In which Mr. Eidetic Memory recalls the near-sexual encounter rather differently than Sara does.

And since I have an eidetic memory, of course that means that my memory of the event is the more acc-

Pretty sure making someone else feel good is about how the other person perceives your skill. Not that I'm an expert, or anything.

*Grumbles*

Different non-con referred to in this chapter; recall in the previous one the assault that Sara knew about was only relevant in that she assumed it was the reason Len was hesitant.
It turns out she was half-right, but his hang-ups are due to a completely different part of his past. (The assumption she'd made was outright non-con; the one he's considering in this chapter is "questionable consent" of the Type A variety as TVTropes describes it.)

Anyway, all characters seen or mentioned copyright DC, CW, etc.

Leonard

"You want to dance, Leonard?" Sara asked.

"You go right ahead," Leonard replied. "I'll watch."

The disappointment flickered across her face and vanished, easily hidden from most people.

But Leonard was not most people. That fraction of a second flashed in his memory as vividly as if it had lasted a full minute, and he almost changed his mind. Sara was quite attractive, after all, and he was tempted to muscle down his usual anxiety around crowds and trust Mick to watch his back.

Almost.

"Suit yourself," she said. She handed him her beer and strolled into the crowd, exaggerating the sway of her hips as she went.

But the way she moved reminded him—as if he'd ever need the reminder—of just what made her dangerous. More of a panther than the canary she'd named herself for. Even if he forced himself to forget the crowd, he could never forget that she was of the League.

And he'd grown up with a healthy fear of that organization. Never mind that Lewis insisted that they were a myth, the man jumped any time someone mentioned them. That fear was one of the few things Leonard shared, and willingly so, with that despicable creature.

Leonard had no idea why Lewis had feared the League, but his own fear was so very simple... and so very complicated. When he'd first tried to research them, to learn how to use the monster's fear of them, he'd discovered a gaping hole in his memory. Every effort to fill in that hole over the years had met with failure, and most such efforts left more holes behind. Given how dependent he was on his memory, upon his ability to retain the smallest of details, the thought that anything could leave such gaps was frightening. He'd learned quickly to avoid anything to do with the League, if only to avoid creating more gaps.

No matter how much trouble he caused, he always took care to never attract the League's attention, until this mission had forced him to work with one of their own. Once he understood where those gaps came from, perhaps. But for now... for Sara, he might risk the crowd, or the Canary, but never both.

The locals, however, were far too bold in their ignorance. One man approached Sara and brushed her hair aside without a word.

"Can I help you?" Sara asked the man, the irritation in her voice only just mild enough to be polite.

The big man looked her up and down. "How about you join me in the parking lot?" he replied.

Moron. Her tone should have been warning enough; even if Leonard hadn't known she was an assassin, he would've known better than to ask her a question like that.

Hell, even Mick would've known better, and the man's pickup lines could be damned blunt when he was in the mood.

But Sara took the man's request in stride. "Ooh, tempting," she said instead. "But you're not my type. But your lady, on the other hand..." Leonard followed her glance to see which lady she was referring to. "Well, she looks just my speed."

"Maybe you didn't understand my request, bitch!" the man said. He grabbed Sara's arm.

Sara didn't even hesitate. She twisted her own arm around in such a way that Leonard could swear he'd heard the man's bones snap.

"Agh!" the asshole screamed as he staggered away, cradling his arm. "Son of a...!"

Leonard tensed up, ready to give the asshole the thrashing he was so clearly begging for. He could sense Mick stepping up behind him... ready to back him up, or to restrain him if he went overboard? Hard to say; past experience told him either one was likely.

Sara turned around to look at him and Mick. "I got this," she told them.

Trust an assassin to know how to fight, Leonard decided. He gave her a slight nod and stood his ground, ready to help the instant she needed them and not a moment sooner.

Sara grinned and turned back around, just as the asshole rushed her with a broken bottle. She wasted no time laying him out flat on the floor, and proceeded to do the same with the next several who tried to tackle her.

Leonard caught Mick's eye briefly and shared a grin with the arsonist. Watching Sara fight was much better than watching her dance... almost as good as joining in might have been.

But the assassin's strength had to give out at some point. After dropping another half-dozen idiots and scanning another group trying to surround her, she turned around to face Leonard and Mick again. "Now I could stand for a little help," she said.

