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When Hal found out another Green Lantern was selected from Earth he just closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Of course there was. There are no other planets in the universe after all.
He should have known. He really should have known. It was just a matter of time before it happened. The whole reason there are no other planets in the universe is because the universe revolves around the damn Bats.
For fuck’s sake.
At least it’s not Batman. John had told him that much. Just the thought makes him shudder. Hal’s cocky, sure, and it seems to be a prerequisite for getting a ring but... but Batman is a pretentious, arrogant, know-it-all bastard. The only enjoyment Hal gets from working with him is that it bothers Bruce even more than it does him. Or… he likes to think so anyway.
Thankfully, the universe doesn’t hate him that much.
He expects it to be one of the older two. Or maybe he hopes, more than expects. Dick may be Bruce’s man through and through but he’s not afraid to stand up to his old mentor and he’s pleasant company. An easy guy to follow if Hal was, you know, into following. He does miss Dick’s tenure as Batman. He was a definite improvement on the original model.
That said, he’s mostly hoping for the zombie. If for no other reason than to see Kyle’s face when he finds out his old traveling companion has joined the ranks. But also because he hears that one has spent a healthy portion of his second life making Batman’s miserable. Hal thinks the family black sheep would be an easy fit when he and Guy make fun of the pointy-eared bastard.
He met Duke that one time. Duke would be good. Duke seems to have that balance between common sense and self-sacrificial to a fault that is a prerequisite for the Corps. And Batman hasn’t had the chance to ruin him yet.
As for the girls… he’s only met Barabara and he’s always thought she’d make a good Green Lantern. Doesn’t know anything about the other two.
Hal doesn’t even entertain the last boys. One is Bruce Wayne’s flesh and blood—Hal shudders at the thought—and the other, by all accounts, is his bootlicker protege.
The kid standing in front of him, eyeing him up and down as if trying to judge if Hal is worthy of his time, is too tall to be the Demon brat.
Bootlicker it is.
They stare at each other for a minute, each subtly sizing up the other.
Hal opens his mouth to… say something. He does have to train… Jim? Lem?
“I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here,” the kid says, brisk and to the point, before Hal can get a word out. “So let's just get started. That way our time together is minimized.”
Hal scowls as Tim?—he’s pretty sure it’s Tim—turns and floats toward the training area.
Of course Kilowog is away on a mission when they get a fucking Bat.
—————————————————
Hal expects to sympathize with Sinestro and how exasperated the alien had been during Hal’s own training.
He expects Tim to be cocky and arrogant and demanding. He expects the kid to act like he knows everything and infuriatingly look like he does.
He expects mini Batman.
What he gets is… very different.
Oh sure, Tim will occasionally give him an unamused or judging look that fucking screams Batman.
But for the most part, Tim is a model student. He’s eager and listens extremely well. He takes to the technical stuff easily, like the mechanics of fighting without having to worry about a pesky little thing called gravity and all the advanced alien tech.
And where things don’t come easily, Tim puts in the work without complaint.
It doesn’t take very long for him to become proficient. But Hal wants to make him better than that. All the other Green Lanterns from Earth are top tier Corpsmen.
Tim has the potential. Hal can see it in him. He’s got all that annoying hardheaded stubbornness that comes standard on Bats—and Green Lanterns but it’s different, thank you very much—but he also has that tendency to lean into “function over form” as Hal likes to call it. His constructs lack imagination.
Hal needs to find a way to get the kid out of his own head.
It’s probably a bad idea, but after the training session ends, Hal drags him to Guy’s bar.
“I’m not 21,” Tim says, hesitating at the threshold.
Hal rolls his eyes and pushes the kid through the entrance with a hand splayed between his shoulder blades. Tim has grown from the lanky teen bouncing around in Batman’s shadow, still fairly short and lean, but all muscle under his skin.
“This isn’t Earth,” he states simply.
Tim considers for a moment before giving a shrug and stepping forward instead of leaning back against Hal’s palm in resistance.
