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“… and it never really worked quite right after that,” Guy says, waving his hand around in a vague gesture. Too bad it’s the hand holding his beer. Kyle watches as it spills a little, sloshing over the sides of the mug. He has no idea what Guy’s rambling on about, probably something to do with some woman, if he knows his friend at all, but he nods anyway. It sounds like it was something important.
At least something very high up on the scale of “things that are important to Guy Gardner.”
Kyle nods again, even though Guy isn’t talking anymore. He kicks his feet against the side of the bar and grins.
He’s drunk.
Actually, honest-to-God drunk.
So drunk that he’s having a hard time remembering how they got to be here. Well, not here specifically—they’re at the new bar on Oa. Guy had said something about “christenin’ the place”, which had led to them drinking a little of everything in the bar. No, what Kyle can’t remember is how they got to be up here on the bar itself, drinking beer and watching world move outside the windows, Guy rambling on and on about whatever it is he’s talking about. Honestly, Kyle’s just worried how he’s going to get down.
“…you know what I mean?” Guy asks, snapping Kyle back to the present. He has no idea what he was saying.
“Huh?”
“You’re not paying attention to me at all, are you kid?” Guy asks, nudging him with his shoulder. Guy smiles and throws his arm around Kyle’s shoulders, tugging him off balance. Unfortunately for Kyle it happens to be the hand that’s holding the beer that comes to rest on his shoulder, and the cool liquid sloshes out of the mug and down the front of his shirt.
“Hey, you’re pretty drunk, aren’tcha?” Guy asks, all smiles, and he’s a warm warm press against Kyle’s side, and it feels like a vivid contrast compared to the cool liquid on his shirt.
Kyle frowns at his shirt, and then turns his head to frown at Guy. “You got my shirt wet,” he says.
“So take it off. Didn’t know you were such a lightweight, kid. You’re going to have to do better than this if you’re going to help run this place.” Guy pulls his arm back so he can take another swig of beer. Why not take off his shirt, now that he can? Guy already took his off a while ago, after that incident with the mixed drinks and the maraschino cherries. And Kyle may not be sticky, but the whole front of his shirt’s wet and slicked against his skin, and it’s pretty annoying.
He has some trouble pulling the shirt over his head—it gets caught around his arms and neck, and he can’t see anything, can’t seem to get his head free, and he’s just starting to panic when he feels it come off with a sharp tug.
Guy’s grinning face is the first thing he sees, and he’s close enough that Kyle can count the freckles on his nose. He counts seven of them before he realizes he’s doing it. He shakes his head, trying to clear it.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, lightweight. Heh.” Guy is smiling at him in that way that has always, always meant trouble. “You know, we’ve drunk a whole lot of booze tonight, but there’s still one thing we haven’t done.”
“What’s that?” Kyle asks warily.
“Body shots.”
“Body shots?”
Kyle watches Guy as he leans back, twisting so he can reach under the bar. He digs around for a minute and comes back with a bottle of tequila, a shot glass, and a saltshaker.
“Guess we’ll have’ta do without the lemons. Oh well. And don’t tell me that you don’t know what a body shot is, ‘cause I’ll have to feel real sorry for you. All that fun you’ve missed out on.” Guy pours a healthy amount of tequila into the shot glass, shaking his head as if it’s possibly the saddest thing he’s ever heard.
“Of course I do,” Kyle says indignantly. “But don’t you need a girl for that?”
“Pfft. You don’t always have to have a girl to have some fun. Here, lean back,” Guy says, pulling and pushing on Kyle until he has to move or lose his balance. “And put your leg on that side—there you go.”
Kyle finds himself flat on his back on the bar, his legs splayed open and half hanging off the sides, and Guy leaning over him. “Hey, what—“ Kyle says, and starts to sit up.
Or tries to, at least. Guy is pushing him down with a warm hand on his chest, the other one splayed out on his thigh, high up and holding him steady with a gentle, easy pressure.
“Shh…let me show you,” he whispers into Kyle’s belly, right before he licks a long wet stripe up his abs, curving around his belly button. Kyle shivers and decides to go with it, leaning back on his elbows and watching.
Guy shifts and crawls all the way onto the bar, and now his knees are pressing against the insides of Kyle’s thighs, keeping his legs apart. He grabs the saltshaker and shakes it over the spot he just licked. He picks up the shot glass and tips it at Kyle.
It’s a question, which would be kind of sweet if Guy hadn’t already manhandled Kyle down onto the bar in the first place. He nods.
Guy grins again, already leaning down. He braces one hand on Kyle’s hip while the one holding the shot glass rests against his thigh, and licks over the same spot, sits up, and throws back the shot all in one easy motion.
