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whoa look it's me. and I bring fanfic. I'm gonna be writing a LOT of these for the next couple months in preparation for the Green Lantern movie (curse me, I've become excited for it). anything I write with Hal will be comic 'verse but everything else, like this, can be viewed as either comic 'verse or movie 'verse. you must read Sinestro with Mark Strong's voice in this, since THAT IS HOW I WROTE IT.
starlight; green lantern, abin sur/sinestro, nc-17, 1970 words. summary: sinestro is always tense, except for when he isn't.
words by ~vangogh, un-beta'd (so forgive any fuck ups)
starlight.
"I bet you’ve counted every last one of them by now."
Sinestro just barely twists his body, doesn't nod; hardly shows any sign of acknowledgment. What he does is arch an eyebrow, once the speaker is close enough to notice. "What are you playing at now, Sur?" The question sounds disrespectful, he knows. He's had a long night; his patience has been leaps and bounds beyond thin for the past few hours. The Guardians, in all their wonder, have recently placed Sinestro one-hundred percent under the watchful eye of his mentor. He's far beyond training, has been given run of an entire Sector, but then a tiny, insignificant slip-up and he's back on Oa being assigned to rookie duty until the Guardians deem him fit to return to his previous rank. For almost an entire month, the most action he's seen has been the slow, torturous turn of a populated planet in Sur's sector - 2814, a great distance away from his home world of Korugar - famously known as 'Earth'. For all its glory, all the stories he's heard, the mess of blues and greens and whites is startling, heart-stoppingly boring.
"It's a habit of yours," Sur breathes out, voice too light and too cheery and too amused to make Sinestro feel anything except more cranky, "you get bored, or irritated, and with you, those tend to go hand in hand, and you count something, whether it's grains of sand or planets in the sky. I'm not even sure you realize it, but you've been staring out into the stars for the past hour. I was just thinking aloud that you must've counted every bit of space dust in my Sector."
The younger Lantern's eyes roll, rubbing the nails of his thumb and middle finger together as he turns to face his mentor with what he imagines is impossible disdain. "The amount of free time you have on your hands makes me insatiably jealous, Sur." He might crack a smile, the Ungaran's eyes are so full of entertainment and although it is entertainment being had at the cost of his own boredom, Sinestro can't keep himself from sharing his mentor’s mood.
"It's not free time. Every member of the Corps knows how tightly wound you are. It's common knowledge, Sinestro. I've known you for over a year and not once have I seen you relax. You're always thinking, always... Always planning. You're still a mystery, even to me, and you're my closest friend." His mentor is smiling, the description of their relationship a watered-down one at best, and Sinestro is suddenly thinking, suddenly planning, such as he's apparently famous for. "Forgive me for jumping to conclusions, Sur," his voice is a purr, his shoulders begin to relax, muscles loosening as the first signs of near-innocent seduction begin to creep into his movements. "I suppose I was wrong in imagining just how closely you've been watching me these past few weeks. It has gotten rather domesticated, hasn't it?" Sinestro glances around, the Earth's singular moon the only home he's known since the Guardians decided to give him a metaphorical slap on the wrist.
"Domesticated? Sinestro, what are you -"
The Korugaran shushes him, a finger to the senior Lantern's lips. "Us. Domesticated. Don’t you agree? We find somewhere suitable to sleep, whether it's on this backwater planet’s moon or elsewhere. We rest, we wake up, I, as the much more mature Corps member, prepare us breakfast and then you're off on patrol while I stay behind and do little more than twiddle my thumbs. Then, when I'm just about ready to die of loneliness, you’re flying back 'home' to me and I'm that desperate, lonely wife rushing to greet you and then I'm in your arms and we're making love and the cycle begins anew. Forgive me for finding our current situation slightly on the domesticated side.” He pauses, thumbs the contour of Sur’s lips and waits a beat; allows the words to sink in fully. “For the record, Abin, you make a marvelous husband."