“Besides,” Hal adds, leading the way through the crowd that’s already gathered to what is known as his booth. Well, the Earth Lanterns’ booth anyway. It’s one of the few booths in general and even though it has an open view of the room, it’s positioning on the back wall, near the bar, makes it one of the more “private” options in the place. “If you’re old enough to fight intergalactic villains, you’re old enough to have a drink.”
Tim frowns at that but slides onto the bench when Hal waves him in anyway.
“I’ve been fighting supervillains since I was 14.”
“What, so like a year?” Hal grins.
“Har, har,” Tim sneers, face doing this cute little pinching thing. Then he grumbles, quietly, “Five years.”
The loud, booming laugh that punches its way out of Hal startles a passing server. But it just makes Tim’s cheeks darken.
“You stay here and pout,” Hal chuckles, turning toward the bar. “I’ll get drinks.”
“Nothing alcoholic!”
Hal snorts but gives the kid an affirmative wave over his shoulder.
This is an alien bar on an alien world that serves a lot of different alien species.
There are plenty of things here that don’t have a drop of alcohol in them and will still get the little Bat shitfaced.
That is not Hal’s goal though. He just wants Tim to loosen up a little, stop overanalyzing and just… let go. The rings are only limited by the wielder’s imagination and to make the most of that, Tim needs to be as comfortable in his skin as he is in his head.
“How’re things going with the punk?” Guy asks as Hal leans against the bar.
“Oh, you know. He’s a Bat but he’s not the Bat.” He shrugs. “Could be worse.”
Guy gives him one of those stupid, infuriatingly charming, lopsided grins and it slams Hal into the past, back to when he first met Guy and had to teach him a thing or two as well.
He can tell Guy is thinking the same thing. Hal can’t pretend he hasn’t thought about it; can’t pretend that part of the reason he doesn’t want Tim wasted is because he’s got… plans for the night and Tim needs to be capable of making decisions.
“What’s he doing?”
The question pulls him back to the moment. He blinks up at Guy, then follows his gaze to where Tim sits, pointing a device at the ring on his finger and examining whatever data it spits out to his tablet.
Sighing Hal turns back to Guy and rolls his eyes again. “Trying to figure out how it works.”
Guy snorts. “Sounds like a waste of time.”
Generally, Hal agrees. It doesn’t really matter how the rings work, just that they do. That’s not good enough for Tim though. He’s intensely curious and likes solving puzzles. Hal likes to watch him try. He squints and chews on his cheek when he’s concentrating and it’s kind of adorable.
“I told him just to think of it as magic and he looked at me like I’d said his mom was a whore. Then launched into this lecture about how advanced technology often looks like magic to less developed people. But he said it in that way where, even though it’s not directly insulting, it’s definitely meant to be. Anyway, he bitched about how, “while there’s nothing precluding aliens from using magic to augment their tech, the rings and the batteries are obviously science and are therefore capable of understanding and reverse engineering.” So yeah. I just let him do his thing.”
“Ugh. That sounds like the Bat,” Guy says, nose wrinkling. “So what do you want?”
“I want him chill out for a minute and just—”
“I meant to drink, dumbass.” Guy’s grin goes sly. “I know what you want from the newbie.”
Hal doesn’t even bother denying it. “I want the usual. Get the kid something like a Tamaranean Aiearnxotl seltzer.”
“Something like the seltzer or the seltzer?”
Now he’s just being a dick.
Hal’s ring hand is out of Guy’s line of sight so he makes a quick construct and sends it around the bar.
He smirks when the paddle connects with Guy’s backside making the younger Lantern yelp. Guy jerks forward on reflex to get away and crashes into the counter on his side. It brings him close enough for Hal to grab him by his shirt.
“Just get the drinks.”
“Yes, sir.” The words come out through Guy’s signature arrogant smirk with Guy’s signature sarcastic lilt. But they also come out breathier than usual.
“That’s what I thought,” Hal says quietly, releasing the red-head and patting a pretty flushed cheek.
Then, he makes his way back to Tim, a bit more amped up for the direction he’s trying to steer the night. Flirting with one of his boys always puts him in a good mood.
