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Not two days after Barry received a rather embarrassing DVD in the mail from Ray Palmer—something he still wasn’t quite sure what to do about, like should he say something to the man? Apologize about the desk? About the painting the Rogues had stolen? Just die of mortification?—Barry ran into Len and Mick again.
Well, he didn’t really run into them. They weren’t even stealing anything, for once. Rather, Barry found himself going toe to toe with a meta-human on the Keystone bridge after clearing everyone to safety, only to feel a pair of eyes on him. He couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from, why the feeling was there, until after the police's meta task force had swarmed the bridge and taken the meta into custody. Then Barry was streaking off the bridge when he caught a—“Hey kid!”—as he zoomed past.
He immediately pulled up short and did a double take. That was Mick Rory’s voice.
“Up here!” That was Len’s.
Barry looked up to see the two of them on a roof, wearing their ridiculous costumes, grinning like idiots. He had to laugh, even while shaking his head, and flicked off the communications feedback to Caitlin and Cisco before detouring up the fire escape.
“Thought you guys were a Rogues gallery, not a peanut gallery? Watching me work now?”
“Har har, Scarlet,” Len titled his head to the side, “just in the neighborhood, thought we’d enjoy the show.”
“You zipping around that bridge is better than fireworks.”
Barry pushed back his cowl with a smile. “That your way of saying you’d like another show, Mick?”
The man chuffed a rumbling laugh while Len smirked, “this mean you’re game for another round, Scarlet? Or do we have to steal something and promise to put it back if you zip by?”
“Think I’m done falling for that one, Len.”
Len just shrugged his shoulders unrepentantly. “Can’t blame us for making things interesting.”
“Oh, I think they’re plenty interesting without the pretense.” Barry resisted the urge to swallow after saying it, surprised at his down daring, knowing he was sort of walking eyes-wide-open into the lions’ den.
“Glad you’re on board,” Mick’s low voice floated over as the man stepped forward. “Someone as pretty as you deserves to be shown a good time.”
Barry was about to ask if Mick was gonna’ be the one to show it to him, but Len spoke first, “we’ve got a place, over in East Glen.”
“Text me the address—and don’t bother pretending you don’t have my number. I’ll be there after my rounds are done, if you can be patient this time.”
Len’s eyes flared and Mick’s were focused on him intently, sliding up and down Barry’s frame in the Flash suit. “I think we can contain ourselves till you show, doll.”
Barry felt himself grinning before pulling up the cowl and zipping back to the lab. He was distracted for the hour it took him to finish up around the city and then chat with Caitlin and Cisco, stopping to shower and grab plain clothes before speeding over. Nervous energy was building up inside him, not at all like the first time though. Now he knew what to expect, and found himself wanting it. With Cold and Heatwave, he always felt like he knew where he stood, and they seemed as eager as he was to figure out how to continue this little thing they’d been doing—only twice now but it felt like longer, like more. Sex that good, that vulnerable, it built a lot of trust pretty quick, even if he wouldn’t trust them an inch outside the bedroom.
He got to the address Len texted and tried to fix his hair before going in, even knowing it would be mussed up in minutes. He hadn’t even made it to the door when it swung open, Mick answering with a pleased grunt, letting Barry in. It was a different safehouse than the first time—did they rotate? Or just get rid of that one after having shown it to Barry? Len had a drink in his hand, leaning casually against the entrance to what looked like a kitchen.
“Hello, Barry.”
“Len.” He turned, “Mick.”
“Can we get you a drink? Anything else?”
This was new, and it was sending his stomach swooping. “I’m good for now, uh, maybe later?”
Len’s eyes flashed and he felt Mick stand beside him, warm thumb on the back of his neck and Barry shivered then relaxed against the sensation. “Let’s talk, kid.”
“About what?”
He followed the men into the living room, where Len pointed at him to sit and he did, Mick taking a seat on the couch opposite him and starting the conversation.
“This is new to you,” at Barry’s confused expression, he continued, “bondage, sex with two men, sex with men at all?”
Barry swallowed and nodded his head, cast a glance at Len who was standing, leaning still, then back to Mick, wondering where he was going with this.
“So if we’re gonna’ make it a regular thing—”
“And mind, Barry, we do want to make it a regular thing,” Len’s eyes glittered when he spoke, intense and Barry agreed—
“I do too—”
“Then we need an understanding,” Mick’s voice was earnest even with the low way it rumbled. “You need to feel like you can say no, anytime, even if we’re halfway through.”
Wow, that was not what Barry was expecting. “I do. I mean I haven’t wanted to say no—”
“But if you do, you have to know that you can.”
Len cut in, “the first time was a bit of tense case, and we realize it’s not exactly the most sustainable beginning. And we all had a good time, kid—”
“You mean until you betrayed me and released the metas?” Barry rolled his eyes at Len’s slightly chagrined expression. “Yeah, don’t think I forgot. Not to mention you guys still stole that painting from Ray’s house. Getting me into the exact room where it was hanging up was a stroke of genius, gotta say.”
Mick and Len at least looked proud of themselves, and Barry wasn’t sure if he ever could have expected them to be repentant. He would be a little in awe of them if he let himself, wondering what the hell kind of bedfellows he’d chosen, but he tried not to dwell too much on their criminal activity.
“Look, I think we’re past that kind of negotiation, right? Don’t hurt innocent people and I think we can keep this going though?” He wasn’t quite sure what else they wanted from him. Mick supplied the answer, though.
