Working Legs (Part 8) [a Barry Allen AU]
a/n: sorry about my lack of posts, i’ve been so sick
Barry couldn’t hold back the groan when light slithered through the curtains. Is it really morning already? It isn’t until he hears a giggle and reality hits him like a fucking bus. Images of last night, you underneath him, panting, moaning, flood through his mind. It takes his eyes a few seconds to adjust before he looks to his side.
“I need a shower…” he mutters, voice gravelly and raspy. Barry blinks again, pushing himself up by his elbows. The bed shifts, following his movements at ease. You sit up, gray comforter falling from your shoulders, exposing your naked torso. He smiles sheepishly, peering down at his body, which is covered by your red lipstick marks. Wow, there’s a lot. “Um…do you…would you…” he scratches the back of his neck, “Shower?”
You break into a grin, leaning over to peck his lips, thumb brushing the mark perfectly imprinted on his pale, freckled cheek. “Sure, love. Let me just get your chair, okay?” He nods, watching you swing your legs off the bed, standing up. He can’t help but stare at the curve of your ass as you make your way over to his wheelchair, which is parked by the closet. How it got there is beyond him.
Biting your lip, you tuck your hair behind your ear, leaning over the joystick. Okay, so the on/off button is at the top… you press it, jumping a little when the chair beeps; Barry giggles. This is adorable. Deciding for the best, you sit in the seat, curling your hand around the joystick and thrusting it forward. The chair moves really fast, to your surprise, but you manage, with a lot of breaks, to park it at the edge of the bed, closest to your boyfriend.
Grinning from ear to ear, he flops the blanket off, pushing himself by his hands. His biceps flex, arms reaching to the chair to pull himself up. You watch his muscles move underneath his skin, trying to control yourself. “You are so strong…” you whisper in a daze; he blushes down his bare chest, positioning himself in the chair. “So… how long did it take for…” you trail off, poking his bicep.
Barry gulps; he never thought he was strong… sure, he had to be able to hold himself up, but he just brushed it off. “I don’t know. I never really noticed…” he admits, moss green eyes following your ass while you sit in his lap. He wishes he could feel his legs right now. “I’m not…” he starts driving towards the bathroom, “I don’t work out, if that’s what you’re thinking.” he babbles, wheels squeaking on the brown speckled tiled floor.
Humming, you card your fingers through his messy brown locks, tugging on them slightly. His thick, full eyelashes bat against his cheeks for a moment. “Barry, I love you.” you whisper when he stops his chair at the edge of the shower, kissing his lips before climbing off his lap. Thankfully, his dick is behaving.
“I love you, too.” he muses, turning his chair off, eyes glued to yours. You grin, hands clasped in front of your stomach, palms pressed to skin. Licking his lips, he scoots to the edge of his seat, reaching towards the clear bar nestled into the shower wall. His fingers grab a hold of it, yanking himself up; you suddenly are on high alert, arms outstretched. “I’m fine, babe.” he chuckles, spinning himself around so he can land on the seat that’s attached to the wall. He looks at you, waiting. “Are…are you gonna…join me…or just look at me?” he asks awkwardly.
Sheepishly, you step in, “Sorry, you’re just…handsome.” you blush, squatting down in front of him.
Barry thinks his heart just busted a nut. His face flushes, making his moles more prominent on his cheeks. “You’re so beautiful.” he grins, pushing the hair from your eyes. “It’s gonna be really cold, get ready.” he laughs, watching your face scrunch up. When the water spews from the shower head, your mouth opens, shrieking as the icy droplets hit your back. He chuckles, water spraying him, “I told you! Don’t worry, it’ll warm up in a sec.”
And it does. In a short time, the water turns warm and you sigh, reaching for the bottle of shampoo. “Can I?” you ask, popping the top off; he nods. Squirting some in the palm of your hand, you comb through his hair, creating foam and giggle when his eyelids flutter closed. “Feel good?” He hums, bobbing his head up and down. “Want me to do your body too?” you question, shampoo dripping off your fingers.
“If… if you don’t mind?” he says bashfully, eyeing how you grab the bar of soap, rubbing it so it’s sudsy. “C-could I, um, help you after?” he mumbles, unsure if that was appropriate to ask. His body tingles, feeling the smooth bar of soap run up and down his abs; a sigh escapes his swollen lips.
You continue moving the bar up his chest, to his arms, down to his hands. “Of course, sweetheart.” you reassure, wiping water off his eyelashes before going to his thighs. He cracks a sad smile. “I know you can’t feel this, I’m sorry.” you frown, scrubbing his hairy legs, fingers trailing up and down.
He swallows, “Don’t be; it’s not your fault… I’m happy.” he sniffles, cupping your cheek as his mop of wet hair dangles in his eyes. “I’m really happy…” he smiles, pecking your forehead, “Now can I wash your hair, please?”