Tim doesn’t even look up when Hal slides back into the booth next to him. But after a few moments of pointedly ignoring Hal staring at him, the kid finally sighs.
“Can I help you?” He says, a bit snappish but not really upset. He still keeps his attention on his tablet, tapping occasionally.
“Not yet,” Hal replies. Shifting his weight conveniently puts him in Tim’s space, thighs touching lightly; accidentally. Tim stills but doesn’t move away. Promising. “I’d hate to interrupt anything that makes your face do that cute scrunched up thing. I’ll let you know when I’m tired of looking though.”
He expects the kid to blush and maybe tell him off or something. But, once again, Tim surprises Hal. He sets the tablet down on the table and gives the older Green Lantern a bemused look.
“Are you… hitting on me?” Tim asks. He doesn’t seem put out or even particularly opposed. More just… curious.
Hal gives him his best roguish smirk but his response is cut off by Guy, loudly dropping a tray of drinks on the table and slipping into the booth across from them.
“Hope I’m not interrupting—”
“You are,” Hal interjects.
Guy just gives him that insufferable grin.
“Yeah, well. You order, I deliver.” He responds brightly, shoving their drinks at them and grabbing a third, bright pink and neon green concoction with wedges of fruit on the lip and a fucking umbrella.
Reclining with a thick arm stretched out over the top of the backrest, Guy wraps his plush lips around the glow-in-the-dark straw and pulls the vibrant liquid into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks way more than necessary.
Distracted as he is by the display, it takes Hal an extra moment to notice that he is not the only one. Tim’s cool, slate-blue eyes are locked onto Guy’s obscene lips too, before they wander across the broad expanse of Guy’s chest and trace the muscles in his arms.
Interesting.
Quickly, Hal reevaluates his plans for the evening. This works better. Guy’s apartment is a lot closer.
“To the Corps,” Hal says, raising his glass.
Guy snorts but raises his glass, expression going sly again as his eyes find Hal’s face. “To the newbie. Our own little Bat brat.”
Tim’s gaze finally drags off of the little hint of abs visible from where Guy’s shirt has ridden up and he examines his drink.
“No alcohol?”
“No alcohol.”
The kid doesn’t even twitch. “So what is in it?”
Guy laughs, loud and hearty, drawing Tim’s attention back to him—and for a quick flick of his eyes up and down the older man’s body again—before they settle back on Hal expectantly. Guy doesn’t even seem to notice the way Tim keeps checking him out, like the kid is figuring out the best, most expedient way to devour Guy.
“Look,” Hal sighs. “You’re damn good at this stuff but it takes more than good mechanics and sterling technique. It takes imagination. I just want you to stop over analyzing every single breath you take and get comfy letting your instincts lead the way. Sometimes that’s the difference between life and death.”
“So this was just a sneaky way of getting me drunk?” Tim demands. His lips are turned down in a small disappointed frown. But otherwise he looks completely unperturbed.
“Nah. We wouldn’t do that to you.” They both turn to look at Guy who has shifted forward to lean on the table, arms crossed over his chest, and slurp down the last half of his drink hands free. “It’s Tamaranean. It has a unique way of helping a person get in touch with themselves. To… unclench, as it were.”
Hal shoots Guy a scowl at that last bit. But Tim looks between them a couple of times and he doesn't seem upset, just… thinking.
Then the kid smiles and it’s all sharp and predatory.
“In that case, you’re going to need this more than me,” he says, pushing his drink across the table to Guy.
Hal has just enough time for the meaning of Tim’s words to sink in, just enough time to watch as the same realization causes Guy’s eyes to widen in surprise and a furious blush to spread across his cheeks. He’s almost disappointed when one of his favorite views is cut off. But then there’s a weight in his lap and soft, warm lips against his.
He grips Tim’s waist with both hands and kisses back, deep and probing, lazily exploring the kid’s mouth.
Tim pulls away an inch and Hal watches the drag of a pink tongue over the gentle curve of the younger man’s lips.