While he speaks, Sinestro can see his part-time lover's eyes change, going from bemused to aroused in a matter of moments. On Oa, their affair can't be spoken of. It's secret, Sinestro hopes, even from the Guardians themselves. "Sinestro... Don't tease me. You know I have to make my rounds in a few minutes."
Sur's voice is tinted with a hint lust, and a little something else which Sinestro decides must be frustration.
“Are you doubting my ability to swiftly and efficiently see to your needs, lover?” It’s a foolish question, but one Sinestro decides needs to be asked, if only to further get under his mentor’s skin. Sur firmly takes hold of the junior Lantern’s wrist, stops the feather-light touches to his lips; his touch is heated, passionate and eager, and yet it contains none of the violence one might typically associate with the action. Sinestro can’t keep himself from responding, breath catching in his chest in a way that betrays his usual demeanour. One of his hands is caught in Sur’s grip, and so swiftly he’s unaware of what’s happening, the Ungaran is grasping the younger man’s hip and tugging him close; closer than they already were, which brings them near enough that Sinestro knows his mentor must be able to see the slightly-darkened hues of his cheeks, must know he’s flushed from excitement and how desperately he wants this to continue. “You know how talented I am when it comes to working under pressure,” Sinestro rasps against Sur’s mouth, their lips barely staying apart for a moment longer before they’re doing what Sinestro is certain would look like devouring each other. The kiss is hard and hot and Sinestro isn’t aware of when he regained freedom to move both of his hands, but he’s touching his mentor wherever and however he can, falling against him wantonly, begging for more when either of them needed to come up for air.
Somehow the kiss turns into Sinestro on his knees, his lips wrapped tightly around Sur’s prick, sucking with a determination he knows always brings the older man to a roaring climax in mere minutes. Black-nailed fingers squeeze the base of Sur’s erection, stroking languidly as Sinestro allows his tongue to do a majority of the work. Yellow eyes flick upward toward his mentor, naked lust visible in them and Sur is panting and cursing and thrusting forward into the younger man’s mouth, all but crying for more, making promises of everything he’ll do to make Sinestro scream after he finishes his routine patrols.
Sinestro smirks, the tip of Sur’s cock just barely disappearing into his mouth, tonguing lazily along the overly-accentuated underside of the head and as he reaches down, palming at his own erection through the fabric of his Lantern uniform, that’s all his mentor can handle; he’s moaning Sinestro’s name at the top of his lungs as he comes messily into the Korugaran’s open mouth. Some of it oozes across Sinestro’s lips, a ribbon lands on his left cheek, but most of it winds up coating his near-black tongue and as he rests back on his heels, smirk still firm in place as he strokes his come-painted tongue along his upper lip, gathering what landing around his mouth instead of inside it, Sinestro knows that the man staring down at him is wrapped around his finger in the way only a hopelessly dedicated husband ever should be.
“You’ll be the death of me, you know,” Sur jokes, dipping his thumb into Sinestro’s mouth while his index and middle finger slide underneath the Korugaran’s chin, “I’m going to have to assign you to someone else after this. I don’t think I can handle being a part of your punishment for much longer. My patrols keep on getting shorter and shorter every time we do this before I’m meant to leave.” Sinestro begins to chuckle, but the older man is forcing him to tilt his head back and he can’t help but groan as he feels the Ungaran’s come begin to slide into his throat and he’s swallowing out of reflex, yellow eyes full of fire and want as he, just this once, allows another living being to coerce him into doing something. He trusts Sur; maybe even loves him, although he doesn’t yet have the life experience to know for sure. Sur smiles down at him before helping him back to his feet, wiping whatever remains of his mess were left abandoned on Sinestro’s face where his tongue couldn’t quite reach.
