defaulthawke | for Barry.

for Barry.

The universe spit Garrett Hawke into a dark house in a dark neighborhood on a very dark night. Despite his disorientation, a look around shocked him into awareness- even from a single visit three years ago on a holodeck in Zhautas, he still recognizes Barry's childhood home. For a panicked moment he wondered if they went back too far, if they landed in - what year was it? 1990 something? he had no idea - or any time in Barry's childhood.

He didn't have time to find out. Before Garrett could get his bearings, the familiar rush of a speedster sent the next room over into a minor whirlwind, and for a moment he sat up, heart leaping in his chest. Until he saw the black suit, and the terrifying faceless mask, and the blue lightning, and the man in his clutches. A man who looked so much like Barry that Garrett knew immediately what was about to happen. How many nightmares had he soothed, how many times had he held Barry in his arms and stroked his hair while he cried or shook or damn near hyperventilated from racing anxiety? They'd talked about their parental deaths before, and Barry's description of it, what little he could give, always made his heart ache.

This was Zoom. Zoom and Henry Allen, and his heart broke when he realized what was about to happen.

The scene played out before him, heartwrenching and unstoppable, while Garrett watched from the deep shadows under the dining room table. In the next room over in that crushingly dark house, he had a safe, dark spot to watch a nightmare unfold. Fuck, it was so hard to sit there and watch Henry die, knowing he couldn't do anything to stop Zoom, and it was harder still to watch Barry screaming and sobbing. Every cry and tear tore at him until it actually hurt not to go to Barry's side and comfort him.

But he had to. He had no choice. There was no sense in intervening- a sacrifice is wasted if it does no good to anybody. His one concession was to cut his palm with a hidden dagger and reached out with magic just as Henry's eyes closed. Blood magic was more than powerful enough to keep the man's heart beating until the two speedsters tore out of there. If he couldn't keep Barry from losing his father then damn it, at least he could do was give him back. Garrett could save him- as long as Barry still left for Zhautas.

The moment they were gone, Garrett burst out from under the table and scrambled over to Henry, heart racing. "No no no, shit, shit," he cursed frantically, holding his hands over the dying man. "Come on, get back here."

It was hard, incredibly hard, but with blood magic and healing both Garrett managed to at least put one lung back together, and make Henry's heart beat. The thought occurred to him that he could heal Henry now, but- but no, he couldn't. The timeline had to be preserved. If he wanted to ever see his fiance again, Barry had to think his father was dead so he would make the same choices and continue to the timeline that brought him to Garrett. Brutal perhaps, heartwrenching, but it had to be done. Until the time that this Barry left Earth, nobody could know that Henry Allen was alive- assuming Garrett managed to pull this off.

When Garrett felt satisifed that Henry could survive the next ten minutes, he slung Henry over his shoulder and set off, cutting through backyards and a single road until his legs just about gave out behind a gas station. He knew Barry would go back to the house and would search everywhere for his father's body, so he hauled Henry behind a hedge and hid there, passing the time by pulsing healing magic through Henry's nearly dead form. Lightning whizzed by a few times - Barry desperately searching for any sign that his dad somehow managed to walk away - but then it stopped. It stopped, and Garrett breathed a sigh of anguished relief that the man he loved gave up on that last hope.

Horrible.

Garrett laid Henry down on the pavement and knelt beside him, bracing himself for what was to come. There was no time to find an animal to sacrifice, no time for anything but slitting his wrist all the way to his elbow, biting back a pained sound as his blood spilled. Every drop of strength and life that left his veins gave back magic tenfold, winding its way into Henry's veins with dark, monstrously powerful energy. Garrett poured his own life force into Henry, willing organs and veins and tissues to heal, trying hard to undo the horrific damage spread to every part of the man's body.

When he had fallen to his hands and knees, pale as a ghost and shaking dizzily from blood loss, Henry opened his eyes with a ragged gasp. The man tried to sit up, coughing wetly, but only managed to brace himself on one elbow, looking around with a confused, "Barry? What- wait, who-" Henry's eyes widened as he took in the bloody scene, scooting away from Garrett, still armed and covered in blood. "Who the hell are you? Where's my son? Where's Zoom?"