Perfect.

Leonard tossed down the beers and waded into the fight. He struck out at anyone who tried to attack him or his crew, but he took care to make sure they really were attacking. No sense wasting his strength on anyone who wasn't prepared to fight back; anyone who looked ready to bolt, he'd shove towards the door and let them decide the next step.

Mick, behind him, wasn't nearly as careful, and there were so very many idiots eager to join the fray. Try as Leonard might, there was no way the three of them could win this fight without causing some serious damage.

The fight couldn't be over fast enough for the thief. He enjoyed the adrenaline rush, was proud of how well he held his own in the brawl, but he'd never truly liked hurting people. Every time someone got hurt because of him, a voice would whisper in his thoughts, sneer at him, mock his efforts to be better than Lewis. The voice had grown louder over the years, impossible to ignore; it had taken the Flash's little dare in the woods to help quiet it down, but it refused to be silenced.

But the three of them finally won. Leonard surveyed the damage they had caused. Most of the patrons had cleared out; those would be the ones smart enough to run before the fight started, or who had taken the out he had given them. Several of the thugs groaned on the floor; they weren't seriously injured, from what he could tell, but they'd be nursing their wounds along with their hangovers soon enough. And the rest...

The rest were buying Mick more beers.

The property damage was more substantial. There wasn't a single chair or stool that had survived the brawl, and his every step crunched broken glass. The bartender would probably try to make the three of them pay for the damage, assuming the man wasn't brave enough to take it out of the asshole that had started the whole thing.

Leonard decided he might be willing to pay for the jukebox. He grinned at the memory of that particular blow.

Sara picked her way across the debris, avoiding every piece of broken glass along the way, to stand near him. "I don't know about you," she said, "but that fight really got my blood going."

Leonard eyed her warily. She was entirely too close for his comfort, and he still didn't trust the assassin's motives, but she wasn't doing anything threatening...

Yet. His spies had told him about some kind of 'bloodlust' that occasionally took control of her, but the description had sounded a lot more serious than the same nervous energy he still felt.

"How about you join me in the parking lot?" she asked him.

Leonard frowned. Why was she using that asshole's line?

But she didn't give him the chance to ask.

She closed the distance with another step and pressed her body, carefully, gently, against his own, only adding to the pressure where she could push one hip into his groin.

He stifled a groan at her touch, but he couldn't stop the shiver that went through his entire body, or the way he could only take quick, shallow breaths. Nor could he calm the pounding of his heart or focus his eyes properly; the dark bar had brightened considerably, and Leonard knew his eyes had dilated as wide as they could.

At least she pulled away before his arousal became too obvious. He hated himself in that moment, hated the way he couldn't control his own reaction, the way he felt himself panting after her like she was a bitch in heat. He could only hope she hadn't noticed his erection.

She couldn't possibly be suggesting...

But when she turned around to face him with a grin on her face and a crook of her finger, he stumbled after her without hesitation.

Outside, he watched her park herself on top of the hood of a little red car. She looked back at him, still wearing that wicked grin. He finally hesitated... did she expect him to do anything to her out in the open?

But it was the grin that defeated his resolve. He wanted this, wanted Sara. If the assassin was truly willing...

If she was willing, then so was he.

He crossed the distance to the car, tossed his gun aside, and when she grabbed him by the shirt to pull him in for a kiss, he didn't resist. He felt her tongue in his mouth, testing him, teasing...

Oh god he needed this.

But when she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him so close he had to press his erection into her, he forced his mouth away from hers. "I didn't b-bring a condom or l-lube," he managed to stutter between gasps.

Dammit, even Gideon had warned him to bring protection! The order had baffled him enough that he hadn't quite managed to get away before the AI had launched into a lecture on screwing up history. Instead, he had walked out without a word in the middle of that lecture; he just couldn't give a fuck if Rip's research into their timelines was that poor.

After all, while he might be growing comfortable with casual sex, he had never seen the appeal in it like his crew did. He preferred instead to plan out his liaisons with nearly the same obsession as he planned his heists. Gideon's order wasn't—shouldn't have been—necessary.

Though of course he could never admit to such a thing. Mick, who understood certain of his hang-ups about sex all too well, would have been merciless in teasing him for so much as implying it; far worse than the arsonist, though, was Lisa, who would have reacted by planning out those liaisons for him.

