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This is the third time that she’s rolled back into him in her computer chair and she sighs so loudly it echoes in the basement of the Foundry.
“Barry, what are you even doing here?”
“I told you,” he says, positioning himself for the fourth time to try to be out of her way, “I was bored.”
“You are bored? Are you serious? Your city is literally crawling with meta-humans who have crazy superpowers, you’re the fastest man on Earth, and your only source of entertainment is getting in my way?” Felicity takes off her glasses and wipes them against her shirt.
When she puts them back on he’s smiling her in that way that makes her stomach feel hot and her mouth quirk up in a giggly smile, “Maybe I just missed you. Is that such a bad thing?”
She rolls her eyes and looks back at her computer, where absolutely none of the scans have come up with anything, no facial recognition has popped up, and wouldn’t you know it? No sudden jail breaks. Perhaps Oliver was right, it was going to be quiet.
“Well, I think your night of being my side-kick is over,” she says, putting up the automatic scans for the evening, “I might just go home.”
“Mind if I join you?” Barry asks, holding out his hand for her to take. She raises an eyebrow at him and he tries to shrug nonchalantly.
“Barry, what’s wrong?”
“It’s just,” he reaches up to scratch the back of his head, “Iris and Eddy… They’re having dinner with Joe tonight and I really just… Well, I didn’t want to be hiding upstairs and I really did not want to eat burgers with them and I just-”
He stops when she clamps her hand over his mouth, “Barry, I’ve had enough heartbreak for the past year. How about we go for some Chinese and just eat our feelings?”
“I like the way you think, Smoak,” he says, grinning under her hand.
–
It took fifteen plates piled high of crab ragoons, egg rolls, sweet and sour chicken, and a few pieces of questionable sushi before they’re kicked out of the buffet, Barry patting his stomach and looking a little peckish, and Felicity frowning in hunger because she’d only managed to eat half her plate before they were scuttled out the doors.
“I can’t believe you can eat that much,” she says, mentally ticking the calories in her head, an old habit from when her mom was dieting.
“Me neither. I’m thinking about taking out a loan so I can afford groceries better.”
They eventually end up in a bar even though Barry can’t get drunk but Felicity is ready for a plate of greasy jalapeno poppers and a vodka lemonade.
“So, like, I never really got the story between you and Iris. So you’ve loved her since before you moved in with them?”
“Yup.”
“You’ve never confessed your feelings?”
“Yes.”
“And now she’s dating a super hunky cop who is also your father’s partner?”
“Well I wouldn’t call him ‘hunky’ but-”
“And you haven’t tried dating anyone else? See if you can get it out of your system?”
Barry looks down at the six empty shot glasses in front of him. The bartender was watching him carefully from the other side of the restaurant, probably waiting for him to puke, but Barry insisted it didn’t affect him.
(“Maybe you should try harder drugs,” Felicity said, her eyes wide after he downed the fourth shot in a row.
He wiped his mouth, “I know the Devil’s lettuce doesn’t work.”
He finished the last two shots to the sound of Felicity’s uncontrollable laughter and constant gaspings of “The Devil’swhat?)
“I dated this girl in college, or maybe dating isn’t the right word…” he begins to say, but the side of his mouth quirks up just a bit, triggering Felicity’s maternally-given gossip detector.
“Ooh, is there some juicy story behind that?” she sips the last of her lemonade and nods when the bartender offers her another.
“You know, when I was in college, I sat next to this girl in my physics 201 course. She was having trouble with the material, and I already knew it because I’d taken it in high school, so…”
“So what? You tutored her for some kisses?” she teases next to him, and he blushes and holds his face in his hands. “Oh no, really? You sly dog.”
“She actually,” he says, clearing his throat, “Invited me to an orgy.”
She nearly spits out the sip she’d just taken, coughing and sputtering for a second, “What?”
“Yeah.”
“How do people even start those kinds of things?” is the first question that pops out of her mouth, followed by, “Did you do it?”
“No, no,” he says, still with his face in his hands and an embarrassed smile.
“Why not?”
“Well,” he says, watching Felicity while she takes a sip, “It wasn’t going to be fifty-fifty. There were going to be something like, three girls to each guy. And that’s a lot of pressure,” he places his hand over his heart, “and I don’t like to disappoint.”
He waits for her laughter to die down before continuing, “So I didn’t do it.”
“Oh man,” she wipes a tear from her eye, “That’s great. That’s so funny. I don’t think all my college experiences summed up together could add up to that.”
“Oh, what, you never did anything crazy? You just jumped straight from goody-two-shoes to being a vigilante?”
She sits up straight and smiles primly, “Of course. I’m a good girl.”
There’s something about the way she says it that affects both of them. She feels it thrill right between her legs when the look he’s giving her changes, just ever so slightly.
When they finally decide to leave, her hunger satisfied and her vision slightly hazed, she’s already decided what’s going to happen.
