#i didn't anticipate having a wrist injury when i got him and i was fully willing to take him to a behaviorist

[naemors]

so an update: my wrist hasn't gotten much better and that's kept me from writing along with other things.

[wajjs]

Hal always carries a pack of bandaids with him. Not for injuries. No. He needs these whenever the other three Lanterns won't stop pinching and rubbing his nips. In public. During missions. At meetings. Post battle. Pre Battle - you get the idea.

They hurt.

That's the first thing he thinks when he touches his chest while looking in the mirror. His fucking nipples hurt. They're a deeper, darker, color than usual, and if he actually looks he can still see the teeth marks around his areolas. God damn it. He shouldn't have let them go at it as hard as they did.

Sure, he enjoyed it. Well. He more than enjoyed it. But that's not the point — the point is that they overdid it, even though he did ask for it, yes, and...

Staring at his reflection, he frowns in concentration as he runs the tip of his index and middle fingers around the outer circle of his areolas, slowly closing in on his nipples. A knot starts to form at the base of his stomach, and he's tingling both in anticipation and from the pleasure the soft touch brings him.

(To think that before knowing them he never paid attention to his chest. To think that he had gone so long without knowing...)

He's holding his breath by the time he gets to the hardened peaks. Still staring at himself in the mirror, he watches, captured by the motions, as he traps his nipples between his thumb and index finger, holding them from the base.

And when he tugs—he tugs, going from the base to the sensitive, tender tips, and his knees almost buckle over. His cock is hard as a mast inside his boxers, fully tenting. God. God. He thinks he could come just from playing with his chest.

He didn't use to be like this.

It's all due to them playing with his chest, his nipples, for hours, while fucking him, or while he's fucking them, clamping and stretching and biting and sucking and.

Breathing shakily, he takes himself back to his bed, shoving his underwear down to his ankles so he can take his hard cock in his own hand. He's still looking at himself in the mirror. His other hand is still playing with his nipples, alternating between the both of them, until they're both bright red and his cock is so hard and wet with precum and—

In the end, he ends up leaving his place an hour later than originally planned.

—

He's mildly embarrassed by it. Of course he knows that with the Green Lantern suit on, no one can tell that he's got bandaids crisscrossed over his nipples. When he's wearing his normal clothes, the slight bump is only noticeable if he's looking for it. With the suit and how it works? No one can tell.

Yet it feels as though he's walking around with a bright neon sign pointing at his chest. It's ridiculous. It's also ridiculous that he's ashamed. He's Hal Jordan, for fuck's sake! He shouldn't be ashamed!

He's rubbing the back of his neck, sighing as he walks down the empty corridor in Oa, making his way to the open courtyard to see how the newbies are doing. By all means, he should be safe here. Everyone else is busy. They are supposed to be busy.

He's already hearing the noises of newbies being throttled by Kilowog and it brings a smile to his face. He still remembers what it was like to be trained by him. He remembers how he cursed, yelled, and.

Hal nearly jumps out of his skin when Kyle interrupts him mid thought, arms wrapped around his torso, hands already digging into his chest.

"Gotcha!" Kyle half laughs, half sings, and for added dramatic effect he's full on squeezing Hal's pectorals. Or, well, his tits, as Kyle, John and Guy like to call them. "Man, I missed these."

Grabbing onto Kyle's wrists, Hal groans. "Don’t you mean you missed me?"

"Sure," Hal can feel Kyle shrug. "Fucking hated that last one," a squeeze, "I don't know how you handle diplomatic missions," another squeeze, "all I kept thinking about was you and these tits and—"

"Kyle."

But Kyle is undeterred, and so are his hands.

With the accuracy of someone who has done this a thousand times before, Kyle aims to pinch Hal's nipples. Except where they usually are, vulnerable and within pinching range, what he finds is something in the way.

"Hey," looking over Hal's shoulder, Kyle stares down at his hands, still uselessly trying to close his fingers around the suddenly elusive peaks, "you covered them! No fair!"

"Shut up, it's my chest!"

Kyle frowns even harder. He pulls back only to turn Hal around before shoving him against the wall.

"Off," he says. Hal stares at him, going through the list of pros and cons of punching Kyle.

Pros, no one terrorizes his chest. Cons, Kyle would be upset, which means when they fuck later he will go at it harder. Also, Guy would enact vengeance as well. No one punches Kyle if Guy's around.

Hal sometimes fucking hates their communal relationship. (Polycule, John would correct him if he could hear his thoughts right now.)

"I'm not taking my uniform off."

