Disclaimers: Not ours in the least.

Spoilers: Vague ones for "Fury," "The Brave and the
Bold," and "Hearts and Minds."

Summary: Actions and consequences.

Ratings Note: NC-17. *So* NC-17.

Authors' Note: Livia got kinky. Te lost her sh*t. Porn
ensued.

Acknowledgments: To Jack, Sarah, and Lyra for
encouragement and suggestions.

Feedback: Sir, yes, sir! livia001@hotmail.com, leytelj@gmail.com

*
 

Wally is more fidgety than usual after the fight goes down,
but it's not his *fault*. Stupid... stupid monkey. How fair is
it that Batman's arch-enemy is some hot chick with a whip,
Wonder Woman's is this nine foot tall blonde who could
probably wrestle Xena to a draw (and love every minute of it),
and Flash gets... a four hundred pound gorilla.

It's just not *cool*.

"Where the hell --" He hears GL's cranky voice from across
the high-ceilinged hall and slows down with an effort. "-- oh,
there. Flash, could you *try* to stay in the same *zip code*
for a second here!"

Flash makes an apologetic face, but at this point, he's totally
willing to let GL be the one who explains to the in-charge
type people why the new anthropology exhibit at the Central
City Museum of Science and Industry is. Um.

It's not his *fault*! It's really not. Who knew Grodd would
come straight for *him* after escaping from gorilla jail? Like
'Homeward Bound.' Except with a gorilla.

And psychotic revenge.

Wally jitters a little in place for at least a whole second.
Gets another glare from GL, who beckons him over to
explain something or probably just smile at a peeved-looking
lady with a museum badge. "Erm." He does a couple laps
around the museum to cool off, then heads over to GL's side
and sticks out his hand. "Sorry about the exhibits. But hey,
at least no one got hurt! That wasn't animatronic. Heh."

The museum lady gives him a look.

He smiles weakly, trying to *will* her to ignore the little
white hairs all over his costume. No matter how many he
picks off he looks like he's been wrestling Aunt Iris' Persian
cat Ebbie and that is just.

So very not cool.

Stupid gorilla nemesis.

*

They're parked out back in a loading bay. Wally zips down
the concrete ramp to the Javelin and then back to John's
side and then back to the Javelin and then back over to John
and the man is walking that slowly *just to drive him insane*.

"Come on already! Can we go?"

He sees John roll his eyes to the sky. "What is your *hurry?*"

"I wanna hit the showers, okay? I smell like I've been
wrestling a gorilla!"

"Well, you *have* been."

"You *have* been," Wally mimics, trying really hard not to
literally jump up and down impatiently.

"I swear to God," GL grunts. "One of these days I'm gonna get
you one of those kid leashes. At least we'd know where you
*are*."

Which stops Wally still. In his *tracks* and.

Okay, for Wally?

'Think before you speak' is a lofty but impossible ideal
that has absolutely no practical application whatsoever to,
well, actual life. Kind of like 'eat the right amount of
vegetables' and 'pay the electricity bill on time.'

When the man sets himself up like that -- well, how can
Wally *not*? And he's got his arm around GL's shoulders
just that fast, and he leans in, grinning and wiggling his
eyebrows. "Kinky!!"

"What?"

"You, me, a leash? John, you kinky son of a bitch! I had
no idea!" And no one's around, so Wally grabs his ass just
to feel him jump. Ah, John. Best uptight, boring-movie-loving,
Wally's-sense-of-humor-not-appreciating boyfriend *ever*.

John shoulders out from under his arm, stalking just that
*little* bit faster towards the Javelin. "We're in public."

A leash. John Stewart, Master of Pain! Wally's about a
millisecond away from rolling around on the ground giggling.
"Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't tease. I know the kink is *not*
your thing. Hey, you thing maybe sometime we could do
it with the lights on?"

And John swings around and *stares* at him and Wally
thinks to himself, okay, let's review. I whined, and then I
teased, and then *oh crap* did I just make fun of how John
is in bed?

