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It’s been one of the quietest days they’ve had in their new relationship. Len goes out to a meeting with the Rogues, Barry to work, and Ray to catch up with an old friendwho now works in Central City. When they arrive home, Leo has apparently been watching baking shows: the entire kitchen is covered in pastries.
“I went a little overboard,” he admits sheepishly. “But they looked so pretty on the show, and I can’t remember the last time I had sweets.” He steps in front of a half-eaten cake to hide how much he’s enjoyed his own work. Ray hurries across the kitchen to give him a kiss.
“It’s all right, sweetheart. We’re all going to enjoy what you’ve worked so hard on.”
“Mhmm!” Barry agrees enthusiastically around a mouthful of cupcake. For a first try at cupcake-baking, it’s delicious—chocolatey-rich, with airy vanilla frosting that Barry would happily eat by the spoonful. He doesn’t notice the mess he’s made of himself until Len reaches over to swipe frosting from his lips. “Hmm, thanks.”
Leo flushes a dull, pleased red. He’s so pretty when he blushes, Barry thinks fondly. Len never does; it was odd to see Leo blush at first, but it’s quickly become one of Barry’s favorite sights. “I’m glad you like them, darling boy.”
Len narrows his eyes and heaves a put-upon sigh. “Now that we’re set for unhealthy foods for the foreseeable future, does someone want to help me make an actually nutritious supper?”
Barry scowls at him. It’s one thing not to want to try Leo’s sweets, but there’s no call for snark. “I’ll help. If you need superspeed chopping done, I’m your man.”
Leo curls in on himself. “I’m sorry. I can help.”
“No, sweetheart, you’ve done plenty.” Ray wraps an arm comfortably around his waist. “Come on. Why don’t we get some of these packaged up? We can take them to STAR Labs—Cisco will love you forever if you bring him sweets.”
Leo offers a heartbreaking little smile. “I know just what to take.”
While they package up a tin of bite-sized cream puffs and the prettiest chocolate-and-berry cake Barry has ever seen, Len starts chopping broccoli. Barry takes the knife. “Broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts?” he checks.
Len nods. “Am I that predictable?”
“I just really like your roast vegetables.” Barry kisses his cheek. “Don’t be rude to Leo. He just got excited.”
Len casts a glance at his doppelgänger and sighs. “I don’t mean to be cold, Scarlet, but look at all this. If he doesn’t learn some self-control, he’s going to…”
“What, get fat?” Barry glances over again. Leo is staring ruefully at the half-eaten cake. He’s such a piteous sight that Barry can’t help running over and giving him a superspeed kiss on the cheek. Before Len has had time to blink, he’s back at the counter chopping vegetables. “Does that matter?”
Len purses his lips. “I was going to say ‘make himself sick,’ but that too. And…no, I suppose it doesn’t, but…” He wraps his arms around himself. His judgment of Leo reflects mostly on him; he thinks he’s fat, and it's all-too-easy to project self-hatred onto someone who shares his face.
“No buts.” Barry kisses him. “Let Leo have sweets. He deserves good things.” Because he suspects it’s the crux of the issue, he adds, “Like you do.”
Len’s eyes soften. “Chop the vegetables, Scarlet.”
Dinner turns out simple but delicious: roast vegetables, lemon chicken, and thick slices of fresh garlic bread. Between bites, Barry shyly offers a proposition. “So, um, I had a thought at work today that I wanted to run by all of you.”
“What is it, darling boy?” Leo reaches over to feed him a piece of cauliflower. Barry hums his thanks and chews contentedly.
“Hmm, I just saw the way Singh plays with his wedding ring when he’s nervous—it’s kinda cute. And it made me realize I want something connecting me to all three of you—visible, y’know, small but visible.”
“What did you have in mind, Scarlet?” Len brushes a thumb over his collarbone. He’s thinking of Barry’s collar, but no. That’s only for overstim (and Barry wouldn’t wear it in public anyway—people might stare).
