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Len sat transfixed, staring at his screen until it became blurry and indistinct. It wasn’t any one thing per se, but many little things. His epiphany could easily have been attributed to the fact that Nerd had somehow seemingly regressed to the awkward tentativeness that plagued their earliest conversations, and the fact that his regression reminded Len of The Flash’s off-balance distractedness just hours ago, but as Len sat there, with unseeing eyes and his panic rising he suddenly harbored no doubts.
There was a chance that Mick’s comment about the two of them needing a room, not to mention the way his heart nearly stopped at Barry’s pained cries, accompanied by his own not so recent obsession with Barry, and more so recent obsession with ColdFlash, with them being together, had caused him to jump to an extremely hasty conclusion. Still, regardless of how much time passed his convictions only became stronger.
Nerd’s ability to capture his likeness, not just physical features, but his quirks and nuances… it couldn’t be. It was impossible, yet Occam's razor; the simplest explanation is often the correct one, and while this was hardly a simple situation, it left him with only one explanation.
NerdsDoItBetter was The Flash, he was Barry Allen.
And once that thought fell into place, Len almost couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to figure it out. Nerd was The Flash. Was Barry. And Barry was… Barry was in the same situation as Len. Barry Allen was shipping ColdFlash. And suddenly, the rest of the dominoes began to fall into place from that realization. All of the pining Len had started to do, secretly wanting Barry, opening up to Nerd, confusing himself in the process--everything that had felt so unattainable, just daydreams that would never be realized, all of it was suddenly, alarmingly, possible.
And just like that, Len knew what he had to do. He had to write a scene, a fic, a magnum opus--a something . Something that would tell Barry that he knew the truth, that he wanted this, for real, if they could have it together. Something that couldn’t be mistaken, but wouldn’t be understood by anyone else but the two of them. The perfect ColdFlash fic.
If only he had some idea of what to write to accomplish that.
Len always planned for everything. His backups had backups; plans from A-Z, if just to spite Lewis. There was always a contingency in place. He counted the seconds, accounted for variables, outliers; everything.
Everything, until he’d come back to Central City.
First The Flash.
Len had been intrigued, impressed even. It had been a real game changer, a chance to really push the envelope. He had been thrilled. Going toe to toe with The Flash had been more exhilarating than any rush he’d ever felt in his life. The kid kept him on his toes, made him feel young again; alive. Mick had called it an obsession, maybe it was, but it hadn’t been the kid per se, it had been everything else.
Len readily accepted this new challenge: may the best man win.
Then Barry Allen.
Extraordinary didn’t even begin to cover it; even now there was no single word in any language worthy of the Scarlet Speedster, of Barry Allen. Gorgeous but innocent. Righteous but angry, fueled by passion. An impossible beacon of light who knew darkness. Foolish but smart. A contradiction in every sense of the word. All consuming; intoxicating.
No, Len wasn’t willing to leave, he loved this town, it was his home after all, besides it was just starting to get interesting.
Underestimating the kid was a mistake, one Len had made time and time again. The kid was an outlier, a variable Len could hardly understand; their deal was just the beginning.
It was a chess master playing against an amateur, yet a natural. You’re planning five moves in advance. Thinking you’ve won. Checkmate on the tip of your tongue. A single move. Then you’re back to square one; surprised, confused, wondering if your way, which has worked flawlessly for so long, is the right way; the only way.
Ferris Air had been a disaster. Barry coming to him for help was surprising in its own right, without the fear and panic that gripped him when it all went wrong. Len had just wanted to get him in check, not end the game, or so he told himself.
If that hadn’t been enough, along with the guilt he had to unexpectedly squash down more frequently than he cared to admit, Barry had surprised him again, and left him with a debt he could never repay. Saving Lisa from Lewis, something Len had failed at for longer than the kid had been alive, until he decided never again.
The surprises didn’t stop there. Barry had visited him in prison, after it was all over. Not to gloat, not to threaten him, not even to emphasize the fact that Len owed him now, but to tell him he believed in him.
“There’s good in you, Snart.”