John looks at him for a long, long second, and Wally is
miserably aware that one of his lightning bolts got bent in
the fight and it makes him kinda look stupid and demented.
Also, he smells like monkey.

"You wanna go get fries or something?" Wally blurts. "My
treat, we can go wherever --"

"Okay," John mutters, but quietly, more like he's talking to
himself than responding to whatever Wally's saying.
And... *fries*? Okay, John's maybe better off talking to
himself at this point. Wally quietly picks monkey hair off
his sleeve.

John looks at the Javelin, then back at Wally, then points his
ring at the ground. One of those green force bubbles appears
around them, lifting John and Wally, zipping them up and over
the museum and really, really high up in the sky and Wally
stares at John. "What are you --"

"Don't talk."

Don't talk. Wally can do that.

He is a superhero, after all.

Right.

*

They don't run into John's scary landlady on the way in
from the rooftop entrance, for which Wally is truly grateful.
So now they're in John's apartment and god, Wally will never
get *over* this place. The way it illustrates really clearly that
Wally is having a (kinda sorta) relationship with, well. An
*adult*. Someone who has furniture that matches. And...
stuff.

John hasn't said anything since Central City. He doesn't say
anything now, either, just locks the door behind them both.

"So I..."

John gives Wally a half-amused look, and Wally shuts up. He
can *too*.

Even when John takes him by the arm and *steers* him
through the place, over to the stairs next to the kitchen.

There's a closet under the stairs, and Wally's brain starts
tripping switches and flashing crazy mental images as John
reaches for the doorknob. What's in there, a Little Bo Peep
costume? A branding iron? Stuffed animals? John's gonna hang
him upside down from the gymnast rings in the corner and
spank him with --

An umbrella?

A winter coat? A couple of old appliance boxes?

Okay, even John's *closet* is neat, which is somehow not
surprising.

Also? Not full of kinky sex toys.

It just takes a second for John to push the closet door all the
way open and turn around. Wally pastes a nonchalant look on
his face and tries really hard not to look like he was expecting
kinky sex toys.

"What?!" John says, annoyed.

"Nothin'!"

John doesn't even have to roll his eyes this time. He circles
back around Wally. Puts an arm around his waist, the other
around his chest, and just... *smiles*. Wally can see them both
in the long, tall mirror on the inside of the closet door, and oh,
okay, *mirror*. There we go.

GL wants a little show. Sure, okay. Wally can do that --

And then there's a sudden flare of light, and he startles, but
John holds him steady as the blur of green sweeps over his
body. He blinks and...

At first Wally thinks he's gone *invisible* because he can't
see *himself,* but then he sees.

He's wearing a Green Lantern uniform.

He stares at himself in the mirror. Wriggles his shoulders a
little. The bodysuit feels thicker than he's used to, a little
rougher, the material making skritchy Kevlar noises when he
moves his arms. The boots are heavier. He looks down,
flexing his hands, noting the green armbands -- not tight so
much as *snug* -- around his wrists and upper arms.

And a little pointy mask, just enough to cover his nose and
make him really aware of his eyes. Like the one Kyle used
to wear.

"I told Kyle that one time --" Wally begins, and then falters,
because he really doesn't have anything to say, and also?
John is touching his face.

Touching his hair.

Smoothing his bangs back from his face, up off his forehead.
And now he looks like a total *dork*. Or like a real Green
Lantern. Almost. Kinda.

"So..." Wally says, looking at himself in the mirror. Number
one on the list of Things To Not Say is 'Does this make my
ass look fat?' Number two is 'Tell me I'm not wearing your
underwear right now." Number three --

"Now," John says, voice a low rumble in his ear, "drop and
give me twenty."

Wally stares, and John laughs, just a slow hot breath on his
newly-exposed ear. Wally twitches.

John presses his mouth to Wally's neck, eyes closed and...
something *like* amusement tugging his mouth into a smile.
"It's okay. I'm kidding."

