Justice Kink #1
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Please visit the new post here.
Our Other Posts:
JK#2 • JK#3 • JK#4 • JK#5 • JK#6
Please read the rules before you start posting.
Some highlights to remember:
• Post your prompt anonymously
• One prompt per comment
• If you prompt try to fill
• No kink shaming
• In ( Read more... )
And this was wrong, so very, very wrong, but he couldn’t stop - or was it wouldn’t? It didn’t really matter, because his nephew’s mouth was warm and wet when he pushed his tongue into it and pulled Wally as close as he could in the water, even though the stupid waves were making their bodies bob apart every few seconds. Seconds that felt like years until Wally’s legs locked around his hips and the boy moaned and pushed his tongue up to curl around Barry’s own.
The loud moan cut through Barry’s hazy thoughts for a moment, long enough for his super-speed brain to realize that they were on the beach in broad daylight in front of Mount Justice where anyone could see them, hear them. But then Wally ground his hips into Barry and the thoughts were gone, because League be damned he was going to fuck this boy. He wanted to see Wally fall apart, listen to him cry and scream and moan with Barry’s cock buried in him.
Wally moaned and thrust again and Barry latched his teeth onto the boy’s neck, one hand pulling Wally’s legs off him, the other working as fast as he could to get their trunks off without completely dislodging them from each other. And it was flesh on flesh, everything happening so fast, but fast was good. Fast like this was something he craved. It was good, so good, time slowing down around them as his nephew rutted against him in the cool ocean water, each slick slide of wet skin making him twitch and groan as he nibbled his way across Wally’s shoulder. It was only as his hands gripped Wally’s hips, fingers sliding around to clench into supple cheeks (runner’s cheeks, oh God, oh God ) that his brain managed one coherent thought. They couldn’t get any farther here, because water does not good lubricant make and spit would work in a pinch, but not where it would just wash away.
Barry pushed back through the water until he could sit on damp sand, waves moving in to lap at his hips, but never cover them and he was going to have sand in very uncomfortable places later, but worth it, worth it, so worth it. He bit down hard on the junction of Wally’s neck and shoulder, his nephew’s loud wail cut off abruptly as he stuffed three fingers in his mouth. Not that he didn’t want to hear Wally’s noise because they were good, so good. But they would have to wait until next time - because there would be a next time, Barry could already feel the addiction curling through his system like a drug-induced high - when no one would hear and then come and see and take Wally away from him. Because they would take Wally away (should take him away, far far away so Barry wouldn’t do this again again again ).
The fingers popped out of Wally’s mouth with an obscene sound. The first finger he wiggled in was accompanied by a gasp, the second by a high pitched whine of pain and Barry slowed by half a second to push and scissor, feeling the muscles loosen and twitch. The third finger went in with a strangled yelp, quickly followed by a muffled keen and teeth digging into his shoulder as Wally shoved himself down hard onto his fingers in an attempt to push them back into that wonderful little bundle of nerves and Barry needed to be in this boy five seconds (hours) ago.
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“Please, please yes, need, please. Yes. Need need. MOVE!” The last word of Wally’s jumbled litany was shouted, a demand that echoed in Barry’s ear and sent a rush of energy down his spine until his hips jerked and Wally moaned desperately. Sucking in a quick breath, Barry pulled his hips back as far as he could while sitting in the sand, gripping Wally’s hips tightly and lifting, then drove them back up, shuddering from the friction and Wally’s hands digging into his hair, clenching at the damp blonde strands.
It was heat and speed and his nephew’s breathy moans and gasps. Barry needed, needed it to be faster, to burn hotter. He needed white hot release and Wally’s screams, but quiet, quiet so he could bring them somewhere else later, where they wouldn’t be foundcaughtheard and he could see how many sounds he could get Wally to make. And he ached, felt so good, in out inoutin, with small hands moving from his hair to curl around his arms, slender hips twitching in his grasp as they tried to push down and move, ride him faster. Barry could do faster, faster.
“Please, please, close, so close.” Was being panted into his ear, Wally’s voice gaining a high-pitched crack at the end of each breathy word as his body started to tense. Barry’s eyes latched onto Wally’s face, onto those dazed green eyes, wanting to see his nephew lose it. One, two, three more rapid thrusts and Wally is tensing, his eyes scrunching shut and mouth dropping open with a strangled cry as liquid heat spatters across Barry’s stomach.
“Uncle Barry!”
It was the cry that did it (and later it would be what haunted him as he slept curled with the lanky teen in sticky sheets while Iris was away). Not the noise - though it was delicious - or his name - though that was partly it - but the uncle, with that tone and the choked off half-moan (hell, hell going to hell ) and he would never be able to look his wife in the eye again. Barry came with a muffled grunt, pressing his face against a quickly fading bruise on Wally’s neck. His body twitched, tensed and released until all he could do was flop uselessly down onto the sand and drag the ginger on top of him down too.
For long seconds all that could be heard were harsh pants and waves lapping softly, the sun beating down on two over-heated and twitching bodies. Barry could have contented himself with lying there the rest of the day and not thinking about what had just occurred - because it was an awefulwonderful badgood that he just wanted to lie in forever. But the sound of a car in the distance (the tell-tale rumble of the Batmobile and Bruce would murder him if he saw them like this) had him up and whirling around, finding their trunks and pulling them on. Wally wobbled a little on his legs and Barry wrapped an arm around him for support just as the black tank of a vehicle came around a corner and slowed its approach to the mountain. The window rolled down and Batman stuck his head out, a frown twisting across the lower portion of the face.
“Heya, Bats,” Barry called out cheerfully with a small wave. “Wally and I are gonna head home for the day. Think the kid got too much sun.”
Batman stared at them for a long moment (and he knows, he knows, Barry knows that he knows), then nods and leans back into the car, continuing to drive after a calm “make sure he gets lots of water.” Barry waved and hauled Wally up into his arms and running for Central City, even though they were still only in swim trunks. Anything they left at the mountain could be picked up later. Because that had been way too close. And the house was quiet and empty and Barry knew he wasn’t done damning himself just yet.
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Oh gosh, can't believe I just wrote that, gonna go hide now....in my bed....
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Barry/Wally is a weakness, and I loved the way Barry completely fell apart in this story and knew what he was doing was wrong...but he did it anyway. :)
I am joining Barry in that special hell. :)
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Wally and Barry's sudden desperation is exactly how I picture this ship. And the Batman appearance at the end - haha, Barry, of course he knows.. - was very cute.
*sends you lots of affection* Thank you, anon!
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