#give it a more modest neckline with pants/tights + boots and I can actually see Arya in an outfit like this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

callmeelle22 · 3 years

Text

Blue Dream VI

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 8, 390

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes; The action makes her look at him again and there’s something behind the playfulness in his gaze, something that sings like there is only one for me; you have made that a possibility, like we could take that step to see, mm; if this is really gonna be, like all she’s gotta do is say yes to whatever statement his eyes are making, to whatever question his fingers are stitching into her skin. (Read chapter below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Say Yes

There is only one for me

You have made that a possibility

We could take that step to see, mm

If this is really gonna be

All you got to do is say yes

On the following Thursday, Iris finds herself rushing down Main St., her glittery gold pumps making a rhythmic clack-clack-clack on the sidewalk. She barely had time to change from what she’d worn to work, into a long black maxi dress printed with gold feathers all over it. The dress has long sleeves and a modest neckline, though the right side split that rises near to her waist changes what might otherwise just be a pretty casual dress. She’s late, which is why she’s risking a broken neck by running down the street in these shoes, not wanting to hear Wally bitch about being late to his 21st birthday dinner.

She finally gets to the front of Golden’s, where her dad has rented out space for the dinner and later, some music and dancing. Barry is standing outside of the restaurant, in a pair of well-fitting black pants and camel colored desert boots, tugging at the neck of the white sweater that does only good things for those broad shoulders. He looks up from his phone when he hears her heels, and the smile he gives her pulls her up short.

“Hi, beautiful” he greets as he steps out from where he’d been leaning on the wall. “You look nice."

Iris waves a hand, still trying to catch her breath. “I look like I’ve been working all day.”

She touches self-consciously at her hair, knowing that the curls from her bantu knots have likely begun to fall. But when she looks up again, the word nice isn’t actually what she sees as he’s looking at her. It’s a misnomer, the word nice, because his gaze follows the curves of her body, the way the dress’s matching tie shows the deep curve of her waist, and how every time she moves, Barry sees one long, brown leg ending in the double straps around her ankle. Iris shifts under his gaze, at his blown irises, the color of them graying by the moment.

“Come here,” he says, reaching out for her.

“What? Barry, we’re late,” she attempts to argue, even as she’s letting him pull her into his arms. She tumbles into them, letting him wrap both his arms around her as she circles hers around his waist. She can feel the warmth of his palms through the thin material of her dress.

“Breathe,” he commands softly, and she inhales deeply before letting it go. Barry loosens his hold, but only enough that he can look into her eyes.

“Let’s try that again,” he teases. “Hi, Iris, you look beautiful.”

Her stomach flutters at the comment and she bites down on her bottom lip. “Thank you, Barry.”

“How’s your day been? We haven’t talked.”

“Barry, we’re…”

“Late. Yes, I know. And maybe I’m stalling because I’m nervous to meet your entire family at your brother’s party, but I also just wanna check in.” He lifts her chin with a forefinger. “So how’s your day been?”

She thinks that she fucking melts, just like that.

“It’s been good. Really good,” she replies softly, trying to hold his tender gaze. “I didn’t have to curse any undergrads. And I, uh, well,” she hesitates for only a moment, but she wants to tell him this, even if it’s news she’s been hoarding for the moment. “Well, my blog is going to be featured on Good Morning, Central City.”

His eyes light up. “What, Iris? That’s amazing!” He wraps his arms around her again and squeezes, even pulling her off of her feet. The sound of her laughter fills the air as she tightens her hold on his neck.

He’s the first person she’s told. She’d gotten the email after lunch this afternoon, about the morning talk show featuring some of Central City’s rising internet stars. She’s never considered herself an internet star, especially because her blog focuses primarily on others, with the exception of the occasional personal story, the occasional picture with an update about her life. But they’re taping the segment in a month’s time and she’ll have a ten minute spot talking to the hosts and answering questions about What a Life You’ve Lived.

“Baby, I’m so damn proud of you.”

And he is, which isn’t so much startling as it is noteworthy. Because he’s new here, but already he’s been so supportive of her and her work, reading and asking questions all the time. It’s a rush, really, and she has to hold on to him to steady herself.

“Thank you so much, Barry. It’s exciting and scary and, humbling, in a way.”

“See,” he says, cupping her cheek in his palm. “Good.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he takes it as an invitation to kiss her. It’s a quick kiss, compared to the way he usually kisses her, but he still leaves her light-headed from the taste and the feel of him. She hums when he pulls away, closing her eyes briefly.

“You ready?” she asks when he’s in her sight again.

“I think I am,” he replies, but she notes that he seems a little dazed too.

“Don’t be nervous,” she grins. “You already know Dad. You’ve met Linda. You’ve likely met Cecile too.”

“Yes, but it’s one thing to talk to Captain West and DA Horton for work. It’s completely different to hang out with them as the man their daughter has been seeing.”

