[He rolls his eyes-- but look, he tries to be a little softer with the ball. Not that it'll help the stinging, but hopefully it's something.
He's not sure whether to be impressed or shake his head at the dumb cunt for holding out that long. Or maybe just irritated because this is going to take a while to clean up.]
That's quite a fucking list you got there, innit? Not sure poor performance counts as a sin though.
[His brow furrows as he stares down at the floor, forcing himself to keep still while Butcher tends to the cuts.]
It does when you're me.
[It's certainly what Vogelbaum used to chastise him for the most. Poor performance, poor control, not trying hard enough, not appreciating the gifts he'd been given.]
My first official mission didn't go well. Thought I'd told you that.
Fucking up isn't sinning. Don't be a dumb fucking cunt... especially if that's what Vought tells you. [He doesn't know why he even bothers. Homelander is made for one thing and he's not likely to break it, especially when he's young and dumb and all he's known is Vogelbaum and press and people telling him what he needs to be and do.
Apparently, he's fallen short of expectations even then though.]
You ever want anything more than that? Being a supe in ball-crushing spandex?
[He grunts in response to that, because-- what else is there to say? He could tell him he's not the best. That he ends up broken and used up more than he already is, that all that love and admiration can change at the drop of a hat.
That he ends up fucking a Nazi of all things.
But this dumbarse isn't gonna listen. He's sipped too much of the kool-aid, Butcher thinks. Too high on being the best supe, whatever the fuck that means.
Done with one arm, he moves on to Homelander's chest, kneeling down on a knee in front of him to reach a little bit easier.]
[He breathes out slowly, gaze darting to meet Billy's before slipping back down. There's a lingering discomfort, like he said the wrong thing, or wasn't entirely truthful.
It's just that... whatever else he might want is so outside his reach he doesn't even know how to talk about it. It'd be better if he didn't want it at all.
He pulls his shoulders back a bit, to ease Billy's access to the cuts.]
[There's a moment's pause and a light frown, as he thinks about it.]
I... suppose I feel bad about the ones I killed without meaning to.
[The few he killed intentionally had it coming, as far as he's concerned.]
Hardly knew them, though.
[He gets nightmares sometimes, about the people he killed when he was very small and barely comprehended it. But they're mostly just phantom feelings -- screams and blood and broken flesh.]
[He nods absently at that, wondering how much to believe it. Same guy who lets a plane crash full of people in the future, same guy he's seen take lives before. But right now, he wants to insist he feels bad? Fine.]
Well, you're just in luck... You're in the one place you're being offered penance for all those dirty little sins you'll feel bad about.
[He shrugs as he returns to cleaning, working his way from Homelander's chest to his stomach.]
[Well, he said he felt bad, not that he felt guilty. He's not some dumb little Catholic boy looking for a cross to nail himself to. That's just pathetic.
He has no interest in penance, especially when it comes in the form of torture rooms narrated by smarmy assholes.
He open his mouth to try and offer a rebuttal, but instead he clamps it shuts again after a dab to his stomach prompts a small flinch and an aborted sound. It's getting harder to concentrate the farther down Billy goes; his breath is growing shallower, skin feeling heated and not just from the constant irritation.
It's not that this is enjoyable, exactly, but it's... something.]
Although can't imagine why you'd want to impress that old cunt up there. How's he any better when he's letting wee little kiddies die of cancer, turning a blind eye to all the abuse and rape and murder going all around. Sadistic, voyeuristic cunt, if you ask me.
[God's a fucking joke, if there really is one up there.
And if Butcher noticed the twitches, he doesn't seem to pay them any mind as he dabs each of these impressive little cuts clean, wiping away blood. Maybe he just doesn't care. Weird thing to get turned on about, but-- lad's young enough and formerly sheltered away from the shite that'd be bad for his image enough, it's not that surprising either.
He nudges at one of Homelander's knees to get him to part them a bit wider so he can get at his legs.]