"Listen," Garrett urged, looking at Henry sickly. "I need you to listen to every word I say. I'm from the future. Barry's future. In- god, I don't know, a week? Maybe? He's gonna do something." Fuck, how to explain this? How would they understand? "Go to a different... world. For years. That's where- me." He sucked in a breath, trying to cling to coherence. "Then he'll come back, to the same time he left. Except it went wrong- I came too, but I'm here too early. I saved you. I couldn't exactly watch you- I saved you," he said urgently, as if begging Henry to understand.

"You're holding a knife in a pool of your own blood and that's-" Henry shook his head, himself struggling to think clearly with his chest rattling and head pounding. "I need to get to Barry."

"No!" Garrett blurted, moving closer with wild eyes. His hand pressed harder into the wound on his other arm, trying to keep himself conscious long enough to say this. "The reason he leaves is because you died. The timeline- he has to think you're dead. Just long enough that he leaves. When- when he comes back, we'll tell him." When Henry tried to protest, looking understandably horrified, Garrett cut him off. "No, no- trust me, we have to, the timeline will- I don't know, but it was all because he lost you. Then when we returns, he'll get you back but first no one can know you're alive. Just long enough."

"This is ridiculous, I can't let my son think he lost his father!" Henry protested, just as Garrett thought he would. The man tried to get up, only to fall to his knees again, coughing and clutching his chest. "Calm down, okay? We'll get to a hospital, call Barry- we can explain everything. This will be okay."

"Wait- no." A hand held out, glowing blue-white, seeking out the hurt and damage inside Henry. He had to know. He had to see. "Oh, no. No."

"What?"

"It won't be okay," Garrett breathed, expression cracking over into horrified despair. "You're still broken in there. Things burst and bleeding and leaking where they shouldn't. You're still going to die, it'll just take longer."

"Listen-" Henry began, before leaning over and coughing violently. His hand came away bloody, throat rattling painfully with every breath.

"No, Henry- listen, please. You can't tell anyone. Not the- the police, no one. Just until the spaceship leaves. Promise me, Henry," Garrett begged, talking over Henry's surprise at the word spaceship. "After that you- S.T.A.R. Labs, you can- but before that, no one can know. About you or me. Please, please, this will ruin everything if the timeline breaks, please. After the ship leaves you can tell them. When Barry gets back, come find me."

Henry stared at him, deeply rattled by the stranger's desperate pleas. "How will I know where to find you? I don't even know your name. How am I supposed to find you if I'm just gonna die anyway?"

"You'll figure it out," Garrett said. "Don't worry, you'll be fine."

Then without another word, Garrett slashed his other wrist open a single vicious motion. Henry shouted and lunged for him, but froze in place with a hand to his chest, gasping painfully. They both shook as blood poured from Garrett's veins, filling Henry with life and health as Garrett slowly crumpled. Rituals like this were the province of maleficar and sadists in his world, usually sacrificing some innocent victim to drain every bit of their life force. However, Garrett was sacrificing himself- stripping his own life force. Before he could complete the spell and drain all of it, the blood loss caught up with him, and the world darkened as he collapsed to the ground in a pool of blood. The spell ended abruptly without a mage to cast it- incomplete, leaving Henry with a little damage and Garrett with a little life.

When he fell unconscious Henry lurched forward with a gasp, scrambling over to the unconscious young man in what would have been panic. However, the doctor in him kept Henry calm, rolling the mysterious young man onto his back and checking his pulse.

There it was. Faint, but there. Henry sagged with relief and whipped out his cell phone, doing all the right things to keep his savior alive for the EMTs. To repay the sacrifice Henry saved the life of his savior, taking responsibility for the mysterious John Doe and keeping a low profile in a nearby motel.

Without even understanding why, he trusted the man. Owed him. So he watched over his unconscious savior, and he waited.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Just check everything- traffic cameras, ATMs, facial recognition," Barry urged, descending on a S.T.A.R. Labs computer intently. "Any strange arrests or John Does- anything out of the ordinary, I need-"

"What?" Cisco interrupted, completely baffled. "What are we even looking for, man? You can't just leave on a damn spaceship then pop back in and barrel in here like a bat into Hell."

