Shared 1 year ago - 87 notes

fic | Without Another Sound

Title: Without Another Sound
Characters: Wally/Artemis
Rating: M/R 
Word Count: ~2,700
Summary: Hey, I missed you too. 
Notes: I’ll proof it later. Post-reunion smut.

“I don’t know,” she says with a roll of her shoulder, “It’s later. Did you ever make a decision?”

The entire time she’s backing herself up into the door, kicking it open with the back of her heel. She hasn’t lost sight of him. Not once. She doesn’t even miss the way the corner of his lips twitch when she asks. She sees it all. She sees him. It’s him. And the orange Kevlar feels all the more constricting; the belts and loops around her hips feel heavy. She needs this off.  All of it off .

She takes a step back into their room. It feels all too stuffy, warm. They hadn’t put the A/C on since they got home, but really they didn’t have the attention for it. He had fumbled with the keys enough when they had finally arrived at their doorstep, but once he had successfully keyed it and twisted the knob, the whole day became a little more real to her.

It was over. She was home. And there was this overwhelming sense of uncertainty and a growing list of things that needed to be done forming at the back of her mind. But the muddiness pooling there is practically wiped clean when he comes up from behind her unexpectedly and wraps his arms around her. His hands had settled at the middle of her torso, thumbs eagerly stroking nonsensical characters into the breathable material still caked onto her skin. All the while she wonders if he’ll just let go again. He’s let go before, and that unnerves her for whatever reason.

She can feel the stiffness of her own shoulders at the thought, the knot of muscles forming between her shoulder blades, and he must know her feelings or know she’s unsettled because he’s tightening his hold on her. You’d be crazy to think I’d ever leave. He doesn’t even have to say it. She can feel it in the hum of his body, the way that every other second he’s managed to snag his fingers into the deep orange of her suit almost like he was testing it, fingers curling in reassurance that it was all a charade and that she is really just standing here and that she really is Artemis and that they were both just here. He smiles. The sensation of it is settling all around her.   

Wally lets the faintest of sighs escape him before he decides it’s a good idea to rest his head on her shoulder. And his breath is warm and familiar. She can feel it fanning out and reaching the only bit of exposed flesh on her neck. It drives her a bit wild, and she’s told him that before. That’s why he does it. And she loves him for it.

Her selfishness hasn’t gotten any better since she left. It’s something she realizes when she can’t find a witty comeback or a confident smirk to throw at him. She’s content right here. Safe. And then he breathes again, long and soft against her ear. She kind of wants more of it, but all at once trailing down her spine. She wants to feel him and remember. And her mind goes blank when he’s leaving a kiss at her temple with rough chapped lips.

“Artemis?” It sounds like home. It brings her back, and she can suddenly feel the base of their bed at the back of her knees. She doesn’t even remember how they’ve gotten here so quickly. She was just in the living room with her excited puppy, and now she was here with the comfort of only their desk lamp on. It’s enough to distinguish each readable crease in his forehead and highlight the tiny bit of strain pulsing down his bare neck now that his cowl was draping behind him. Her hand automatically goes to his cheek. She thinks she can burn the faintest freckle she finds into the pad of her thumb if she tries hard enough. It’s the only way she thinks she can remember what they used to be.  

She swallows hard. “Um, one more time please?”

He groans. She’s convinced herself at this point that it’s the sound of being relieved. He’s just relieved when his forehead is pressing into hers. She pays full attention now, and she tries her best to focus on the blur of his bright green eyes from their close proximity. The breathy chuckle that leaves him could ruin her as it rolls over the contours of her cheeks.  “Artemis.”

“That sounds, um…” She has to pause when his fingers flutter over her jaw. “That sounds really nice out loud.”

And he’s decided. His lips are on hers, melding and crushing on her roughly. She doesn’t even pretend that she doesn’t need it because if she knows anything from all the months that she’s been away is that she really, really needs him right now. Both her hands are on either side of his face when she plunges herself further into the kiss, taking everything from it that she can as he pushes his hands into her hair. And it’s all harsh and it will leave her lips bruised, but it’s perfect and it’s hers again. The ferociousness of it all subsides, turning into something softer as she catches his bottom lip with her teeth softly. And they just hover over each other’s lips and breath and warmth.