It’s over in a couple of seconds, but Kyle can still feel the weight of Guy’s tongue on his belly, the drag of his lips against his skin. It feels like one of those moments, an electrically charged moment of “if”, and it’s not something that he’s used to feeling around Guy, it’s an option that he never knew existed. Kyle knows that they could go back to drinking, that they could laugh at this tomorrow, and well-- courage in a bottle, right? He smiles.
“That’s not how you do a body shot. You’re supposed to take the shot off the person, you know, like out of a girl’s bra or out of their belly button.”
Kyle’s pretty sure that Guy’s not nearly as drunk as he is; pretty sure that that look is surprise. Guy raises his eyebrows. He’s on his knees between Kyle’s legs, his hands resting on his own thighs. “Is that so, hotshot?”
“You’re the one who wanted to do a body shot. You should do it right, that’s all.”
Guy’s looking at him, well—it’s kind of sharply for Guy. Kyle has a moment to wonder at the scrutiny before Guy smirks at him and pushes him firmly back down on the bar. “All right, big boy, have it your way. You’re going to need to lay flat for this, then. And don’t move, or you’ll ruin it—“
Kyle nods and—
“Hey, what did I say? No moving.”
“Okay.”
“Talking is moving, now hold still—“
Kyle can’t see anything from this angle except for the blur of his own cheeks and the vague shape of Guy. He can tell that he’s moving around, but not much else. Bottles rattle around, and he can hear the Tequila being poured. A heavy ‘thunk’ means the bottle’s been set back down, and then Guy moves close again, and Kyle decides to give up trying to see what’s going on and closes his eyes instead. Guy touches him again, one hand on his thigh and the other close by his side, resting on the bar, and-- this is so strange with his eyes closed. It feels like the warmth of Guy’s body is bleeding into him—a firebrand where his hands are pressed against his leg and side, a presence where he hovers above him. And maybe Kyle’s not as drunk as he thought he was, not drunk enough for this. He can hear a little voice in the back of his head, demanding to know what exactly is going on, and he doesn’t want to listen to it right now. He swallows hard and takes a deep breath.
“Still.”
He feels hyper-aware of everything with his eyes closed, so when Guy licks a circle around his belly button this time he almost jerks with it. Almost. He realizes that he’s gripping the sides of the bar with both hands, but he can’t seem to relax them at all. Guy shifts again, and Kyle can feel the sprinkle of salt against his skin, and with his eyes closed it would feel ticklish if it weren’t so light.
“Heh. Time for the Tequila. This shouldn’t be too cold. Unfortunately.”
Kyle can almost see Guy’s face grimacing in distaste; he can certainly hear it in his voice. He smiles.
The liquor isn’t too cold or warm when it touches his skin, but perfectly room temperature, so that it’s a little cool against his skin.
“Alright. Ready?”
Guy told him not to move, so he’s not moving.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
He was close before, but suddenly he’s so much closer, practically on top of Kyle. The hand on his thigh is sliding way too high up, and the one that had been resting by his side is now moving down to cup his hip.
With his eyes closed and nothing but his other senses to go by, Kyle feels a like he’s getting ready to be devoured. He holds back a shiver at the feeling as best he can but then Guy’s tongue is on his belly again and now he feels like he’s going crazy.
Guy licks the salt off in one smooth swipe of his tongue before literally slurping the shot out of his belly button. As fast as he can do it, Kyle guesses, because that has to be gross, drinking warm Tequila that slowly.
Maybe not as fast as he can, because Guy is still licking his stomach—licking it clean, and Kyle has to lean up so he can see, so he can watch Guy’s tongue stab into his navel and that feels—that feels good. Still good when he does it again, and it feels like it’s pulling something out of him, tugging hard, and when Guy looks up his eyes are dark.
Kyle should really be surprised, but it seems like his body knows what it’s doing without him, and when Guy slides his hand up to cover Kyle’s crotch he moans and presses into it. He hadn’t even realized he was hard. His eyes flutter closed.
“Guy…”
He presses up into Guy’s hand again and Guy hums into his skin, licks at his belly button one more time before he starts moving up his stomach, but it’s nothing but a tease with his legs spread like this, denim pulled taut and unyielding. It’s nothing like enough.
“Guy, please…” he trails off in a moan, again, pushing up as best he can, and there’s a part of his brain that’s kind of mortified by the sounds he’s making, but he doesn’t care. It’s crazy to be doing this, and he wouldn’t have thought, wouldn’t have even dreamed of this before.