[A blush is starting to burn up his cheeks as he parts his legs wider. He's not sure what it is his body is reacting to: the prolonged touch, being paid close attention to, this whole weird sinning talk, or being nearly naked around Billy. Either way, it's a little uncomfortable, especially since his underwear is too tight to hide much.]
...Yeah.
[Both to needing a shower and to God being a cunt. If he exists, then he's the one who made them what they are, isn't he? It doesn't give him much of a moral high ground to pass judgment from.]
What's yours look like? [He flinches.] I mean--your list.
[There's an arched eyebrow at Homelander's question at first, a tease on the tip of his tongue. At his current position and where he is? There's no way in fucking hell he couldn't see how hard Homelander is starting to get.
If Billy were a decent man, he wouldn't throw the cotton ball in the trash and move his hands to Homelander's thighs, careful of those cuts as he can be as he looks up.]
You can see it later. [Lots of murder and lying and-- shit he doesn't really care if Homelander sees or not. Nothing that will traumatize the lad too much, he'd think. But really, it's mostly that he's a bit distracted now.]
But Billy isn't exactly a hard lay to get, even if he knows full and well he should be thinking twice here. His hands graze a little higher on Homelander's thighs as he tips his head, meeting his eyes.]
Sounds like a good idea... But you're still a wee bit overdressed for that...
[Homelander lets out a breath, feeling a pang of disappointment when Billy releases his hold on him.
But then he's up on his feet, eager to comply as soon as he's given an assignment. He steps into the shower and turns the tap on, staying out of the stream as he watches Billy undress.
It's not like he hasn't seen his housemate without his clothes before; Billy sleeps in the nude, and the walls can get awfully thin when you've got X-ray vision. But this is... different. Special. Something he's been invited into.
...Fuck.
He keeps the briefs on, even if it means getting them wet. He's not trying to be difficult, it's just that--Billy should get to do the honors.]
[... If he knew that little perv was watching him through the walls, there'd probably be a crowbar upside his head instead. Not that Billy cares if Homelander sees his cock when he's stumbling out of his room and heading for the bathroom, but there's a slight difference.
But right now, he's shedding his clothes without hesitation. The shirt's tossed in the hamper, the rest follows until he's standing there in all his glory, scars and all - maybe just a little hard, himself. This is exciting in a really fucked up way.]
Really, John? [He shakes his head as he steps into the shower and reaches down to hook a finger in the waistband of his briefs -- before giving the elastic a little snap.]
Shy? [Whether he is or not, Billy's shoving at the now wet fabric.]
[Shy might not be the exact word, but for all that he's made for public consumption, this part of him has always meant to be concealed. He gives a bashful, slightly crooked grin at the teasing, the tension in his body evident as Billy pushes his underwear down, making his cock bounce against his stomach before standing at full attention.]
You like it?
[He tries to push his well-polished cockiness to the forefront, but the waver of uncertainty behind it is easy to hear. All of his physical attributes are supposed to approximate human perfection... but there's no accounting for taste, and he's never gotten the impression that perfection is quite Billy's thing.]
[He almost wants to point out he's seen it before -- and maybe add in a jab or two about how underwhelming it is, how that spandex must be pretty fucking padded. But he'll save the belittling for later, he supposes. Homelander's tense enough as it is.]
Never had complaints about it before. [He's crowding in to Homelander's space, eyes darting down between them to give a shameless look over. His hands slide to Homelander's hips then, stroking over his skin soothingly.
... At least the cuts didn't get anywhere too sensitive from the looks of it. They can still have a little fun.]
Now I'm curious... [His hand slides forward to rest at the top of Homelander's thigh, avoiding brushing his cock.]
[Oh... right. He's almost forgotten that this isn't a first for Billy. That he's already been with a different version of him.
There's no reason for that to bother him... but his shoulders slump a little all the same.
The hands at his hips help distract him, the sensation soothingly pleasant. His head tips forward towards Billy, his gaze drifting down to his abdomen, lips parting in a shallow breath.]
No.
