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It’s hot. Steaming, melting ice caps hot. A heatwave like no other had hit Central City and there seemed to be no reprieve in sight.
Their A/C was on the fritz, so Barry had commandeered an industrial fan from...he wasn’t very forthcoming on the details. The droning from the gigantic fan is surprisingly soothing to her ever-increasing nerves. She’s not used to having this much time on her hands. It made her antsy and the circulation of air from the fan is doing little to actually abate the intense heat.
Central City is at a standstill ( Team Flash hadn’t been needed in the past twenty-three hours, and counting), something that was downright unheard of, and Iris wanted to take full advantage of every single precious second.
She’s currently finishing that novel she hasn’t gotten around to reading. She’s got ten chapters left.
Barry’s off doing—she’s not sure. He’d mumbled something about being hungry for the tenth time all day.
He comes whooshing in, fries hanging halfway out his mouth, and a Big Belly Burger bag in his grasp.
“Hey, babe I got lunch.”
“Thanks,” she says offhandedly, turning a page in the book.
He scarfs down his three burgers and two fries. Quickly he strips down to just his boxers. They’ve resorted to wearing as little as possible. Iris’s clad in only a bra and panties.
“What ya reading?” Barry inches closer, slipping beside Iris on the couch, squinting to read the title. “ Close Quarters with The Bodyguard. Sounds juicy.”
She giggles, “It is.”
“I bet,” Barry says, changing his position on the sofa, spreading out behind Iris, wrapping an arm around her waist. He releases a satisfied sigh and begins to read, “ And Jocelyn’s breath rasped out along with the sound of the zipper lowering. He was so damn sexy . You reading porn?”
Iris molds her body closer to Barry, his warmth radiating—which oddly shouldn’t make her feel cooler, but it does. She hums, appreciative of the sudden break in the monotony of risking their lives saving the city, rinse, and repeat. Apparently, a really, really hot day is all it takes for criminals and catastrophes to take a break.
Barry’s naked feet glide along her calf. He’s aimlessly tracing an indecipherable pattern with his fingertips on her bare stomach. His touch searing into her skin igniting something in her; a fire of a different kind, suddenly she’s sweating for an entirely different reason.
“It’s not porn.”
“Erotica then, it seems pretty licentious to me.”
“The only thing licentious is your mind.”
“You love it.”
He brushes a finger over her bra-covered nipple, she knows it isn’t an accident, he’s teasing.
“Mmm, I do.”
“What paragraph are you on?”
Iris runs her finger along the lines to where she left off on the page. Barry reads, “ Just looking at him brought her pleasure, had heat coursing through her body. Had certain spots tingling and throbbing with desire. He kicked off his jeans but left on his knit boxers. His erection strained against them, though, begging to be released. ”
Barry chuckles, “Looks like I’m in a similar predicament.”
She feels him shift behind her, his knuckles grazing her back, and oh she feels him. He’s growing hard, bumping against her lower back every time he exhales, until he’s firm enough that his length is an insistent poke despite their slight distance on the sofa.
He reaches over, brushes his fingers over the strap of her bra. A light feathery touch to the edge of one of the purple straps. His nails scrape her collarbone, as his fingers descend. He doesn’t push it down around her shoulders like she thinks he’s going to. Instead, he tip-toes his finger gradually along the top of the garment in front and traces the intricate lacy pattern. He outlines the shapes all the way to the bottom, under her breasts. She sees a tiny reflection of his face through the picture on the stand across from the couch. There’s a deep crease to his brow, his forehead wrinkling with concentration. That methodical look in his eyes is almost enough to get her off. He’s barely touched her skin and yet she’s so wet and so turned on that she can hardly breathe. When he palms a breast, she nearly passes out. He cups them softly, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her neck as he does. She releases a shaky breath that she’s not aware she was holding.
Suddenly her brassiere feels offensive, constrictive, and she just needs him to touch her skin. She unclasps the bra from the front, and hurriedly loops her arms through the straps. Letting the garment drift to the floor as she sets the book down for a moment. She rids herself of her underwear too, trying to make a show of it as she does. When she feels the sharp exhale of Barry’s chest, Iris decides to take matters into her own hands.
She runs her fingers over her own nipples, groaning. She can feel him grinning against her back.
“Barry?”
“Hmm?”
He doesn’t go to touch her right away like she wants. He’s deliberately avoiding her breasts, grasping her shoulder, and placing a kiss there. His fingertips dance on her stomach, tracing the faint definition there, her breath hitches when they graze just under her breasts.
“Bear, please just—”
Barry reaches over and hands her the book. “Keep reading. I want you to finish your book. Don’t mind me. Read it out loud.”
She hears her voice speaking and feels the vibration from her throat, but the raspy edge doesn’t sound familiar at all, “H-her breath caught each time his fingertips brushed across the skin he exposed. Her heart pounded fast and furiously. She wanted his hands on her, wanted him touching her. A moan of frustration slipped through her lips . Barry—”
He kisses her back, he can’t keep his tone even anymore, he sounds like he’s out of breath, “keep going, don’t stop. You stop, I stop.”
Her hips start to rock back, pressing against his erection. He groans, meeting her rocking and bucking into her. Barry circles her areola with the tips of his fingers and moves them to tweak her nipples. Finally, he curves his hands around her breasts and palms them softly, kneading.
She gasps, almost drops the book, but he catches it and hands it back to her.
His fingers slide along her thigh, and she curls her leg around his’, opening up more for him. His gruff voice croaks out, “Read.”
