by Livia and Te
December 2, 2003
Disclaimers: Not ours in the least.
Spoilers: Vague ones for "Fury," "The Brave and the Bold," and "Hearts and Minds."
Summary: Actions and consequences.
Ratings Note: NC-17. So NC-17.
Authors' Note: Livia got kinky. Te lost her sh*t. Porn ensued.
Acknowledgments: To Jack, Sarah, and Lyra for encouragement and suggestions.
Feedback: Sir, yes, sir! email@example.com, firstname.lastname@example.org
Wally is more fidgety than usual after the fight goes down, but it's not his fault. Stupid... stupid monkey. How fair is it that Batman's arch-enemy is some hot chick with a whip, Wonder Woman's is this nine foot tall blonde who could probably wrestle Xena to a draw (and love every minute of it), and Flash gets... a four hundred pound gorilla.
It's just not cool.
"Where the hell --" He hears GL's cranky voice from across the high-ceilinged hall and slows down with an effort. "-- oh, there. Flash, could you try to stay in the same zip code for a second here!"
Flash makes an apologetic face, but at this point, he's totally willing to let GL be the one who explains to the in-charge type people why the new anthropology exhibit at the Central City Museum of Science and Industry is. Um.
It's not his fault! It's really not. Who knew Grodd would come straight for him after escaping from gorilla jail? Like 'Homeward Bound.' Except with a gorilla.
And psychotic revenge.
Wally jitters a little in place for at least a whole second. Gets another glare from GL, who beckons him over to explain something or probably just smile at a peeved-looking lady with a museum badge. "Erm." He does a couple laps around the museum to cool off, then heads over to GL's side and sticks out his hand. "Sorry about the exhibits. But hey, at least no one got hurt! That wasn't animatronic. Heh."
The museum lady gives him a look.
He smiles weakly, trying to will her to ignore the little white hairs all over his costume. No matter how many he picks off he looks like he's been wrestling Aunt Iris' Persian cat Ebbie and that is just.
So very not cool.
Stupid gorilla nemesis.
They're parked out back in a loading bay. Wally zips down the concrete ramp to the Javelin and then back to John's side and then back to the Javelin and then back over to John and the man is walking that slowly just to drive him insane.
"Come on already! Can we go?"
He sees John roll his eyes to the sky. "What is your hurry?"
"I wanna hit the showers, okay? I smell like I've been wrestling a gorilla!"
"Well, you have been."
"You have been," Wally mimics, trying really hard not to literally jump up and down impatiently.
"I swear to God," GL grunts. "One of these days I'm gonna get you one of those kid leashes. At least we'd know where you are."
Which stops Wally still. In his tracks and.
Okay, for Wally?
'Think before you speak' is a lofty but impossible ideal that has absolutely no practical application whatsoever to, well, actual life. Kind of like 'eat the right amount of vegetables' and 'pay the electricity bill on time.'
When the man sets himself up like that -- well, how can Wally not? And he's got his arm around GL's shoulders just that fast, and he leans in, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. "Kinky!!"
"You, me, a leash? John, you kinky son of a bitch! I had no idea!" And no one's around, so Wally grabs his ass just to feel him jump. Ah, John. Best uptight, boring-movie-loving, Wally's-sense-of-humor-not-appreciating boyfriend ever.
John shoulders out from under his arm, stalking just that little bit faster towards the Javelin. "We're in public."
A leash. John Stewart, Master of Pain! Wally's about a millisecond away from rolling around on the ground giggling. "Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't tease. I know the kink is not your thing. Hey, you thing maybe sometime we could do it with the lights on?"
And John swings around and stares at him and Wally thinks to himself, okay, let's review. I whined, and then I teased, and then oh crap did I just make fun of how John is in bed?
John looks at him for a long, long second, and Wally is miserably aware that one of his lightning bolts got bent in the fight and it makes him kinda look stupid and demented. Also, he smells like monkey.
"You wanna go get fries or something?" Wally blurts. "My treat, we can go wherever --"
"Okay," John mutters, but quietly, more like he's talking to himself than responding to whatever Wally's saying. And... fries? Okay, John's maybe better off talking to himself at this point. Wally quietly picks monkey hair off his sleeve.
