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“Highs are in the 90s all week,” the woman’s voice blares on, “and temperatures are expected to rise even higher this weekend, so stay smart and keep cool." Artificial laughter; harsh static through the screen, their loud voices rattling through the television.
But Wally’s not listening; right now he couldn’t give a damn about the television. Or the announcer, with her white dress shirt and her shiny hair. Her kind voice and her expressive eyes. Or the man beside her, with his subtle grin and the humorous shake of his head as he makes a joke about the heat.
A moan trembles up his throat, as he groans and chews into the pillow shoved up in front of his face. He’s breathing deeply, his entire body aches, he’s so damn hot right now, so hot, he’s sweating all over- He feels the sweat collecting on his skin, feels the warmth, the almost intoxicating warmth spreading through his body-
When the sound of the television goes silent for a moment, just before the commercials flicker into being, he can hear the rhythmic slap of Barry’s thighs slamming against his ass, rapid movement to match each thrust inside him. And Barry’s breathing, heavy as his own, heavy and almost tense, as he exhales half-gasps and incoherent sounds that never gain full volume.
The sound comes back, and all he can do is feel; feel each thrust, the friction as it travels through him, the quick and steady shake of Barry’s body as he vibrates himself against him, his cock vibrating as it pushes further in. A spark of pleasure and beautiful agony when it hits his prostate. Each of his moans is a shiver; Wally can’t help but shiver and gasp because he’s too overwhelmed to manage anything more coherent. Face pressed against the pillow, hands digging into the couch, he feels his body being pushed against the leather beneath him. It only generates more heat. That heat, that heat that makes him moan, especially when Barry leans down, and he can feel him panting against his sweat-coated back, his deep breaths, deep breaths as he vibrates and pushes deeper, deeper, deeper-
Wally’s writhing, grinding his teeth as a small whimper escapes.
“Winfresh! The new standard of clean,” the television is blaring out. A small chuckle from Barry, which catches Wally off-guard. But before he can question it, there’s a warm and rough contact against his back; Wally’s tenses, but he knows what it is. He knows what it is, as soon as it travels.
Barry’s tongue, as he trails it between his shoulder blades. Wally shivers; he shakes and lets out a gasp when Barry speeds up the thrusting again, groaning to himself, a deep rumble as he starts to pump into Wally like the world’s going to end. Like the world’s going to end, if he doesn’t come in the next few-
Few minutes, minutes that feel like hours with the abuse he’s taking, the vibrating, the hard and fast thrusts that leave him breathless. He’s panting so heavily that every gasp is nearly a moan, it’s a miracle there’s not more sound; it’s a miracle he’s not a whining mess. His face contorted in pleasure, Barry’s murmuring a, “So beautiful, baby,” against his back as he starts that sensual panting again, because he’s so close, so close-
Barry slides an arm beneath him, the brush of sweat-slicked skin against his waist, and firm, eager fingers finding their way to his aching, a touch too sensitive cock. Wally gasps, a gasp that becomes another tremble. Barry chooses that moment to start to vibrate at an even higher frequency, so high it almost hurts him to receive it. Wally’s gasping, gasping, as Barry’s fingers dance over his cock, dancing and pumping him, the pleasure ricocheting between his cock and his ass, the pleasure-
Wally happens to let his eyes wander away, just for a moment; something catches attention, and it’s with a glance towards the far corner of the room that his heart stops.
“B-barry,” he tries. His voice shakes.
But Barry doesn’t catch it; instead he only continues his pursuit to make Wally come as fast as possible.
“Barry,” Wally tries to suggest, but instead it escapes as a moan. A spark of pleasure that’s so sharp, so intense he closes his eyes for an instant.
And when he opens them, the intruder is gone. The presence in the doorway. Those wide eyes that’d stared at them in wonder, alarmed and startled.
Fuck. Can’t stop now. Too late to stop now. He would just need to have a very awkward, and informational discussion later. A talk about the things adults do, and how he should never partake in any of them, until he’s an adult too, and how he needs to be careful and smart about it, and-
He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. Maybe this afternoon. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning.
But for now, Barry is lodged too far inside his ass for this to stop.
Another wave of pleasure; his voice a guttural, rough murmur, “A little harder, Barry.”
Barry sets himself into motion, and pushes in as he vibrates against his prostate. A harsh whisper against the hot flesh of his back, his breath an exhausted pant, “Gladly.”
-
“So,” Tim’s crossing his arms, as he stands before him. “Did you ask them?”
“Um,” Bart stares back, with doubtful eyes. “I uh… I tried.”
“What happened this time,” Tim’s giving a half-sigh.
“I really was going to,” Bart whines.
“And?”
“I…” He pauses. His face flushes a strange color, and he makes a funny face at them.
Tim tilts his head, reacting slowly to the kid’s increasingly changing expression.
When he speaks again, his voice is tiny and almost anxious, “I think they were doing it.”
Tim’s eyes grow wide.
Even Conner, who’d been some distance away, eagerly moves closer, intruding into the conversation with eager eyes, a grin materializing on his face.
Bart’s asking nervously, “Tim, can two guys do it?”
Tim’s jaw drops. “I-I…” his eyes frantically search the room, as if trying to find a way out of responding to that.
Conner leans forward, like he’s going to attempt giving an answer for him.
But the moment Bart looks at him, looks at him with those wide eyes and says, “I mean, you guys would… know… right?”
Conner laughs.