The Flash - Call Out My Name

[elrhiarhodan]

Title: Just Call Out My Name
Author: elrhiarhodan
Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014)
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Harrison Wells | Eobard Thawne; Eobard/Barry Allen
Spoilers: S2.17 – Flash Back
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: Rough Sex, Dubious Consent
Word Count: ~2000
Beta Credit: Kyele/Timeforalongstory
Summary: Eobard is haunted by the sound of his name. It doesn't help that the first time he hears it in fifteen years it'ss from the lips of his enemy.

A/N: Written for Day 02 of Fic-Can-Ukah, for @Hisaminimi. They asked for the prompt: "He called you by your real name" and for EoBarry

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"Let me out of here, Thawne."

It's been five days since that abomination – that future version of the Flash – had returned to his own timeline. Five days and that's all Eobard can hear.

Thawne.

That it's been fifteen years since someone has called him by his real name isn't lost on Eobard, and the irony is compounded by the fact that his name had fallen from the lips of his enemy. How appropriate. After all, he'd surrendered his name and his identity because of the Flash. It’s only fitting that the Flash be the one to use his real name. And to say it with such loathing, such love.

Thawne.

It's a seductive syllable, and if he doesn't exert some discipline over his hungers, he'll spend the day in tortured arousal, trapped by the wheelchair and his masquerade. It's bad enough that Barry – his Barry – looks at him with questions in those wide, innocent eyes. About time travel, about speed, about why this future version of him seems to hate Harrison Wells.

But his Barry is smart enough to know that seeking those answers could be dangerous. Deadly even.

He at least has the comfort of knowing that the future remains intact. Barry Allen still disappears in a decade. And if the future Barry is to be believed, Eobard's own plans come to fruition.

That's almost as arousing as hearing his real name.

"Doctor Wells?" Caitlin interrupts his musings. "Are you all right?" The good doctor is very protective of his health.

"I'm fine, Doctor Snow. Just contemplating the future." That's a poor choice of words.

Caitlin looks like she wants to ask questions, but her natural reserve has the upper hand over her curiosity.

"I think I'm going to head home – or home, such as it is." He's taken a suite at the Fairmont, the finest hotel in Central City. He can't live in his house in the forest, not when the roof is gone, thanks to Hartley Rathaway and his sonic gloves. And it turns out that the penthouse suite can accommodate his wheelchair. Not that he actually needs those accommodations, except that people would notice if a man in a wheelchair used a conventional hotel bathroom.

"Would you like me to drive you? It's no problem."

"No, Doctor Snow – you are most kind, but I'll be fine." If there's one thing he truly despises about this masquerade, it's the aura of helplessness it perpetuates.

"Sorry – I know that you hate it when anyone treats you as less than fully independent."

Eobard schools his face into a gentle smile. "Truly, Doctor Snow – it's fine. And your offer is appreciated, none the less."

Within a half-hour, he's settled into the suite. It's a pleasant enough luxury and it will suffice for the time it'll take for the glass roof to be replaced – another few weeks, at least.

Alone and secure in his privacy, Eobard stretches out naked on the bed. He doesn't try and fight the arousal now, not when he's free to revel in all of the feelings.

Eobard closes his eyes and summons the memory.

"Let me out of here, Thawne." He can see Barry Allen chained to that infernal wheelchair. In the still and unfamiliar privacy of an expensive hotel room, Eobard enjoys the sight of those eyes glowing with hatred, those legs spread, inviting him to take what can't be freely offered, not with everything that lies between them, too many centuries of anger and mistrust and animosity. Eobard’s cock hardens swiftly, almost painfully as he thinks of everything he could have done to that future Barry Allen, so beautifully trapped.

"Kill me, Thawne. See how this ends." The challenge that Barry spits out at him, the checkmate from a player he’d thought had no skill at the game... that, more than anything, arouses Eobard. It means that in the ever-nebulous future, he's taught Barry Allen well. Not just about speed, but perfidy. How to move his pieces on the board and turn disaster into triumph.

Eobard strokes himself and lets the fantasy play out.

Barry's chained and he keeps trying to free himself, he's getting more and more panicked to the point where his whole body's vibrating. Eobard has no intention of killing him, not even out of self-preservation. There's something dishonorable about killing his great enemy like this. But teasing him is such a delight. He vibrates his hand and rests it over Barry's heart, enjoying the boy's terror. He's fighting now, one handed and Eobard is even more delighted at Barry's speed and strength.

"Let me out of here."

"Say it."

Barry's brow furrows in confusion. "Please?"

Eobard laughs and it feels so damn good. "Stop being such a fucking boy scout, Mr. Allen. You know what I want to hear."

Barry licks his lips. "Let me out of here, Thawne." He puts a deliberate emphasis on that last word, drawing it out.

The heat rises in Eobard's cock. "Again."

Barry leans his head back against the wheelchair and their eyes lock. "Eobard Thawne. You are Eobard Thawne."

Eobard almost comes – in both the fantasy and his own hand.