“I don’t need a drink to get me in touch with myself,” Tim purrs. “I know what I want and how to get it. I can be very creative when I need to be. Don’t mistake efficiency for lack of imagination.”
Hal pushes down the feeling of being played. Either Tim has had them right where he wants them since he decided he wanted them, or he hasn’t. Either way, Tim will only ever say he did and he’ll only ever say it with such conviction that it’s impossible to argue with.
Fucking Bats.
Hal indulges in one more of those bone deep kisses. Tim bites Hal’s lip as he pulls away and gets off his lap to stand outside the booth.
“Unless Oa has a lot looser rules about fucking in public, we should go somewhere else.” Tim turns a smirk to Guy. “All three of us.”
Guy, still cherry red, chokes on the last of his drink.
Hal doesn’t know why he’s surprised to discover that Tim is a control freak in the bedroom. Every single thing he’s assumed about the kid has been wrong, why would this be any different.
Really, he should have seen this one coming. For all the ways Tim isn’t like Batman, all the ways he is fucking screams—
No. No, Hal is not going to let his idle musing dip into Batman’s bedroom habits. Absolutely not.
He shakes his head to clear the dangerous track that train was heading down and refocuses on the scene unfolding in front of him.
Instead, he watches as Tim uses his ring to pin Guy to the wall and to hover up the half a foot he needs to look down at the older man. Then he sticks his tongue down Guy’s throat to distract him from the nimble construct he uses to slip Guy’s own ring from his finger.
Hal smirks. Yeah. Tim’s a good addition.
He snags the ring out of the air when Tim sends it his way and sets it on Guy’s counter. Hal resolves to pay enough attention soTim doesn’t manage the same trick with him later, no matter what happens.
The way Guy, big, broad, muscled to hell and back, blustering and insolent and cocky, fucking melts when someone starts pushing him around, never fails to send Hal’s blood rushing south. Tim, standing at like 5’6” and weighing in at maybe a buck twenty, is fucking dwarfed by… well, by both of them but Hal’s watching one of Tim’s hands twist and pull at Guy’s fiery hair (just long enough to really get a good grip on, Hal makes sure), while the other hikes Guy’s t-shirt up to paw and pinch at his nipples. Guy tugs at the constructs of shapeless green light that’s keeping his wrists secured to the wall at his hips, desperate to touch and just…
Holy fuck.
Hal’s mouth is dry. He follows the slow drag of Tim’s hand down Guy’s chest (Christ, Guy’s chest is practically twice as broad across as Tim is) down to the waistband of his jeans and deftly pops the button.
It’s not until Tim’s hand slips into Guy’s boxers that Hal notices what he thought were innocent yellow polka dots actually have little black bats centered in them. The only thing that stops him from rolling his eyes so hard he gives himself a migraine is the way Guy’s hips jerk forward when Tim rolls his wrist. Which is followed by the loud, needy moan that rumbles up from Guy’s throat.
Out of the corner of his eye, Hal sees Guy flex his hand, then rub his thumb over where his ring should be.
“Missing something, Gardner?” Hal says through a grin.
Tim doesn’t let up enough for Guy to respond immediately. In fact, when Guy tries to pull his head back, Tim’s arms flex as he grips the captive Lantern’s face tighter and plasters his smaller body against the larger one at his mercy.
Eventually though, Tim does back off. Not too far, just lands on the ground directly in front of Guy, still secured to the wall, his own wicked little smile screaming trouble, grey-blue eyes sharp and ravenous.
Guy is panting, big tits heaving up and down, the movement mesmerizing. He’s breathless and his voice cracks, undermining his words, when he says, “I let you take it.”
Grin widening, Tim pulls his hand out of Guy’s boxers, getting an almost inaudible whine at the loss. He keeps his pale eyes fixed on Guy’s green ones as he raises his hand to his lips and slowly licks off a streak of precome.
“Sure you did, big guy,” Tim hums, seemingly reveling in the way Guy stares at him, wide-eyed.
Hal is staring too. He didn’t expect the little bat to be quite so… confident? Dominant?