John looks at the Javelin, then back at Wally, then points his ring at the ground. One of those green force bubbles appears around them, lifting John and Wally, zipping them up and over the museum and really, really high up in the sky and Wally stares at John. "What are you --"
Don't talk. Wally can do that.
He is a superhero, after all.
They don't run into John's scary landlady on the way in from the rooftop entrance, for which Wally is truly grateful. So now they're in John's apartment and god, Wally will never get over this place. The way it illustrates really clearly that Wally is having a (kinda sorta) relationship with, well. An adult. Someone who has furniture that matches. And... stuff.
John hasn't said anything since Central City. He doesn't say anything now, either, just locks the door behind them both.
John gives Wally a half-amused look, and Wally shuts up. He can too.
Even when John takes him by the arm and steers him through the place, over to the stairs next to the kitchen.
There's a closet under the stairs, and Wally's brain starts tripping switches and flashing crazy mental images as John reaches for the doorknob. What's in there, a Little Bo Peep costume? A branding iron? Stuffed animals? John's gonna hang him upside down from the gymnast rings in the corner and spank him with --
A winter coat? A couple of old appliance boxes?
Okay, even John's closet is neat, which is somehow not surprising.
Also? Not full of kinky sex toys.
It just takes a second for John to push the closet door all the way open and turn around. Wally pastes a nonchalant look on his face and tries really hard not to look like he was expecting kinky sex toys.
"What?!" John says, annoyed.
John doesn't even have to roll his eyes this time. He circles back around Wally. Puts an arm around his waist, the other around his chest, and just... smiles. Wally can see them both in the long, tall mirror on the inside of the closet door, and oh, okay, mirror. There we go.
GL wants a little show. Sure, okay. Wally can do that --
And then there's a sudden flare of light, and he startles, but John holds him steady as the blur of green sweeps over his body. He blinks and...
At first Wally thinks he's gone invisible because he can't see himself, but then he sees.
He's wearing a Green Lantern uniform.
He stares at himself in the mirror. Wriggles his shoulders a little. The bodysuit feels thicker than he's used to, a little rougher, the material making skritchy Kevlar noises when he moves his arms. The boots are heavier. He looks down, flexing his hands, noting the green armbands -- not tight so much as snug -- around his wrists and upper arms.
And a little pointy mask, just enough to cover his nose and make him really aware of his eyes. Like the one Kyle used to wear.
"I told Kyle that one time --" Wally begins, and then falters, because he really doesn't have anything to say, and also? John is touching his face.
Touching his hair.
Smoothing his bangs back from his face, up off his forehead. And now he looks like a total dork. Or like a real Green Lantern. Almost. Kinda.
"So..." Wally says, looking at himself in the mirror. Number one on the list of Things To Not Say is 'Does this make my ass look fat?' Number two is 'Tell me I'm not wearing your underwear right now." Number three --
"Now," John says, voice a low rumble in his ear, "drop and give me twenty."
Wally stares, and John laughs, just a slow hot breath on his newly-exposed ear. Wally twitches.
John presses his mouth to Wally's neck, eyes closed and... something like amusement tugging his mouth into a smile. "It's okay. I'm kidding."
Wally shakes, not sure whether to laugh or yell. Turns out of GL's arms and backs up, jumping when he hits the mirror and makes it rattle. "No you're not! You're totally not kidding! Oh my God, man, okay, I admit it, I wasn't giving you enough credit. You. Man. You are..."
John just looks at him in a way that says, very clearly, 'I hear talking but I don't see pushups.'
For a guy who sometimes seems to have fewer facial expressions than Batman, John has some really eloquent looks.
Okay. Wally shakes out his arms a little, then heads out from under the stairs into the middle of the room, into the space between the red couch and the kitchen.
"Nice and slow," John says, and now he's using the sex voice, which is just not fair, and Wally can already see how this is going to be a lot different from gym class in high school.
Okay, somewhat different.
"Let me see you work for it."
And John is having fun with this. And. Okay.
Wally likes fun.
He assumes the position. Shows off a little, pushing himself up and clapping his hands in the air, then catching himself again. He keeps startling himself with this crazy Green Lantern uniform thing. His hands are still his hands, but they don't look like his.
He starts doing pushups.
And the strange bodysuit is just rubbing him wrong -- well, not really wrong but just weird. He's really aware of his body -- the way his feet and hands are kind of weighted down by the GL-issue boots and gauntlets. The way he's naked under the suit in the way that stopped mattering for his reds years ago.
