Work Text:
Wally doesn’t mean to walk in on her doing… well, doing that.
He slips into her room on a breeze – freckles shining in the summer sun that sticks to his skin from the fire escape – expecting to find Artemis on the floor with a pile of books cracked open between her legs, but the sight that greets him instead causes his heart to seize inside his chest. There aren’t any clothes hanging on her shoulders, no fabric to keep her skin from contrasting the shadows of her room or hide the purple bruises on her elbow that match the purple of her sheets.
Just Artemis, all long legs and tight skin and moans that only echo in his dreams.
Wally doesn’t know what to do, how to approach her or the subject of her openness so close to the tips of his fingers, so he stands mesmerized by the sheen of her skin and the metal hum that is a pacemaker to his paralyzed heart. His foot is the first thing to betray the silence he desperately tries to keep, with a slip on the window sill crashing into empty space like an avalanche.
“I—“
She hadn’t noticed him before then, hadn’t felt the supercharged presence at her side as she sped through the scope of her own universe, but his croaking attempt at an excuse cause her to jolt upright and reach for something beneath her pillow. There’s a flash of silver and Wally thinks he might die right then, a dagger to the heart or the taste of his girl whispered on his tongue.
“Wally, Jesus.”
Artemis rustles on the bed, but he can’t find the strength to move, to speak, even to tear his eyes from the naked body she’s barely bothered to cover up. One hand is haphazardly shoving a few strands of hair from her face, the other hiding the thin knife back under the pillow, but all he can see is the rise and fall of her lungs and the gentle drum of her heart against its cage.
“I – I’m sorry, I was late and the… the thing,” he gestures vaguely over his shoulder to the window still breathing in fresh air, “was unlocked, so I just… I thought you were waiting…”
She rolls her eyes when he finally forces his body to turn and face the other direction, laughing silently at the tips of his ears burning under his already scorched hair, but pulls the sheets up to her chest anyways. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not – I should have—"
“Oh, shut up. It’s okay. I was just letting off some steam and lost track of time, I guess.”
A cross between a sob and a whimper cascades from Wally’s lips.
Artemis almost laughs.
“Just wait outside, and I’ll get ready. I don’t want you having a heart attack before you buy me dinner.”
He’s back on the fire escape before her words can even settle in his ears.
She stares at the space where his outline still seems to hum as her fingers graze across her stomach, trying to ignore the heat still burning under her skin and the pressure that has a chokehold on her heart. The urge to drag him back inside and slam him against the wall with her hips climbs up the rough walls of her throat, but a pinch of her nose manages to shove it back into her chest.
Artemis sighs after a moment and tosses her sheet to the edge of the bed so she can get up and rinse off, but a knock on the window frame stops her feet before they hit the floor.
“Uh, sorry. I just…”
Wally swallows, his eyes wander again at the hesitation, but a tilt of her head injects a little courage back into his veins.
“I can do that.”
The words feel hollow when they leave his tongue, like they’ve suddenly bottomed out and sunk to the deepest part of the ocean, but his heart beats even faster inside his chest. The tips of his fingers shake at the thought of dancing across her skin, settling on her hips, and—“
“You what?”
“That,” he mutters through a gurgle in the back of his throat, fingers deciding this time to clench around the window frame that he thinks he might be able to disappear behind. “Vibrate.”
At first, Artemis isn’t sure she hears him correctly. There’s still a fog lingering between her ears and he doesn’t talk about things like that. But one look at his face – the twinges of maroon that burn against his pale cheeks and the way his throat clenches at every breath – and she knows she heard correctly. His thin fingers burn on her skin from across her bed, igniting a fire somewhere at the back of her ribs that she’s sure only he can temper, but the strength of her lips falters suddenly. Inexplicably. It’s fear, she thinks, a terror that shoots down her spine at the very thought of him etching himself so deeply onto her heart, because she isn’t sure she’s ready for something so permanent. Nothing in this world is so eternal.
They’ve spent long nights wrapped in each other’s arms with lips leaving trails of their very hearts on collarbones and in the crooks of their necks. But as ready and willing as Artemis was to do more, they had always strayed on the safe side of the fence where Wally could keep his restless feet anchored to the ground.
But now…
They both swallow at the same time, and his eyes drift to the curve of her hips. Her body screams a few silent protests as it begs for the sensations only Wally can provide, and somehow, that does it. The bright shine of his green eyes inhales her figure with such want that her insides begin to boil and a thread eventually unravels.