She takes his hand to squeeze once and lets go to run her hand across his chest, picking at invisible lent on his sweater.

“It’ll be fine. Just be your weirdly charming self.”

“Weirdly charming?” His eyes widen and he stands up straighter. “How am I weirdly charming?”

Ignoring his question, she grabs his hand again. “Come on. We’re really late now.”

“But Iris…?”

Iris isn’t quite sure how she got Barry invited to this dinner. She’d gone over to her dad’s for dinner on Sunday, and they’d been talking about Wally’s party, securing some last-minute details. Out of the blue, Wally had blurted about Iris’s “new boyfriend,” though Iris figures it was a calculated move on her brother’s part. But now they’re here, walking into Golden’s hand in hand.

The place has been decorated for the party: white, black, and gold streamers everywhere, a matching balloon arch, a tall matching photo booth set up on one side. The space has been cleared so that there is one long table for the group to sit together (to include their family, Linda and Daniel, Theo and Xuan, and several of Wally’s friends from college). On the other side of the table is a wide-open space where, in about an hour, a DJ will come set up in the corner and the remaining space will act as a makeshift dance floor.

Wally is sitting in the middle of the table, a black leather crown on his head, matching his black t-shirt and blazer paired with black trousers, a gold chain circling his throat. The color theme for his birthday party is black, white, and gold, and as Iris looks around the room, she sees her family and Wally’s friends all adhering to the dress code.

“Iris,” he shouts when he spots her. “Fucking finally.” He immediately glances back at their dad with a low “sorry dad,” before standing to greet her. Iris pulls him in for a hug, wrapping her arms tight around him.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she tells him. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Thanks, big sis.” He gives her another big squeeze and then pulls back to kiss her cheek.

Joe West, tall and imposing-looking with deep brown skin and kind eyes, shakes his head at his youngest son and stands to give Iris a hug too.

“Good to see you, pumpkin.”

He looks at Barry, who’s standing behind her, looking a little bit pink in the face, his eyes wide. She shakes her head in amusement, thinking about how he’s always so damn confident when he’s with her, but he’s looking like he wants to turn and run at the moment.

“CSI Allen,” her dad says, expression unreadable.

Barry swallows. “Captain West. It’s, uh, good to see you.”

There’s a tense silence for just a moment as her dad seems to size Barry up. But before Barry decides to actually run away, Iris rolls her eyes and lightly taps her father’s shoulder.

“Daddy, stop.”

Her dad blinks once and then his face erupts in a wide grin. “I’m just kidding. Good to see you, Allen.” He reaches out to shake Barry’s hand, clapping his shoulder.

“You too, sir,” Barry nods once, and then again. “And please just call me Barry.”

The rounds are made. Barry greets DA Horton, a pretty woman with ochre colored skin and big brown eyes, who tells him to call her Cecile when they aren’t at work. Wally is next, who gives him a long look, not unlike their father, before reaching out to hug him, whispering something in his ear that makes Barry smile faintly as he looks briefly at Iris before turning back to Wally and nodding firmly. Xuan and Theo greet him with wide smiles, and then Linda gives him a kiss on the cheek before introducing him to Daniel, a tall, sun-kissed man with near black eyes, unruly dark hair, and an easy smile.

The table is divided with family on one end and Wally’s friends on the other, with Wally sitting in the middle on one side and Iris across from him. There are a couple of waiters, Allegra is here as the bartender, and just as Barry and Iris are sitting down, the waiters bring out several plates of appetizers featured on the menu: egg rolls, steamed buns, fried pork dumplings, ginger salads, edamame, baked sticky wings. There are several plates of each, enough for everyone to have some of everything and they all dig in, taking sips of Wally’s birthday cocktail, something that’s mostly champagne, in between.

Iris watches in fascination as Barry effortlessly makes conversation with people around him. It’s not that she’s necessarily surprised; Barry is an affable sort, her dad is an extremely good judge of character, and Wally and Cecile are generally easy-going people. But seeing it in action does something so funny to her that she can’t describe it. When her dad asks how they met, he shoots her a wink and replies, “I saw her out dancing one night and I knew I had to get to know her.” Only she hears Linda’s snort, but the answer does make her shake her head (and flush a little) in remembrance.

Then Cecile wants to know, inexplicably, about their first date.

“She invited me over for dinner,” Barry explains.

“No, I…” She turns sharply to her side, narrowing her eyes at the unmitigated glee in his. He knows that if she explains how he’d just shown up (because she’d invited him over for a one-night stand anyway), they’d both be thrown under the bus.

Iris looks back at the table, at her dad who’s got an eyebrow raised, and at Wally who’s obviously trying not to laugh.

“I don’t really count that as the first date,” she responds through clenched teeth. Barry leans into her, arm draped over her shoulder, fingers playing absently with her dress’s collar.

“So do you count hanging out at Fall Fest?”

She isn’t fooled by the casual tone of his question. “You were there with your friends. You ditching them had nothing to do with me.”

