elrhiarhodan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elrhiarhodan) wrote2016-05-22 09:42 pm
elrhiarhodan) wrote2016-05-22 09:42 pm
Entry tags:
MMOM Day 22 - Hour of the Slack and Escape (The Flash)
Title: Hour of the Slack and Escape
For: MMOM - Thirty (One) Dirty Words – Day 22 (Prompt: Fight)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: The Flash
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Earth-2 Harrison Wells; Harrison Wells/Joe West
Spoilers/Episode References: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~600
Summary: After a friendly boxing match, Harry finds that he's a more than a little aroused by the beating he's taken. Or maybe it's the man who gave him the beating that’s causing this state.
Author's Notes: Written for Day 22 of the Merry Month of Masturbation, for the prompt "Fight". Written fordancesontrains, who'd originally wanted Caitlin/Iris, but was willing to settle for some Jarrison instead.
Title from the fourth movement of the Philip Glass symphony, A Descent into the Maelström.
__________________
As a scientist, Harry found the process of discovery interesting. As a man - one who'd passed the half-century mark - discovery, or more precisely, self-discovery, was surprisingly uncomfortable.
He pressed on the bruise and felt the sharp pull of arousal. He'd never been much attracted to pain, at least not that he'd realized.
Joe hadn't meant to hurt him. It had been a friendly demonstration of boxing skills. Boxing was the one competitive sports activity he'd participated in. Not recently, of course, but back during his post-doctoral years, when he'd finally grown into his height (when he'd turned eighteen). His advisor had recommended that he do something more than run to burn off energy, and boxing was as much science as skill.
He'd fared well at Princeton all those years ago, but not so well against Joe West, who'd apparently been the CCPD boxing champion three years running. Joe, of course, had demurred and protested that that had been when he was a uniformed patrol officer, and that he hadn't punched anyone competitively in twenty some-odd years.
Harry should have known better than to take Joe up on his offer to "show the kids how the grown-ups fought". After all, the man had clocked him twice. Right between the eyes.
But he wasn't someone who would ever backed down from a challenge.
And now he was paying for his arrogance. He was bruised from the waist up and rock hard from the waist down.
The question was, however, was it the pain that was making him hard or the image of Joe West, bare-chested and sweaty, trash-talking and laughing and teasing him like they'd been friends since childhood that he found so arousing?
Deliberately blanking his mind, Harry pushed at the bruise on his hip and then the one on his shoulder. There was no spark of arousal there. It wasn't the pain. He wasn't a masochist.
But apparently he was attracted to Joe. And that thought his body definitely liked.
Harry was grateful that this S.T.A.R. Labs, unlike his own, had private stall showers. The hot water felt good on his bruises and his hand felt even better on his cock. He closed his eyes and let his imagination run wild.
Joe, laughing and punching him - not in anger, not even competitively. Just a friendly fist to his shoulder, a comradely gesture. Harry shivered and pulled on himself.
Joe, pushing him to his knees, holding him by his hair, making him beg. For his cock, for everything. He leaned against the wall and imagined how Joe would taste. It had been a long time since he'd been with another man.
Joe, bringing him coffee and donuts in the morning, a Big Belly Burger in the afternoon, and a glass of scotch in the evening. At that last fantasy, Harry came hard. Harder than he had in a very long time.
So he wanted Joe West. Any apparently wasn't just a sexual thing, because he seemed to find the idea of getting fed and cared for by Joe was a hell of a lot more arousing than the thought of sucking his cock.
He rinsed himself off and tried to think like a scientist. Maybe this was just a one-off thing? Some anomalous reaction triggered by a combination of adrenaline and endorphins?
And then Harry laughed. He knew he was lying to himself. But the problem was, how long could he lie to everyone else?
FIN
For: MMOM - Thirty (One) Dirty Words – Day 22 (Prompt: Fight)
Author:
elrhiarhodan Fandom: The Flash
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Earth-2 Harrison Wells; Harrison Wells/Joe West
Spoilers/Episode References: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~600
Summary: After a friendly boxing match, Harry finds that he's a more than a little aroused by the beating he's taken. Or maybe it's the man who gave him the beating that’s causing this state.
Author's Notes: Written for Day 22 of the Merry Month of Masturbation, for the prompt "Fight". Written for
dancesontrains, who'd originally wanted Caitlin/Iris, but was willing to settle for some Jarrison instead.Title from the fourth movement of the Philip Glass symphony, A Descent into the Maelström.
As a scientist, Harry found the process of discovery interesting. As a man - one who'd passed the half-century mark - discovery, or more precisely, self-discovery, was surprisingly uncomfortable.
He pressed on the bruise and felt the sharp pull of arousal. He'd never been much attracted to pain, at least not that he'd realized.
Joe hadn't meant to hurt him. It had been a friendly demonstration of boxing skills. Boxing was the one competitive sports activity he'd participated in. Not recently, of course, but back during his post-doctoral years, when he'd finally grown into his height (when he'd turned eighteen). His advisor had recommended that he do something more than run to burn off energy, and boxing was as much science as skill.
He'd fared well at Princeton all those years ago, but not so well against Joe West, who'd apparently been the CCPD boxing champion three years running. Joe, of course, had demurred and protested that that had been when he was a uniformed patrol officer, and that he hadn't punched anyone competitively in twenty some-odd years.
Harry should have known better than to take Joe up on his offer to "show the kids how the grown-ups fought". After all, the man had clocked him twice. Right between the eyes.
But he wasn't someone who would ever backed down from a challenge.
And now he was paying for his arrogance. He was bruised from the waist up and rock hard from the waist down.
The question was, however, was it the pain that was making him hard or the image of Joe West, bare-chested and sweaty, trash-talking and laughing and teasing him like they'd been friends since childhood that he found so arousing?
Deliberately blanking his mind, Harry pushed at the bruise on his hip and then the one on his shoulder. There was no spark of arousal there. It wasn't the pain. He wasn't a masochist.
But apparently he was attracted to Joe. And that thought his body definitely liked.
Harry was grateful that this S.T.A.R. Labs, unlike his own, had private stall showers. The hot water felt good on his bruises and his hand felt even better on his cock. He closed his eyes and let his imagination run wild.
Joe, laughing and punching him - not in anger, not even competitively. Just a friendly fist to his shoulder, a comradely gesture. Harry shivered and pulled on himself.
Joe, pushing him to his knees, holding him by his hair, making him beg. For his cock, for everything. He leaned against the wall and imagined how Joe would taste. It had been a long time since he'd been with another man.
Joe, bringing him coffee and donuts in the morning, a Big Belly Burger in the afternoon, and a glass of scotch in the evening. At that last fantasy, Harry came hard. Harder than he had in a very long time.
So he wanted Joe West. Any apparently wasn't just a sexual thing, because he seemed to find the idea of getting fed and cared for by Joe was a hell of a lot more arousing than the thought of sucking his cock.
He rinsed himself off and tried to think like a scientist. Maybe this was just a one-off thing? Some anomalous reaction triggered by a combination of adrenaline and endorphins?
And then Harry laughed. He knew he was lying to himself. But the problem was, how long could he lie to everyone else?