Title: Who Said Anything About Me Being Yours?
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4,000+
Characters: Wally/Artemis
Summary: "Artemis," he mutters, and she moans because the way his voice gets low and gravelly right before he's about to come? It's such a turn on.
Kinks: sexual activities in public; friends with benefits/fuck buddies; breath; teasing; orgasm denial

For: fixati0ns – another lovely prompt of yours. I have so much fun filling them (: And for everyone: Yes, there was a Part II to this prompt. And yes, that means there will (eventually) be a Part II to this smut.

Who Said Anything About Me Being Yours?

They don't even make it into her bedroom, because she caught a glimpse of the hallway clock (why her mom has so many clocks on their walls, Artemis has no idea) and saw that her mom would be back in less than ten minutes. They had an hour to kill when Wally showed up. She has no idea where that time went.

But then she breathes, "My mom's almost…" and doesn't get much else out because then he's sinking into her and she's tossing her head back in a loud moan. "Wally."

"You okay, baby?"

He brings his hand up to feel for the spot where she hit her head on the doorframe. It hurts, but he's rolling his hips against hers and she presses her heels into the small of his back and arches to bring him in deeper, and that feels so good that she could care less about the bruising to her head. She's gotten a concussion at least twice before. She'll live.

But then he moves the hand that's at her hip and swipes his thumb over her clit and she hits her head against the doorframe again, and fuck, maybe she won't live through this. She's so worked up because he was such a fucking tease while they were making out on the couch and he was touching her through her soaked panties but nowhere near enough to be satisfying. It'll make it easier to get off and get him out before her mom gets home, though, because she's so ridiculously turned on right now.

Maybe that was his plan all along. He's not as stupid as she likes to pretend he is sometimes.

He kisses her neck, sucking down on her pulse, and she'd be more pissed off that he might leave a mark that her mom might see if his lips didn't feel so amazing against her skin.

"Artemis," he mutters, and she moans because the way his voice gets low and gravelly right before he's about to come?

It's such a turn on.

"God, right there," she breathes, and he angles his hips, grazing her spot twice more and making her insane. "Wally," she practically yelps. Her clit is between his fingers again and his lips are against her throat and he grinds his hips against hers and she's trembling as she comes, biting down on her forearm to keep from yelling like she wants to.

He comes seconds after her and pushes her arm aside and presses their lips together like he likes to do. It's like he doesn't feel complete unless he kisses her in the middle of an orgasm. She doesn't get it, but whatever.

He's an amazing kisser.

And like, they barely make it in time, because Wally's on the fire escape and she's slamming her bedroom window shut when she hears the front door open and her mother call out for her. "In my room," she yells back, gesturing for Wally to leave, and he ducks out of sight as she's jumping onto her bed and grabbing a magazine out from under her pillow.

"Did you just close your window?" her mom asks as soon as she's in the doorway.

"Yeah, it was kind of warm in here," Artemis says dismissively.

"I guess so. You're all red." Artemis bites her lower lip and fights off more blood rushing to her cheeks. "Well, what do you want for dinner?"

... ...

She knows this thing with Wally is stupid—really stupid.

She just couldn't care less.

They're young and they have needs and if she cared about having an actual relationship at all, they wouldn't even have time for one since they're always training or being whisked away on some mission as soon as school lets out. There's like, barely any time for breathing.

She loves it.

And it's not that she's given up on the whole idea of love and marriage and relationships. She sees couples at all ages every day, perfectly content and happy and barely any drama to go with that. She knows it exists and she's happy for the people that have it. She's just given up on the idea that she, herself, will ever get anything like that. Her values are a little more screwed up and she doubts she could hold a healthy, stable relationship even if she tried. Her childhood didn't exactly paint those kinds of pictures in her head.

So this thing with Wally is practically the next best thing.

They're friends, miraculously, and he's pretty much on the same page as her when it comes to understanding that they have needs and this is probably the most practical way for them to be fulfilled. He's not looking for commitment, either. (Even though you could probably argue that guaranteed sex on the regular can be considered committal.)

And she's confident enough to admit that they're both really hot—they don't clock in hours of training so that their bodies can look like crap.

So it's like, a win situation all around.

... ...

He follows her onto the beach at the bottom of the mountain, which, if she's being honest, she kind of hoped he would. They have a bit of free time before Black Canary comes back from Taipei with Batman to start another training session, and even though it's getting pretty late, it's still unseasonably warm out and she wants to enjoy it. So she lies down on the lounge chair he brought out and watches Wally do a few dozen laps in the water. She's not stupid. She knows he's doing this on purpose to get her worked up.

And it's working.