“You need a safeword, kid.”
“I—a what?”
Len sighed, “Mick’s right, Barry. If we’re gonna’ tie you up and have our wicked way with you, you need to be able to say no, really no. You beg and moan and let us do what we want but we’ve pushed the envelope before—don’t think I don’t know that the cold cell was a bit much, Barry—but the point is we’ll almost certainly do it again. We like things intense, it’s our speed. Yours too, from what we can tell, but we’ve gotta be on the same wavelength.”
Barry shivered, remembering the cold cell, pushing into him, penetrating, icing his insides in a way that almost hurt then felt so good. His voice was a bit hoarse “right, okay, guess that’s a good idea.”
It was endearing to him that they wanted to look out for him, wanted to make sure he knew he could say no—which he did know, and never really felt in doubt of. Maybe they hadn’t clued in, but anything they did to Barry’s body they did with his permission, because if he needed to, he could overpower either of them in a second so long as their weapons weren’t out, phase out of his bonds and be gone.
But then Mick was there, standing in front of Barry, eyeing him and, “Well?”
“Okay, if you’re sure then, uh… Starling.” If Barry was thinking of Oliver it would definitely be time to stop. He heard Len chuckle from off to the side, no doubt guessing his train of thought, even as Mick grunted.
“Starling. Got it.”
“This mean you’re gonna’ fuck me this time, Mick?” Barry found himself bold enough to ask, to hope, since Mick seemed to be actively participating.
“Is that what you want?” he asked in a low voice, and Barry’s breath caught in his throat as he nodded.
“Stand up, Barry,” Len spoke, and Barry obeyed. Then he felt Len stand behind him and he started at the sudden cool fingers curling over his hips, the feel of the man’s body pressed to his back, voice near Barry’s ear.
“He asked if that’s what you wanted, Barry.”
Barry exhaled, shivered, but found his voice, “yes.”
Len mmm’d near his ear then captured the lobe gently in his teeth, earning a gasp from Barry. Mick’s eyes widened hungrily even as Len’s fingers moved to Barry’s arms, pulling his wrists behind his back and moving him so that Barry clasped his hands together in a self-imposed bind, understanding the implicit instruction not to move them.
Then Len’s fingers were skimming up his arms and his lips were on Barry’s neck, murmuring, “Why don’t you tell Mick exactly what you want him to do to you, Barry?”
Oh fuck. Len was gonna’ make him stand here and say it all out loud, wasn’t he? A thrill ran up Barry at the thought, cock hardening his pants, embarrassed and getting hot half because of it. Mick was still just watching, expression rapt and intense and Barry tried to keep his voice level but it was difficult with Len sucking on his neck, hands moving now to his waist, sliding up his shirt to tease the warm skin underneath.
“I want—god I want Mick to fuck me. I want him to make good on those promises from last time—” Len bit his neck and Barry swallowed and exhaled breathily.
“Look him in the eyes when you say it, Red.”
He whimpered when Len licked over the bite and then pulled Barry’s shirt over his head, titling his chin back to help, letting Len pull it down his arms and letting it catch on his clasped hands. Then Len was sucking the other side of his neck, fingers splayed over his front, one hand reaching up to tease Barry’s nipple even as he arched he neck and willed himself to look Mick in the eyes, trying not to die of mortification and arousal.
“I want—I want you to tie me up,” Barry’s voice was so hoarse even to his own ears but Mick’s eyes were pools of heat so he kept going, “and I want to suck your cock.” Len pinched his nipple and he swallowed back the gasp, but couldn’t check the micro-thrust forward of his hips. “I want you to put me on my knees with my hands behind my back and—ah—make me yours. Make sure I know I’m yours.”
He shivered at Len’s cool fingers on his skin, at Len dragging in a breath close to his ear. “Jesus, Scarlet—should get you to ask for it more often.”
“That can all be arranged, doll,” Mick stepped forward, finally. He was the same height as Barry, eyes level, and he dragged a thumb along Barry’s lower lip, snatching it away before Barry could capture it and suck.
“Anything else on this list of yours?” Mick gently drifted the back of his knuckles down Barry’s cheek, the side of his neck, and he shivered. Mick’s fingers were so warm, such a contrast to Len’s, who had one hand on Barry’s hip and the other moving to cup him on the outside of his jeans, making it so much harder to look Mick in the eye, especially with him right there, just inches of charged air between them.
“I want you to hold me down and—” god was he really gonna’ say it? “—and make me beg.”
Mick didn’t seem shocked, instead he chuckled, low and dark and the sound went straight to Barry’s very hard and constrained cock, straining up against Len’s fingers overtop the denim. The man was undoing the button, sliding down the zip. His hand was teasing Barry on the outside of his underwear and it was cruel but kind and he tried not to buck into it.
Then Barry was gasping, arching because Mick brought his hand up to Barry’s hair and dragged it through the strands before pulling on them, firm and it felt so good, so goddamn authoritative and confident. Mick pulled him closer and Barry almost toppled forward, arms straining behind him, almost shaking with the effort of holding himself back from unclasping them, of giving in to the temptation of wrapping his arms around Mick, of reaching for Len behind him, whose hand on Barry’s hip was the only reason he didn’t fall forward, just pressed smoothly chest-to-chest into Mick.
