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New York is beautiful when it snows.
Kyle has known this since his first winter in the city, all those years ago. He was fascinated by it, then. It wasn’t his first time seeing snow; California got some during the winter, even if it never stuck much on the ground, but nothing like New York. That first winter had been tough—monitor duty as a Christmas Eve gift, thanks, Roy—but he’d made the best of it. Fell in love with the city, around that time. Fell in love with Donna, too, but none of that is the point.
The point is this: it’s snowing, and Hal Jordan is sitting across from him in a booth at Radu’s, wearing a thick, baby-blue cable knit sweater and grinning at him over a cup of coffee. It’s the twenty-third, the last day the coffee shop will be open before Radu takes a break for the holidays. He used to stay open, back when Kyle met him—joked that he might as well spend Christmas doing what he loved. Kyle’s not sure when that changed.
There are red and green lights strung up everywhere, including framing the window they’re sitting by. Outside, flurries of snow have been dotting the air all night, and families shuffle by in big coats and beanies, rushing to get out of the cold. Not much moves slow in the city. Not much moves slow in Kyle’s life at all, really, between Lantern work and art deadlines. He hasn’t gotten a moment like this in a while—a moment where he can take his time to observe the brushstrokes of the world. Hal’s dark, thick eyebrows, and how the space in between them wrinkles when he laughs. The logo Kyle designed, all those years ago, slightly faded on the off-white coffee mug Hal drinks from. How his fingers curl under the handle, his hands bigger and darker than Kyle’s, and calloused in a different way.
Kyle looks away and takes a bite of his cinnamon muffin, hoping the heat rising to his face can be explained away by the red Christmas lights. For a while, they sit quietly, Little Drummer Boy playing on the staticky radio. A toddler slips and falls into a pile of snow, and Hal and Kyle laugh at the same time. When Kyle glances back at him, there’s coffee on Hal’s upper lip, and he can’t think about anything but kissing it off.
“Here,” he says hastily, a desperate attempt at distracting himself. He reaches under the table to grab the gift bag he brought. It’s ugly, a bootleg Green Lantern design he found at a ninety-nine cent store and couldn’t leave behind. He pushes it across the table, mindful of Hal’s mug. “For you.”
Hal’s eyes go wide, and he grins, looking between Kyle and the bag. “Oh, shit,” he says, tugging the gift bag down onto the booth beside him. “Thanks. I, uh. Did not think to get you anything.”
“That’s fine,” Kyle says, shifting in his seat. “You can open it.”
Hal nods. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the gift—a medium-small painting of the two of them in costume, referenced from a photo they had taken a few months back. Hal stares at it in silence, eyes darting over the details, and Kyle curls his hands in his lap while he waits for a reaction. He’s painted for Hal—for plenty of the other Lanterns—before, but this feels different. More intimate. Maybe it’s just that this is the first time he’s done so knowing what he knows now: he’s in love with Hal.
He’s not entirely sure when it started. He’s known the man is attractive since the beginning, but when that turned into love is hard to say. All he knows is that Hal has managed to take up an embarrassing amount of space in Kyle’s heart, mind, and sketchbooks. He could probably sketch the lines of his jaw or the curve of his nose with his eyes closed. He dreams about the small details that make Hal up: the dip of his Cupid’s bow, the faint grays creeping into his hairline, the crows’ feet wrinkles that crease darker when he smiles.
“Kyle,” Hal says, slow and a little breathless. His eyes stay fixed on the canvas, thumb tracing the edge. “Jesus, kid, I forget how talented you are.”
Kyle’s heart skips a beat every time Hal calls him that: kid. It’s a little humiliating, actually, but he can’t help it. He wants to sit in Hal’s lap and wrap his thighs around his hips and hear him groan Fuck, kid into his mouth when he grinds into him, wants to tug him into a kiss and listen to him say Kid, we shouldn’t, even though neither of them are going to stop, wants to feel Hal slide into him and gasp at how tight he is—
Okay. Okay.
“Thanks,” Kyle manages. He takes a sip of his coffee to ground himself and then sets it back on the table a little too loudly. “You, uh. I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it,” Hal says, his voice lilting in awe. “Thank you.”
