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Flowers Never Bend With the Rainfall

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Barry likes working at Lovers.

It’s certainly not something he ever saw himself doing, not when he was in middle school and obsessed over forensics and not in high school when he skipped two grades to get into the local community college ahead of schedule. He honestly hadn’t ever given much thought to what sort of job he’d pull to get him through school, through life, until the hopeful, fateful day he’d become part of the CCPD. He sort of figured he’d be the stereotypical college student and get a job in fast food, or maybe somewhere a little more upscale like what Iris had at Jitters. At most, Barry figured he’d do volunteer work and maybe meet some interesting characters to add to his life’s story.

He never really anticipated working at Central City’s most respected sex shop. Not that there’s anything wrong with working there; his coworkers are amazing and Lovers doesn’t seem to attract a lot of creeps or weirdos which makes it better, too. Barry just never expected to end up working at a place that sells anything and everything pertaining to sex.

(And, if the gobsmacked expressions Joe, Iris, and Cisco give him are any indication, no one else expected Barry to land a job there either.)

Regardless, Barry really likes working at Lovers. It’s different and never boring and it fulfills a part of his personality he never got a chance to express elsewhere. He’s never been reserved about his sexuality but being able to talk out in the open, with coworkers and customers alike, about sex and pleasure adds something to Barry’s life that wasn’t there before. He goes into work each day only a touch nervous about what might happen, but he figures that’s pretty par for course with any job, regardless of where you work. He leaves work every day feeling like he could take on the world with sex positivity alone.



The man comes in with his hands deep in his pockets and eyes trained on the ground. He immediately stands out and it’s not just because he’s dressed in all black that contrasts starkly with the garishly bright colors of the shop. He seems to exude an aura of doom and gloom and bitterness. His hair looks like a deceptively soft and artfully crafted pile of craziness on top of his head, and he somehow manages to pull off dark jeans, a leather jacket, and a t-shirt paired with a casual suit vest. It’s ridiculous, really, and Barry can’t stop staring.

The man doesn’t touch a thing and barely looks at anything that isn’t his own shoes.

Taylor pulls Barry until they’re in relative privacy by the registers.

“You don’t have to talk to him.” They say immediately.

Barry’s frowns in confusion immediately. It’s the Lovers motto, essentially, to greet every single customer and make them feel welcome in a place many feel awkward.

“He comes in every so often and he…” Taylor makes a pitying face. “He doesn’t really like anyone and we all just kind of accepted that he won’t ever buy anything.”

Barry dares to peek at him again. The man’s ridiculousness increases with the thoughtful way he’s staring at the OhMiBod Lovelife collection as though it holds the answer to the universe. “Why doesn’t he buy anything?”

Taylor shrugs their shoulders. “His wife died a year or two ago. It was in the papers, a really awful car accident.” Taylor sighs. “He comes in every few months and I swear, it’s like he’s looking for something to fill that void.”

Barry makes a distressed noise and his eyes practically latch onto the man’s back. “That’s awful.”

Taylor nods. “It’s really crappy. We’ve all tried to get him to talk to us, talk about anything. But, I mean, you walk up and say ‘hey how’s it going, what can we help you find today?’ he’ll just stare blankly at you until you walk away.” Taylor grabs Barry’s shoulder and their voice turns stern—it’s intimidating even though Barry is literally a full foot taller than them. “Just leave him be. If he asks a question, help him out, but don’t worry too much if he just leaves. Got it?”

Something tugs at Barry and he knows he can’t do that. He brushes past Taylor as politely as he can and walks right up to the man. He doesn’t hover, and he doesn’t tap the guy on the shoulder. Barry starts fixing up a display of lube in just the right spot so that when he turns, he’ll see Barry.

It works, flawlessly, and Barry doesn’t let the horrified surprise in the man’s eyes deter him as their gazes meet. Barry grins, bright and genuine. “Hey! Finding everything alright?”

It’s a nearly impossible to see movement, but the guy does shrug.

Barry lets his grin falter in a well-practiced manner. “Is there something specific you’re shopping for today?” Barry asks as he fixes one last bottle of lube before facing the man head on. He extends a hand. “I’m Barry, by the way. You are?”

The man looks numb as he returns the handshake. “Harry.” His voice is soft and choked and Barry tries to ignore the chills it sends through him. Barry doesn’t miss the gasp of surprise, hushed as it may be, that comes from one of his coworkers when Harry starts to talk again. “I’m not really looking for anything in particular.” Harry starts to turn away and normally, Barry might be deterred. There’s something about Harry, though, that just screams help.

So Barry doesn’t let himself be brushed off so easily. “Well we do have some great sales going on, particularly on our collection of Doc Johnson toys. It might be worth your while to take a look over there.” Barry grins as charming as he can and is surprised when Harry looks over to where he’s pointing. Harry’s face kind of pinches together and immediately Barry shifts his tactics. “Or, we just got in the PULSE II Solo and Duo masturbators in.” Barry changes where he’s pointing, now aimed at the reserved and minimal Hot Octopuss display.

Harry snorts and Barry knows it’s at the company name. All the same when Barry motions for him to follow, he obeys. Once they’re beside the display, Barry launches into the explanation about the toys. How the Solo is more similar to the original PULSE, what makes the Duo different, all the different features. He pointedly doesn’t mention the uses for sex with a partner, gets the feeling that would only rub salt in a wound, and instead keeps listing off the benefits.

Harry hangs on his every word. He hums and ahs and ohs at all the right spots and it’s all genuine, not for show like some customers. Barry can feel Taylor’s eyes burning holes in his back but he doesn’t react.

“What do you recommend?” Harry asks after Barry’s maybe-too-long spiel.

Barry feels a little hot around the collar. He’s still not used to this part of the job, even as he rattles off what he’s been told to say. “We can’t personally recommend anything, but I know the Duo has ranked better than the Solo in most reviews because of the material. The Duo is silicone, but the Solo is silicone and ABS plastic, which can sometimes put people off.” Barry points to the duo. “I’d say the better material is worth paying another twenty bucks, but the features are honestly the same.” He shrugs even if it feels weird to do so. “It comes down to what you want on your body.”

Harry stares at the display intently and Barry stifles a laugh. He’s only a little surprised when Harry picks up the box for the PULSE II Duo and turns it in his hands. Harry briefly looks at Barry before continuing to read the box. After a few tortuously long minutes, Harry starts nodding to himself.

Eyes still locked on the box, Harry turns and starts to walk. “Thank you, Barry.” It’s a murmur and so quiet Barry almost misses it. Harry has strolled up to the counter and is paying—a shocked Taylor ringing him up—before Barry can say you’re welcome.

