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Getting Barry’s powers back is easier than they had hoped. The metahuman who transferred their abilities hadn’t known they could do such a thing and is happy for a chance to make things right.
After Barry’s speed is restored, Iris channels her tangled emotions into trying to find the metahuman a safe place to go. She’s worried that someone with nefarious purposes (government as well as criminal) might see this meta as the key to making sure only their allies have powers. She doesn’t find anyone right away, but puts the word out as subtly as she can among her metahuman contacts and hopes that someone gets back to her.
It’s only once she and Barry are back home that she allows herself to feel how heartbreaking it is to be separated from her speed. She only had it for a day and a half, but that was ample time to realize why Barry feels incomplete without it. As reassuring as it is to settle back into being her nonpowered self, she feels dull and diminished, too.
“I’m sorry, Iris.” Barry pauses in the midst of speed-setting the table. “That’s thoughtless of me. You miss it, don’t you?”
She can’t lie to Barry. He knows her too well. “I do,” she agrees, and raises a hand to his cheek. He’s warm and vital under her palm, a contrast to how cold and fragile he’d felt only hours ago. “But you don’t have to apologize. It makes me happy to see you flashing around again. I could tell it hurt you to lose your speed.”
He nuzzles into her hand, vibrating a little so that he sounds like he’s purring. She can’t resist kissing him.
“Who can say no to a happy purring speedster?” she whispers, echoing her own words to Len a few weeks ago.
Barry nuzzles closer to her and goes half-cross-eyed to meet her gaze. “Let me serve you?” he murmurs, his breath fanning warmly over her skin. “Please?”
She coos. As sweet as it is to see him submit to her naturally, she loves it so much more when he takes ownership of it like this. It draws her attention to exactly how much vibrant, radiant power he’s laying at her feet. And if it reminds her, how much more must it bring that same knowledge to the front of his mind?
“Yes, baby. You may serve me.”
Barry pulls her chair out for her and guides her down into it. It’s not necessary, but it’s sweet, and she lavishes praise on him for it. He soaks it up until he's practically glowing with submissive delight, and even says, "Thank you for letting me serve you, Mistress," like such a good boy.
He piles her plate for her, pours her wine, and settles into the chair next to hers. Although they're on a level, the way his gaze stays worshipfully locked on her gives her the illusion that she’s on a throne, with him on a low stool at her side. She has a brief, power-drunk vision of putting him on his knees and making him pray to her before their meal, that she banishes the instant it forms. Barry needs his Mistress. He’s never asked for a Goddess.
“I expect you to eat until you’re full,” she orders as they tuck into their meal. “You have your speed back. I know how much you need now, better than I did before.”
“Yes, Mistress." Barry nods immediately, still glowing simply from being near her.
She keeps an eye on him through the meal. True to his word, he fills his plate three times before sitting back, languid and purring, looking as full and content as a speedster can be.
“Very good boy.” She leans over to kiss him. “Let me finish up, and then I’ll clear the table. Save you from having to do it at superspeed.”
She does just that. There aren’t many dishes, thankfully, so she finishes in record time (for a human). When she returns to the table to clear the place mats, Barry is staring at her with glazed eyes.
“Something on your mind, baby?” Her voice pitches down of its own accord. She may not have a speedster libido anymore, but she has a healthy human one and is more than happy to use it. (And Barry has his speedster libido back. She would be delighted to tease him for that.)
“He made you squirt through your jeans.” Barry sounds awed and vaguely jealous.
Heat rushes to Iris’s face. Her memory is a little hazy after edging for a speedster eternity, but there’s no forgetting the aftermath. She could have changed at superspeed before clearing the table. She didn’t, because the memory of what she’d just done would have made her soak through the new clothes too. “Yes,” she whispers. “He did.”
“He made you squirt through your jeans and I just sat out.” More of the incredulous jealousy colors Barry’s tone.
“I would have made room for you.” She means it to come out as a dominant purr. Instead, it’s quiet and shy. Remembering how effortlessly Len used her pussy against her makes her want to melt. She’d spilled all her secrets just to get permission to humiliate herself by coming on his thigh, and she'd have done more if he asked.
“No, I know, I chose to sit out,” Barry agrees. “I just can’t believe I did that.”
His eyes snap up to hers. Against her will, Iris whimpers. She’s never seen this look on Barry before. This is the Flash, staring at her with all the cocky confidence Barry never shows.
“Are you gonna let me run you to bed?”
Iris doesn’t trust her voice. She just nods.
The world spins around her. When it settles, she’s on her back, on the bed, naked. Barry is above her, wreathed in lightning, naked except for the shirt that he's hastily tugging off.
