So Many Lies | By : NekoMalik Category: DC Verse Comics > The Flash Views: 976 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Flash, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Months of being on the run, of hiding, fighting for their lives, fleeing from those they once called friends and foes they had never suspected they’d ever have had beaten any remaining trace of spoilt little rich boy from Hartley’s emaciated form. He was tired, perpetually hungry and, in his waking hours, about ready to slit the throat of his blonde companion for the continual, annoying reminder of James’ homophobic tendencies.
At night, though, it was a totally different story. It turned out, for all of his bravado and the stubborn, offensive front he put up, James was a cuddler. More surprisingly, though, Hartley found that he really didn’t mind. An attractive, blonde Italian curled around him in a strong, protective embrace? He could quite easily get used to that, if it weren’t for the accompanying loud-mouthed attitude the rest of the time. Still, no one was perfect, and the musician took what small comfort he could from the Trickster, all traces of guilt successfully quashed with the knowledge that he never once initiated the contact himself. And as long as James didn’t know about it, things would remain the same. Honestly, it was the only thing holding the slight redhead together any more. James was fully aware of their night time activities; years of deception had meant his ability to convincingly feign sleep was advanced enough to trick even Hartley’s enhanced hearing as he purposefully slowed his own heartbeat. After all, the Pied Piper could barely stand him anymore. It was for the best, really; Hartley was a terrible fighter, and far too easily distracted in the heat of battle. If he honestly thought that James cared for him in any small way, and god forbid returned those feelings, he’d be dead within the week. The blonde knew his feelings were entirely one sided; they always had been. Piper had never shown even the slightest speck of interest in him, preferring to bed brunettes, and while each new relationship broke James’ heart all over again, he knew he’d never be able to match up to those men, he’d never be able to give Hartley what he needed. “James...” The Trickster’s heart skipped a beat, as he looked down at the little redhead, bathed in gentle moonlight as he curled closer into the blonde’s embrace. Had he known, had he figured it out? But no, the Piper was still sleeping soundly, though his forehead showed the slightest of creases as he scrunched his face up before hiding it away in the scratchy fabric of James’ tunic. “S’cold.” Hartley finally muttered, the sound almost lost in the garish fabric, making James smile softly down at the smaller man. He looked so small, so vulnerable, it almost hurt to see the once-proud Piper like that. “Sorry.” James replied quietly, wrapping his cape around his companion, shivering himself in the cold night air as his back was suddenly exposed to the elements. It was worth it, though, to keep Hartley safe and warm, and as close to happiness as was possible in their current situation. Weeks passed and nothing changed; they were still on the run, still together, still playing the game of hating each other during the day and each needing the other more than their next breath as the nights drew in. Each night, James would feign sleep until Hartley dropped off, before wrapping himself as tightly around the redhead as he could within the restriction of their restraints. Hartley would wake up at the movement, cuddling closer into James’ arms as he tried to ignore the ever increasing chill of approaching winter. The colder nights meant sleep became more difficult for the Piper, though, and with his disturbed sleep came the nightmares. They started off reasonably innocently; dreams of running for their lives, reliving the hell that they were living on a daily basis. Sometimes he’d shake, twitch, cry out softly as he slept. These tiny movements always awoke his companion instantly, who held Hartley tighter until the tremors subsided and he drifted back into the comfortable, safe sleep that he so badly needed. After a while, though, they got worse; dreams of his parents, of death, watching the people he cared about dying in front of his very eyes. It was a living hell, reliving that on a nightly basis. He’d wake up sobbing and shaking, and James would simply hold him, his silent protector. The next set of dreams were somehow worse, though. He watched James die, so many times over, watched the man he needed and hated and so many other things bleed out in front of him, not able to do a thing to help him. The accusory stares of the bystanders in the dream made it unbearable; it was his fault, always his fault. Bart died because of him. James died because of him. How many more? How many innocents? He couldn’t answer them, couldn’t defend himself, because he knew they were right, and he was just so cold. James held him, as always, feeling Piper’s pain as though it was his own. Each night it seemed to get worse, the nightmares more violent, and so the blonde slept less. He knew that they needed to find somewhere safe to hole up, somewhere they weren’t likely to freeze to death as one of