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"You forgot the lube?" Len asks, glaring up at Barry.
"Sorry for thinking that we'd be fucking in 2016, not 1916!" Barry hisses, glaring back at Len.
"We're on a time ship, Barry. It travels through time."
Barry can't help but notice that Len's cock is twitching against his thigh as they argue. He'd always wondered if Len found their bickering a turn-on, and now he has an answer. Unfortunately, he's found this out because he'd forgotten to grab lube while sneaking onto the Waverider for a quickie. In his defense--
"My suit doesn't exactly have pockets. Why don't you have any here?" Barry points out.
"Because the only person I'm fucking isn't generally on the Waverider," Len says. He reaches up and brushes his thumb across Barry's stomach as Barry stops glaring and settles back across Len's thighs.
"OK, it's not like we're back in the Stone Age," Barry says, tracing the line of Len's hips with a finger. "There's got to be something available. Massage oil?"
"Are you asking me to get dressed, sneak out of the ship, find a shop that sells massage oil, steal some, and sneak back on the ship?" Len asks. He shouldn't be able to look that amused while naked, but Barry has learned never to underestimate Len's ability to express disdain.
Barry sighs. "No. That would be ridiculous."
"Right," Len says.
"Right," Barry says. He strokes Len's cock a few times, still thinking. "Spit?"
"With your speed?" Len says. "I don't mind a bit of friction, but I prefer all my appendages intact."
"OK, yeah."
Barry flicks his thumb across the tip of Len's cock and Len growls and flips them over, kissing Barry hard and hitching Barry's leg up so they can grind against each other. Barry clutches Len's shoulders, biting at his mouth and thanking his lucky stars that they'd found each other. Len feels so good against him, skin warm and mouth hot, his hand wrapped around Barry's thigh pressing just this side of bruising in the shape of fingerprints. Sex between them is a competition that they both win--harder, faster, so much more than anything Barry's ever found with anyone else.
It's great, right up until the point where something goes wrong--like, say, a lack of lube--and Barry finds himself intensely frustrated. All he'd wanted was a good fuck before Len went off on yet another adventure through time and space, and now he's not only not getting fucked, but he's stuck hiding in Len's room because he's not supposed to be here--or now.
Still, Len knows how to push his buttons in more ways than one, and right now he's got one hand between them, stroking Barry's cock fast and hard, his fingers rough enough that it almost hurts. Barry loves it, and he can tell it's not going to be long before he's coming all over Len's hand. All it takes is Len tightening his grip and giving Barry a soft tug right as he nips at the pulse point under Barry's chin and Barry's tumbling over the edge, body shaking and breath catching hard in his chest.
Len strokes him through it, continuing to press kisses to the same spot, and Barry rides the aftershocks right back into arousal. That particular side effect of his powers had been a fun discovery to make.
"Hm," Len says, suddenly resurfacing and looking down at Barry with a pleased expression that usually spells trouble.
"What?" Barry asks, wary.
Len just smirks and sits up, spitting in his own hand and reaching down to stroke Barry again. It's nearly an exact repeat of the first time, but Barry doesn't mind--there's a reason he comes so fast when he and Len are together. His minimal refractory period more than makes up for it. When Len strokes him through his second orgasm and doesn't stop, Barry catches on.
"Oh my god," he says, squeezing his eys shut in hopes that he's not about to start blushing. "Would that even work?"
"Worth a shot, right?" Len says, laughing even as he brushes his thumb over the slit of Barry's cock. "You certainly come enough."
Barry opens one eye and then shuts it again at the expression on Len's face. He can feel the heat creeping up his neck, but he can also feel the lightning in his spine as Len gets him off for a third time. The mess on his stomach is starting to puddle, and Len swipes a finger through it experimentally.
"You're the one who wants to get fucked so badly," Len says. "If you don't want to try this--"
"No," Barry says, quickly enough that Len laughs. Barry opens both eyes and props himself up on his elbows, looking down at himself. There's come splattered across most of his lower abdomen, a few streaks reaching up his chest. If Len wants to fuck him using come as lube, he's going to need to come at least a few more times. Even if the plan fails, this part of it holds some real appeal to him. "I'm, ah, willing to make this sacrifice."
"Ever the hero," Len says.
Len doesn't slow down, but he doesn't speed up either. What he does is adjust--tiny, perfect adjustments, reading every gasp Barry makes and every time his eyes flutter shut and every whimper he can't quite hold in, and finding the slightest difference in pressure or speed, the little flick of his thumb, whatever it is that Barry didn't know he needed. There are actual sparks flying off of him now, his body a constant thrum of electricity and need. He loses track of how often he's come--even if he tried to count, he's not sure he could. The orgasms just bleed into each other, never ending waves crashing through him.
