Chapter Text
“It's Allen, isn't it,” Eddie said.
His voice held no emotion when he said it. It was matter-of-fact. For all his inflection, he could've said anything from 'grass is green' to 'dogs are mammals'.
Iris chewed her lip, trying not to picture Barry in her bed, shirt askew. He'd been right, Eddie was a good guy. He deserved a polite break-up. And that was something Iris was struggling to do.
“It's always been Barry,” Iris said. “I...I wish I'd been able to be honest with everyone sooner.” She analyzed him for a reaction. He was so incredibly calm about this.
“Iris, you're an amazing woman,” Eddie said, a smile growing on his face. “You deserve to be happy.”
She'd known that he was a good guy. Lots of guys were “good guys”. But this was so genuine. So heartfelt. Iris had really tried to make things work with them, but her heart had never really been in it. Not when Barry was always being flaunted in her face.
Maybe, just maybe, if Barry had stayed in the coma longer, she could've truly cared for Eddie. She could've been the 100% loyal girlfriend a guy like Eddie deserved. But Barry had woken up, and she'd wanted to keep him by her side more than ever.
“I really hope someone comes along and makes you as happy as Barry makes me,” Iris said. She pat Eddie's shoulder. She got up, leaving Eddie on the couch.
Eddie flipped open the case file laying on his coffee table. The irony. Iris was the person who made him happiest. And he was the one who was about to make her the saddest.
The blood report from when the Flash had beaten Eddie had come back. The blood hadn't belonged to Eddie, which meant that it had to belong to the Flash. Eddie had sent it to a private lab for privacy. It had just come in today, identification verified.
Barry Allen was going to jail for vigilantism.
Iris wasn't used to being forced to wait for sex.
Normally, she dictated the speed of the sexual aspect of a relationship. Usually her partner was ready and she wasn't. So they just had to sit around until she felt comfortable enough for them to put her hands on her.
She'd thought Barry would take her that very night when she'd given him the news. He'd kissed her, tasting of cinnamon and coffee. His large hands had rested lightly on her hips. But then he'd walked her to the door and told her that he'd pick her up for dinner tomorrow.
Iris had gone all out with her makeup. She knew Barry liked it when she wore her deep violet dress, so she'd laid that out. But what about underwear? Would Barry make her wait a few weeks before making a move or would they get desert to go? What sort of underwear was he into anyway? Iris picked her maroon lace set. She liked the way it looked against her skin.
Now that she thought about it, Iris had no idea what exactly Barry was into sexually. Most guys would give the whole T&A answer. Of course Barry was going to say something different. Or would he? Iris tried to pick out a single instance where she'd caught him looking at a woman's...something.
She'd never seen Barry ogle. Was that because he was too busy ogling her when she wasn't looking? Iris slid her hands over her body, tingles all over her skin. She liked that. The idea that every time she'd wished for him to be thinking of her, he had.
Iris descended, knowing that Barry's eyes were all on her.
She hadn't thought that Barry would be so...dapper. He wore a white shirt with a black suit jacket. His hair had been smoothed back, just the way she liked. Iris nearly tripped coming down the steps.
“You two look nice,” Joe said. “What's the occasion?” He was leaning in the kitchen doorway, beer in hand. He wore the jersey for the football game that was on.
Barry stepped forward.
“Joe, I'm going to take Iris on a date, but I'd like your blessing,” Barry said. Joe's confusion melted into a laugh. Joe wagged a finger at Barry.
“And that is one of many reasons that you are the only one I'll ever approve of,” Joe laughed, heading to the couch. “Have fun you two.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Iris asked.
“Barry, what do you keep in your top dresser drawer?” Joe asked, turning the TV on.
“Socks. Underwear. Pajamas,” Barry said.
“Anything else?” Joe pressed. He started flipping through channels, trying to find his game. He paused on a hockey game that was erupting in a brawl.
“My mom's wedding ring,” Barry said. “Some moth balls?”
“Where do you keep your condoms?” Joe asked. He left the hockey game for his football game.
“I don't...have them,” Barry said, rubbing his arm. “I've...never needed one.” Iris connected the dots. Barry was a virgin. He'd waited for Iris all this time. Iris wished she'd jumped him at junior prom. Wished that when he'd gone off to college, that she'd sneaked into his dorm and made love to him.