But now Sara was trying very hard to change his plans, and she was succeeding.

She tugged at him again, hard enough he'd trip over her legs if he didn't let her pull him closer.

"Sara, I..." he protested before she fastened her mouth on his again. "Okay," he muttered around her tongue.

He could work with that; there were more than a few ways to have fun that didn't require protection, and thanks to some of Lewis' 'jobs,' he'd had years of practice.

Most of his experience would probably be useless out here; the prostitutes he'd hired had always claimed he was an amazing lover, but he couldn't trust the praise of someone he'd paid to please him. But there had been a few he'd paid, not to give him pleasure, but to teach it, to show him how to please his marks. He was far from an expert, but he was confident that he could give Sara the release she was asking for... and do it while preserving both their dignities lest anyone catch them in the act.

And with little thought to his own pleasure, he began to put those lessons to use.

He waited for her to pull away for a breath. An instant before she could put her tongue back into his mouth, he pushed the tip of his own past her lips. A moan escaped from her throat at the move, and her lips parted to let him push in further.

He let his fingertips glide over her skin, testing every spot he knew should be sensitive. He returned, time and time again, to the spots that elicited the reaction he wanted, sometimes applying more pressure, sometimes barely touching her at all.

Her outfit was just loose enough to let him push his hands in, one to stroke her right breast, the other to move, glacially slow, to reach between her legs.

And something buzzed in his ear.

Leonard stared at Sara.

It was the matching bewilderment on her face that clued him in. He removed one hand from beneath her outfit, continuing to caress her breast with the other, and activated the comm in his ear. "Gid—"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Seriously?" she muttered. She yanked the comm out of his ear and threw it aside. Another insistent pull of her legs reminded him just where his attention was supposed to be.

His face warmed, and he gave her a sheepish grin before he began to caress her again.

Oh, god, he couldn't take much more of this! The pressure of Sara's legs behind him, pulling him against her, only to release him, give him a moment's respite before she pulled at him again... the motion of her hands against him, gripping him, digging in to his skin as they traveled dangerously low...

It was too much. If they'd been somewhere private, he would've encouraged that treatment until she took him inside her, but out here...

Out here, it was getting difficult to concentrate on stifling his own urges, his own need for release, and he knew his caresses were getting clumsy.

"Oh, for the love of..." Sara growled. She shoved his hands out of her outfit.

Leonard jerked back and snatched his hands away. He frowned, afraid, for a moment, that he'd hurt her, but before he could apologize, her expression transformed into what looked suspiciously like pity.

Pity? He hadn't been that bad... had he?

"Just forget the foreplay, will you?" she asked. "I want you inside me. Now. Please."

He jerked his head back as if she'd slapped him, as it finally hit him just what she was asking him to do.

Out.

In.

The.

Open.

He began to shake, and not from anything so carnal as need. "But... but I... don't..." He took deep breaths to steady himself, and gritted his teeth against a hint of nausea. He was not having a panic attack over this. He was not having a panic attack! "Too public," he managed to stammer. "I don't like... being watched."

Sara uncrossed her legs and frowned. "Look," she said. "You said you won't touch me without my consent. I am giving that consent. But unless you make up your mind right now, I am going to revoke that consent and ask Mick to do it instead." She grimaced immediately after the words left her mouth.

She hopped down off the car, walked around and opened the back door, and sat down before she gave him a slight frown. "So what do you want to do, Leonard? Or should I say, when do you want to do me? Now? Or wait until the next time I'm in the mood?"

She was bluffing, of course. Leonard was sure of it. But even if she wasn't...

Did he want this enough to take that kind of risk?

Motion in the corner of his eye resolved itself into Mick lounging against the bar's door frame. Summoned by his name like the devil himself, no doubt.

The arsonist stood watch, too far to see any detail, too far to do more than imagine, but near enough to know full well what the two were doing and to protect them if he was needed.

But there was nobody to protect them from; the parking lot was still empty.

Sara and Leonard were well and truly alone out here.

That part of my life is over, Leonard told himself. I can't let it control me. I can't let them keep controlling me.

Yes. He wanted this enough to risk it.

He took another deep breath and smiled. "What the lady wants," he said, "the lady gets."

Leonard climbed in after Sara and closed the door behind him, and then he discovered a new dilemma: the backseat was much too small to make this easy.

Though if it was easy it wouldn't be nearly as much fun.

