I Dreamt of the Plague That Night
folder
DC Verse Comics › Green Lantern
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,317
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Category:
DC Verse Comics › Green Lantern
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,317
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I don't own Green Lantern and its characters nor do I make any money from this.
Blue and Purple
[WIP - Don't expect a lot of it to be finished :( ]
He was startled when he first saw him, lips once pink now turned a faint blue, as did his skin. Eyes lifeless, but still full of something he didn't know. Even under him, smile painted across his face and wrists bound by his emerald light, he did not know what this man was.
He was dead, he knew that much. He was dead and he still laughed and he still struggled. Hal avoided looking at his left arm, something he knew he did to him when he was not entirely sane.
"Well, Jordan?" He managed to stay in between his writhing, "are you taking a good look?"
Hal didn't reply, he simply flipped him over and dug his knee into his back, bringing his wrists behind him and tied him up with more emerald binds. He had him here now, that dastardly man who was still only a ploy in the grander scheme of things, but someone who deserved justice just the same.
He was cold to the touch. Obviously, Hal thought, seeing as this man was dead and all. He had knocked the wind out of him before, getting him into this position in the first place, and he saw what would be steel-blue saliva sputter out of his mouth. He tried not to think about it, but it was always in the back of his mind.
"Jordan," he said again, so coy and arrogant, it made him want to push his face into the ground, "Oh, Jordan, always turning a blind eye to this sort of thing."
It made him twitch, and he almost gave in and replied, but he focused on securing him. What he would do after with him was still left in the air. They were alone, in a cemetery that Black Hand must have called home. He was hovering over an unmarked grave when he first spotted him, long cape covering his slender figure.
"Jordan," it almost sounded like whining. "Are you just going to sit on me?" Hal swallowed hard, somewhat intrigued by how...seductive he had just sounded. As if he was capable of that. His struggling had died down a bit enough for Hal to actually act upon his thoughts; he shoved his face down into the dirt unprompted with an angry growl. "I always knew you were like this," he laughed heartily, still, of course, laced with his insanity. "You were always like this!"
It wasn't Hal who had rendered his hand to coal in a sick kind of joke, it just wasn't him. But it was him who was pushing his face into the ground just to hear his groans or how he would shuffle his narrow hips. He told himself that he deserved it, to be treated, frankly, like the dirt under him.
The man needed to be punished, but this man was not intimidated by blinding yellow fear. "You're getting a little red," Black Hand choked, barely audible.
"Shut up," Hal growled.
"A little orange, too," he smirked, "you're thinking you own me right now, don't you?"
"I said shut your mouth," he pushed his face in deeper.
"Oh, Jordan, I always knew you were like this."
He was startled when he first saw him, lips once pink now turned a faint blue, as did his skin. Eyes lifeless, but still full of something he didn't know. Even under him, smile painted across his face and wrists bound by his emerald light, he did not know what this man was.
He was dead, he knew that much. He was dead and he still laughed and he still struggled. Hal avoided looking at his left arm, something he knew he did to him when he was not entirely sane.
"Well, Jordan?" He managed to stay in between his writhing, "are you taking a good look?"
Hal didn't reply, he simply flipped him over and dug his knee into his back, bringing his wrists behind him and tied him up with more emerald binds. He had him here now, that dastardly man who was still only a ploy in the grander scheme of things, but someone who deserved justice just the same.
He was cold to the touch. Obviously, Hal thought, seeing as this man was dead and all. He had knocked the wind out of him before, getting him into this position in the first place, and he saw what would be steel-blue saliva sputter out of his mouth. He tried not to think about it, but it was always in the back of his mind.
"Jordan," he said again, so coy and arrogant, it made him want to push his face into the ground, "Oh, Jordan, always turning a blind eye to this sort of thing."
It made him twitch, and he almost gave in and replied, but he focused on securing him. What he would do after with him was still left in the air. They were alone, in a cemetery that Black Hand must have called home. He was hovering over an unmarked grave when he first spotted him, long cape covering his slender figure.
"Jordan," it almost sounded like whining. "Are you just going to sit on me?" Hal swallowed hard, somewhat intrigued by how...seductive he had just sounded. As if he was capable of that. His struggling had died down a bit enough for Hal to actually act upon his thoughts; he shoved his face down into the dirt unprompted with an angry growl. "I always knew you were like this," he laughed heartily, still, of course, laced with his insanity. "You were always like this!"
It wasn't Hal who had rendered his hand to coal in a sick kind of joke, it just wasn't him. But it was him who was pushing his face into the ground just to hear his groans or how he would shuffle his narrow hips. He told himself that he deserved it, to be treated, frankly, like the dirt under him.
The man needed to be punished, but this man was not intimidated by blinding yellow fear. "You're getting a little red," Black Hand choked, barely audible.
"Shut up," Hal growled.
"A little orange, too," he smirked, "you're thinking you own me right now, don't you?"
"I said shut your mouth," he pushed his face in deeper.
"Oh, Jordan, I always knew you were like this."