(A/N) An extremely silly response to Westallen Smut Week, Role-playing Day. Also, I'm genuinely astonished that we haven't gotten more people of all genders hitting on Barry when he saves them.

When he whooshed into the apartment, Barry headed straight for the couch and collapsed onto it with a sigh, settling his head into his wife's lap.

"Hard day at the office, Flash?" Iris asked, shutting the TV off and bending over to kiss him. She'd waited up for him, which wrapped a warm glow around his heart, and he was very relieved it was still before ten o'clock, because then maybe she'd get to bed on time. There had been a lot of lunchtime naps in her car after a late night.

"I hate it when they come on to me," he mumbled, nuzzling his face into her soft, pajama'd thigh.

"Someone propositioned you? Again?"

"I don't get it," he said. "They're always scared and confused, and sometimes they're tired and hungry and I feel like it's about the least sexy moment ever. But once a month, if not more, somebody's like, 'Oh, Flash, let me express my gratitude - "

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"When they won't stop, it does," he said. "But mostly I just feel guilty about turning them down because that's never any fun for anybody, and sort of confused because, seriously?"

She patted his hair. "Okay, babe, I'm not saying you should take them up on it - "

"I would never!" he squawked.

"Of course you wouldn't," she said. "But honestly? Yeah, they're scared and confused, but then they see you turn up. In that tight suit, and that confident voice, and just, like, taking care of things and making everything better and sometimes beating the villain down and sometimes just getting them outta there. Having been through it a few times, it's honestly kind of a heady moment. I'm surprised you don't get hit on more often by the people you save."

He peered up at her. "Nope," he decided. "Still don't get it. So not sexy."

"Because you've never experienced it from their end."

"Yeah, well, I don't see that happening anytime soon."

"Hmmm," she said, and patted his hair again.

"Anyway," he said. "How was your day?"

She filled him in on the various dramas of CCPN - "this cub reporter, honestly, was I ever that wet behind the ears?" - and he relaxed into the sound of her voice, assuring her that, yes, once she was. She swatted him, and went to take a shower soon after.

He peeled himself off the couch and rambled after her to their bedroom, with a brief stop to eat a lasagna that she'd left warming in the oven. "Best wife ever," he mumbled into a spatula full of cheese and pasta and meat sauce.

He collapsed onto the bed, one arm stretched up over his head. The shower had been off for several minutes now, and he idly wondered what she was doing. Her nighttime routine wasn't all that complicated, not like her morning one. He dozed, waiting for her to come cuddle up next to him and kiss his cheek.

Something clicked around his wrist.

He blinked his eyes open and stared up at Iris. She was dressed in a long black robe (his robe, he thought; it hit him at his knees, which meant it skimmed her ankles) and had a black scarf wrapped around her head like a mask. He could just the see the sparkle of her eyes through the lacy pattern. "What are you wearing?"

She pointed at him. "Silence, helpless worm. I have you in my power. You're trapped. Trapped, I say."

He looked up at his wrist. She'd cuffed him to the headboard with the pink fuzzy handcuffs that Linda had given her for her bachelorette party. "You know I can phase out of these," he said.

"No, you can't," she said. "You're an ordinary citizen with no abilities whatsoever." She leaned close enough that he could smell the lime scent of her body wash. "And you're in my power."

"Ohhhhhh," he said, the penny finally dropping. "Yeah. Totally in your power. I'm super scared." He grinned at her.

She smirked back, said, "Muahahahahaha," and turned on her heel.

He stared after her, bewildered, as she disappeared into the walk-in closet. Okaaaay. He'd definitely been anticipating some sexy lady villain role play.

"No matter how much you cry for help, nobody will ever find you!" she yelled from the closet.

"Uh, help," he said obediently. "Please, won't somebody help me."

She leapt out, sans robe, sans mask. In their place, she wore a slinky red dress and a yellow towel, tied around her neck like a cape. She planted her fists on her hips and lifted her chin in a power pose. "Did I hear somebody crying for help?"

"Do I look like that?" he asked.

"Sometimes," she said. "Shhh, stop breaking your role. I said, did I hear somebody calling for help?"

He had to muffle his laughter in his shoulder before answering, "Oh, Headline Girl! Thank God! Help me, please!"

"Headline Girl?" she squeaked. "Oh, babe, leave the naming to Cisco."

"Stop breaking your role," he told her.

"Who did this to you?" she boomed.

"Oh, it was, um, uh, Censorship Lady."

"Censorship Lady?"

"Yeah, she's terrible. Very anti-First Amendment."

She jammed her knuckles into her mouth to muffle the snort. When she'd gotten ahold of herself again, she said, "Well, I've kicked Censorship Lady's ass, so you're safe now, random citizen." She crawled onto the bed, straddling his thighs, and reached up to hit the release button of the cuffs.

He pulled his hand out of the cuffs and settled it on her waist. "Oh, Headline Girl. You saved me." He nuzzled her neck, where she was soft and sweet. "How can I ever thank you?"

