[ Sometimes, he can wear that confidence of his a little boldly and not end up stumbling over his own words or thoughts. ]
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Charming and, in this case, also a turn-on.
Bruce sits at the edge of the bed and shrugs his robe off, unconcerned with the windows. No one's back here. It's isolated, he owns the land several square miles in either direction, and has constant monitoring of the grounds and airspace. A funny psychological trick; still alone, confined, despite the vast openness. He runs a hand up Barry's side to his chest, petting over him before leaning in and giving him a kiss.
Nothing to do now but prowl closer, pull sheets back, get tangled up. Mouth on his. ]
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His enthusiasm spills into the kiss he's tangled up in, hand grasping the back of the other man's neck and pulling him in closer as he drops back against the bed, the front of his robe falling open as he does. His lips are just as eager as his touches as he deepens their kiss with featherlight breaths, and he goes so far as to sharply nip at Bruce's bottom lip, dragging a leg up along his side as he grins with a pleased little hum against that mouth. ]
Are you looking to get me off three times in one night? Because you're getting dangerously close to that. Just saying.
[ Words he murmurs against the man's neck and chest as he presses warm open-mouthed kisses along his skin, letting fingertips brush over his arm and side. ]
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'Dangerously close'? [ He gets a kiss on Barry's cheekbone as he slips a hand over his shoulder, encouraging his arms out of the robe sleeves. Not letting him up to do away with it, hitching close to rock down against him, between his thighs. His physical self can be a little overwhelming, but Barry looked so pleased, and it went straight to Bruce's cock. He captures his mouth again before shifting to one side, stretching an arm out. ] Can't be missing that.
[ He fishes lube out of a bedside compartment, which is free of the depressing clutter that had plagued it for a few years. (Pill bottles, empty glasses, wine stains.) Silicone-based. You know. Friction. Speed. Just in case. He clicks it open and gets his hand wet, reaches between them to slick it cool and sticky just below Barry's navel, warming it up, teasing him, not-quite-there. ]
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His breath hitches at both the thought and the way it feels when Bruce rocks against him, eyes slipping shut and the faintest of his moans dropping from his lips before he licks them over. Before he swallows thickly.
Bruce has done this countless times, he thinks. Maybe not (always?) with men as much as women, but for Barry, he worries he might get swept up in Bruce to the point of it becoming... more. Because after all this, when the morning has fully come and no longer flirts with the night outside, he's still not sure what will happen, what any of this will mean, despite neither of them wanting to forget. Things to worry and mull about later, he tells that part of his mind, sighing in such a lovely little way as Bruce touches him in places he's only ever really touched himself. ]
Like this is ok?
[ He asks then, his voice soft. Curious. ]
I mean... you don't want me some other way? Different... position?
[ You know, if Bruce doesn't want something so vanilla. ]
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Mm. [ Different? Bruce gets that mark a little darker, lets his teeth graze it. ] I just want you, Barry.
[ Making that clear, first and foremost. He pauses his stroking just to hold him, squeezing gently, almost massaging his cock with his hand. Thinks about the mechanics of various things. They don't have to have penetrative sex. There's nothing less intimate about a lack of it; mutual orgasms are a hell of a thing no matter what.
Doesn't want him to be bored, though. ]
What do you prefer?
[ He hitches his hips up, just slightly, rocking against the younger man. ]
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But it's that slight rock of his hips Bruce rolls into him that really sets something within him off and the sound the younger man makes while gripping tight to an arm is needy and wanton in ways that it hasn't exactly been thus far tonight.
With a suddenly flushed face, he breathes, fingers running over the bicep he clutches tight to while he takes a moment to just enjoy that feeling, swallowing thickly, before he rocks himself up against the other man a little. Slow and teasing and curious. ]
I want you, too.
[ Words are shaky as they turn into a moan, Barry tilting his head back some as eyes fall shut and he enjoys having the weight of Bruce against him- of feeling his own cock hard and pressing at him, knowing it's because of him. ]
I want to come a third time because of you and I want you to come, too. Inside, in my mouth, on my face. Just want you to come again. Want it to be with you.
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And what he says. Fuck. ]
Coming again won't be a problem, [ he husks against him. There is no real bat-growl in this universe, courtesy of his spooky synthesizer, but still there's something low and a bit darker-sounding about him when he gets cranked like this.
He moves his hand, leaving them pressed all together but moving lower, stroking beneath his balls, watching his reaction. ] Do you like getting yourself off like this?
[ Asking 'have you been fucked before' feels both rude and obvious, he skitters away from that. Bruce has no actual jitters about who's first time doing what; everyone's on their own schedule. ]
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The way he brushes his cock against his own β how his fingers slip lower and lower until they're practically teasing him there between his legs with that question he has The Nerve to ask him right now when he's so wound up and skin flushed from the way he gets him going again, Barry loves it β needs it β so much that his stammering awkwardness is so swiftly replaced with a more confidant β a more filthy β side of him that seems to come so easy when he sinks into those touches and teasing and husky breaths Bruce gives to him so freely. When his head is full of nothing but wanting Bruce. All his dirty little thoughts just spill out of him. ]
I like thinking of you.
[ Breathing the words, hands reach back over his shoulders and he grips tight at the sheets as he squirms there beneath the man, swallow thickly, face flushed. ]
Of being bent over your desk and taken from behind... blowing you in an elevator and making sure I clan you up with my tongue... riding you in the front or backseat of your car and taking every last drop you give me... wearing a plug for you and only letting you fuck me because you're the only one I want filling me up.