Guy kisses his way up Kyle’s chest and Kyle arches into it. A flicker of his tongue over Kyle’s nipple makes him groan, and Guy’s fingers have found the other one and are pinching, twisting it—his other hand is still working him through his jeans—and it feels like all the noises he’s making are being pulled out of him. Guy only stays where he is for a moment before he’s moving again, kissing his way up Kyle’s throat, his chin, and Kyle doesn’t realize how tightly he’s closed his eyes until Guy stops moving entirely, until the kiss he’s expecting doesn’t come. He opens them.
Guy’s looking down at him, and his face is flushed, his lips are maybe a little swollen, and he’s looking at Kyle fondly. “There you are, pretty boy,” he says, grinning down at him. “So how drunk are you, really?”
Kyle thinks about it, and honestly he knows exactly what he’s doing, exactly who he’s doing it with. The alcohol’s simply making things easier.
He hooks a leg up and around Guy’s thigh, his ass, and tugs him down until they’re both laying flat on the bar, flush against each other. He grinds his hips up into Guy’s, feels how hard he is, too. He bites back a moan.
“Not so drunk that I don’t know what I’m doing. Who I’m doing it with.”
“Good,” Guy says, and he looks serious. It’s an expression Kyle’s not used to seeing on his face. “‘Cause I don’t want us to not be friends anymore just ‘cause you got drunk and I got carried away. All the great sex in the world ain’t worth that.”
Kyle can feel himself blushing under the weight of Guy’s stare. He never would’ve thought it would be like this with him, but he really should’ve known.
“Great sex?” he asks, going for casual and missing the mark by several yards. His voice doesn’t crack though, so that’s something.
Guy smirks at him, and that’s normal. “Oh baby you just wait,” he says, so close- his lips ghosting over Kyle’s. “I’ll show you.”
Kyle has to kiss him, to shut him up or maybe because he has to, and so he does. He's pushing up as Guy's leaning in and it's a mess-- their teeth click together and the angle's all wrong, and it's wet and hot and awkward, and then Guy shoves a hand into his hair, tilts his head and then it's hot and wet and perfect.
Kyle gasps into the kiss, sucks on Guy's tongue and rides the feeling and really, he should be doing something with his hands other than gripping the sides of the bar. He lets go, gets one arm wrapped around Guy's neck, and the other splayed out along his lower back before he slides that hand down until it curves over Guy's ass. Squeezes, and the kiss becomes a messy, messy thing. Guy gasps into his mouth and thrusts down and yeah. That's a great idea.
Kyle grinds his hips up, Guy grinds down and it's absolutely perfect, this rush of feeling, and Kyle hasn't made out like this since he was a teenager, frantic and a little desperate. Guy tears his mouth away, kissing his way down his jaw line towards his neck, and Kyle tips his head back to make it easier for him to kiss him there, to bite down hard--
"Oh God," Kyle moans, thrusts his hips up harder.
"Fuck, yeah. I knew you'd be like this, so fucking hot, baby--"
Kyle moans again, and he doesn't want to come in his pants like a teenager, but that's where this is headed, pretty quickly. Especially since Guy doesn't seem to be able to shut up.
"...God I want to blow you."
Kyle arches up so hard that his head slams down against the bar, and God, he wants that too, but it's never going to happen if they don't get their pants off.
"Pants," he gasps, and Guy’s kissing him again, and wanting to get them off, needing to get them off, doesn’t stop him from kissing back. Guy kisses like he means it, thorough and slow and with an intense amount of focus, and if a part of Kyle could stay here and do this all night, it’s not the part that’s about to make a mess in his jeans.
Guy groans into his mouth and pulls away. He twists out of Kyle’s grip and sits back, and Kyle’s reaching for him even as he realizes that Guy’s sitting back so he can reach his fly, and oh—that had been his idea all along. Guy grins at him, popping the buttons on Kyle’s jeans one by one.
“Yes,” and it’s all Kyle can manage before Guy gets a hand into his pants, wraps around him and squeezes, and all the air rushes out of his lungs like he’s been punched. Guy’s still grinning, but it’s sharper, more focused.
“You like that?” Guy asks, and Kyle falls back, his head thumping against the bar. He can feel himself twitching, pulsing pre-come as he pushes into Guy’s hand— and he’s so close, that fast.
“Oh no, baby no, not this way—I want to taste you—“
Kyle moans. He’s clutching the sides of the bar again, and he’s got to make himself stop, got to slow down, but Guy’s not helping, hand still wrapped around him—
“Then get my goddamn pants off, ah—“
One last, vicious squeeze and Guy pulls his hand out of Kyle’s pants, reaching immediately for his waistband and tugging.