Len had been prepared for their next encounter. It was his turn to visit Barry. He’d had it all planned out. Giving him enough info to survive the encounter, but not enough so as to convince Barry that the good he saw in him was a delusion. Encouraged him to ask for his help so he could deny him, but Barry Allen struck again.
“Well, you’re doing a pretty lousy job of being a villain this week.”
The Flash, Barry Allen, was full of surprises. There was no earthly reason Len should have been surprised by this new development, not in the least, but he was.
Of course, NerdsDoItBetter was The Flash, he was Barry Allen—the reason Len was sitting on his bed, with his laptop and more tabs than he thought possible open, notebooks and crumpled paper scattered everywhere; beyond frustrated.
Len had started what he was beginning to think of as more of his plea rather than any kind of offer. Mostly likely because he was beginning to feel a bit desperate.
Looking back, it was hard to believe he hadn’t seen it right from the beginning. Those gorgeous drawings that first caught his eye; so intimate, yet somehow still so innocent. That was the first time his chest ached with something he refused to give a name. He ignored it.
The drawings were bad enough, or amazing enough, that he decided right then and there to stay away from the romance side of things, at least in writing. He should have probably sworn the drawings off too, but he didn’t, he couldn’t. Then the kid sent a message asking for permission to tag him. Of course he said yes, and Len imagined Nerd blushing, just because, and actually smiled when he informed the kid his latest fic was in fact inspired by his work as well as he suggested tit for tat.
Len was nothing if not thorough and extremely unsurprised to find that the few fics the kid had written were also romance. He resisted the temptation to read them. If they stirred a fraction of what the drawings had… better he not.
There was the pun war, in which Nerd hadn’t done half bad, but Len was a pun master. The “there’s good in him” battle, which Len of course denied vehemently, yet who else would fight that with just as much conviction as Len rejected it aside from Barry Allen?
Now that he knew, it was all so obvious, though it still felt a bit surreal. Sure, Barry believed he was good somewhere deep down inside, but Nerd had actually liked him, which meant Barry actually like him.
That was not something he would have imagined in his dizziest daydreams. Well, maybe more so in his dirtiest, but it had never occurred to him it could actually become anything more than that, no matter how bad he wanted it.
Len was certain Barry knew it was him too, which somehow seemed to up the ante. Despite the other continuing their friendship, and seemingly making attempts to let Len know, dropping some pretty obvious hints, he was beyond nervous. Len was worried that what he was doing now, or trying to do, would mean losing all of them—Flash, Barry, Nerd—if it wasn’t done right.
The problem was he had no idea what was right.
Len had spent the last few hours clicking through artwork and fics hoping something, anything would call to his muses.
Most of his bookmarks were PWP, not that there was anything wrong with smut for smut’s sake, more than one of his own fics were nothing more than that, but right now, it made him cringe a little. Barry was the man responsible for the sickly sweet domestic headcanons that made Len want more, and crave things he’d long ago dismissed as a possibility for himself.
Len imagined Barry clicking through his bookmarks once he knew, along with all of Len’s actual work, and it caused a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. This compared to the artwork and the fics of Barry’s creation, made him feel as though the chances of his proposal being accepted were slim to none.
The idea of “letting off some steam” with his nemesis, or passionate anger fueled sex during or after a heist was hot. The kudos Barry left on his work told Len that Barry thought so too, but that’s not what he wanted to ask for. Truth be told he wasn’t exactly sure what he was asking for.
A chance, maybe, which was definitely more than he deserved, but something he would readily accept if Barry gave him the opportunity.
As many times as Len stopped and started anew, one would think he’d at least have an inkling as to what he planned to do, but he was just as lost as he’d ever been. Unlike with everything else in his life, writing was something that sort of just happened. It started with a concept or more often than not a fantasy, a wet dream, then it went from there.
Normally weaving words and ideas together was as natural as breathing. His muses danced, made demands, and Len obliged, but this time his muses were silent, just as nervous as he was. Telling him that wouldn’t do this time. This was too important.
With a drawn out sigh he closed the tab displaying his works and clicked on the one displaying Barry’s artwork. The ache in his chest was nearly unbearable.