Mick’s other hand came up to Barry’s jaw, tilting his head upward so that they were eye level even with the dip in Barry’s back, the leaning pose, and his lips were a scant breath from Barry’s, who was panting against Mick’s lip, too hot all over, Len’s fingers still teasing his cock overtop his underwear.
“So beg, Barry,” Mick told him, tugging at his hair.
“Mick,” he gasped, then a breath later, “please.”
Mick hmm’d and Barry shook and Len bit his shoulder. With his jeans sliding down his thighs, back arched, he could feel Len’s hardness against the crest of his ass, still held off by the man’s jeans and by Barry’s boxer briefs stretched over his cheeks, but he felt Len press forward slightly and he pressed his own hips back.
“Please what, Barry?” Len kissed over the bite on Barry’s shoulder.
“Please just—anything. Kiss me, touch me, pull my hair, I don’t care just—more.”
“You’re a right little slut, aren’t you, Barry?” Mick said it affectionately in a way that made Barry want to preen. “Greedy and pretty. Don’t worry, doll, we’ll give you more.”
“God ye—mff!”
Mick finally kissed him and it was like the tense, slow burning intensity shot up to high gear. Mick could dominate a kiss, completely owning Barry’s mouth, less tongue and more tender than Len’s kisses, more sucking on Barry’s lower lip and pulling Barry’s head forward to meet him. Len took it as a signal to move, sliding Barry’s jeans and underwear down his legs, helping him step out of them even as Mick kissed him, even as he denied himself wrapping his arms around Mick.
Then Mick was stepping back, and Len was stepping back, and Barry was standing, dazed and naked, feeling for once like the slowest person in the room. The way the two Rogues worked in sync was incredible.
“Let down your arms, Barry.” Len gave the order and Barry sighed as he did, the shirt tangled up in them finally dropping to the ground.
“If you want to be begging, Barry, I’m going to start you off with a treat.”
Barry turned to look and Len who was smirking, then back at Mick as the man doffed his shirt, all strong muscles on display, scars that Barry wanted to mouth along and kiss. But then Mick stepped forward and turned him to face Len, his back against Mick’s chest, Mick’s hands on his biceps, a parallel of his earlier position except that now he was naked and—oh.
Len moved to his knees in front of Barry and smirked up at him, hand already wrapping around his cock.
“You’re really gonna’—”
“Don’t thank me yet, Barry. I won’t let you get off that quickly.”
Barry had a half-second of his stomach swooping, a half-second to wonder just how totally screwed he was, and then Len was wrapping his lips around Barry’s cock and he stopped caring how intense the night was going to be. It felt divine. Len’s mouth was like slick velvet heat, sucking around him, pulling the head of Barry’s cock back and he tried to breath, hitched and shaky breaths escaping. He ghosted his fingers over the side of Len’s face, the crown of his head, down on his shoulders and Len flicked his tongue around the head, over the slit, and fuck he was good at this, definitely more practiced than Barry and it sent shivers up his spine.
After a minute of watching Len take Barry in his mouth, Mick had started moving, pulling Barry’s wrists behind him and into one of his big, warm hands. His grip wasn’t tight, didn’t even hand to be, it was just there to anchor Barry, to hold him fast. Even as Len moved to licking the underside of his cock in a long, wet stroke, staring up at Barry in a way that was going to drive him insane, Mick used his free hand to slide up and down Barry’s chest, thumb flicking one of his nipples. Barry gasped and his cock twitched and Len chucked around the head of it. Mick’s fingers just kept moving, ghosting over his skin, kissing his neck, shoulder, dusting kisses on his skin that Barry arched his neck to make room for. And he was half lost in sensation already, focused on Len’s eyes, on the feel of his tongue, on the heat of Mick’s hand wrapped around his wrists, pliant between the two men.
Mick licked his neck and then sucked on a sensitive spot and Barry let out a chocked off whimper.
“Thought you were gonna’ be noisy, doll. Why hold it back?”
“I—ah—just trying to—“ Len sucked the tip and rolled Barry’s balls gently in his hand and Barry groaned low—“to pace myself.”
Mick chuckled near his ear. “You’ll be on edge before long no matter what, baby.”
Len swallowed Barry’s cock until it hit the back off the man’s throat, sucking hard.
“Fuck, I—ah—god!”
Len pulled off with a pop and Barry swore.
“Fuck, Len—please!” he whined, begged, but Len was just standing, cocky and pleased with himself, looking Barry in the eye when he said,
“No.”
He let out a sound of frustration but didn’t ask, didn’t beg because he’d been given a direct no from Len and while part of him—a big part of him—wanted to get off, a much bigger part of him was excited for whatever came next. So Barry swallowed back his protests.
“We’ve got so much in store for you, if you can be patient. On the bed, Barry. On your knees.”
He moved to obey without hesitation, Mick dropping his wrists, and he turned enough to catch Mick’s eye on his way, the man clearly unashamed about watching Barry walk, eyes tracking his ass. Barry moved to the middle of the bed, up on his knees and full of anticipation and a fast-beating heart when Mick moved in front of him, Len behind, both of them undressing first.
“Hold your elbows in your opposite hands, Barry.”
He swallowed and did, the pose mimicking what they’d done to him last time, over the desk at Palmer’s party.
“Good, now hold them there. Let’s see just how good your self-control is.”
Barry swallowed, cock twitching under Len’s appraising gaze even as he flushed from it.
“Time to start filling your wish-list, doll.”
