[Ohhh fuck. Billy clearly does know what he's doing. Homelander goes rigid at the words and at the touch, and a cut-off moan slips out of his throat only to be captured by Billy's mouth. It's like he's engulfed by flame, but on the inside of his skin.
It must be impossible to be as hard as he is, and Billy's hand is like a finger squeezing a trigger.
He's lucky he doesn't come on the spot.]
...Show me. [After a shallow breath, he tacks on a hoarse, quiet:] Please.
[There's something-- hot about this. The way Homelander goes awkward, like he's not quite sure what to actually do, the way he seems to trust Billy knowing just what to do to make him come apart.
One would be mad to think there's not a part of Butcher wanting to absolutely take advantage of that, see how far he can take it and twist it, until this young and fresh lad can't think of anyone else.
For right now, he'll settle for jerking him off in a shower though. He strokes him slow and firm, lets his thumb play over the head of his cock as he trails from his mouth. Teeth nip along Homelander's jaw before his lips move to his neck.]
[There have been fleeting moments when Homelander wondered whether he should trust a complete stranger, especially one with a lack of love for supes and a grudge against Vought -- his makers, his future.
This isn't one of those moments.
Right now, only him and Billy exist in the world, and he couldn't give less of a fuck about anything or anyone else. Vought and its all-seeing eye included.
He holds his hands flat against the wall, afraid of what he might do with them; his breath turns panting, stomach taut, jaw straining as he futilely tries to hold back the small whines and groans that keep breaking out of his throat.
A hot shiver runs through him, cock to toes, at that mercilessly light rub of Billy's thumb.]
Oh--oh--fuck--sorry--
[His voice cracks, the back of his head thumping back against the wall and denting the panel as he comes in Billy's fist, in just a few hot, rough spurts.]
[Should he trust Butcher? Maybe, maybe not. It's a-- complicated situation and Butcher's feelings are twisted on the matter. This bloke helped to ruin his life, but-- somewhere along the way, Homelander's become something he considers firmly his... even this wee lad coming in his hand after they just barely got started.
His.
One thing is for certain -- no one is going to kill him unless it's Butcher. Or maybe they'll just kill each other. He thinks he'd be just fine with that, oddly enough.
Just not right now. Lips curl up in half a sneer.]
Huh. Well, well. You weren't pulling me leg about being new at this, were you, love?
[He pulls away enough to let some of the water wash the cum off his hand and anywhere else it splattered.]
[You know-- he'd expected defensiveness or maybe anger at being called out. He didn't expect Homelander to act like a kicked puppy, or that sorry, sir. That's--
He doesn't like that, surprisingly. Maybe he would under other circumstances, but here, it just feels bloody awkward.
He shushes him quietly, tips Homelander's head back to kiss him. Hopefully that shuts him up before any real waterworks start.]
Stop the fucking apologies. Like you're the only lad to spill his load the first time someone grabs his cock.
[He doesn't have a clue how long he's meant to last the first time, but he can tell when a performance is lackluster. Still, the kiss loosens the strain from his shoulders, making him breathe a little easier.
[He shifts up a little bit to nip at Homelander's earlobe before he speaks quietly in his ear.]
Maybe I won't let you come until I'm done with you next time... until you can't stand it. [Give him a whole new reason to cry... maybe see if he can get a please, sir next.]
[Saliva builds thick in his throat, goosebumps running down his back. His barely caught breath grows heavier, and even though he's just come, there's still a painful twitch in his cock at that--promise?]
[Jesus, this guy needs to work on his lines, just a little bit. HE shakes his head, lips curling up in a wry smile before he reaches up to go through his hair-- giving it a bit of a tug.]
Mm.
[He chuckles quietly before stepping back and looking Homelander over. At least the blood's washed off by now, and any evidence of what they just did.]
Maybe you can come to bed with me tonight.
[He hasn't exactly invited Homelander back, young as he is, but-- what's the fucking point in pretending he's any sort of saint now? Never suited him, and Homelander is-- still fucking Homelander, just not with quite the same sins to his name yet.]
[The kiss catches him off guard -- mostly because they don't generally kiss like that. Not soft and sweet, and he can't remember the last time Homelander's ever smiled quite like that.
At least in a way that feels like maybe it's actually genuine.
It's weird as fuck-- enough that Butcher isn't sure if he should scoff and tell him to knock it off or just... nudge Homelander lightly before he reaches for the knobs to cut the water.]
Right, then. Let's get out.
[He tells himself it's just easier to tolerate this shite. He knows how they reared Homelander up into the monster... it'll get him more loyal if Butcher gives him a little bit of softness instead of just the punishments. Not that he's entirely sure he's capable of soft anymore.
