Work Text:
my baby's sweet as can be
she gives me toothaches just from kissin' me
“So!” Cisco says, incredibly loudly, staring at the ceiling, “how’s it going? How are you guys? How’s the weather? How’s that table over there? HOW ABOUT THEM SOXS–”
“You can look now,” says Iris grumpily, doing up the last of her buttons. “Honestly.”
“Dude, could you possibly have worse timing,” Barry grumbles, making an attempt to look as if his jeans were not, in fact, incredibly, indecently rumpled. And he was shirtless. As in, no shirt. At all. God, he looked good.
Cisco refuses to drag his eyes from the ceiling, either appealing to God or Rube Goldberg, who could say. “Dude, could you possibly find a better place to get laid than in my workroom???”
“You were gone!” says Barry indignantly, trying to get his shirt back on, Iris mourns. Inwardly.Very inwardly. “You and Caitlin were both out and I just got back from patrolling and Iris was here and I just defeated Snart again, so he could go suck it –”
“Not before I do,” Iris mutters and Barry blushes beautifully, all soft freckled skin flushing like a ripe peach, Iris wants to feel that blush under her mouth, and Cisco makes a noise like a stepped on mouse.
“Oh god why,” Cisco says, clutching at his hair, somewhat melodramatically.
“I don’t think you have any room to criticize,” Iris says with all the dignity she could muster, given the fact Cisco knows what color her bra is now. “Seeing as how you and Caitlin–”
Barry’s eyebrows shoot straight up. “Wait, you and Caitlin–”
“It wasn’t in my workroom!” Cisco shouts, now almost a match for Barry’s blush.
“No, it was on the Cortex computers,” Iris shoots back and Barry half yelps, “Dude!” in equal parts amazement, admiration (boys) and indignation. “And you’re getting on my case–”
“The only person getting on you in the near or distant future is me,” Iris says and Barry makes an inarticulate sound of astonishment and awe.
Cisco waves his arms around wildly. “Will ya’ll please take this elsewhere–”
There is a rush of wind and the scenery blurs around Iris as she feels herself being scooped up. In the next blink, they’re in her apartment, in her bedroom and Barry’s mouth is back on hers, where it belongs, where it should never, ever leave.
Some time later (who really knows), Iris rolls over, throws one leg over Barry’s hip with casual possessiveness and lightly scrapes her nails over the skin of his collarbone, where a bite mark of hers is already fading. Barry, his face half-buried in the pillows, lets out a little moan of protest. “Give me like, ten minutes,” he says, somewhat muffled. “And I’ll be good to go.”
“Ten? Really?” Iris asks, fascinated. “Last time, it was only five.”
“That was the second round,” Barry informs her, one hand creeping over her leg, drawing her closer to him, despite his protests of needing ten more minutes. “This’ll be the fourth.”
Iris sighs contentedly, letting herself be pulled towards the warmth and strength of him, marveling privately at how easy this feels. “We didn’t knock anything over in Cisco’s lab, did we?”
“I can’t remember,” Barry says, hands already starting to wander, ten more minutes her ass. “I don’t think so. We’ll make it up to him.”
“Find another abandoned closet,” Iris suggests.
“Uh-huh,” Barry agrees distractedly, and pulls Iris on top of him. She settles herself sitting upright, knees on either side of his hips, and he’s looking up at her like she’s the Speed Force, like she’s physics unraveled, like lightning coming down. “We’ll think of something.”