"Yeah, can you just slow down and talk to us?" The force in Iris' demand belied the worry clenching in her gut. "What is going on?"

Barry spun around, frustrated and trying to think through the panic threatening to rise. "Listen guys, I don't have time to explain everything to you, there's just- there's someone I need to find, and I need to find him now."

"Who?" Joe looked like he was about to lose his mind. "We can't exactly start a manhunt if we don't know the man."

A new voice answered Joe's question. "I do."

Henry was standing in the door, hands in his pockets with an inscrutable look on his face. He was ready for the stunned reactions, for the alarm and even Cisco freaking out about clones or androids or something. Harrison said something to the effect of this is impossible, and a lot of jaws were dropped.

What he wasn't ready for was the look on Barry's face, or the single word he spoke.

"Dad?"

He sucked in a harsh breath. That one word had so much pain, so much loss, so much agony that Henry wanted to cry just hearing it. That- that he expected. The surprise came in how raw it was- or wasn't. It didn't sound like the raw suffering of a fresh wound. No, it was more like seeing a ghost, the slow shock of tearing into something long since scabbed over. Barry didn't even run to him the way Henry expected, instead staring at him in stunned disbelief that seemed to root him to the ground.

It wasn't until Henry touched his shoulder with a broken, "Hey, slugger," that Barry made a wounded sound and threw himself into his father's arms.

There were tears, disbelief, and less joy than anyone in the room expected- a strange cynicism edging it all that felt old and very tired. When Barry tearfully asked, "How is this possible?" Henry gazed back at him cautiously.

"I don't really know," he said truthfully. "How long has it been, son? For you."

The room erupted in confusion. "What-"

"How long?"

"What does that-"

Barry cut through his friends' baffled outbursts. "What do you mean by that?" he frowned, taken aback by the question. "How long-?"

"How long has it been since you last saw me?" Henry had to know before saying anything.

Barry swallowing down a strange surge of dread. "Years," he said thickly. God, it couldn't be happening again, it couldn't. Dread surged into a sudden panic that this, somehow, might be just another lie. Another fucking prison world. "It's been years. Dad, what-"

"Hey, hey, it's alright," Henry assured him, gripping Barry's shoulders and wiping the tears from his cheek. "I think I know who you're looking for. Come on."

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from here.

Barry's lips part. For years he's wondered what the touch of these calloused fingertips might feel like on his unblemished skin, his heart rate spiking pleasantly to feel them at last. He catches Garrett's hand, letting himself explore for a moment - a broad palm, long thick fingers made for holding a sword. Even at rest, Barry feels the strength in them, and he wants to feel these hands everywhere, but he soon looks up in alarm.

"I heard you were injured," he says, brow knit with the same worry that's troubled him since the Arishok fell. "I didn't know how badly."

****

Garrett's smile gentles to something tender, softening at the sweetness in Barry's eyes, and one of those hands lifts up to Barry's cheek, cupping that delicate face and jaw so easily.

"Take off my robe," he suggests softly. The scars lie underneath, deceptively smooth and silvered for how new the wound truly is, its lack of gnarled disfigurement only possible by magic. "There's a reason I'm only coming here now."

Edited 2020-08-06 08:26 (UTC)

He's thought more than once of hearing those words from this mouth. Barry doesn't love his profession, but there are moments when he doesn't hate it, either. He's stolen looks at Garrett Hawke plenty of times, a view only afforded him by his work in this pretty prison, but this is as close as he's ever come to disrobing him - he hadn't expected to be filled with such trepidation when the time finally came.

"It must be awful," he murmurs, for the Arishok fell weeks ago. Steeling himself, Barry pushes the robe from Garrett's broad shoulders, mouth falling open for the marred skin near the heart of him. It's not hideous as scars go, but it's huge, a mortal wound, surely.

"How?" Barry breathes, fingertips tracing it in horror. "How did you survive?"

"In the moment? Healing potions and an angry mabari," he replies, enjoying despite the topic the novel feeling of Barry's hands on him.