Wally shakes, not sure whether to laugh or yell. Turns out of
GL's arms and backs up, jumping when he hits the mirror
and makes it rattle. "No you're not! You're totally not kidding!
Oh my God, man, okay, I admit it, I wasn't giving you enough
credit. You. Man. You are..."

John just looks at him in a way that says, very clearly, 'I hear
talking but I don't see pushups.'

For a guy who sometimes seems to have fewer facial
expressions than Batman, John has some really eloquent
looks.

Okay. Wally shakes out his arms a little, then heads out from
under the stairs into the middle of the room, into the space
between the red couch and the kitchen.

"Nice and slow," John says, and now he's using the *sex voice*,
which is just not *fair*, and Wally can already see how this is
going to be a *lot* different from gym class in high school.

Okay, somewhat different.

"Let me see you work for it."

And John is having *fun* with this. And. Okay.

Wally likes fun.

He assumes the position. Shows off a little, pushing himself
up and clapping his hands in the air, then catching himself
again. He keeps *startling* himself with this crazy Green
Lantern uniform thing. His hands are still his hands, but they
don't *look* like his.

He starts doing pushups.

And the strange bodysuit is just rubbing him wrong -- well,
not really *wrong* but just *weird*. He's really *aware* of
his body -- the way his feet and hands are kind of weighted
down by the GL-issue boots and gauntlets. The way he's
*naked* under the suit in the way that stopped mattering for
his reds *years* ago.

And John is crouching down right in front of him, and
every time Wally gets to the top of a pushup, John is right
*there*, and John's *crotch* is right there, kind of like an
incentive, and yeah, okay.

Three pushups and Wally's starting to sweat.

John just watches him, and Wally does it like he said,
nice and slow. He wonders how much John can see of his
eyes through this mask.

He wonders if John's gonna make him run laps next. Do
pull-ups. Maybe they're gonna snap towels at each other in the
bathroom. Which would be cool, since Wally rules at that
game. And now he's wondering if that Bubble-Yum-colored
Lantern in the metal bikini did this to *John* when he was
just a raw recruit, and *that* is a nice mental image that gives
his next couple of pushups a little extra *oomph*.

"What are you thinking?" John reaches out and carefully
pushes a loose strand of hair behind his ear, his hand
following Wally's face as Wally lowers himself almost to the
rug, then pushes himself up again.

"Well, I, I'm thinking gym class would have been more
interesting if you'd been my coach, and I'm thinking I can't
believe I'm rock hard for *push-ups*, I mean, God --"

John straightens up so fast Wally thinks he said something
wrong, but he knows the difference between Angry GL and
Curt GL and Angry But Trying To Sound Curt GL and it's only
curt when John orders him, "Count off."

"Mmph," Wally says, and pushes himself upright again.
"...twenty-nine."

John's *boot* settles lightly between his shoulder blades.

"... eighteen..."

And presses down. Wally locks his arms, and John pushes
harder, *leaning* on him.

"Eleven!" Wally gasps, and John lifts his foot away. Wally dips
down, pushes himself up again, still feeling the boot-print on
his back, still slack-jawed that John *did* that. "Twelve."

And John drops down to straddle him, one knee down and
one boot planted by Wally's thigh, leaning forward to brush
gloved hands over Wally's shoulders. Not pushing him now,
just... *feeling* him. Feeling him work for it.

"Thirteen."

Wally's ass is not *quite* brushing against John's thigh with
every stroke. He pushes harder. "Fourteen. Fifteen."

John's fingers brush softly over the back of his neck, at the tiny
little patch of skin revealed after the high collar ends.

Leans forward even more, hand tightening on Wally's shoulder.
Moving with him as Wally moves. And he just *breathes* on
that spot, and Wally shivers *hard*.