The first drawing was sweet, yet somehow heated, causing fire to pool in his belly. It wasn’t explicit, not in the obvious sense, but there was something about it, probably the eyes, that spoke to him. Shouted at him really. Made him want more.
Now that he knew it was Barry’s it made a hell of a lot more sense.
The next was his favorite. He was—was being the operative word—sure that was a result of the details put into the bike. His bike. Another glaring hint he’d missed, too busy being wrapped up in the rest.
The gorgeous shy blush that graced Barry’s cheeks, who was pinned between him and his bike. The fire in his own eyes that mingled with a longing he knew all too well and a warmth he’d long thought himself incapable of. Soft, sweet, sexy, innocent, intimate, loving—it was all there.
That’s what Barry wanted.
Len found himself wanting it too against all odds. Yet, he still wasn’t wholly sure he could be what Barry wanted or deserved. As the villain, Captain Cold, that probably shouldn’t have been a concern, but as Len… well that was a different story.
The caption below the drawing caught his attention. It was nothing more than a “inspired by this” but Len found himself clicking on it regardless. If it had inspired Barry maybe it would inspire him too. A new page opened, and he almost laughed when the fic popped up. One he’d seen on every rec list, but never read.
“Don’t Think, Just Feel” by NerdsDoItBetter
Only Barry could make romance, love, and the potential for major heartache so sexy and appealing, even to him. Reading it wasn’t even an option at this point. The stakes already felt too high. The drawing had already been enough to cause the vice around his chest to tighten considerably… better he not.
Instead he found himself clicking on the kid’s bookmarks. He hadn’t looked at them since before he received his message. He was pleased beyond what he probably should have been at finding his own work. Almost everything he’d written had been marked and saved. It made his heart flutter. Not that it wasn’t always flattering when someone enjoyed his work enough to rec it, or save it to read again later, but the fact that Barry had done so meant more to him than he could put into words.
Len’s smile faded as he continued to scroll through the rest. It was no surprise to find romance or even smut, hurt/comfort, angst, friendship, but a lot of the smut he saw that wasn’t his own was tagged bottom!len. He’d seen a lot of the fics before, and even read some of them. Most had overtones of dominance with dubious consent, but some he remembered, concentrated more so on the equality of the action. The concept of partnership, mutual respect, if not love.
Just reading the summaries sent a shiver up his spine.
Len wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea. He’d fingered himself on more than one occasion, thinking of Barry no less, when the mood struck. It was more so the amount of trust required with something like that. For him anyway. The idea of sex had always been much more appealing to him than the actual act if he was being completely honest with himself, until now.
Sure, he’d had more than his fair share, and was quite the skilled lover, but the idea of giving over control, letting it all go, just feeling, wasn’t something he’d ever thought of doing, let alone put in practice.
Len trusted Barry though. He’d trusted him with his sister’s life, his own life. In comparison trusting him with his body wasn’t something that seemed so monumental, but to him it was. Suddenly it was something he wanted. Touches designed for pleasure instead of pain; Barry’s touches.
He just wasn’t sure if he could, or how to do it.
Barry wasn’t the problem here, Len was. He knew that, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t hard to push it away. He wanted more than anything to show Barry that he wanted more than just a quick fuck after a heist, or a no strings attached kind of thing. There were more strings attached already than he cared to count, but he saw no way of letting Barry know any of this, until now.
Bottom!Len
Clicking the back button, he wondered what exactly the right approach was. If there was a right approach for something like this. There had to be. Len needed there to be, but he was drawing a blank. Then the title of the fic that led to his newest revelation drew his eyes once again.
“Don’t Think, Just Feel”
Easier said than done for a man like himself, but this time as he gazed at the words, Barry’s words, it struck a whole new cord. Len remembered questioning himself for the first time in what felt like forever after meeting Barry. Questioning what he saw as the right way, the only way, as opposed to another way; Barry’s way.
Planning certainly hadn’t been working in his favor. He could hear a version of the written words in Barry’s voice as he closed his eyes trying to do just as they asked.
“You think too much, Len, let it go, just feel.”
