Work Text:
It was supposed to be an inside thought. Something that Guy had been pondering for a while, but not meant to be said out loud. Just a light-hearted kinky fantasy. He could've played it cool if he hadn't... well, finished in that moment.
Coming by the mention of getting his dick stepped on, Christ, that should be against his vows.
Michael seemed to pick up on his anxiety afterwards, so there was was no escaping this. Guy knew he was utterly fucked.
Michael couldn't leave anything unsolved. He liked closure, patterns, the reason behind things. Discovering a kink deeply buried in Guy's psyche was no different than resolving a mathematical equation to him.
Not even Guy himself knew where all of this came from. He wouldn't appreciate anyone stepping on his manhood like that, of course. He liked the humiliation aspect of it. Or something. He liked the leather. He had been on pretty interesting trips to various bars across his life, both in and out of Earth. He was no stranger to kink. Still, this was Michael. He found himself caring way too much about what he thought of all this.
Guy was on edge the entire week. He tried to act normal around his teammates, but he always drifted towards the thought of Michael psychoanalyzing his every move when he wasn't paying attention.
They still exchanged glances and soft touches when they weren't working. Michael still talked to him in that tone he didn't use for anyone else. Things were fine.
Hell, they still fucked a second time that week, and Michael didn't bring his weird comment up... at first. His head barely had time to hit the pillow when Michael addressed the elephant in the room.
"What did you say the other night?"
He doesn't sound accusatory, just curious. He's looking at the ceiling, playing with some trinket he found in Guy's nightstand.
"I was just thinking out loud," Guy says lamely, fiddling with the covers. Despite usually being quite confident in his own skin, he feels the need to hide now. Jesus.
"I didn't ask that," Michael says. "I want to make sure I heard you right."
"I think you heard me just right, asshole," Guy says. "Just say you want me to repeat it."
"Alright. I want you to repeat it," Michael says without missing a beat. He leaves the trinket on the nightstand and gives the man his full attention.
Michael waits patiently as Guy bites the inside of his cheek, clearly hesitant.
"I said that I wanted you to step on my dick," Guy says through gritted teeth, blushing furiously.
"You said something else," Michael tells him.
"Like hell I did," Guy snaps, rolling over so he doesn't have to keep going with this conversation.
"Guy, come on," Michael says, tone softer, getting a hold of his bicep. The man grunts against the pillow as a response. "I'm serious."
"I also said that I wanted you to jerk me off with your boot," Guy mutters with difficulty.
Michael hums in acknowledgement, caressing his arm.
"And you'd really want me to do that?" Michael asks.
Guy nods pathetically.
"What exactly do you like about it?" he insists. This fucker, Guy thinks.
"Oh, we are not having this conversation," Guy says, turning around to glare at him. "If you wanna make fun of me, do it. I don't need you looking at me under a microscope like I'm some... some freak of nature."
"Don't put words into my mouth," Michael says with a frown.
Guy rolls over again. He's such a child, he knows, but he can't do this right now.
"I'm asking because I want to understand," Michael elaborates, not giving up just yet.
Guy seems to be thinking about it.
"Fine," Guy crosses his arms. "And what exactly do you get from all of this?"
"I get to understand a part of you," Michael says like it's obvious. "And... it'd be interesting to see you like that."
"Like what? Humping your leg like a dog?" he asks, not entirely serious.
The man just looks at him, which tells him everything he needs to know. Michael does want to see him humping his leg like a dog. He finds himself grinning.
Michael's mouth curls into a small smile. "Tell me tomorrow."
Guy spends the morning writing down the things he'd like to do or finds himself drawn to, as Michael had requested. He mentally pats himself on the back for not getting a boner while doing it.
When he runs out of things, he starts doodling at the bottom of the page. He's halfway through drawing something vulgar when a shadow looms over him.
"My work boots?" Michael asks him, having read over the page before Guy could open his mouth. "Not just any kind?"
As he'd pointed out, the fifth item Guy had written down read MICHAEL'S WORK BOOTS.
Guy shrugs, self-conscious. He had fantasized about those boots once or twice.
He knew Michael was careful with his gear, with his image. And the man liked a theme. Ridiculous T-bullshit aside, Guy felt drawn to the idea of being under Mr. Terrific's boot specifically. It'd feel like being owned by the hero himself, not just Michael. Being... branded.
God, he was so sick in the head.
They're making out after a successful day at work when Guy decides to go all in. If Michael wants to know, he'll show him.
He drops to his knees, looking at Michael intently—and mentally thanking the interior designer who added plush carpeted floors to their rooms. His knees are going to be sore later.
"We're doing this now?" he asks, eyes curious.
"If you..." Guy draws out the last word, a bit unsure. He holds Michael's hips, seeking his warmth more than anything.
"Oh, I do."
Michael's hand caresses his cheek and his thumb slowly slides towards Guy's mouth.
"You must be really horny if you're making this much eye contact," Guy notes.