the coldest winters either man had ever experienced crept up on them. Their salvation came in the form of an abandoned mattress warehouse to the north of Gotham; no one had been there in years. It was too far out for any of the gangs in the area to bother with, likewise the local kids had no interest in travelling to something so far away from their homes when there were enough other targets for them to vandalise. It wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, but it was sheltered and it was warm. For the first time in months, the pair actually managed to sleep through the night. Everything seemed to be going fine, their routine back to normal, until James messed up. It had been a long day; trying to find food had put the pair in the path of Batman, and the last thing they needed was the caped crusader finding their hideout and dragging them off to be executed, or worse. Spending hours on the streets, bitching and snapping at each other, the two Rogues had finally felt safe enough to return to their makeshift home, exhausted and hungry. For the first time in almost six months, James fell asleep first. Something seemed off when the blonde wrapped himself around Hartley that night; something was different. His movements were more certain, clingier, as the redhead found himself on his side, back pressed up against James as the larger man decided subconsciously to play the part of the bigger spoon. Legs entwined under the tarpaulin they were using as a sheet, Piper found he really didn’t mind this new position, settling down to sleep, a small smile on his lips as his eyes drifted shut. Both lids flew open again a moment later and he stiffened as lazy teeth nipped at the sensitive skin of his neck, followed by the dragging motion of dried, chapped lips as the unconscious Trickster tried to kiss his shoulder. An insistent hardness, pressed against the base of the redhead’s spine, left no doubt as to the sleeping Italian’s intentions, whether he himself was aware of it or not. After several minutes of enjoying the sensation of James grinding up against his ass, and feeling suitably guilty for the painful tent he was pitching in his pants as a result, Piper finally decided that he should really move away from his companion, putting enough space between the two of them that when the blonde awoke it wouldn’t be quite so embarrassing for the pair of them. Unfortunately, James had other ideas. The movement seemed to trigger a response in the other man, making him grip and paw at the musician’s clothing, slipping one hand down past the far too loose waistband of his pants to stroke clumsily at his dripping shaft. The simple heat around his neglected cock, combined with the months of not really being able to satisfy himself, left Hartley unable to stop the blonde. Instead, he found himself rubbing back against James’ own shaft, before pushing forward into that oh-so-perfect hand, whimpers of desperate pleasure tumbling past his lips as he stopped caring about who saw them, or whether he’d wake his slumbering bed partner. When he came, it was all too quick, coating the Trickster’s hand with streams of his release as he cried out James’ name, shudders of pleasure coursing through his body. It was not the most incredible orgasm he had ever experienced, or the most intense, but for the sex-starved Rogue it may as well have been. Exhausted, sated, Hartley’s eyes drooped closed of their own accord as the last of the aftershocks rippled through his body. Feeling the blonde tense behind him, the teeth at his shoulder biting down hard enough to leave a mark, Piper pressed back against James as he hit his release, letting the taller man ride his pleasure out while pressed against his ass. When James awoke the next morning, it was to find his hand coated in an unpleasant, dried layer of Hartley’s cum, still firmly wrapped around the musician’s flaccid cock. Shifting, he found his own pants to be in much the same state, an uncomfortable sticky, crackling sensation accompanying each movement. His heart in his throat, the Trickster, glanced over his companion; Piper wasn’t anything like as good an actor as James, and he was awake. Awake, and pretending to be asleep. The blonde swallowed thickly, removing his hand and shifting away from the redhead, as far as their bindings would allow without directly pulling at Hartley’s arm. Shame coursed through him, the larger man not even bothering to try to clean his hand off, simply remaining still as he waited for Piper to make the first move. They didn’t speak of the incident, getting on with their lives as they had before, but James couldn’t bring himself to touch the redhead any more. How could he, after what he’d done? They slept facing away from each other, at the limit of what movement they were allowed. Hartley’s nightmares came back fairly soon after that, and without James there to hold him, to chase them away, he was forced to ride out the horrific scenes over and over, waking up to the name of a long-dead loved one on his lips each morning, tears streaming down his sunken cheeks as he sobbed quietly to himself, the slumbering blonde beside him completely unaware.While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. 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