[ Lips parting, he bumps his head against Bruce's and lets lips brush over his... but doesn't kiss him. Instead, he smiles, just barely kissing the top of his lip before he licks over his own, moaning there against his mouth. ]
You're the one I want filling me up.
[ No, sir. I haven't been fucked before but I have many ideas of how I would like to be. ]
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Answers a few things. Also washes away any lingering reservations in a wave of arousal, and Bruce's hand stills as he takes it in. He kisses him, pushing in hard with it, scrape of teeth, tongue fucking into his mouth in a blatant mime of fucking him with something else. He keeps kissing him while he gets more lube on his fingers, and comes back to begin to press and tease at his hole. Shifting his weight enough so that there's room to do it without snapping his wrist. ]
A lot of mileage happening in your imagination, [ he says, mouth brushing against Barry's as he speaks, continuing to play with him with thick fingers. ] Wonder if you could really cover it.
[ Stamina, sure. Wearing a plug outside the bedroom is not beginner kink. But Barry probably doesn't expect to be pulled into handcuffs right now. (Or does he. There were those comments. Hours ago. A lifetime ago. I don't think we're at Dairy Queen anymore, Toto.) ]
You sound... really beautiful, Barry.
[ Unfortunately he only has sincere compliments. What a dork. Too many years (fuck, decades) putting on a fake act, everything left in between one mask or the other is strange and stilted and too-revealing in its awkward honesty. Pressing in, ghosting a kiss to the side of his mouth, as he rubs over his prostate. ]
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As much as he loves the weight of Bruce against him and the tongue fucking he's been given with kisses pressed wherever Bruce so desires them to be pressed, it's the way those fingers stroke him from the inside that really get to him and the sound Barry makes for the other man is loud and unabashed and maybe even a little slutty. But it's fine, it doesn't matter. What does is the way those fingers make his body shake with pleasure, practically vibrating against both the bed and the other man as he knocks his head back and heels dig tight into the mattress.
For a moment, his mind blanks β a white landscape of nothing but trembling pleasure at the way Bruce plays with him with those fingers of his. It's only after a handful of seconds that he strings together the words Bruce has said to him and he moans, at first, in reply to them. ]
You're beautiful... [ He breathes the words through a shaky breath, turning his head to try and steal a kiss from the other man. ] ...I wanna come for you so many times.
[ Fingers of one hand come to card through Bruce's hair at the side, lips buzzing with hums against his cheek before he moans again, head falling back to the pillows. Eyes glassy, lips parted, hips rocking against that hand to feel more of those fingers. He grips at a shoulder with his other hand before he finally makes himself look to Bruce there from beneath him. ]
Do you wanna fuck me? Do you wanna see how good I am at taking you?
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I do, and I will. [ A rough promise, looking at him. Bruce presses a light kiss to Barry's mouth and then shifts up a little onto his knees, a degree of extra leverage. He grabs the younger man's hip with his other hand and pulls at him, encouraging him to rock up onto his fingers more. There's an edge of an order in his low voice: ] I want you to come like this. On my fingers. Show me.
[ Pressing in more, rubbing fingertips in what he knows will be maddening. Barry's practically been vibrating against him and he's fascinated. It's so uniquely him, and surreal, and everything being beyond human experience makes sense, in his crazy fucking lifeβ
It's also extremely hot. His own cock is hard enough to be leaking, brushing against the inside of Barry's thigh. ]
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Barry tips his head back as another shaky gasp leaves him, eyes squeezed shut while hips rock harder against that hand. That fucking amazing hand with those fucking amazing fingers that are touching and fucking him in ways no one else ever has and Barry swears it's the hottest thing he's ever felt β that Bruce is the hottest person ever. ]
Iβ wanna come. I wanna come so bad. Please.
[ Heels dig hard into the mattress around the other man and Barry keeps fucking himself on those fingers as asked β as told β sharp little breaths and gasps spilling from lips more quickly as sweat rolls down the back of his neck, along the curve of his tailbone. He's close β he's really fucking close and he can't believe he's going to come from Bruce's fingers alone.
Despite his slightly lean figure, the muscles across his arms pull tight as he grips at the sheets around him, eyes still shut with head tilted back, pained little whines spilling from him at how much he loves and hates this at the same time. Lost in how good he feels β lost in how much more good he wants to feel with coming like Bruce tells him to. When he does finally come, it's with a sharp hitch of breath and a sudden trembling of his body that almost makes the bed itself vibrate. But that hitch of breath bleeds into a pleased little whine and he comes harder than he had the previous two times, thick spurts of hot cum painting across his own stomach as he shudders, as he gasps, as he nearly breaks his neck with how far back he tilts it.
Suffice to say, third time's a charm in this little Stamina Experiment or Game of theirs.
The gasp that leaves his lips is a breathless one when he drops back against the mattress and he lays there. Spent. Staring up to the ceiling with glassy eyes and a sheen of sweat across his chest and forehead. It takes him a moment before he can even find the strength to move, legs like jelly and knocking against Bruce, before he lolls his head to the side and lazily blinks his eyes a few times. Swallowing thickly. ]
So good... [ He murmurs, wearing a lazy smile. ] I came for you so good, didn't I?
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