"John I'm s-seriously. Um." And it's like John's riding him, and
Wally can't help but arch up against his long, hard body. The
uniforms *purr* as they slide against each other, and John
makes an amused sound, tongue flickering wet over the back
of Wally's neck. Just *tasting* him. "Oh fuck I'm gonna come
in your spare fucking uniform, *John*--"

And John makes a noise that might be amusement and might
be *doom* and there's another green flare and Wally's...

Very naked.

All new sensations now *everywhere,* his toes twisting in
the rug and goosebumps up and down his arms and John is
*so* fucking hot behind him.

And Wally's still wearing the little mask.

He's not sure if John *forgot* to get rid of it, or if it's just
the cherry on the kink sundae, and now John is licking his
back, *licking his back* and "Man, I *can't* --"

"Don't stop." And John knows what he needs, he just
*knows*, and he lowers himself down and now Wally *is*
pressing up against him with every stroke, grinding his
naked ass against John's still-clothed crotch, rubbing up
against his thigh.

"Oh *yeah* --"

And John just laughs against his skin, and that's good,
too, because. John. John and him. And... push-ups.

And then John sort of eases his way back, and strokes
Wally's naked, naked skin. All big, warm, callused hands.
*Possessive* hands.

"I think that was twenty."

"You think?"

"I kinda got distracted!" And okay that was more whiny
than sexy, but they *are* going to have sex sometime
today, right? Actual sex? This is just the kinky foreplay.
Right?

"Don't stop."

And Wally thinks he's finally understanding, *really*
understanding the word 'kinky.'

Because John's still stroking him, in an almost *clinical*
way. Rubbing his shoulders, fingers pushing in. Hands
slipping down to his waist like he's testing for the best grip.
Obviously cataloguing every muscle.

Every breath.

No one makes him feel as hot as John does. John makes
him think... makes him look in the mirror and *blink* because
sometimes he can see it in himself.

What makes him just that sexy. (*Fuckable.*)

So sexy that John has him acting out his bizarre little fantasies.
Because that turns him *on*. And he could laugh about it --
and he will -- but not now. Because John's *moving* on him,
sliding back and down and making Wally's ass *very* unhappy
until that mouth is on him again.

Licking. *Biting*.

"You said twenty --" Wally protests, pushing himself up again,
and he's really sweating now, feeling the burn in his arms and
legs. In the backs of his knees. In the way every muscle in his
body is telling him how good it would feel to just let *go*.

"You can do more than that." John says calmly against his
skin, scraping his teeth across the base of Wally's spine. And
laughing just makes Wally harder, and then he's just *moaning*,
because John bites a perfectly straight line up the middle of
his back. Probably straighter than his *spine*, and his cock is
spitting pre-come and his balls are pulling up tight.

"All right, okay, keep doing what you're -- ah, Jesus,
*John* --"

Yeah. Biting his *neck*. Latched on and not letting go. Jesus
God. One hand sliding around to stroke his cock and the other
between his legs, cupping and rolling his balls.

"Really gonna make me come now --"

"Don't."

"Fuck fucking order-giving *bastard* --" Wally spits, too
breathless to laugh now. "You know, John... if this is just
your way... of trying to tire me out before the main event.
So that we can, you know. Start on even ground..."

John's teeth tighten on his neck. His grip on Wally's balls
is... firm. That's a good word for it. Wally freezes at the top
of his million and eleventh push-up.

"Then I would say that's completely ridiculous 'cause
you don't need to, you don't need to do that at *all*, can
we just fucking *fuck* oh *man*, John --"

John pulls back. Actually stands *up* and Wally absolutely
doesn't whine, even though John's apartment is kinda
uncomfortably cool now.

One of John's hands settles around his ankle. "Hey,
hotshot."

"...yeah?"

And he's really going to have to get someone to check and
see that this isn't an evil John from an alternate universe,
because John actually traces a line up the sole of Wally's
*foot* before settling down next to him. "*Count*."

Uh. Wally does another push-up. "Fifty... six?"

"Nope." And John is petting him, *prodding* at the
muscles of his back, and then that strong hand slips back
down to Wally's ass and Wally hears himself make a sound
like he's been gut-punched. "Start over."