They’re just barely touching when she decides to say something. And when she does her lips barely graze his upper lip in a whisper that makes him shiver underneath the grip that she has on his arm. “Get this off of me.”

He ducks his gaze away from her, and all she can really gather from his expression is the beginnings of a smirk that makes her bite her bite lower lip in anticipation. “Fast or slow.”

She’s not really quick with an answer. She just sinks down into the mattress, her weight shifting the springs underneath her. Her hand comes up until it’s smoothing over her loose hair and sweeping it away from her back to reveal the zipper there.  The movement forces her eyes to her lap.

“You can pick.” And she can hear his laugh, soft and breathy leaving him and reaching her ears.

“Well, aren’t you generous?” he jests with a quirk of his brow.

Everything about him is quick. His heart is quick. His feet are quick. His hands are good and quick. But as soon as his weight is shifting on the mattress behind her at a normal pace, she knows that he’ll be making a game of this.

She feels a hand rest on her shoulder, the other settled just at the top of her neck where fingers firmly grasp the metal of the zipper there. He tugs down slowly, and the material around her neck loosens and she can feel him lift his fingers away from her shoulder and follow the bare trail of skin quickly appearing with each tug. He stops just below the fasten of her bra, and before she can even ask why he stopped, he’s pressing the softest of kisses at the base of her neck. His hands are eager, pulling the material past her shoulders. There’s another kiss at the dip of her collar.  There’s one just at the peak of her shoulder. And when he eases her arm out of her sleeve, he raises her arm and kisses her all the way down to her fingertips.

“You’re awful,” she says just as he presses his lips into the palm of her hand.

“You were never really good with compliments,” he offers smugly. The grin will always be imprinted there, right in her skin.

He mimics his motions, the tenderness right on to her opposite arm. And he pulls away then, just as she had blissfully closed her eyes to concentrate on each touch, the pressure against her skin and how it made the hair on her arm rise and the goosebumps more prominent in the wake of his breath.

There’s no warning when the zipper is pulled the rest of the way down the length of her back or when he’s pushing her back into the mattress with nothing more than her underwear. His weight is leaning into her just as she sneaks her way a little farther up onto the bed, so that her feet weren’t dangling off the edge. He palms her breast, and she freezes with her elbows propping her upright. She doesn’t make a noise, just arches herself forward to press herself more into his hand. He squeezes once, thumb ghosting over a pert nipple hiding beneath the fabric of her bra.

“This seems completely unfair,” she mutters just as he dares his fingers underneath the material he had just finished stroking over. “I call foul. You have too much on right now.”

He grins as he’s looking down, a few pieces of red, red hair obscuring the clearness of his green eyes. “I believe I can be forgiven.”

He smoothes his thumb over her nipple before rubbing it between his two fingers, and she shuts her eyes so tight until she’s seeing a fuzzy light beneath her eyelids. It feels too good.

She leans onto one elbow, and reaches behind her to unfasten her bra. It falls loose on her arms. She shrugs out of it, and he’s back to kissing her. Her mouth. Hard. Fast. Down her neck. Slow. Soft.  His tongue is warm, swirling from her areola and straight to her nipple.

“Fuck,” she moans.

He goes straight for the other, paying careful attention to his pattern and speed. And soon he’s pulling a little with his teeth and she bites down a little on her own tongue to keep another moan at the back of her throat.

He’s humming. He’s alive as he’s sitting up on his knees above her pelvis. She rests her hands over his thighs, loving how her fingers stretched over warm muscles.

“So are you going to ditch the suit already?” she asks while giving him an approving once over with her grey eyes.

“And here I thought you’d be happy seeing it back on me,” he says, half satisfying her as he pulled his own zipper down and slipped the Kevlar past his shoulders until it was pulled down, bunching at his waist.

“There’s a time and place, Wally!” she grumbles, her hands pushing up the length of his thigh.

He pulls his hips away just as her hands brush against his erection. She tries to catch up with him, trying to push further up, but he moves himself off of her and she laughs.

“Hey!”

“I missed you,” she whispers quietly. She almost hopes he doesn’t hear it, the fear in her voice as she says it.

