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Their relationship so far has been a series of escalating dares.
Leonard finds he likes Barry best like this, all used up and spat out. Corrupting staunch morals is all good and fun, but there is something to having them come pre-corrupted. At the very least it's awfully convenient. And there's something unpredictable to him these days; it's hard to tell how much Leonard'll have to push before he bends. Leonard prods and provokes and waits for Barry to say uncle. These days, he doesn't say it often.
Barry was essentially his as soon as he and Patty imploded, something anyone could have seen coming a mile away. Barry was too tired to really try with anyone new, and he had no love left to give. When Barry is getting tense and snappish, when his spine has hunched from too many hours bent over a microscope in the crime lab, when melancholy has its thin hand around his throat - well, Leonard knows there's just one thing to be done in situations like that.
He likes Barry best when he's a little sullen, which is probably why he chooses to cultivate it with goading and loaded remarks. It just looks too deliciously good on him. His lips were made for pouting, his jaw for clenching. His voice gets lower, morose and mumbling. It all just puts such a skip in Leonard's step, has him backing the speedster up against walls and fingering the zipper of the Flash suit. He likes that Barry never gives in right away; he makes Leonard work for his acquiescence. He's not sure how much of it is a game, lately. He's not even sure if game is the right word for whatever it is they're doing.
Leonard hadn't planned to see him today but he'd glanced up at the TV earlier and caught the tail end of a local news and talk show, talking heads droning on, the sound turned down to where it was barely audible. A remote shot of the Flash's latest public throw down had Leonard fish out the remote, turning the sound back up. This particular meta looked like he'd actually given Barry a run for his money, escaping the cuffs Barry had almost managed to put on him by shrinking down to the size of a ping-pong ball, only to grow back as tall as a building and attempt to crush the Flash with his foot like an ant. It seemed like it would be a useful power to have, and Barry had looked more than a little banged up after the meta drop-kicked a car directly at him, but Leonard didn't need to watch the replay in its entirety to know Barry had pulled through and saved the day yet again, wild yellow lightning crackling all over his body as he picked himself up and threw his body right back into battle. Leonard had kept one eye on the TV while he reached for the blueprints he'd been going over, rolling them up and tucking them neatly away before heading out.
He invites himself to Barry's apartment, letting himself in with the key Barry definitely did not give him. He is greeted by the distant sound of the shower. He leaves his clothes on the living room floor before padding silently to the bathroom. He takes a minute to appreciate Barry's silhouette through the steam, and then drums four fingernails against the glass to announce his presence.
Barry jumps. "Jesus," he says, glaring at Leonard. "I thought my life had turned into a slasher flick. I thought I was about to be ax-murdered."
"I'd be more subtle than an ax, Barry," Leonard says, though the sheer theatricality of it does appeal to him.
Barry's lips quirk slightly. "Snart, you're like Disney villain levels of unsubtle."
Fingers wrap around the door handle and pull, releasing a fresh cloud of hot steam as Leonard steps under the water still in his underwear. He does so because he knows how his cock will look, thickly outlined against the material of his soaking wet stone gray boxer briefs. He also does it because he likes how Barry takes them off him: roughly pushing them down Leonard's hips, hands sliding over his ass.
"Why do you bother pretending you don't want to see me?" Leonard purrs, leaning in close. The water has slicked Barry's hair back and it draws the eye along his cheekbones wonderfully. The shadow of stubble doesn't hurt either.
"I don't want to see you," he says. "Fucking you's a different thing."
Leonard loves it when he's mean. That combined with the briefs still caught on his thighs, skin still tingling with Barry's rough removal of them, is setting sparks off low in his body.
"Oh Barry," he coos, "I do love it when you try to talk dirty."
Barry rolls his eyes, hands closing around Leonard's upper arms to pull him against his chest. "Fuck off."
Leonard presses close instead. He can't keep his teeth off Barry's skin, wants to mark him up, wants to make it hurt. The good kind, mostly. Barry has the same idea, no tenderness in his touches, hustling Leonard around, knocking him into glass doors and shower pipes. Leonard can feel the intent to bruise in Barry's fingertips, and he wants to be bruised. If he bothers him enough Barry will usually kiss him to shut him up. He kisses Leonard now with all that never-released anger still coiled up inside him, one hand sliding down to grab his ass again. Leonard puts his hands on Barry's face, really holds him there, cups Barry's jaw in his palms and sinks into the kiss.
He breaks the kiss abruptly, Barry's mouth flushed and both of them breathing a little hard. Leonard allows Barry to keeps a steadying hand on his elbow while he steps out of his briefs, and then he gives Barry a little push back against the warm tile wall, fingertips following droplets of water as they tumble down his skin.
Barry's hard already, no surprise there. Leonard's fingers curl around him loosely, giving a slow, almost contemplative stroke. "What do you want?" he asks.
Barry doesn't answer, jaw tightening and lips pressing together. He doesn't like to be so open, at least not with Leonard.
"Something like this?" Leonard trails scattered kisses over Barry's chest, mouth moving down to his stomach and slightly protruding hipbones. "You’re not very communicative today, Barry."