“And that is why Barry is the only guy I've ever approved of,” Joe said. “Only guy you've ever known willing to wait fourteen years just to date you.”
Iris got up on her tip-toes, kissing Barry on the mouth.
“I love you, Barry Allen,” she said. “Let's go to dinner.”
“Mm, that tiramisu was to die for,” Iris moaned, slipping into the passenger side. Barry watched her long legs as she slithered in. He loved it when she wore violet. But when she was in cranberry-
He'd always pretended like he wasn't overly fond of the color. He knew Iris would never stop wearing it just because of him – she knew her skin looked all the more lovely with it. But she'd slightly avoided it. Barry had never mentioned that all his near slip-ups had been when she'd been wearing some variety of maroon.
“I know, right?” Barry asked.
“Whose car is this?” Iris asked, touching the dashboard.
“Dr. Wells',” Barry said. “He's still deciding if he want to sell it or have it rigged up for him to use.” Iris poked around. She laughed, pulling a box out of the back seat. Barry pulled out of the parking lot, attention taken by the road.
“Friction proof condoms?” Iris asked. “Why would you want to take away that? Oh, there's a note. It says 'I caution restraint, Mr. Allen'.”
Goddamnhim. God. Fucking. Damn. Him. Barry was trying SO hard to romance Iris, to give her everything she deserved in life, and Dr. Wells was sticking his nose into this. Right after the old man had watched Barry chastise Caitlin and Cisco for trying to give him advice on sex with super-speed.
Well, Barry was also sort of doing it for himself. To have the first date he'd always dreamed of. But wouldn't Iris want this too? An evening of beauty and luxury?
“So are we going back to your place?” Iris asked, coy smile on her lips.
It wasn't that Barry didn't want to have sex. Ever since he figured out that he could hear Iris masturbate from his room, he'd been jerking off, wishing it was him giving her those pleasures. Every time he masturbated, he thought about her. Her milk chocolate skin rubbing against his.
Barry swallowed hard.
“Well, it's the first date,” Barry said.
“That's what you think?” Iris asked, leaning over. Her rose perfume wafted into his nose. “Barry, we've met up once a week since high school. We've been dating a while. Let's let this night end differently than all the others.”
Put that way, it was difficult to argue with her. Perhaps a compromise.
“How about a nightcap?” he suggested. “I've got some gin back at my place.”
“Sure,” Iris purred.
Barry paused in front of his door, key in hand.
When was the last time he'd picked up? Did he leave those boxers on the floor? When was the last time he'd cleaned out his fridge? He turned to Iris, heart hammering.
“Can I have you wait out here for a minute while I pick some things up?” Barry asked. Iris rolled her eyes.
“I've seen your dirty laundry,” she pointed out. “I've washed your dirty laundry.”
“Humor me? Please?” Barry begged. Iris sighed.
“Fine,” she said, leaning against the far wall. “One minute. And then ready or not I'm coming in and messing you and your apartment up.”
Barry could live with the idea of Iris doing that. He slipped into his apartment, turning on the super-speed. Short of running a vacuum, he considered the job done. He opened the door. Iris was lounging against the far wall, looking rather bored.
“Welcome to my lair,” Barry said, pretending to twirl a mustache. Iris pushed off the wall, rocketing towards him. He caught her, receiving a kiss. She still tasted like tiramisu. Barry shut the door behind him.
“I thought you were coming in for a nightcap,” Barry said. Iris pouted.
“Maybe I'd rather drink you up,” she said. “A shot of Barry Allen for me.” Barry turned away from her, euphemism making it harder to pour Iris a drink. Part of him wished alcohol would work on him, but he also didn't want to drink and then have whiskey dick.
Iris came behind him, arms wrapping around him. “I'm sorry.”
“For what?” Barry asked. “It's been an amazing evening.”
“Guys always get blamed for pushing girls for sex,” Iris said. “And here I am doing it to you. Listen, Barry, if you're not ready, just...tell me.” Barry chuckled.
“It's not that I don't...want sex,” he said. “I've been wanting this for fourteen years. Now that you're here, it sort of feels like a dream. Like at any second you're going to vanish.”
He turned, handing Iris her drink. She downed it, licking her lips.