Garrett twists around to show the matching scar on his back, just an inch off from completely severing his spine.

"In the long run? A lot of healing magic. From- a stranger, of course." Wink wink nudge nudge. "I don't personally know any apostates."

It's a bold-faced lie that everyone in the damn city knows is a lie.

"Of course not," Barry murmurs with all the smoothness he can manage, transfixed as he is by the sight of that terrible scar. He'd been run entirely through, so close to his spine and beating heart...even with magic, the Champion is lucky to be alive.

"How lucky for both of us that that stranger was there," he continues, catching Garrett's chin so they can look at one another. In all this time, they've never been only a breath apart. Something deep within Barry blooms, warm and bright. "Is this your first visit back?"

Am I?

"Why?" Garrett asks playfully, resting his hands on Barry's hips.

He's thought about this countless times, even before he developed a crush on the man. Anyone would fantasize about having their way with the most exotic, prized whore in the Free Marches - possibly in all of Southern Thedas. Of all the Rose's girls Barry was in his estimation the finest- maybe not the prettiest, that honor went to a redhead with incredible tits - but tall and slender with long legs perfect for wrapping around your waist, so tempting in their silk stockings. To have him here, now- to desired, bought, and paid for- is such a rush.

And yes, it is nice to see him. That crush they've been nursing from either side of a wall.

"If I say no, do I get to see a fun catfight between you and the other girls?"

The answer is yes, but teasing is fun.

Barry snorts. "Not unless you intend to pay for the show," he replies. "I don't like fighting."

What he likes is this - a good man standing in front of him for once, handsome, yes, and absurdly powerful even without the title, but good beneath all those corded muscles. They've never even had a proper conversation, but Barry just knows. It's in the earnest light Hawke's eyes, in his real smile that slips out from time to time between bawdy jokes. He's one of the few decent men who graces this brothel, and Barry means to enjoy what time he gets with him.

Catching Hawke's hand, Barry draws him deeper into the room, the door open one moment and soundly closed the next. "Tell me," he says, feeling the backs of his thighs hit the bed. "What can I do for our new Champion?"

Their lack of conversation isn't for lack of trying- Garrett likes to talk to all the girls, to have real conversations with as many as he can. Varric is always talking about the importance of networking, but Garrett sees it more as making connections. It's what he does. He knows people, and people know people, and that's how they come to find him, for profit or not. The number of times he tried to strike up real conversation with Barry- but Lusine, or one of the promoted "girls" who helps her run it, always ushered him away before they could say anything meaningful. Barry is no secret, but everything about him is. Garrett has long suspected that there's a powerful reason that Lusine doesn't want anybody talking to him for too long.

Speaking of power, Garrett gasps at the sudden change and the shock of being suddenly moved. "So this is it," he grins, trying to avoid open-mouthed gaping. "The secret of Barry. I always wondered what the magic was."

Obviously, everyone knew that Barry was a fantastically expensive, prized whore who is somewhat legendary in the right (wrong?) circles. But few know why. This pretty thing is shrouded in mystery- who he is, where he comes from, even his full name besides just Barry. Few are allowed to speak to him for long, and the true reason for his high price is a secret known only to those prestigious enough to even ask about his price.

All that, and Barry still looks so sweet and sexy drawing him in like that.

"I want you to undress me and get on your knees," he says, carding his fingers through that tousled brown hair. His other hand squeezes Barry's hip as excitement pulses through him. "And show me any other tricks you've got in there on the way down."

Barry isn't naturally coy, but he's developed a routine during his time in the Rose, and it serves him well enough. It makes his job easier, and his clients happy, most of whom don't care enough to look past it and see Barry's true emotions beneath.

When Hawke gapes, Barry feels a genuine smile tugging at his lips, a few bricks in the careful wall he keeps between his duties and his true self tumbling down. He likes being the reason that Hawke is smiling, and Barry gives himself silent permission to enjoy their evening.

