It's not what-- you're not trying to fuck some cunt in a sex club?
[Speaking of-- he'd been trying to be nice. But it never takes much to piss Butcher off on a good day, does it? When she bites down, his hand is tangling into her hair and giving a rough pull.]
[Fortunately, the succubus doesn't take a chunk of Homelander's flesh with her as she's pulled off of him, though blood seeps out of the puncture wounds. She hisses indignantly at Billy, then looks back at her prey, who, finally remembering his superpowers, flashes a pair of red eyes back at her as a feeble warning.
There's a scoff, and then she's off, disappearing back into the drowsy crowd, leaving behind one pissed off Brit and one awkwardly horny superhero.]
...I wasn't gonna fuck her.
[It's almost true. At least, he badly wants to believe it.]
[Maybe losing a chunk would have served him right for being a dumbarse and going where he was warned not to. But all he's got is a nice, deep bite that Butcher can patch up later.]
Yeah? You were doing a very shite job of telling her that.
[It's not almost true. Homelander looks half out of his mind.]
[And now that she'd gone, he's already missing the skin-to-skin contact that felt like a salve for his condition. Getting up without calling attention to his erection is an awkward affair, and he's not entirely stead on his feet, his blood pumping too fast and too hot in his veins.]
...Going where?
[He sounds like he's half-expecting to spend the night in horny jail.]
[He doesn't really grab Homelander gently. His hand grips tight around his jaw as he leans in close enough to kiss. Not that he does. Homelander's not earned that after this little fucking show.]
To a back room, love. You want to play? Well, all you had to do was ask, hey?
[He should be glad Butcher isn't finding him a nice wee little cage to spend the night in, honestly.]
[A choked, pitiful sound loosens from his throat when Billy grabs hold of him, and Homelander wants to kiss or lick or bite him, to rub against him, to drown in his musk -- but he forces himself not to do anything. He has to prove he's in control.
He hardly feels like he is. He stumbles along, overheated, half-blind with need, breathing roughly and straining to keep himself in check as he follows Billy... fuck, anywhere. A piss-stinking alley or a fucking utility closet for all he cares, just as long as they get there soon.]
[Don't worry. Tonight isn't a piss-stinking alley kinda nice. No-- he gets them a room in the back and leads the way directly there, locks them away. He doesn't care right now if they did have an audience really...
Part of him wants to put his marks back after all, make sure everybody knows whether they fuck Homelander or not, Billy's got his claim on the fucking cunt anyway. Maybe he fools himself into thinking his claim is any more important than anyone else's, but...
Fuck it. HL isn't giving him any reason to doubt it at the moment, following him like an overeager puppy.]
Now then... what do we say for being a bloody idiot and ignoring sound advice, love?
[He wants to start stripping down as soon as they're alone, even before Billy locks the door behind them, but he forces himself to stand with his back straight and his hands clasped behind him.
There's a clench in the muscles of his neck and jaw, a series of small, twitching expressions on his face; he breathes through frustration, trying to compose himself, smothering an ember of defiance before he casts his gaze downwards.]
I'm sorry, Billy.
[It's a quiet, breathless mumble that sounds reasonably contrite, or at least subdued. It's just... hard to string together any kind of defense or explanation for his behavior when at least 95% of his thoughts are currently concentrated in his dick.]
[Well, that was a remarkably easy apology, with no grumbling or excuses. It earns Billy stepping into his space as he shrugs out of his coat, tosses it on a nearby chair.]
There's a good lad.
[The words are murmured as he reaches out to grasp at Homelander's jaw again, holding him steady as he goes for a rough kiss. Nothing too deep yet. But he does end it with a sharp bite to his lower lip.]
[Well, so much for exercising self-control. With Billy this close -- every breath filling his nostrils with that strong, undeniable scent -- it's fucking impossible to keep his hands to himself. At they kiss, his hands move to Billy's waist, holding on to him a little too firmly -- a hoarse, needy sound jamming in his throat at the bite.]
No. I--I don't want anyone else.
[He didn't come here looking to fuck, really. He didn't have much of an objective in mind. He was just... bored. Tired of the same-old-routine, of being expected to behave himself.
[The firm grasp his him grunting out. Much as he might not mind a mark or two, he hasn't quite forgotten he's dealing with a supe here. Last fucking thing he wants is anything broken because Homelander can't control himself.]
Loosen up, love. [He murmurs, giving him a push back towards the bed.]
[Loosen up isn't really on the menu at the moment, but he does at least loosen his grip to avoid damaging Billy, dropping his hands to his sides as he drops down to sit on the side of the bed.]
