A birthday present for Mander13. Her birthday was a while ago (this was posted on tumblr a while back, I'm just now getting around to posting it here), but I told her I was going to write her something. And I did!

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Justice, only play around with plot bunnies and smut fics.

The wind billowed above the pair as they huddled for warmth below deck. "I told you we should have waited to go out," Artemis said, eyes looking for something in the whipping wind. There was nothing they could do beside take the sails down and wait, not having anyone else to tell them what to do or how to do it.

"It wouldn't have made a difference, babe. We're stuck down here until it passes." Wally looked at her, eyes searching for something akin to fear in her eyes, but there wasn't any. There was still the excitement from working on the boat earlier, and setting it to course, but fear or worry that they wouldn't make it alive weren't there.

Fear wasn't in the archer's blood. No way she should feel fear while working with her dad at a young age. No fear that the Team would figure out her parents identity—Well, okay, maybe there was fear that they would kick her off because she was related to villains. But the Team reassured her and everything turned out to work well after that.

No more secrets.

"You're an idiot," Artemis said, eyes still trained on the small porthole above them. "But you're my idiot." A small smile pressed against his lips, and he pushed them against her forehead gently.

"Sorry the cot's uncomfortable," he murmured, voice barely heard in the blowing wind. The redhead moved himself closer to the blonde, arms still wrapped around her. It may have been freezing above deck, but that didn't mean he would let her freeze below.

His lips moved down from her forehead to her lips, one hand pressing into her back and the other holding her cheek. The archer kissed back with more ferocity than he had first brought on. But he battled with her as the storm raged outside, the pounding of the wind and rain against the porthole matching their fast heartbeats and mind consumed with thoughts of lust.

Wally's warm fingers danced across her skin, hitching up part of her shirt and moving his hand up to cup her breast through her bra. Before he could do anything else, Artemis pushed his own shirt up, and hers landed on the floor swiftly after it. Their lips were a blur of warmth and lust and oblivious to the storm that continued on outside.

His hands were a blur of kneading and fluttering across her skin, grabbing and pulling her closer to him, deepening their kisses and steadying Artemis when a sudden wave hit the ship. Though the cot was nailed onto the ground, the people weren't, and they were left to the whims of the ship and waves and movement of their own.

The fact that they were on a ship in the middle of a deadly storm passed right over their heads the moment Artemis' bra fell to the floor, and their shoes and socks shrugged off quickly after, leaving room for the curling of toes when Wally's hands skimmed over a sensitive spot, wrapping around her butt and squeezing and kissing her nipple and just setting her mind on overdrive.

"You're beautiful," Wally murmured into her skin.

"And you're too with the thought of sex," she replied with a quirk of her lips, playing at him.

He halted his movements, moving his face so it was right in front of hers. "Oh come on, babe. We're not gonna start this now."

"You're right; I'm going to start this now." A grin took over her lips, but it disappeared the moment she flipped around, straddling his hips and kissing his neck. Her lips brushed against his ear, nibbling lightly, when she asked, "You getting seasick yet?"

"Never," he replied hotly, hands gripping at her hips, pulling her closer and nudging her pants down slowly and with forced patience. Because, yes, he very much wanted to take her right there and then with the storm pounding against the glass. But he also wanted to enjoy this secluded area while it lasted, what with their deadlines hanging dangerously close to their heads and daring to fall on them.

Though the whole point of this adventure, despite the storm that threatened to end it early, was to have an enjoyable day, spent between the two, not worrying about whatever happened on the mainland. So that led to them, right there, laying on the cot, half naked, and wanting and needing and—

Holy hell, when did he put his hands there?

The shock was evident on her face, but it was wiped away with another shock, this one of pleasure, as he curled his fingers inside her. But she moved her own hands, unbuckling Wally's pants and slipping them down. He shrugged them off swiftly.

"You feeling okay?" he whispered, hands working on her jeans for a second, and both bunched at their ankles, quickly pushed down by the ferocity of feet and piling at the edge of the cot. They wouldn't last long there, though.

"Better than I was above the boat," she replied, kissing him on the neck and trailing down his chest and his stomach. A breath hitched up in his throat, but it escaped in a long sigh of happiness.

"Same thought," the speedster mumbled, and he pulled the archer's face to meet his, capturing her lips in a heat kissed, teeth clashing and lips bruising with their too big of a need. His hands slipped her last garment off, tossing them somewhere in room that would cause for some searching later on it the day, if either of them gave enough to look for them. And then his joined hers somewhere that wouldn't be cared for.

Roaming lips and hot hands and a storm and the two of them together, naked, without a care in the world. Because that's all that really mattered in the end, the fact that they were together with their bodies intertwined.

And then Artemis grinned, hands gliding down a warm chest that was familiar to her and gripping ever so gently on his erection. "Arty," he mumbled, but no other words fell off his lips, just her name, and the archer never asked him what he wanted, just started to pump him, up and down and let out groans and moans of pleasure.

A few cracks of thunder later, Wally finds himself still on bottom and very much wanting to take over this role, wanting to dive straight into her and feel her warmth and love and lust and every part of her that he already knew, just like the back of his hand. But neither moved from their position, at least not yet, with his finger trying to find grip in her hair while she stroked him, a rhythm that was only broken by names and moan.

When Wally neared the edge, as if on cue, she stopped. The halt in the movements caused him to groan out in irritated want, and gripped her hips, tight enough that there might be fingerprint bruises in the morning.

A laugh escaped her lips, and she complied to the unspoken words, easing herself onto him, slowly to annoy him.

The beginning of a rhythm of Artemis impaling herself on him and Wally rising up with his hips bumping against hers fell in to place. But the rhythm of their being fell out of place the moment a wave crashed, twisting the boat to the side, throwing them and any loose items into the air. A gasp flew from Artemis' lips as Wally was pushed deeper inside of her, and her hands wrapped around his back, digging into his skin.

She landed on her back, a shocked expression mingled with one of pain on her face as Wally landed in a mess atop her.

Panting, partly from the throw and partly from the exertion, Wally asked, "You okay?" The boat tilted to the left this time, and their bodies scooted with it.

"Yeah," she breathed. "I'm fine."

"Should we…should we stop?"

Wally's head, now above her, hit the edge of the kitchenette as he looked at Artemis, searching her eyes for the want to stop. Except there was none, just the hangover of lust.

Bucking her hips upward as an answer, she gave a smirk up at him. He smiled again, and their rhythm fell back into place. It was even in all ways but the storm, tossing them a bit on the floor, taking a few things to the head and body. They never stopped until he tensed up, no longer able to hold his release, and Artemis found the need to continue going as he thrashed, riding out his orgasm until hers came, moments later.

Not together, but still together, in more ways than mentioned.

When the panting and storm had both died down into almost deep breaths and small dribbles of rain, they laid on the floor of their boat, staring at the ceiling, listening as a phone rang but choosing to ignore it, watching as they both watched each watch each other.

And, in the morning, the boat would be returned to the dock, every piece of evidence gathered, save a sock that was buried underneath the cot, and they would return to their retired lives of school and Nelson the dog.