Kyle's eyebrows fully meet. His frown is that severe.

"Fine," he concedes at last, though he does look put off by it. "Just don't complain tonight when I tell John to bring out the pumps."

[underwater-i-will-go]

my beautiful beautiful pathetic looking boy. and his less pathetic looking teammate.

"i guess it's all over then, isn't it." james sighs to jarrad. for him, not making it into the final squad wasn't a big surprise, everyone told him to just take it all in and accept it, gaining some experience within the camp, keep on working hard.

for jarrad however, given the bad defensive situation in camp, many injuries and some players who are prone to it anyway, he full on expected to make it through. but he didn't.

one knowing all along, the other still kind of shocked.

so now they're standing here, hoodies on, at the bus stop. they could've called a driver, but felt like going their separate ways like in the good old days, when going home from training hadn't potentially marked their futures.

jarrad guessed that james hadn't noticed his feelings for him growing over the last year, now back together for england, seeing james walk through the door made him feel complete, like a piece of him was missing. they hadn't really talked ever since that one fateful night on december 16th last year at goodison.

jarrad was suspended that night and so his replacement scored a goal against james, for some reason jarrad had felt like it was his fault. he wouldn't have done it. hated how he still thinks of that night, it was so long ago.

it began raining and the two boys took one step back to shelter. james kept checking his wrist for the time, the bus was late.

"it's not over for you, don't be daft." jarrad nudged his shoulder "you'll be back here sooner than you think."

"you before me." james seemed a little hopeless, his already pathetic looking face even more pathetic now, jarrad's eyes were stuck to it, so hard to look away, he wanted to take it all in, who knows when they'll next see each other, what clubs they'll be at by then, if england will ever call up either of them again.

"i got something on my face?" james smiled looking down. jarrad snapped out of his state, almost blushing from being caught staring.

"uh, no. just."

"what?" jarrad could read anticipation in james' face, like he desperately wanted to hear a very specific response from jarrad, but jarrad didn't know which so he just said nothing. james' face going back to pathetic mode when he realised jarrad wasn't going to say any more.

"it's just." jarrad began once more, james looking up from his phone. "just say it mate."

"i ... i'm gonna miss ... playing with you. at camp. and stuff." jarrad nervously pushed his hands in and out of the pockets of his hoodie, rain becoming heavier.

james smiled "i'm gonna miss playing with you, too. we should go out some time. with friends."

"yeah. sound." jarrad had fucked up twice now, the words he truly wanted to say stuck in his throat, but he still couldn't swallow them fully, scared they'll force their way out. wanted the bus to come already, never wanted it to come at the same time.

the details about james' he tried to take in, eyes on the ground, their feet getting wet, rain falling heavy now.

"so ..." jarrad began again, he couldn't break the connection. james looked at him, but this time, the look on his face was different, he'd never looked at him this way before. like he really wanted him to say it, as if he could hear the words stuck in jarrad's throat hammering against it, begging to just be released from his mouth.

the bus finally pulled up, james now breaking eye contact with jarrad, their now or never moment. james' eyes searching in jarrad's, begging, then losing focus. he grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder.

"well, i hope your bus comes soon. you're all soaked." james' hand went to jarrad's forehead to push a strand of his hair to the side. "call me sometime?" jarrad was like frozen to the spot, like james' fingers on his skin had left a mark that should never fade again.

the door of the bus opened and james had sat one foot to the step.

"wait." jarrad laid a hand to james' shoulder, marking him the way james had just marked his forehead.

"i'm not just gonna miss playing with you. i'm gonna miss you. i'm sorry for the goal of keane."

james looked a little confused. "what?"

"i wouldn't have scored against you. never. i ..."

"...you?"

jarrad closed his eyes, ready to never have him speak to him again. their now or never.

"i like you." he couldn't open his eyes, couldn't take the hand off james' shoulder, too afraid he would slip away.

"was that really so hard? fucks sake, jarrad. took you a while."

he opened his eyes to see james with the biggest smile on his pathetic little face. "same, by the way."

"what?" jarrad asked, face stunned, both boys now soaked in rain.

"i said same. i like you too." it seemed so easy for james to say when it taken so long for jarrad to confess what was apparently obvious to james all along.

"but you're gonna have to let go of me now, okay?" jarrad hadn't even realised that the bus had waited the whole time they were talking, even when it had been less than a minute maybe, jarrad stuck in time, like it stood still, the only thing reminding him that they were real, that this wasn't a dream was the rain that fell onto both of them.