They were whispered, spoken close enough that he could feel Barry’s hot breath ghosting across his flesh leaving goosebumps in their wake. Easing his tension, his frustrations, compelling him to comply, promising pleasures he could scarcely imagine. Barry’s fingertips tracing tattoos and scars in such a way he didn’t want to pull back, but never wanted it to end. Gentle, but insistent. Possessive in the best way imaginable.
Wet heat as Barry mouthed his way across Len’s jaw and down his neck, pausing only to nip and suckle at the sensitive flesh just above his collarbone before making his way back up to capture his lips in a searing kiss. That lithe gorgeous body pressed against his, hardness to match his own grinding into his thigh as he was guided onto his back. Not too forceful but adamant, lips never losing contact. Hands roaming, caressing, teasing.
Being pinned wasn’t something Len let happen, ever, but right now, if it were to happen like this, with Barry, he found he actually wanted it. Bodies aligned, hips grinding, delicious friction, hands caressing and kneading whatever was within his reach. Letting himself be encased, consumed by everything that is Barry Allen.
“Just feel,” Len repeated to himself already half hard feeling as though he’d made more progress in the last few minutes than he had in the last few hours. “Just feel.”
Len was struck by inspiration of sorts as he whispered Barry’s words to himself. His way certainly hadn’t been working, and it’s probably not what Barry meant, but it was working.
After a brief moment of hesitation Len made his decision. He needed to try another way, Barry’s way. Just feeling, a new sort of brainstorming.
Len put his laptop on the floor before quickly rolling on his side and reaching into his bedside table. His cheeks flushed as his hand closed around something he’d almost forgotten was in there. Sex toys weren’t something to be embarrassed about, but this wasn’t your average everyday run of the mill dildo.
This was a Captain Cold dildo; freezer safe and everything. At one point in time it might have surprised him, but after actually being part of the fandom, not so much. It wasn’t so much having a sex toy made in his likeness, if that’s what you would call something like this, that had his cheeks burning, but how he found out, and the thoughts that it conjured afterwards.
Mick thought it was hilarious. Len had wanted to simultaneously kill him and ask where he got it, wondering if there was some sort of Flash vibrator on the market. After Mick left chuckling and mumbling to himself about ColdFlash porn and vibrators, Len had looked.
Anyone else would have done the same in his position, so he didn’t feel too awkward about it. There was a Flash vibrator and awful ColdFlash porn along with fics and artwork. It was almost overwhelming and so unbelievably hot. Len had blushed as he stowed the dildo in his bedside table thinking he’d much rather have had the vibrator, but couldn’t find it in him to buy it for himself.
Keeping the dildo was one thing, but buying The Flash vibrator, that was whole other story.
Another split second decision made and Len was sliding the electric blue dildo under the mound of pillows, because Barry ran a bit on the warmer side. If you’re gonna do something might as well do it right.
A wave of nervous anticipation ran through him as he peeled off his shirt and tugged his sleep pants down his thighs causing his cock to twitch before he stepped out of them. This may not have been what Barry had in mind, but Len wanted to thank him regardless. Len wondered if the thought of him getting himself off while imagining Barry fucking him would make Barry as hard as it was making Len.
Len decided yes, absolutely yes as he climbed back on the bed, kneeling as he popped the cap on the lube.
Len fisted his cock giving it a few loose pulls before leaning forward onto his elbow as his other hand slid behind him. Between his cheeks a slick finger circled his tight hole. Closing his eyes, he pictured Barry, full body flushing, eyes darkened with desire, lips and tongue trailing down his back, murmuring praises. Teasing, tickling, circling with one hand as the other rolled his balls gently in the other. Not quite pushing in, just enough to make the ring of muscles quiver.
Balancing on his shoulder, his other hand trailed down his body to match the actions of fantasy Barry.
A grunt he couldn’t help escaped him when he cupped his balls and his slick digit pushed in to the second knuckle. He imagined Barry groaning at the feel of his tight heat, as he pulled out before pushing back in, a little deeper this time.
An honest to god gasp escaped him as he repeated the action. It was no longer his own finger, but Barry’s tongue fucking into him. His legs shifted farther apart of their own accord, his cheek and shoulder pushing into the mattress, hips tilting forward, exposing him in the most alluring way as Barry’s tongue breached his body, lightly grazing his prostate.
