Via Appia, Rome, Italy 12°31'53"E, 41°50'32"N — 1259 hours

The objective of their chase, globe-end to globe-end, can be described very simply: Get. there. first.

Invisible energy crackles with shiftless intent around him as Wally decelerates. The grooved soles of his leather, Day-Glo yellow boots barely make friction against the cobbled stone road. "The hell—" he groans in exasperation when Barry waves him over, leaning on the mossy siding of a crypt across the abandoned road. "I was right there—"

"Maybe next time," Barry tells him his partner, mildly sympathetic as Wally squints up his face in discouragement. The look melts away with a loud, smacking kiss and Wally groans when the older man gently shoves his back to the sun-heated, brick wall. Red, costumed thighs catch Wally's between them, grinding lightly up into it. "But since I won this round…" Barry murmurs this with a drop in his voice—deepening just enough with possession that it makes Wally's face start to tinge with color, feel himself pulse a little harder in his cup. Wally heavily leans to the tomb siding, muffling a sigh with closed lips.

"Did they teach you about Ancient Rome society in school, Wally?" Barry's fingers carefully unzip the Kid Flash uniform from throat to sternum. "How the rules of sexuality…" Sternum to navel. "They dictated that sex between men could be if someone took the role of dominant." Those same, fabric-thick fingers graze Wally's exposed, pale, muscled stomach before crawling around his back, holding him steadily in place to the bricks as Wally's knee lifts to nudge Barry's side. "It was ideal for the older male to take on a younger boy between the ages of twelve and twenty," Barry grins right into Wally's ear.

Wally lets out a hurried breath, easing his clenching hands from Barry's shoulders and lowering them to unfasten his protective-wear, from his aching cock, and matches Barry's pleased expression.

"When in Rome, heh…"


Balun Cove, Otok Bisevo, Croatia 42°58.798'N, 16°1.327'E — 1146 hours UST+1 hour

The smell on the water and cave walls comes off like oceanic murky and feels refreshingly cold to their bare skin. Getting to the island was a breeze… haggling for a private boat and paddling awkwardly to their current location was the kind of awful and impatient adventure Wally sooner would like to forget. A half-dressed Barry pats his right trouser pocket where their costume rings had been hidden, and seeming satisfied with what he found there, the older man works off his cotton white briefs and those dark brown pants and folds them neatly in the rowboat.

"You gonna be all day or what?" Wally calls to him, swimming in place; his mentor pushes off the boat, submerging into the water. Barry surfaces inches from him, scrubbing his close-cropped, gold hair.

He smirks at his nephew wordlessly, dodging a playful splash.

Their surroundings glow eerily beautiful with fluorescent blue and Wally could almost see the bottom of the rock formation. At the same time, he witnesses Barry's thick cock grow from softness despite the temperature. The objects in the water turn silver with the blue light; the reef on the other end of the cave; the schools of fish hovering under their feet; their own floating bodies.

"2.89 seconds…" Barry pants to the space behind Wally's ear, lips grazing soaked, red hair. His partner shivers, ruts against him. Strong arms enclose around the younger's sleek waist. "You're catching up."


Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna, Austria 48°12'22"N, 16°21"59E — 1211 hours UST+1 hour

Their day-long race opts for a temporary break after Wally loses a third time. For consolation (other than being promised a visit to Naples for the physics museum) and for necessary health reasons, earlier that afternoon, Barry had treated Wally to an international-style lunch at Fabios in the nearby neighborhood. (Gratuitous amounts of sex burned up speedster metabolism quicker than expected.)

Wally's mouth still lingers with the taste of gazpacho cream sauce and marinated eggplant. Fortunate enough to stumble on a secluded area on the third floor of the library, and quite a view with the decorative oil ceiling painting, Barry fumbles to separate his belt ends and rests his back to the polished, wood buttress. Wally's eyes hungrily follow his movements; a slip of pink tongue over Wally's lower lip. Reading the cues, the seventeen-year-old goes on his knees, leaning up and gazing at his uncle with a faint smile. Wally's smiling lips open, teasing Barry's penis with the outline of his mouth, teasing the sac underneath, sucking and humming. Wally's bangs tickle his skin and Barry sees sparks. He scratches nails into Wally's scalp, holding back a moan as Wally's throat envelopes him wetly. Oh god.

A difficult swallow but Wally's throat acclimates to the size of it, setting a rhythm. The tip of Wally's index finger pokes the seam between Barry's asscheeks, startling him, and dryly circles his hole.

Oh… god.

All things considered, it seemed like the best decision to not follow through on his plan of throwing this round.


Pedro MartÍn Ureta's Forest Guitar, General Levalle, Argentina S34° 0.9851', W063° 55.9314' — 0935 hours UST-3 hours

They didn't care for the humidity of the countryside. But they were where they needed to be. And that was good enough for their objectives. Barry remembered that Wally had miraculously convinced a local girl who spoke fluent English to let him buy an extra wool picnic blanket from her, putting on a good show to sweet talk her and gesturing towards his uncle, winking and laughing as he spoke on. The local girl had blushed timidly at the attention, gave a long, gawking look at Barry, and exchanged the blanket for the local currency before returning to what he guessed to be her family also happily picnicking.

The memory seared into him with genuine curiosity and possibly… a tiny bit of jealousy.

Barry's tongue roughly drags up the streaks of come on Wally's lower back. "What did you say earlier…?" he murmurs, shifting them on the floor canopy of blue eucalyptus leaves and the blanket.