In his fantasy, he presses his thumb against the lock and the cuffs snap open. He waits for the Flash to spring forward, but Barry remains motionless. If anything, he becomes pliant, open. Eobard wonders if this is a trap.

Eobard has to snark, "You can't kill me, you know. Not if you don't want to destroy the timeline and wipe everything out of existence."

"But I can fuck you." Barry's eyes fill with lightning and in an instant, Eobard's back is against the wall and Barry has a knee between his thighs, grinding hard. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Eobard can't answer for the hot rush of lust. He'd never, ever thought about that – about submitting to the Flash, letting the Flash fuck him – and now he can't get it out of his head. So he does the only thing he can.

He strikes out with his fists and his speed and Barry responds with the same. The fight is short and terrifying and then Eobard's face is pressed against the wall and Barry's pressed against him.

"You've spent fifteen years fucking with my life, I'm going to fuck with you. I'm going to fuck you."

He can feel Barry's cock against his ass, hard and insistent.

And Barry's lips are at his ear. "You want this so much, don't you, Thawne? I bet if I just keep saying your name, I can make you come in your pants. Would you like that?"

Eobard makes a strangled sound. It's not a whimper, because Eobard Thawne doesn't whimper.

"I could make you come again and again and again, because you're a speedster. You have no refractory period. I can drain you dry and make it happen all over again, until you beg me to stop."

Barry – this Barry – is evil. Far more than the well-intentioned superhero that Eobard battles in the future. That man's a do-gooder, a savior, a rescuer of kittens and puppies and children. That man would never pin his enemy against the wall in a secret chamber and thrust his cock up his enemy's ass.

With that thought, Eobard reaches for his own speed – as diminished as it is – and breaks free. This is not his Barry or even his Flash and the very idea of letting this abomination fuck him is as vile as it is irresistible. The fight resumes – around and around the Time Vault in some crazed and violent waltz. It ends with the chair shattered, his wheelchair upended, and Eobard on his knees, face to the floor, his speed almost depleted.

Barry is smirking, reveling in his greater endurance. "Unlike you, I can keep going. What do you say I give you want you want, Thawne?"

Eobard bites his lip, hard enough to draw blood. He won't give this Flash the satisfaction…

And yet, it's impossible to hide his arousal. Barry's hand is cupped against his cock, not squeezing but vibrating with such delicacy that he's phased through the fabric and his palm is resting on Eobard's hard and aching flesh. Eobard knows he's going to give in, but he still has his pride. "I've taught you well, Flash."

"That you have, Thawne."

Eobard gasps, not just from the torment Barry's hand is inflicting on him but from the sound of his name.

"Eobard Thawne. The Reverse Flash. Such a slut." Barry nips his earlobe, hard and quick. He draws blood and sucks it clean. "Tell me you want me to fuck you."

Eobard is dizzy from lust.

"Tell me, Thawne. Tell me what you want."

"Fuck me, Flash. Fuck me dry." Eobard surrenders because he can't imagine this monster letting him go without taking what he wants. He tells himself to submit and bear the pain, except that it's a lie. He wants this as much as he wants to go home, as much as he wants to win. As much as he wants to live.

He wants to the Flash to fuck him because that has always been his most secret, most vile dream.

The rest of the fantasy shatters into a million bright white pieces as Eobard comes in his fist. It's like part of his soul has been ripped out. No, no – it's as painful as the instant he was struck by lightning and became a speedster. Painful and glorious and a moment that will live in his memory for the rest of his life.

Drained, Eobard opens his eyes and is mildly disappointed to find he's in a hotel room. Alone.

The fantasy echoes in his mind and Eobard can't stop the rising tide of shame. He's never submitted to anyone in his life, and to do so to the Flash, of all people, is horrifying. And yet, he can still hear Barry Allen saying his name. He doesn't think he'll ever stop hearing it.

The sound haunts him while he showers off the stink of lust; it haunts him as he sips the extremely indifferent scotch from the minibar; and still haunts him in the breathless pauses of Beethoven's violin concerto that fills the room with sound.

He won't sleep tonight. He might possibly never sleep again.

Then Barry calls His Barry – and he feels … reborn.

"Hey, Doctor Wells."

"Mr. Allen, is everything all right?"

"Fine, just a little worried about you. It can't be fun living out of a hotel."

This Barry, his Barry, is such a sweet delight.

"No, but I'll be okay." Eobard can't help but hear the roughness in his voice. He must have screamed when he'd orgasmed.

Barry sounds so concerned, and he's sweetly tentative when he offers, "I could come over, keep you company."

"I'd like that." Of course he would.

"Shall I bring anything?"

Eobard grins. "A bottle of lube. Anything else will be … superfluous."

Barry's gasp is perfectly audible and Eobard relaxes into fresh arousal. He's going to fuck his Barry – take his mouth and make him choke and then come all over his face. Make his Barry come and come again, until he's begging for "Doctor Wells" to stop and make it better.

"I'll see you soon, Mr. Allen."

FIN

Comments

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Hot and totally wonderful!