Because Kyle cannot catch a break, even for Christmas, it’s at this moment that Radu decides to approach their booth, grinning cheerfully. He’s wearing a Santa hat to keep his bald head warm. Hal is quick to push the painting under the table, though that’s really not necessary: “It’s fine, Hal. He knows.”
“Oh,” Hal says, visibly relaxing, and then, “Wait, what?”
Radu clasps his hands together, thrumming with excitement. He’s been dying to meet Hal ever since Kyle accidentally let his little crush slip—back when it could be considered little. “Kyle wasn’t so good at keeping secret identities secret in the beginning.”
Kyle groans. Hal laughs, brushing his hair away from his face. He has no right to look this handsome while conspiring with Kyle’s ex-landlord against him, Kyle thinks. “That so?”
“He figured you out on his own,” Kyle defends, pressing his cheek into his palm. He realizes only after he says it that this makes it worse—makes it obvious that Kyle has blabbed enough about Hal for Radu to even make that guess.
Hal doesn’t seem to piece this together, thankfully. “Let’s hope the rest of the city doesn’t have your deduction skills,” he teases, grinning at Radu as he kicks Kyle’s ankle under the table. Kyle kicks back harder. Hal picks the painting back up and tilts it towards Radu. “Look at this.”
“Kyle showed me on the phone,” Radu says, dipping his head down to take a closer look. “Nicer in person. You know, Kyle, I thought it would be nice to get a mural in here…”
“Nope,” Kyle says hastily, scrambling to stand up. “Maybe next time, Radu. Hal and I are gonna head out. Hey, mind watching the painting for a couple hours, actually?”
“Of course,” Radu says, yanking Kyle by the wrist into a side-hug. Hal chuckles at the sight, and not a moment later he’s being pulled in, too. “You are going to the Christmas market?”
“Yeah, gonna check it out, at least.” Kyle tugs his coat on when Radu lets go of him, grabbing his muffin wrapper and napkins to toss on the way out. “See you, Radu.”
Before the bells on the top of the front door even stop jingling, Hal nudges Kyle’s side and asks, “How long’ve you been telling him next time?”
Kyle opens his mouth to answer, then shuts it again. “…I’ll get to it next year. I’m a busy guy, you know.”
“Yeah? That your New Years’ resolution?”
Kyle shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Something like that.”
It’s not a far walk to the market. Kyle guides the way, leading Hal to the park on the outskirts of Greenwich, flurries of snow blowing in their faces as they laugh about Radu and various passersby and the concept of Batman in a Santa costume.
The park is lit with soft, glowy Christmas lights, lining the stone pathways to the center and wrapped around each tree. There are shaped ones, too, snowmen and reindeer and Santa in his sleigh, and Kyle and Hal glance between all of them as they walk slowly towards the center, where there’s a big Christmas tree and a band playing Feliz Navidad and shops sprawled out under big white tarps to shield them from the snow.
Kyle’s seen this sort of thing a million times. Still, it feels magical. Maybe it’s the cold sharpening his senses or Hal’s warmth beside him or the twinkling lights emulating stars against the polluted night sky, but Kyle can’t tear his eyes away from any of it. For a few moments they stand in silence, listening to the band and the shuffle of people around them, Hal’s arm pressed against Kyle’s through multiple thick layers. They only move when the chill becomes too much, and at that point Hal tugs Kyle away to start looking at the booths.
The first little shop is selling paintings, all winter-themed. In the center, there’s an old lady bundled up in colorful coats and hats and scarves, gloved hands curled around a pocket paperback. Hal grabs Kyle’s arm to direct his attention towards one of the smaller paintings—baby Jesus in the manger with a Rudolph nose. Kyle thinks of his mom.
“You could’ve drawn those,” Hal says when they head towards the next booth, teenage girls selling baked goods stacked high in glass display cases.
Kyle huffs out a laugh, eyeing an overpriced carrot cake. “Don’t say that.”
“What? It’s true!”