Harry doesn’t catch his eye on the way out and Barry swears to himself it’s not like he wanted it to happen anyway. He’s just glad he got the guy to buy something. Taylor is too, if their whoop of surprise is anything to go by.

“Barry Allen, you must be a magician.” They tell him as he returns to the counter. “A magician or a sorcerer or a fucking—I don’t know.” Taylor shakes their head in disbelief. “Good job.” They extend their hand for a fistbump, and Barry returns it, stomach bubbling with pride.



That night when Barry goes out with Cisco and Iris and Caitlin, he definitely doesn’t think about Harry and definitely doesn’t wonder if the Duo is performing as well as hoped. He blames the flush of his cheeks on the copious amounts of alcohol Iris is plying him with. When he first turns down an incredibly sweet blonde and then a really hot older guy in a parka, Barry blames it on being too drunk and ignores the way his friends side-eye him.

Barry goes home alone that night and that’s totally fine and not at all because Harry has been on his mind all day. Because Harry hasn’t been on his mind at all, not even a little bit.




Barry mostly forgets about the encounter after a few weeks. He goes about his usual business: school, work, school, work, drinking with friends, more work and more school. It’s normal and Harry fades from the forefront of his memory eventually. Barry puts everything he can into work and school and when the assistant manager leaves and Taylor offers him the position, he accepts immediately.

He’s working alone the next time Harry comes in, several months after their first encounter.

Barry notices him instantly, mainly because the store is dead empty on an early Wednesday afternoon. He turns and greets Harry without immediately realizing who it is; when it dawns on him though, he doesn’t falter. Harry grins back at him, something more small and private, and as he does his usual stroll around the store there’s a definite bounce in his step. Harry is still wearing all black, still looking ridiculous and handsome as he peruses. But the darkness that had been overshadowing him last time isn’t present anymore.

Barry starts to feel antsy and finally lets himself go to Harry. He’s clearly expecting it, and turns to face Barry just as quick. “What brings you in today?” Barry asks, taking note that Harry was looking at the Tantus collection.

Harry shrugs, just as he had before, but it’s less reserved and more just friendly. “Thought I’d stop by.” Harry looks exhausted, when Barry looks a little closer, but not unhappy. “Any recommendations?”

The back of Barry’s neck heats at that and it’s his turn to shrug. “BlokeToys just released some new additions for the ZOLO Stax unit, they’re pretty interesting.” Harry follows him without needing any prompting. The ZOLO Stax is another masturbator and if Barry’s being honest, it kind of fascinates him. Each ring has a different color and texture inside, and they come together to make a fairly unique masturbatory experience.  He explains all this to Harry and starts to falter when he only gets a disinterested stare in return.

Harry doesn’t let him fret for long, though. “I don’t think I need another masturbator, Barry.”

Barry’s knees definitely don’t buckle just because Harry said masturbator and his name in the same sentence. He nods in agreement. “Totally understandable.” Barry looks around the store and contemplates the options. “We’ve got some new cock rings in lately.”

“Not today.” Harry interrupts immediately. His grin is good-natured and eases Barry into his next question.

“A dildo then, maybe?” Barry has never really been opposed to sex or talking about it. Sure when he started at Lovers, he was maybe a bit nervous and maybe blushed a lot when he said described the products, using words like “cock ring” or “dildo” or “prostate massager”. Now though, it’s less the words and more the man he’s talking to that gets a fire coiling in his stomach.

Harry hums, contemplating. “A plug, maybe.” He speaks so casually it actually throws Barry off for a quick second.
“Just to start.” Harry’s voice has a teasing lilt and it takes a lot more effort than it should to guide Harry right back to the Tantus selection. Harry makes a curious noise but doesn’t stop Barry from reaching out.

Barry grabs a Ryder from the wall, standard and orange. “It’s a little on the larger side,” he admits, “not one meant for beginners.” But you don’t really seem like a beginner, Barry absolutely doesn’t say. Harry seems to hear it anyways because he smirks. “It’s a good, solid plug. Works really well for constant, day to day use or all day wear.” Like if you’re on a date and want to surprise someone, Barry also definitely doesn’t say.

Harry nods along again. “I’ve read up on… this company.” He nods at the wall of toys. “They seem…” Harry waves his hand around in a vague and all-encompassing gesture that Barry pretends to understand. “Sounds good.” Harry agrees. “Ring me up?”

Barry had a whole speech planned, ready to dole out more information about the toy since he was sure it would take more convincing. Barry raises his eyebrows and Harry mimics the expression right back. “Okay.” Barry agrees; he turns sharp on his heel and can feel Harry following him a little too closely. Not that Barry really minds, it’s just really distracting is all. It’s distracting enough that even after Barry is behind the counter and Harry is standing across from him, it takes him four tries to enter the right password to get into the sale portion of the register.

Harry just waits patiently and somehow that isn’t helping.

Eventually, Barry gets the plug rung up and reads off the total to Harry. As Harry pulls out cash, Barry tries to fill the silence. “So, any plans for the weekend?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wants to kick himself.

“I’ve never been much of a fan of Valentine’s Day,” Harry replies quietly, face hard in concentration as he digs for change in his wallet. “But, I suppose being single gives me a free pass to gorge myself on ice cream and binge watch movies without fear of judgment.” Harry finally hands over the necessary amount and smiles at Barry. “You?”

“Oh, uh, nah. Probably just be here or at home, hanging with friends or, whatever.” Barry shrugs and refocuses his attention on the register. He hands Harry the receipt, bags up the toy in a discreet black bag and hands that over as well. Harry makes no attempt to leave though; in fact, he presses his elbows against the counter and apparently gets comfortable.

“Tell me something about yourself, Barry.”

It should be weird, especially since Harry’s tone is downright predatory, but Barry can talk about himself. He knows how to do that. “Uh, I’m working on my thesis, and I’m actually ahead of schedule so that’s sort of a miracle.” Barry says with a laugh, running his fingers through his hair. It really is a miracle for him, and even if his last meeting about his thesis was almost a week ago, he’s still riding the high of getting shit done on time.

“Very nice.” Harry’s grin is kind but, again, predatory. “I noticed your name tag now says assistant manager.” He adds with a nod to the little metal clip on Barry’s shirt.

“Oh, uh, yeah. The old assistant manager had to leave town due to personal issues, and Taylor thinks I’m a great fit here and I’m pretty sure they’ll do anything to keep me around.” Barry shrugs. “I mean, I like it here, I didn’t need a promotion to keep me around but the pay is better.”

Barry bites his tongue for a moment before giving in to the curiosity he’s had since their first encounter, so many months before.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Harry agrees smoothly.

“Why—why do you let me help you?” The words stumble together and Barry immediately feels ridiculous for asking. “I mean, my manager mentioned that you don’t normally like people helping you find stuff, so, I just…” Barry wants to sink down and hide behind the counter but he resists, just barely. “Why me?”

