by Shrift & Te

Te: Sometimes, GL thinks about groping Flash just to shut him up.
Te: A thumb on his lower lip. A hand on his ass. On his cock.
Shrift: You. Are evil.
Te: As for Wally... well Wally sometimes has to shut up even though he's ungroped. Because John has those arms. With the tattoo.

USMC. Like there's anyone who could look at John and not know he was military.

Maybe it's just for the stupid people, though. The ones who wouldn't pick up on the rigid spine or the glares, or the whole, "I can do push-ups with one pinky" thing.

Flash isn't too bright, but he's picked up on that. He gets bored pretty easily -- big surprise -- and GL's pretty much the only one willing to humor him, which is actually a surprise. Wally considers it a matter of courtesy (okay, survival) to humor him back, and.

He discovers that he likes John. Bad-ass military guy, and could somebody get more opposite than him?

And it's not just that Wally has a thing for men in uniform, because if he did, he'd always be hard. But maybe he has a thing for John in uniform. Or in clothes.

In nothing at all works pretty good, too. But he can't quite imagine it, because John always looks so dressed.

This, naturally, leads to a lot of looking, because he always gets the worst ideas when he's bored and horny. It's a mission of looking, because John has to be naked sometime, and Wally's the fastest man alive, right? Should be easy. But he kind of forgets about the fact that, while he's fast, he's not really good at subtle.

In fact, he's actually kind of bad at subtle, in that way where he sometimes thinks he should ask Batman for lessons or something, because the fourth time John catches him loitering outside the showers...

Well, John doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to, he's got the glare working overtime, and it's making Wally feel like a horny twelve year old with his hand in the teacher's underwear drawer, or something else traumatic and.

"Steam. Like. I like steam." He smiles as innocently as he can.

John glares.

And innocence is really freaking hard to hold on to sometimes, like those times when you're not innocent at all because John is wearing a towel.

A tiny, damp towel.



Wally swallows.

John glares for that slightest bit longer, then just... shakes his head and walks out. Wally doesn't watch him leave.

He doesn't watch John leave.

He is... the PINNACLE of not watching John leave until he just isn't anymore because John's ass.

Is under a towel.

And, okay, so terry cloth is, like, way less revealing than the uniform, but... it's the principle of the thing.

And suddenly? He really needs a shower.

There are a couple of things Wally can't do fast. He pees just as fast as anybody else, and he never, never uses speed hands on his cock.

Not after that first time, anyway.

But it doesn't matter, because once he's out of his clothes and under the hot water where John's just been, he knows he's not gonna last long. Shoulders braced against the wall with his hand fisting his cock, eyes squeezed shut, and pretending he's not alone.

It only takes about a minute or two of imagining John crowding him against the tile, scowl fierce and water trickling down his face, John's big hand pulling and squeezing him tight enough to make his eyes roll back in his head. John just holding him down and holding him open, and making him need it so much that he wants to beg. And then he's coming --

-- and shit, that totally didn't help the naked John thing at all, did it?

He sags against the wall for a moment, knees a little wobbly and his muscles twitching.

It's possible that Wally needs to get out more. Because now he's got a really good mental image of what John looks like under those clothes, and he has the feeling he's gonna be seeing that mental image even if John dresses up like a nun.

Wally blinks.

Okay, maybe if he dressed up like a nun. Because going there? Not so much.

It wasn't a cross-dressing thing so much as a shoulder thing.

He uses the shower for its intended purpose, dresses quickly, and gets the hell out. And for a while, whole hours, even, he's okay. He's good.

He has the whole don't-stalk-John thing down.

But then he's eating linner (post-lunch, pre-dinner, natch) when John walks in and sits across from him, and snags one of his hot dogs.

And really, he distinctly remembers when that action wouldn't have made him lose his mind, but John is just... looking at it.

Frowning at it, like the hot dog had maybe pissed him off in another life, and Wally knows he should be saying something, or making a joke, or at the very least still eating, but.

John. Glare. Hot dog.

"Do you know what's in these things?"

And the glare is on him.

Wally swallows a suddenly dry and useless wad of bun and beef by-product. "Uh."

"It's criminal."


He makes it to his room, or at least he hopes it's his room, because his hand is in his pants and his other hand is the fist between his teeth keeping him from yelling down the tower.

And John's glaring, yeah, but not at the hot dog.

No, John's eating the hot dog. John is the star of the ridiculous soft-core porn in Wally's head and he's just.

John's on his knees, mouth open and eyes flaring like alien sunrises, and Wally can't stop, can't stop pushing, can't stop thrusting --

He bangs his head back against the door and risks opening his eyes. Stereo, check.