Mick pulled him forward by his shoulders, catching him so he wouldn’t face-plant into the mattress with his arms self-restrained, and Barry let him, let Mick hold him up until he moved to gain his balance, Len behind him, pulling apart his thighs until Barry’s back was arched and his ass was an embarrassing level of exposed. Then his face was in front of Mick’s cock, hard and thick. Barry didn’t hesitate, nuzzling the base, kissing the side of it, and shifted with the help of Mick’s hand on his shoulder to tilt back, Mick’s free hand dropping to his shaft and lining it up to Barry’s mouth, sliding it in as Barry’s tongue came out to lap at the underside.
Len’s hands smoothed over his ass cheeks, chill in contrast to the heat coursing through him and then—fuck holy shit fuck—Len pulled them apart and licked. Barry moaned around Mick’s cock, shocked, a shudder of pleasure running through him. Len did it again and he couldn't help but groan around Mick’s cock, earning a grunt of pleasure from the man as he pushed gently but insistently into Barry’s mouth.
Then Len’s tongue was just there, swirling and circling his entrance and Barry was a mess. He was barely able to concentrate on Mick’s cock, shaking and quivering, swallowing and trying to breath as Mick started gently thrusting, fingers moving off his shaft to gently skim over Barry’s cheeks, one to his hair to hold his head up. Len’s tongue teased him, almost pressing in, just enough to make the tight ring of muscle give and quiver, even as Mick’s thrusts became more insistent, fucking his mouth like he’d promised. It was too much, too good, alight with sensations he didn't know existed, Len's tongue turning him into a complete wreck, focused on the slick and deft tongue, the way it made him vibrate. He was already losing control, turned on and almost immobilized between the men and on the edge from it, from giving over his control to them, holding his own arms tight behind him obediently.
Len’s tongue pushed in, past the ring of muscle and he almost screamed—did scream—in pleasure, throat opening up and Mick’s cock pressed instinctually forward, down his throat and to the base, Barry’s nose pressed against his pelvis. Fuck. He didn’t even know he could do that.
“Fuck, doll, god-damn you are tight, baby—throat’s so fucking tight,” Mick crooned, breathless. Len’s tongue fucked into him, thrusting and Barry vibrated, throat pulsating around Mick’s cock and the man groaned, pulled back and Barry could gasp in a breath before Mick pulled again on his hair sharp and thrust back in, down to the base as Barry’s throat constricted and vibrated around him. Mick fucked his face like that, Barry swallowing around him, gasping in air whenever Mick pulled back before thrusting down his throat and it made his own cock ache to be touched, feeling Mick’s hands in his hair controlling the pace.
“Fuck baby, yeah, fuck, take it, yeah, gonna—ah,” Mick pulled back but not all the way, just so that he was cumming in Barry’s mouth and he could taste it, bitter and dropping onto his tongue in hot spurts as Mick held his hair and groaned at the sight. He swallowed it down when Mick retreated fully, sated, Barry still shaking but Len’s tongue had retreated too, leaving Barry gasping with his face pressed to the inside of Mick’s hip.
Mick’s fingers were carding through his hair, gently now, soft and Barry sighed. His cock was aching and stiff and there were tears on his face from screaming with Len’s tongue inside him, from choking around Mick’s cock, but he wouldn’t move an arm to wipe them.
“Enjoying yourself, doll?”
“Mmm.”
“Let down your arms now,” Len ordered.
Barry sighed, relaxing for a second, dropped his arms under him, planting himself firmly on his elbows as Mick shifted out from his spot between Barry and the headboard. Seconds later he felt one of Len’s fingers press inside him, one at first to replace the feel of Len’s tongue. It was slick and insistent, that weird and pleasant feeling of his body being invaded, and he groaned and arched himself so that his face was down and his ass was up, legs spread as Len fucked Barry with his fingers. He added a second almost immediately, pressing over Barry’s prostate and deeper before retreating and pushing in again. Barry rolled his hips back to meet them, gasping, clutching his fists into the sheet and all too quickly begging—
“Please, Len, fuck—feels so good. Please!”
“Please what, doll?” Mick was laying beside him now, casually watching, leaning up on one elbow and Barry’s head turned toward him when he spoke. “Let’s hear you.” His hand came over again to drag into Barry’s hair, scalp so sensitive it made him shiver under the touch, even as Len’s fingers slowed and scissored deep inside him.
“Please,” he moaned, pressing back on Len’s fingers, leaning up into Mick’s hand, “just touch me. I’m so close, Len, Mick, I’m—ah—so—nnn—please!”
Mick gave a low, rumbling laugh, giving Barry’s hair a light tug and he gasped at the sensations it shot through him, quivering.
“You won’t be coming until we’ve had our fill of you, Barry.”
“Ah—then—pleasefortheloveofgod—ah—fuck me already.”
“Since you asked nicely.” Len’s voice was controlled but low and predatory somewhere behind Barry. He pulled his fingers out and Barry shook, Mick’s hand in his hair, fingers scraping gently in a way that sent shivers all down his body. Instead of Len taking Barry’s hands in his hips and slamming forward into his body though, he took a moment to shift away.
“But even so, you’ll be begging for a while, Barry. You won’t be coming till Mick’s inside you, just like you asked, begging for him.”