Harry smiles.

“It’s not just you,” it’s a quiet, private response that Barry has to lean in to hear. “I just figured…” Harry trails off, as though he’s searching for what to say.

“I just decided it was time. The anniversary of my wife’s passing was a few days before our first meeting, and rather than wallowing in self-pity, it felt like a good time to take a few baby steps, to treat myself, so to speak.” Harry laughs, sudden and Barry startles. “I could practically hear my wife’s voice telling me to get out there, to stop being such a grump.”

The back of Barry’s neck is burning. “I’m sorry,” he says, stilted, “for your loss. You didn’t have to tell me—I’m sorry.” He bites the inside of his cheek to rein in the rambling; the urge to apologize nags at him, as does the feeling that he’s crossed some line. He feels as though he’s privy to something that isn’t his to know.

Harry waves off the apology, though. “Don’t be. I may have decided it was time to make the change, but I don’t think I would’ve been nearly as successful without your help. Meeting you, Barry, has been a highlight of the past few months.”

Harry doesn’t elaborate, even as Barry blinks owlishly back. Barry isn’t sure what to say, so he doesn’t speak up.

A beat of silence passes and then Harry is tapping the counter. “Well, I should be off. Things to do,” and if Barry isn’t imagining it, he’s pretty sure Harry shakes the discreet little bag with a flush to his cheeks. “Have a good weekend, Barry.”

“You too!” Barry yelps back, a beat belated, pretending his voice doesn’t crack.



They run into each other at Jitters and it isn’t until after they part ways Barry realizes it was only half as weird as it should have been.

At first, Barry isn’t even totally sure it’s Harry, because they’re in a single file line during the early afternoon rush, and ‘dark black hair, black t-shirt, pale skin’ could describe plenty of people in Central City. Barry is two customers behind him and is trying to find some certifiable clue as to whether or not the guy is Harry when the line moves.

It isn’t until the guy speaks to the barista that Barry has his answer; it’s definitely Harry, because Barry recognizes that voice immediately.

“A medium coffee, black. And I’d like to pay for whatever the young man in the red shirt orders,” Harry doesn’t look at Barry when he talks but Barry knows. He knows he’s wearing a red shirt and he knows Harry is talking about him. The barista looks through the line and sees Barry immediately, shoots him a grin and a wink and takes down the order. Harry forks over the cash, probably more than necessary since Barry never orders anything especially expensive, and then finds a seat.

Barry orders his drink with a flushed face, then takes the change from the barista and, after a nod from Harry, drops a few bills in the tip jar and pockets the rest. He patiently waits for both their drinks to be ready before joining him. Barry passes Harry his coffee first, then the change from his pocket. Their knees are practically touching when Barry sits.

“Uh, hey. Thanks.” Barry lifts his drink to clarify.

Harry shrugs. “My pleasure.” Before Barry can even begin to parse out what that sentence does to his brain, Harry keeps talking. “What are you up to today, Barry?”

“Just got off an early shift at work. Probably gonna spend the day working on my thesis.” Barry relaxes and the warmth of his drink helps. “You?”

Harry shrugs. “Need to meet up with my daughter later, but that’s all.”

Barry tries to hide the way he chokes on his drink, fails miserably because Harry laughs openly at him. “Y—you have a kid?”

Harry sighs and it’s wistful. “I wouldn’t call her a kid. She’s in a running start program at Central City Community College. She’s seventeen.” Something in Harry’s stare is challenging, like he’s daring Barry to be put off by his age or something.

Barry has to bite his tongue before he calls Harry a silver fox. They’re not to that point in their relationship. Not yet. Barry is trying to think of a way to let Harry know he very much does not mind the age difference, not even a little bit, when an obnoxious chiming sound interrupts their conversation.

It’s Harry’s phone and he stares at the screen like he’s just as disgruntled about being interrupted as Barry feels. “Speak of the devil.” Harry sighs and returns his phone to his pocket. “See you around?” It’s a question, it’s hesitant, it’s soft and leaves Barry feeling twisted up inside. He knows the answer though.

“Yeah, course.” Barry nods and watches Harry leave.



The next time Harry comes into Lovers, Barry is ready for him.

(Which is to say that Barry has been obsessively looking over every time the door chimes with a new customer desperately hoping Harry would show. He does show, eventually.)

Barry tries not to corner him but it’s kind of impossible. He feels lucky that Harry flashes him a grin and takes Barry’s insistence in stride. As they walk toward the back of the store, Barry starts to fire off questions.

“Have you ever tried something from Fun Factory?”

Harry shakes his head, still grinning.

“They’re a really great company.” Barry feels giddy as he talks and it takes conscious, consistent effort to not bounce as he walks. “Great materials, great toys, really innovative but nothing too crazy.” Barry can’t help his grin. “Their Stronic collection is ridiculously awesome.”

He takes a few quicker steps to get ahead, and is holding the box by the time Harry catches up. Harry inspects the box, eyebrows quirking and eyes narrowing; Barry manages to hold back a laugh.

“They have a lot of different toys and really, in theory, they can all be used on whatever body part you want to use them on. I was thinking you’d like the Zwei.”

Finally Harry’s eyes turn from the box to Barry, and the sharp blues eyes are bright with interest.

“All the toys in the Stronic line have pulsating technology so, basically, they thrust. All on their own.” Barry can feel his professionalism slipping, too excited and far too attracted to Harry to stick to his usual rehearsed dialogue. He’s just lucky he’s the only one on duty at the moment and that it’s slow enough for Barry to dedicate this time to Harry. “The Zwei is specifically for anal use, and has ten different thrusting settings.”

It’s also pretty pricey but Harry doesn’t bat an eye at that. He just nods and rather than follow Barry to the counter, he leads the way. Barry follows close at his heels, the fingers drumming on the box. Barry feels more and more anxious the longer Harry goes without speaking; it isn’t until Barry is telling him the total after tax that Harry pipes up.

“I trust your judgment, Barry.” Harry says slowly, eyes tracing the shape of the toy on the front of the box. “It might be a bit big though.”

Barry’s heart sinks instantly. Harry has already paid, the transaction is done and complete and they can’t do returns, refunds, or exchanges. “Oh, shit,” one more thread of professionalism undone but Barry doesn’t care. “I didn’t mean to, like, strong-arm you into it or anything.” Barry wracks his brain for how to reverse a transaction, how to fix this.

Harry is grinning and it takes Barry far too long to realize he isn’t angry or unsure. He’s flirting. “Perhaps,” Harry speaks once Barry has visibly calmed, “you could help me warm up?”

Barry’s brain short circuits but his mouth keeps working just fine. “I’m off at seven.”