Magazines, also check.

Empty bags of Doritos -- thank God, it's his room.

It occurs to Wally that he might be in trouble.

Sure, he's always been a little hyperactive and weird, but this is like a Red Flash Diaries kind of weird. And it's not like he can just quit, because how can he quit cold turkey when it's something he's never had?

Right, so. Maybe all he has to do is not think about sex. Except purposely not-thinking about something usually leads to thinking exactly that something, like sex and John and sex with John.

So. Distraction. As in, finding one.

Outside of Wally's room, there's really nothing fun to do in the tower. At least, not unless you're Batman.

After Hawkgirl threatens to break every bone in his body, he realizes that it might not be a good idea to roam the hallways, pestering the rest of the team. Physical pain is one thing, but Wally knows that Batman? Is the type to get revenge. And Wally's man enough to admit that this terrifies him.

Of course, before he can figure out whether he should do something useful like save puppies, make a rare appearance at Lulu's Limbo Lounge, or deliver iced mochas to the touring Hawaiian Tropic girls, disaster strikes.

End of the world. The apocalypse. The final straw that breaks his ass.

Man, the infamy.

Somehow, possibly because Wally is standing next to them and cramming Ho-Hos in his mouth, Hawkgirl gets it in her head to explain the words 'monosodium glutamate' to Wonder Woman. And in his opinion, her language is a little harsh, what with all the "brain damage" and "seizures" and "anaphylactic shock" stuff. He protests, and maybe a bit too much, because Diana lassoes him to the refrigerator door and makes him watch as she gathers up every last scrap of junk food in the tower "for the good of the team."

She's so thorough that it's like the Grinch has come to ruin Christmas for all the Wallys that live in Wallyville, because when Diana finally lets him go, there isn't anything tasty left to eat in the kitchen.

Sure, Batman's protein powder and wheat germ are still in there, and hey, maybe that's why he's always in such a bad mood?

"'You'll thank me for it later,'" Wally mutters to himself, his nose leaving streaks on the observation window.

Thank her for what? Speeding himself into an early grave, wasting away like sand through the hourglass? She spaced his Fritos!

"Aw, man, no!" he says, watching his brand new box of Swiss cake rolls spin into outer space.

"You never know," John says from behind him. "Eating healthy might make your powers stronger."

Wally startles hard, bonking his head against the window and getting a serious case of Scooby-Doo legs. "Ow."

GL stands beside him and crosses his arms. "It's your own fault, you know. You've been acting stranger than usual, and you're the only one who eats that garbage."

"Oh, yeah, right, that's what Superman wants you to think. His stomach must be invulnerable, because even I don't touch the Twinkies."

John just raises an eyebrow. Wally suddenly gets the mental image of John sucking a Twinkie into his mouth, and he freezes, torn between the intense need to goeatfoodnow and the intense desire to fuck nownownow.

He whimpers. John blinks at him, and then he reaches out, and --

"I --" Wally says, and then runs for it.

And wow, way to be subtle, Wally. Way to not arouse suspicion. But man, he can't help it.

John was about to touch him, and sure he was going to do it in that GL-needs-to-see-if-I'm-injured way, but that didn't matter because there was all this stuff. Going on in his head.

And Wally hasn't had nearly enough time to put the "Jesus Christ sexy" thing in a box away from the "Ooh, hero stuff!" thing, and now he's screwed.

So screwed.

So completely, utterly, wonderfully...

On his back, on his bed, and the sheets are rumpled and kind of uncomfortable under him, but that doesn't matter because his legs are spread and his tights are down around his thighs, and yeah, he's screwed, but not enough.

Fuck, nowhere near enough, because he's hard, so hard that all John would have to do is touch him, but this is his fantasy and the fingers sliding all hard and insinuating behind his balls.

Aren't his.

John is there, John is touching him, teasing him, pressing harder and going farther than Wally does, or usually does, anyway, because he would and Wally wants him to, hears himself begging for it even though there's no one there, even though it's just his own too-dry finger sliding up inside and his own mindless fist pumping his cock, and this is going to kill him.

This want-not-have thing, and it was bad enough when his hands were good enough, but, fuck, he wants John.

Wants him.

Wants that sly, soft mouth and those... those fucking ridiculous shoulders, so perfect to hold on to and --

"... right, I've had just about enough of --"

*Bang* goes his door and *eep* goes his mouth and *freeze* goes his body, because John is standing right there.