He smiles against Barry's skin, feeling his slight intake of breath at Leonard's proximity to his dick. He still doesn't say anything but Leonard takes pity on him anyway, giving his hipbone one sharp nip before sinking to his knees. Fingertips pressed into Barry's hips to hold him flat to the wall, Leonard teases him a little, lips against his thigh with just the hint of teeth behind them. He doesn't touch Barry's dick at all, now so hard it curves up towards his stomach, but instead leaves flushed, mouth-shaped marks all over the inside of Barry's thighs; instead takes Barry's balls into his mouth for long, torturous minutes; instead moves lower, closer, curls his tongue briefly against contracting flesh but doesn't do more. Then he pulls away.
Barry's breathing is so slow he might be holding it, so Leonard wraps a hand around him again and gives him a few more careful strokes, with hardly enough pressure or much enthusiasm. Barry fidgets a little and Leonard fixes his mouth to his thigh, sucking a determined bruise onto frustratingly perfect alabaster skin.
Barry doesn't touch him, back of his head hitting the wall with a thunk, his hands scrubbing over his own face as he mumbles, "Are you kidding me?"
It's enough for the moment. Leonard looks up at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes and smiles before taking him gently into his mouth, hand around the base of his cock. He's releasing him just as soon as Barry sighs in relief, lips moving along the length of him, tongue flicking out just to taste his wet, clean skin. This close he smells like water and rather heavily scented body wash, the expensive one he's been buying since that failure of a relationship with Detective Spivot. Leonard's used to fucking him in dirty back alleys and remembers it not being half so luxurious, so maybe Patty was good for something at the end of the day.
Leonard presses his lips to the tip of Barry's cock in something like a kiss, then sucks just the head into his mouth, tongue against that spot on the underside that always makes Barry shudder. And then he pulls off again.
Barry does groan, following it with something that might be a strangled, frustrated laugh. "Lenny," he says, which is something else Leonard only likes coming from him - though he'll tolerate it from Lisa. "You're killing me."
"You know what I want, Barry," Leonard tells him, hand moving slowly over his cock. "You know what you have to do. Is this what you want?"
There is a lovely flush creeping up Barry's throat that might be partially due to the heat of the room but either way compliments his discomfort nicely. He's fighting with himself a little, hilariously, but after a minute's dithering, he says, "Yes."
"Hm." Leonard sits back on his heels. "Not good enough. Try again." Barry glares at him. "What? Say it like you mean it and maybe I'll be convinced."
Barry takes another moment, bottom lip between his teeth, annoyance written clearly on his face. He sighs and shifts, hips restless, and Leonard is really enjoying himself immensely. "Yes," Barry says again, and, "Please," voice quiet and almost earnest, looking down at him with those big hazel eyes.
And Leonard is satisfied. He takes Barry in his mouth again but gives it the proper attention this time, taking him in deep, cheeks hollowing. Hands on Barry's ass to urge him to thrust into his mouth so he can take him deeper, all the way, swallowing around him. One hand clenches tight around nothing and he cups Leonard's cheek with the other, thumb moving to feel the stretch of Leonard's lips around his cock. The touch startles Leonard, his throat working suddenly, and he looks up for the first time.
Barry's eyes are half-closed and he looks a little dazed, but there's an alertness to him too, a challenge. It's that stupid tingling thing again, all these little punches to the chest. He wants Barry to lay him out on the bed and fuck him. He wants to stay here on his knees until he makes Barry melt down the wall. He wants to tease Barry for hours, keep him right on the edge; wants to get him off right now, messy and abrupt - once, Barry told him he was the best at this, with that inflection, the best, and Leonard'd horrified him with the story of how that came to be, which was several hours of Mick's forceful and unceasing instruction way back in juvie, 'til Leonard had all but gotten rid of that troublesome gag reflex.
He sucks Barry down again, lips almost meeting the base of Barry's cock, and then pulls up torturously slow. He does it a few times, takes Barry deep in his throat and swallows and then lets him slide out slow, dirty. He does it until Barry is practically clawing at the back of his neck, until Barry is good and flushed, and then he can't resist letting his fingers move a little lower, tracing the little dimples at the top of Barry's ass, then dipping down into his crack and pressing two of them to Barry's hole, just to feel the warmth of him. Barry can't completely stop the groan that rises deep in his chest and Leonard can't help crooking his fingers a couple times, just barely, tugging at his rim just to hear the way he whines.
Leonard idly wishes he could let his fingers sink a little deeper inside, but Barry's too tight for anything even if they did have lube at hand, always requires slow and tender opening up, courtesy of the rapid healing factor that won't let his body get loose long enough to accommodate the intrusion. It's claustrophobic in the best possible way, something about the way Barry struggles to take him every time, even with extensive prep, touching something in Leonard's mind, making everything seem brighter and hotter and filthier. Just the thought has Leonard wrapping a hand around his own cock while his mouth moves faster on Barry's.
The touch of his own hand on himself sends his pulse rocketing. He'd known the sight of Barry like this, the sounds he's been making, the way he's given himself over completely, had been turning him on, making him hard. But he had no idea how worked up he'd gotten, how neglected his own cock had been, until now. He comes much too quickly, a moan in his throat vibrating against Barry and with one more swallow Barry is coming too, one arm over his face, other hand gripping the bar fastened to the wall.
The weird part is after when Barry sinks down and puts his arms around Leonard, his forehead against Leonard's shoulder. Water pounds down around them, considerably cooler now. Barry gets strange about being held after sometimes, even though he keeps himself distant during, and Leonard has never been able to get used to it, usually just patting him awkwardly before extracting himself. But every once in a while, like now, he thinks oh what the hell and rests his chin on Barry's hair, drapes his arms around him.