“How ‘bout we really get things going?” Hal says, nodding to the door on the far side of the apartment where Guy’s bedroom is.
As much fun as it is to watch, it feels like he’s been hard forever and he’d like to get his own hands on Tim.
It’s clear that, like Hal, Guy assumes Tim will release him so he can walk. It’s just as clear, given Guy’s grunt and indignant “Hey!”, that they are both equally surprised when Tim pulls Guy off the wall to lie face up in mid-air, surrounded by a rectangle of green light that looks like…
“Seriously?” Hal asks, following as Tim floats a spluttering Guy towards the indicated door. “Carbonite?”
“Surprised you get the reference,” Tim says conversationally.
“I can walk you fuckin’... let me up you little bastard—”
Hal snorts. More at Tim than Guy. “Please. Those X-Wing vs. TIE Fighter battles are modeled after real dogfights. I have those movies memorized.”
Tim pauses mid-stride, just long enough to glance up at Hal and raise his eyebrows. Then the cocky smirk returns and he’s tossing Guy onto his own bed, once again using constructs to restrain the bigger man’s wrists to the headboard.
Guy grunts when he lands. Glaring up at them, he opens his mouth to bite out some smartass complaint. But before he can utter more than a syllable, there’s a ball of shiny green light wedged between his teeth.
Heat pools low in Hal’s belly. Guy’s angry puppy glare always makes his cock leap in interest.
The look melts away quickly though when Tim follows him onto the bed, hands sliding up his legs before pausing to squeeze the thick meat of his thighs. He throws his head back and moans at whatever Tim does when his hands slip under the boxers again.
Hal watches Tim watch a pink flush start to creep from Guy’s cheeks, down his throat to his chest. Tim is transfixed, all his intensity focused on every little muscle twitch and aborted gasp that Guy tries to keep to himself.
Without taking his eyes away from the man laid out for his pleasure, Tim pulls one hand back and starts messily sucking on two fingers. The hand that stays under the thin, Batman themed fabric, only pauses long enough to allow hand-shaped constructs to slowly pull the underwear off completely.
More constructs wind their way around Guy’s ankles, formless and plain before snapping into sharp detail. Heavy chains of links grow out of the cuffs and snake toward the headboard. They pull Guy’s legs with them until his ass raises off the bed and he makes a strained, offended sound.
“You remind me of my brother,” Tim chuckles, popping the fingers out of his mouth and reaching forward to circle the soaked digits lightly around Guy’s hole. Freshly exposed to them and twitching at each soft, teasing caress. “He’s a big, tough, smartass who just wants someone to put him in his place too. You’re not quite as flexible though.”
Guy’s retorting growl takes a sharp swing into a moan when Tim pushes his fingers into him.
“Jesus, kid,” Hal mutters, both at Tim’s words and the way he seems to know exactly how to twist Guy into knots.
It’s clear when Tim looks over his shoulder at him with an infuriating smirk, that the kid knows exactly how to twist Hal up too.
“Waiting for an invitation?” Tim asks, smiling wider when Guy jolts at the way Tim curls the fingers inside him and presses a thumb firmly down on Guy’s perineum.
Hal’s cock throbs again.
“Waiting for you to get naked.”
Tim jabs a third finger past Guy’s rim and directly into his prostate judging by the way the man bucks into the air and writhes. Tim doesn’t even look down at him, keeps his eyes trained on Hal’s.
“Age before beauty.”
Hal opens his mouth to argue but he gives the kid a once over, taking in the lean line of his body, the cut of his muscles under the skin-tight Green Lantern uniform, and the thin but pleasantly shaped curve of his lips. Finally, the wicked glint in his cool, calculating gaze.
With a thought, Hal lets his uniform disappear. He takes some satisfaction in the slight, almost unnoticeable widening of Tim’s eyes as the kid shamelessly checks him out, gaze catching on his thick, leaking, dick.
Two steps of Hal’s long legs bring him to the edge of the bed where he can drag his hands over Tim’s ass, around his waist, and across his abs.