"Mm?" A drowsy, euphoric noise from the younger boy. Losing their race multiple times had its advantages it seems.

Barry slides a hand over Wally's chest, smoothing at the t-shirt bunched up at his collarbone.

"The girl we met when we got through the memorial," he adds, nuzzling the beautiful body in his arms. "What did you say to her?"

A pause. Barry could barely make out the following mumble, "E're a couple from Sweden… 'nd have a quirky fetish for doing it out in the woods."

"You did not."

Wally snorts at Barry's disbelief and then laughs frantically, "Nonononowhhyyyyy—!" when Barry's hands wriggle under his armpits and along his sides.


House of Mirrors, Ash Sharq, Kuwait N29° 22.1833', E047° 58.7' — 1607 UST+6 hours

The fronts of Wally's legs dig sharply to the edge of a blue-and-white, glass mosaic sink. Bent over the opening, Wally cries out a short gasp and bangs his forehead against the bathroom mirror, green eyes half-lidded and delirious with his orgasm as he shoots onto the metal surface of the sink and between Barry's slowly massaging, lubricated fingers. He presses his sweat-sticky, burning forehead flat to the fogging mirror, trying not to focus on his own reddening image staring back at him, and whimpers low at each new, harsher thrust. "Uhnn…"

At the somewhat protesting noise, Barry grunts and pulls out of him, carefully repositioning Wally to face him. Using another lubricant packet from Wally's second cupboard, he lathers up and pushes back in. He keeps from going further while Wally's inner muscles tremble to relax around him. Another cry escapes Wally, much more pleasure than pain, and it swallows up into Barry's mouth covering his. Barry runs his palms over the expansion of freckled, pale skin in his reach, savoring the touch. Wally's tongue wiggles against the underside of Barry's teeth during the hard kiss.

The older man breaks it with a softer, obvious kiss to Wally's chin. "See…" He tilts his head towards the giant ceiling mirror fleetingly, gauging Wally's reaction upon inspecting it himself as awe and embarrassment. "You can watch me go inside you…" Barry emphasizes this by slowing the next thrust, slowslow. Wally's face darkens, his ears, his chest. "No, don't close your eyes." He squeezes Wally's shoulders comfortingly and a pair of green eyes reopens sheepishly. "You like watching my cock fuck you, don't you, Wally…" Barry growls, affectionately, vibrating at a lower frequency and Wally's throat flexes, and he nods quickly, whimpering again, those words vulgar and overwhelming, "You like feeling how thick my cock is… how hot it feels when I come inside you.." Wally's cock responds with a twitch.

Though neither of them admits to it, there is a mutual attraction to the dirty talk when everything heightens. Barry has to wonder on occasion—with glee—if Wally got off on it harder than he did.

"Faster…" A guttural command. Wally's toes curl as he moans this; his legs hook Barry's shoulders with some assistance, Barry's hips brought closer as he thrusts and vibrates.

Outside the blurred-out, glass mosaic door to the sprawling, large and working bathroom, a group of tourists chatter excitably in variations of Russian and English as they pass through.

"Fuck…" Wally gasps angrily, reaching out for the glass cabinet closest to him, "oh, fuck…"

Barry chuckles, perspiration dripping down his hairline and neck, and his own breathing becoming tighter as arousal flares, "Shhh," he whispers down at Wally, vibrating deeper, "Almost there, kiddo…"

"Uh-Uncle Barry…"

One of Barry's hands grasp onto his renewed erection, rubbing against the come-slicked head with practiced familiarity, rubbing him until Wally orgasms a third time and slams a hand over his mouth to block a ragged scream. Wally's clenching muscles bring him over, and Barry slumps a little between Wally's legs, switching on the faucet. The sink's coating of ejaculation swirls with lukewarm water, disappearing.

He ruffles Wally's hair, earning him a sullen look, "Let's get a shower in before they start trying to peep in, kiddo."


Huacachina, Ica, Peru S14° 5.25', W075° 45.8' — 1023 hours UST-8 hours

It finally happens.

Wally tugs his red goggles out of his hair glossed with sand, smugly cocking a finger gun at the cowled man, gaping slightly at him. "Way to be a slowpoke," he leers.

Barry's grin flourishes on his face with good-natured defeat.

"So what do you want to do?"

The younger boy arched out his right arm towards the outskirts of the green, lush village smack in the desert. "Yeah, um, we're literally in a paradise..." Wally says aloud, as if it is the most logical answer.

Barry nods, patiently. "Soo…?" he trails off, waiting, placing a hand on his costumed hip. Wally raises his eyebrows pointedly and mimics him. "…Sex."

"Sex," Wally blows air through his lips, dismissively, moving away a few feet before simpering. "… …sex," he confirms after a moment, complacently, and making a semi-rude gesture at his snickering uncle.

Distance closes. Large, red-gloved hands drift over Wally's yellow, leather-padded hips.

"Any time."


It took me FOREVER to get the coordinates and the time zone differences exactly how I needed them. All you need to know is that this happened in the span of a day (possible two days… we assume Wally has the weekend off). And it only takes a 'flash' to get where they need to be. The time spent between is all about their 'sessions'. It must be awesome to be a speedster when you can have hot, yummy sex anywhere you want and with hardly a refractory period. Haaaa. Also… where I found these places (Atlas Obscura) is a godsent, I swear. Thanks for reading, everyone~. Reviews are very much appreciated as always.


"Barry/Wally: the joy of being a Flash is that you can be anywhere in a flash.

Barry takes advantage of this by "racing" his sidekick to completely bizarre locations to have sex."