[His voice is quiet and a little hoarse, like he's admitting to a deficiency.]
...Not like that.
[He's undergone inspections, obviously. But that's hardly the same thing, or the sort of memory he wants to bring to the surface.]
... That sort of lets Butcher know right then and there this isn't going to last long. Although maybe there's a thrill that he's the first hand he's gonna have on him. Something he can hold over Homelander's head for a long time, maybe.]
Well, don't worry. I'll make sure this is memorable for you, lad.
[He lowers his voice as he lifts one hand to tilt Homelander's face towards his. Traces his thumb along his lower lip.]
Saw lust on your list. Who've you been thinking about when you're all alone?
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He's not sure whether to be impressed or shake his head at the dumb cunt for holding out that long. Or maybe just irritated because this is going to take a while to clean up.]
That's quite a fucking list you got there, innit? Not sure poor performance counts as a sin though.
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It does when you're me.
[It's certainly what Vogelbaum used to chastise him for the most. Poor performance, poor control, not trying hard enough, not appreciating the gifts he'd been given.]
My first official mission didn't go well. Thought I'd told you that.
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Apparently, he's fallen short of expectations even then though.]
You ever want anything more than that? Being a supe in ball-crushing spandex?
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I'm not just a supe. [And his balls are fine, dammit.] I'm supposed to be the best of them.
[He's meant to become the world's greatest hero, an inspiration, admired and beloved by all. What more could he want?]
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That he ends up fucking a Nazi of all things.
But this dumbarse isn't gonna listen. He's sipped too much of the kool-aid, Butcher thinks. Too high on being the best supe, whatever the fuck that means.
Done with one arm, he moves on to Homelander's chest, kneeling down on a knee in front of him to reach a little bit easier.]
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It's just that... whatever else he might want is so outside his reach he doesn't even know how to talk about it. It'd be better if he didn't want it at all.
He pulls his shoulders back a bit, to ease Billy's access to the cuts.]
Thought you'd be more bothered by the murder.
[That's supposed to be the big one, as sins go.]
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[And Butcher's got quite a few counts on his. He's not going to sit around feeling bad about it. Not when a lot of it was deserved.]
We're in Hell, lad. You think people are gonna blink an eye at murder?
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I--I don't know.
Back home, if people knew the things I'd done, they'd want me destroyed.
[He'd be feared and detested by everyone -- he already got a taste of it.]
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[He ventures, pausing to look up at Homelander, arching a brow.]
The poor bastards you killed... they keep you up?
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I... suppose I feel bad about the ones I killed without meaning to.
[The few he killed intentionally had it coming, as far as he's concerned.]
Hardly knew them, though.
[He gets nightmares sometimes, about the people he killed when he was very small and barely comprehended it. But they're mostly just phantom feelings -- screams and blood and broken flesh.]
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Well, you're just in luck... You're in the one place you're being offered penance for all those dirty little sins you'll feel bad about.
[He shrugs as he returns to cleaning, working his way from Homelander's chest to his stomach.]
Old and new.
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He has no interest in penance, especially when it comes in the form of torture rooms narrated by smarmy assholes.
He open his mouth to try and offer a rebuttal, but instead he clamps it shuts again after a dab to his stomach prompts a small flinch and an aborted sound. It's getting harder to concentrate the farther down Billy goes; his breath is growing shallower, skin feeling heated and not just from the constant irritation.
It's not that this is enjoyable, exactly, but it's... something.]
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[God's a fucking joke, if there really is one up there.
And if Butcher noticed the twitches, he doesn't seem to pay them any mind as he dabs each of these impressive little cuts clean, wiping away blood. Maybe he just doesn't care. Weird thing to get turned on about, but-- lad's young enough and formerly sheltered away from the shite that'd be bad for his image enough, it's not that surprising either.
He nudges at one of Homelander's knees to get him to part them a bit wider so he can get at his legs.]
Think you'll need a shower after this, mate.
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...Yeah.