“Your turn,” he rumbles into Tim’s ear, chin on his shoulder as he watches the younger man spread his fingers wide, stretching Guy’s hole. All but drooling, he adds, “That’s obscene.”
Tim hums, brings his fingers back together and screws them in hard, ripping a deep, guttural moan from Guy’s throat. “He’s gorgeous.”
The pink blush on Guy’s cheeks and neck blooms scarlet and rushes down to his navel. He really is gorgeous.
“So are you,” Hal says, taking great delight in the tinge of color that rises on Tim’s cheekbones and the tips of his ears. “Now strip.”
Obstinate to his core, Tim doesn’t of course. Instead, his uniform fades artfully away from his front and back, starting at his hips and going about midway down his inner thighs. But not his outer thighs. He is, in effect, still almost entirely dressed. Basically all that is missing is a patch at Tim’s crotch and ass.
“Rookie power move,” Hal grumbles. “I could put my clothes back on too, you know.”
Tim smirks, spits on his own hand and starts to stroke himself. It’s only many years of facing the impossible and unexpected that keeps Hal from visibly reacting to the sheer, monstrous size of Tim’s cock. It might, seriously, be the biggest human one he’s ever seen. It’s not even remotely proportional. How can a man that little have something that long and thick between his legs?
Tim is going to absolutely wreck Guy.
“You could,” Tim purrs like a cat with its prey in its paws. It takes Hal a second to remember what he’d said. “But you won’t.”
Hal snorts. “Oh? And why’s that?”
Tim shoves his ass back against Hal’s groin. “Because I told you not to.”
Hal tries to stop the instinctive shudder that rolls through his body because he knows Tim can feel it and he knows the little shit will be smug about it. But he can’t. It’s a reflex he didn’t even know he had.
He puts his hands on Tim’s hips and smooths one down a perky little buttcheek to give it a light smack.
“Do I need to put you in your place?” Hal echoes Tim’s earlier comment to Guy between nipping his ear and jaw.
Tim chuckles as he pulls his fingers out of Guy—who is covered in a light sheen of sweat and writhing impatiently from all Tim’s teasing—and pulls the larger man closer to him like he weighs nothing.
“Tell you what, daddy. If you’re a good boy now, maybe I’ll let you punish me later.”
Guy and Hal both stop moving and blink at each other.
“Fucking hell, kid.”
Tim turns into him and presses their lips together, tongue demanding entrance that Hal eagerly accepts.
“I’m gonna fuck Guy,” Tim murmurs, voice low and sinful. “You can fuck me, watch, or leave. I’d prefer the first. But we’d understand if you were too tired, old man.”
Hal shoves him forward which only makes him laugh more, even as he puts the head of his giant prick to Guy’s entrance.
“You’re really asking for it, bat brat,” Hal gripes, pulling Tim’s asscheeks apart to get a look at what’s waiting for him.
The sight stops him cold in his tracks.
Nestled deep in Tim’s tight, pink hole, is a plug of bright, glowing green light, the base of which is shaped like the Lantern symbol.
“Yeah, I am,” Tim quips.
That’s the end of Hal’s restraint. He growls and rips the plug out of Tim, a little surprised the kid lets him have it so easily.
It’s thick as a fist (well, not Hal’s… maybe Tim’s) and dripping lube. When it doesn’t just disappear, Hal tosses it on the bed next to Guy’s thigh. Tim picks it up, wipes off some of the lube and uses it to coat his own dick.
“Jesus christ,” Hal mutters, pressing the head of his cock to Tim’s hole and pushing in, watching as Tim does the same to Guy.
Hal likes to think he’s the one setting the pace. He should be. Every time he drives into Tim, Tim drills into Guy (and holy fuck if Guy, limbs stretched out over his head, drooling past the gag, and getting split open on Tim’s huge prick isn’t the fucking Eighth Wonder). But the way Tim rocks back into Hal on the pull out, the way the kid’s velvet heat clenches down around him, as if to drag him into the next thrust, makes Hal question just who is really in control here.