He reaches out and fingers the simple gold open circle studs she’s wearing. The action makes her look at him again and there’s something behind the playfulness in his gaze, something that sings like there is only one for me; you have made that a possibility, like we could take that step to see, mm; if this is really gonna be, like all she’s gotta do is say yes to whatever statement his eyes are making, to whatever question his fingers are stitching into her skin.

“Me leaving them had everything to do with you.”

And she’s, for a second (or for a minute, or for some infinite period of time) lost in it, lost in him, forgetting that this is not a private moment, that people are watching, that the goosebumps that are gliding up her arms and the heavy rise and fall of her chest are for everyone to see.

Linda lets out a cough, a way too obvious attempt to break the tension.

“But if we’re talking about our first official date,” Barry says, holding her gaze for a second longer before turning back to her family, “we went on a picnic.”

She can’t look at them, not yet, and she saves face by turning to Linda whose own eyes are filled with mirth.

“Oh, a picnic,” Cecile squeals. “How sweet.”

“Yeah,” he replies, smiling. “It was sweet: the company and the dessert.”

She thinks of the dessert, the way he’d licked at her like she was the sweetest thing he’d ever had in his mouth; Iris has to avert her eyes from them again, lest they see her suddenly widened eyes and her speeding pulse, her legs crossing and uncrossing again.

Wally, bless his soul, takes up the conversation from there, turning it to something he’d figured out in one of his classes. Iris leans into Barry.

“You do too much,” she tells him quietly.

He nods in concedence. “You’re probably right.” Then one corner of his mouth lifts again. “But you can’t tell me you don’t like it.”

She pinches him at that and he yelps, rubbing at his arm.

“I’m gonna hurt you later,” she threatens, stretching up to whisper it in his ear.

He licks his lips, eyes blazing. “You promise?”

She punches him lightly on the arm and he responds with a kiss to her cheek.

They fall into individual conversations after that. Plates disappear and more food appears; champagne glasses are taken away or refilled. Iris eats on most of whatever’s put in front of her, but she drinks slowly since it is still a school night. She’s half-listening to Linda and Dan tell her parents about some trip that they’re interested in taking to Vietnam, where all of Dan’s grandparents still live. Her dad and Cecile are flirting a little bit, she thinks, which, weird. Still, she’s got an ear to the conversations that Barry is having. He starts off talking to Jessie, one of Wally’s friends that have been around since Wally started at CCU, about nanotechnology, something Iris has zero interest in, and they geek out about it for long enough that Iris gets bored of it. But that leads them to a conversation about which professors are still at CCU, where Barry also went for undergrad and grad, finishing both eight years ago. That tells her that Barry is about five years older than her, which Iris guesses she can see in his mannerisms, in how comfortable he is in his career and in his thoughts and even in the way he carries his body.

Wally takes Barry’s attention away from Jessie after a while. Barry moves away from Iris enough that he can focus on whatever Wally’s saying. It takes his arm from her chair but he maintains contact by planting his hand on her bare thigh, thumb rubbing against her lightly. She can only hear snippets of their conversation, words their deeper voices, though whispered, can’t hide. She hears, at one point, “I think your sister is the loveliest woman I’ve ever known, in temperament and beauty, and I’m here for as long as she’ll have me.”

She doesn’t think she was supposed to hear that,

(although, she’ll wonder later that night if, purposefully, Barry had said it loud enough for her to do so).

Still, she does, whether he meant for her to or not. And she grapples with it for a moment. Because he’s said something similar before. He’s told her that he’s whipped and that he likes her and that he wants. The reality is: she’s wondered if it were true. She knows better than anyone the power of words, how they’re used to not only tell stories, but to tell lies, to manipulate, to coerce. And of course she doesn’t think that Barry would do any of those things, but she’d thought that his words had been just...words, pretty things to make her feel good.

(Okay, so maybe that it’s really true, either. But it’s been easier to take him at face value, to pen this story based on her own feelings, not always realizing that Barry’s just as much of a character here, that his dialogue matches the action, the imagery, foreshadowing whatever it is that’s really happening here.)

So saying this to her brother, however, privately and in the seriousness she knows is accompanied by his furrowed eyebrows and pursed mouth...well, that crystalizes it for her. Her reaction, though unsurprising in its intensity (because everything about this with him has been intense), is abrupt. Her entire body seizes up with, god, feeling, with emotions she’s been, apparently, cultivating since the moment he asked her to dance. She goes hot at the same time that she physically shivers, with her own words unspoken, with feelings suddenly realized, with raw passion, with all you gotta do is say yes; don't deny what you feel, let me undress you, baby; open up your mind and just rest; i'm about to let you know, you make me so...

She silently downs the rest of her drink, looking around the room to see if anyone has noticed her eyes darting to and fro, literally on the edge of a breakdown. She takes a big breath and wonders what she should do about this inconvenient revelation.