Highlighted in his open door and staring at him. Wally's tights are still nowhere near covering anything up, and not even utter and possibly FATAL embarrassment is enough to stop his dick from being hard, hard, hardest because it can fucking sense John's in the room, and it's completely thrilled with the turn of events.

John blinks. Stares.

And his mouth is open, just a little, and Wally can't stop himself. His arm hurts from the effort of trying to stop himself, so Wally gives up and strokes. Stares right back at John and strokes, and okay maybe his hand isn't so bad, after all.

Or maybe it's just better with John right there, taking away the need to say anything at all.

With John watching him and narrowing his eyes, and flaring and.

Closing the door.

"Oh, God."

John next to the bed.

John on the bed and watching his hand pump, and making this tiny, incredible noise when Wally goes back to fucking himself with his finger.


And it makes him arch, makes him struggle against himself because he needs to be naked even though he also needs to just keep doing what he's doing.

"Wally. You..."

Hands on his wrists, tugging, and Wally whimpers and his cock is hard against his belly, brushing against the uniform top, and it's not as important as John's hands. On him.

John's eyes wide and almost desperate, staring into his own like Wally has every answer in the world.

And he doesn't. He doesn't have anything but need.

"You have to tell me... do you want this?"

"Oh. Oh, fuck, yes."

But John hesitates, like he's not sure if Wally's just narrating his personal porn soundtrack, or something. And Wally makes this frustrated whine in the back of his throat, because, okay, hands good, but he can't help thrusting up into the air between them. One of them to be touching his cock, please.


And John's hands tighten on his wrists, his eyes fucking radioactive.

John smiles, and it's this evil, little smile that isn't making Wally nervous so much as.

Ready to beg. Anything, just --

"Touch me." Because he can't move the way he wants to with John's big, warm hands holding him down, but he's greedy.

John moves in this slow, deliberate slide. Moves up and over, and kneels between Wally's legs right on top of his tangled uniform and.

Now he really can't move the way he wants to.

John. Tease. Going to kill him.

Wally's pretty much making nothing but embarrassing want noises right now, and he can't really care because.

John finally moves, so slowly that Wally can feel the heat off his skin before John finally settles in between his legs. Just covers him like this big electric blanket. With muscles.

John's face is close. Watching. Breathing on him. Still smiling.

Wally opens his mouth, because goading -- he's good at goading. But John's already a step ahead, moving in for the kill. Or for a kiss, but they're really the same thing right now. Soft lips and insistent tongue, kissing hard and deep in that messy, nasty, wanttofuckyou way that nobody who looks at John would think he could do.

Okay, Wally's been hoping.

And John just keeps kissing him, hot and wet, the constant catch of lips and rougher tongue, and the sharp bite of teeth. Wally breathes through his nose and rubs, like, his entire body against John because he can't be still. His cock is trapped between them, making John's uniform damp, and it feels like a thin layer of nothing but it's driving him crazy.

He wiggles some more and oh. John's hard, and that's just. The fucking hottest thing ever.

It makes him go a little crazy. With the kissing back and the rubbing. And he's holding onto his speed so hard Wally can hear it humming, but he wants to be here, and he wants it slow, and.

John's voice in his ear, hands loose on his wrists. "Do you want me to fuck you? I want to."

And that makes him just lose it, vibrating so fast and hard under John that it takes a minute to figure out that he didn't just come, and then he has to whimper again, toss his head and clutch at John's shoulders and John actually looks worried for a second.

"Wally, are you --"

"Oh Jesus Jesus John. Do it, come on, fuck me, I can't. I can't wait --"

And John's growl should be illegal on multiple planets, but it's exactly what Wally needs to hear.

Forces himself to move, to let go long enough to grab the battered tube of lube from under the pillow and forces it into John's hand.

"God, you use this... you use this here?"

"All the time. Need more. Thinking about you, your body -- John --"

And he thinks it could break him to see John's hands shake like that, to not be able to do anything about it but want. But then John's slicking his hand, getting it shiny and wet, wet like his mouth, and it's all Wally can do not to just wrap his legs around the man and hold on.

But then -- fuck.

Fingers so cool and so wet and pushing so deep, and Wally whines high in his throat and thrusts back.

Does it again because it feels so good, because John's growling again, sweat on his forehead and eyes in perma-glare mode.

And Wally's body is just one big yes, because he could come like this, just like this, cock bouncing against his belly and John's fingers inside him, and John's other hand on his hip, holding him still and steady, and oh fuck yeah.

Making him take this. Making him feel it.

"I could just watch you..."

