Homelander's jaw tightens with all the steely determination of a child unwilling to relinquish his hold on a favorite toy. He's not going to let this place wipe out everything he and Billy have been through -- everything they've built and become together.
With the belt and the zipper out of the way, he grip Billy's dick through his boxers, his glare alight with stubbornness.
The touch of that hand definitely has him stirring under the attention, a low growl leaving him at that look Homelander's giving him, at all the bloody insistence. "You won't forget about me... you'll forget about all this shite. I'm gonna be there, a thorn in your arse every step of the way."
He reaches down to drag the other's shirt up, shrugging. "Just no actual touching of your arse anymore. You won't remember that..."
Homelander lifts his arms, letting Billy liberate him from his shirt. There's a troubled furrow to his brow as he meets Billy's gaze, and a clear message written on his face: he's completely unwilling to accept a future devoid of ass touching.
"I'll know," he insists quietly. "I won't forget."
Memories are just... what? Electric pulses in the brain? That's nothing. Butcher's got a much deeper hold on him than that. He's in his bones, his sinews -- in all the wet, disgusting parts of him.
"Mm... " He wants to believe that. But have they been that lucky so fucking far? Or have they just been yanked around like rag dolls here and there? He doesn't exactly want to forget this shite either. Funny how that hit him like a sack of bricks. He doesn't want to forget--
What they've got here. What they've done.
"You gonna remind me if I do, love?" He asks after a moment, leaning just a little bit closer.
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alotmorehorrible) wrote2022-12-23 07:36 pm
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"If you quit worrying over me weight, we might be having an actual fuck instead." Better than talking feelings or how this is the end, right?
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"Oh, I'm sorry," Homelander says, not sounding all that sorry. "I didn't realize my, uh, body shaming was keeping you from whipping your dick out."
His hands move, with practiced efficiency, to undo Billy's belt buckle.
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Or wearing his clothes about like they're his.
He does lean back though, letting Homelander work. "We better make it count, eh? Even if we're forgetting it all anyway."
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Homelander's jaw tightens with all the steely determination of a child unwilling to relinquish his hold on a favorite toy. He's not going to let this place wipe out everything he and Billy have been through -- everything they've built and become together.
With the belt and the zipper out of the way, he grip Billy's dick through his boxers, his glare alight with stubbornness.
"Your accent's too ridiculous."
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He reaches down to drag the other's shirt up, shrugging. "Just no actual touching of your arse anymore. You won't remember that..."
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"I'll know," he insists quietly. "I won't forget."
Memories are just... what? Electric pulses in the brain? That's nothing. Butcher's got a much deeper hold on him than that. He's in his bones, his sinews -- in all the wet, disgusting parts of him.
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What they've got here. What they've done.
"You gonna remind me if I do, love?" He asks after a moment, leaning just a little bit closer.