Barry turns to her, that same soft smile on his face. But, noticing what he perceives as her solemnity, he pulls from his conversation and slides his hand up her thigh and over her hip to settle on her waist. Her skin tingles at his touch.

“You alright? You’re not talking much.”

“Yeah,” she nods, lips turning up, hoping he can’t see the slight bit of panic she’s feeling. “Yeah. You? Surviving the interrogation?”

“They haven’t thrown me out yet, so I think so.”

She gives him a quiet laugh. But then he goes a little thoughtful too, licking his lips and staring at her. He reaches out to push a lock of hair behind her ear, and then he keeps his hand on her, running along the side of her face, down until he’s holding her by the back of her neck, his thumb still rubbing along the apples of her cheeks. He doesn’t look away, blinking as if to steady her features.

“What?” she questions, a bit nervously, wondering if he can see what she’s just realized in her features. He always looks at her as if he can, as if he can read her. He doesn’t speak for a moment, then,

“You’re really pretty.”

Iris scrunches her nose a little. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know, I just… you seem kind of far in your head right now and I know that compliments always make you blink back into the moment.” He gives a small grin. “Or make you blush.”

“I’m Black,” she counters. “I don’t blush.”

“Hmm,” he hums, grin widening. “Maybe you don’t get red like me, but you blush.” He runs his thumb across her bottom lip, tracing the plump curve. “Your eyes look sort of blown and you bite this lip and,” he leans closer, speaking close to her ear, “I can practically see your breathing get deeper.”

Iris decides that it’s only because of his thumb on her mouth that she doesn’t complete each of these steps he’s outlined. Instead, she circles her hand around his wrist and gives him a frown against his thumb.

“I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here,” she reveals. “You do make me blush, just like you said, but I feel like you’re always so, so…”

She lets the sentiment taper off, not wanting to truly acknowledge that she feels like she’s the one stepping out of her comfort zone, the one hanging off the ledge. But he chuckles, the sound connoting more incredulity than humor.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Her brows furrow, briefly confused. “Bear…”

“Do you think I’m composed, Iris?”

She snaps back, not liking his tone. “Well you’re always so goddamn smug and…”

His kiss cuts her off. Somehow, he’s still mindful of the mixed company, she assumes, because it’s a kiss like earlier: with some tongue, but still quick and nothing particularly distasteful. Even still, she tries to chase after him, to deepen the kiss, because she really just can’t help it where he’s concerned. When he pulls back, he resumes running his thumb along her mouth, and she knows that her lipstick is officially fucked.

“I’m not composed, Iris,” he tells her, eyes darting across her face. He, at least, lowers his voice so that they aren’t making a scene. “I’m, literally, a fucking mess around you. I don’t know, I'm just trying to make you think I’m confident, so you don’t think I’m too boring or, or before you realize that there’s someone better out there for you.”

He holds her gaze, blue-green eyes keeping her captive. It’s all she can do to keep from falling into him, from blurting out her newfound revelation. It’s all she can do to not weep at the fact that he’s apparently in this too, that she isn’t the only one losing her shit right now.

“Iris, you asked me what I was doing to you. And I told you it’s nothing that you aren’t doing to me. And that’s the truth. Whatever you got, I'm probably so far past that already.”

The words get stuck, then, the song that’s been playing in her head since she saw him this evening, since she’s thought of what it would be like to be desired by someone like this, since she was a little girl dreaming, the sound like loving you has taken time, take time; but I always knew you could be mine, the melody one that skips in tune with her heart every time Barry makes these grand declarations like he’s just done.

He gives her another peck on the mouth, likely figuring that she’s lost all mental function. He isn’t wrong, and when Wally calls for his attention again, he gives her one more caress before turning back to him.

Still dazed, Iris turns and locks eyes with Linda who’s gazing at her in concern.

“You okay, Iris?” She eyes Barry over her shoulder. “That seemed pretty intense.”

“Can we talk?” Because Linda and Dan had been like this, enamored with each other. And Iris just wants to get it right. “Not right now, but later in the week?”

Linda nods. “Yeah, okay. Of course we can.” She takes a hold of both of Iris’s hands and gives a good squeeze. “But I see you retreating right now. Don’t. We’ll talk later, but don’t space out here. Stay in this moment; stay in this feeling.”

She looks up at her best friend. Iris can admit that she thought she knew love. She’s seen it in others, she’s written about it. But feeling it, at least what she thinks might be the beginning of it, is overwhelming. So she attempts to do as her friend asks and stay in the moment.

The parents leave around 10, with strict instructions to not tear apart the restaurant. The Parks have offered the place ‘til about 1, likely even later. With the tables pushed back, white strobe lights turned on, and the DJ from CCU already set up, the place could almost be mistaken for a club. More of Wally’s friends, or at least, more people he knows from school, those who weren’t invited to the more intimate dinner part of the night, start to file in and an off-duty cop that their dad has hired is manning the door. Iris’s 21st birthday had consisted of her own dinner at Golden’s and a night out at some bar downtown, but she thinks that Wally has got the right idea, making it more exclusive like this.