Kyle turns to look at Hal, and he’s smiling, face tinted red from the cold, snow dusting his hair, and he looks beautiful and Kyle wants to kiss him and he makes himself look away, tugging Hal back towards the path to keep window-shopping.
It’s easy to fall back into comfortable conversation, but then it always is with Hal. Hal does most of the talking, lets Kyle nod along as he recounts what’s been going on in his life since they last hung out, his breath forming white puffs in the cold. Kyle likes to watch him talk. He likes the way Hal’s whole body lights up when he rambles, how he grins and laughs and talks with his hands, likes how he tilts his head towards Kyle when he’s waiting for a reply, as if to hear him better. He likes Hal’s voice, a little rougher and deeper than his own, and he likes the way he says Kyle’s name, as if it’s something special.
Hal makes him feel like he’s something special.
That’s why Kyle invited him to spend time together tonight, after all. Well, that and the fact that he really wanted to get that painting to him before Christmas, not whenever they happened to see each other after. Hal had accepted so easily, too, like he hadn’t even had to think about it—of course he’ll hang out with Kyle right before the holidays.
He’ll be staying with his brother Jim after tonight, up until New Years, or at least that’s the plan. Jim and Sue and the kids, Hal calls them. Hal’s always been better with children than Kyle. Kyle has only met Hal’s nieces and nephews briefly, but it’s clear just in how Hal talks how much he loves them. In another universe, he might make a good dad.
Kyle can see it: sitting across from Hal at Christmas dinner, watching him help one of the kids hide a gravy stain on the white tablecloth before anyone else notices. Wearing some awful Christmas sweater he got as a gift, just to make them laugh. Overloading hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream and crushed candy canes and grimacing at the sweetness when he tries a sip.
Kyle doesn’t think he ever wants kids, himself. Lantern work doesn’t really allow for having much of a family, not like some of the other heroes, not with how much time they spend offworld. He doubts he’d be any good at raising one, anyway. But it’s a fantasy—Hal, all soft and domestic like that.
“What?” Hal says, grinning and jostling Kyle’s shoulder, and ah, he was being a little too obvious, huh? “Is there something on my face?”
“Just snow,” Kyle says, shaking his head and tearing his gaze away. He steers them out of the pathway with no real plan in mind, and Hal follows without question, hand still on Kyle’s shoulder.
They end up at the outskirts of the park, where the only other people are a handful of teenagers smoking under a red-and-green lit tree, aside from the general commotion of pedestrians. Hal squeezes his shoulder and asks, amused, “Where’re we going?”
“Dunno,” Kyle admits. “Just wanna get out of the snow.”
“It is coming down pretty hard.”
They find themselves crowded under a short awning in front of a toy store that’s closed for the holidays, backs pressed up against a brick wall. Kyle tries to think about anything but the way Hal’s arm has slipped around his shoulders, tugging him closer to his body. “You wanna check out what they’ve got going on at Washington Square, too? Probably more exciting than this one. Or bigger, at least.”
Hal hums in uncertainty. “It’s getting pretty cold.”
“You can’t handle a little cold?” Kyle teases, glancing up at him. It feels too intimate, when they’re pressed close like this. He looks away.
“Oh, I’m fine,” Hal says, his smile audible in his voice. “I just don’t want you to get frostbite. You’re the one who wanted to escape the snow.”
Kyle snorts. He’s got no rebuttal for that. Standing there in the walkway, it was just too much—he felt like his feelings were this big beam of light shining out of his chest, like without a little distraction, Hal would see everything. Kyle kicks his foot and watches the sparkle of the lights in the nearby distance and says after a quiet moment, “Thanks for coming out here with me, Hal.”
“Yeah, of course,” Hal says, squeezing Kyle’s shoulder. “I’m having fun.”
“Even though we’re not doing anything?” Kyle asks, half a joke.
Hal shrugs, and it jostles them both. “I like spending time with you.”
God.
It shouldn’t feel like—like a confession. They’re friends. Of course Hal likes spending time with him. He’d say the same to Barry, or Tom, or, or anyone he’s close enough to. He’s always been more open with his emotions than Kyle. Kinda. Kyle’s pretty sure he’s got a lot buried under there, but Hal’s better at showing affection like this, at least. Kyle has always struggled a little with putting his emotions into words. Connor used to rib on him all the time about it.