“I'm not going to vanish,” Iris said. Barry set his full glass down. He took Iris' empty glass, setting it down next to his.
“Are you mad?” Iris asked. Barry turned, kissing her like she'd never been kissed. Barry's lips felt like they were on fire, searing her own, trailing down her neck to her collar bone and back again. He pulled her into his bedroom, laying her on his neatly made bed. Iris kicked off her shoes.
Barry ran his hands over her curves, one hand finding the zipper of her dress. He slid it off, gasping.
Cranberry underwear.
Even if Iris walked out that moment, saying that she never wanted to see him again, Barry could die happy. It contrasted perfectly with the cream and coffee color. He slid his hands over her legs, savoring the color of her skin. He still knelt, dress in his lap.
“God, Barry,” Iris crooned, sliding a leg over his shoulder. “Where did you learn to kiss like that?”
Night after night of imagining it, he thought, pulling off his tie.
“Since it's my first time, do you mind if I...take over?” he asked. Iris touched the tie.
“The safe word can be 'taco',” she said. “Agreed? And you have to take off your shirt.”
“Agreed,” Barry said. He had his shirt off in just a moment. Iris gasped, tracing his abs with a foot. She sat up, reaching for them. He caught her hands, tying them to the headboard.
“You'll get your turn,” he said.
“When did those happen?” Iris asked. Barry didn't answer, instead, he straddled her, kissing the tops of her breasts. He unclasped her bra, sliding it up to the headboard. He worked his way down, licking the undersides of her breasts. She gasped, moaning and squirming beneath him. He bit beneath each ever so gently, pulling a particularly loud cry each time.
He kissed his way down her navel, hands conforming to the arch of her back. He caught the panties with his teeth, pulling them down. For a moment, he met eyes with Iris.
“Like what you see?” she teased, panting a little. Her legs shook. Barry ran his hands over them. They were well-shaped. Not too muscled, not too soft. And there, glistening between them was what he'd been waiting to see. He could catch glimpses of Iris as she walked to her room in a towel. He could see her traipse around the pool in a bikini. But he'd only had hints of this.
She was this lovely coral color. She glistened there, clearly liking what he was doing so far. He leaned down, tasting her. Iris moaned. Her legs shook a little. He had to hold her legs apart to get a better angle.
He stuck a finger just inside her. She was so warm. Slick. He pressed up, just inside. It would be as if someone pressed up on the wood panel inside a doorframe. Only this panel was part of a very large, very important part of female pleasure. He massaged it slow at first, gaining speed and pressure as he continued.
Iris thrashed, moaning. Barry replaced his tongue with a well-lubricated thumb. Other males always wanted to see a woman suck dick. Barry didn't currently care much about that. Instead, he wanted Iris to be consumed by him that she lost all presence of mind. To be only able to think of him and what he was doing to her. Her face in rapture.
“Barry, fuck me,” she whimpered.
The instant Barry let her go, she was on him.
She didn't know when he'd removed his pants, but Iris was more than happy that they were gone. She sat on top of his erection, taking all of him in. Had he always been so big? Her legs shook still from the sheer ecstasy he'd bestowed on her.
He rolled on top, snaking his tongue into her mouth. He gripped her close, hands running over her back. His whole body was burning hot, filling her again and again. It was as if each thrust had been calculated to hit every sweet spot, sending electricity crackling over her skin.
Iris pulled her mouth away, gasping for breath. When she did, she heard her name chanted over and over in her ear. Barry's warm breath wafted over her neck, sending chills down her spine.
“Barry, I'm- I-,” she gasped. She'd come so many times, but this one was different.
“I am, too,” he choked.
They shook together. Iris released the pent-up-ness she'd been holding in. It flowed out of her, spurting all over Barry. He grunted, shuddering. He gave her two more thrusts. He held her hips, keeping himself inside.
The two collapsed, panting.
“Where did you learn to fuck like that?” Iris gasped.
“Scientific journals about the clit,” Barry chuckled. “How'd I do for my first time?”
“First time?” Iris gasped. “There's no way a fuck like that was your first fucking time!”
“I guess,” Barry said. “If you're talking about all the times we've done it in my head.” He kissed her.
“You have a vivid imagination,” Iris said. “Any other tricks?”