In an effort to “stay in the moment” (and not freak out about the fact that she’s officially acknowledged that she’s fallen into some sort of infatuation with Barry Allen), Iris orders her second of the birthday cocktail and sits down at the bar alongside Dan and Linda to watch the younger adults dance to the music. A tall woman in a pretty gold dress has a camera looped around her neck and is taking pictures of her classmates, all in their white, gold, or black party outfits. She’d gotten a few family portraits earlier, some of Linda and Iris, and one of Barry and Iris that had been meant to be pretty simple, them standing next to each other with Iris leaned in close, Barry holding on to her waist. But he’s standing just slightly behind her, with his big hand spread over her hip, and he’s looking down at her as she smiles softly for the camera. The photographer had shown them the photo after and it was the first time she had seen them together, the first time she can maybe see what he means when he tells her that he’s so far past wherever she is right now. But, and Iris can see it now, is feeling it now: he may not be as far past her as he thinks.

Now, Linda and Iris are the de facto chaperones for the night, a task that Linda is taking seriously as she hops up every few minutes to make sure no one is tearing up her parents’ place. Barry, who’d been talking to her dad before he left, strolls over to her, expression calm. He walks right into her, positioning himself between her legs, planting his hands right on her hips.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Iris, in the process of looping her arm around his neck, pulls back until only her hand is circling his throat. “What are you sorry for?”

“I told you that I would,” he waves a hand as he tries to find his words, “that I would give you the time that you need. And I told myself that I would take it easy, that I wouldn’t pressure you. But I think earlier, I, I was…”

“Wait, no.” She shakes her head, stopping him. She has to lean in closer, because the DJ has just started up and the music is loud in the relatively small space, in addition to her currently drunk brother and his friends singing along loudly to the song. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just trying to figure out what it all means. This is, this is new to me, and I’m just...”

He nods slowly when she trails off, flicking his pink tongue out to swipe across his mouth. Iris follows the action, eyes darting up when his lips start to curve up.

“I’m here until you figure it out.” He steps closer, closing the distance between them. Her legs wrap around his waist automatically, hands sliding up until they’re holding onto her hips. “And in the meantime, we can get a little tipsy and make out like we’re 21 again.”

“Oh, so you did a lot of drunk making out at 21?”

His eyes go big. “Of course not. Just maybe once or twice, you know.” He taps her hip. “And with no one as pretty as you.”

Iris barks out a laugh. “Nice save.”

He grins wide. “Yeah. I thought so too.”

He orders another drink too, and Allegra smirks at the both of them, her version of a smile, as she sets their drinks down.

Iris grabs her drink and raises the glass. “Let’s toast.”

“Okay,” Barry agrees. “What are we toasting to?”

“New relationships?” she tries.

“Sure,” he nods. “And to figuring it out.”

They clink glasses.

She doesn’t know how long it takes Barry to get her alone in a dark corner, grinding on one another to the music. They sit at the bar for a little while longer, until they finish their cocktails. They order another, though Iris asks for more of whatever mixers are being used than champagne. They don’t try to talk much since they can’t really hear one another without shouting at the other. Instead, they watch the younger crowd dance for a while. Iris turns her chair all the way around so that she can keep an eye, and Barry sits down beside her. He’s turned to the side so that he can crowd her, legs wide, both of his hands touching her.

At one point, Linda stands up and walks through the crowd in her tall black strappy heels and leather pants. She straightens the sheer white blouse she’s got tucked into her pants and grabs the microphone from the DJ.

“Alright,” she starts amidst groans from the crowd when the music is cut. “Oh hush it.” She searches out the crowd until she finds Wally and then she smiles at him. “So Iris and I really want to thank you all for coming out tonight; she’s not up here because speaking in front of crowds isn’t really her thing, but I know I speak for us both when I say that we’re so happy to celebrate my honorary baby brother. Get drunk, but don’t forget to tip the bartender. Have fun, but not enough that you tear my parents’ shit up. And as we’re drinking and dancing, let’s remember the beautiful man that we’re here to love on. I’m so incredibly lucky that you let me into your life when I made my way into Iris’s. Happy birthday and I love you, Wally.”

Wally blows a kiss at Linda and then turns to catch Iris’s eyes. She sees the sheen of unshed tears in Wally’s and he mouths an “I love you” at her that she immediately mouths back. Up front, Linda starts to move away from the mic and then comes back. “And one round of shots on me!”

The music starts back up and the partiers get back into the groove. Iris and Barry sit for moments longer, until the music changes to something lower, sultrier, the lyrics seductive, i-i recognize the butterflies inside me, ah; sense is gonna be made tonight, tonight; all you gotta do is say yes, the beat one that she can feel in every part of her. Barry must feel it too.