He let out a strangled whine, a half desperate moan. He wanted Mick to fuck him so badly, looked up at the man who was moving now, hand shifting from his hair to drift lightly along Barry’s body, arms, back. Mick was already sated from having come once, and dammit, Barry realized he would have to wait for a natural refractory period, would have to wait for Mick to be ready to come again, to fuck him. Barry was gonna’ go insane.
“Mick, the rope?”
Mick shifted, suddenly focused, “Right. Lay back, doll.”
Barry started moving slowly, but Mick got impatient and grabbed him and moved him like he was weightless, effortlessly manhandled him without asking, without a second’s notice, sliding Barry up toward the headboard and taking his arms, placing them above his head.
“Hold that.”
Barry did, looping his fingers around the cold wrought iron. Len was off to the side, watching with a smirk as Mick grabbed a rope from the side table and looped it around Barry’s wrists, binding him to the headboard before kissing the underside of his arms, feather light.
“How flexible are you?”
Barry looked up into Mick’s gaze and couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him.
“How flexible do I need to be for whatever you’re planning?”
Mick grunted and didn’t respond, lifting one of Barry’s legs and pressing it back experimentally. When it started to stretch Barry let out an appreciative groan, head falling back.
“You like that?”
“Lot of running, lots of stretching.”
“Hmm.”
He did the other thigh and then took both, pushed them back and Barry let out a reverent curse.
“No wonder you like watching so much, Mick. Even watching you press him back is tantalizing.”
“You mean hot, Snart?”
Barry laughed, wondering if Len had an aversion to heat-related words. His laugh turned to a groan when Mick pressed his thighs down a little further by his shoulders, a stretch with a burn, his muscles clenching appreciatively. Len chuckled, laying down beside him.
“Someone’s cocky for such an exposed position.”
“I—oh,” Barry couldn’t bother to retort because Mick was picking up a previously discarded length rope.
“Hold his legs?” he asked Len, and Len did, leaning over and holding Barry’s legs by his shoulders. He groaned as the rope array got complex and detailed, like Mick knew exactly what he was doing, binding Barry's legs back so he couldn’t move them, wouldn't be able to get leverage at all. He was so screwed. It shouldn’t be as hot as it was. “God I can’t wait for you to fuck me, Mick.”
He really couldn’t.
“All in due time, doll."
Barry had gathered that Len was up first, and figured he might just die by the time Mick did fuck him. And true to form, once Barry was tied up, the men switched positions, Len putting on a condom and moving between his legs and Mick leaning on his side to watch, grinning at him.
"Nice to see you like this, kid, really at my mercy, for once," Len's fingers teased a circle around his entrance as he spoke, making Barry's breath hitch. "You gonna' ask nicely, Barry?"
God Len could be such an ass, but when his fingers were teasing Barry, he wasn't about to argue or complain too much. "Please, Len?"
"Please what?"
"Please fuck me."
Len slid a finger in, sliding it along his prostate and Barry's eyes fluttered close before the finger disappeared suddenly. He glared up at Len. "Please what, Barry?"
Len really must get off on making him say it. Barry tried to fight the blush making its wait to his cheeks. His voice was hoarse, "please give me your cock."
"Mmm."
Without warning, Len lined himself up and pushed in, fast and sure. Barry groaned, body stretching around Len’s cock, muscles tight because the position he was in, unable to move at all, bound and body just taking it, inch by inch. Len’s hands where on his asscheeks, gripping and stretching, massaging and it was tantalizing. It was all tantalizing. Barry’s breathing was heavy and hitched.
“Len—”
“Like that, Barry?” God, his voice was gravelly but somehow still so goddamn cocky. He was thrusting, long rolls of his hips that were deep but slow so slow now.
“I—ah, faster—”
“Not a chance, kid.” He slowed further, making sure it would never be enough for Barry to come, just teasing him and he really was totally at Len’s mercy. It was awful and delicious and Barry never wanted it to end, wanton.
“You’re—ah, god, fuck—you’re so fucking cold, Len.”
“Consider it punishment, kid, for mixing up with scoundrels like us,” Len shot back with a groan, rolling his hips, pushing him deep into Barry.
“Ha—ah—”
Mick’s fingers drifted over Barry’s arms, light and almost ticklish and he threw his head back, exposing his neck, about the only movement he could accomplish.
“That’s right doll, just take it.”
He moaned while Len leaned forward over him to suck his neck, causing Barry’s legs to stretch even more, the angle to line up so that each thrust made the whole length of Len’s cock drag against his prostrate and he moaned with abandon, beside himself. He couldn't hold back much longer even with the pace Len was setting, insides clenching and vibrating now, begging in earnest, a litany of “please” and “more” and Len’s name, Mick’s name for good measure as warm hands drifted along his skin. Len's thrusts got faster as the man himself got closer, fucking until Barry was shamelessly begging, untouched but close beyond belief.
“Please! Fuck I’m gonna’ come I can’t hold back it’s too good, it’s too fucking good, Len, fuck, please—ah! God, I need—”
Len slammed his hips forward but grabbed the base of Barry’s cock just tight enough to stop him from cumming, precum leaking out and he sobbed, whole body seized with the effort of not coming, grip tight on the headboard tight as he swore and there was a grinding, groaning sound.