His breath hitched and he bit down on the comforter as he added a second digit. Barry’s tongue replaced with his long slender fingers. Thrusting in and out at a leisurely pace, deeper now, stretching him, scissoring, crooking to find his sweet spot.
Len’s cock was rock hard, aching already, the tip glistening with pre-cum. He resisted the urge to stroke his shaft, wanting this to last. Instead, he used his other hand to spread his cheeks, tilting his hips farther, opening himself up, adding a third finger. It burned, but in a good way. Biting into the comforter was no longer sufficient to muffle the sounds.
Barry’s voice, low and husky against his skin as he leaned over Len alternating between praising him, filthy promises, nips and kisses.
The question as to whether or not he could do this seemed a bit silly now, at least where Barry was concerned. With Barry he could, with Barry he ached for it.
Len’s breath was coming out in short gasps as fingers pumped in and out of him, stretching him, jabbing his prostate with every thrust. White hot heat coiled in his belly, even without touching his weeping cock, or the vibrating he was praying was a thing.
Still, it wasn’t enough. Len wanted more.
He pictured Barry pouting as he pushed back up onto his elbow, his fingers retreating, Len missing them as soon as they did. Smirking and kissing Barry as though it was a promise.
“I thought you wanted to fuck me, Scarlet?”
Barry’s eyes widening in surprise along with his already dilated pupils. His answer a shy but somehow enthusiastic nod. His blush deepening, a shade Len previously thought impossible.
“Good, I want you to fuck me too.”
Len rolled back onto his side slipping the electric blue dildo out from under the mound of pillows, his mind wandering, wondering what Barry tasted like. He imagined a heady scent and the slightly bitter taste of pre-cum on his tongue. Both somehow something so uniquely Barry.
Wrapping his lips around Scarlet’s cock. Forcefully sucking him all the way into his mouth until the tip hits the back of his throat.
The noises Barry would make. Blunt nails scraping over his scalp searching for purchase. Fucking into his mouth with minute thrusts, eager, but afraid of choking him. Digging his own fingers into Barry’s taught ass encouraging his thrusting, swallowing as much as he possibly could, tongue massaging the sensitive underside of his cock until he came undone in his mouth. Hot spurts of cum hitting the back of his throat. Swallowing every last drop.
God Len wanted that so bad. He hoped the no refractory period was a thing too.
Len scooted farther up the bed to rest his shoulders against the headboard. His knees bent, splayed wide, hips tilted, groaning as he ran the slick dildo down his shaft, across his balls, before pressing it against his stretched hole.
He imagined Barry would be warmer, hotter, even against his own now sweat slicked skin.
His eyes slid closed as he slid the dildo inside himself, imagining Barry’s gasps and moans mingling with his own. Len tried to force himself to relax, picturing Barry nibbling on his own lower lip while watching Len carefully, making sure he wasn’t hurting him, yet with a fire in his eyes reserved solely for him.
Scarlet leaning forward with gentle kisses; distractions. Intermittently muttering how good Len was doing, how good he felt wrapped around his cock until he was fully seated. Breathing just as hard as Len was, dying to move, forcing himself to remain still, giving Len time to adjust. Whimpering and biting into Len’s shoulder when he finally did.
Slow, smooth, deep strokes. Gentle, but precise. Sliding almost all the way out before pushing back in. Filling Len in a way he wasn’t sure he could get enough of. Building a rhythm, only speeding up when Len’s hips started bucking to meeting his thrusts.
Barry pushing up on his hands to hover over Len. His own cheeks flushing as he watched Barry watch himself fuck into Len with hooded eyes. Changing the angle of his hips so his cock brushed along the entire length of his prostate eliciting a broken moan.
Asking Len if he liked it. Smirking down at him when a drawn out moan and an enthusiastic nod was his answer.