"can i come with?" jarrad asked, quickly grabbing his bag.

"back to lancashire? aren't you're on your way to the airp-"

"no. not anymore."

james smiled and finally got into the bus, his hand held out for jarrad to take it, making sure he won't slip on the steps.

"it's a a six hour coach, just warning you." james added

"won't feel like six hours when with you."

[simon-egg]

Benthan Week Day 1 - Hurt/ comfort

Title: Digging In

1873 words fic with art. TW for blood, torture and injury. Physical hurt followed by comfort with a happy ending. Benji is taken and physically tortured in an unusal way.

~○~

Benji lurched forward as something connected with his torso followed by another sudden movement which caused pain to shoot up his side. His eyes snapped open.

“Get up.” Spat a voice from above.

The agent realised he was on a cold, hard floor in a dimly lit space. His chest was bare and he shivered with short gasps. With no recollection of how he got there and a dizzying feeling, he realised he had been drugged. The last thing he remembered was driving home after a long day writing up mission reports which could have been minutes or hours ago. Before his mind was clear enough to fully assess the situation he was in, he was roughly dragged to his feet. Whatever drug they had given Benji had sapped his energy and he sagged, unable to control or defend himself. Benji registered one person holding him firmly upright while another, a man with thick clothes and gloves, began to unwind a roll of barbed wire. Without hesitation, one of Benji's arms was pulled forward and the wire was pulled over his palm and roughly bent around his wrist. The barbs began slicing into his skin and Benji let out a shout of agony to which seemed to spur his captors on. Over and over again, the wire was roughly twisted around his arm at various angles, each coil bringing more barbs puncturing his skin. Grimly, Benji noted that the drug which kept him from fighting back did nothing to stop the pain. As soon as Benji thought the pain was growing too much to bear, the wire was looped through a ring bolted to the ceiling and his other arm was subjected to the same torture. This left him standing upright with his arms trapped above his head. By now whatever drug he was given had worn off enough that he could hold himself up straight. The two men stepped back and in front of Benji, seeming to gleefully eye up the state that they'd put him in.

Benji recognised the men as members of the Apostles who had not yet been tracked down. The one who had used the wire began to speak.

“You're going to die here.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Whether it takes hours or days, it doesn't matter. Just know that all you'll know until you die is pain-“

Benji tried to kick at the men which only caused himself more pain. “Why would you do this?” he choked out.

“You and your friend, Ethan, shouldn’t have tried to stop us. We may not have been able to cause mass suffering but If Ethan finds you strung up here, dead, knowing there will have been nothing he could have done to save his precious friend. That. That is enough for us now.”

Before Benji could think of a reply, the men turned and left.

He could smell his own blood which coated his arms and dripped down past his elbows, some splashed onto his chest and further to the floor with a barely audible wet sound. As time passed, his vision adjusted and he understood from the corrugated iron walls that he was in an old, rusting shipping container but with little light and no windows, he had no idea where he was or how long he had been there. All the while, the barbs caused searing pain and his muscles began to ache as he was forced to hold himself in position.

Light coming through cracks in the door and walls had brightened gradually, indicating to Benji that the sun was rising outside of the box. Some of his blood had dried to a brownish crust while fresh blood occasionally oozed. Hours continued to pass and the only thing keeping Benji from giving up completely was the hope that Ethan might find him. He had to try and stay alive because his captors were right; the thought of Ethan finding him strung up and dead was almost worse than the physical pain he was in. It was peculiar to Benji how those around him, even those he fought against seemed to immediately pick up on the bond between him and Ethan but then again, maybe it wasn’t so odd after all. They had so much faith in one another, kindness, loyalty and shared experiences that Benji found himself growing ever closer to the other agent. In fact, the feelings he had for Ethan had begun to develop past friendship after Kashmir and into something else. Benji made a promise to himself that if by some impossible miracle he was to get out alive, he would tell Ethan how he felt. With his eyes screwed shut against the pain, Benji found comfort in picturing Ethan talking to him, reassuring him, laughing at his jokes and smiling with that kind old smile that he might never see again.

The cruellest part of this torture, Benji came to realise was that despite the exhaustion, blood loss and agony which coaxed him to pass out, he simply could not allow himself to move or relax. He knew that doing so would make the barbs to twist deeper into his flesh. For now, he noted that no barbs were deep enough to hit any major blood vessels or the blood loss would have killed him by now. Despite this, he was still loosing blood and Benji began doubting that he could stay awake and tears began to sting, threatening to spill. Maybe he should give in, even if he died there, at least the dead don’t feel pain.