When he finally wises up and gets out of the water, she checks her watch—they have about twenty-five minutes before they should head back inside—and then looks up at Wally, his bare torso unable to hide the way his muscles flex as he dries himself off.

Then he meets her eyes and gives her this smile, as if to tell her that he knows she's staring.

She smiles back to tell him that she likes what she sees.

He chuckles lowly for no apparent reason and discards the towel onto the sand as he walks over to her, sets a knee on the lounge chair between her legs and leans over to press a pretty hot kiss to her lips. Then he slides his lips down, kissing her jaw, and then her throat, and then her collarbone, and she closes her eyes because that feels so good.

"So," he mumbles against the skin between her breasts, hands sliding down to rest at her hips, fingers playing with the bows holding up her bikini, "the League's having that anniversary party this weekend…"

She looks at him like he's crazy. He's bringing this up now?

"I know, Wally," she says flatly, "the anniversary of the founding of the Justice League."

He grins to himself and kisses her just above the waistband of her bikini. She arches her hips a little because, fuck, he's taking too long. "Be my date?" he asks.

"What?" He's just untied the strings of her bikini at either of her hips. She's a little distracted right now.

"Be my date to the party." It's a command this time, not a request.

"Wally," she exhales a little shakily. His lips feel so good against her skin, but she really wants them somewhere else right now. "That's just stupid. We're all pretty much required to go, anyway. What's the point if I go as your date?" He shrugs one shoulder and she's actually a little worried. "You're not starting to… you know, want—"

"No." He laughs and she smiles. She's not offended that he's laughing at the idea of a relationship with her. They've had this discussion already. "It's just that everyone else is still going as dates, so…" He shrugs his shoulders again.

"Wally," she begins, but then he tugs her bikini off, presses a palm against her thigh and spreads her legs a little more. Her mouth goes dry with anticipation. "Wally," she tries again, but it's a lost cause. She's completely forgotten about whatever she was going to say.


He's messing with her and she'd tell him to cut that shit out if he hadn't licked a stripe up her center, making her let out this strangled, "Oh," and roll her hips, wanting more.

"Say you'll be my date and I'll give you what you want."

He laps at her center again, barely grazing her bundle of nerves, and she claws at the lounge chair. He's not being fair but she's needy enough right now to let him get away with it. "Fine," she practically snaps, "I'll be your—"

But then he closes his lips around her clit and she tips her head back and moans his name.

... ...

She calls him over Skype later because he pretty much forced her to be his date, so she's going to force him to choose her dress. Well, he's not choosing it, but he's sure as hell going to sit with her while she chooses for herself. She was going to have to do this anyway, but now she's got a reason to put him through it, too.

"What does it matter?" He leans back in his chair, tosses something she doesn't see above his head before catching it again. "You're going to look hot in anything."

She rolls her eyes. "This is about looking classy for a party. This is not about me."

He gives her a look and she just shrugs. Whatever, it makes sense to her and it's not her fault if he doesn't get it.

"Well, I guess there's a bright side to this," he mumbles.

She arches an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

"I get to see your dress early and figure out how easy it's going to be to get you out of it later." He says this casually, with a stupid grin on his face, and fuck, can it be later now? Like, she knew that they were probably going to do it as soon as they could escape the party, but him saying it out loud just makes her more anxious for it, which is stupid, but whatever.

So she picks this backless, dark blue dress that she's only worn one other time, stands in front of the camera and gives him a few tips on how to take it off of her.

... ...

They hang out at his place before the party because her mom is hosting a tea party for her coworkers (don't ask) and his parents are watching a show and then having dinner with some friends from college. So they have the whole house to themselves until they have to leave.

Duh, they're going to hang out at his place.

"God, Artemis, you're just…"

His voice sounds a little shitty, and Artemis feels smug because, no, she'll never get tired of the fact that she can do that to him.

She sucks down harder and moves her fingers along his length, and then makes this sound when he pushes his hips and hits the back of her throat. "Fuck, babe," he groans. She swirls around him and pulls away, lifts herself off of her knees and kisses his lips as she strokes him through his orgasm. He swallows, hard, once he's done, and she disappears into his bathroom, wets a cloth with warm water and sits beside him on his bed as he cleans himself off. This wouldn't be the first or fifth time they've ended up like this.

And it's not like all they do is have sex when they hang out, just the two of them. It usually ends in sex, but like, they can have actual conversations about stuff and do things like watch movies or flip through TV channels or whatever before they end up in bed… or against a wall.

Fuck, she's wet.

(Okay, maybe they have a problem, but whatever. They're hormonal all the time and sometimes you just need to relieve it, you know? There are worse things they could be into, and like, there's the whole pregnancy risk, but they're not stupid. They use protection and she's on the pill. They know that doesn't guarantee anything, but it's better than nothing.)