The sounds of Len’s own husky breathless voice begging for more amongst a litany of ‘fucks’ and ‘harder’. Barry’s entire body flushed and glistening with sweat, but eager to give him what he was asking for. Propping himself on his elbows, leaning in for a sloppy kiss, before pulling back again when he felt Len’s ass clench around his cock drawing the sexiest noise yet; a mixture of a whimper and a moan.
Lithe fingers wrapping around his leaking, aching cock as Barry picked up the pace, pounding into him. Holding his eyes, knowing they were both right there without words. Firm long strokes in time with Barry’s thrust. Len unable to help bucking his hips to meet them. Grateful when the muscles in Barry’s neck and chest tensed, unable to hold off his own release much longer.
Cumming with Barry’s name tumbling from his lips, coating both their abdomens with his hot release. Feeling Barry do the same seconds later; after one final deep thrust, a garbled version of his own name tumbling from the Speedster’s lips.
Len let out a tired groan as he slid the dildo from his body once he regained his breath. That was hotter than any actual sexual encounter he’d ever experienced, and his softening cock actually twitched at the thought of making it a reality. It was nerve wracking, but exciting at the same time.
Barry Allen by far would be the most thrilling thing in all his 43 years if he didn’t fuck it up.
If he was a master thief, he was the king of fucking up anything good in his life, which was probably why he fought this for so long. He couldn’t let that happen though, not this time. He was determined not to. Len would be and offer everything Barry wanted or needed, and thanks to Barry, he knew exactly how he was going to do that.
Len’s muses danced, made their demands, and he obliged. After having no direction or plan as to what exactly he was going to do, it was almost dizzying as to how fast it all came together. His fingers flew across the keyboard, a small smile gracing his lips as the butterflies in his belly danced faster than his muses.
There was no doubt in his mind that this was the most important thing he would do in his life, and while it was terrifying, he now held hope that there was another way, even for someone like him; a better way.
With that final thought helping quell his nerves and butterflies, though less so, he tagged NerdsDoItBetter and hit post.
XXXXX
Len didn't think too much on it, or maybe he'd already thought on it enough, either way it didn't feel like a completely conscious decision as he gently cupped Ryder's face, which was a gorgeous shade of satisfied and slightly embarrassed. He knew there was a small smile on his own lips, and for once he didn't try to hide it, though he wasn't wholly sure he could have if he wanted to.
It had been everything he thought it would be and so much more. Maybe more than he bargained for, because his chest ached at the sudden uncertainty in Ryder's eyes.
Slowly, so as to give the other man a chance to say no, to pull away, to freak out, or maybe decide this was a huge mistake, though no matter what happened now this would be one of the few things in Len's life he would never regret, he leaned in to press their lips together. There was so much Len left unspoken, unsure of how to say it, but he wanted to show Ryder what he and this meant to him. No one, including himself, thought the thick layer of ice that encased Captain Cold's heart could be melted. Not until that moment, not until it did.
Len didn't normally do gentle, but for Ryder, he was suddenly aware he would do just about anything, or at least he would try.
It felt like a new plain of existence, so surreal, but like all the missing pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. Len put everything he couldn't put into words into the kiss. It was deep in a way Len had never experienced. Gentle, but not careful. Sweet, but powerful. Passionate, but unhurried. It was everything.
A contented sigh escaped him as Ryder finally gently ended the kiss, if that was even the right word for it; it felt like so much more somehow, looking a bit sheepish, though smiling in such a way that Len's heart fluttered. For a long moment hazel held icy blue, each unable or unwilling to look away. Len tried to memorize every detail of Ryder’s face submitting it to memory, never wanting to forget a single freckle.
"Len I..." Ryder broke the silence first, but trailed off as if his own voice surprised him.
The kid’s nerves were back now that the post orgasmic bliss had receded.
I know," Len replied quietly, because he did.
Ryder wore his heart on his sleeve. "But I..."
"I know."
"You know?"
"I know."
Len caressed the side of Ryder's face, gently pressing their lips together once more before meeting his eyes, holding his gaze leaving everything unveiled. Letting him see what he'd kept to himself from the moment they met. Len knew Ryder saw it when his thousand-watt grin returned and his eyes sparkled in a way that took Len's breath away.
" I think it's time we make a new deal, Scarlet."