"You expect that list not to make me horny?"
He approaches his bed walking backwards, and beckons him closer—like a dog. When the man makes a move to stand up, Michael clicks his tongue disapprovingly.
"What is it that your list said, Guy?" Michael asks him.
"That—that I wanted to be on my knees," he says shakily. Among other things.
"And what were you doing?" he asks.
"Standing up..." Guy says.
Michael stares at him as the man assimilates his mistake with a frown. "Come here."
Guy does. He crawls slowly towards Michael as the man sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread.
"Keep your hands on your thighs," he tells him, and the man obeys. "Tell me what's on your mind. You wrote down a few things."
Guy sputters. "Being on my knees makes me feel... inferior and I like it, if it's like this."
If it's with you, he doesn't say.
Michael tilts his head. His expression shifts, and Guy suddenly feels a bit intimidated by him, in the best way. The wonders this man can do with just a slight raise of his eyebrows.
"Did you want me to be dominant?" Michael asks, then.
Even if he isn't aiming to be sensual but logical, as usual, Michael's bluntness makes the Lantern hot under the collar.
"Yes." Guy looks down, his whole face red.
"You also had my boots in mind," Michael states.
Silence. "Answer me, Guy."
"Yeah."
"You want me to step on your dick, you said. Is that it?" he asks, his nonchalance only spurring him on further.
"Yeah..." Guy says.
Oh, Michael is enjoying this. Seeing the man reduced to single word answers is really doing it for him.
"Tell me," he caresses Guy's face.
"I want you to..." Guy swallows. "To step on it, and then keep your boot there, so I can..."
He goes silent so Michael grabs his chin and forces Guy to look at him. "So you can what?"
"Unh, so I can mount it—"
"And what else?" Michael asks, letting go of his face. His right foot urges the man's thighs apart, the sole of the boot briefly brushing his crotch.
"Want to come in my pants," Guy groans at the contact, teeth grinding. "Want you to mock me when I do, fuck. Want you to—to be mean. Just a little bit."
That's interesting. He applies more pressure with his boot, just to see how much Guy can take. "I can do that."
"Mike, I—" Guy gasps.
"Am I missing something, Guy?"
"No," he says.
"Do you want this?"
Guy nods. "Yes. Yeah."
"Then there's nothing else to talk about."
Guy swallows, spreads his legs wider, lets Michael do whatever he wants. Instead of stepping on him properly, Michael's boot rubs circles around his clothed cock, testing the waters—or maybe mocking him. Guy's hips buck at the smallest brush of the sole. Michael smiles at his eagerness.
"And Guy," he says, without stopping his motions.
Guy looks up, already sweating. How cute.
"I'm doing this because you asked me to. You take it or you back off, anytime. It's your call," he tells him, tone low.
"Yeah," Guy says dumbly, going impossibly redder. His mouth feels full of cotton, he can't think. "Yeah, I want it—"
Michael applies more pressure, properly stepping on him now.
Guy lets out a half chocked moan, his back going stiff. He can't get enough friction through his shitty uniform and that's what makes him appreciate anything that Michael may give him, like some kind of stray.
Michael decides to press the heel of the boot on his crotch, making him jump. He rubs him hard, and Guy can't get enough.
"Fu-unnh," he gasps, as if the air had been punched out of him. "Fuck. Fuck."
"That's right," Michael says.
Guy ducks his head, moaning openly, sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead. He presses his eyes shut, jaw going slack, and Michael shifts slightly on the bed, digging his boot further. Guy's voice breaks and his hips roll desperately, chasing the stimulation.
Michael hums at the sight. Then, with mild disinterest, he says, "Take off your jacket."
Michael observes with amusement as Guy's breathing comes out ragged and hot while he does so. He moves his boot away while Guy works on the garment. The heavy leather falls to the ground and Michael realizes how extreme Guy's reaction is to this entire situation. He's soaked, thick arms and collarbones glistening with sweat. His shirt looks slightly tighter in this position. Michael can't complain about the view.
When his hands are free, Guy shakily grabs Michael's right ankle, almost begging for the abuse to his crotch to come back. The other man looks at him for a few seconds, then lets out a sound akin to a laugh.
The boot returns to massage his clothed dick, and Guy exhales. Almost shyly, he rolls his hips as Michael maintains a hard, constant stimulation against him. He bites his lip when a loud whimper attempts to escape his mouth, and the man above him clicks his tongue once more.
"Don't hide," Michael says.
Guy nods, muttering breathy apologies, and Michael thinks about fulfilling some other request from the list.
In a calculated movement, he pulls his boot away, adjusts the position and swings it forward, delivering a short but intense kick to Guy's groin.
Guy yelps and the pain spreads across his body in a warm, sharp wave. He ducks his head, feeling himself shaking. He grabs at Michael's leg desperately.
In other circumstances, he'd complain about the pain, but Guy realizes, with mild horror, that he doesn't want anything other than this. As ridiculous at it sounds.