I, uh--
Tell me what to do and I'll do it.
[Whatever it is. He's almost too fucking eager to prove himself.]
[There's a grin that comes to his lips as he takes a step back, idly looking around the room. There's always extras in these places, yeah? Some fun odds and ends, something to spice things up.]</small.
Be a good lad and close your eyes after. Got a wee surprise for you.
[It's all too easy to follow those instructions. He sheds his shirt, unbuttons, unzips, and manages to actually tear his jeans in his eagerness to get them off. At least his briefs make it off intact. He gets down on his knees, back straight and cock standing at attention, obviously relieved to be released from its containment.
He shoots Billy a quick tentative look before doing as he's told and shutting his eyes, mindlessly licking his lips as his heart thrums in nervous excitement.]
[Oh, there's an approving noise when Homelander so easily obliges that demand, knelt naked for him on the floor. He gathers a few items up and puts them close enough.]
You look good like this, John. If you wanted to go have a little fun, you know-- all you had to do was say. I'd have taken you.
[He steps close enough to let his fingertips brush along Homelander's jaw, dip down his neck.]
[It's fucking intoxicating, being this exposed in Billy's presence, knowing he's being watched and appraised and... wanted?
A blush warms the tips of his ears, his lips parted with breath coming in hot and shallow. He doesn't know why he didn't ask Billy to bring him here -- was he worried he'd say no? Trying to prove he could be independent, a grown-up man?
It doesn't fucking matter now, anyway. He moves, without conscious thought, towards the touch of Billy's fingers, wanting to drink it in -- and then his mouth twitches incredulously at the suggestion, and he nearly blinks his eyes open.]
[Well, that's a fucking insult to the likes of Terror, who would never wander off without Butcher's approval, innit?]
Not like a dog, love.
[His fingers trace over his skin lightly, nothing vicious about it yet.]
More like a wee little reminder that you're fucking well claimed and I've no intention of letting you go, no matter who you fuck on the side.
[It's a bit fucked up. He knows it is. This man helped ruin his life, whether he remembers it or not. Somewhere along the way, hatred and anger got all twisted up into-- whatever they've got not.
But Billy has lost everything else in his life so far and he's not inclined to let this one last thing wander off, no matter how demented of a cunt it makes him, how many more sins it'll jam on to his list.]
It shoots right into his heart and stomach, burrowing deep inside him like a parasite. He can't tell if it's a threat or a promise, and that makes it all the weightier. He thinks he'd like it to be both.
His throat moves as he swallows, before jerking his head in a short nod.]
Okay.
[The word sounds dry and muted, as if spoken by someone outside him, but it's not because he doesn't mean it. He just... never got the sense anyone actually wanted to claim him, outside of the few useful tricks he can do.]
[It's both, more of one or the other depending on his mood and the day and how fucking frustrating John decides to be. Right now, his irritation is accented with the aphrodisiacs in the air, making this need coil deep in his gut that makes him want to take as much of Homelander as he possibly can.
At least he doesn't have a knife back out, right? His arse is safe from more signatures for now.
But there is a rather sturdy collar slipped around his neck after a bit. There's a quiet chuckle as he gives it a bit of a tug, testing. Something simple, black leather. Maybe he'll get him something a little more personal later on.]
[Well, he can open his eyes, sure, but that doesn't really help him see what the collar looks like. He thinks he likes the feel of it, at least, and he definitely liked the feeling of Billy putting it on him.]
Does it look good on me?
[He tries to flash a cocky smile, but it wavers with how flushed and off-center he's feeling.]
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[Speaking of-- he'd been trying to be nice. But it never takes much to piss Butcher off on a good day, does it? When she bites down, his hand is tangling into her hair and giving a rough pull.]
Oi, I said get off!
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There's a scoff, and then she's off, disappearing back into the drowsy crowd, leaving behind one pissed off Brit and one awkwardly horny superhero.]
...I wasn't gonna fuck her.
[It's almost true. At least, he badly wants to believe it.]
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Yeah? You were doing a very shite job of telling her that.
[It's not almost true. Homelander looks half out of his mind.]
Get up. We're going.
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She was--very persistent.
[And now that she'd gone, he's already missing the skin-to-skin contact that felt like a salve for his condition. Getting up without calling attention to his erection is an awkward affair, and he's not entirely stead on his feet, his blood pumping too fast and too hot in his veins.]
...Going where?
[He sounds like he's half-expecting to spend the night in
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To a back room, love. You want to play? Well, all you had to do was ask, hey?
[He should be glad Butcher isn't finding him a nice wee little cage to spend the night in, honestly.]