It's probably just a matter of time until his own monsters come out to play again.]
[He kind of expected Butcher to play it cool -- sweet and cuddly just isn't his style and Homelander respects that -- but he'll take what he can get.
He has to get his stupid fucking briefs all the way off before stepping out of the shower, throwing them in the hamper and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.
When he opens the bathroom door, there's a very distressed-looking squonk behind it.]
Sorry, Princess.
[He pats the crying creature on the head a few times until it calms down, before glancing back at Billy.]
[He isn't the type of guy to go for sweet and cuddly, no. Best Homelander can hope for is Butcher not being a total fucking cunt on occasion.
He wraps a towel around himself when he's out as well, giving a huff at the squonk still whining at the door.]
You've spoiled her, y'know.
[Like he hasn't Terror...
At the question, he lets out a grunt and nods down the hall.]
It's in me room.
[Way he sees it, Homelander will probably see it one day. Might as well be under a controlled circumstance than before the devil asks one of them to dip their bollocks in acid or go carving off flesh.]
Just don't get weird about it. I'll-- try to fucking explain if you've got questions.
[He doubts there's anything he could do to toughen her up. She needs a bit of attention and reassurance every now and then.
Not that Homelander can relate to that or anything.
He goes into Billy's room, settling into his bed once he's located the list.
Anger, violence, murder... those are all easy enough to imagine. Billy isn't the chillest guy around. There are a few items he lingers on with mild discomfort, but mostly curiosity. He takes it all in stride until...]
[He smiles a bit. It's pretty rare to get a laugh out of Butcher, so he'll take it -- even if it's at his expense.
Fuck those pelicans anyway. They were really clogging up the sky.]
Mm.
So much for going around the world in 80 seconds.
[He puts the list down on the bedside table and turns towards Billy, taking a moment to just breathe him in, fresh from the shower but still smelling very... Butchery. It makes Homelander want to lick him.
But, he probably shouldn't.
...Not without permission, anyway.
Instead, he puts his hand on Billy's chest -- before glancing up to check if that's allowed.]
[Well, that's new, innit? He glances down at the hand on his chest before he shifts subtly, folding his arm behind his head and... giving Homelander a bit more room to stay close if he wants.
He can allow it, just this once.
As long as he doesn't get too ridiculous and cuddly. Not like the older him didn't try to use his lap as a pillow or lean on him often enough.]
He's quiet for a long moment, breathing slowly, listening to Billy's heartbeat, feeling the light sting of the fading cuts.]
I'm not supposed to want things for myself. [It's a belated answer to what Billy asked him before.] It's selfish. I'm supposed to... serve and protect and inspire, and all that.
[And anyway, Homelander fucking fails at a lot of that anyway, especially when he's from, doesn't he?
He shifts a little, careful to not dislodge Homelander from where he's settled though.]
They can't beat out all of human nature in you, lad, and wanting things... that's one of the most base urges. Fuck it, so's being selfish. [Maybe this cunt has a god complex, but he's not. So fucking far from it... so what's the point in keeping up the pretense?]
You got a chance here, y'know... to try to be more normal. You don't have to walk around in spandex, playing the fucking heroic supe all the time. You should take it before we're back where we came from.
[He wants to insist that he's not human, that he's practically a different species even if he looks like one of them... but he has a feeling Billy wouldn't take too kindly to that assertion.
But going by human standards, he's defective. Even more than he is by Vought standards.]
What if I'm not any good at normal? What if I'm just not... right?
[He's heard the doctors talking: unstable, deficient, violent, psychopathic...
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It must be impossible to be as hard as he is, and Billy's hand is like a finger squeezing a trigger.
He's lucky he doesn't come on the spot.]
...Show me. [After a shallow breath, he tacks on a hoarse, quiet:] Please.
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One would be mad to think there's not a part of Butcher wanting to absolutely take advantage of that, see how far he can take it and twist it, until this young and fresh lad can't think of anyone else.
For right now, he'll settle for jerking him off in a shower though. He strokes him slow and firm, lets his thumb play over the head of his cock as he trails from his mouth. Teeth nip along Homelander's jaw before his lips move to his neck.]
I will. Let me take care of it, lad.
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This isn't one of those moments.
Right now, only him and Billy exist in the world, and he couldn't give less of a fuck about anything or anyone else. Vought and its all-seeing eye included.
He holds his hands flat against the wall, afraid of what he might do with them; his breath turns panting, stomach taut, jaw straining as he futilely tries to hold back the small whines and groans that keep breaking out of his throat.
A hot shiver runs through him, cock to toes, at that mercilessly light rub of Billy's thumb.]