“Kyle?” Hal asks, tentative. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Kyle says instinctively, his voice breathy. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
Hal tilts his head; Kyle watches the movement in his peripheral vision, then braves himself to look up at Hal, to meet his eyes. Most of the snow has melted, now that it isn’t directly falling on him. Under the nearby yellowed streetlight, Hal looks mostly confused, his big brown eyes wide in questioning, and Kyle just—he can’t take it.
It feels like one swift motion: cupping his hand to Hal’s warm cheek and leaning up to kiss him, Hal’s hands shooting to his waist and then stilling in surprise, their lips just barely brushing but so warm. Hal sucks in a sharp breath and steadies himself against the brick wall and asks, his cheeks flushed, “Why—what was that for?”
“I wanted to,” Kyle admits, tearing his hand back, his ears ringing. “I—fuck, I’m sorry, Hal. I didn’t mean to—”
“Kid,” Hal says, and Kyle shuts right up. “I’m not mad. I just… how long?”
Kyle stares at Hal’s cheek, too embarrassed to make eye contact. “A while.”
“A while,” Hal mumbles. He softens his grip on Kyle’s sides, but doesn’t let go. “You’re—you could have anyone.”
“I want you,” Kyle says, and Hal whimpers, a soft, shaky sound. “Please?”
Hal pulls him up into another kiss, and it’s all the response Kyle needs. He forgets the cold, forgets everything except Hal’s mouth on his, his hands fumbling to find Hal’s hips. Hal parts his lips, just slightly, and Kyle doesn’t even get a chance to think about it before he does the same. Hal sucks Kyle’s bottom lip into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping the sensitive skin, and when Kyle whimpers, Hal moans, low and desperate and immediately addicting. He tastes like coffee; Kyle hates how dark Hal drinks his, but he finds himself chasing it anyway.
When they break apart, Hal’s staring at him with wide, wanting eyes, a look Kyle has waited years to see from him. Hal squeezes his waist and asks, quiet, “You’re sure?”
“Fuck, Hal,” Kyle laughs, leaning forward to press his face to Hal’s chest, and the sweater is warmer than he expects. Hal’s always run hot. “Yes, I’m sure. Are you gonna fuck me or what?”
Hal makes a quiet, surprised sound. “Not here.”
“I didn’t mean here.” Kyle laughs again, feeling stupidly giddy at getting to touch Hal like this. “Obviously. My dream first time: a New York City sidewalk.”
“First?” Hal chokes, pulling Kyle back to look at him.
“Not ever,” Kyle clarifies, unable to keep a grin off his face. “First with you.”
Hal stares at him like he’s trying to see through him, and Kyle squeezes his hips, waiting. Eventually, Hal manages, “We have to stop back at Radu’s.”
“I know,” Kyle says. He lifts one hand to Hal’s face, thumbing over his cheekbone. “And after?”
Hal swallows, blinking a few times before he meets Kyle’s eyes. “My place or yours?”
They end up at Kyle’s, eventually—after more breathless making out and Radu winking at him when they retrieve the painting holding hands. Kyle winks back.
Hal sits on the edge of the bed, at Kyle’s insistence, and Kyle climbs into his lap, wrapping his thighs around Hal’s sides. He shucked off his coat the moment they got inside, so Hal easily slips a hand under his dark green Henley and holds his lower back as they fall into another kiss. Now that he can really see Hal, in the bright overhead light of his bedroom, he takes his time kissing every part of him he’s ever wanted to: his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, his neck. Hal makes these soft, whimpery sounds with each one, and Kyle’s pretty sure he’s never gonna be able to get off again without thinking about them.
“Let me,” Kyle mumbles, slipping out of Hal’s lap to sit between his knees on the floor, his hands toying with the button on Hal’s jeans.
“You don’t have to,” Hal breathes, and Kyle laughs. Like he’s doing it for Hal’s benefit and not because he’s so turned on he can’t think of anything but Hal’s cock down his throat.
“I want to.”