“Did he just—”
“Holy shit—”
Barry gasped in a breath and managed to stave off his orgasm, pulsing but not coming, on edge and crying. But Len had stopped moving so he blinked his eyes open, coming halfway back to reality, “wha—”
“Never mind, Barry,” he rolled his hips into Barry, slow again, making him shudder, grip still at the base of his cock. Then he was picking up his pace, faster and faster, and Barry’s eyes were closed, over-stimulated, whimpering and begging, sobbing maybe, whole body shaking and time was almost dilating, he lost all track of what was probably just seconds until Len was slamming his hips forward, making Barry all but scream as the man hit his prostate over and over until Len was coming, swearing, groaning Barry’s name and shuddering inside him.
Barry let out a sob when Len pulled out. He was still desperate, on a cliff, a ledge, and Len just looked calm and sated. The bastard. Barry wanted to hate him, jealous of his calm, cool, post-orgasm bliss, but he didn’t have the brain cells left to do anything more than to try and breathe while he looked between Len and Mick, pleading. Len patted his ass check with a smirk.
“Why don’t you sit tight? I’ve got a surprise for you. Mick, his binds?”
Len moved back and off the bed while Mick, to Barry’s surprise, reached up started to undo his binds.
“Didn’t figure you’d be letting me out so soon, Len.” Barry could barely hold himself up on his thighs as Mick untied the ropes.
Len moved out of the room for a minute, calling behind him as he went, “consider this us helping you cool down, Barry, before Mick fucks you.”
Barry was only half sure he wanted to know what Len was up to. But then Mick looked down with a smirk. “Gotta’ switch up this up or there won’t be a headboard left.”
Barry made a noise of confusion and looked up, realizing what the grinding sound from earlier had been. He must have been vibrating, his accelerated strength bending the wrought iron headboard substantially, dragging it forward as he ached for leverage and traction. But now Mick was untying him again, gentle over his arms, letting down his legs in a way that made him gasp as the stretched muscles could relax. He sighed when his arms were released, feeling circulation pick back up. It hadn’t been cut off but still slower and Mick rubbed each arm gently, kissed each shoulder.
He was unbound for all of twenty seconds, though, limbs loose, before Mick was gently tugging his arms behind his back, murmuring filthy promises near Barry’s ear and kissing his jaw, feather-light, and he reached for the rope again.
Mick was right pressed behind Barry again, radiating heat, and tied Barry’s arms back behind him, making him grab each elbow again. He he felt the rope loop around his wrists but it didn’t stop there. Mick began to bind both wrists and arms in some pattern too complex for Barry to follow; it went over his forearms and wrists but then to his biceps, looping the rope around his body and across his chest to make it tight and hold his arms just so, stretched and tight and clearly an elegant design. It had almost no give, elaborate so that Barry could barely move a muscle with patterns across his torso. He gasped when Mick gave the whole system a quick tug.
“Good?”
“Ah—yeah—” it was. Barry almost wanted to groan just from the craftsmanship, the detail, the way he couldn’t move. And Mick was running his fingers along the ropes on Barry’s chest and Barry was reminded of just how badly he needed to come when Mick took full advantage of his immobility and gently pinched and teased his nipples, drawing short, wanton gasps from Barry.
“You two look good like this,” Len cut in from the doorway. He was leaning there, unabashedly naked, eyes dark on Barry.
“Got it, Snart?”
“Mm.”
“Got what?” he rolled Barry's hard nipples in his fingers.
“Why don’t you bend back over, Barry?” Len supplied, and Barry noticed finally that he had a hand behind his back. Well, fuck. Mick helped tip him forward, until his shoulders were on the mattress, bent and on his knees, flushing, and he knew Mick would be looking straight down at his used ass. True to form, Barry heard the man let out a pleased rumble, gently palming each cheek, both thumbs pressing over his entrance, stretching it.
“Slick and greedy.”
Barry arched his back and swallowed, hearing Len coming over to the bed, feeling it dip under his weight.
“Spread him wider.”
Oh god. Mick did, hand on each cheek pulling them wider, stretching him out. He felt hot shame and pleasure, his cock twitching. And then fuck—his whole body shivered at the ice cold sensation against his entrance, choking back a gasp. For a second he thought it was the cold cell again, but it was pressing into him and felt different, wider, widening, oh fuck it was getting thicker, stretching him, so goddamn cold and he was gasping into the sheets as Len pushed the butt plug into him. It wasn’t a small one either, thick as Len’s cock at it’s widest, maybe thicker, hard and he guessed it was made of glass, which would mean it was transparent and oh god it was cold. He felt his muscles contract around it, taking it in and it resting there, chill against his inner walls, the tighter ring of his entrance pressing around a narrower part, the base flaring out behind him, pressing against his cheeks as Mick chuckled, squeezing them together now instead of pulling them apart.
“God-damn, that’s—ah f-fuck it’s so cold,” he shivered and felt Len’s—definitely Len’s with how chilly they were—fingers slide down and cup his balls.
“It was in the freezer for a little while.”
“Fuck, Len.”
He felt a tug on the toy and his breath hitched as Mick pulled at it before letting it go, letting Barry's ass swallow it back in. He groaned and heard Mick behind him do the same.
"Such a little slut for it, aren't you, doll?"
"Yes," he gasped, legs shaking when Mick repeated the action, pulling it a bit further before letting it go, keening. Mick chuckled and gave his asscheek a swat, just hard enough for Barry to gasp, repeating the action on his other cheek before taking both again and stretching them, thumbs teasing at his entrance alongside the toy. Barry whimpered, only able to imagine how it must look, stretched around the clear cold glass. Then Mick gave each cheek another spank for good measure before Barry felt him shift back on the bed.