Then Len stops, and Barry whines and grabs mindlessly for his hand, trying to get him back to getting Barry off.
"I thought you had something else in mind," Len says. His voice is low and rough and when Barry manages to get his eyes to focus, the intensity of Len's stare takes away any response he might have had.
He's a mess, half-exhausted but riding so high on pleasure that he doesn't care, and he looks--well, he's pretty sure that he looks like a gay bukkake fetishist's wet dream. Very wet dream.
"Still up for this?" Len asks.
Barry thinks about it and nods, then takes a couple of deep breaths to ground himself before he tries to speak.
"Go slow," he says.
"Never thought I'd be hearing that from you," Len says, swiping his fingers through Barry's come. "I will. Let me know if I need more."
His come isn't as plastic-slick as their usual lube, but Len's finger is wet and slippery enough that there's no discomfort as he pushes in. He's not usually rough--not unless Barry wants him to be--but he's being so careful right now that Barry feels vulnerable, biting his lip and letting his eyes fall closed again. The prep is a slow process, but Barry's not complaining, for once. The whole experience is enough to keep him teetering on the edge of overwhelmed, Len's fingers stroking into him and teasing him open. His nerves are on fire, every feeling amplified until he's squirming, trying to get more.
"You look..." Len trails off into silence, his voice gravel-rough and amazed. Barry wants to tease him about being caught speechless for the first time ever, but he can't manage more than a laugh that's mostly a moan.
"Just fuck me, please," he says.
Instead, Len slides down and sucks Barry's cock into his mouth, tongue pressed just below the head and one hand pressed hard across Barry's hips to keep him still. Barry cries out and arches into the heat of Len's mouth, shuddering as Len gives him a fast and sloppy blow job, nothing like the ones that Barry usually gets from him. He'd already been so far gone that it doesn't last more than a minute, and then Len's sitting back and spitting the resulting mess into his hand. Barry watches as Len strokes himself to slickness with it, wondering how far gone he is that he's so much more turned on by the sight than grossed out.
"You good?" Len asks.
"Yeah," Barry says. He takes a deep breath and is startled when Len leans down and kisses him, a quick press of lips that Barry chases after, tilting his head to try for more. Len pulls away with a smile and pushes Barry's legs further apart, settling between them and pressing his cock against Barry's ass.
This is a feeling Barry will never get tired of, the pressure and the stretch giving way to a pull, his body trying to get more of Len in any way possible. Len had once called him greedy for it, and he wasn't wrong. He reaches up and pulls Len closer, dragging him into a sharp kiss. He loves getting fucked like this, Len over him and inside him and all around him, chasing the taste of himself in Len's mouth, hands slipping on sweat-covered skin. It's desperate and messy and perfect.
"You're so," Len says, a groan cutting off his words when Barry vibrates around him. "Fuck, Barry. Fuck."
"Feels so good," Barry agrees. He's breathless and shivering and Len feels so right inside of him, the push and pull of his cock building a heat inside Barry that threatens to melt his bones. Len's still moving slowly, careful even when he's buried deep inside Barry, and Barry is grateful for that because the slickness is barely enough. Somehow, the friction and the pace make every moment more intimate and Barry aches with it, time slowing around him so he can take in everything. Len looks gorgeous like this, cheeks flushed and pupils blown dark, the blue of his eyes all the brighter for it. Barry could drown in this.
"Barry," Len says against Barry's mouth, and Barry kisses him again and again, each one better than the last.
His orgasm hits him like a shock, so much stronger than the earlier ones, the world dropping away until it's just his heartbeat staccato in his ears and the way Len feels against him. He registers that Len's coming only by the feeling of it, Len's grip on his hips tightening and his hips stuttering, finally losing their careful rhythm, the hot pulse of it inside Barry. After a few moments, Len pulls out carefully and drops on top of him heavily, panting hard in Barry's ear, and Barry remembers how to move in order to stroke Len's back.
"Wow," Barry says, voice wrecked.
Len just huffs a pleased noise into Barry's skin.
They lie together for a few more minutes, waiting for their heartrates to drop and their breathing to even out. Much to Barry's surprise, Len intiates the post-coital kissing, pressing his mouth softly along Barry's jawline until they're making out again. They only pull apart when Barry tries to move and realizes that he's starting to get uncomfortably sticky.