–
“Here you go,” Barry says, setting her down right in front of her apartment door. She holds the sides of her head, saying something along the lines of Oh mama and he holds her arm while she rightens herself. She reaches up to pat her hair, self-consciously, before unlocking the door.
“Thanks, Barry,” she says, halfway into the apartment and half in the hallway, looking at him.
So, yeah, her body had already decided what it wanted to do. Her slightly-buzzed brain had agreed with the concept, but she’d been hoping for a little longer than the .5 second trip it took to get to her front door to figure out a plan and gather up her courage.
But thankfully, instead of jetting off in a red and yellow flash of lightening that would streak all the way to Central City, he hesitates.
“It was nice seeing you,” he says, and she just goes for it.
She holds his face and brings his lanky figure down to her lips and thankfully, he doesn’t make a fool out of her.
Instead he makes her come alight under his mouth, kissing her back with only a fraction of hesitation, walking her backwards into the apartment and closing the door behind them, before turning in a circle and pressing her back against it.
They don’t break the kiss, don’t pause to look at each other or ask any questions. His hands have already unzipped her jacket and let it drop at her feet and her hands are halfway done with the buttons of his.
His tongue strokes against hers when she raises his shirt up enough to run her hands over his stomach. He’s skinny, but there’s muscle under her palms and she aches to run her tongue over them. One of his hands is palming her breast over her shirt and the other is grabbing the hair at the back of her neck and pulling it back so he can deepen the kiss.
Are her legs shaking? Does she even have legs? It feels like the only thing she is right now is a cloud of thudding hormones and desperate lust.
“Where is your bedroom?” he breathes against her ear and she moans at the sensation of it, goosebumps prickling down her arms. He notices and runs his tongue up the side of her neck. Her answer for him chokes in her throat, her thoughts completely lost.
“That’s alright,” his voice is low and husky in her periphery and her fingers twitch at his sides, nails digging into his skin. He reacts by pressing her against the door harder, “We can do this here.”
It’s the best idea she’s heard all year.
He pulls back just long enough to take off her glasses (smudged and askew) and place them in the bowl where she keeps her keys before kissing her again.
The long sleeved sweater he has on it just a ridiculous barrier that needs to come off now and her hands push it up until he finally gets the hint and tears it off, throwing it in some sort of distant corner in her house.
His hands unbutton her blouse in a blur and she’s suddenly bare from the waist-up. She looks down at herself and back up at him, “Wow, even my bra?”
“I do my best to impress,” he says with that grin and his lips are on her again. And as much as she wants to spend a few hours running her hands over the muscles that he’s been hiding, there are more urgent matters to deal with.
Like, perhaps, the hard warmth she brushes her hand against when running her hands against the front of his jeans. All she wants to do from that moment forward is figure out how to unbuckle his belt without breaking the kiss.
“Why,” he grunts against her mouth, his fingers having already unbuttoned his target, “are you wearing skinny jeans?”
“What? Barry Allen can’t take a challenge?” she breathes, kicking off her shoes and helping him shimmy off her offensive denim.
It takes an awkwardly long time, even with a speedster to help her out, but they manage. When she looks up, he’s already discarded his own pants, and her face is right at crotch level.
Oh yeah. This was happening.
“Do you have condoms?” he says, bringing her back to the present. She stands up straight, mentally going through the last time she’d even bothered with thinking about actually having sex with someone else.
“Euhh, bedside table, I think I have a couple in there.”
He races off and is back in about half a second and she’s pressed against the door again, being kissed senseless. His hands are all over her and she thrills underneath the touches, her own hands being unable to do much except tug the hair at the nape of his neck and dig her nails into his shoulder.
He gives her butt a quick squeeze before hooking a hand at the back of her knee, bringing the leg up to his hip. And then he’s right there, pressing against her entrance with his hot cock, and any thoughts or regrets or higher-level thinking about the entire situation is lost.
She tilts her hips and he sinks into her and it is the most amazing thing she’s felt in a long, long time.
The moan he makes is like beautiful music to her hormones and it makes her skin tingle and her chest feel light and him inside of her just feels so good.
He hitches her other leg to wrap around his waist and thrusts into her, holding her steady against the door and swallowing her moans into his mouth.
She’s lost in the feel of him inside her, her hands grasping at anything to anchor her but with each thrust her thoughts scatter and break apart. With every swipe of his tongue, every thrust that makes her hips drive back into the solid door behind them, she feels less like a human and more like the embodiment of need.
When she orgasms he follows after her and then he presses her against the door, heaving heavy breaths into the crook of her neck while he recovers and then, slowly, they distangle themselves from one another.
They just look at each other, the silence of the apartment only broken by the sound of their breathing.
“I should…” he trails off.
“You should stay,” she says, without even thinking about it.
“Yeah,” he swallows, looking her over for a second before finally making eye contact again, “I should stay.”