He wants Michael to kick him on the balls, plain and simple. The dirty old trick in fights—he wants that, and it's so disgusting and so filthy it makes him even harder.
He wants him to kick him one, two, three times. He'll even spread his legs so he can get a better angle despite his body instinctively trying to back off. And then, he wants Michael to step on his chest, forcing him on his back so he can't hide how painfully hard he is after the abuse to his privates. He wants Michael to mock him until he comes in his pants like a teenager.
He's so fucking sick in the head, my god.
"What're you thinking about?" Michael asks, as if reading his mind. "Didn't tell you to stop moving."
Guy makes an apologetic pitiful sound, clinging to Michael's leg and ankle as he continues humping the man's boot.
"Just," Guy gasps, a pained sound escaping his mouth. "M'sorry. This is filthy."
Michael looks slightly surprised at this, and his eyes soften.
"Well, you don't know where this boot has been," he says. "So we're good. Keep going."
That's the highest praise he's going to get from Michael, so Guy nods, eyes shut. He gasps against Michael's pant leg without shame now, and mounts his boot with abandon. Michael holds Guy's head on his thigh, stroking his sweaty hair.
"Tell me when you get close," Michael tells him. "Because I will not let you finish right away. You're going to beg."
"Yah. Yeah." Guy gasps.
Michael tilts his head. He observes Guy's expressions, his moans, the sweat on his brow, the spit drying at the corners of his mouth, the way his eyes seem unfocused when he momentarily opens them. Good lord. He's a mess, and he understands the appeal for this kind of thing now.
He slides his left foot under Guy while the right slides up so he can stimulate all of him, so he can overwhelm him with the sensation.
Guy has gotten some leverage with the added support under him. Michael observes how his eyelids flutter, and as he had expected,
"Mike. 'm close. 'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," Michael says sternly. He supposes he should start being mean to Guy now, but it baffles him how he's gotten this man to apologize for being close.
He removes any kind of stimulation from him and grabs his face.
"Beg me to let you come."
"Please. Pl-please, Mike. Let me—let me come. Terrific. Please. I've been good."
"Have you," Michael raises an eyebrow slowly.
"Yesss," Guy says. "Please. Can I? Please. Terrific. M— Terrific."
Michael stares at him, and Guy's lip quivers. Jesus Christ. The man's eyes are glassy and his pupils are so dilated Michael can almost see his own reflection in them.
He pushes Guy's face away, and steps on him as hard as he can, digging his heel into him. He hears Guy's sharp intake of breath, and a series of ah ah's from him as he seems to be reaching his limit, his hips desperately chasing his climax. Guy keeps his face hidden between Michael's thigh and his groin, his grip on his leg almost painful.
"Mike. MikeMikeMike. 'm gonna—" he groans, jaw clenched.
"Yeah?" Michael says.
"Yeah," Guy confirms. He inhales sharply, his breath stuttering. He sounds like he's about to cry.
"You're gonna ruin your pants, Guy?" Michael asks. "You know these uniforms aren't cheap to customize."
Guy moans. His open mouth is drooling all over the man's leg, and Michael finds himself immensely attracted to it.
"What will you tell Lord, Guy?" he presses. "Big, brave Guy Gardner needs a uniform restock because he couldn't stop himself from creaming his pants like an unruly teenager?"
"I'm, hn..."
"You're so pathetic right now, you know that?"
Guy nods.
"Make a mess of yourself, Guy," Michael says, pulling his hair slightly.
Guy whines onto the leather of his uniform, letting out incoherent sounds and ragged gasps.
"You filthy animal. Come on."
And finally, finally—he lets out such a pained whine that it doesn't even sound like him at all. He leans forward, bringing the boot closer to his cock as the waves of his orgasm wash through him. Eventually, the movement of his hips come to a halt and he lets out a loud, shaky sigh.
Guy pulls himself away. He initially tries to close his legs, shame starting to bleed into his expression, but Michael stops him by setting a foot between his knees.
"Stay there," he says, and Guy looks up. His face is ruined. There is fresh spit on the corners of his mouth, and he is crying.
Michael goes to hold his face gently and gives him a peck on his nose. He doesn't ask the man to stand up yet, just lets him rest his head on his lap while he pets his hair.
Despite how exhausted he must be feeling, Guy can't keep his mouth shut for long, his tone a bit uncertain. "Mike, I'm..."
"Yeah?"
Guy clears his throat. "Thanks. For doing that."
"Anytime."
"You, umm. You want...?"
"I'm okay."
"Alright."
A pause. Guy is still breathing hard.
"We didn't get to explore the entire list." Michael observes.
"You saying I got a short fuse?" Guy mumbles.
"Hmm. I didn't say that," Michael says. "But I can, if that'd turn you on. You did ask me to be a bit mean earlier."
Guy chuckles. Michael can't help but find this man a bit adorable.
He can't wait to go over the list again.