There’s a kiss, and it’s not like before; now it’s deep, slow and affectionate, and Sinestro would damn anyone if they knew of how he placed his arms around Sur’s neck, wrists overlapping just behind the Ungaran’s head as they relearned each other’s taste for what felt like the thousandth time. “I have to go,” Sur whispers, voice soft and bemused, and Sinestro does his best not to pout, “but, I’ll be back before you know it. Head onto the surface and find something for us to eat, will you? I’m going to be starving when I get back.”
Sinestro’s arms cross as Sur pulls away, re-creating his uniform after Sinestro had forced him to take it off for the - well, for the day’s previous activities. “And you tried to tell me we weren’t becoming domesticated, Abin. I think,” he smiles, settling down onto the ground to have at least a moment’s relaxation after his lover leaves on duty, “that was all a ploy to force me into revealing my true feelings for you, you know. You wanted me to explain to you why I’ve been feeling like - like we’re practically married.” Sur grins at him and Sinestro wants nothing more to swat the look off of his mentor’s face, but there’s something oddly endearing about it and Sinestro is sure to hide whatever smile is trying to make its way onto his lips. The Ungaran’s mouth opens, preparing to speak, but Sinestro cuts him off, a hand flying into the air, “Ah-ah. Just go. We can talk after you’ve finished work. I’ll not have the Guardians punish me further for causing you to neglect your oh-so important duty.” Sur just huffs at him, leaning down for a final kiss before flying upward, about to head off before turning around to add one more necessary comment.
“Why don’t you play one of your counting games to pass the time?”
Sinestro’s brow furrowed, “What am I meant to be counting, then? The craters in this pitiful orb?” His voice was laced with sarcasm, returning to the mood he’d been in before the entire domesticated debate had started.
“No,” Sur said, his lips upturned in a devilish smile, “count how many times you can bring yourself to the brink of orgasm; without accidentally stumbling off, of course; until I get back.”
It wasn’t a suggestion; definitely wasn’t a question. Sinestro’s mouth fell open as his mentor flew into the blackness of space and left him sitting there in shock.
The Guardians would definitely need to rethink their form of punishments in the future, because Sinestro decided in that moment that he was more than fine with being locked in Abin Sur’s arms for the next... For the rest of his life wouldn’t be all that bad.
Perhaps marriage wasn’t such a subject to joke about after all.
END
starlight; green lantern, abin sur/sinestro, nc-17, 1970 words. summary: sinestro is always tense, except for when he isn't.
words by ~vangogh, un-beta'd (so forgive any fuck ups)
starlight.
"I bet you’ve counted every last one of them by now."
Sinestro just barely twists his body, doesn't nod; hardly shows any sign of acknowledgment. What he does is arch an eyebrow, once the speaker is close enough to notice. "What are you playing at now, Sur?" The question sounds disrespectful, he knows. He's had a long night; his patience has been leaps and bounds beyond thin for the past few hours. The Guardians, in all their wonder, have recently placed Sinestro one-hundred percent under the watchful eye of his mentor. He's far beyond training, has been given run of an entire Sector, but then a tiny, insignificant slip-up and he's back on Oa being assigned to rookie duty until the Guardians deem him fit to return to his previous rank. For almost an entire month, the most action he's seen has been the slow, torturous turn of a populated planet in Sur's sector - 2814, a great distance away from his home world of Korugar - famously known as 'Earth'. For all its glory, all the stories he's heard, the mess of blues and greens and whites is startling, heart-stoppingly boring.
"It's a habit of yours," Sur breathes out, voice too light and too cheery and too amused to make Sinestro feel anything except more cranky, "you get bored, or irritated, and with you, those tend to go hand in hand, and you count something, whether it's grains of sand or planets in the sky. I'm not even sure you realize it, but you've been staring out into the stars for the past hour. I was just thinking aloud that you must've counted every bit of space dust in my Sector."
The younger Lantern's eyes roll, rubbing the nails of his thumb and middle finger together as he turns to face his mentor with what he imagines is impossible disdain. "The amount of free time you have on your hands makes me insatiably jealous, Sur." He might crack a smile, the Ungaran's eyes are so full of entertainment and although it is entertainment being had at the cost of his own boredom, Sinestro can't keep himself from sharing his mentor’s mood.
