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The alcove she sits in screens her from the view of most. She doesn’t usually observe the throne room – not much of interest ever happens, and what little does, she’s already foreseen. But this… she had wanted to see Jordan’s failure to save his Lantern comrades, not his pathetically blatant attempt at subverting her lord. It’s too far beyond parody to even be amusing, but Lord Sinestro would not thank her for intervening. He seats himself in Lord Sinestro’s lap like he belongs there, like he has the right to do anything other than kneel and beg for his miserable existence, and all she can do is watch, and wait for him to be put in his place.
She can’t hear what Jordan says as he leans in to kiss her lord, despite the stunned silence hanging over the rest of the room.
Lord Sinestro’s curt voice slices through the silence. “Put those two in an escape pod and get them off my planet. And get out, all of you.”
Shock holds Lyssa motionless for a few key moments. He can’t mean to actually let them go, surely. The other Sinestro Corps members file out, dragging the Green Lanterns with them and muttering among themselves, but none choosing to question their lord and master.
As they shouldn’t, she reminds herself. None should question him, not even her. But in such circumstances, she thinks she should perhaps be forgiven a small measure of incredulity. To allow a Green Lantern to dictate his actions – and of all of them, Hal Jordan! It is inconceivable.
At this point, she realises she has lost her moment to leave with the others, and is going to have to either awkwardly shuffle out, thereby risking her lord’s displeasure at her delay, or to stay put and hope he doesn’t notice her disobedience. She leans a little further back in her alcove, telling herself it makes more sense to stay put. Curiosity plays no part in her decision.
“You have what you wanted, Jordan. I think perhaps it’s time I got what I want.” Sinestro smiles at his prisoner, no hint in his face that he distrusts this turn of events. He must know this is a trick. He must.
“Oh? And what would that be?” Insolent as ever, she scoffs to herself. Why can’t Lord Sinestro see it?
“Brat. Strip, Jordan. And kneel.”
Jordan chuckles and stands in order to remove his clothes, seemingly happy enough to be ordered around. He’s usually recalcitrant at best. She would have expected such a show of false (it must be false) deference to Lord Sinestro to provoke some form of suspicion, but he seems to take it at face value. Seems to expect it, even, watching Jordan strip for him with every sign of enjoyment.
There’s no hesitation in Jordan, either, as he pulls the last of his clothes off and folds to his knees in front of her (their?) lord. He makes a pretty enough picture, she’ll acknowledge (to herself, and no-one else), but nothing that should prompt the positively fatuous expression on Lord Sinestro’s face.
He reaches out to thumb at Jordan’s lower lip, playing with it. “Still so very pretty.”
Jordan flushes a little and tilts his face to press a kiss to Sinestro’s hand. “I’m twenty years older, Sin, and I’m already on my knees. You don’t need to flatter me.”
“Twenty years. And here we both are, at last.” Lord Sinestro hums and draws Jordan up to kiss him. Jordan reaches a hand up to cup his jaw, apparently unaware of the many liberties he’s taking. Lyssa has never been allowed such familiarity, such license. Lord Sinestro would never permit her to contradict him in public, let alone crawl into his lap and ask him to act against his own interests. But Jordan can apparently do all this unthinkingly, and all Lord Sinestro will do is smile.
“At last?” Jordan draws back a little, smiling up into Sinestro’s face. “Missed me, have you?”
Lord Sinestro smiles back, carding a hand through the human’s hair. “Perhaps a little.”
“Good. I’d hate to think it was just me.”
Lord Sinestro laughs, and sits back. He looks happy, she realises. That’s why she didn’t recognise his expression. She’s seen him desiring, satisfied, pleased even. Never happy. The realisation twists in her gut as she watches Jordan reach out to free Sinestro’s cock and take him in his mouth.
Sinestro tangles a hand in Jordan’s hair as his head bobs, wet little noises filling the room, occasionally interspersed with a low moan whenever Sinestro tugs at the hair in his grip. She can feel herself reacting involuntarily, arousal coiling in her stomach as she watches them together. There’s a familiarity there which she has never attained with Lord Sinestro, but also an affection she’s not even dared to dream of. She’d never thought him willing to condescend to such a weakness. But here he is, allowing Jordan to pleasure him, apparently blind to the possibility of deception. He knows Jordan better than anyone, as he’s fond of telling his corps, but it seems the reverse may also be true. This is a beautiful lie: perfectly judged, adapted to its audience, flawlessly executed. If anyone else were being deceived, she would sincerely applaud it. As it is, the entire situation is enraging. And she can’t even point it out, she seethes, as she watches her lord – her lover! – drag Jordan down onto his cock and come down his throat with a groan. She’ll just sound jealous, like she’s looking to displace a rival, rather than worried. She has to watch and do nothing. Action will weaken her position.
She’s forced to repeat it to herself several times, like a mantra, as Sinestro leans down to kiss the enemy kneeling at his feet, before pulling them both upright. Jordan’s speaking too quietly for her to hear, but the tone – a soft, almost plaintive whine – tells her enough.
She sniffs in derision, furious enough to briefly forget herself, and freezes as Lord Sinestro meets her eyes. She expects to be reprimanded – and harshly – for her disobedience in not leaving the room when she was ordered. Instead, he barely acknowledges her, just raising an eyebrow slightly before leaving the room with Jordan. The indifference hurts more than any punishment could.