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“You’re going to have to pay for all this damage, you know.” Barry doesn’t know how he is even able to form words right now, but he gets the joke out in a breathless moan.


Oliver is shaking his head, breaking the kiss only for a brief moment to say, “You’re gonna have to make me, Bar,” in a low, guttural voice that sends shivers up Barry’s spine.


The night is young, Barry informs himself, We've got plenty of time for this.


Of course, this was bound to happen. Dinner was great--the restaurant Oliver chosen was super fancy, and his suit fit his perfect-for-vigilanting body flawlessly. Ripping that suit off and getting a taste of Oliver’s body, hot and sweaty and quivering in pleasure, was all Barry could think about during dinner. So when Oliver leaned in to kiss Barry goodbye at his apartment door, he took that opportunity to pounce, and what began as a chaste goodnight kiss had morphed into a please-fuck-me-into-my-mattress kiss.


But Barry’s bedroom was quite far from the front door (well, it was now, due to them now wanting nothing more than to fuck and to fuck now), and now Barry and Oliver’s mission was to maneuver their way to the bedroom while simultaneously not breaking anything and not letting their lips part for too long.


But that task was harder than it seemed, and so far Barry has bumped into his couch, the wall (twice), and a stand which held a lamp. It almost fell, but whatever good karma that Barry had been collecting decided to prevent the lamp from crashing to the ground.


Now, the bedroom was just a few steps (or stumbles) away. Oliver uses all his force to push Barry through the open bedroom door (Barry must have God Himself on his side) but he’s a few inches off and Barry’s back collides with the door frame.


Barry winces, breaking the kiss. “You okay?” Oliver asks, worried. Barry just looks at him for a moment before smiling brightly and pulling Oliver in for another kiss. “I guess you’re alright then.” he whispers in between kisses.


“Shut up and do your job,” Barry moans in response. Oliver knows exactly what he’s talking about. He forces Barry through the bedroom door and shoves him onto the bed. That’s when they part lips mutually and stare into each other’s eyes for a long moment.


Finally, Oliver mutters, “Well, these clothes don’t come off themselves.”


Barry fake sighs. “Oliver Jonas Queen, always ruining the moment.”


Oliver moves his hands along Barry’s sides, finally sliding one hand under his shirt to play with a nipple while the other rakes though his hair. Barry releases a breathless moan in response. “I might’ve ruined the moment-” Oliver says, lightly trailing his teeth along the side of Barry’s throat, “But I think that we both agree-” He begins to kiss and suck on a fixed spot, and Barry’s moans are going louder, “That this is much better than staring, yeah?”


“Oh God…” Barry groans as Oliver shifts in between his legs, “Fuck me, please.”


“Relax, Bar,” Oliver says, and Barry isn't exaggerating when he says that that voice was the hottest thing he’s heard in his entire life. “We've got all night.”


“You weren't acting like that earlier,” Barry points out and Oliver’s hand slides down Barry’s stomach, “I have a bruise on my back because you slammed me into the door frame.”


“You’re bruises heal,” Oliver responds, and with a smirk, he adds, “You’re lucky you pointed that out, because now I wanna rip your clothes off and add as many more bruises as I can before they heal in the morning.”


Barry doesn’t speak after that, he just lets Oliver kiss him and guide him to a sitting position, where Oliver proceeds to practically rip his suit jacket and button up shirt off. But Barry refuses to let Oliver do all the work, and he strips Oliver off his jacket and his shirt at the same time. But, being the Flash, he is faster than Oliver, and he’s just as strong as him, so he is able to swing Oliver around so that Oliver’s back is on the bed and Barry is on top of him.


“God, Barry,” Oliver murmurs, breathless, “I thought you wanted me to fuck you.”


Barry smirks. “Well, you were taking too long.” The next flurry of movements were at the other end of the spectrum of graceful, but they get the job done, because finally, they are completely naked. And Barry finally is able to take Oliver in--the way Oliver’s eyes darken before Barry kisses a trail down Oliver’s body, from his lips straight to his waistline, the way Oliver’s breath hitches when Barry places a feather light kiss on the tip of his cock, the way his lips curve into a perfect ‘o’ as Barry begins to suck on the tip of his cock.


“God, yes...” He takes that as a sign to continue, so Barry takes in as much of Oliver’s cock that can fit in his mouth at once. “Fuck, Barry…” Oliver lets a hand rest on Barry’s head, but when Barry starts swirling his tongue, then bobbing his head back and forth, and Oliver starts tugging at Barry’s hair.


Barry could do this all night--suck on Oliver’s dick and just soak in the sounds of pleasure he makes. But Oliver gets out a breathy, “Barry, wait.” He understands--they've waited too long for this to end like that. He pulls off with a ‘pop’, and Oliver begs, breath shaky, “Get up here.” Barry makes his way up so that their faces meet, but before Barry can lean in for a kiss, Oliver uses his strength to flip Barry over so that he’s on the bottom now.


“Who’s the impatient one now?” Barry pipes up as he reaches for the lube on the dresser. He wasn't exactly positive that their night was going to end in sex, but he always left it out on date nights just in case.


