[ That's all the warning the stranger gets when a bright light appears behind him, growing as if a door was opening wider. Out from its light steps Midnighter, six-foot-five, grown out mohawk and his usual black leathers. ]
[ Midnighter goes willingly, stepping closer when he's pulled forward. His arms remain at his side, the perfect picture of harmlessness. ]
I could start stripping, or you could order me to. Or, if you want to do the honor yourself... Plenty of options, Billy.
[ But without waiting for an answer, he leans in just a few centimeters away from touching the other man's mouth. He can feel his warm breath and the few rough hairs of Billy's dark beard that connect with his chin and his lips. God he loves a guy with a heavy beard. ]
[ That, Midnighter can do. Pushed back, he has room to show Billy everything. The trench coat goes first, then his carbon fiber plating. He's not much of a stripper. Rhythm and dancing were not one of the packages installed to his computer brain≥ His body will just have to speak for itself.
In spite of how violent he portrays himself, there's not one scars visible anywhere on him. What he does have is thick muscle and a hairy chest. His legs are just as muscular as he shucks his pants off like an ear of corn, kicking them to the side.
He's naked now. One big hand strokes his cock a couple of times, and then lets it fall fat against his thigh. And from there he kneels down, legs spread. ]
[He'd expected more scars than that. Billy-- he's littered with them. Both from back home and thanks to his little visit to Hell before coming here. Not that it's apparent with his clothes still on.
And the most effort he makes is to undo his trousers for right now as he watched Midnighter.
Scars or no, there's a pleased hum that leaves him. For what sounds like another county supe, he can't complain about what he's seeing... the expanse of muscle, the sight of him playing with his own cock.
Butcher steps forward to reach out and slide a hand through his hair, tipping his head back.]
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alotmorehorrible) wrote2022-12-23 07:36 pm
no subject
ive got no refractory period
be there in three, two,
one.
[ That's all the warning the stranger gets when a bright light appears behind him, growing as if a door was opening wider. Out from its light steps Midnighter, six-foot-five, grown out mohawk and his usual black leathers. ]
no subject
[He spins around, brows furrowed. His fucking luck, huh? A supe. He tilts his chin up, meeting his eyes almost in challenge.]
Not even a fucking knock, eh? Were you raised by animals or what, mate?
[The taunt doesn't hold much heat. Whatever happens, at least this won't be boring, right?]
no subject
[ Yeah, this one's a chatterbox. ]
So, you wanna tell me your name, so I've got something to scream. or, are we keeping this booty call anonymous?
no subject
[He gives a grin.]
Billy Butcher, mate. What am I calling you?
no subject
[ Then he steps forward to see if the man steps back. He knows the stranger won't. ]
no subject
[Of course he doesn't. He's squared off with fucking Homelander and worse blokes than can magically appear in your room, hasn't he?
Plus-- he's not so bad looking neither.
He shoots a hand out to grab him by the jacket, giving him a rough pull forward.]
You're wearing too fucking much. What should we be doing about that?
no subject
I could start stripping, or you could order me to. Or, if you want to do the honor yourself... Plenty of options, Billy.
[ But without waiting for an answer, he leans in just a few centimeters away from touching the other man's mouth. He can feel his warm breath and the few rough hairs of Billy's dark beard that connect with his chin and his lips. God he loves a guy with a heavy beard. ]
no subject
Before he's shoving the other back away, whatever temptation there might have been to claim a kiss or two..]
Start stripping then. After, you can get on your knees for me, love.
no subject
In spite of how violent he portrays himself, there's not one scars visible anywhere on him. What he does have is thick muscle and a hairy chest. His legs are just as muscular as he shucks his pants off like an ear of corn, kicking them to the side.
He's naked now. One big hand strokes his cock a couple of times, and then lets it fall fat against his thigh. And from there he kneels down, legs spread. ]
no subject
And the most effort he makes is to undo his trousers for right now as he watched Midnighter.
Scars or no, there's a pleased hum that leaves him. For what sounds like another county supe, he can't complain about what he's seeing... the expanse of muscle, the sight of him playing with his own cock.
Butcher steps forward to reach out and slide a hand through his hair, tipping his head back.]
Eager to follow orders, aren't you, lad?
no subject
[ Outside of play time, he's not so keen on being told what to do. It usually leads to petty spite or the loss of a limb. ]
no subject
Right, well... Suppose you're thinking I'm the right guy at the moment, eh?
[A pause.]
You got brain on your boots 'cause some other cunt try to get a little pushy with you or was it just for a wee bit of fun?
no subject
[ His eyebrows bob comically as he's bent back on his knees to stare up at the big bad man in front of him. ]
Bit of column A, bit of column B. You Doms think you can harass any kid on the streets. I exist to tell you how wrong you are.