Hal nods sharply, and Kyle makes quick work of getting his pants and boxers around his ankles so Hal can shuffle out of them, so quick that he doesn’t get a chance to look until Hal’s bracing himself against the bed with one hand and combing through Kyle’s hair with the other.
Hal’s big. Kyle expected that—Kyle dreamed about that—but actually seeing it is… wow. He’s thick and cut and only about half-hard, and there’s a tangle of dark curls framing his cock, and Kyle must stare for too long because Hal laughs awkwardly above him. Kyle can’t look up at him, because then he’d start laughing, too, so instead he fights back a smile and lifts one hand up to cup Hal’s ass, holding the base of his cock with the other.
Kyle presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Hal’s tip, and Hal gasps and then groans and it is now Kyle’s lifelong mission to pull every sound he possibly can out of this man. He takes a couple inches into his mouth, running his tongue over the underside, and lets his mind slip into that perfect, hazy place. Kyle loves giving head. He loves anything that keeps his mouth busy, be it making out or chewing on the ends of his pens, but sucking cock, he’s learned, makes his brain feel all fuzzy and warm and good, and he’s especially wanted to get Hal’s cock in his mouth for years at this point.
He takes Hal in deeper, and doesn’t stop until he reaches the base, his nose pressing into wiry hair, Hal’s cock bumping the back of his throat in a way that makes him moan around it—he’s long trained his gag reflex away. Really, what he wants is for Hal to fuck his throat, but he’s not sure how to get that across without having to pull off and ask for it and he does not want to take his mouth off Hal’s cock anytime soon.
“Fuck,” Hal breathes, his hand tightening in Kyle’s hair just enough to feel it, but there’s no pull. Next time, he’ll ask him to be rougher. “Fuck, Ky, where’d you learn to do this?”
Kyle hums, starting to fuck himself on Hal’s cock. He’s straining against his jeans at this point, but he doesn’t touch himself, instead trailing his hand down to cup Hal’s sac, toying with his balls as he bobs his mouth on his cock.
Too soon—yet still too gently—Hal pulls him off. Kyle licks his lips and looks up at him, a soft, confused sound escaping his throat. Hal is blushing a deep red and gripping the comforter tight, falling back to sit on the edge of the bed; his other hand soothes over Kyle’s hair, light enough that it tickles his scalp. “Sorry. I wasn’t gonna last.”
Kyle laughs and tilts his head, drawing his hands into his lap. “You wouldn’t be able to get it up again?”
Hal glares at him. “Not all of us are in our twenties.”
Kyle laughs again and grabs Hal’s hand to help himself up onto his feet. He sits beside Hal and starts to tug his shirt off, because now that they’re out of the cold he feels like he’s overheating, but Hal plants a hand on his chest to stop him. “Let me.”
So Kyle pulls his hands away and sits patiently as Hal takes his shirt off, then runs his hands over Kyle’s bare sides, staring. He’d be hypocritical to complain—he’s been staring at Hal all night, after all—but he wants and Hal is so pretty, watching him with an intense focus, and he can’t help the whimper that escapes him. “Hal.”
Hal smiles and pulls his own sweater off, and fuck, he looks good naked and Kyle doesn’t even get a chance to admire as much before Hal’s hands are at his front, unbuttoning his jeans. Kyle lifts his hips and lets Hal slide his jeans and boxers off, too, and he feels—it makes him feel so small, like he’s being taken care of, like—like Hal—
Kyle gasps when Hal wraps a hand around his cock, lightly stroking him. Hal leans in to kiss him, his mouth warm and gentle on Kyle’s, and Kyle just. God. He doesn’t know what it is, but heat flares through his body and he squeezes his eyes tightly shut and arches his back and comes, just like that, whimpering Hal’s name into his mouth.
Hal stills in surprise, just for a moment, but then he licks his way into Kyle’s mouth and strokes him through it, his hand warm and kinda rough and so good on Kyle’s cock. “Fuck,” Hal breathes, pressing his forehead against Kyle’s and thumbing over his oversensitive tip. “You sound so good.”
“Hal,” Kyle whines, rolling his hips up against Hal’s hand. “Hal. Hal.”