And oh, God, John has the best ideas, John's a smart man with smart, flexing fingers and. "Want you to, anytime --"

"God, Wally --"

"You could -- watch me come for you. Watch me need it, John, fuck you feel so good --"

Hard push and this twist and Wally's vibrating again, shaking himself apart and holding on to the bed for dear life because John's turned on. John wants this, wants him --

"Want me oh God you want me --"

Hard squeeze to his hip and John's shaking his head and looking almost hurt, but Wally knows that look now. Knows what it means and if he had any room in his soul to be anything but turned on to the point of death, it'd make him happy.

John yanks his uniform down just enough, and Wally angles his hips up and catches the first push almost before he's ready.

Gasps and John gasps and --

"Be ready. Wally --"

And there are no words, because John slides in, slow but not slow enough, not fast enough, spreading him open and turning him on, and making him need so bad.

And John just stops there, catching his breath and shaking a little, too. Reaching up to stroke Wally's face and fuck, he still has the mask on and he can't handle that at all.

Rips it off and John gasps again, even though they've seen each other. Even though they know each other, and there's a hand in his hair, tilting his head back and his face up for another one of those mind-destroying kisses.

John, John groaning into his mouth and starting to move, and Wally has to break the kiss to yell because it's perfect.

Better than anything he'd ever come up with. Better than the shower, the Twinkies, everything, and John rears up above him and slides out slow, and then pushes in fast and hard and Wally yells again.


And there's a look on John's face like he wants Wally to be quiet, like something like that is even humanly possible, but then it fades into this pure, raw hunger.

Darker than his skin and twice as addictive.

"You feel -- inside me --"

Hand on his dick, big and hard and implacable, and John's thrusting faster, fucking harder, and Wally can't do anything but cry out more and beg.

"Please. Please just... oh fuck --"

Thumb over the head of his dick and John's dick in deep and it's never felt like this. Not even close.

"Gonna. Gonna make me come --"

"Do it. Show me --" Strangled little groan and John pumps faster, pumps his hips, and Wally has to feel it.

Feel those muscles working, that hot, sweat-damp skin. Has to pull John in tighter, deeper -- "Oh God --"

Comes all over John's fist and his own belly, white-out taking away all higher brain functions, everything but more and faster and --

"Wally --"

"Come inside me, I want --"

Hard, hard kiss and John's fucking his mouth in the same rhythm, the same exact rhythm, and this is perfect, so perfect, and Wally wraps his arms around him and wraps his legs around him, and holds him there, right there, until John cries out into his mouth and comes.

Doesn't stop thrusting, doesn't stop kissing, and the sounds are even hotter now, even dirtier, and Wally wants to ride him, wants to chain John to his bed and never, ever let go.

Wally squeezes harder and kisses with everything he has, holding John until he slows, until he stops and makes a concerted effort not to just fall on Wally that Wally does his best to thwart.

His best is very good.

And for a while, they just lie there while their lungs catch up, John's weight pressing him into the mattress. Skin still pleasantly warm and sweaty, and all tingly underneath the surface. Well-used. Mm.

John chuckles, and the little vibrations ripple out from where his nose is pressed just under Wally's ear and he can feel it in his toes. "You like steam?"

"Hey. You try being coherent when you're wearing a towel. I'm wearing a towel. Never mind."

John lifts up a little on his elbows, as far as Wally lets him, which isn't far at all. He doesn't say anything, just tilts his head and looks with those eyes like he's reading Wally's mind. Except this is John, not J'onn, and thank God, because J'onn doesn't need to see what's in his head right now.

"It's just -- you, with those arms and the glare and your ass, and yes, I like steam."

John's staring at him with gentle amusement, but he doesn't mind, because it's the kind of look that means the more he talks, the more John wants to shut him up by making use of Wally's mouth.

And. Mouth.

"I could kill for some Doritos."

John rolls his eyes. "Kill yourself, maybe."

He whimpers. Dignity is for people who don't fear the wrath of Amazon princesses.

"Why can't we be in the alternate universe where she bakes cookies?"

John snorts at that, and then he smiles. Wally's never really noticed before that John smiles with his entire face.

"This dimension isn't so bad."

And. That's almost nice, and it makes him a little suspicious.

Wally squints at him. "Yeah?"

"There could be evil, mind-controlling gorillas."

And Wally thinks hard, really hard about smacking John in the head, but... he settles for squeezing him.

"Just you wait until I go into snack food withdrawal, big guy. I'll make evil gorillas look like a cakewalk."


Silverlake: Authors / Mediums / Titles / Links / List / About / Updates / Silverlake Remix