"It's not free time. Every member of the Corps knows how tightly wound you are. It's common knowledge, Sinestro. I've known you for over a year and not once have I seen you relax. You're always thinking, always... Always planning. You're still a mystery, even to me, and you're my closest friend." His mentor is smiling, the description of their relationship a watered-down one at best, and Sinestro is suddenly thinking, suddenly planning, such as he's apparently famous for. "Forgive me for jumping to conclusions, Sur," his voice is a purr, his shoulders begin to relax, muscles loosening as the first signs of near-innocent seduction begin to creep into his movements. "I suppose I was wrong in imagining just how closely you've been watching me these past few weeks. It has gotten rather domesticated, hasn't it?" Sinestro glances around, the Earth's singular moon the only home he's known since the Guardians decided to give him a metaphorical slap on the wrist.
"Domesticated? Sinestro, what are you -"
The Korugaran shushes him, a finger to the senior Lantern's lips. "Us. Domesticated. Don’t you agree? We find somewhere suitable to sleep, whether it's on this backwater planet’s moon or elsewhere. We rest, we wake up, I, as the much more mature Corps member, prepare us breakfast and then you're off on patrol while I stay behind and do little more than twiddle my thumbs. Then, when I'm just about ready to die of loneliness, you’re flying back 'home' to me and I'm that desperate, lonely wife rushing to greet you and then I'm in your arms and we're making love and the cycle begins anew. Forgive me for finding our current situation slightly on the domesticated side.” He pauses, thumbs the contour of Sur’s lips and waits a beat; allows the words to sink in fully. “For the record, Abin, you make a marvelous husband."
While he speaks, Sinestro can see his part-time lover's eyes change, going from bemused to aroused in a matter of moments. On Oa, their affair can't be spoken of. It's secret, Sinestro hopes, even from the Guardians themselves. "Sinestro... Don't tease me. You know I have to make my rounds in a few minutes."
Sur's voice is tinted with a hint lust, and a little something else which Sinestro decides must be frustration.
“Are you doubting my ability to swiftly and efficiently see to your needs, lover?” It’s a foolish question, but one Sinestro decides needs to be asked, if only to further get under his mentor’s skin. Sur firmly takes hold of the junior Lantern’s wrist, stops the feather-light touches to his lips; his touch is heated, passionate and eager, and yet it contains none of the violence one might typically associate with the action. Sinestro can’t keep himself from responding, breath catching in his chest in a way that betrays his usual demeanour. One of his hands is caught in Sur’s grip, and so swiftly he’s unaware of what’s happening, the Ungaran is grasping the younger man’s hip and tugging him close; closer than they already were, which brings them near enough that Sinestro knows his mentor must be able to see the slightly-darkened hues of his cheeks, must know he’s flushed from excitement and how desperately he wants this to continue. “You know how talented I am when it comes to working under pressure,” Sinestro rasps against Sur’s mouth, their lips barely staying apart for a moment longer before they’re doing what Sinestro is certain would look like devouring each other. The kiss is hard and hot and Sinestro isn’t aware of when he regained freedom to move both of his hands, but he’s touching his mentor wherever and however he can, falling against him wantonly, begging for more when either of them needed to come up for air.
Somehow the kiss turns into Sinestro on his knees, his lips wrapped tightly around Sur’s prick, sucking with a determination he knows always brings the older man to a roaring climax in mere minutes. Black-nailed fingers squeeze the base of Sur’s erection, stroking languidly as Sinestro allows his tongue to do a majority of the work. Yellow eyes flick upward toward his mentor, naked lust visible in them and Sur is panting and cursing and thrusting forward into the younger man’s mouth, all but crying for more, making promises of everything he’ll do to make Sinestro scream after he finishes his routine patrols.