"Roll over," Len's voice was there, and Barry swallowed and moved slowly to comply.
Two sets of hands helped pushing him onto his back, ass clenching around the cold toy. Len hooked Barry's legs up on his shoulders, making the toy shift inside him and he looked up into Len's dark eyes as the man grinned. To Barry’s chagrin, delight, frustration, and ecstasy, good god Len didn’t pull the toy out. Instead, he leaned forward to kiss Barry, hard and intense. His nipped at Barry’s jaw then leaned back up to make space for Mick’s fingers. He was laying on his side, one hand on his cock, and now brought his hand up instead to drift over Barry's body, fingers feather light over the rope binds on his chest, reaching forward to tease his nipples and—oh god. Len leaned further back and reached down for Barry’s ass, pulling on the butt plug, just enough to bring it to its widest and then—fuck—Barry swore, gasped as Len pushed it back in, just enough to rock him back and forth, to drive him nuts, fucking Barry with it until he was begging again, half-sobbing. Mick moved over him to kiss him deep, swallowed some noises with kisses but others escaped, Barry getting louder, loud, swearing, ready to sob with pleasure, dying to come and Mick ghosted his fingers over the backs of Barry’s arms, the underside of thighs, even as Len fucked him with the toy and made him ache for release, holding it back because he wanted so bad for Mick to fuck him.
Len and Mick were keeping up a running commentary, ignoring Barry’s pleas.
“The noises he makes.”
“God he’s greedy, and he’s so fucking tight Mick you’re gonna’ love it.”
“Ass like that deserves a good cock.”
Barry couldn’t handle it, falling to pieces, sobbing, “God fuck, Len harder, please—please—”
He pulled the toy all the way out and Barry screamed, body bucking and he chocked back his own orgasm, tears leaking form his eyes. “Fuck, please, god—”
“You still okay there, doll?
“I, yes—Mick, god I want you inside me—please, Mick, want your cock so bad—”
“That’s exactly what you’re about to get,” he sounded pleased if Barry could guess. He forced his eyes open when he felt the bed dip and Mick was now sitting beside him, back propped up by pillows against the headboard, eyes hungry on Barry.
“Mick,” Barry whined, Len dropping his legs back to the mattress and he wasn't sure if he should sit up, if he was supposed to suck Mick’s cock again or if Mick was actually going to fuck him now or—
“Come here, doll. You’re going to ride me.”
Oh.
He moved with a little help from the Len, manhandling him as Mick rolled on a condom, and then Barry was straddling him. Mick had his hands on Barry’s asscheeks, stretching them apart and then pulling him forward until he was lined up over Mick's cock. It was so big, wider than Len even, and Mick helped guide him down onto it. Barry gasped as soon as in breached him, and Mick kept a tight grip on his hips then, making Barry go so goddamn slowly, inch by inch stretching him out until he was seated fully on Mick, relaxing himself take the wide cock all the way to the base, clenching around it and breathing raggedly. He was still bound and now sitting on Mick's cock, finally, a little high from it all.
“Ride me, doll. I want to see you exhaust yourself.”
Barry’s throat was dry, looking down at Mick through lidded eyes and he began to move, Mick’s hands help keeping him steady since his own were bound, using his thighs to roll himself up then down, each thrust down taking Mick deep as they both groaned. Barry couldn’t help but beg Mick to let him go faster. It didn’t happen.
“He’s, hah, pretty when he’s tied up, isn’t he?” Mick’s voice was too in control, just the occasional grunt, patient as he smoothed one hand over the ropes across Barry’s chest. “Like fire, nnm, hot ‘n, ah—fast.”
“Mm, more like ice, Mick, he’s smooth and strong.”
Mick’s other hand moved up Barry’s body, forcing him to slow himself down so he wouldn’t topple at the sudden loss of any balancing help, even while Mick teased his nipples. They were almost sore at this point from all the attention but it felt so good and Barry keened as his muscles clenched, thighs too, ass tight around Mick.
Len moved over, behind Barry, and for an insane second he wondered if both of them might fuck him at once, if his body could stretch to accommodate. That was the more delirious part of Barry’s brain, though, and Len settled behind, straddling Mick’s thighs behind Barry, naked and pressed to his back. One hand moved to Barry’s hair, his forehead really, keeping the matted hair from dripping sweat down into Barry’s eyes, pulling his head back so Len could kiss his neck all over, sucking a bruise there. The other hand moved around Barry, not to his cock and he whined but it went to his hip, guiding him, controlling his speed as he pumped his hips down onto Mick, helping Barry move, and Len started murmuring commands into his ear,
“Ride him, Barry, take it all, like that, slow now,” his fingers felt like a brand against Barry’s hip, pushing him down hard to the hilt on Mick’s cock and he gasped, “squeeze tight around him, baby, just like that.”
Barry moaned, clenching his muscles tight around Mick despite how big the man felt already, earning a broken gasp from Mick, fingers teasing his nipples and drawing a sob from Barry in turn. Len’s hand held him there for a moment, forcing him to clench and gasp before moving again, up and down, pushing him to the hilt on each thrust, telling him to take it all, deep, slowly building up to move Barry faster, Barry following the pace Len set for him, and the man kept up his litany of hedonism in a voice like rough velvet.