He blinks a few times, coming closer to her until he’s back on top peering down over her face. She’s looking away, straight to the blinking lights of their digital alarm clock. He forces her chin up to look at him, “Hey, I missed you too.”

“Right.” It’s the only thing he allows her to say before he catches her lips with his own.

She can’t help pushing her hands into his hair, and gripping on to him for dear life as his hand drummed along the expanse of her ribcage until it settled happily on her ass. And she pushes her tongue past his parted lips to really taste him as he’s hitching her thigh up to push her legs apart. He squeezes the top of her knee before pulling away from her mouth.

He just looks at her. And maybe everything can be okay.

She bucks her hips up. He’s a devil. Truthfully, she should have been paying closer attention when his hands were falling down the length of her raised knee, tickling the inside of her thigh. He’d pressed his hand over her damp panties, and now his hand had snuck underneath to allow his thumb to brush lightly over her clit. Once. Twice. Her hands clench at their sheets.

“Tease!” she hisses.

He responds, pushing her panties away and sliding two fingers into her. Slow. Slow. He twists his fingers, palm facing the ceiling before curling his fingers just slightly. She writhes underneath him, the slightest of trembles making it up her spine. He goes a little deeper, a little faster with each thrust. But he slows a little when she’s trying to get more friction against his hand. He moves out of her, hooking his thumbs over the bands of her panties hugging her hips and sliding the material away from her legs and discarding it carelessly to the floor. He pushes her legs apart once more, but his mouth meets her, tongue lapping softly over her clit. She bites back a curse when he starts moving his fingers in and out of her again. Her hips push forward, needing more of his mouth, the warm breath over her. So he becomes more aggressive, sucking hard after a groan against her.

She moans deeply at the sucking, the licking, the motion of his hands. And she can feel herself tightening around him; feel the clenching of her own muscles as she comes. She’s breathing deeply when he finally slides his fingers out. He raises his head, and her chest is heaving. All she can really do now his breath in and out deeply, his hands sliding over to her hip bones, fingers dancing dizzily over her skin.

“Can you go again?”

“Do you have a condom?”

He nods and moves away from her to open the drawer beside their bed. It gives her a second to come back down before he’s holding foil between his fingers. She sits up instantaneously, reaching for it and successfully ripping it away from him.

“I could, I don’t know, put it on,” she mouths.

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “Okay.”

She forces his back on to their headboard. Grabbing at the bunched material at his waist, she shimmies it off of his skin with a little effort. It’s past his knees, feet and then in a heaping pile somewhere away from the bed.

He’s hard. Her hand goes to the base of his shaft, and she slowly drags her fingers up his length and he practically whines at the touch. She smirks. She’s grabbing at his tip, and stroking her thumb softly across the top.

“God,” he groans, and she doesn’t decide to torture him anymore outside of the gentle hold and slide up and away from him.

She leans forward, kissing him, parting her lips before snagging at his and tasting herself there. She pulls away, tearing the foil open with her hands before sliding the condom onto him. And she pauses just as she raises herself up, hands bracing themselves on his broad shoulders.

“I could be really cheesy now and tell you I—“ She lowers herself onto him, gasping a little louder than she thought she would.

He steadies her, hands resting on her hips. And she treads carefully at first almost like it was all unfamiliar to her, raising herself up and down onto him slowly. She angles herself more precisely when she’s found a decent rhythm, increasing her speed with the help of his hands. And of course he’s distracted, staring at her chest as she goes, bouncing with each fall. He moans. It’s almost her name, she can’t really tell because she’s stuck on the image of his half hooded eyes and messy hair, but by the second moan he’s already coming, clawing at the skin at her hips as he keeps their rhythm going for her.

She keeps moving against him, but she needs her own fingers to finish herself off for a second time. And she doesn’t really care if he’s watching or if he finds it hot. She sinks down once more, and she’s clenching just as tightly as the last and sinking into him with a heavy breath.

She falls forward onto him, maintaining her position on top, head falling into his shoulder. He wraps his arms around her, and she can feel the smoothness of his skin, the sheen of sweat she’s forced her face into.

She could stay this way. She could. Without another breath. Without another sound. 


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