The Flash - Swimming Into the Slipstream

[elrhiarhodan]

Title: Swimming Into the Slipstream
For: MMOM - Thirty (One) Dirty Words – Day 12 (Prompt: Fantasy)
Author: elrhiarhodan
Fandom: The Flash
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Barry Allen
Pairing: Barry Allen/Harrison Wells | Eobard Thawne
Spoilers/Episode References: None
Warnings/Enticements/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~600
Summary: On the nights when Barry can't sleep and he doesn't want to run, he lets Harrison Wells take over. At least in his mind.

Author's Notes: Written for Day 13 of the 2017 Edition of Merry Month of Masturbation, for the prompt "Fantasy". Title from the Jethro Tull classic "Slipstream".

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Barry touches himself and tries not to think of him, of his strong arms in the tight black sweaters he favors. He tries not to think about that mobile mouth, the lips that are more stern than smiling. But when they do smile at Barry, he feels as if he can race around the world endlessly.

Harrison Wells.

It's a name that Barry finds himself whispering in the still, quiet hours of the night, when the electricity in him body makes sleep an impossibility, when all he wants to do is run. And sometimes he does run. But more often, Barry takes himself in hand and lets himself think about the man who's given his life purpose and meaning. Who believes in Barry Allen without question.

"You can do this, Barry. Now, RUN."

Those words echo in Barry's mind and he cups his cock, teasing himself through the fabric. He tries to focus on those words, the heart-pounding encouragement, the unwavering belief, but Barry finds himself distracted by blue eyes and that messy mop of dark, curling hair that frames a face that meets no defined criteria for beauty. But is beautiful nonetheless.

Barry touches himself through the soft fabric and tries to blank his mind against anything but the touch of his fingers sliding, teasing, toying with his cock, letting the wetness soak through the fabric when all he wants to do is shove down his sleep pants and reaches for a bottle of lotion and fist himself hard.

But Barry doesn't. He can't stop thinking about Doctor Wells, about everything that he wants him to do to Barry and he feels a hot flush of shame. Barry wants Doctor Wells to strap him face down on a machine - something he might have Cisco make for them - just so he can fuck Barry. Hard. Or maybe he makes Barry kneel at his feet and forces Barry to suck his cock.

He makes Barry gag and cry and he bruises Barry's throat so he can't speak for days.

Except that Barry heals too quickly and Doctor Wells just keeps forcing Barry to deep throat him for hours on end.

Barry squirms against the sheets and finally pushes down his sleep pants. He's hard as bone, and freed of the constricting fabric, Barry's cock slaps hard against belly. He doesn't need lube - he's leaking like he never has before.

Behind his eyelids, Barry sees Doctor Wells, eyes glowing like blue lasers behind his glasses. He's leaning forward, intent on Barry, intent on watching Barry pleasure himself.

"Fuck your fist, Mr. Allen. You can do it. You will do it, Barry."

And even though this fantasy feels like the worst kind of betrayal to the man that Barry respects above all others, Barry doesn't stop. He strokes himself hard, pulling at his balls, squeezing his cock. It's what Doctor Wells wants him to do.

"How much can you take, Mr. Allen? How many times can you come for me?"

Barry whispers into the sweaty darkness, "As many times as you want."

FIN