When the impulse to show off a little comes, Barry gives in easily, fadeshifting so that he can step outside of the normal stream of time. He studies Hawke in the quiet, running reverent fingertips over the hard planes of muscle that make up his chest, following the ridges of his abdomen until he reaches the hem of his pants. Here Barry shifts around , paying the same attention to the scarred skin of his back, huge and broad and powerful. Reaching around, he undoes Hawke's pants and pulls them down, smallclothes following, and licks his lips as he faces Hawke yet again and drops to his knees.

Leaving the rift pocket, Barry looks up at him through his lashes, wetting his lips for the presence of Hawke's generous cock only inches away. "My guests all says my gifts are best visited on my knees."

In the few seconds that follow, Garrett feels a touch ghosting over his skin, a lightning-quick thing that chases down his body like the rapid suggestion of fingertips. All of a sudden he's naked and everything feels a little different. After a startled gasp he notices that Barry is kneeling for him, so slim and pretty in those stockings and silk underthings.

"They raise some excellent points," he agrees, hand threading gently into Barry's hair. "Do tell me you've got stamina potions in here, before I get too caught up fucking your mouth."

Barry smiles up at him, eyes briefly half-lidded for the gentle scrape of fingertips along his scalp. "Of course," he replies. "And I hope you'll make use of them." So many of his clients tend to leave exhausted after only one bout. Oftentimes the respite is a relief, but it's not one Barry is hoping for tonight.

"Come as many times as you like, Champion," he says, leaning in to brush his lips against the swollen, heated skin so close to his mouth. He means to go slow, but it's such an excellent cock, and Barry finds himself swaying forward, dragging his tongue down the length of it until he can draw the head between his lips.

Garrett draws a wavering breath, labored for the pleasure running through him at the sinful sight and feel of Barry's mouth on him.

"Oh, I will," he rumbles, hand dragging through that brown hair almost harshly. "Mm, I can't wait to fuck your throat. You can take it, can't you? Maker," fuck that feels good, "-You'd better, for how much I'm not paying."

Barry drops his gaze before the light in his eyes can flicker, and the words come easily enough to his lips. "There's not much I can't take," he says, opening his mouth as he glides forward, dragging Hawke's cock against his tongue until it hits the back of his throat.

Pushing forward, Barry allows it even deeper, swallowing hard in the tight channel once meant for drawing breath. His eyes water, and Barry smirks. Fuck his throat? He's good for so much more.

Garrett's mouth falls open in a surprised moan that drags out long and low as Barry swallows him down. Rare is the person who can take Garrett's entire cock down to the root, and it always shocks him a little when it happens- though it really shouldn't be a surprise here, he allows. His hands work through Barry's hair, petting him and tugging idly, more for purchase for his lust than any real desire to pull.

When he looks down again, the sight of Barry with his throat full of cock just about knocks the wind out of him. "Maker's breath," he gasps. "Look at you." He pulls back a little, just to roll his hips forward again, a slow test of Barry's mouth that makes his toes curl. "This is probably the right time to warn you it's been over a month for me."

Despite his determination to put on a good show, Barry's moan of pleasure is real as Hawke thrusts forward, just a slow roll of his hips and still one that has pleasure sparking to his toes. Barry loves his mouth being fucked like nothing else, and it's rare that he's fed so well as this.

He manages another tiny smirk despite his stuffed mouth, and when Hawke pulls back for another thrust he meets it with the flat of his tongue, vibrating sweet and low.

The next thrust meets with a sensation unlike any he's ever felt in his life, one so unexpected that he chokes a little, hands spasming helplessly in Barry's hair.

"Fuck," he swears when he finally gets his breath back. "What the hell is that?"

It takes some concentrating, but Barry feels like showing off, so he makes the effort of moving quickly enough that he can speak without ever seemingly pulling off the cock in his mouth.

"You asked for tricks," he reminds him, swirling his tongue around Hawke's cock as best he can in the cramped space left inside his mouth, setting the tip of it just beneath the thick head to vibrate in deeper pulses.

"I did," he agrees breathlessly before his jaw drops in blatant gaping. Fuck, it's nothing he's ever felt before, it's intense, it's incredible-

-And he realizes abruptly he just said that last part out loud. Actually no, it was that's incredible, and he said it while yanking rather roughly on Barry's hair.

