Harrison Wells had been asked a lot of questions throughout his life. Some simple, some complex, and others unusual or weird. But none had ever made him choke on his coffee.

That is, until Cisco came along. The moment Harry set foot on Earth-1, it was clear to him that Cisco and Barry were together. Such clarification could often be found on the Hispanic boy's skin as dark purple hickeys peppering his neck. Or on the occasion when Cisco would come into S.T.A.R. Labs limping. Harry never questioned it, never even frowned upon it. There was no need to. Obviously both men were content with the relationship.

Barry had came into the lab a bit late, as usual. He made a b-line for Caitlin so she could check his vitals. She did this every day. Just to be sure. When he was cleared, Barry zipped over to the treadmill for a little exercise. The steady hum of the machine was a bit pleasing to walk into when Harry arrived.

Cisco arrived last, wincing when he sat down at his work bench. From that moment, he decided it was a good idea to not do anything excessive today. And as he started tinkering with pieces of tech and burning himself on the soldering iron, he shifted slightly in his seat and groaned, what he hoped would be quietly, in pain.

But Harry heard it on the other side of the room, this being only a few feet away; Cisco's lab was a bit of a disaster area. Harry rolled his eyes at the noise.

"I'm guessing Mr. Allen has a very short refractory period?" he questioned. Cisco's face flushed a bit. Caught. Great. "Yeah. Really short refractory period," he admitted. Last night had felt great. There were fresh bite marks on his neck, as well as on the inside of his thighs, and they trailed down his torso and even his arms for good measure. Barry had spent half of the night enjoying Cisco's flesh being in his teeth.

"Can I ask you something? It's just out of curiosity," the boy spun the chair around. Harry gave a hum of approval to go ahead and scooped up his coffee mug. Nothing this kid could possibly say was going to interrupt his consumption of caffeine.

"What would happen if Barry went Mach 1 during sex?"

Wrong! His caffeine consumption was interrupted. To the tune of Harry choking on his coffee and setting the mug down as carefully as he could. He swallowed what had been in his throat and proceeded through a coughing fit.

A few moments passed before he was able to catch his breath. "You, Ramon, would never walk again. That's what would happen."

This made Cisco's face turn red despite the seeds of confusion growing in his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Harry starting chuckling softly. "Barry's strength at that speed...he would compress the vertebrae of your lower spine. Combine the pure electricity he generates at that speed..."

"...my spinal cord would be ruined," Cisco finished, realization evident in his face. A quiet "oh" slipped past and then he turned around in his chair to look at his work table. "Yeah... That's... ...ouch."

"So what did he say?" Barry asked. Harry probably wouldn't be surprised if the origin of the question had come from him rather than Cisco. Upon the speedster's sudden arrival that everyone was used to by now, Cisco turned around and looked up at Barry.

"I like walking, Barry. I really like walking. I don't like Thawne's wheelchair. I really don't like Thawne's wheelchair." To make his answer stick, Cisco pointed to said abandoned wheelchair sitting in the corner of the med bay. Barry blinked, processing the response. He glimpsed at the chair.

"That bad, huh?" he finally managed.

Cisco restated his prior answer. "I like walking, Barry." From there the two broke into a laugh and Barry leaned down far enough to press a gentle kiss on Cisco's collarbone through his Star Trek shirt.

"Tonight at your place?" the speedster implied.

"You owe me. My ass hurts. We're watching Doctor Who tonight. And, next time, Bear, go a little slower." This was spoken in a loving tone, but Cisco's eyes were serious.

"How slow?" he hesitated. He enjoyed using his powers during sex. He knew Cisco did, too. "I think," the Hispanic sighed, "anywhere under 150 miles per hour would be nice."

Barry whined and if he had dog ears, they'd be drooping. He like going at that speed! Are you kidding? At 150 miles an hour, with a cock ring, Cisco was a whining, moaning mess! Complete with his head pressing into the pillows as his eyes rolled into the back of his skull from so much repeated overstimulation. It really was a sight to behold.

"Oh, Cisco. Your speed restrictions are going to kill me," Barry grumbled. But he wrapped his arms around him as he turned his chair around to go back to work.