“Dance with me,” he requests, standing, and she nods, taking his hand and following him out. He finds them a spot off to the opposite end of the DJ, further away from where the crowd of dancers have also begun to pair off, to fall victim to the beat of this song. Barry stands with his back against the wall, near where a curtain hangs shadowed from the others, and he turns Iris until her ass is pressed firmly against his front.

She begins to rock, winding her hips in easy circles, letting her body learn the rhythm of the song, all you gotta do is say yes, letting her body get lost in the music, lost in the crooned commands as the artists sing, don’t deny what you feel, let me undress you, baby. He matches her, swaying with her, touching on her as he does. He holds onto her, one hand pressed just beneath her breasts, the other right above her pelvis. She lets her head fall back onto his shoulder, wrapping her arm behind her around his neck. Barry leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek, her ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth, with his tongue, sucking on her.

“Hmmm,” she purrs, grinding back against him, humming along, open up your mind and just rest; i’m about to let you know that you make me so, so...

“I’ve been watching you,” Barry tells her, whispering it into her ear over the music. “In this dress all fucking night. Do you know what it’s been doing to me?”

She shakes her head in response to his question.

“It’s been driving me crazy,” he responds. “Wally’s little friends have been watching you, probably wanting to touch you like I’ve been wanting to do all night.”

She doesn’t stop dancing, hips moving slow to one side, slower to the other, Barry moving with her. He grinds behind her, holding her tight against him. She can feel him start to swell against her ass and she closes her eyes at the feeling, at the sound of his voice, rough and arousal-soaked, speaking in her ear.

“You walked up to me on the street with this leg out.” He rubs down as much of her thigh as he can reach and then back up. “Your skin glowing and that sexy mouth of yours smiling at me.”

He tips his fingers back up her thigh and he reaches under her dress and across her pelvis. Her legs spread as she bends her knees, still in time to the music, but it gives him more access. The panties she’s got on are black and high cut, and Barry caresses her bare bikini line. Her grip tightens on his neck, bringing them even closer, making it easier to slide his fingers even further into her panties.

“Barry,” she whispers, and she knows he can’t hear her. But he doesn’t need to because he taps her on her pelvis, his longest finger catching on her clit.

“Don’t worry,” he says, “I’m not gonna finger fuck you out here.”

Iris realizes, as he says it, that maybe she wouldn’t hate it; because the singers are saying, you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, and he does, make her so so so...and she’s feeling it, feeling him, wondering what people might see if they looked over, wondering why the thought of it makes her stomach clench, a little in embarrassment, a little more in something that makes the clench move lower, her sex clamping around where she wants his fingers, where she wants his dick.

She turns, wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him. It gets deep fast, with Iris licking into Barry’s mouth and Barry returning her kiss with fervor. She grips at the hair at the nape of his neck, and he reaches down, gripping a firm handful of her ass to bring her closer. She moans into his mouth, catching his answering groan.

She pulls back. “Come with me.”

She takes his hand and leads him through the crowd. No one is paying much attention to them; Wally is still in the middle of the floor, dancing against a tall good looking dark-skinned man. Linda is out there too, Dan dancing his normal one-two step move as Linda leans close to him, her arms looped around his neck. Iris takes Barry to the back, down the hall that leads past the kitchen. The bathrooms are there, and Iris checks to make sure no one is coming before she pushes through the door and leads him inside. She takes him to the last and the largest of the three stalls, past the three gold circular mirrors above clean white sinks; her shoes are loud on the black marble floors.

“You know,” Barry says as she locks the stall door behind her. He grabs for her, clutching her hand. “You claimed it was me who got you to do stuff like this, but you brought me back here.”

She lifts her eyebrow at him, even as she moves past him to lean against the wall. “You saying you don’t want me in here?”

She positions herself so that her leg is peeking out from the long slit in her dress. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her.

Except maybe she does.

The weight of her earlier revelation sits heavy on her, and the song that’s been playing, the you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sits just as heavy, pushing on her thighs, and on her heart too; and Iris needs to do something with it, needs to let go of some of this feeling, to get out the parts that might start to be too much, that are already beginning to flood her, so that she can make sense of what’s really there.

So she looks Barry in the eye, runs her manicured nails over her throat, down through her cleavage, over her belly until she can touch at the top of her thigh. She opens the skirt, showing him the panties he’d been playing with earlier, the lace around her waist, the thin fabric that shows exactly what it’s supposed to be covering.

“Bear?”

He’s over to her in two long strides. He plants both of his hands on the wall behind her, crowding her.

“I want you wherever you want me,” he tells her. “On your couch, on a blanket in the woods, in as many places in this restaurant as you’ll let me fuck you in.”

He licks his lips, but he doesn’t move to touch her. Instead, he thrusts his hips against her so that she can feel him, hard and solid against her pelvis.

“This is what you do to me, baby. I think about you and I’m like this.” He pushes against her one more time and then tells her to “turn around.”

