Disclaimers: One of them. I'll settle for one.

Spoilers: Very, very shallowly for "Eclipsed." This
takes place in a kind of second season nowhere time,
really.

Summary: John's honest. This works for Wally.

Ratings Note: NC-17.

Author's Note: This is for Weirdness Magnet, who has
sent me stuff! Like, a lot. Including TOYS! We like toys.
Almost entirely inspired by this pic.

Acknowledgments: To Jack, Weirdness Magnet, and
Livia for audiencing. Special love to Jack for helping me
out when I abruptly discovered that I'd already *written*
something called 'Easy.'

Feedback: Always. leytelj@gmail.com

*

The surprise isn't the sex, or how good it is, or that it's
with GL -- none of which Wally would have expected back
when John was just the New GL with a serious case of s
tick-up-the ass.

It had taken about three orgasms for Wally to get used
to that stuff, and since it hadn't even been *morning* by
that point...

No, the surprise is that he *is* used to it.

That he knows when GL is just stopping at his apartment
to top off the ring before flying Wally someplace else, and
when he's stopping off because he wants Wally there,
and *wants* Wally *there*. When GL slips off his face
like the mask he isn't wearing and there's just John, and
the way John looks at him, and the way he stands just
that close.

On the rooftop, in the stairwell where anyone can see, in
front of the couch.

John's the most honest man he's ever met, more even
than Superman, because, yeah, Supes is a boy scout
(with disturbing... lapses), but it's not like he'd ever talk
about his *feelings* unless it was with someone he was
really close to. And even then, maybe not.

John's open about everything. He just... there's
something about him that just doesn't give a shit.

He hugs people, he fully admits to crying sometimes,
and he doesn't... he doesn't hide a thing, not ever.

It's not just the lack of a mask, or of anything
resembling a *secret* identity.

It's the way he strokes Wally's face before kissing him,
and then does it again after pushing off the mask. Eyes
wide and the lines of his face all soft, and Wally has
never doubted how the man feels about him.

He doesn't think he *can*.

And yeah, that's a little scary, but it's not like John
pushes. He doesn't ask for any declarations, and he
doesn't say a word about the fact that Wally hasn't
given any -- or even given him any *looks* about it.

He just makes it abundantly clear in about nine million
ways how *he* feels.

Like this is all something surprising to *him*. Not the
sex so much as... it's hard to express.

Harder when John sits back on the couch and tugs
Wally's hand until he straddles him. There's something
wide and wondering in John's eyes at times like these,
like maybe *he's* never going to get used to it, not all
of it, and never wants to.

"You make me feel old," is what falls out of his mouth
before his brain catches up with him, and John's hand
pauses halfway up Wally's thigh.

"Mm?"

"I..." He waves a hand. "It's not... it's not a bad thing."

John nods at him and lets it go, looking down at his
own hand, obviously pleased at its progress, or maybe
just at the way it looks, dark against red.

Wally can't say he doesn't agree.

Thumb stroking over the crotch of the tights, and God,
just that makes him hard. Harder.

At first it was because it was *sex*.

Now it's because he knows it's just the beginning.

"John."

"Yeah..."

Not an answer so much as *agreement*, and then the
other hand is sliding up Wally's *other* thigh, and
breathing isn't easy. Nothing is easy but pushing up
against those thumbs, but reaching back to brace his
hands on John's knees so he can arch a little more.

John makes this noise, something between a purr and
a hum, and one of those thumbs is stroking the shaft
of his dick, up and down and up, and the other is
rubbing little circles on the head.

"You're gonna make me stain another suit."

Low, pleased little laugh. "You can take it off." Harder
circles.

Wally gasps and squeezes John's knees. "Really
can't."

"Is that so?"

Wally blinks and forces himself to focus. John is
looking at him like... that's another thing John's really
honest about. Kink. Jesus. Wally licks his lips and waits
for it.

"Then *keep* your hands there," he says, narrow-eyed
and smiling.

"Oh man..." and he doesn't know how he was going to
finish the thought, because now John is cupping him,
riding him with the heel of one hand and pushing the
top of the suit up with the other one, rucking it up
until Wally's nipples are exposed.

Biting him there, one after the other and then back
again, and again.

"*Fuck*."

"Hmm...?" Not even trying to sound innocent.

"Just... just don't make me come in my pants."

"I *like* it when you come in your pants."

Yeah, and *that's* not a surprise. Wally grins. "You
probably have no problem taking come-stained
clothing to the cleaners, do you?"

"It's their *job* to get rid of stains."

"God, I --" Love you, he doesn't say. Shakes his head
and bites his lip, instead, but John's expression still
gets a little softer. Wally can feel himself blushing.

"What am I going to do with you, hmm?" It's --
mostly -- a sex question.

Wally arches back a little further, bending his arms
and swiveling his hips. "I've got some suggestions."

"Yeah?" John hands slips back between his legs,
pressing and stroking.

"*Fuck*, yeah and also don't fucking *stop* --"

At which point John of *course* stops, because he's
a bastard. "Stop what?"

"Fuck. *Fuck*," he says, just exactly as articulately as
he can.

"Wally."

"Yeah." He's practically gritting his teeth.

And then he's not, because John's kissing him again,
leaning up and in and reaching around to catch Wally's
arms when he starts to move.