“Um. Well, my first thought was a tattoo, but I can’t get tattoos—I heal too quickly, the ink fades in a couple of days.” When all of them arch their eyebrows, he muttered, “Iris made me get a tattoo just to see if I could. That was a lot of money to waste on something that lasted less than a week.”
Ray gives a rueful little smile. “What could we do for you then, sweetheart?”
“Um, well, I thought maybe you could give me temporary tattoos?” Barry rocks slowly side to side. “Like, doodle on me with Sharpies or something. It wouldn’t last very long, but that’d be the fun…”
“Because then we could do it again, differently.” Len skims his fingers back until they’re tangled in the short hair at the back of his skull. When he closes his hand into a fist, the pressure makes Barry’s eyes slide blissfully closed. “You want that, Scarlet?”
“Hmmm, yes please.” He thinks he does an admirable job of keeping calm despite how eager he is to have their marks on him. Of course, Len can see through any pretense that holds up through the thoroughly disarming petting.
“Well, such an easy request for our easy little boy…I think we could make that happen.” There are hums of assent. Barry opens his eyes in time to see Leo and Ray exchange a knowing smirk. “After dinner, I want you to go take a nice hot shower, dry yourself off, and then go lay on the bed—in the bedroom, not the playroom—and wait.”
“Take your time,” Ray adds. “We’re going to be cleaning up at our terribly slow pace, so you won’t need to rush. You’re not to come, but if you play with yourself a little, that’s acceptable.”
Barry knows immediately that he won’t. If Len wants them in the bedroom rather than the playroom, this won’t be a scene; it will just be the four of them cuddling and doodling on each other. He wants it to be a cozy, nonsexual time—being worked up from playing with himself would ruin that. “Yes, Sirs. Do you want me clothed or naked?”
“That depends on where you want to be marked,” Len murmurs.
Barry has no preferences. As long as he knows he’s wearing his Doms’ marks, he doesn’t really care if they’re visible to anyone else. “Wherever.”
“Then put on some underwear—cozy, not pretty.” Len smirks. “We wouldn’t want to accidentally draw on your nice things.”
“What are you going to do, sign my ass?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Barry knows he’s going to pay for being mouthy—perhaps not immediately, but before too long. Rather than apologize, he adds a belated, “Sir.”
Len arches an eyebrow. “I guess I’ll have to now.”
Leo snorts and reaches over to feed Barry a bite of chicken. “You brought that on yourself, darling boy,” he murmurs. “Although, between us, I hope you’ve given Ray ideas.”
They linger over supper. Once they finish, Leo fetches slices of cake for everyone except Len. “I was under the impression you don’t like my baking,” he pouts as he takes his seat.
Barry glances nervously between them. If Leo had brought him cake, Len might have conceded that he’s a wonderful amateur baker and the tension from earlier might vanish. This, though, can only be read as a challenge, and Len never backs down from challenges.
“Between you and Barry?” Len scoffs. “I doubt there’ll be any left for me.”
Barry turns and stuffs a forkful of cake into Len’s mouth. “Don’t be mean,” he chides while Len makes a face like a startled cat. “Leo, it’s so good. I can’t believe this is your first time baking.”
“I’ve only ever made challah before, too long ago.” Leo licks frosting from his fork. “Not at all comparable. And it’s so easy and so good…” He makes a soft, pleased sound. “I think I’m going to do a lot of baking when I’m here.”
Before Len can speak, Barry pokes more cake into his mouth. “We would love that.”
Once they’ve finished their cake, Barry gives each of his Doms sugary-sweet kisses. “You’re sure you don’t want me to clean up?”
“No, darling boy.” Leo steals a second kiss. “Go get ready like Len told you. If you want to grab the Sharpies on your way, that would be helpful.”
The Sharpies in question are technically Len’s. He color-codes his heist plans, so he has a bag of Sharpies in every imaginable hue. (The variety is necessary, he says, for complicated plans. Barry thinks he has a secret artistic side.) Barry fetches the bag at superspeed; then he carries it into the bedroom and lays it in the center of the bed. After a moment’s thought, he lays down some of their older, more frayed towels. If they get Sharpie on the sheets, they’ll be ruined. The towels, on the other hand, are close to the end of their usefulness; a little permanent marker won’t harm them too much.