“I know, baby,” Hal mumbles, pressing an off-center kiss to Kyle’s lips as he draws his hand back. “Let me get you cleaned up.”
Kyle hums an agreement and lets himself go boneless as Hal wipes him off with the tissues from his bedside table. His heart is still racing a little when Hal sinks down beside him again and brushes Kyle’s hair off his forehead. “You still want me to fuck you?”
Kyle opens his eyes to look at Hal. “I want that even more now.”
“Lay down, then,” Hal says, and as Kyle moves to do so, Hal fishes the lube out of the nightstand drawer, the shuffles to sit between Kyle’s thighs. “God, you’re like a fucking painting. You ever draw yourself naked?”
Kyle laughs. “Sure. Been a couple years, though.”
Hal pauses in thought for a moment before leaning over Kyle to grab a pillow, then sliding it under Kyle’s hips. It doesn’t do much—maybe he should treat himself to new pillows for Christmas—but it gives a little elevation, at least. Hal runs his hand over Kyle’s thigh, grinning. “Well, my birthday’s coming up, if you need an idea.”
Ah. It makes Kyle’s heart flutter, a little, the thought that they’ll still be fucking in two months. Or, more than fucking, preferably, but he’ll take what he can get. “I’ll think about it.”
“I could take the reference pictures,” Hal offers, popping the cap of the lube bottle open and rubbing some between his fingers to warm it up.
“Well, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if you knew exactly how it’d look,” Kyle points out, trying very hard not to think about posing for Hal. About Hal telling him what to do, directing how he places every part of his body. He can… he’ll think about that later. When he doesn’t have Hal Jordan above him.
“Like I’m gonna be able to get your body out of my mind.” Hal smiles, pressing his hand between Kyle’s legs, tracing over his rim. “Breathe for me.”
Part of Kyle is annoyed by the command—yes, he’s been fucked before, he knows—but another, stronger part of him really, really likes it. Even if Hal’s acting like he’s a little too breakable. He makes a display of visibly relaxing, and Hal hums in appreciation before sliding one thick finger into him, and oh, he forgets any ounce of annoyance.
Hal’s fingers are so much bigger than his own, and it’s been a while—Kyle fingers himself occasionally, if he’s really desperate, but usually, the extra hand cramps aren’t worth it. He gets enough of those while drawing. Plus, just knowing it’s Hal touching him makes it so much better. He’s imagined this a ridiculous amount of times.
Hal rubs his free hand over Kyle’s thigh as he carefully presses a second finger in beside the first. Kyle bites back a moan at the stretch—fuck, if just two fingers have his cock jumping in interest again this soon, the real thing’s gonna ruin him.
“Easy, kid,” Hal murmurs, parting his fingers, stretching Kyle open. “Or—Kyle. Guess I shouldn’t—”
“No,” Kyle protests, a little whinier than he’d like it to be. He thinks he probably looks pathetic like this, rocking into Hal’s hand, flushed warm all over. “No, please, I like it.”
Hal stares at him, hesitant, and for a moment, Kyle worries that this is gonna be the thing to fuck this all up. But Hal nods slowly and curls his fingers up inside Kyle. “Do you? You like when I remind you I’m twice your age?”
He’s not, not really. He’s only got around a decade on Kyle. But god, is he into it. “Yes, please, Hal, m’ready.”
“I don’t think you are,” Hal says, pulling his fingers out only to push three in. “Be patient for me, kid.”
Kyle breathes in a gasp that turns into a wail on its way out, his cock achingly hard again. Hal’s fingers brush against his prostate with each thrust in a way that Kyle doesn’t think is intentional—just inevitable, with the size of them. “Hal,” he manages, “Hal, ah, please. I need you.”
“I’ve got you,” Hal says gently, and he pulls his fingers out so slowly before lubing up his cock and propping himself up above Kyle, his hair falling into his face.
With one arm, the other balancing himself on the bed, Hal pushes Kyle’s knees up to his chest. Kyle scrambles to grab them without being told, to hold himself in place, and Hal smiles like he’s proud.