“And he chuckled. Her blouse parted. She arched up and jerked it off her shoulders, uncaring of the scrape on her skin. That pain was nothing compared to the tension winding so tightly inside her. She felt as if she might snap. Before he could torture her anymore, she unclasped her skirt and lowered the zipper. Then she wriggled out of it until she lay on the bed clad only in her blue silk underwear. A groan emanated from him now, and it sounded as if he was being tortured.”
Barry chuckles, “I feel his pain.”
But it’s self-inflicted, Iris thinks. If he would just—
“Barry can you just—"
“Can I just what?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t. Tell me what you want?”
“Barry.”
“Tell me what you want, Iris?”
“I want you to fuck m—"
He slides in so slowly that it passes the point of teasing and on to being infuriating. But it gives her time to focus on the delicious feeling of him stretching her and filling her to the hilt. The dual lengthy curling moan that escapes from both their mouths is so perfectly in sequence, a fine-tuned harmony like the tail end of a performance from LA Phil.
“ Jesus , Iris. You’re always so wet for me. Taking all of me so easy.”
The book nearly tumbles to the floor as she grips the couch for purchase. She bunches the book up in her fist, wrinkling the cover of the novel with her closed fingers around it. He licks at the side of her neck, his thrusts pointedly slow.
“Yes, Yes . Barry, Barry fas—"
His hands move from palming her breasts to her hips, gripping tightly. He gives her one sharp deep thrust and the scream that pulls from her throat threatens to tear a hole through her. He begins to piston in and out of her.
“ God Barry. That’s it, baby, that’s it. Right there.”
“So, you like it like that?”
She hisses, “ Yes .”
Iris is fisting the couch for dear life now. She’s reaching the precipice, but Barry slows, his thrusts muted and his grip loosens.
“Bear—,” she breathes out in agitation.
“ Baby , it’s going to feel so goood when I finally let you come.”
The nerve of Barry Allen. He could be such an enigma sometimes. He can say such dirty things to her and then make such sweet heartfelt emotional admissions.
She barely hears his command, his tone a low gravely timbre, “Read.”
She looks over to his reflection in the picture and sees a faint smirk on his lips. She leans her head back and it falls in the dip of his shoulder. His skin slick against hers. Her hips rock back getting her closer to the apex. His strokes are still muted but his breathing is labor and she can feel his pulse racing.
Iris scrambles through the book to find where she left off and begins to read, “ He stared down at her, his face flushed and his nostrils flaring. ‘You are beautiful..’ When he said it, the praise affected her because she suspected he wasn’t one to throw around empty compliments. From the look on his face, he was obviously sincere. Her skin heated even more just from his look. Then he touched...running his fingertips along her every curve, from her neck to the arch of her foot. Despite the heat, she shivered as sensations raced through her. ”
“Good girl, don’t stop. Don’t stop, baby. ”
“Mmm, Barry,” his name slips from her lips in a breathless plea. How did he expect her to concentrate under these circumstances?
“Keep, going baby. You’ve been so good. Don’t you wanna come?”
She nods, unable to find words.
“Then keep reading.”
She continues, a keen desperate edge to her tone as she whispers, “ he unclasped the front closure of her bra and pushed it away from her breasts. And he touched them...cupping them in his hands as he stroked his thumbs across the peaks of them. She arched up from the bed as that tension wound painfully tight. ‘Landon…’ She needed him like she couldn’t remember ever needing anyone else. She needed him to ease the tension, to give her the pleasure he’d promised. ”
He groans, “Such a good girl, so, so good,” and he repeats, “Good girl.”
As she reads, “ Finally he lowered his body to hers. She lifted her legs and locked them around his waist, as he eased his erection inside her. He was so big that she had to shift and arch and move to take him deeper. And still, she could not take all of him. He moved his hips with gentle thrusts. But instead of easing the tension, he just built it more. She was going out of her mind. She raked her nails down his back to his butt, clasping him against her. Then she nipped her teeth into his shoulder and rubbed her—”
He bites her cheek, soothes the sting with his tongue, sinks himself further into her, and his pace picks up with each swipe of his tongue. When his teeth pull at her ear, that sends her over. She comes in stuttering cacophonous convulsions, calling out Barry’s name. The book slipping from her fingers, as her hands go to grip the couch.
The wet tap tap tap of their hips meeting gets louder and louder as Barry loses all semblance of control and each frantic jerky thrust gets faster, harder as he chases after his own release. She loves it when he gets like this.
“Y-you always feel so amazing. So fucking hard for you. Holy f uck you’re so tigh— Jesus , Iris.”
His fingers fumble for her clit, a soft brush at first, she juts up following his fingers and he rubs her in surer strokes.
She stumbles into her second orgasm as he begins to spasm, thrusting, pumping into her, one, two, three, and four times.
She turns into him, nibbling at his bottom lip, licking into his mouth when it parts, and she moans into the kiss. He wraps his arms around her. Their bodies slicking together.
Just then the A/C cuts on, a cool breeze surrounds them.
He smiles, reaches beside her to the floor picking up the book.
“You should keep reading.”
He eases from her grasps. She frowns and sits up, trying to catch his eyes, so she can give him a look of disdain properly. But he kneels down to the floor in front of her, drapes her leg over his bare shoulder. Licking his lips before he kisses her thigh and runs his fingers over it reverently. His mouth inches closer and closer to her sex. That stupid smirk edging the corner of his lips.
“Keep reading Iris. Finish the book.”