Except if gut-punches felt like that the world would be a
much more violent place and maybe that explained Hawkgirl
but also -- "Oh my fucking *god*."

Thumb, *just* John's thumb, almost-slick-enough with
sweat, with the fact that his body is getting really fucking
*used* to John in the best ways.

Sliding in, opening him up, and John is kneeling next to him,
so close, his other fist *tight* around the root of Wally's
cock and *God*, Wally's arms are *shaking*.

It doesn't *matter* that it's just push-ups. That he is,
technically, a superhero. He can't *do* this. Sweat is
stinging his eyes, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and if
he shakes his head, he'll fall *over*.

"John *please* --"

"Don't stop."

Hears himself whimper but goes for it. "One." Another.
"Two." And then it doesn't matter that he can't keep count,
because god, he can't make words anymore.

He goes down, feeling his muscles strain, and yeah, he's
just making noises, needy noises, *fuck* me noises, and
John hears him, Wally *knows* he hears him, because
that thumb is fucking him now.

*Up*, and even his toes feel hard, feel like they want to
be sucked and stroked and bitten and --

"Hey, Wally?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Don't blink."

Bright green flare and then *nothing*, and he seizes up
all over because he can't *see*, can't -- Oh. John's blacked
out the mask and oh *fuck* that just makes it *hotter*.

Not that he could see much *before* except John's ugly
Pier One rug but now he can't see anything at *all* and
it's --

It's not about the ring. Because even though God knows
Wally has fantasized *and* fantasized about what that
ring could do for his sex life, it's just a tool. A tool in the
hands of a man, and it's John that's doing it, John's will,
*John*, and just the fact that he *wants* to -- and that's
it, no more. His knees drop and spread and Wally braces
himself on his elbows and *begs*.

"Come on. *John*--"

And there's a hard squeeze to his cock and John slips his
thumb out and for a second Wally thinks he just lost the
fucking *game*, but then there are *slick* noises and
John grunts, spreads him, and pushes *in*.

One long, hot slide that has Wally clawing at the rug,
rucking it up under his hands, has him almost *wailing*.
Not because it's that good -- even though it is -- but
because he was starting to think he wouldn't *get*
this.

He's never going to make fun of John again. Never ever
*ever*. Wait, no. He's going to make fun of John a *lot*.
Because John is evil. And John has him by the hips, has
him right where he wants him, *has* him.

And something about not being able to see... He *knows*
where he is, and he knows where *John* is, but he can
just.

He can feel *everything*.

The watery-good vibration of his muscles. The spit and
sweat cooling on his skin. Every bite mark.

Every *suck* mark.

And the nothing is developing spots and stars, but it takes
a while to figure out that it's just because he's squeezing his
eyes shut, but he *has* to. Just like he has to work his hips
in the tiny, grinding little jerks that John's allowing him and
"Faster *please* --"

One hand back on his neck, pushing his head down. The
other one leaving *bruises* on his hip, and oh God the
*sounds*. Skin slapping against skin and these chuffed out
little *pants* that mean John's going for it. *Doing* him.

Working him right into the rug, and this is gonna *sting*
in the morning but right now it's just *hot*.

Hand sliding around his neck, friendly little squeeze that
makes him jerk and *vibrate* when John lets go, and
then that hand is down, down, back around his cock
and --

"*Now* come."

White out *flash*, and John's voice might as well be
connected to his cock, John's dick might as well be the
sex toy of the gods.

John might just be *perfect*.

And the white goes black again and Wally comes so
hard it *hurts*, squeezing John *in* and screaming and
John's fucking *roaring* and it makes his cock
twitch *again* and this is exactly how he wants to die.

Naked and coming and sweating, probably needling
holes through the rug with his fingers, and a giant kinky
man fucking him through the floor and making him *like*
it.