Then, finally, Hal pushes into him. He’s so slow with it, sliding in inch-by-inch—no, centimeter-by-centimeter—until, after far too long, he bottoms out, his hips pressed against Kyle’s ass. Hal tips his head down to kiss him, open-mouthed and off-center, and it feels like ages before he pulls back again.
“Kyle,” Hal says, a little breathless. Kyle can feel him so deep it’s unbelievable. “Tell me when—”
“Fuck me,” Kyle begs, clenching tight around Hal to accent his point.
To his credit, Hal does.
He’s agonizingly slow to start, but Kyle shouldn’t have expected anything else, to be fair. And with each wordless moan Kyle whines out, he moves a little faster, a little harder. Kyle has to let go of his legs and reach up to grab at Hal’s back, short nails lightly scraping his skin, desperate to hold on to him.
“Fuck,” Kyle breathes, rocking his hips up in time with Hal’s thrusts. “Harder, Hal, oh—don’t want you to hold back, please—”
“God,” Hal groans, snapping his hips forward so hard their skin slaps together, loud, sort of obscene. Kyle loves it. “Think you can come just like this?”
Kyle whimpers, high and breathy, his back arching. He wants Hal’s hand on his cock, but also, more than that, he wants to be good, wants whatever Hal wants. He nods desperately against the bed, forcing his eyes to stay open so he doesn’t have to look away from Hal. “I can, just, please—kiss me—”
Hal tips his head down and captures Kyle’s lips in a fierce, messy kiss, all moans and spit. It’s perfect. “Always thought you were so pretty,” Hal mumbles into his mouth. “Prettiest kid in the whole goddamn sector. Didn’t think I’d ever—hah—ever get you like this.”
“Hal,” Kyle whines, the only word he can manage. “Hal, Hal.”
Hal lowers his head to mouth at Kyle’s neck, mumbling sweet words Kyle can barely process, licking and sucking at his skin and then he bites and Kyle, fuck—
Kyle comes with a mewl, his legs shaking as he desperately rocks up against Hal, chasing the waves of pleasure that are crashing through him. Hal doesn’t slow for even a moment; he thrusts two, three, four more times before he’s coming, too, spilling deep inside Kyle with a low groan.
Hal collapses onto him when he’s done, the weight comforting despite the stickiness between them. “Jesus,” he mumbles, propping his chin up on Kyle’s collarbone. His softening cock slides half-out of Kyle, but it’s alright. They’ll have to clean up soon anyway. “All good?”
Kyle smiles, his mind still a little hazy with pleasure. He lifts one hand to stroke Hal’s cheek, nodding. “Uh-huh. You were very good.”
Hal’s eyes go wide, and his breath hitches, and oh, Kyle’s gonna have to experiment with that. “I—thanks. You too. Better than your sidewalk?”
“I dunno,” Kyle teases, leaning up to peck Hal’s lips. “Might need a repeat trial.”
Hal turns his head to rest it against Kyle’s chest. “Well, we can’t have two first times.”
“I could fuck you next time,” Kyle suggests. “That’s close enough.”
Hal goes quiet and stays quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time. Just when Kyle’s about to take his words back, though, Hal speaks: “You know, I’m sure no one would mind if I brought a date to Christmas.”
Which—okay. They can revisit the other thing later, because holy shit, Hal wants him to spend Christmas with his family. “What?” Kyle asks, a little breathless; he almost can’t believe he heard Hal right.
“If you want, I mean,” Hal says, as if there’s any chance Kyle could take this casually. “Since you’re not doing anything and all.”
Kyle grabs Hal’s face with both hands, tilting his head to make eye contact. “You gonna introduce me as your boyfriend?”
“Should I?” Hal asks, leaning into Kyle’s right hand. “Do you want to be?”
“Yes,” Kyle laughs, an easy answer to both. “Do you wanna go make out in the shower?”
At Hal’s resounding yes, Kyle feels so happy that he might just call up Radu about getting that mural done for him. After the holidays, of course.
(He’s sure the man will be delighted to hear his updates about Hal. Maybe he’ll keep a few details for just the two of them, though. Radu can fill in the gaps.)