Sinestro smirks, the tip of Sur’s cock just barely disappearing into his mouth, tonguing lazily along the overly-accentuated underside of the head and as he reaches down, palming at his own erection through the fabric of his Lantern uniform, that’s all his mentor can handle; he’s moaning Sinestro’s name at the top of his lungs as he comes messily into the Korugaran’s open mouth. Some of it oozes across Sinestro’s lips, a ribbon lands on his left cheek, but most of it winds up coating his near-black tongue and as he rests back on his heels, smirk still firm in place as he strokes his come-painted tongue along his upper lip, gathering what landing around his mouth instead of inside it, Sinestro knows that the man staring down at him is wrapped around his finger in the way only a hopelessly dedicated husband ever should be.
“You’ll be the death of me, you know,” Sur jokes, dipping his thumb into Sinestro’s mouth while his index and middle finger slide underneath the Korugaran’s chin, “I’m going to have to assign you to someone else after this. I don’t think I can handle being a part of your punishment for much longer. My patrols keep on getting shorter and shorter every time we do this before I’m meant to leave.” Sinestro begins to chuckle, but the older man is forcing him to tilt his head back and he can’t help but groan as he feels the Ungaran’s come begin to slide into his throat and he’s swallowing out of reflex, yellow eyes full of fire and want as he, just this once, allows another living being to coerce him into doing something. He trusts Sur; maybe even loves him, although he doesn’t yet have the life experience to know for sure. Sur smiles down at him before helping him back to his feet, wiping whatever remains of his mess were left abandoned on Sinestro’s face where his tongue couldn’t quite reach.
There’s a kiss, and it’s not like before; now it’s deep, slow and affectionate, and Sinestro would damn anyone if they knew of how he placed his arms around Sur’s neck, wrists overlapping just behind the Ungaran’s head as they relearned each other’s taste for what felt like the thousandth time. “I have to go,” Sur whispers, voice soft and bemused, and Sinestro does his best not to pout, “but, I’ll be back before you know it. Head onto the surface and find something for us to eat, will you? I’m going to be starving when I get back.”
Sinestro’s arms cross as Sur pulls away, re-creating his uniform after Sinestro had forced him to take it off for the - well, for the day’s previous activities. “And you tried to tell me we weren’t becoming domesticated, Abin. I think,” he smiles, settling down onto the ground to have at least a moment’s relaxation after his lover leaves on duty, “that was all a ploy to force me into revealing my true feelings for you, you know. You wanted me to explain to you why I’ve been feeling like - like we’re practically married.” Sur grins at him and Sinestro wants nothing more to swat the look off of his mentor’s face, but there’s something oddly endearing about it and Sinestro is sure to hide whatever smile is trying to make its way onto his lips. The Ungaran’s mouth opens, preparing to speak, but Sinestro cuts him off, a hand flying into the air, “Ah-ah. Just go. We can talk after you’ve finished work. I’ll not have the Guardians punish me further for causing you to neglect your oh-so important duty.” Sur just huffs at him, leaning down for a final kiss before flying upward, about to head off before turning around to add one more necessary comment.
“Why don’t you play one of your counting games to pass the time?”
Sinestro’s brow furrowed, “What am I meant to be counting, then? The craters in this pitiful orb?” His voice was laced with sarcasm, returning to the mood he’d been in before the entire domesticated debate had started.
“No,” Sur said, his lips upturned in a devilish smile, “count how many times you can bring yourself to the brink of orgasm; without accidentally stumbling off, of course; until I get back.”
It wasn’t a suggestion; definitely wasn’t a question. Sinestro’s mouth fell open as his mentor flew into the blackness of space and left him sitting there in shock.
The Guardians would definitely need to rethink their form of punishments in the future, because Sinestro decided in that moment that he was more than fine with being locked in Abin Sur’s arms for the next... For the rest of his life wouldn’t be all that bad.
Perhaps marriage wasn’t such a subject to joke about after all.
END