The bed thus arranged, he strips out of his clothes and wanders to the bathroom to shower. Because his Doms told him to, he makes the water as hot as he likes and lingers under the spray. The heat leaves him feeling soft and clean and blissfully relaxed. Stepping out of the steam into the slightly cooler bathroom makes him shiver, but he doesn’t mind. He’s clean and ready to be drawn on.
He dries himself as best he can. His skin still feels damp, but he knows by the time he’s settled on the bed, the cooler air in the hallway will dry him off.
He makes it to the bedroom just in time. No sooner has he pulled on some undershorts than the door opens.
“Oh, now here’s a pretty picture.” Len pulls him close and peppers kisses over his shoulder. Barry melts into his arms with a pleased hum. “You’re warm.”
“Our pretty boy.” Ray pulls him into a lazy kiss. His hand slips down the back of Barry’s shorts to squeeze his ass. Barry squeaks into the kiss.
“Don’t tease,” Leo scolds. His hands slip between them to clutch Ray’s hips. “We promised our darling boy we’d mark him up.”
“We did,” Ray agrees. He pulls back and gives Barry a bright grin. Barry’s heart does an embarrassing little flip in his chest. How did he get so lucky? “Come here, sweetheart.”
Barry follows them to the bed and lets them arrange him on his front. There’s a rustle of fabric and the faint click of plastic.
“Oooh, I’ll take the blue,” Leo says.
“Of course you will,” Len grumbles. Barry glances back just in time to see him hand an electric-blue Sharpie to Leo. Without asking, he fishes out a golden-yellow Sharpie and passes it to Ray.
“I’ll also take the red, if that’s okay.” Ray uncaps the marker. Then he glances down at Barry and checks, “You’re sure you want us writing all over you?”
He nods. “I trust you.”
Leo takes Barry’s hand in both of his and kisses the knuckles. “Do you want our drawings to be visible?” he checks.
“I mean, as long as they’re safe for work.” He grins. “I think Singh would kill me if I walked into work with something like ‘pretty little toy’ written on my neck.”
Len arches an eyebrow. “I’m wounded that you think we’d be that crude, Scarlet. You’re only our pretty little toy at home. To the rest of the world, you’re beautiful and ours, but they have no right to know what we do to you.”
The cool, ticklish tip of a Sharpie touches his wrist. He yelps before he can stop himself. Leo’s hand keeps his pinned to the bed.
“Sorry,” he says before they can ask if he’s changed his mind. “It just feels weird.”
“Well.” Leo draws short, steady lines on the back of his wrist. “You’re going to be so pretty when we’re done.”
Someone shifts the waistband of his shorts. He doesn’t need the amused “Since you asked, Scarlet” to know it’s Len about to make good on his threat to sign his ass.
The tip of a marker touches his shoulder—Ray, he realizes. Unlike Leo and Len, who are working with small, controlled strokes, Ray’s marker swoops across his back in broad, sure lines.
“What are you—oh.” Len sounds impressed. Anything that can get that tone from him is something Barry needs to see. He quashes the urge to demand that one of them take a picture to show him. “That’s going to be impressive.”
“That’s the idea,” Ray says happily.
Barry closes his eyes and forces himself not to wonder what they’re drawing. Instead, he focuses on the sensations: the cool streaks left behind by the Sharpies, the warmth of Leo’s hand over his, the near-inaudible whisper of marker tip on flesh. Len presses a kiss to the curve of his hip before shifting up to doodle on his upper arm.
“Let me see the underside of your wrist, darling boy.” Leo coaxes him to flip his forearm. It’s not a particularly comfortable position, but Barry’s discomfort fades back into blissful, trusting calm. He’s safe with his Doms. They’re going to take good care of him and mark him up, just like he asked.