“He tore your bra apart.” Barry’s hands cup her breasts. Iris moans, long and loud, then blushes to the roots of her hair. She’s not this loud usually. When she’s in charge, she keeps as iron a grip on her pleasure as she keeps on Barry. But she’s not in charge right now. Barry is, and he’s using every pleasurable trick she’s ever taught him to take her apart.
“He did.” It comes out as a whisper. She arches up into Barry’s touch and is rewarded by his fingers vibrating over her nipples. If she was still a speedster, she’s sure she would come just from this. “Oh fuck…”
“How many times did he make you come?” Barry’s voice is firm, commanding. The Flash, again. Her Barry doesn’t sound like this.
She whines and shakes her head. She remembers the first time, in the dining room. Once they got to the bedroom, it all turned into a bit of a blur.
“How many times, Iris?” His fingers pinch down harder on her nipples. She moans again, louder.
“I-I don’t know! Four, five, something like that…”
Barry hums. Squeezes her breasts. Then decides, “I guess we’ll see if you can come five times without superspeed to help you, then, huh?”
Iris nods before her brain catches up with his words. Oh god. Five times. She’s made it to three, back in college when she was bored and had the dorm to herself and all the time in the world to figure out what made her feel good. She’s not sure if she’ll make it to five without passing out. She ought to say no.
She doesn’t say no.
Barry’s fingers trail down her belly, still vibrating. It makes her skin tingle. By the time his fingers brush her clit, she’s panting with anticipation. “What was it you begged him to do? Not let you come unless he was inside you?” Barry’s voice still sounds perfectly level, even though she can see his cock jutting up between his thighs. It's not fair. Is this how he feels, when his Mistress is sitting on his face and still perfectly in control of herself? “I think, if you’re going to get yourself addicted to coming on someone’s cock, it should be your husband’s. Don’t you?”
Iris nods immediately, more in response to his tone than his words. The part of her that’s Mistress Iris, buried though it is under a flood of lust, understands his plan. She’s used it on him in reverse, made him wait until he was inside her and then dragged orgasms out of him while he babbled that he was Mistress Iris’s property and thanked her for allowing him to come inside her. She never, never would have thought her sweet submissive would flip that on her. She never would have thought she’d beg to come on his cock until she passed out.
“Please,” she whispers. She’s blushing so much that it’s hard to get the words out. “Please don’t let me come unless you’re inside me.”
Barry smirks. She wants to think of it as a Len look, but it’s not—it’s the Flash, again. “I can’t hear you, good girl. What do you want?”
“Please!” She forces herself to shout it so loud that their neighbors across the hall will probably hear. “Please don’t let me come unless you’re inside me!”
“I don’t think that’s enough begging, good girl.” Barry’s fingers rub harder against her clit. Iris clutches the sheets, trying desperately not to come. “Why should I let you come on my cock? Why shouldn’t I just ruin your orgasm and take care of myself?”
Iris hears herself in that taunt. Fuck. She trained the perfect weapon. And then she let him sit by and listen while she poured out all her filthy fantasies to Len. “Youuuuu…” Her hips rock into his hand without her brain's consent, and anything she was going to say vanishes in a moan.
"I didn't hear you." Barry sounds so smug. Is this what she sounds like, as his Mistress? "What was that, good girl?"
“You’re my husband,” she gasps, when she’s sure she won’t come just from humiliating herself. “You, I belong to you. I need to…fffffuck…be reminded, my slutty pussy needs to be reminded…”
“Yeah, I think it does.” Barry takes his hand away completely. Iris drops back against the mattress, panting.
Before she can get her breath back, Barry pushes inside her. She’d probably have been fine if he hadn’t just edged her to within an inch of her life. As it is, she comes untouched.
“That’s it.” Barry starts fucking her without waiting for her orgasm to subside. “You just needed reminded of whose you are. Len might be hot, but he’s just borrowing you because I let him. Yeah, you know that.”
His hand slips up to the back of her head and guides her into nodding exactly the way Len had. Iris goes limp, staring up at him with her mouth hanging open. She forgets, sometimes, how strong Barry is. He hides it under all those layers, and under his unhesitating submission. He’s not hiding it now, and it turns out that he can move her around like a rag doll.
“Yours…” she echoes. It pitches up into a wordless cry when he goes back to rubbing her clit.
“Did he fuck you like this, huh?” Barry sets a relentless pace, hard enough and fast enough to scoot Iris up the bed. “Did he make you feel this good?”
Iris can’t remember. She can’t think of anything that isn’t right here, right now, Barry’s cock inside of her, another orgasm building in her core.