She does. And the next few moments are like something out of a film, how rushed they are, how passionate. He presses her against the wall and touches her as he rubs his dick on her ass, slipping his hand into the top of her dress to play with her breasts. Her bra is made of the same thin material as her panties and he alternates between squeezing the whole of her breast and then pinching at the nipples, and then moving to the other to do more of the same. He kisses her wherever his mouth catches her: in her hair, on her cheek, on her shoulders when her dress starts to slide. They’re both breathing heavily; Iris is grinding back onto Barry where he’s so goddamn hard behind her, his sex swollen and his chest covering her. Her hands are clenching and unclenching into fists as she bangs lightly on the wall, moaning deep in her throat, humming her pleasure, you make me so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so...

Iris hears the clank of his belt unbuckling. And her pussy is ready for him, slick and throbbing as she looks behind her to see him shoving his pants past his knees, gripping and then tearing open a condom he’s gotten from somewhere, caressing his own thick dick as he rolls it on. He leans over and kisses her, wet and sloppy, holding her in this position until he’s done devouring her mouth. Then he turns her back to the wall and lifts her dress, draping it above her waist. The cool air hits her heated flesh, and that contact, and Barry’s fingers spreading her thighs, and Barry pushing her panties to the side, rubbing along her slit to make sure she’s ready for him, it makes her moan loud and long.

Barry pushing into her cuts her off.

Her heels put her at the perfect height to arch her back into him, to take him in.

“Shit, Iris,” he murmurs. He pulls out, pushes back in, pulls out to the tip, pushes back in, and Iris knocks her forehead against the wall. “All the time,” he tells her, “I, I think about being in this pussy all the time.”

Her pussy opens for him, when he says that, letting him in deeper. Barry finds a rhythm, short strokes first, shallow and brief; and then longer strokes that bury him in, that smacks his pelvis against her ass. She loves the feel of him behind her, even if she misses being able to touch him, but the feel of his kissing on her and touching on her and fucking so hard into her more than makes up for it.

And then the door opens. Iris hears the music grow louder for several seconds and the unsteady clack of multiple pairs of heels and the drunken laughter of the women walking.

Iris whimpers, the sound turning into a moan because Barry doesn’t stop, just keeps riding her, gripping her waist tight. She holds in the moan she wants to let out, holds in how much she wants to slap her hand against the wall since she can’t. Barry angles himself closer to her.

“I think you like it, Iris,” he murmurs into her ear. “As soon as that door opened, you got wetter, baby.”

“Ahhh,” she breathes heavily as he pumps into her.

“You like it when you could get caught, huh? When someone might hear you?”

Iris shuts her eyes tight, shakes her head, and then bites down on her lip to keep from yelling out. But he feels so good, so thick and hard, and the feeling’s curling thick in her belly, thicker in her walls quivering around him. And he might not necessarily be wrong, that she likes it, the possibility of being caught, the fact that she could be heard. The loud laughter she’d heard when the door opened has quieted to softer giggles now; maybe they think she’s so into this that she doesn’t notice that the door never opened again, but they’re still there, amused by what’s happening. And from the way she keeps tightening on Barry’s dick, the way she’s pushing back against him, harder and harder, she’s more than into this.

“No? You don’t like this?” Barry questions and he shifts her dress even higher up her waist, pressing her harder into the wall.

“Fuck,” she grunts at the contact.

He gives a short, breathy chuckle. “Don’t worry. I like it too.” He reaches up and pulls her lip from between her teeth. “Don’t hold back. Let them hear you. Louder, baby.” He keeps rocking into her, as he moves that same hand down her chin, down the line of her neck, until he wraps a hand around the base of her throat. “Moan for me louder. Let them know who’s fucking you in here, baby.”

“Oohhh, yes,” she moans, only a touch louder.

He rubs a hand over her exposed ass cheek, softly, reverently. And then he pulls her hand back and smacks her hard.

“Barryyyyy!” She yells. Her rhythm falters and her head falls back against his shoulder. The arch in her back deepens and it pushes him even deeper.

“Just like that,” Barry groans.

“Damn,” she hears one of the girls in the bathroom breathe.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” another says.

“After I’m done texting Chris to see if I can come over after this.”

There is another round of laughs and Barry laughs again against her throat. “They like what I’m doing to you too.”

There’s a light thin layer of sweat on her skin, the sheen on her face and her chest, down her thighs. She’s wet, (god, she always gets so wet with him), and she’s dripping out around his dick. Her dress is probably going to be ruined.