Harry has slid a small piece of paper across the counter and is out the door with a wave before Barry’s brain comes back online. Barry waits until the door stops swinging and Harry’s car has definitely pulled out of the parking lot. Barry’s fingers shake as he reaches for the paper to flip it over. It’s a torn scrap, haphazard and barely big enough to fit the message it holds.

See you at 7:30.

Below that is an address.



The hours until his shift ends pass like molasses. When Taylor finally comes in, a little early even, Barry feels ready to jump out of his skin. It must be obvious, too, because before he can clock out Taylor pulls him aside. Their expression is serious and laced with light amusement. “If you two get together, you need to know two things. No, he doesn’t get your discount, and you can’t ring him up anymore.” The finger they wag is accusing and childish and it cracks Barry’s nerves just enough.

He nods jerkily, though, and the second Taylor isn’t gripping his arm, he’s out the door.



Barry plugs the address into his car’s GPS and it takes him to a simple suburban home in the quiet side of the city. It looks like Joe’s house or Barry’s childhood home. Simple, fairytale-esque, a soothing pale blue with darker blue trim—the house simultaneously makes perfect sense for a man like Harry and no sense at all. Barry parks his car in the driveway and by the time he’s on the porch steps, Harry has the door open.

Harry grins and it’s lazy and sated and Barry doesn’t need to be a genius to know Harry has probably already come once or twice. Harry reaches out, grabs his hand, and pulls him into the house. The door snaps shut behind them and Harry locks it before quickly facing Barry again. “I’m glad you decided to come.” Harry’s voice is smooth and Barry chokes on air; Harry is too calm a man to seem like the type to make an innuendo, and Barry suspects if they hadn’t met how they met, it probably wouldn’t seem so lewd.

“Same.” Barry gasps, belated.

Harry just looks amused and enticed. “There’s dinner in the kitchen if you want.” Harry tilts his head towards the room.

“I get the feeling I’m gonna need the energy.” Barry retorts and follows, waits and watches as Harry reheats a plate of food. The tension in the air thickens by the minute and Barry feels pleasantly suffocated by it. He takes the plate, sits at the table, tries to not eat like a rabid dog. Harry just sits on the dining room table and watches, his expression fond. “This is really good,” Barry mentions in between huge forkfuls of food.

Harry preens. “I’m glad you think so.”

Barry doesn’t make a quip about hoping he’ll get to try more of Harry’s cooking in the future—is that too forward? Is this going to be just sex, or…? Barry is afraid to ask so he doesn’t. He just eats faster. When his plate is empty, Harry is taking care of it before Barry can even attempt to help.

“TV?” Harry asks, already waltzing back to the living room.

Barry follows him again even though he isn’t sure he can take much more of the mounting tension. It’s been building since the first day in the shop and Barry knows they’re barreling toward a conclusion. His cock is half hard and the denim of his jeans feels far too constricting, too hot. All the same, Barry obeys and sits on the couch, tucked close to Harry.

Harry fiddles with the remote, decides on a channel, and falls silent. He doesn’t lean into Barry and it’s not exactly romantic, but it’s not a charged moment either. It’s easy and quiet. Even if the implication is clear, that sex is definitely going to be happening soon, for the time being the pressure lessens and Barry relaxes.

It’s as the tension drops out of his shoulders that Harry leans in. “Ready?” His voice is hushed for no reason other than it is apparently amusing. Harry is smirking and inching even closer.

Barry swallows his nerves. “Are you?” He counters as confidence surges through him.

Harry’s smirk stays firmly in place as he grabs Barry by the collar and pulls him in for a kiss. It’s open mouthed, no chaste beginning, and Harry’s tongue moves like he’s aiming to memorize every inch of Barry’s mouth. Barry groans helplessly into the kiss; he curls one hand around Harry’s hip, the other knots in his hair and pulls. They tumble backward on the couch, Barry’s body pressing Harry deep into the cushions. Never breaking the kiss they maneuver and rearrange until Barry is snug between Harry’s thighs and their hips are rolling together insistently.

Barry presses his hips forward especially hard and it yanks a desperate moan from Harry. Barry pulls back from the kiss and rolls his hips in the same way just to hear that sound again. Harry is gasping for air, the fast Barry ruts against him the faster the moans slip out. Harry’s fingers dig into Barry’s shoulders so hard it’s painful and sure to leave crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

Barry stops his motions—barely managing to ignore the groan of loss from Harry—to move back on the couch and work on removing their pants. Belts go first and are tossed somewhere in the room; Barry doesn’t move for his boxers yet, but Harry yanks his own off and drops them beside the couch. Barry doesn’t immediately move forward though, instead taking the time to drink in Harry’s appearance.

Barry’s gaze travels leisurely from the dusting of hair on Harry’s stomach to his cock, pink and straining, past his balls where there’s a flash of bright orange nestled lower. Barry’s breathing catches in his throat and he feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. When he finally drags his gaze back up to meet Harry’s, he looks pleased. “Have you been wearing that—?”

Harry hums and pretends to consider the question. “I might have had it in when I came in to buy from you today.” He admits, stretching his legs apart further so Barry can get a better look.

Barry wastes no time in reaching out and grabbing the flared base of the plug, the one he sold him, and starting to thrust. Harry makes the same moan as before and it makes sense to Barry now: Harry isn’t driven crazy by rutting together like teenagers; he’s driven crazy by being filled. Barry’s answering moan is strangled and low. He uses his free hand to pull Harry closer by the hips; Harry’s back and shoulders are pressed into the couch but his ass is angled up, now, legs curling over Barry’s shoulders, groin entirely on display.

Barry feels dizzy. Everything is moving so fast—but is it really? Can they really move that fast when they’ve been dancing around this for months and Barry has had far too intimate conversations about Harry’s masturbatory preferences? Barry feels shy and hesitant for an incredibly brief moment, then the feeling slides off him and he’s leaning forward, bending as far as he can to take Harry’s straining cock into his mouth.

Harry cries out and his hands fly back to grip the arm of the couch. Barry never stops thrusting the plug inside, times it with the bobbing of his head. The plug isn’t huge but it’s not small either; it’s a decent girth and length but Barry gets the distinct feeling that for Harry, it isn’t enough. Barry stops thrusting but leaves the plug inside and Harry’s noise of loss gets twice as loud when Barry pulls off his cock with an obscene slurping sound.

Barry grins and lets Harry’s hips sink. “I think we should move this to your bedroom.”

It takes a few moments for Harry to answer, and in those moments of silence Barry basks in pride at reducing him to incoherence. Harry sits up, looking ravished and a little ridiculous still wearing a black t-shirt. He nods. “C’mon.” He grabs Barry’s hand and pulls insistently. Barry admires the confidence in Harry’s steps, the lack of shame in his steps despite being entirely pantsless when Barry is still in his boxers.