Suddenly, it's the most unfair thing in the universe
that he can't cup John's face, and that *had* to be
the man's point. Wally puts it into the kiss, instead,
sucking John's tongue in little pulses and not even
trying not to moan.

It occurs to him that he'd probably be hurting a normal
person with the force of his grip on John's knees, and
maybe that's the point, too.

John breaks the kiss and eyes him, and it's just another
caress. The way his gaze lights on Wally's eyes, his
cheek, his mouth, and then John's kissing him again,
harder, squeezing his bicep and licking his mouth and...
*yeah*.

Other hand back right where he needs it, sliding in
and taking him out, tucking the waistband of the tights
behind his balls and stroking and --

"John. I want... let me move my hands."

"Not yet."

"*God*, just --"

Harder and Wally can feel *all* the calluses on John's
hand. He looks down and John has... wished or willed
away the GL gloves. Whatever.

"*Fuck* that's good." And he can't *stop* staring,
because fuck, he *forgets* how sexy that looks. That
dark hand on his dick and the way John makes it look
so damned *natural*, which is ridiculous, because what
guy doesn't know how to choke it? Still.

He bends his arms again, bracing himself a little better
so he can thrust, and then he's *fighting* to keep his
eyes open. He wants to close them, throw his head
back, but he also just wants to *watch*.

So close to John's own dick, bundled up and obviously
hard behind the GL suit, and John's abs are flexing.
So many ways he has of saying 'I'm just as turned on
as you are,' and it's always so *good*.

Sweat patters down from his forehead and disappears
into the black of John's suit, and Wally's not going to
last.

He *never* does.

"Please, John..."

"Tell me."

"I just... just more --" And the words fall apart into a
groan, and John gives it to him faster, making Wally
pant and whimper and twist in place.

And there's a moment where the friction is too much --
John's hand *isn't* slick -- but Wally's making up for it,
dick spitting pre-come, and the only thing that could
possibly be better than this --

No, there are a *lot* of things better, and just as good,
and they're all in Wally's *head*, memories and fantasies
and *possibilities*. John's dick in his mouth and John's
fingers in his ass and that time half-on, half-off the
couch in the van, when he'd been balls-deep in John's
ass and they'd made so much noise a cop had shown
up and John gave the worst impression of an innocent
superhero *ever* and -- "*John*"

And there's a green flash and John is naked, utterly,
perfectly naked, and Wally's left hand slips and he's
falling and coming and getting *caught* and coming,
and not even hooking his feet under John's thighs can
keep him from shaking so hard he bites his tongue.

"Ow."

"Okay, hotshot?"

"Yeah, I... *Christ*." Wally sits up and shifts until his
hands are braced on the back of the couch and gives
up on talking to just kiss John. And rub up against him,
because post-orgasm sensitivity vs. John's skin and
lots of it? No contest. Licks his way out of his mouth.
"What do you want?"

"Keep moving."

He can do that. He unhooks one leg and... okay, not
the easiest thing to do, but he manages. Pulls John
forward enough to curl his leg around the man's back,
his arms around his shoulders, and it's slick and hot
and sticky between them.

It's perfect, and it's perfect, and it's even better when
John makes a serious effort to suck all the blood out
of his body through his neck without breaking the
skin.

"Fucking *vampire* --"

"Are you complaining?" He sounds a little strained.
Heh.

"Jesus, no."

John bites him, groans into his skin, and holds him
tighter. It's harder to move, but it's also *better*.
Like fighting if fighting wasn't horrendously stressful
and dangerous.

"You are *so* fucking hot, John..."

And then those hands are on his ass, squeezing and
lifting and *moving* him, and John's thrusting against
him. "Easier if we were... laying down..."

But he doesn't actually move, or even try to, and Wally
gets that, at this point, finesse is purely theoretical.

He *likes* this point.

"Come on me, do it -- *fuck* --" *Much* harder bite,
either too hard or *Wally's* not hard enough to really
appreciate it.

Doesn't matter. John's *licking* him, long, flat swipes
from his throat to his chin, and it tickles and it's wet and
it's *hot*.

"*Jesus*, John --"

"Wally..." Gritted out like it hurts, and John's clutching
him tighter, maybe leaving bruises and maybe laying
*claim*, and Wally can smell him. Smell *them*. Sweat
and come and *sex*, like maybe John's living room is
 going to stink like a gay whorehouse for *weeks*.

Wally grins to himself and struggles back just enough
to get another kiss, brief and hard, and then shifts and
presses *close* again, trying to catch John's rhythm for
a moment and then just *grinding*.

The sounds John's making go from low to choked to
*strangled*, and then he's quiet for what feels like an
hour before exhaling on a groan and jerking in Wally's
arms and coming all over them both.

Eventually the death-grip John has on him is more like
a hug, which is usually Wally's cue to move, but... he
really doesn't want to.

It's nice here on John's lap, even with *both* feet going
to sleep.

John hums against what's probably going to be a truly
world-class hickey.

"I agree."

Wally can feel John's teeth as he smiles, and then John
kisses his throat, soft and wet and slow. Wally returns
the favor, brushing his lips against John's forehead and
wondering what it would be like to kiss someone until
his lips were numb.

He knows John would do it. Maybe the next time he
coaxed the man into his van.

Wally grins and squeezes him with his arms and one,
numbing leg.

John squeezes right back, reflexive and easy.

end.