Oliver simply rolls his eyes and slathers lube all over the fingers on one hand; he wraps the free arm (the one that wasn't going to be busy prepping Barry) around Barry’s waist and places a gentle kiss on Barry’s lips as he slowly begins to work Barry open with a finger. “Mmmmm, more,” Barry moans against Oliver’s lips, and after a few long moments, he slides a second. The groans Barry makes afterwards are so intoxicating that Oliver adds a third finger faster than he would normally.


It’s excruciating, like some sort of sweet torture. It makes Barry want to take Oliver’s cock now, but he instead lets Oliver work, whimpering and gasping while letting his lands run wild all over Oliver. Barry finds a spot on Oliver’s neck and gets to work, kissing and sucking and nipping.


“Fuck, Barry…” Oliver groans.


“That’s actually, mmmmm, a very good idea,” Barry whimpers in response.


It must be the line, or maybe the desperate look on his face that makes Oliver’s eyes darken. He pulls his fingers out and whispers, ”Tell me if this hurts, okay?” Barry takes that as fair warning--he slams his eyes shut, so he doesn't see a thing. He can only feel Oliver pushing in. He can’t help but wince a bit--he’s never taken this much of him in one thrust. But God, it felt so good, and his need far outweighed his pain.


“Are you okay? Am I-” Oliver is asking, but Barry cuts him off.


“God yes! I’m fine...please, just fuck me.” He sounds so needy, so desperate, and he supposes that Oliver feels the same, because there’s no witty response, or cocky smirk. There’s just Oliver letting Barry grip his shoulders as he thrusts into him.


There’s nothing but bliss now. They’re placing sloppy kisses on each other, Barry is clawing at Oliver’s back, and Oliver is fucking him with as little restraint as possible without actually hurting him. It’s not hard enough, because Barry is moving his hands to Oliver’s sweaty hips and growling, “Harder-” Wordlessly, Oliver takes Barry’s hands in his and holds them above his head before increasing the intensity of his thrusts. “Yes, Oliver...Oh God, Oliver…


It doesn't take long for Barry to start feeling his orgasm. He was aching for release, and everything felt so fucking good. “Oliver…Good God Oliver…” And when Oliver’s mouth find the soft skin of Barry’s throat, he cries out one last time before he’s sent over the edge. Oliver watches him, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth opened in a wordless cry. He can feel Barry’s grip on his shoulder tighten and his hole clenching around his aching cock; it isn't much longer until Oliver comes too, releasing a few moans as he shudders out his orgasms. Oliver has just enough strength to pull out of Barry before collapsing beside him.


Silence. Then Barry speaks up. “What a lovely date.”


Oliver releases a breathy laugh. “You’re right about that. I wish I had your powers right about now so that I had a fast recovery time too.”


“It’s okay,” Barry responds, “We’ll have round two in the morning. Right now, let’s get ourselves cleaned up.” However, Barry is the one who does most of the cleaning up--wiping the sweat and come off of both himself and Oliver, putting things back where they belong. Oliver only helps with changing the sheets.


“I, um--you’re gonna stay the night, right?” Barry asks once everything is done. They are still naked, and Barry had moved their suits to a pile in the corner of the room.


“Of course I am,” Oliver says, “There’s no place on Earth I would rather be.”


Barry blushes. Weird how I just had his cock inside me and there wasn't anything wrong with that, but as soon as he says something sappy, I’m a mess, he thinks to himself. But he says, “Good. But I don’t think I have anything for you to sleep in--that’ll fit you, anyway.”


Oliver smiles. “I’ll make it work.”


So Barry loans Oliver one of his STAR Labs sweatshirts, since some of them were a bit big on him, and an old pair of sweatpants. He settles for a plain white T-Shirt and a clean pair of boxers. Since he felt bad for making Oliver sleep in hot, baggy clothes, Barry made sure to crank the AC to maximum temperature before turning out the lights and hopping into bed with him.


“What’d you do that for?” Oliver asks.


“You’re going to get hot sleeping in those,” Barry says, “And I’ll have a valid excuse to cuddle with you now.” He moves in close, letting Oliver wrap his arms around his stomach while Barry rested his head on Oliver’s chest.


There’s a long silence, and Barry assumes that Oliver has fallen asleep. So he’s startled when Oliver says, “Thanks.”


“For what? The sex?” 


“No,” Oliver says, with a chuckle. He hesitates before saying, “For being with me.”


“Ollie, I’ll always be with you,” Barry responds, confused. What is he talking about?


“Yeah, I know,” Oliver answers, “But with you, it’s different, you know? After our first time, you fell asleep almost instantly afterwards, and I was up for about an hour just watching you sleep. Creepy, I know, but I couldn’t look away. You were so beautiful, so perfect, and I--” The moonlight slipping through the curtains illuminates Oliver’s face, so Barry can see the tenderness in his eyes and he finishes, “I love you.”


“Oh God Oliver! You’re such a big, sappy baby!” But Barry places a long, chaste kiss onto his boyfriend’s lips, and when they part, he says, “I love you too.”


Oliver smiles, and Barry places his head back on Oliver’s chest. Oliver dozes off first, and when Barry is sure that he’s deep asleep, he whispers, “It’s always been you. And it’s always gonna be you.”