"Maker, I can't- this will be over really quickly if you keep that up," Garrett warns, hips snapping forward urgently.

It's no real surprise. Hawke might the Champion, but Barry is Barry, and there aren't many who last long in his mouth the first time. He squeezes Hawke's thighs - or tries to, they're so thick even his long fingers struggle to wrap around them - to let him know it's alright, bobbing to meet those suddenly violent thrusts as his tongue drags Hawke towards orgasm. The fingers in his hair are tight enough to bring tears to his eyes, but Barry likes that, too, savoring every moment of sensation while it lasts.

Fuck, this is incredible. Garrett knew there had to be something special about Barry, something worth holding out for- he even jerked off earlier today to try and take the edge off. But this- he was never prepared for this. Barry's mouth is a hot, wet vise around him, taking him so well and vibrating around him so that he can't resist the urge to fuck Barry's mouth in long, sharp, too-rough thrusts. He'll remember to be concerned in a minute - he'll think of Barry's comfort in a moment- right now all he can think of is following the urgent needs of his body, urging him to chase pleasure.

It isn't long before he finds it. His thrusts get sharper, shallow quick thrusts but buried deep, fucking Barry's throat erratically as he loses rhythm and bucks into that wet heat, cursing loudly as he comes down Barry's throat almost embarrassingly fast.

Hawke's fingers tighten enough to make a less practiced man scream, and Barry relaxes his throat, taking every sharp snap of hips that bruises deep in his throat, swallowing all the while and breathing where he can. He expects it when Hawke suddenly crushes his face to his hips, nose buried in the dark patch of hair there as Hawke shudders and jerks, spilling down Barry's throat in angry pulses. Barry swallows every drop, humming faintly for every erratic twitch of Hawke's hips. His only regret is that he's held too tightly to look up - he would have liked to see the ecstasy erupt over Hawke's handsome features.

Pleasure courses through him and he pulses hot down Barry's throat, every breath a rough moan, mind completely and blissfully empty for the first time in months. Nothing exists, nothing at all except this- the heat, the vibrations, the glorious feelings that empty him out.

He comes down slowly, each breath a smaller, shakier sound than the last, until he's panting hard and pulling back slowly. Then reality comes to him all at once- not that he just had an unbelievably fantastic orgasm but that he was brutal in seeking it. With a startled breath Garrett pulls out of Barry's mouth and drops to one knee, face screwed up in concern.

"Are you alright?" His hands have released their cruel grip and are stroking that pretty hair instead as Garrett searches the man's expressio for any sign of pain. "I'm sorry, I don't usually lose my head like that."

Blinking tears and a pleasant fog from his eyes, Barry curls one hand over Hawke's wrist, squeezing once more in reassurance. He meant what he said, there's not much he can't take, and with the right client Barry even enjoys a rough hand.

"I'm good," he promises, his cock-rasped voice already beginning to smooth out, and if Hawke happens to glance lower, he'll see him rock hard in his little silk panties. He licks the corner of his sore, stretched lips, smiling as he catches an errant drop of come. "You've got a very nice cock, Champion."

"Oh?" With a little grin. "That's something I'd never get tired of hearing."

With a soft but decided not innocent smile, Garrett brings a hand to Barry's cheek and wipes those tears away with a swipe of his callused thumb. He really does look pretty like this, all bright-eyed with fuck-swollen lips, long and leggy in his red silk and lace.

"I can see you appreciated it."

He takes Barry's hands and slowly stands, pulling Barry with him as gently as if helping a fallen damsel to her feet. As wonderful as Barry was on his knees, Garrett loves this embrace just as much- putting a hand to the small of Barry's back and bringing his body close, hips flush together. With his heels, Barry is right at Garrett's eye level.

Barry appreciates the help. Physically he's already recovered from Hawke using his body with such unrelenting force, but his knees are still weak from size and the shape of him, fucking into his mouth over and over. He winds his arms around Hawke's neck for support as much as to enjoy the heat of his body, teeth sinking into his lower lip as their groins brush.

"I try to enjoy my work," he says. "But it's even nicer when I don't have to try."

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