Benji was jerked from his thoughts by the sound of metal scraping against metal as the door was forced open and light flooded into the container.

“Benji…” Ethan’s voice echoed.

Ethan rushed closer but Benji didn't move, too physically and mentally drained to respond. He simply stared down with dull and unfocused eyes. Ethan’s gaze flicked over Benji's form, horrified at the situation Benji was in. A gentle hand was on Benji's face, and Ethan's thumb caressed his cheek.

Softly, Ethan whispered "Look at me" and after a few seconds, Benji's eyes flicked up to meet Ethan's.

“i'm so, so sorry Benji...” Ethan felt a rush of anger. He wanted to cry but he had to hold himself together for Benji. He was lucky to have found Benji alive. The two Apostles who took Benji did not anticipate just how determined and fast Ethan would be with the help of Luther who had tracked Benji's location by hacking security cameras. Luther was waiting nearby in a van.

"I can't remove the wire from your arms, it could cause more damage but I promise you, this will be over soon. I'm taking you home"

Benji was too weak to hold himself up and Ethan knew that if he simply cut Benji free, he could collapse and cause more injury. Ethan also understood that removing the barbs there and then would only cause more pain and bleeding too.

He used his left hand to steady one of Benji's arms in place above his head, careful to avoid pressure on the wire, then used a pair of cutters with his right to cut through the wire that held Benji's arm up. Ethan then slowly lowered that arm to Benji's side. He did the same to the other arm then awkwardly shuffled closer to Benji's side and manoeuvred an upper arm to rest across his neck, attempting to steady him. After failing to shuffle forwards holding Benji up like this, it became evident that Benji did not possess the strength to walk at all and Ethan didn’t want to put any pressure on his arms.

“I- I can’t, Ethan, I just-“ Benji coughed out.

“It’s okay, I’ll carry you” and Ethan resorted to gathering Benji up and carrying him out. Benji noticed the bodies of the two apostles outside and the last coherent thought he had before he passed out was thinking of how warm Ethan's arms were.

~

Benji woke up again to find himself in the back of a van. Pain continued to flare up his arms and he groaned, his chest throbbed and his head pounded. A reassuring hand stroked through his hair and realised his head was in Ethan’s lap.

“i've got you, you're going to be okay" murmured his friend. One of Ethan’s jackets had been draped over Benji's upper body to try and keep him warm for the journey and a quick glance up he could tell Luther was driving. “We’re not far from a hospital now, you’re going to be just fine.”

Luther had called ahead to notify the hospital and upon arrival they were met by a team of paramedics. Benji was taken inside and immediately given some strong pain killers along with fluids. The rest of the day passed in a haze, scans were taken of the tech’s arms to determine how close any barbs were to blood vessels, tendons and nerves. Then, Benji was sedated and the painstaking process of removing the wire began.

~

The next time Benji awoke he was relived to find that the wire had been removed from his arms and hands which were mostly covered in bandages. The painkillers had worked their magic and he mostly just felt subdued and so, so exhausted.

“I’d hold your hand if I could” Ethan murmured, catching Benji’s attention. The older agent sat in a chair next to the bed and Benji could have sworn he looked like he had been crying. The comment and Ethan’s expression caught Benji off guard and he briefly wondered if he had imagined it.

“I’m sorry.” Ethan paused, contemplating what to say. “I’ve just… come to realise how much you mean to me, I care about you so much, more than you know and it shouldn’t have taken me so long to realise and tell you that. I understand if you don’t feel the same-“

Before Ethan could continue, Benji quietly interjected “Thinking of you while I was in that place kept me going, kept me from giving up, so yes, yes I feel the same.”

“Are you sure?”

Benji perked up slightly “of course, I’m bloody sure!" He chuckled "I love you Ethan Hunt and can not be more relived that you feel the same!”

Ethan beamed and moved closer to the bed, then pressed his lips to Benji’s gently, a sweet kiss that Benji smiled into and a promise of many more in their future.

When Ethan pulled back he spoke again, “I was thinking, if you’d let me, once you are discharged from here, can I come back with you? To your place? You won’t be able to do much without full use of both arms for a while and I want to help you. I want to be there for you and if I’m with you I’ll be able to make sure you’re safe. Not that you’re not capable of looking after yourself I just-, while you recover which I know will take some time, both physically and mentally”

Benji grinned, feeling a wave of affection for Ethan “of course, I’d love to have your company… and maybe you could stick around with me after I’m mostly healed?”

“That sounds like a plan.”