C'mon, follow along then.
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He hardly feels like he is. He stumbles along, overheated, half-blind with need, breathing roughly and straining to keep himself in check as he follows Billy... fuck, anywhere. A piss-stinking alley or a fucking utility closet for all he cares, just as long as they get there soon.]
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Part of him wants to put his marks back after all, make sure everybody knows whether they fuck Homelander or not, Billy's got his claim on the fucking cunt anyway. Maybe he fools himself into thinking his claim is any more important than anyone else's, but...
Fuck it. HL isn't giving him any reason to doubt it at the moment, following him like an overeager puppy.]
Now then... what do we say for being a bloody idiot and ignoring sound advice, love?
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There's a clench in the muscles of his neck and jaw, a series of small, twitching expressions on his face; he breathes through frustration, trying to compose himself, smothering an ember of defiance before he casts his gaze downwards.]
I'm sorry, Billy.
[It's a quiet, breathless mumble that sounds reasonably contrite, or at least subdued. It's just... hard to string together any kind of defense or explanation for his behavior when at least 95% of his thoughts are currently concentrated in his dick.]
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There's a good lad.
[The words are murmured as he reaches out to grasp at Homelander's jaw again, holding him steady as he goes for a rough kiss. Nothing too deep yet. But he does end it with a sharp bite to his lower lip.]
Have you fucked anyone else yet?
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No. I--I don't want anyone else.
[He didn't come here looking to fuck, really. He didn't have much of an objective in mind. He was just... bored. Tired of the same-old-routine, of being expected to behave himself.
Tired of the fucking dreams, too.]
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Loosen up, love. [He murmurs, giving him a push back towards the bed.]
Well, that's sweet, innit? [Doesn't want anyone else, huh?]
How are you willing to prove it?
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I, uh--
Tell me what to do and I'll do it.
[Whatever it is. He's almost too fucking eager to prove himself.]
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[There's a grin that comes to his lips as he takes a step back, idly looking around the room. There's always extras in these places, yeah? Some fun odds and ends, something to spice things up.]</small. Be a good lad and close your eyes after. Got a wee surprise for you.
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He shoots Billy a quick tentative look before doing as he's told and shutting his eyes, mindlessly licking his lips as his heart thrums in nervous excitement.]
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You look good like this, John. If you wanted to go have a little fun, you know-- all you had to do was say. I'd have taken you.
[He steps close enough to let his fingertips brush along Homelander's jaw, dip down his neck.]
Maybe what you need is a collar, yeah?
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A blush warms the tips of his ears, his lips parted with breath coming in hot and shallow. He doesn't know why he didn't ask Billy to bring him here -- was he worried he'd say no? Trying to prove he could be independent, a grown-up man?
It doesn't fucking matter now, anyway. He moves, without conscious thought, towards the touch of Billy's fingers, wanting to drink it in -- and then his mouth twitches incredulously at the suggestion, and he nearly blinks his eyes open.]
Like--like a dog?
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Not like a dog, love.
[His fingers trace over his skin lightly, nothing vicious about it yet.]
More like a wee little reminder that you're fucking well claimed and I've no intention of letting you go, no matter who you fuck on the side.
[It's a bit fucked up. He knows it is. This man helped ruin his life, whether he remembers it or not. Somewhere along the way, hatred and anger got all twisted up into-- whatever they've got not.
But Billy has lost everything else in his life so far and he's not inclined to let this one last thing wander off, no matter how demented of a cunt it makes him, how many more sins it'll jam on to his list.]
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It shoots right into his heart and stomach, burrowing deep inside him like a parasite. He can't tell if it's a threat or a promise, and that makes it all the weightier. He thinks he'd like it to be both.
His throat moves as he swallows, before jerking his head in a short nod.]
Okay.
[The word sounds dry and muted, as if spoken by someone outside him, but it's not because he doesn't mean it. He just... never got the sense anyone actually wanted to claim him, outside of the few useful tricks he can do.]
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At least he doesn't have a knife back out, right? His arse is safe from more signatures for now.
But there is a rather sturdy collar slipped around his neck after a bit. There's a quiet chuckle as he gives it a bit of a tug, testing. Something simple, black leather. Maybe he'll get him something a little more personal later on.]
You can look, John.
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Does it look good on me?
[He tries to flash a cocky smile, but it wavers with how flushed and off-center he's feeling.]
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[He reassures as he takes a step in close, tangles his fingers through the other's hair. Fingertips rub against his scalp.]
But I'm not certain you've learned your lesson, lad.
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Then teach me.
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[He huffs out a chuckle.]
Don't want you crying to tap out after we start...