Kyle takes the hint, raising his hips off the bar so Guy can tug his jeans and boxers down, and Guy has to lean back as far as he can to tug them off. Kyle arches up, pulling his knees up to his chest to help, and it’s a miracle neither of them end up on the floor after that, but they don’t and Kyle’s naked now—hard and panting—so he’s got other things to worry about.
“God you’re gorgeous,” Guy says, and it should sound utterly ridiculous coming out of his mouth, but it makes Kyle blush, and maybe—no, definitely—moan, and Guy’s hands are on his thighs again, that quick, pressing them apart so he can move between them. Sliding up to his hips and pressing him down, and Guy—stops.
He’s looking up at Kyle through the fringe of his hair, his eyes dark and wild. Kyle can feel every breath he takes, warm against his skin, and when he tries to arch up into it Guy presses down harder. Bites him on the hip. “You’re gonna kill me for being a tease, aren’t you?” he asks, and Kyle whimpers, tries not to push his hips up. He’s going to have bruises…
“Stay like that too long and I’ll come on your face—ow—“
Definitely going to have bruises, because Guy’s pushing him down harder, licking down his hip and moaning, and oh— he laughs.
“Maybe next time then, ah—please Guy, you have to—“
He really does, and soon—Kyle’s so close that it’s not going to last, and he doesn’t care, he just wants Guy’s mouth on him, and then it is—hot and sweet and Kyle whines high in his throat and tries to push deeper. He can’t with Guy’s hands pinning him down, and that’s probably a good thing, because whatever control he may have thought he had is being obliterated by Guy’s wet wet mouth sliding over him, down and deep and God—he’s not even trying to go slow now, just swallowing him down.
“Oh God, Guy, please, please,” Kyle says, and he’s not sure what he’s begging for, except for more, and then Guy’s pulling back, sucking hard and groaning around him. Back down again and it’s deeper this time, and whatever part of Kyle’s mind it was that hadn’t expected any of this, had been wondering when the hell Guy Gardner had started sleeping with men, is pretty effectively silenced. He’s obviously had some practice at some point.
“Jesus fuck—ah—“ Kyle gasps, moaning, and he manages to get one hand into Guy’s hair, skittering over his buzzed scalp, before he comes, orgasm rolling through him so hard it feels like it’s being pulled from the tips of his fingers to the bottoms of his feet.
He can faintly hear Guy groaning around him, swallowing as he pulls off, and he doesn’t wait even a second before he’s crawling up Kyle’s body and kissing him. Kyle whimpers into it, licks the taste of himself off Guy’s tongue, and tries to remember how to think.
He doesn’t get much of a chance.
Guy pulls back, sits back, and oh—he’s fumbling with his own pants and Kyle, Kyle can totally help with that. He sits up and reaches for Guy, swats his hands away from his pants and undoes them himself, helps Guy shove them down and out of the way. Guy’s panting, and he’s so hard, flushed dark and leaking, and when Kyle wraps his hand around him he immediately bucks into his fist. They’re both on their knees, on top of the bar, and Kyle’s pretty sure there’s some windows across the room that could be giving someone a great view right about now, but he doesn’t care.
Guy’s eyes are closed, and he’s whimpering now, thrusting up into Kyle’s hand.
“What do you need?” Kyle asks him, and when Guy opens his eyes the look in them is so intense—
“Nothing we’ve got the proper supplies for here,” Guy answers, and Kyle—Kyle didn’t think he was capable of blushing anymore tonight, but he was wrong.
“Oh, uh…”
“I want you in a bed,” Guy says, and smirks at him. He closes his eyes briefly. “But, uh, this—this is good,” he says, and he’s still pushing up into Kyle’s fist, “or, uh—“ he reaches out, traces the shape of Kyle’s mouth, wraps his hand around Kyle’s neck and tugs a little. Lets go.
“But really. Whatever’s—good. I’m easy. Heh.”
Kyle can feel himself smirking. This is Guy being weirdly sweet again, not pushing even though he wants too, and it’s completely unnecessary. He shoves Guy backwards, watches his eyes open wide before he ducks his head down and takes him into his mouth, getting him nice and wet before sucking hard—
“Oh fuck—“
Guy’s hands are in his hair, and it feels like they’re shaking with the effort not to grab, and that’s ridiculous. He pulls off.
“I’m not going to break, you know,” he says. Guy groans, grabs his head and pulls him back down.