Wally laughs so hard he chokes, reaching back with a
shaky hand for John's hip and urging him faster, harder,
*more*. "C'mon, do it, come in my ass, man, you --"

And the next thrust rattles his *teeth*, and the next
moves them *again*, and the next makes him bite his
tongue, and the next -- sunlight. *Light*. Mask gone. John's
not concentrating anymore.

John's not doing anything but pounding him into a brand
new *shape*.

"*Jesus*--"

Low, *ripping* growl, and Wally's going to be hard again
in about fifteen seconds. He pushes himself back up and
*slams* back against John, catching his rhythm and urging
it faster, *faster*.

His arms are shaking even more now, but it doesn't matter.
Nothing matters but just this, right here. John's rhythm
going ragged and utterly brutal.

John hauling him up and spreading him over his lap and
Wally's not so much riding him as he's *shaking* and
clutching and yeah this 'tire Flash out' thing might not be
such a bad plan. He shakes, throwing his head back onto
John's shoulder. Half-catching that snarling mouth in a
raw kiss, rubbing come into his own skin and John
whimpers broken and *deadly* into his mouth.

And stops.

Comes, squeezing Wally so hard he feels his ribs creak.

Gradually, slowly eases off the pressure.

Wally exhales. Shudders once, all over.

John's hands slide up Wally's arms. Down again. Soothing
him, or maybe himself. "My. God."

"*Yeah*, John. I. *Jesus*."

Cut-off chuckle and John's petting him, yeah, but he's
also very clearly checking him out. "You --"

"I'm fine." Wally grins and *flexes* for emphasis, getting
a gasp.

"Mm. Yeah, you are." Slow, thorough stroke over his
spread thighs, and then John slumps a bit against the back
of the couch, pulling Wally with him. His hands find a place
on Wally's wrists, and Wally closes his eyes slowly as John's
hands tighten, the bump of Wally's wrist-bones fitting nicely
into the palm of John's hand.

"Hmm-hm," Wally says, drawing the moment out. Just
luxuriating in the rarity of a second where there's nothing he
has to do, nowhere he has to go. "Hey, GL." He grins at the
high wooden rafters. "Ask me if it was good for me."

A pause he can *feel*.

"Was it good for you, *hotshot*?"

"Sir, yes, SIR!"

John's arms go around him again.

And squeeze.

Wally giggles.

John squeezes harder. But Wally can feel the laugh building
in his chest, can feel him shake. Feel him *smile* against
Wally's neck.

"No more grabbing my ass in public, Wally."

"Mm-mmm," Wally apologizes. Sorta. "So... do I want to
know where *my* uniform is? Oh hey, do you think your
ring works on gorilla hair?"

"Okay," John says, and pushes him off, and Wally
grumbles and they disengage and Wally's maybe only a
*little* secretly pleased that John has to grab the back of
his couch in order to haul himself up.

Of course, he can't really say anything about it. Considering
the fact that he's sort of lying on his back on the carpet and...
well, let's just say he doesn't really *feel* like moving.

He beams up at John.

"You got any ice cream?"

"... Maybe *after* we get the Javelin back to the Watchtower
where it belongs." And John's voice is all business, and then
his ring flares and he's back in his uniform and Wally sighs.
Closes his eyes as John aims the ring at him.

"Hey, I've had a long day, okay. Grodd's like officially my
nemesis. And then a million push-ups --"

"Sixty-three."

Flash pauses in the doorway. Gives John a look that's
probably not as pointed as he wants it to be, given that he's
got the mask on and, well, he's too fucking well-fucked at
the moment to do anything but smile like the dreamy, well-
fucked goof he *is*.

John looks at him for a moment, this weird, fond smile on
his face. And then he lifts his hand and touches Flash's
temple, moves his hand a little and.

Oh, yeah. The bent bolt. There's a little green glow, and
then John drops his hand, and Flash twists his head to the
side trying to see -- wait, no. Not gonna work. "You fixed
it?"

John nods.

"Thanks," Flash says, and kisses him in the doorway, not
even caring if the scary landlady sees them.

He's cool.

[end]