Her arms settled around his neck and her cheek pressed to his hair. "A good deed is its own reward."

He slid both arms around her waist and pulled her closer. "But surely there must be something." He kissed the hollow of her throat, then licked up the column of her neck until he could lay a trail of kisses on her jaw, all the way to her mouth. "Please, anything I can do for you?"

She sank into the kiss, her lips parting against his with a sigh. "Well - I - "

He smoothed his hand over the curve of her ass, giving it the lightest of squeezes. In his unbiased opinion, she had the best rear in Central City. "Anything," he purred.

"Well," she whispered. "I mean, I do have a wonderful day job, and a devoted team backing me up, and a lovely family, but I - I don't have - "

He traced his fingers up her ribs, skimming them along the outer swells of her breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra, and she was soft under his touch. "What?"

"I don't have love."

He sighed into her hair. "Please, Headline Girl, let me love you."

She held his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, until they both shuddered with arousal. She slid her hands down his front, curled her fingers in the hem of his shirt, and pulled it off over his hand. With a sigh, she ran her hands over his chest and kissed him again. "For a random citizen," she mumbled against his mouth, "you're very built."

He snickered into her shoulder and undid the knot at her throat, tugging the towel away and dropping it to the floor. Sliding his hands down, he slipped them under the hem of the red dress and ran them up her thighs. He made a surprised sound.

She leaned back. "Yes?"

"Well, Headline Girl, I can't help but notice you're not wearing any underwear."

"To be honest, I got dressed in kind of a hurry," she confessed. "Unlike some heroes, I don't have super-speed. Just the power of the press."

"Mmmm," he murmured. "Some would say that's better than super-speed." He tugged her dress over her head, muffling her laughter, and bowed his head to press kisses to her breasts. When he licked her nipples, she caught her breath.

"I'm - " she managed "I think you're a little overdressed, random citizen."

He looked down at himself, to where his hard-on tented the fabric of his pants. "You have a point there, Headline Girl." He skimmed his fingertips up her smooth back. "But I just can't seem to remove my hands from your skin."

"Clearly the aftereffects of your ordeal," she said, straight-faced.

"Clearly," he agreed. "A little help? I mean, it's what you do and all."

She laughed down into his face and reached down to caress him - "Mmmmnuh," he groaned at her touch - and undo his pants.

He rolled her over onto her back, pushing his pants and boxers down, kicking them off the ends of his legs, then settling himself into the warm, familiar cradle of her hips, skin to skin all the way down. She sighed as his cock nudged her soft, wet entrance. "Oh, that's nice," she breathed.

"Should I make it nicer?"

"Please do."

They were being less careful about birth control these days - not trying exactly, Iris had explained to Caitlin during the whole family planning discussion, just letting destiny happen if it had a mind to do so.

So far it hadn't.

But Barry thought this was the best way for destiny to happen, giggling and warm, sweet, breathless, slick heat surrounding him, one of Iris's legs hooking over his hip as she arched up into him, punctuated with kisses and sighs - "Barry," she breathed out, "Barry, Barry - "

"I love you," he said, because he could never say it enough. Too many years keeping it locked up, maybe.

She held his face a moment. "I love you," she told him. "Now fuck me good, baby."

He laughed, because it always startled him when she was filthy, and did his best. Then it was all moans and sighs, kisses, greedy hands on yearning skin.

At one point, he accidentally got a mouthful of her hair while trying to nibble her ear, and she gurgled with laughter while he spluttered it out. Then he tickled her, partly for retaliation and partly because when she laughed it did such things to her channel, snug and quivering around his cock, and she let out a moan when she felt it too.

If it hadn't felt so incredibly good, he could have stayed there forever, but it felt too good not to push him on toward climax, or her either. She pressed her head back into the pillow, the lamplight shining on the sweat that sheened her throat. "I'm close," she gasped. "You?"

He nodded, robbed of the power of speech. She planted both feet on the mattress to change the angle of her hips, and he shifted his weight in response.

She looked up at him, eyes shining, mouth wet and swollen, so beautiful and so completely his. "Harder, baby, please."

He obeyed, rocking into her hard enough to make the bedsprings creak. She met him thrust for thrust, sighing, eyes half-shut. When he reached up to catch one of her hands, she wove their fingers together.

He saw when she tipped over the edge, saw it in her eyes first, and the sight knocked his own climax loose, so that when she did cry out and lock her legs around his hips, he was groaning deeply and burying his face in her neck.

When the storm passed, she let out a deep sigh that ruffled his hair. "My goodness, random citizen," she murmured. "That was quite a thank you."

He smiled against her throat, eyes closed. "It's the least I can do for my savior." At the feel of her fingers in his hair, he lifted his face and gave her the smile.

"You get it now?" she asked him teasingly. "Why some folks are so hot to trot when you rescue them?"

"Mmmm," he said. "I guess? But I tell you what - "

"What?"

He kissed her nose. "I'm only ever going to let Headline Girl save me."

FINIS