And John is crouching down right in front of him, and every time Wally gets to the top of a pushup, John is right there, and John's crotch is right there, kind of like an incentive, and yeah, okay.
Three pushups and Wally's starting to sweat.
John just watches him, and Wally does it like he said, nice and slow. He wonders how much John can see of his eyes through this mask.
He wonders if John's gonna make him run laps next. Do pull-ups. Maybe they're gonna snap towels at each other in the bathroom. Which would be cool, since Wally rules at that game. And now he's wondering if that Bubble-Yum-colored Lantern in the metal bikini did this to John when he was just a raw recruit, and that is a nice mental image that gives his next couple of pushups a little extra oomph.
"What are you thinking?" John reaches out and carefully pushes a loose strand of hair behind his ear, his hand following Wally's face as Wally lowers himself almost to the rug, then pushes himself up again.
"Well, I, I'm thinking gym class would have been more interesting if you'd been my coach, and I'm thinking I can't believe I'm rock hard for push-ups, I mean, God --"
John straightens up so fast Wally thinks he said something wrong, but he knows the difference between Angry GL and Curt GL and Angry But Trying To Sound Curt GL and it's only curt when John orders him, "Count off."
"Mmph," Wally says, and pushes himself upright again. "...twenty-nine."
John's boot settles lightly between his shoulder blades.
And presses down. Wally locks his arms, and John pushes harder, leaning on him.
"Eleven!" Wally gasps, and John lifts his foot away. Wally dips down, pushes himself up again, still feeling the boot-print on his back, still slack-jawed that John did that. "Twelve."
And John drops down to straddle him, one knee down and one boot planted by Wally's thigh, leaning forward to brush gloved hands over Wally's shoulders. Not pushing him now, just... feeling him. Feeling him work for it.
Wally's ass is not quite brushing against John's thigh with every stroke. He pushes harder. "Fourteen. Fifteen."
John's fingers brush softly over the back of his neck, at the tiny little patch of skin revealed after the high collar ends.
Leans forward even more, hand tightening on Wally's shoulder. Moving with him as Wally moves. And he just breathes on that spot, and Wally shivers hard.
"John I'm s-seriously. Um." And it's like John's riding him, and Wally can't help but arch up against his long, hard body. The uniforms purr as they slide against each other, and John makes an amused sound, tongue flickering wet over the back of Wally's neck. Just tasting him. "Oh fuck I'm gonna come in your spare fucking uniform, John--"
And John makes a noise that might be amusement and might be doom and there's another green flare and Wally's...
All new sensations now everywhere, his toes twisting in the rug and goosebumps up and down his arms and John is so fucking hot behind him.
And Wally's still wearing the little mask.
He's not sure if John forgot to get rid of it, or if it's just the cherry on the kink sundae, and now John is licking his back, licking his back and "Man, I can't --"
"Don't stop." And John knows what he needs, he just knows, and he lowers himself down and now Wally is pressing up against him with every stroke, grinding his naked ass against John's still-clothed crotch, rubbing up against his thigh.
"Oh yeah --"
And John just laughs against his skin, and that's good, too, because. John. John and him. And... push-ups.
And then John sort of eases his way back, and strokes Wally's naked, naked skin. All big, warm, callused hands. Possessive hands.
"I think that was twenty."
"I kinda got distracted!" And okay that was more whiny than sexy, but they are going to have sex sometime today, right? Actual sex? This is just the kinky foreplay. Right?
And Wally thinks he's finally understanding, really understanding the word 'kinky.'
Because John's still stroking him, in an almost clinical way. Rubbing his shoulders, fingers pushing in. Hands slipping down to his waist like he's testing for the best grip. Obviously cataloguing every muscle.
No one makes him feel as hot as John does. John makes him think... makes him look in the mirror and blink because sometimes he can see it in himself.
What makes him just that sexy. (Fuckable.)
So sexy that John has him acting out his bizarre little fantasies. Because that turns him on. And he could laugh about it -- and he will -- but not now. Because John's moving on him, sliding back and down and making Wally's ass very unhappy until that mouth is on him again.
"You said twenty --" Wally protests, pushing himself up again, and he's really sweating now, feeling the burn in his arms and legs. In the backs of his knees. In the way every muscle in his body is telling him how good it would feel to just let go.