But none of that matters. All that does is the sensations she’s feeling. Sex with Barry always takes up every one of her senses, and this is no different: she can taste the champagne still on her tongue, the mint from his when he’d kissed her; she can smell the citrus of the lemongrass on his skin, the rose water on her own, the heady scent of their arousal filling her nostrils; she can’t physically see much, with her eyes constantly shut tight, but she can picture it, picture them, his pants down at his ankles, legs as wide as they can go, her dress hiked up over her hips, the long length of him sliding in and out of her soaked pussy from behind; the feel of her breasts pressed into the cool wall, his fingers pressed into her throat, her hand clutching onto that same wrist; the soft sound of their breathing, the girls speaking softly, the music still playing, matching her cries, singing ah, ah, yea-yeah, yeah, yea-yeah; oh right there, right there, right there; right there, right there; right there, oh, oh, mm, mmm.

“Tell me what you want, Iris,” Barry groans. “Tell me, tell them, fuck, baby…”

“Harder,” she says, wanting to come, needing him to get her there. “Harder, Bear, fuck me…”

He does. He shifts again so that he can push all the way into her, riding her ass, and he long strokes into her, knocking against something that makes her quiver, harder and harder, a little bit faster, but always good, so good, so good, so, so, so…

“Barry.” Her orgasm hits her just as hard as he’s been doing. She doesn’t even realize it’s coming, not until her entire body seizes up, even her toes curl in her shoes, and she pushes back on Barry, squeezing him tight. It triggers his own and he grips her waist as he spills into her, the feel of his throbbing dick prolonging her climax, making her fall back into him until she’s completely spent.

“Did you, uh, do a lot of this when you were 21 and tipsy making out?”

Iris stands against the wall of the stall, looking down at her dress for stains, holding her underwear in her hands because she couldn’t stand the wet feel of them on her. The bathroom is quiet now, save for the faint music still coming from the front. She knows that they should hurry before someone else comes in, but she can’t really move yet.

Barry laughs as he shoves himself back into his pants and buckles back up. He’s already tied the condom up and flushed it down the toilet.

“God, no. The most I could get was a little over the shirt boob action.”

Iris shakes her head, a little fondly. “Please never say boob action again.”

“No?” He rubs his hand down the front of his sweater. “That’s not sexy?”

Iris shakes her head again as he walks back over to her. “Not even a little bit. That’s probably why you weren’t getting any.”

“You’re probably right. But I’ve upped my game now.”

Iris laughs. “You’ve upped your game?”

He nods, a goofy little grin on his face. He stops in front of her and takes one of her hands in his.

“Yeah. We did a little dancing, a little touching.” He wiggles his eyebrows and grabs at the panties in her hand, holding them up. “And I got you to fuck me in a bathroom.”

“Oh?” Iris watches as he puts the panties into his pockets. “You got me to fuck you?” She looks down at herself, and then sticks her leg out further. The slit of this dress, the shoes, the way the dress drapes her frame is undoubtedly a tongue-tier. Barry nods, swallows, and meets her gaze again, those eyes doing that graying thing she’s found she loves.

“Y-yeah. We can, uh, we can share the credit.”

Iris laughs out loud at that. “Come on,” she squeezes his hand and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Let’s get out of here. We’re already gonna have to sneak out. What if those girls tell Wally? I can’t believe you had me doing all that.”

They leave the bathroom stall, heading for the door.

“It’s my game,” Barry replies, and Iris hides her laughter as they slip back into the party.

She looks for Wally to tell him that she’s leaving. Luckily, he’s at the bar, laughing with Allegra and the man he was dancing with earlier.

“Iris!” he shouts when he sees her. “Barry!”

Iris laughs as she steps into his open arms. “Are you having a good time, baby?”

“I’m having the best time.” He squeezes her. “I bet you are too.”

He looks over her shoulder at Barry and when she turns too, she sees a bit of color in his cheeks.

“What are you talking about?” she deflects.

Wally’s shrug is not at all sly. “I heard that someone was in the ladies’ room screaming out ‘Barry.’” He winks at Barry who goes even redder. “You should probably be glad Xuan and Theo think of you as a daughter.”

She rolls her eyes, even as she turns her head to hide her embarrassment. “We just came to tell you that we’re leaving. I’ve got class in the morning.”

“Of course,” Wally says, nodding. “And you’re both probably tired.”

“Okay, bye,” Iris starts to move out of his arms.

Wally laughs and tightens his arms around her. “I’m only kidding, big sis.” Then his smile turns softer and he casts another glance at Barry, before reaching down and cupping her cheek.

“This man is gone over you, Iris,” he says softly. “And I’m so happy for you. Nobody I know deserves a love like this more than you do.”

Iris gives him a smile and then another quick hug. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He pulls Barry in for a hug. “So good to officially meet you.”

“You too, man.”

And with that, Barry takes her hand and leads him out, and Iris follows beside him, overcome with what she’s feeling for him. She’d thought the sex might give her some space to think, but it’s only really just heightened it. They are still in the rising action of this story, gliding higher and higher on a diagram, climbing towards a climax she’s becoming excited to experience.

She’s only scared of what might happen when they come down from it.

All you gotta do is say yes

(Don't deny what you feel, let me)

#westallen fanfiction #barry x iris #iris west #barry allen #strangers to lovers

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