“Mmmm.” Kyle opens up for him, and this, apparently, is one of those things like riding a bike—you don’t forget how to do it. Watch the teeth, use your tongue, suck—
“Ahhh—Fuck, Kyle, yes—“
He bobs his head up, sucking hard, slides back down and does it again, and Guy’s moaning, talking constantly, if incoherently, and it feels like he’s getting harder under Kyle’s tongue. He’s not going to last much longer. Kyle goes down as far as he can, lips against his own fist, farther when he moves his hand out of the way and swallows around him.
“Gonna—oh shit, Kyle—,“ Guy cries out, bucking under him and holding his head still, and Kyle moans, swallowing as best he can as Guy fills his mouth. He doesn’t get it all, though, and there’s come dribbling down his chin as he pulls back.
Tries to pull back.
Guy’s still holding him still.
He lets go after a second, hands falling loosely to his sides.
“Fuck.”
So now Kyle pulls back, braces himself on one hand and wipes his chin. There’s come on his hand now, and he looks at it thoughtfully for a moment before licking it off, sucking his fingers into his mouth.
Guy makes a strangled sound above him, and Kyle looks up to see him staring down at him dazedly, and then he’s being hauled up onto his knees and Guy’s pulling his hand out of his mouth and kissing him.
This kiss is slow and as unhurried as the others had been sort of frantic, and Kyle relaxes into it easily, easier than he would've ever thought-- and he's most emphatically not thinking right now-- wraps his arms around Guy's neck and pulls himself closer, higher up on his knees until Guy has to tilt his head upwards. He can feel Guy shifting underneath him, wriggling his pants the rest of the way off and kicking them into the floor, and then suddenly he's falling forwards, falling half on top of Guy who's stretched himself out across the bar. He makes a muffled sound into Guy's mouth but somehow doesn't break the kiss, and Guy's smiling against his mouth, and he's got to pull back and see that.
Soft smile, and it's not a grin, not a smirk, but Guy still manages to look utterly pleased with himself.
Kyle thinks he can be okay with that.
*****
"Jesus Christ! What the fuck are you two doing?"
Kyle wakes up to the sound of Hal Jordan cursing. His head is pounding. He whimpers and tries to dig farther into the blankets, maybe find another pillow to hide under, except his pillow doesn't seem to want to move. His pillow seems to be breathing, and Oh--
"Well we were sleeping. What the hell, Hal?"
Guy.
Kyle, as hungover as he is, all the blood in his body seemingly pounding into his head, manages to blush from what feels like the top of his ears to the bottom of his feet. "Oh, God," he moans.
Wait—blankets?
Kyle opens his eyes a sliver and yes. Bright green, slightly glowing construct blankets, and he’s going to start laughing hysterically any second now, except his head still hurts and Hal’s still having what sounds to be some sort of apoplectic fit, talking—no, yelling—about appearances, and rules and –
“… see you through the damn windows, you know!”
“Wasn’t really thinking about the windows, Hal.” Guy says, and he sounds both tired and completely annoyed. He slides out from under Kyle and off of the bar, uniform appearing in a flash of green, and scrubs his hand through his hair. Hal looks like he’s about to say something very very stupid, considering the expression on Guy’s face. Kyle sits up, the ‘blankets’ falling around his waist
“I knew they were there,” he says, and great. Now they’re both looking at him, and why the hell did he even say that? He suddenly realizes that he’s completely naked, and doesn’t know where his pants are—and oh. Yeah. He has a ring too.
“The windows, I mean,” he says as soon as he’s got his uniform on. He jumps down off of the bar, and they’re still staring at him, Guy almost questioningly and Hal with his mouth open in a little ‘o’ of surprise. He wonders if he can make that expression any worse.
It’s more than likely.
He grins.
“I remembered them last night.”
Hal’s face does do some interesting things before it settles on simply ‘shocked’, but it’s Guy who catches his attention and keeps it. He’s grinning at Kyle, and he looks like a kid who just got promised ice cream.
“Freaky exhibitionist,” Guy says fondly. Kyle blushes, again.
“Look,” he says to Hal, “can we pretend none of this ever happened?”
Hal nods, and Guy relaxes, throws an arm around Hal as he leads them out of the bar. “So what brings you to Oa, anyway?”
“Oh, you know, I was in the neighborhood..”
“Really.”
“Yes really! You know, I didn’t have to come by and see you—“
“I wish you hadn’t—“
Kyle listens to them argue as he follows them out of the bar, and yeah, this is pretty normal. He wonders if there’s any way to say to Hal: “Hey, thanks for making the morning after less awkward and terribly embarrassing at the same time” without actually saying any of it.
Maybe Kyle will make him a card.