"You can do more than that." John says calmly against his skin, scraping his teeth across the base of Wally's spine. And laughing just makes Wally harder, and then he's just moaning, because John bites a perfectly straight line up the middle of his back. Probably straighter than his spine, and his cock is spitting pre-come and his balls are pulling up tight.
"All right, okay, keep doing what you're -- ah, Jesus, John --"
Yeah. Biting his neck. Latched on and not letting go. Jesus God. One hand sliding around to stroke his cock and the other between his legs, cupping and rolling his balls.
"Really gonna make me come now --"
"Fuck fucking order-giving bastard --" Wally spits, too breathless to laugh now. "You know, John... if this is just your way... of trying to tire me out before the main event. So that we can, you know. Start on even ground..."
John's teeth tighten on his neck. His grip on Wally's balls is... firm. That's a good word for it. Wally freezes at the top of his million and eleventh push-up.
"Then I would say that's completely ridiculous 'cause you don't need to, you don't need to do that at all, can we just fucking fuck oh man, John --"
John pulls back. Actually stands up and Wally absolutely doesn't whine, even though John's apartment is kinda uncomfortably cool now.
One of John's hands settles around his ankle. "Hey, hotshot."
And he's really going to have to get someone to check and see that this isn't an evil John from an alternate universe, because John actually traces a line up the sole of Wally's foot before settling down next to him. "Count."
Uh. Wally does another push-up. "Fifty... six?"
"Nope." And John is petting him, prodding at the muscles of his back, and then that strong hand slips back down to Wally's ass and Wally hears himself make a sound like he's been gut-punched. "Start over."
Except if gut-punches felt like that the world would be a much more violent place and maybe that explained Hawkgirl but also -- "Oh my fucking god."
Thumb, just John's thumb, almost-slick-enough with sweat, with the fact that his body is getting really fucking used to John in the best ways.
Sliding in, opening him up, and John is kneeling next to him, so close, his other fist tight around the root of Wally's cock and God, Wally's arms are shaking.
It doesn't matter that it's just push-ups. That he is, technically, a superhero. He can't do this. Sweat is stinging his eyes, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and if he shakes his head, he'll fall over.
"John please --"
Hears himself whimper but goes for it. "One." Another. "Two." And then it doesn't matter that he can't keep count, because god, he can't make words anymore.
He goes down, feeling his muscles strain, and yeah, he's just making noises, needy noises, fuck me noises, and John hears him, Wally knows he hears him, because that thumb is fucking him now.
Up, and even his toes feel hard, feel like they want to be sucked and stroked and bitten and --
Bright green flare and then nothing, and he seizes up all over because he can't see, can't -- Oh. John's blacked out the mask and oh fuck that just makes it hotter.
Not that he could see much before except John's ugly Pier One rug but now he can't see anything at all and it's --
It's not about the ring. Because even though God knows Wally has fantasized and fantasized about what that ring could do for his sex life, it's just a tool. A tool in the hands of a man, and it's John that's doing it, John's will, John, and just the fact that he wants to -- and that's it, no more. His knees drop and spread and Wally braces himself on his elbows and begs.
"Come on. John--"
And there's a hard squeeze to his cock and John slips his thumb out and for a second Wally thinks he just lost the fucking game, but then there are slick noises and John grunts, spreads him, and pushes in.
One long, hot slide that has Wally clawing at the rug, rucking it up under his hands, has him almost wailing. Not because it's that good -- even though it is -- but because he was starting to think he wouldn't get this.
He's never going to make fun of John again. Never ever ever. Wait, no. He's going to make fun of John a lot. Because John is evil. And John has him by the hips, has him right where he wants him, has him.
And something about not being able to see... He knows where he is, and he knows where John is, but he can just.
He can feel everything.
The watery-good vibration of his muscles. The spit and sweat cooling on his skin. Every bite mark.
Every suck mark.
And the nothing is developing spots and stars, but it takes a while to figure out that it's just because he's squeezing his eyes shut, but he has to. Just like he has to work his hips in the tiny, grinding little jerks that John's allowing him and "Faster please --"
One hand back on his neck, pushing his head down. The other one leaving bruises on his hip, and oh God the sounds. Skin slapping against skin and these chuffed out little pants that mean John's going for it. Doing him.
