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planes on a collision course

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The first few times that Hammond had made him take his cock in his mouth, Hal nearly vomited all over his shoes. But Hammond probably would’ve liked that anyway, so he swallowed his bile and shifted down to try and take more.

It was a simple arrangement. Hal had lost, Hammond had won. He had won everything, Ferris Air, Carol Ferris’ hand in marriage, knowledge of Hal’s secret identity. His plan had failed, and Hal found his new spot in the company rather quickly.

On his knees, between Hammond’s spread thighs. Shaking fingers gripped his slacks like a lifeline, bobbing his head at Hammond’s will. Sometimes, Hammond made him take his cock all the way in and stay there for hours on end while he worked.

It was a new kind of hell, stuck in his head with that weight in his mouth, the weight on his mind. Hal could only think of everything he lost, when he was more naive, when he thought he was going to save the day just because he was the good guy and Hammond was bad.

Heroes didn’t end up on their knees to be used as a warm hole.

Steady fingers tangled in his hair, holding him down while Hammond thrust into his throat. It had been hours since he was first put on his knees for the day, and he ached all over. Hal just wanted it to be over, knew that he’d have to do it again and again because this was his job in the aftermath of his mistakes.

A part of him thought that this was better than the alternative that he knew was coming, when Hammond would pull him up and bend him over the desk. And then he’d go home to Carol and, assumedly, do the same to her. Hammond had called him a work wife once, with a sneer and a laugh, and Hal decided that it was probably true. That Hammond probably treated his real wife the same way, he hadn’t seen Carol since everything went wrong, but he could see him forcing her to play the pretty little wife and the thought made him a little sick.

Just like the taste of Hammond’s pre-cum on his tongue did, the reminder of how he had lost everything.

He missed the feeling of flying in a jet plane, flying higher because of the ring that he had been given. He hated being grounded, being trapped by this man and being forced to service him. Most of all, he hated that he had gotten used to it, that he knew how to bob his head in just the right way for Hammond to spill into his mouth.

Hal had gotten good at it, and that was the worst part of it all. The fact that he kept coming back to Hammond’s office every day just so he could keep a shitty desk job and some secret identity that he no longer had. He had lost everything and he was just letting it all stay lost. And for what?

He knew what he had to do, get in his car and head anywhere else but Coast City. He wasn’t the Green Lantern anymore, but he had heard of people who were like him. Abilities and costumes, a world he hadn’t known about for very long. He hoped that they would help him, even if he could hardly get that damn ring to spark green anymore.

Hal just needed the time to form a plan. He could take that time on his knees, servicing Hector Hammond like nothing was wrong. Or more wrong than usual, Hammond knew he hated it and relished in the tears that gathered in his eyes, the hitching sobs that he didn’t bother to try and silence anymore when Hammond fucked him.

God, he’d had enough. He looked up at Hammond, watching him make calls with an unwavering voice and do paperwork like Hal wasn’t even there.

Maybe the only way out of it was to take that sharp letter opener and plunge it into his body over and over and over again, until there was no way he would be getting up. Fuck everyone else, fuck waiting around or running. Maybe that was the only thing he could do, saving himself and Carol and Ferris Air in one move.

Hal’s fingers twitched and he knew he could do it. Knew that he probably shouldn’t, thought that he probably should anyway. Salvation at the end of a dagger, staging his own rescue.

But then Hammond was pulling him up and off of his cock, pulling him out of his thoughts just in time for him to thrust back down his throat. Hammond started to fuck his face in earnest, ready for his orgasm after a long phone call. Hal hated that smirk the most, holding onto his pants as he fucked his face hard and fast.

Of course, the feeling of his cock bumping into the back of his throat hurt too. But that was just physical pain, not the feeling of being entirely conquered. He had lost because he wasn’t good enough, and maybe killing Hammond was the only way to be entirely good.

And, God, would it feel good? Soaking himself in the hot blood of the man who had ruined him, he understood it suddenly. Why people killed other people, it took him until that very moment to realize it.

He had his plan and he had the willpower to do it, he was given the ring to prove it. He just needed to find the right time, right when Hammond was at his most distracted. Perhaps when he had Hal bent over the desk, his hand right next to the letter opener while both of Hammond’s hands were occupied. And then he could strike.

He needed to do it. He couldn’t be held there any longer.

Was it still a crime of passion if the only thing he felt for Hammond was blinding rage? He wasn’t exactly sure but, as Hammond pulled him back by the hair and spurted hot cum over his face, he decided that he was willing to risk it all if it meant being free.