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"So these are your quarters," Wally said, waving his hands at a nondescript expanse of grey wall. "Uh, you don't actually have to sleep here, but everyone has a room. Batman's idea. Equality, or something. I don't really use mine, given the whole--" he gestured at his suit.
"Thanks, man," Kyle said.
"Hey, did you want to get dinner? There's an Ethiopian place back in Keystone I want to check out."
"You could literally run to Ethiopia, and you want to eat in Keystone City?"
"Okay, Mr. Greenwich Village, I have coworkers who I have to make small talk with, so sue me."
"I can't." Kyle grimaced. "I have monitor duty in like two hours, which is a really useless amount of time. Might as well break in the mattress."
"Suit yourself," Wally said, and blurred down the hall. Kyle realized once he'd left that he didn't actually know how to open his quarters, or even which part of the wall was supposed to be the door. He held up the ring to scan it--
"Welcome, Green Lantern Zero Four," a soft voice chimed, and a section of the wall slid away to reveal a small bedroom.
"Well, that answers that, I guess," Kyle said, and stepped inside. It wasn't bad, as bedrooms went. Kind of future motel vibes. A small bed, and a little desk, and a panel that slid back to reveal a gleaming silver chamber that was probably some sort of space age toilet or shower or something. Kyle imagined asking Batman which knob was hot in the next briefing meeting, and then he imagined Batman kicking his ass.
No one had seen fit to put a TV in this place, which was kind of a bummer, but Kyle had a ring, which basically meant he was a walking Blockbuster Video. He was flopped back on the bed, trying to remember the ending to the first Godzilla movie, when someone knocked on the door.
"Wally?" Kyle asked. It wasn't like there were peepholes in these doors. "You forget to tell me something about the en suite?"
The door slid back. "Hello, Kyle," Hal Jordan said.
He was wearing the uniform Kyle had put his memorial statue in, the sleek green singlet, the black pants. His hair was shot with grey at the temples. He was smiling gently. "Thought I'd welcome you to the JLA," he continued. "Maybe clear up a few misapprehensions." Hal's eyes crinkled kindly behind his mask. "You've done a great job filling in for me, really. Took on the ring like a champ. But I think we both know that's not really what you're cut out for."
Kyle's stomach churned. "I don't--understand," he said, and he knew he sounded like what Hal thought he was, just a confused kid. "You're dead."
"Just a misunderstanding," Hal said. "You can keep the ring, of course. I wouldn't ask you to give it up. But you don't need to do all this anymore. I've got it well in hand." He was still smiling. His hand was heavy on Kyle's shoulder, a comforting, firm weight.
"I swore an oath," Kyle said. "I know you all think I'm just a fuckup kid, but I have a duty. I can't just walk away from that."
"Who's asking you to?" Hal squeezed his shoulder. "I didn't say you had to go. In fact, I'm kind of hoping you'll stick around. You see, I have some other ideas about what you can do for me. For the Corps. For all of us, really." And his hand was sliding down Kyle's back, as electric through the thin material of his Lantern suit as if there was nothing there at all.
"What? Oh," Kyle said. "Oh." Like an idiot, his mouth had fallen open. Hal smirked and tapped his chin with the finger of his free hand.
"Go on then," Hal said, and Kyle swallowed. He slid to his knees. It wasn't unfamiliar, this kind of messing around. In high school locker rooms, once in art school, high as hell on borrowed weed. That was all it had ever been. This didn't feel like messing around, running his hands over the smooth front of Hal's uniform and watching it melt away under his hands, staring at the thick weight of Hal's cock as it sprang from a neatly trimmed nest of auburn hair.
"You're not backing out now, are you?"
"No, I--no," Kyle said, and bent to take Hal in his mouth.
"Good boy." Hal's calloused hand ran over his jaw, the cool weight of the ring heavy against his cheekbone. He was more considerate than any of the fumbling boys Kyle had fooled around with. He didn't push Kyle down onto his cock. He let Kyle set the pace, and didn't complain when Kyle couldn't take more than about half of him and had to jerk the rest with his hand. Kyle's spit was running down Hal's cock, damp on his balls as they swung against Kyle's chin. They were a little uneven. Hal had been the fallen paragon for so long, it was odd to remember that he had ever been just a man.
Hal had moved his hand from Kyle's cheek to his hair, but he still wasn't pushing, just running his fingers through the way Donna did in the afterglow. He couldn't be thinking about Donna now with Hal Jordan's cock leaking in his mouth. She was never this patient with him, though, loved to grab him by the hair and put him exactly where she wanted him. God, what would she think if she could see him like this? If she were to come up to the Watchtower on some Darkstars business and decide to stop by his room? Maybe that was what Hal had meant, when he'd said "all of us." Maybe Hal had smelled it on him. He'd been known as a good judge of character, and he had looked at Kyle and seen him on his knees.
Maybe it really would be everyone. Maybe Hal would finish and pull him out to the Hall. Training exercises. The broad weight of Superman, or Batman's supercilious glove--he was gagging, he realized, his throat clicking as he tried to force himself further down on Hal's cock.
"Hey," Hal said. "None of that. There'll be time." This wasn't really what he'd thought it would be like, with Hal. But then he'd only known Hal as Parallax, single-minded and desperate. This Hal was patient, almost gentle. Hard as a rock, sure. Not cruel, though. He was running his thumb over the shell of Kyle's ear. His breathing was speeding up. He yanked Kyle off of him and Kyle spluttered, confused, and then closed his eyes at the last second as Hal's release spattered his face.
"See?" Hal said, kindly. "Plenty of use for you." And then he waved his hand and walked out, his uniform as pristine as if none of it had ever happened at all, except for the fat wet streaks across Kyle's face.
Kyle stuck his tongue out to lick his lips. Hal tasted like he'd licked a battery, like engine exhaust, and then like nothing at all.