[Both to needing a shower and to God being a cunt. If he exists, then he's the one who made them what they are, isn't he? It doesn't give him much of a moral high ground to pass judgment from.]
What's yours look like? [He flinches.] I mean--your list.
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If Billy were a decent man, he wouldn't throw the cotton ball in the trash and move his hands to Homelander's thighs, careful of those cuts as he can be as he looks up.]
You can see it later. [Lots of murder and lying and-- shit he doesn't really care if Homelander sees or not. Nothing that will traumatize the lad too much, he'd think. But really, it's mostly that he's a bit distracted now.]
I need to check you out anywhere else, lad?
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[His blush deepens, heartbeat thundering in his ears. That's not an innocent question, is it? There's no way Billy isn't doing this on purpose.
He swallows, feeling entrapped by that gaze. His indecision only lasts a few moments.]
I--guess it can't hurt to be thorough.
Maybe... in the shower?
[Smooth. Fucking. Operator.]
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But Billy isn't exactly a hard lay to get, even if he knows full and well he should be thinking twice here. His hands graze a little higher on Homelander's thighs as he tips his head, meeting his eyes.]
Sounds like a good idea... But you're still a wee bit overdressed for that...
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He's feeling pretty fucking exposed, here.]
You plan to shower fully clothed?
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Never said that, did I? That eager to see me outta me clothes, huh?
[He reaches up to start working at a couple buttons on his shirt before giving Homelander a look.]
Why don't you get the water started for us, huh?
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But then he's up on his feet, eager to comply as soon as he's given an assignment. He steps into the shower and turns the tap on, staying out of the stream as he watches Billy undress.
It's not like he hasn't seen his housemate without his clothes before; Billy sleeps in the nude, and the walls can get awfully thin when you've got X-ray vision. But this is... different. Special. Something he's been invited into.
...Fuck.
He keeps the briefs on, even if it means getting them wet. He's not trying to be difficult, it's just that--Billy should get to do the honors.]
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But right now, he's shedding his clothes without hesitation. The shirt's tossed in the hamper, the rest follows until he's standing there in all his glory, scars and all - maybe just a little hard, himself. This is exciting in a really fucked up way.]
Really, John? [He shakes his head as he steps into the shower and reaches down to hook a finger in the waistband of his briefs -- before giving the elastic a little snap.]
Shy? [Whether he is or not, Billy's shoving at the now wet fabric.]
C'mon, let's see.
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You like it?
[He tries to push his well-polished cockiness to the forefront, but the waver of uncertainty behind it is easy to hear. All of his physical attributes are supposed to approximate human perfection... but there's no accounting for taste, and he's never gotten the impression that perfection is quite Billy's thing.]
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Never had complaints about it before. [He's crowding in to Homelander's space, eyes darting down between them to give a shameless look over. His hands slide to Homelander's hips then, stroking over his skin soothingly.
... At least the cuts didn't get anywhere too sensitive from the looks of it. They can still have a little fun.]
Now I'm curious... [His hand slides forward to rest at the top of Homelander's thigh, avoiding brushing his cock.]
Has anyone else touched you yet?
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There's no reason for that to bother him... but his shoulders slump a little all the same.
The hands at his hips help distract him, the sensation soothingly pleasant. His head tips forward towards Billy, his gaze drifting down to his abdomen, lips parting in a shallow breath.]
No.
[His voice is quiet and a little hoarse, like he's admitting to a deficiency.]
...Not like that.
[He's undergone inspections, obviously. But that's hardly the same thing, or the sort of memory he wants to bring to the surface.]
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... That sort of lets Butcher know right then and there this isn't going to last long. Although maybe there's a thrill that he's the first hand he's gonna have on him. Something he can hold over Homelander's head for a long time, maybe.]
Well, don't worry. I'll make sure this is memorable for you, lad.
[He lowers his voice as he lifts one hand to tilt Homelander's face towards his. Traces his thumb along his lower lip.]
Saw lust on your list. Who've you been thinking about when you're all alone?
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