Successfully suppressing a shudder, Hal leans into what he knows he can control. He wraps one arm around Tim’s slim waist for better leverage as he pistons into the younger man. With his free hand, he reaches out a little farther, savoring the way Guy thrashes and gives a muffled shout when he gets his hand on Guy’s red, neglected cock. He keeps his eyes on the scene in front of him, Tim fucking Guy and Guy falling apart and sets his mouth to nip and suck at the thin strip of exposed skin above the high collar of Tim’s neck and ear.
He loses track of time in the steady, punishing rhythm; in the parted lips and heavy, wet breaths; in the hypnotizing ripple of muscle under smooth flesh; in the way they seamlessly move together without speaking.
Guy is hot and throbbing in his hand as he pumps his fist up and down, twisting every couple of strokes, thumbing over the head, digging his finger into the tip, pressing against the frenulum. All while Tim hits his prostate on every… well, with his size, he has probably been rubbing against the sensitive gland the entire time.
It’s not long before Guy completely unravels. Legs and arms trembling like a leaf in a strong breeze, Hal works him through it, angling Guy’s cock so that he shoots streaks all over his own flushed, heaving chest.
The ball gag disappears and Guy gasps for air, his moans louder and more defined.
Tim’s pace never stutters, even though Hal knows first hand how sublime it feels to have Guy spasming around him… the fucking determination and willpower of this kid.
Hal makes a half-hearted resolution to hold out longer than the skinny little brat. But he’s so fucking close and Tim is still keeping Guy chained in position; seems to be invigorated by the way Guy’s moans have tapered into whimpers and the indecipherable, partially formed words that die into ah-ah-ha-nngh’s, punched out before they can become complaints of oversensitivity.
And he’s still squeezing down around Hal like a constrictor with a death-grip.
Then Tim breaks rhythm. He goes half a second off and slams himself down on Hal’s cock.
Hal yelps in surprise and comes buried to the hilt in Tim’s tight, perfect little ass.
Tim doesn’t even seem to notice. Or acts like he doesn’t notice. He just keeps pumping away at Guy.
After a minute, the post-orgasmic haze clears enough for Hal to realize he’s still inside Tim and Tim’s continued fucking is starting to hurt.
With a soft hiss, he pulls out. Keeps Tim spread for a moment to admire the way his come starts to drip out of his puffy hole and down his taint.
Then he moves to sit up at the head of the bed and run his fingers through Guy’s sweat-damp hair.
“H-Hal…”
Fuck he’s wrecked. Guy’s eyes are rolled back under heavy lids, tears and drool dry in streaks across his face, his lips are swollen and red and his whole body is flushed and glistening as it’s rocked up and down the mattress with each drive of Tim’s dick.
“Shh,” Hals hums down at him, comfortingly. “It’s ok. You’re doing so well, baby.”
“Almost there,” Tim grunts. Hal is happy to hear that his words come out a bit breathless. Happy to see that Tim’s eyes are blown out in lust, that his body is covered in the same sheen of sweat.
But he’s still infuriatingly present. Watching with a critical, if hungry, eye as Guy sobs on his cock and writhes in oversensitivity and desperation.
It occurs to Hal that Tim might have a slight sadistic streak and he can’t help but smile. John and Kyle are both capable of that and even enjoy it occasionally, but it’s not their favorite way to play. It’ll be nice to have someone else who can help pick up the slack.
Finally, Tim’s pacing falters. After a dozen more thrusts, he cries out and stills. Then slumps forward to sprawl across Guy’s chest.
Guy whimpers and Hal marvels at the insane stamina of this kid, when Tim flicks his tongue over Guy’s nipple and alternates between licking and sucking just to hear more of those sounds.
After a couple minutes of silence during which they all catch their breath (well, Guy not so much), Hal breaks the quiet.
“I think today’s training went pretty well. You’re a quick study.”
Tim pauses his torture of Guy to snort. “If it makes you feel better to pretend you were the teacher of this lesson and not the student, I guess I can be magnanimous enough to leave you your delusion.”
Hal opens his mouth to snap back a witty retort.
But he doesn’t really have anything to say to that.
Fucking Bats.