"I need a shower," he says, eyeing the streaks of drying come and sweat scattered across his skin.
"I need a good long look at you before you clean up," Len says, running his eyes down Barry's body with a smirk. "This is a good look on you, Barry."
Barry laughs. "Well, if you want to get me off that much some other time, I'm game," he says, sitting up and pressing a quick kiss to Len's cheek. "But now: shower. There are showers on here, right? Or something like a shower?"
"There are showers, yes," Len says. "Gideon, please show Barry to the shower."
Barry looks up and blinks as one of the wall panels shifts and reveals a small bathroom behind it.
"Wait, we can ask Gideon for things?" he says.
"Yes, Mr. Allen. Is there anything you were looking for?" Gideon asks, her voice filling the room from above.
"...lube?" Barry mumbles, feeling uncomfortable with asking the AI for it. Then again, he'd programmed her--or would program her, at some point. He'd have to remember this situation and try to figure out how to make it less weird.
"I believe there is a substantial supply of personal lubricant in the medical bay, Mr. Allen. If you ever need any dispensed, please let me know."
Barry looks at Len, who looks unsettled by the situation. Barry can't blame him. Somehow, the idea of asking Gideon for lube just feels wrong.
"Right. I'll, um, keep that in mind. I'm going to go shower now." He pauses and looks at Len again. "Join me?"
"It's not a big shower, Scarlet," Len says, settling back onto the bed.
"Yeah, but you got me all messy. The least you could do is help me clean up," Barry says, running a finger across his stomach.
"Well, you're the one who forgot the lube."
Barry shrugs and grins. "I think that worked out okay," he says.
Len favours him with an amused smirk as he rolls out of the bed and stretches. "Can't say I disagree."
* * *
EPILOGUE
"I am pretty sure that the Battle of the Somme was not supposed to involve robotic flying monkeys!" Firestorm yells, blasting away a monkey as it tried to grab onto him. "Or at least, Grey's pretty sure about that, and I trust his history knowledge way more than mine."
"No, this is definitely an aberration," Rip replies, doing his best to take down one of the swarm of monkeys flying overhead. They were technologically advanced, surprisingly robust, and very determined to make an end of the crew of the Waverider. So far, Heatwave had been the most successful of any of them, his gun capable of causing the monkeys to overheat.
"Um, guys?" the Atom says, sounding worried. "I can see more coming. Like, a lot more. Enough that we're in big, big trouble if we can't figure out a way to take them down."
"An electrical blast might work," Rip says, examining one of the downed creatures. "Not that I have any idea where we'll get something like that in the French countryside in the early 20th century, of course."
"Shoulda brought Mark Mardon instead of Raymond," Len drawls, keeping an eye out for any monkeys that are breaking through the wall of fire that Heatwave had surrounded them with. "He could just call down some lightning."
"Or the Flash," Rip mutters.
"Would you like me to ask him for assistance?" Gideon asks, her voice smooth and clear even through the chaos around them.
"What?" Rip asks. "No. Don't ask him to time-travel just to deal with some monkeys! The time stream is already broken enough."
"But the Flash is already in 1916," Gideon says.
Len lounges as casually as he can against the wall he's been peering around. "Well, if he's already here..."
"Why is the Flash in 1916?" Rip asks, sounding closer to a breakdown than usual. "Is he the cause of the monkeys?"
"He was here to visit Mr. Snart. His presence has not affected the timeline."
There is a long pause, briefly interrupted by a monkey screaming as Firestorm blows a hole in it.
"To visit Mr. Snart," Rip replies.
Out of the corner of Len's eye, he sees Sara and Mick exchanging amused glances. Mick opens his mouth to speak.
"Don't," Len warns him, trying to put as much ice in his voice as he can.
"Oh, that's nice," Ray says, punching a monkey out of the sky. "He's checking up on you."
"And you didn't think to mention this?!" Rip asks. "Do you have any idea what this could do to the timeline? What if we'd left him here? How did he even get here?"
"The important question is, do you want to ask him for help or would you rather die with your pride intact? As intact as it could be, being killed by robotic monkeys," Len says, deflecting questions he doesn't want to answer now or ever. His relationships aren't any of Rip Hunter's business.
"Fine. Call the Flash, if you please, Gideon," Rip says, looking mutinous. "The timeline has already been ripped to shreds, so what is one more terrible idea?"
"As you wish, Captain Hunter," Gideon says.
Rip rubs his forehead. "And Mr. Snart? I expect a very good explanation for this."
"What can I say?" Len drawls. "I guess the kid's just got no chill."
The groans are totally worth it.