“Fuck yourself on him, Barry, faster now, you can take it, all the way each time, c’mon. Now harder, can’t you see how much he likes that—“ Barry could, he could, fuck, Len’s voice was in his ear but Mick’s eyes had caught his gaze and wouldn’t let go, eyes dark and hungry, almost hazed over with bliss. “Vibrate for him, yeah like that. Fuck down faster, make him want it, just like that, kid, so pretty for him, so hot for him. You wanna’ belong to him? Take it. Quake just like that, fast, open up for him. Your ass is so greedy for it, isn’t it, need him inside you? You’re beautiful, just a little more, come on, Barry. He likes that, yeah, make him come. Make him come, Barry.”
Barry was shaking, thighs strong and straining with effort, clenching down and vibrating around Mick’s cock, each thrust down taking it hard to the hilt, Barry gasping on each one, tears of pleasure rolling down from the edge of his eyes and at Len’s words he felt Mick’s clench, body stiff as he arched up, eyes snapping closed as he threw his head back with a shout and came.
As soon as Mick’s orgasm started to hit him, Len dropped his hand from Barry’s forehead to his cock and stroked it once—twice—fuck—Barry was—god he came—screamed—shook and clenched around Mick still coming inside him, sobbing—everything was white and black spots danced in front of his vision, orgasm seeming to go on and on, on forever, shaking and shouting and shuddering, forgetting to draw in breath until it was over and he was gasping again.
Mick had come hard and deep inside him, and through his bliss, there was something about it that was incredibly satisfying, something that kept him sensitized even after the orgasm of his life, overstimulated as he pulled off Mick’s cock, shaking.
“How was that, doll?” Mick’s grin was sated as he drifted his fingers along Barry’s skin. His brain couldn’t formulate words right now so just smiled and let out a low rumble in his chest, a contented sound that quickly turned to a moan when he felt something press up against his ass again.
“Mmm, ah—”
Len and Mick’s hands were on him then, pulling him forward so he was bent over, ass back in the air, chest pressed to Mick’s, head beside him.
“You really gonna’ fuck him on top of me, Lenny?”
Len didn’t even answer, just pressed into Barry and Barry gasped then groaned, loud near Mick’s ear.
“Fuck—” he managed, still hard, Mick’s fingers on his cock suddenly and his own arms still trapped behind his back.
“How fast can we get you to come again, kid?” Len wasn’t going slow this time, setting a fast and hard pace that had Barry shaking and shuddering, gulping in air, sobbing again, begging a broken "please" as his body, his ass, his cock were all overstimulated, Mick’s fingers drifting on his skin and tugging at his weeping cock, his own cum cooling on his stomach. Every nerve was on end, alight and he couldn't handle it, Len slamming into his prostrate, his ass still pulsing from his last orgasm like it hadn’t fully abated, and he was on edge in seconds.
“I—ah—fuck—no refractory peri—AH!” It was too much, too fast, and he was shouting and bit into Mick’s shoulder, coming hard in the man’s hand as Len fucked him. And kept fucking him, faster and faster, urging Barry on with words of filth as Barry pressed his face into the mattress, vibrating uncontrollably, overstimulated and shaking from it, his second orgasm having made him even more sensitive, gasping when someone rubbed his nipples, shuddering and someone’s hand in his hair, sobbing when fingers slid around his asshole, stretched around Len’s cock, teasing the taught skin and driving him insane, cupping his balls, sliding along his perineum and it was all too much, Barry couldn’t think, just feel, a bundle of nerves like his whole body was an erogenous zone. He felt Len pulse inside him, heard the man shout and Barry was gone, over the edge again, coming until his vision whited out, shuddering, pleading, choking on screams of pleasure.
He came down from his orgasm, from his high, with slow and steady breaths to the incredulous and warm stares of his two lovers. They untied him slowly and gently, rubbed life back into his aching limbs and kissed him in ways softer than he would have thought they knew how.
They all cleaned up, after, stretching and groaning. Barry’s legs were shaky when he stood, languid, finding himself later in the shower, Mick getting in with him and washing together, loving the feel of Mick’s warm and soapy hands over his skin. The water was as hot as Barry liked it, probably the reason Len waited until they were out to take his turn, and they had even bought Barry a toothbrush. It was only about then, halfway through brushing, half asleep and loose from coming so many times, that Barry realized it was an invitation to stay. He knew they’d joked about it, about breakfast, but he hadn’t known they were serious. It made something warm spread out in his chest. For the most part, he had no idea what he was doing. He did know, though, that he wasn’t ever really good at strictly casual sex—not that he’d ever had sex half so satisfying as this—and that he didn’t actually want to leave. So he let Mick cart him off to bed, laid down on the newly changed sheets, and let Len curl up behind him as he slept, one arm over Barry in a way that made him feel safe.
And if he woke up in the morning and rolled on top of Len to ride him, this time with Barry in charge of the pace, who could blame him? And if he stayed for breakfast that morning, no one else had to know. And if breakfast may have included Mick passing Len the spatula when Barry wandered sleepy and sated into the kitchen in nothing but his underwear, scooping up Barry for a morning kiss that progressed into a morning fuck before he knew it, well, that worked for him. And it may have been the case that Barry was bent over the table, breathless, underwear around his ankles, Mick taking his time and Barry’s brain too dead to answer when Len casually asked how he liked his eggs done, waiting for Mick to give him permission to come.
It may have made Barry late for work. As it turned out, he didn't really mind. These two were worth it.