The walk to Harry’s bedroom is short but tension mounts more and more with each step. All the thickness in the air that had faded as they kissed has returned in the time it takes them to move from the couch to the bed. Barry can’t help but notice the soft colorings of Harry’s room, neutral blues and grays. It’s understated but well put-together, much like Harry himself. Barry kind of loves it; he’s taking in more and more details of the room when his eyes land on the nightstand.

On the nightstand beside the bed, tucked alongside Harry’s lamp and alarm clock, is a wide array of sex toys. Barry immediately picks out the Zwei and the Duo, but there’s plenty more than Barry definitely didn’t sell Harry.

Harry seems to catch Barry’s wordless reaction and pulls him in for a kiss. Harry kisses slowly this time, and while still not chaste it’s not as frenzied as before. When their lips part with a wet smack, Harry speaks quietly. “Are you jealous that I’ve bought toys from people who aren’t you?”

Barry flushes bright pink but nods. “Kind of.”

Harry grins. “That’s sweet.” It’s more teasing than genuine, but not unkind. He strips off his shirt and tosses it half-heartedly toward the laundry basket nearby.

Barry rolls his eyes and steps closer to Harry, backing him up until they both fall onto the bed. “At least whoever did sell them to you had good taste.” Barry takes a moment to pull off his own pants and underwear before covering Harry’s boy with his own. Their hips slot together and Barry’s skin feels electric every time his cock brushes Harry’s.

Harry’s breathing hitches again when Barry slides a hand down to press at the plug again. He feels emboldened by the sound, by the desperate way Harry’s nails are biting into his skin. Barry leans in even closer and bites Harry’s ear before whispering to him.

“I want to suck you off. Then I’m going to grab the Tor and put it on you.” Barry murmurs, fingers pressing against the base of the plug rhythmically. “I’m going to get you hard again,” his face is burning red but Harry’s breathless reactions spur him on, “and eat you out, and when you’re ready for it I’m going to fuck you with the Zwei.”His voice stays heated but casual as he leans back. He reaches over and plucks the bottle of lube off the nightstand, then moves his attention to the bright orange plug still resting inside Harry.

Harry’s thighs tighten on Barry’s hips before they spread further. Barry works on slicking the plug up again while Harry talks. “When are you going to fuck me with your cock?” Harry asks though his attempt at being derisive is broken by the way he gasps between the words.

Barry grins and pulls back to yank off his own shirt. “After you’ve come again. Maybe three times.”

Harry freezes with no retort. When he looks at Barry, his eyes are open wide and dilated. His lips are parted and he’s still letting out hushed gasps. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Please do.” Barry kisses Harry briefly, licking the seam of his lips before pulling away. He moves down Harry’s body; he lets his fingertips trail along Harry’s sides and presses kisses to his chest, nipples, stomach and hips. By the time Barry’s lips are brushing along Harry’s cock, his chest is littered with love bites. Barry smirks. He makes sure his gaze is locked with Harry’s before running his tongue along the underside of Harry’s cock.

Harry’s back arches like a bow and one hand comes to fist in Barry’s hair. “Barry, please.” Harry hisses.

Barry can’t resist that tone—who is he kidding, he can’t resist anything about Harry—and wraps his lips around Harry’s cock obligingly. He presses his tongue into the slit and takes in the taste of precome, bitter and harsh, then sucks on just the swollen head. Harry’s hips twitch and push up minutely until Barry is laying an arm over Harry’s stomach to hold him still. He keeps his free hand curled around the base of the plug.

Barry pulls back from Harry’s cock and laps sloppily for a few moments until Harry’s hand tightens in Barry’s hair like a threat. Barry counters by pulling the plug almost entirely out of Harry before thrusting it back in. Harry’s back arches again but his hips don’t jerk up again, still held down by Barry’s arm. Barry decides to take pity on Harry and thrusts the plug in earnest. His rhythm isn’t especially fast or slow, just the right balance to be teasing with the promise of much more.

Barry licks in flat broad strokes along the veins in Harry’s prick; it’s messy and slick and Barry can feel precome smeared across his lips. When Harry’s moans change from strung out words to hitched, desperate, nonsensical groans, Barry starts to bob his head, finally taking Harry’s length into his mouth as best he can.

Barry closes his eyes and concentrates on letting go of tension in his body. He moans every time he lifts his head and takes Harry into his mouth further each time he bobs back down. Barry thrusts the plug in when he pulls back and slips it out when he sucks Harry down again. He can feel Harry’s thighs twitching and clenching; the bed rocks as Harry’s toes curl in the bed sheets and he locks one hand on the headboard.

“Barry—Barry, please.”

He doesn’t pull back to ask if Harry is close to the brink, instead he redoubles his efforts. He bobs his head faster but thrusts the plug slower and deeper. Under his arm, he can feel the muscles in Harry’s stomach tightening. Barry lets his fingertips brush the rim of Harry’s hole on each thrust in. He very nearly presses his fingers inside just to fill Harry even more, but saves the idea for later. Instead, he taunts Harry with the possibility. Each time his fingertips slip and touch the delicate skin, Harry’s whole body tenses in the best way.

Barry takes a deep breath through his nose before sinking his mouth entirely onto Harry’s cock. His nose is digging into Harry’s groin and he feels his lungs start to burn the longer he waits. The thickness of Harry in his mouth is distracting and makes it hard to keep breathing through his nose. He manages, barely, and swallows reflexively around the girth in his mouth. Harry’s hips jerk up again and Barry lets it happen. He lifts the weight of his arm just enough to let Harry’s hips start to roll.

The hand in Barry’s hair grips tighter to hold him still as Harry fucks into his mouth desperately. Harry grunts each time the head of his prick hits the back of Barry’s throat; every time Barry moans around his cock, Harry swallows a gasp. When Barry starts to thrust the plug again, Harry’s moan turn from nonsensical gasps to nothing but Barry’s name, over and over and over again.

“Barry, I’m—I’m close.” Harry warns as his thighs close around Barry’s shoulders. Barry doesn’t pull back from sucking at Harry’s prick, only redoubles his efforts and moves down until he has Harry entirely in his mouth. Harry shudders, rolling his hips even though he can’t possibly thrust any deeper into Barry’s mouth. His hand in Barry’s hair tightens and pulls and then Harry is coming; his release spills deep into Barry’s throat and Barry swallows so as not to lose a single drop.

Barry pulls back as Harry’s cock softens. He swallows once more before pulling back and grinning at Harry. He wastes no time in reaching over to the bedside table and grabbing the Tor—it’s a sleek, masculine cock ring. It’s not something Barry sold Harry, but Barry is the only one who gets to see it on Harry. After a quick nod from Harry, he slides the ring into place around the base Harry’s limp prick.

