send me a ❖ and my muse will kiss yours
It was no secret that Wally West had a huge, undeniable mancrush on Roy Harper. It was an irrefutable fact that everyone –and by everyone, mostly Dick– reminded Wally of every time the archer’s name was brought up in conversation. The speedster, in turn, would turn a few shades darker in a deep set, embarrassed flush and deny the accusations out right. Because Roy was his friend, Roy was older, and, mainly, Roy was a dude.
Though now, as Wally straddled the archer’s lap, fingers tangled and threaded through his hair, arousal grinding downward to create a friction that fogged up his mind and made him see stars, he couldn’t quite give a damn about his previous reservations.
How, exactly, he found himself in this... position, he could only vaguely remember. A mission almost gone wrong, he recalled while gasping against Roy’s lips as his hair was given a sharp tug. Would’ve probably left Wally in the hospital for a few weeks, even with his accelerated healing. Which would have totally sucked.
Good thing that Mr. Harper himself just so happened to be in the vicinity and graciously lent a helping hand to the Team, allowing them to revel in victory with only minor battle wounds as consequence. It was times like these when Wally truly missed the dynamic that occurred whenever he worked side by side with the archer. Artemis was great and all (well maybe not ‘great’ but she sure was something–) but in Wally’s eyes, Roy would always be irreplaceable.
And when he had called out, “I’ll catch up with you in a sec!” to his team, his only intentions were to thank Roy, one on one, maybe even ask him for the dozenth time to hang out, only to be given a false yes garnering futile hope.
But, for some reason, be it the adrenaline high of the aftermath of battle, or simply a build up of emotions that were a long time coming, Wally couldn't get the words out. He fumbled for a few seconds, stuttering and tripping over nervous laughter before finally going silent.
It might have been Roy’s confused look, possibly even the awkward silence that followed, that compelled Wally to surge forward, to do the impulsive, the unthinkable; to act on his own well buried desires and fill in the blank lull of muteness with action.
Pressing his lips against Roy’s had been a compulsive, stupid move that Wally would have never dreamed would’ve been reciprocated. Sure, he knew good and well that Roy rivaled him in terms of flirtatiousness and trumped him in promiscuity but to think that even a move as radical as this would be returned?
Well, he wouldn’t dare question it.
For now he’d be content to grinding down on the other redhead’s groin in a way that’s as unholy as the noises pushing their way past his occupied lips; and enjoy the way the archer’s wandering hands traveled down his back to grab greedily at his backside.
Hopefully Roy was just as free for the rest of the night like Wally was because it would be a loooong time before he’d be willing to leave.
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