Working him right into the rug, and this is gonna sting in the morning but right now it's just hot.
Hand sliding around his neck, friendly little squeeze that makes him jerk and vibrate when John lets go, and then that hand is down, down, back around his cock and --
White out flash, and John's voice might as well be connected to his cock, John's dick might as well be the sex toy of the gods.
John might just be perfect.
And the white goes black again and Wally comes so hard it hurts, squeezing John in and screaming and John's fucking roaring and it makes his cock twitch again and this is exactly how he wants to die.
Naked and coming and sweating, probably needling holes through the rug with his fingers, and a giant kinky man fucking him through the floor and making him like it.
Wally laughs so hard he chokes, reaching back with a shaky hand for John's hip and urging him faster, harder, more. "C'mon, do it, come in my ass, man, you --"
And the next thrust rattles his teeth, and the next moves them again, and the next makes him bite his tongue, and the next -- sunlight. Light. Mask gone. John's not concentrating anymore.
John's not doing anything but pounding him into a brand new shape.
Low, ripping growl, and Wally's going to be hard again in about fifteen seconds. He pushes himself back up and slams back against John, catching his rhythm and urging it faster, faster.
His arms are shaking even more now, but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters but just this, right here. John's rhythm going ragged and utterly brutal.
John hauling him up and spreading him over his lap and Wally's not so much riding him as he's shaking and clutching and yeah this 'tire Flash out' thing might not be such a bad plan. He shakes, throwing his head back onto John's shoulder. Half-catching that snarling mouth in a raw kiss, rubbing come into his own skin and John whimpers broken and deadly into his mouth.
Comes, squeezing Wally so hard he feels his ribs creak.
Gradually, slowly eases off the pressure.
Wally exhales. Shudders once, all over.
John's hands slide up Wally's arms. Down again. Soothing him, or maybe himself. "My. God."
"Yeah, John. I. Jesus."
Cut-off chuckle and John's petting him, yeah, but he's also very clearly checking him out. "You --"
"I'm fine." Wally grins and flexes for emphasis, getting a gasp.
"Mm. Yeah, you are." Slow, thorough stroke over his spread thighs, and then John slumps a bit against the back of the couch, pulling Wally with him. His hands find a place on Wally's wrists, and Wally closes his eyes slowly as John's hands tighten, the bump of Wally's wrist-bones fitting nicely into the palm of John's hand.
"Hmm-hm," Wally says, drawing the moment out. Just luxuriating in the rarity of a second where there's nothing he has to do, nowhere he has to go. "Hey, GL." He grins at the high wooden rafters. "Ask me if it was good for me."
A pause he can feel.
"Was it good for you, hotshot?"
"Sir, yes, SIR!"
John's arms go around him again.
John squeezes harder. But Wally can feel the laugh building in his chest, can feel him shake. Feel him smile against Wally's neck.
"No more grabbing my ass in public, Wally."
"Mm-mmm," Wally apologizes. Sorta. "So... do I want to know where my uniform is? Oh hey, do you think your ring works on gorilla hair?"
"Okay," John says, and pushes him off, and Wally grumbles and they disengage and Wally's maybe only a little secretly pleased that John has to grab the back of his couch in order to haul himself up.
Of course, he can't really say anything about it. Considering the fact that he's sort of lying on his back on the carpet and... well, let's just say he doesn't really feel like moving.
He beams up at John.
"You got any ice cream?"
"... Maybe after we get the Javelin back to the Watchtower where it belongs." And John's voice is all business, and then his ring flares and he's back in his uniform and Wally sighs. Closes his eyes as John aims the ring at him.
"Hey, I've had a long day, okay. Grodd's like officially my nemesis. And then a million push-ups --"
Flash pauses in the doorway. Gives John a look that's probably not as pointed as he wants it to be, given that he's got the mask on and, well, he's too fucking well-fucked at the moment to do anything but smile like the dreamy, wellfucked goof he is.
John looks at him for a moment, this weird, fond smile on his face. And then he lifts his hand and touches Flash's temple, moves his hand a little and.
Oh, yeah. The bent bolt. There's a little green glow, and then John drops his hand, and Flash twists his head to the side trying to see -- wait, no. Not gonna work. "You fixed it?"
"Thanks," Flash says, and kisses him in the doorway, not even caring if the scary landlady sees them.
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