[ Barry exhales sharp at first contact, dragging his mouth across Oliver's in a heady need for more of him, more of his lips, his touch, his warmth. He's never been with another man before either, but for some reason this doesn't scare him. He feels strangely safe in Oliver's hands, and definitely, absolutely turned on.
His Flash suit is somewhere in the room, an abandoned pile of indestructible fabric.
His own hands reach around to pull Oliver closer, gripping him at his sides, moving to rest at the waistband of his jeans while he moves his hips against the other man, then dips lower, past denim to find skin.
He grows hard, harder with each stroke Oliver rubs along the length of him until it's almost too much. He's pressed into the wall near the bed, but it's not close enough and Barry doesn't care so much to get there. This is just fine, and God it feels so - so good.
[ He knew he had to avoid being lonely tonight but the kind of company he gets is still surprising to him, even as he feels the brush of Barry's tongue against his own, like something like this could only be so natural between them. And maybe it is. For a long time, he and Barry felt so easily compatible, as friends, as teammates, as partners. Maybe it shouldn't be surprising that they'd get along well like this too.
With as much women as Oliver's slept with, Barry's mouth is just as nice as any of theirs, if not nicer.
He feels him grow thick in his grip, becoming stiffer even faster than Oliver anticipates (which is ridiculous because it's the Flash). Palm pressing tighter at a crown, he rubs distractedly around it with a thumb as he begins to undo his own jeans, nudging them down enough to let a hard cock go free. ]
Barry. [ He whispers low and raspy, edging in closer to press the length of his own erection against the other. Rocking his hips, the hardened skin rub together, a jolt of pleasure pouring through him. Barry. This is Barry. Barry has him hard and needy, has him grinding against him into a wall, suddenly drowning in the revelation this is far better than touching himself. Nipping at lips, he licks at Barry's mouth, hungrily, the low groan from his throat showcasing that he isn't holding back on this. ]
[ Barry has no intentions on holding back either, even while he's trying to maintain some semblance of cool. He's so turned on by this man, the grip of his hand around him so strong, so distinctly male, and yet there's something else there too. A bond or a trust.
Barry's well aware of how closed Oliver can be, how little of himself he reveals. Barry doesn't know Oliver in all the ways he wants to, but this is something special, he knows this much. This isn't something just everyone gets to see or experience.
(He wonders if Oliver's been with other men before.
He also realizes it doesn't matter.)
He tilts his head, presses kisses across the stubbly chin of his partner, dips lower to kiss his collar bone, momentarily resting his forehead in the crook of his shoulder while Oliver rubs him, up and down, up and down. Barry reaches for Oliver, pushing his jeans down as far as they could go while he's still standing up, and reaches for his penis in kind. ]
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His Flash suit is somewhere in the room, an abandoned pile of indestructible fabric.
His own hands reach around to pull Oliver closer, gripping him at his sides, moving to rest at the waistband of his jeans while he moves his hips against the other man, then dips lower, past denim to find skin.
He grows hard, harder with each stroke Oliver rubs along the length of him until it's almost too much. He's pressed into the wall near the bed, but it's not close enough and Barry doesn't care so much to get there. This is just fine, and God it feels so - so good.
He hums a low sound of pleasure. ]
no subject
With as much women as Oliver's slept with, Barry's mouth is just as nice as any of theirs, if not nicer.
He feels him grow thick in his grip, becoming stiffer even faster than Oliver anticipates (which is ridiculous because it's the Flash). Palm pressing tighter at a crown, he rubs distractedly around it with a thumb as he begins to undo his own jeans, nudging them down enough to let a hard cock go free. ]
Barry. [ He whispers low and raspy, edging in closer to press the length of his own erection against the other. Rocking his hips, the hardened skin rub together, a jolt of pleasure pouring through him. Barry. This is Barry. Barry has him hard and needy, has him grinding against him into a wall, suddenly drowning in the revelation this is far better than touching himself. Nipping at lips, he licks at Barry's mouth, hungrily, the low groan from his throat showcasing that he isn't holding back on this. ]
no subject
Barry's well aware of how closed Oliver can be, how little of himself he reveals. Barry doesn't know Oliver in all the ways he wants to, but this is something special, he knows this much. This isn't something just everyone gets to see or experience.
(He wonders if Oliver's been with other men before.
He also realizes it doesn't matter.)
He tilts his head, presses kisses across the stubbly chin of his partner, dips lower to kiss his collar bone, momentarily resting his forehead in the crook of his shoulder while Oliver rubs him, up and down, up and down. Barry reaches for Oliver, pushing his jeans down as far as they could go while he's still standing up, and reaches for his penis in kind. ]
Mm, yes. Oliver.