Eventually, they coax him to roll over. There’s some switching of Sharpie colors and a few sweet kisses before the drawing begins again. Barry can’t be patient any longer. He opens his eyes and raises his left hand to look at what Leo drew around his wrist. There’s a bracelet of bright blue snowflakes inked onto his skin. On the delicate underside of his wrist, there’s a heart amidst the snowflakes.
“I want you to look at that whenever you feel like you don’t deserve our love,” Leo coaxes. He pauses in his doodling to press a kiss to Barry’s belly. “I know that’s all-too-often.”
Ray tugs at the hem of Leo’s shirt. “May I?”
“Oh, yes.” Leo sits up on his heels to shed his shirt; then he lies back down to resume writing on Barry’s belly. “Please do.”
With that, it devolves into a Sharpie free-for-all. Barry snags a purplish-blue marker and writes on whoever is in reach. ‘Brave’ spreads across Ray’s chest, ‘loving and beloved’ across Leo’s shoulders, and ‘beautiful’ over Len’s belly.
“Scarlet.” Len pets his hair. “This is for you.”
“I know,” he agrees. “And I wanna write on you, if you’re okay with it.”
“No more.” He kisses Barry’s hair. Barry hums in agreement, although he’s sad that he won’t get to write his love on Len’s skin the way Len has on his. “But that one I don’t mind.”
When the last loving note has been scribbled on skin, they take pictures of each other. Barry is astonished to find out what Ray was doing on his back: red-and-gold wings spread from his scapulae down to the small of his back, where they cross demurely as though tucked in tight. The feathers are outlined in red and tipped in gold.
“I didn’t fill them in,” Ray explains. “I was afraid the Sharpie wouldn’t last through it.”
In addition to the wings and Leo’s snowflake bracelet, there’s a blue-and-black gemstone on his right upper arm, a heart with a warning (‘Caution: Sweet heart. Do not break’) over his sternum, and countless praises written on his belly. He laughs when he sees ‘Property of Leonard Snart (2) and Ray Terrill’ on his ass in Len’s slanting writing.
Leo has Barry’s ‘loving and beloved’ in large letters across his shoulders, a heart on his left pec, a trio of snowflakes on his collarbone, and (as he’d hoped) ‘Property of Ray Terrill’ on his ass. Ray bears Barry’s ‘brave’ on his chest, a trio of hearts where Leo has the trio of snowflakes, ‘love’ in the small of his back, and ‘gentle’ on each of his fingers. Len only has ‘beautiful’ on his belly.
“Did we miss you?” Leo asks.
“He asked me not to keep writing.” Barry pillows his head on Len’s belly. After a moment, Len cradles his head to keep him in place. “I would have otherwise.”
“Oh.” Leo rests his head on Barry’s thigh and coaxes Ray to settle between his legs. “And are you happy with our drawings, darling boy?”
“So happy.” He pets Leo’s hair and reaches down to stroke Ray’s brow. When they seem content with their petting, he turns his attention to kissing Len’s belly. “Ray, I didn’t realize you were an artist.”
“What, the wings?” Ray grins. “I did some commission work in college. Nothing to boast about.”
“Sounds like you’re boasting,” Len and Leo say simultaneously.
Ray laughs. “Well, maybe a little. Nice to know I haven’t lost my touch.”
“Oh, well that I could have told you,” Barry says without thinking. When he realizes the implications, he buries his face in Len’s belly. “Don’t talk to me, I’m dying of shame.”
“Adorable,” Len murmurs. He rubs his fingertips against Barry’s scalp. The pressure is sheer bliss, and Barry promptly forgets why he was ashamed. “What do you say when you’ve been spoiled like this, Scarlet?”
Right. Good boys are grateful, and he wants to be their good boy. “Thank you, Sirs.”
“Our pleasure,” Leo coos. Somewhat bashfully, he offers, “I don’t suppose anyone is up for more sweets?”
Barry perks up. “Oooh yes please! Always.”
Reluctantly, Len grumbles, “I suppose so.”
(He stops complaining when they try Leo’s chocolate chip pumpkin bread. The others opt not to say anything, but Barry and Leo can’t help smiling at each other. Len forgetting to be snarky is plenty of progress for now.)