Barry takes in the sight of the deep green of the toy stark against the flushed pink skin of Harry’s cock. Barry sits back to drink in the image and doesn’t move again until Harry keens impatiently. Still grinning, Barry leans forward to kiss Harry; the kiss is deep and lewd and Barry knows Harry can taste himself on Barry’s tongue. When Barry finally breaks the kiss, there’s a string of spit still connecting their lips.

Harry stays loose and still as he lets Barry take charge and maneuver them. Barry turns him over to his elbows and knees, ass in the air and on display for Barry. As he peppers kisses to the base of Harry’s spine, Barry reaches around to turn the cock ring on to its lowest setting. The soft rumbling of the motors is drowned out by Harry’s own moan. Barry continues to kiss along Harry’s back, his ass, never getting quite close enough to where Harry wants him. When he pulls the slick plug out, Harry’s groan of loss fills the room.

Barry turns the ring to the second setting and starts to stroke Harry’s cock leisurely. He sucks a hickey onto one cheek of Harry’s ass and admires the blooming red mark. Harry shivers and buries his face in his arms, the action raising his ass higher and giving Barry better access. Barry takes the invitation, finally, and licks a broad, wet stripe across Harry’s stretched hole. The skin is soft against Barry’s tongue, clean but still tasting faintly of Harry’s personal musk. Barry pulls back to briefly command, “hold yourself open for me,” and waits for Harry to obey.

Harry stiffens but complies. He lowers himself onto the pillow, held up on his knees and shoulders, as he reaches back to spread his cheeks for Barry. As a reward, Barry turns the ring up another two levels and Harry’s swearing is muffled by the pillows. Barry is smirking when he brings his mouth back to Harry’s exposed hole.

Harry’s whole body jerks as Barry’s tongue slips inside him. It’s wet and hot and lewd, but Barry feels immediately addicted to the feeling of Harry clenching down on his tongue. As he licks deeper, Barry can feel the sheen of sweat coating Harry’s body smear onto his own skin. Barry keeps on hand wrapped possessively around Harry’s ankle, and the other trails teasingly along his skin toward his cock.

“B-Barry,” it’s almost a growl, mostly obscured by the pillow.

Barry pulls back, kissing the rim of Harry’s hole before raising his head. He traces the long lines of Harry’s body up to his face—a pinched, flushed expression of irritation and desire.

“Please.” Harry groans as he rolls his hips.

Barry obliges again. He dips down and slips two fingers into Harry alongside his tongue. He finally curls his hand around Harry’s neglected cock and strokes slowly. He moans against Harry’s skin and presses his fingers in deeper, curling them as they search for the spot that will make Harry scream.

The vibrations of the cock ring, still strong, are overwhelmed by Harry’s desperate gasps. The bed keeps rocking as Harry tries to thrust his hips between the sensations; he tries to fuck into Barry’s grasp and grind back against his mouth.

Barry sits back and licks his lips. He makes up for the loss of his tongue with a third finger, thrusting faster. “Good?” He asks, just to hear Harry struggle to answer.

He gets a whimper in response. He faintly hears the sound of a nod scraping against the fabric of the pillows.

“Let me hear you,” Barry commands in a softer voice. He presses his three fingers inside and lets his pinky finger tease the rim as well.

Harry cries out at the touch and his hips jerk back into Barry’s touch. “Please, Barry, fuck, please. Yes it’s good, give me more.” His voice is caught somewhere between a snarl and a plea and Barry feels drunk on the sound. “Barry!” Harry snaps again, fingers straining where they’re still holding his ass apart.

“On your elbows,” Barry says in a voice more confident than he really feels.

Harry’s arms drop to the bed again and he lifts himself up. He stares over his shoulder expectantly at Barry, mouth open and face bright red from all the teasing.

A million different things are burning through Barry’s mind as he slicks up his hand and Harry’s ass with more lube. Some things are sexy, a lot are cheeky, some are just off the wall in the way only he can be. Barry settles for not saying anything and instead just presses his four fingers slow and gentle inside Harry’s hole.

Harry’s breathe hitches again and he clenches around the fingers, drawing the further into his body. He tilts his head back and lets out a hiss of pleasure.

Barry watches his fingers sink inside Harry, enamored and fascinated and cock so hard it hurts. His dick is straining, precome beaded at the head and slicking his skin. A shudder runs through him at the thought of just skipping the rest of the toys and fucking Harry now. But there’s something enticing about dragging this out as long as possible and wringing as many orgasms from Harry as he can.

“Barry,” Harry’s voice draws his gaze, “as much as I appreciate you appreciating my ass, I’d be much happier if you got on with it.” His voice is sharp and unrelenting, and Barry shivers at the strength in his tone alone. Tonight may be about Barry taking Harry apart, but Barry is already looking forward to what Harry wants to do to him.

Barry thrusts his fingers faster; he barely pulls out before pressing in again and curling his fingers. Harry presses back against him with each movement and moans every time Barry’s fingertips brush his prostate. Barry quickens his grip around Harry’s cock, pausing only to push the cock ring into its fifth setting and earning a shout from Harry. Barry wraps his hand again around Harry’s cock and doesn’t falter in his pace, determined to overwhelm him in the best way.

Harry’s head drops to hang between his shoulders and his moans bounce off the bed.

“Are you close, Harry?” Barry asks, though it’s pretty obvious.

Harry doesn’t have a retort or quip to shoot back; instead, he only groans.

Barry smirks and leans forward, never stopping the movements of his hands, to pepper kisses along Harry’s back. He bites at his sides, hard enough to leave a mark before laving his tongue over the purpling marks. He revels in the feeling of Harry’s back twitching under his lips, the way his muscles move and writhe with pleasure.

“Will you come for me, Harry? Will you come again?” Barry’s hand slows to a torturous pace inside Harry and he lets his hand drop from gripping his cock. He instead switches the cock ring to the last, highest setting—a strong, rhythmic pulse around the base of Harry’s prick.

Harry’s lips curl as though he’s trying to speak, especially as he glares over his shoulder again right at Barry’s smug expression. No words come out, though, instead only raunchy, debauched moans, including Barry’s name.

“Come for me, Harry,” Barry says again as he presses a wet, open mouth kiss to the base of Harry’s spine.

Harry complies with a shout, “fuck, Barry!

His back arches against the pressure of Barry’s fingers inside him as his come splatters onto the bed beneath him. He shivers as Barry withdraws his fingers, and lets out a broken cry at the overstimulation still buzzing around the base of his cock. He shudders at the feeling, almost too good and definitely too much, and barely registers Barry turning him onto his back.

The fog of pleasure finally fades once Barry has turned off the cock ring and slipped it off Harry’s prick.