"I don't want to go to the stupid party later."

He grins at her. "You're just saying that because you're all worked up."

"No," she argues. He laughs. "That's not the only reason!" He laughs a little harder. "Shut up," she says, shoving him. "I just hate formal stuff."

He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not a fan, either, but at least we'll be with everyone else. And it's just going to be the Team and the League and like, some people from news stations or whatever for publicity. It's not like we'll be in a room full of people we don't know."

She rolls her eyes. If she wants to complain, the least he can do is stop trying to be all logical and just let her mope.

"Whatever," she mutters.

But then she's being pushed against the mattress, Wally sliding her pants down her legs as he's saying, "Hey, that phone call from the other night…"

She locks eyes with him. Two nights ago, she was stuck at an office party that her mom dragged her to and she called him, locked herself in a supply closet and let him talk her through two orgasms with her back pressed against the wall and her palm flat against her clit as she worked her fingers inside herself.

She kicks her pants off, maybe a little too eagerly since he laughs at her. But she couldn't care less, because then he's guiding her hand down her stomach and breathing into her ear as he whispers, "Want to remind me what happened?"

... ...

Wally takes Raquel's empty seat beside Artemis when he comes back from the buffet table with his fourth (fourth!) plate of the night. She arches an eyebrow at him before turning back to Megan, still in the middle of her story about her first time at the zoo when she went with Conner and Gar last week.

"It doesn't compare to being on Marie's sanctuary," Megan admits, "but it's still really beautiful and it was a lot of fun! Don't you think?"

Artemis smiles at her. "I don't know. I've never been to the zoo before."


Megan's jaw drops as Wally stares in disbelief. Artemis rolls her eyes. "Well, it's not like my parents had time to take us between crimes," she mutters.

"Artemis," Megan says, frowning.

Wally shakes his head incredulously. "I can't believe you've never been to the zoo before. It's like, a childhood rite of passage!" Artemis gives him a pointed look and it's his turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, okay, you didn't have a traditional childhood… Well, that settles it! I'm taking you there myself."

"We're not going anywhere," Artemis says at the same time Megan practically squeals, "Just the two of you? Like a date?"

Artemis laughs.

"Meg, it's a miracle that we're friends," Wally reminds. "We'd end up killing each other if we actually dated."

"You don't know that," Megan argues. "You two already spend so much time together."

"That doesn't mean that we should date." Megan practically pouts, and Artemis just laughs a little more. Honestly, it's hard to believe that Megan is the same age as her (or, well, technically older, but whatever) when she's practically the most adorable person Artemis knows. "Megan, it's not a big deal. We just see the world a little differently."

"And I get that," Megan begins, "but you guys just seem like… Well, you act almost like you're together. You've met each other's parents. I know that that's usually a big deal when it comes to relationships, right?"

Artemis sits up a little straighter, though it has nothing to do with the fact that Megan just pointed out a something that was… alright, pretty accurate.

But at the end of Megan's sentence, Artemis felt a hand place itself on her knee underneath the table. It's warm and calloused against her bare skin (her dress has slits along the side that don't cover her legs whenever she's sitting) and a familiar touch. She doesn't even have to glance next to her to know that it's Wally.

She does, anyway, and sees that he's still working on a rather monumental slice of cheesecake. Maybe it was an accident.

Then she feels him push his thumb over her skin and she knows that that's definitely not an accident.

What the hell does he think he's doing?

"I guess," she says to Megan, managing to keep her voice casual as he squeezes slightly and then moves his hand a little higher up her leg. She feels an icy hot sensation shoot through her and… Fuck. Fuck. He's not really going to do this right now, is he?

"Right," Megan says again. "So why haven't you two…?"

"Megs, friends can meet each other's parents without it meaning anything," Artemis points out. "It happens all the time."

"But your mom has—"

"Yeah, she's met Wally's parents," Artemis interrupts, hoping that her voice doesn't quiver as Wally's slides along her leg, thumb pressing patterns into her skin. God, that feels kind of really good right now. "But that was because I thought it would be good for her to meet because they could relate to having a kid that was… you know, into the same stuff."

Wally's hand reaches where her leg meets her hip. Artemis lets out a silent, shallow breath.

"Besides," Artemis adds, mostly to distract herself as his fingers ghost over the front of her panties. Fuck, when did she get so wet? "Wally's parents were pretty much the only choice she had." Wally presses against her sex through the soaked material. "I mean, it's not like Conner and Clark had a healthy enough relationship then, and Raquel's kind of distant from her parents, right? Zatanna's dad… Well, you know. Yours are on Mars, Kal's are underwater, and Dick—no offense, but it's hard for most people to relate to Dick's dad."