"Come here," she says.
He nearly trips over himself in his haste to get through the window, but doesn't hesitate to step inside despite his apparent nervousness. He half-stumbles to a halt at the foot of her bed with his arms dangling awkwardly at his sides and tries to swallow, but his throat sticks to itself.
"You're serious?" she asks him cautiously. His face feels hotter than ever before.
"Uh, yeah," he splutters. "I mean, uh… it's super easy; do you want me to show you?"
Artemis flounders for a moment, open-mouthed and bewildered, before snapping her jaw shut, flushing pink, and mumbling, "Yeah, sure. Okay."
They both stand still for a moment, red-faced, before Wally manages to muster up a gulp and step two paces forward, hunkering down beside Artemis's bed, where she's still half-seated after haphazardly pulling on a pair of underwear. He cautiously puts one hand on one of her legs and turns her to face him. She obliges him, slipping her legs off the side of the bed until her toes touch the floor.
"This is how you do this, right," he asks in an embarrassingly strangled voice.
Artemis snorts and nods. "Uh, yeah, something like this."
They both chuckle nervously and Wally's hands continue to make their way down her thighs.
Artemis closes her eyes, concentrating on the sensation of his fingers on her skin. It alternates between searing her and pulling her taut and she has to suppress a shudder when he skirts over her pelvis, letting his index and middle fingers linger at the hem of her underwear.
He glances up at her unsurely and she opens her eyes.
"Knock yourself out," she tries to joke, but the quiver in her voice betrays her.
"Maybe I'll be knocking you out," he retorts with waggling eyebrows.
"Wow. I should punch you," Artemis says, and he shrugs.
"Probably," he agrees.
He doesn't take the panties off of her; he pushes the cotton aside and tentatively slips his finger in between her folds. She bites her lip to hold back any kind of noise that would give him any ideas.
"Wow, you're, uh, kind of sopping," he comments with raised eyebrows. "Gross. But kinda hot."
She knocks into his cheek with her knee and he splutters indignantly.
"I asked for a demonstration, idiot; not a peanut gallery."
He snorts through his nose and, with an unfamiliar glint in his eyes, moves his middle finger up to knead gently against her clit. The circles he makes are slow and deliberate. She sucks in a breath and forces herself not to jolt to attention. He stares up at her, spellbound, and rubs the side of his finger against the bundle of nerves that's already sensitive from her earlier bout with the vibrator. Her wetness smears across his knuckles.
"Wally," she whispers, letting her head drop back. Her fingers curl into the bedsheets.
He seems encouraged by this reaction. He moves his hand away and Artemis is about to whine, but then he's leaning tentatively in with his face, pulling her folds aside with his thumbs, and his tongue is nudging her clit with curiosity.
She claps a hand over her mouth. It's like nothing she's ever felt, if she's being honest. It's spreading heat through every part of her, igniting a familiar sensation of being yanked into tautness like a bowstring, but stubbornly unreleased.
She spreads her legs wider on instinct and starts to recline on the bed. Wally leans in closer, and the strokes of his tongue grow longer and deeper and Artemis's hands fly to his hair, her fists gripping the tufts of red. It only eggs him on, and he goes faster, licking figure eights into her, finishing them off with vertical lines, swirling his tongue over her in circles in just the right spot. How is he doing this?
"Y-You gonna get to the… interesting part anytime soon?" she asks breathlessly, in a high, frail stutter.
Wally laps at her once more with deliberate slowness that makes her squirm, her heels scrabbling against the hardwood.
"Yeah," he grunts into her, his voice making a hum against her skin. That's enough to make her hips rise slightly.
And then he starts. It's like she just flipped a switch on him. He slips two of his fingers inside of her and moves them in and out carefully, and he flicks his tongue against her clit once and then it's – she doesn't really know how to describe it. The tongue is vibrating. It's hot and wet and rattling against her without repent.
Artemis lets out a strangled, unrestrained moan that catches in the back of her throat. Her eyes fly open at the sensation, and her whole body starts to stiffen and quake. Wally's fingers hook inside of her and his tongue vibrates still, at a point, a calculated and powerful shiver. She can feel herself dripping onto her bedsheets and her legs start to clench around his head despite her efforts to keep them apart, but that only makes him go at her harder.