“You okay?” Barry asks in a hushed voice.

Harry stares up at him with his chest still rapidly heaving. He nods as he catches his breath.

Barry breaks into a grin, one far too innocent and sweet for everything happening here. “Good.” He says with a quiet chuckle. “Up for another round?”

Harry drags his eyes pointedly toward Barry’s own flushed and leaking cock. “You’re not leaving until you’ve fucked me.” Harry retorts with a firm tone. He sits up and reaches for Barry’s cock, twists his hand quick and teasing over the engorged flesh.

Barry’s eyes flutter shut and he pushes into the loose grasp. Rather than melting into the touch, Barry stays level-headed.

“Do I have to leave after that?” Barry asks in a voice strung out but direct. His face is pink with arousal and, Harry realizes maybe a little belatedly, nerves.

Harry pauses in his ministrations and moves closer to Barry. He raises the hand not slick with precome to cup Barry’s chin. He grins and presses a quick kiss to Barry’s slightly parted lips.

“You don’t have to leave at all if you don’t want to.” Harry murmurs. “There’s plenty I would like to do to you,” Harry tilts his head and is hardly subtly in the appreciation he has for Barry’s figure. “Besides,” Harry starts to trail kisses from Barry’s lips down his neck, “I’m told I make excellent pancakes.”

Barry’s gaze flickers to the alarm clock that’s still surrounded by a myriad of sex toys. Where it had before read sometime after eight o’clock when they first stumbled in here, it’s now creeping closer to ten o’clock. Barry snaps his head back to Harry when the other stops lavishing his skin with kisses.

“Hm?” Harry prompts as his hand returns to Barry’s still hard cock.

Barry just nods as his body startles at the touch. “Definitely staying. For the night. And for breakfast.” He’s still nodding when he pushes Harry to lie down again and slots their bodies together once more.

He dives for Harry’s mouth and kisses him, hungry and deep. He tangles one hand in the pile of fluff atop the Harry’s head and the other reaches toward the nightstand again. He grasps the cornflower blue toy and settles it on the bed beside Harry’s hip. “Ready keep going?”

Harry groans. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he remarks with a grin.

“What a way to go,” Barry replies, pushing Harry’s legs apart. He slips his fingers inside Harry again, just for good measure, just to make sure the muscles yield to his touch and that there’s no tension lingering. He pulls back when he’s satisfied and slicks up the toy with lube. He pauses. “Pass me a pillow.”

Harry throws it at him just to be childish, and is rewarded with a soft slap of it hitting Barry square in the chest. Barry just rolls his eyes rather than retort. He situates the pillow between Harry’s spread legs and ignores the look of confusion it gets him. Barry teases the rim of Harry’s hole with two fingers, then lines up the bulbous head of the toy against the puckered skin.

He flicks his gaze back to Harry’s face for a split second and doesn’t continue until he gets a nod from Harry.

Barry presses the toy into Harry slowly, hands slippery from the perhaps ridiculous amount of lube smeared around them. It’s clinging to Harry’s thighs and drips onto the bed and pillow. It’s worth it though for the way the toy glides into Harry’s body.

Harry tenses, his toes curl, his eyes slam shut every few inches, but his moans are breathy and pleased. When the thick bump in the middle of the toy starts to breach, Harry clenches and Barry freezes in his movements.

He waits until, eventually, Harry nods again, gesturing for him to continue.

Barry does, but he requests, “talk to me, Harry.”

“It’s… thick.” He says, the slightest hint of humor coloring his tone. “It’s good, though. I can take it,” Harry’s eyes open again and his pupils are dilated. “Give it to me, Barry.” He demands.

This time it’s Barry who nods.

He pushes the toy, still slow and still careful, inch by inch inside Harry. Once the middle hump of the toy sinks into him, Harry lets out a breathless moan and his hole clenches around the thinner part of the toy.

Barry sits back and waits, giving Harry time to adjust. Barry snags his shirt from the floor and wipes his hands clean, wipes off Harry’s thighs and the handle of the toy. He teases the stretched skin, where that soft blue meets flushed red, and relishes the gasp it draws from Harry.

Barry waits until Harry reaching for him, mumbling insistently, to turn the toy on. It comes to life on the middle setting—one that’s rumbling and strong but not overwhelming. All the same, it has Harry curling forward as though he’s been punched in the gut. He looks at Barry with wide eyes and a slack mouth, as though he can’t believe what he’s feeling.

Barry just snickers. “Right?” He doesn’t have one of his own, but he’s read the reviews and seen videos of them in action. “Tell me how it feels,” Barry requests before turning it one level higher, louder, stronger.

Harry falls back onto the bed, squirming. “So full,” he gasps with his hands tangled in the sheets. “It’s almost too much.” He speaks through gritted teeth though his composure slips every time that thrusting sensation seems especially strong.

“It’s weird,” he continues with a shaking tone. “It feels like it’s vibrating but also,” he draws in a sharp breath and rolls his hips slowly with the motion, “also like it’s thrusting.”

Barry looms over Harry, fingertips still resting over the buttons to adjust the settings. “Yeah?”

“It’s good—amazing—it’s so much.” Harry caves and brings a hand to his prick; the action grounds him, counters the almost-overwhelming feeling inside him with something easier. Harry reaches his other hand out to grip the back of Barry’s neck. “Come here,” Harry demands.

Barry falls forward to kiss Harry again. He bites at Harry’s lip and swallows the gasp he gets in return. He seals his lips over Harry’s and licks into his mouth. He sucks on Harry’s tongue in the same moment he turns the Zwei up another setting. Harry’s hand around his neck tangles in his hair and pushes him closer.

Barry pulls back to watch the way Harry’s hips move, trying to get the most out of fucking into his hand and the toy in his ass. He grins, distracted, until Harry’s free hand palms his cock. Barry immediately ruts into the touch and locks eyes with Harry.

“I don’t think you’ll be fucking me tonight, Barry,” Harry says with a teasing pout. “I’d hate for you to be stuck like that,” he flicks his eyes to Barry’s dick again, “all night.”

Barry shivers.

“Come here,” Harry commands.

Barry shuffles up the bed while Harry sits up on one elbow. It brings his mouth level to Barry’s cock, and his hot breath is nearly enough to tip Barry over the edge then and there. Barry, distantly, isn’t sure how he’s lasted this long. Staying focused on getting Harry to come, twice, kept him distracted enough from his own erection. Now, though, he’s so hard it nearly hurts and he’s so desperate to come practically anything could set him off.

Harry’s lips slide over the head of Barry’s cock and suck, lewd, slurping on the taste of precome. Barry barely keeps himself from thrusting into the wet heat of Harry’s mouth, and instead closes his eyes to think of anything that’ll keep him from coming instantly.