“No, tell me.” Barry grips her hair harder, forcing her to stare up at him while he fucks her hard enough to rock the bed. “Did he fuck you better than me?”
“No!” Iris shrieks. She clenches hard around him, imagining him fucking the memory of those times with Len clean out of her head. That feels like what he’s trying to do, anyway. And she can feel on a bone-deep level that it’s going to work. Anytime she thinks about Len fucking her, she’s going to think about tonight too. “You, you, it’s always you, oh fuck…”
Barry rewards her by vibrating his fingers right on her clit until she topples into a second orgasm. This time, he comes with her, and then keeps going.
“You let him come in you.” Barry’s voice is ragged, a growl she’s never heard from him. She wonders briefly if Len has heard it in the field, and if it sent shivers through him then like it does to her now. “What did you ask him? To fuck a baby into you?”
Iris whines. It was just a fantasy with Len. With Barry, it feels perilously possible. She knew from the moment he got down on one knee that she wanted a family with him, but it’s always been a vague future plan. Later. When it’s safer. When they’re ready. When Barry doesn’t have to put his life on the line every week. But right now, when she can feel his release inside of her, it feels inevitable. If not tonight, then one day soon, he’s going to put a baby in her.
She comes again before the aftershocks of her second orgasm have finished, so sensitive that she can’t even scream.
“Oh, that’s your hot button, isn’t it, baby?” Barry leans down and kisses her, hot and wet and open-mouthed, still fucking her at that relentless pace. “That we can’t resist you? That it’s not enough to fuck you, we need to make sure everyone knows that you made us lose control?”
She nods and can’t stop, feeling like a bobblehead doll. Yes. She wants them to want her that much. She wants them to see her heavy with the evidence of how much she loves them, and still find her irresistible.
“Good girl.” He bites a trail of hickeys into her neck, breaking away every few seconds to draw in greedy breaths. “Good—fuck—honest girls get to c-ome!”
They come together, so loudly that Iris barely hears something snap. Her world spins, and for a second she thinks Barry really is going to fuck her into unconsciousness. Then she feels herself slowly sliding toward the head of the bed.
“Barry?”
Barry’s Flash confidence melts into a wide-eyed look of horror as he realizes what’s happened. “The bed," he gasps.
Iris’s world spins again. When she gets her bearings, she’s swaddled in blankets on the window seat. The now-bare mattress rests against the wall, leaving her with a full view of the destroyed bed frame.
“...Do you think the warranty covers this?” It’s such a change of pace that she bursts into giggles as soon as she says it.
“Maybe if we don’t tell them about how much vibrating it’s been through?” Barry rubs the back of his neck. The movement of his hand draws her attention to his burning-red ears. “We can’t be the only people who’ve broken their bed frame.”
Iris snuggles into the blankets. The full force of four orgasms slams into her at once, leaving her languid and sleepy. “Mattress on the floor tonight?” she murmurs, holding out her arms to Barry.
There’s another whirl of lightning. The broken bed frame vanishes piece by piece, and the mattress appears on the floor in its place, piled with pillows and blankets like a nest.
“Perfect,” she sighs, and wanders over to climb into the nest.
“You’re perfect.” Barry zips into bed beside her and cuddles up against her side. She would laugh at the sappy line, except that he sounds so sincere.
“I love you, baby. You can do that anytime you want, by the way. Whatever…that was.” She waves a hand vaguely, meaning the Flash confidence that possessed him for the last however-long.
“Uh. Yeah. I don’t know what that was.” Barry bites his lower lip. “Don’t count on more of that until I figure out where it came from.”
Iris hums her understanding and burrows deeper into the blankets. She can’t really blame him for that. She remembers feeling the same way, the first time she let her dominant side take over in sex. She learned to like it very quickly, but then, she wasn’t coming from a place of having been the cutest submissive for years.
“I don’t actually mind any of what you do with Len, just to be clear,” Barry adds. “In case you thought I did. I just. It hit me how much I missed out on last night and then I got possessed by…that…" He mimics her hand-waving gesture. "But I still have to live with the memory of you ruining your jeans in Len’s lap, so also. That might come back.”
Iris hums her agreement, trying not to remember the searing-hot shame of ruining her clothes. If she remembers, she’s going to get wet. And Barry did threaten her with a fifth orgasm. But they should sleep. The bed breaking under them was definitely a sign to go to sleep.
(They don’t sleep. In fact, they get so little sleep that they both have to use the last of their energy to call off from work at five in the morning. Then they remake their nest on the floor and finally use it to rest.)