She's close. It starts as a hiccup somewhere in the pit of her belly and then travels up, swelling, bursting, throbbing, until her breath is gone from her. Her hips rise and jerk up off of the bed and Wally follows them sloppily, never letting up, and she stays perfectly still and breathless for maybe a second before the peak inside of her bursts. The bowstring is let go.
She bucks into what has to be Wally's nose, but she feels no guilt, grinding her hips upwards for any contact she can get, and still his fingers work away at her insides and his tongue buzzes into her and she groans out his name in a wavering gulp of sound. Her back arches and her toes curl and it feels so good.
When she finally comes down from the orgasm, Wally sounds as out of breath as she does. He leans back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before flashing her a cheeky grin.
"And that," he concludes, "is how we do it."
"Whoa," she hears herself croak. "You're so good."
He puffs his chest out proudly.
"You could stand to mention that more," he says airily. "Told you I could do it."
"How?" she demands, sitting up. Her thighs are still shivering a little. "You're, like, the biggest prude I've ever met."
He looks indignant.
"Babe, there is a difference between being a prude and being respectable." He sniffs. "And just because I'm respectable doesn't mean I'm totally useless. Jeez. What do you take me for?"
"Useless is the first word that comes to mind," she quips.
His face falls.
"You are the most ungrateful—" He starts to say, but she launches herself forward and topples into his arms before he can finish.
He catches her immediately, but she still knocks the both of them back onto the floor with a thud. He keeps his hands on her sides, staring up at her with an expression halfway between astonished and incredibly pleased.
"Hello," he says, flashing her a grin.
She rolls her eyes. Her hair frames his face as she leans down.
"Hi," she replies innocently.
He raises an eyebrow cockily and opens his mouth to speak again, but she takes the opportunity to kiss him, messy and dirty and insatiable. His arms immediately snake up and wrap around her back and he pulls her down until she's lying prone across him, one leg slipping between his. His palms are warm on her spine and his breath is coming out through his nose in heavy, contented sighs.
"Y'know, we're pretty good at this," he murmurs. His voice is low and a little distant. "Better at it than the whole going out on dates thing, anyway."
"The zoo was one time, okay?" Artemis huffs, but she still grimaces at the memory. "How was I supposed to know tigers don't like it when you touch them?"
"Uh, there's a sign. It says, 'Keep behind observational railing. Do not attempt to touch or feed the animals.'"
She drops her chin onto his chest, letting her arms slacken. She toys with some of his hair with one finger.
"But they're so cool," she retorts. "How could I resist?"
"Well, I mean, it makes sense, since you value your own safety about as much as I valued magic when I was twelve," he jokes. She whacks him on the shoulder, but offers no retort, sinking further down into her body's increasingly strong state of warm and indolent contentment.
Wally shifts slightly, reaching a hand up to scratch at his head. His cheeks are starting to redden.
"So, I mean, did you, uh…" He clears his throat and gesticulates vaguely. "Was that… I mean, uh, was it good?"
She blinks at him for a second before propping herself up, her palms going flat on the floor. His eyes dart around everywhere except for her face.
"Uh, yes, Wally," she finally manages to say (and she can't believe she even has to). "It was amazing. Duh."
"Oh. Cool." He grins goofily. "Yeah, 'cause it… I mean, doing it was amazing. You're… really hot. So it's like a circle of amazing. Y'know?"
"Gee, thanks," she deadpans, her lips quirking.
"You are!" he insists, and then, a little more bashfully, "I… really like making you feel good."
She stares down at him with a slightly tilted head, and then she smiles, softly, with hooded eyes.
"You are such a dork," she says lovingly, moving down and kissing him again. He slips his fingers into her hair and smiles against her mouth.
"Thank you," he replies.
If Artemis is being honest with herself, she could probably kiss Wally for days and not get bored of it, if she could discount everyday needs like eating. As their tongues tangle together, she reaches her free hand down to the zipper of his jeans.
He breaks off. "Hey, babe; you don't have to—"
"Shut up," she orders him, silencing him with another kiss that makes him immediately forget any trepidations.
"Yes, ma'am," he breathes with an almost delirious nod when she withdraws.
Artemis smirks as she pulls his jeans down and lowers her head.
Dinner can wait. (Or maybe it won't even have to – if she knows Wally, this isn't going to take long.)