The two of them share a laugh, though Artemis's is a little choked as she feels Wally move his fingers over her clit through her panties. He does it once, twice more, and Artemis clears her throat a little, trying to fight off the inevitable flush to her cheeks.

Megan looks at Wally and then back to Artemis, and for a brief second, Artemis is kind of worried (horrified) that Megan can tell what's happening.

But then she says, "Sorry, is this something that we shouldn't talk about in front of…" and looks back at Wally, and Artemis lets out a breath, relieved that that's all Megan thinks she's worried about.

"Why? Are you trying to get rid of me, Megs?"

Wally says this teasingly, though Artemis knows this is just his way of declaring that he's not leaving the table any time soon. Artemis would've glared at him for that if he hadn't chose that moment to move his hand up and push his fingers passed the waistband of her panties.

He's choosing to do this now, with Megan right across the table from them and the entire League and Team in the same room?

She's going to kill him.

"No," Megan laughs, "Of course not! I just wanted to make sure."

Wally dips a finger shallowly into her, then another, and it takes everything Artemis has not to shudder right then and there. Two seconds ago, Artemis was kind of furious that he was touching her like this right now at all, and now she's frustrated that he's not touching her enough. It's totally stupid, she knows, but that's nothing new.

"Whatever," Artemis exhales, but then Wally starts rubbing his fingers against her, spreading her wetness over her already soaked sex. She breathes in sharply, her throat dry. She hopes Megan really is oblivious to all of this.

She wants to stop talking about her and Wally, because all it does is make her think of how they got off several times just a few hours ago and she's still so ready for him to make her come again. She knows that's probably supposed to mean something, somewhere, if she cared about that at all. But she doesn't, and she doesn't want to keep thinking about it.

But then Megan asks, "So, what do you guys do together all the time if you don't go on dates?" and Artemis's cheeks flush as Wally draws a light circle around her clit, making her bit her lip to fight off a moan.

"Oh, you know. We fool around." He circles her clit again, with a little more pressure this time, and she swallows another moan. "Her mom has this entire collection of black and white Vietnamese films. They're pretty cool." He uses his foot to move her ankle, hooking it around the back leg of her chair so that she's spread further. "So we usually just watch those."

"Just like an at-home movie date," Megan almost sings.

Wally pushes a finger back into Artemis and she forces herself to say, "Megan," laughingly so that she doesn't moan out Wally's name instead.

"I'm just saying," Megan says, her smile managing to look cute and smug at the same time. "Do you guys hang out a lot?"

Wally slips another finger into her, working them in and out of her a little faster, and Artemis swallows, hard. "I guess," she says, and miraculously, her voice is mostly even. "It's never for very long, though, whenever we're not at the Cave—just an hour here or there."

Megan furrows her eyebrows. "What can you guys get done in an hour?"

Oh, god, Artemis thinks. As if it weren't enough to have Wally fingering her underneath the table, alternating between circling her clit and rubbing her sex. But now she's thinking back to the last few days—Wally sinking into her against the wall, making her touch herself, talking her through an orgasm in her mom's office, going down on her in the middle of the beach… She knows he's thinking about that stuff, too, because he increases his thrusts and flattens his palm against her clit, finally drawing a soft, soft moan from her.

Megan blinks, watching Artemis reach for her water, using the movement as an excuse to roll her hips against his hand again as she straightens up, and she takes a gulp of water to keep from whimpering because she can tell that she's so close.

"Lots of stuff," Wally says. Artemis had completely forgotten Megan even asked a question.

He glides his fingers over her sex, and her free hand comes down and practically claws at her chair because, oh god, she's two seconds away from coming right here in front of Megan and everyone and—

Then Wally stops moving his hand altogether. Her legs quiver, and when he pulls his hand away, he grazes her clit one last time and she moans.

"Artemis?" Megan asks in concern as she begins to reach across the table.

"Sorry," Artemis breathes, pushing her chair back. She thinks Wally looks at her as she stands, but she's not going to look at him right now. "I have a headache."

"Do you want me to—"

"It's fine," she says quickly. She can still feel herself trembling, her wetness starting to drip down her legs, and she fights the moan at the back of her throat when she begins to walk away and can feel her slick sex rubbing together. "I'll just get some air and I'll be right back!"

And she doesn't even wait for a response before she makes her way across the ballroom and slips out the door.

She doesn't even bother turning on the lights when makes it into one of the singles bathrooms just off of the ballroom and fumbles with the lock, leaning back against the cold tile of the wall as she spreads her legs, circling her clit and tipping her head back against the wall and not even trying to stifle her moan as she brings herself to an orgasm.

She cries out his name as she comes. She blames it on being so frustrated at him for doing this to her in the first place.

He is going to pay for this.