It’s no use, he fast realizes. His eyes are drawn to every inch of Harry’s body and the sight of it all is muddling Barry’s brain. The way Harry’s hips are fucking into his own grasp, the quick flashes of soft blue Barry catches as Harry rhythmically clenches around the toy, drawing it deeper and letting it slip out just barely, over and over. Harry’s slick, bright pink lips gliding around the girth of Barry’s cock—it’s quickly becoming too much.

Knotting a hand in Harry’s hair, Barry tells him so.

“I’m—Harry, I’m so close, fuck, fuck.” He presses his hips forward just a little, just to feel Harry swallow around him and moan. “I’m going to come, Harry b-but—fuck.” Barry pinches himself as though that will ground him long enough. “I want you to come, too. One more time for me.”

Harry nods, sort of, hard to do when his lips are insistently secured around Barry’s prick. It’s as good an answer he thinks he’ll get, so Barry stops trying to hold back. He thrusts his hips and groans when Harry bobs his head to meet every thrust. He yelps, some mix of a curse, a praise, and Harry’s name every time Harry swallows around him.

Barry looks down with heavy lidded eyes; he admires the way his precome is slick on Harry’s lips, mingling with sweat and spit. He admires the view of his cock slipping into Harry’s mouth, a sense of vain pride tugging at him. He’s never been one enamored with his own appearance but watching Harry suck his cock is a power trip, sends Barry’s senses reeling.

He tightens his grip in Harry’s hair and pulls. “I’m so close, Harry, m’gonna come.” He warns.

Harry’s whole body tenses and he comes, a long drawn out moan vibrating around Barry’s dick. Harry writhes with pleasure as his come spills over his stomach and hand and keeps moaning around the weight in his mouth, sending ripples of pleasure through Barry’s body.

Barry thrusts forward especially quick and hard, too fast, too deep, and Harry pulls back to gasp for air. His head lands against the pillow and it’s that—the debauched look, spit-slick lips and hair a sprawling mess, the glimpse of come that splattered onto his pecs when Harry came—that tips Barry over the edge.

Barry grips his cock and he’s coming in hot pulses across Harry’s face, catching him on the lips and cheek. Barry groans when Harry’s mouth drops open to catch another streak of come, a smirk curling at Harry’s expression. Barry shudders and strokes himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm, watching as a final spurt of come lands on Harry’s neck.

Neither moves right away; their gazes stay locked until Harry reaches his tongue out to lick at a stray spot of come on his face, and Barry leans in to help clean up. He kisses Harry, then licks at his sweat-salted skin, gathers his own come in his mouth and kisses Harry again. It mingles with the spit in their mouths and it’s faintly gross, but Harry chases the taste in Barry’s mouth eagerly.

They keep kissing as their orgasms fade and their bodies relax. Barry sinks to lie beside Harry and pulls the toy from his ass gently, setting it aside and tugging Harry closer.

Harry breaks the silence after a few minutes. “We have a lot of cleaning to do.” He points to the come that’s dried on his chest, the lube still sticky on the bedsheets, the toys around them.

Barry sighs and bats his eyes at Harry. “I’ll do it all in the morning?” He tries, a sheepish grin accompanying his puppy-dog stare.

It’s unsuccessful if the way Harry sits up is any indication. “I’m not sleeping on these sheets all night.” He swings his legs around to the edge of the bed and stands, stretching, before gathering up the toys.

Barry obediently follows suit, stripping the bed of its sheets and the pillows of their cases before following Harry through the house. They’re both stark naked and there’s a thrill burning in Barry’s gut at the thought. It’s easy to transition to this—not everything bubbling between them is sex, and that’s a reassurance Barry didn’t know he needed.

He stands patiently still as Harry loads up the washer with the bedclothes. He lets himself be cornered against the dryer after the washer starts to hum.

Barry rests his hands on Harry’s hips and shivers when Harry teases his nipples. “Harry,” it’s a half-hearted warning, one said with no real heat or promise. Barry could get hard again pretty easily, could definitely get hard for Harry, but he also feels bone-tired from the hours of lavishing attention on Harry.

“It’s late,” Harry agrees though Barry didn’t really say anything. Harry links their fingers together and guides him back to the bedroom. “We can shower in the morning,” Harry concedes as he pushes Harry to the bed. “I’m going to clean up a little, then I’ll be back.”

Barry stands beside the bed, listens for the telltale sound of a faucet running for a brief moment. There’s a beat of silence, then Harry is returning with his arms full of clean sheets, presumably from the hall closet.

Barry helps stretch the sheets over the bed before clambering in, sleep already pulling at him. He opens his arms and is pleased when Harry settles into his grasp. He kisses the back of Harry’s neck and speaks against the cooled skin. “You realize we can never tell anyone how we really got together.” Barry fully intends to say they met at his work and leave it at that. There’s something just almost too ridiculous, too private about saying they met at a sex shop, over discussions of masturbation.

Harry scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. We have an excellent story, and I intend to tell it to as many people who care to listen as possible.”

Barry laughs and presses his forehead to Harry’s shoulder. “My dad is gonna freak out. Not, like, in a bad way but—it’s gonna happen.”

Harry reaches up to comb a soothing hand through Barry’s hair.

“Because of how we met? Or my age?” Harry asks.

Barry shrugs and it jostles them both.

“Does that bother you?” Harry prods, looking over his shoulder at Barry.

“Not totally? It’s just… gonna be weird for a while.” Barry’s grip around Harry tightens. “That’s okay, though. I can live with weird. Weird is good. Weird is awesome.” Barry is fast to assure, both himself and Harry.

Harry rolls until he and Barry are chest to chest. He raises his arms and loops them across Barry’s shoulders.


“Yeah?” Barry asks softly. The nerves that had begun to burn in Barry’s chest calm a bit at Harry’s voice. He’s still sort of worried over where this is going—it may not be just sex, but Barry falls fast and hard and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Harry isn’t okay with that.

Not to mention he and Harry don’t know all that much about one another; Harry knows about his thesis and Barry knows about his wife an daughter, but beyond that there’s so much still to learn. Barry has this nagging feeling that everything has happened out of order, and he can’t place whether that’s a good thing or not.

Joe will definitely freak out, as will Cisco and Iris and Caitlin. Granted, his friends will be a little more understanding, but they’ll poke endless fun at him and probably feel the need to give Harry a shovel-talk of sorts.

“Go to sleep,” Harry whispers against Barry’s lips, cutting through the worries buzzing in his head. “We can talk about this all in the morning.” Harry’s smile is tired and small and just for Barry.

Barry, though his heart still feels like it’s going a mile a minute, matches the expression. “Okay.” He agrees.

They fall asleep kissing, languid and unhurried and easy.