Sara lay back, watching with a gleam in her eye as Leonard removed his belt and twisted himself about to work his pants down.

"Having fun yet?" Mick asked through the driver's-side door, startling the two inside.

"Ohfu—YOWP!" Leonard shouted as he cracked his head against the low roof of the car. He tried to blink away his double vision, but only succeeded in focusing one eye; the world blurred and kept jumping about in the other, which was even worse.

He finally gave up and squeezed both eyes shut while he massaged the top of his skull.

"Aaannd... the moment is gone," Sara muttered. "Thanks a lot, Mick!"

Leonard's eyes snapped open and he twisted around to stare at Mick. His vision swam at the quick movement, and he took shallow breaths as he fought to suppress a wave of nausea. Finally, when he thought he could move without vomiting, he yanked his jeans back up and scrambled out of the car. He leaned against the door, shaking as he tried to get himself under control.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sara growled.

Leonard winced. She hadn't even been loud, but every noise seemed to pierce through his skull.

"Oh, sorry," Mick relied. He didn't sound the least bit sorry. "Did I interrupt? Gideon wants us back, says the team is under attack."

Shit. Of course they were; even at his most obnoxious, Mick wouldn't have interrupted for anything less.

And of course Leonard couldn't see straight. He climbed into the front passenger seat and slumped down. "So let's go," he mumbled. He was still shaking.

The car rocked as Mick's weight settled into the driver's seat and began tearing into the paneling under the dashboard.

Every noise the arsonist made, every motion that jostled the car, no matter how gentle, set Leonard's head to pounding, and he found himself gritting his teeth against the nausea again.

"Oh, congratulations, by the way," Mick said.

"For what?" Sara snapped at him.

Leonard groaned.

"For dragging this one out here," Mick said. "Broad daylight, in public, where just anyone can see him? Now, personally, I'm no exhibitionist—public displays were never my thing—but damn if this man isn't a prude. You'd never know he's got... how many whores were fawning all over you that last time, Len?"

Leonard's face burned against the chills that wracked the rest of his body.

Any other day he might've taken the man's comments with the same dose of humor in which they'd been delivered; Mick had spent years, after all, trying to convince him to be more comfortable about sex, to fix some of the damage Lewis' 'employers' had done to him. This gentle teasing was simply one of the arsonist's more common ploys... a way to remind Leonard that he had nothing to be ashamed of without ever coming across as lecturing.

But today, with the concussion making him feel sick, Leonard simply couldn't deal with the jokes. He slid further down in his seat as he pulled up his hood to help conceal himself.

"He's shy," Mick added with a laugh. "It's one of the few things I can tease him about without him trying to get revenge."

True enough. But the arsonist knew perfectly well how Leonard felt about being watched. Standing guard was one thing, but if it wasn't for the concussion, the thief would have already planned out twenty-six different ways to get revenge for that ambush.

Whatever Mick was doing under the paneling was successful. There was a snap! of electricity and the engine roared to life. "Ah! Here we go."

And there you have me attempting to address the retcon that is "Mick thinks it's totally fine to tease Len about the situation" (previous chapter) before a certain imaginary muse decided that some of Lewis' employers were trying to screw up his understanding of sex (Flash Sideways prequel What Could Have Been).

This particular random fic had never been intended to go into that much detail... I simply don't write sex scenes (or at least I never used to *eyes random muse*). Though I'd always planned for this to be a four-part fic-three chapters being the same scene from three different perspectives (Mick's will be chapter three) and the fourth being the actual fight against Chronos and a certain part of the aftermath-I had never expected, nor planned, to give the "sex" any more description than what I'd given in Sara's chapter.

So imagine my surprise when I got as far as "She was bluffing, of course," glanced over everything I'd written so far, and immediately thought "What the hell did I just write?"
After which point I shrugged and kept writing.

Linked fics:
The source of Len's fear of the League kinda-sorta explained in the Mature-rated Confessions and is the focus of the Majummed series.
Lewis' "employers" damaging Len's understanding of sex (that would be the "certain hang-ups" that Mick understands all too well) a plot point of the Flash Sideways prequel What Could Have Been.
The fear of Lisa planning out his sexual encounters for him is a direct reference to Blind Date, as well as to her lecture in Flash Sideways and Lecturing Lenny regarding her poor opinion of his sex life.