Oh--oh--fuck--sorry--
[His voice cracks, the back of his head thumping back against the wall and denting the panel as he comes in Billy's fist, in just a few hot, rough spurts.]
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His.
One thing is for certain -- no one is going to kill him unless it's Butcher. Or maybe they'll just kill each other. He thinks he'd be just fine with that, oddly enough.
Just not right now. Lips curl up in half a sneer.]
Huh. Well, well. You weren't pulling me leg about being new at this, were you, love?
[He pulls away enough to let some of the water wash the cum off his hand and anywhere else it splattered.]
Gonna have to work on that control of yours.
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His lip quivers, gaze sinking to the floor to avoid Billy's scorn.
Hold yourself together. Don't cry. Don't you fucking DARE cry.]
I--I'm sorry, Sir.
[The apology is hushed and thick in his throat, but those are well-practiced words.]
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He doesn't like that, surprisingly. Maybe he would under other circumstances, but here, it just feels bloody awkward.
He shushes him quietly, tips Homelander's head back to kiss him. Hopefully that shuts him up before any real waterworks start.]
Stop the fucking apologies. Like you're the only lad to spill his load the first time someone grabs his cock.
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He can look Billy in the eye, after that.]
I'll do better next time.
[...There's gonna be a next time, right?]
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[He shifts up a little bit to nip at Homelander's earlobe before he speaks quietly in his ear.]
Maybe I won't let you come until I'm done with you next time... until you can't stand it. [Give him a whole new reason to cry... maybe see if he can get a please, sir next.]
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--o-okay.
That sounds... great.
[Christ, he needs to keep his mouth shut.]
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Mm.
[He chuckles quietly before stepping back and looking Homelander over. At least the blood's washed off by now, and any evidence of what they just did.]
Maybe you can come to bed with me tonight.
[He hasn't exactly invited Homelander back, young as he is, but-- what's the fucking point in pretending he's any sort of saint now? Never suited him, and Homelander is-- still fucking Homelander, just not with quite the same sins to his name yet.]
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I'd like that.
[A lot, apparently. He's never shared a bed with anybody, and the invitation fills him with a strange, tingling warmth.
He steps forward, to press his lips softly to Billy's.]
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At least in a way that feels like maybe it's actually genuine.
It's weird as fuck-- enough that Butcher isn't sure if he should scoff and tell him to knock it off or just... nudge Homelander lightly before he reaches for the knobs to cut the water.]
Right, then. Let's get out.
[He tells himself it's just easier to tolerate this shite. He knows how they reared Homelander up into the monster... it'll get him more loyal if Butcher gives him a little bit of softness instead of just the punishments. Not that he's entirely sure he's capable of soft anymore.
It's probably just a matter of time until his own monsters come out to play again.]
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He has to get his stupid fucking briefs all the way off before stepping out of the shower, throwing them in the hamper and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.
When he opens the bathroom door, there's a very distressed-looking squonk behind it.]
Sorry, Princess.
[He pats the crying creature on the head a few times until it calms down, before glancing back at Billy.]
Hey... you said I could see your list?
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He wraps a towel around himself when he's out as well, giving a huff at the squonk still whining at the door.]
You've spoiled her, y'know.
[Like he hasn't Terror...
At the question, he lets out a grunt and nods down the hall.]
It's in me room.
[Way he sees it, Homelander will probably see it one day. Might as well be under a controlled circumstance than before the devil asks one of them to dip their bollocks in acid or go carving off flesh.]
Just don't get weird about it. I'll-- try to fucking explain if you've got questions.
[But no promises it'll be a good one.]
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[He doubts there's anything he could do to toughen her up. She needs a bit of attention and reassurance every now and then.
Not that Homelander can relate to that or anything.
He goes into Billy's room, settling into his bed once he's located the list.
Anger, violence, murder... those are all easy enough to imagine. Billy isn't the chillest guy around. There are a few items he lingers on with mild discomfort, but mostly curiosity. He takes it all in stride until...]
You killed a whale?
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[But that dumb cunt Deep shouldn't have put it in his way either.
He moves to sit on the other side of the bed, leaning back against the headrest.]
Sometimes shit happens, yeah?
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Aha. Sure thing, Ahab.
[He's not judging. He's killed his share of animals on accident, after all. Birds especially tend to get in the way.
Skewering a whale is just... pretty fucking far out there. Impressive, almost.]
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C'mon. I'm sure you've got an odd kill or two, yeah?
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Well, I... rammed into a flock of pelicans once.
[It made a hell of a mess, too.]
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The great Homelander, running into fucking pelicans.]
See? Like I said, shit happens.
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Fuck those pelicans anyway. They were really clogging up the sky.]
Mm.
So much for going around the world in 80 seconds.
[He puts the list down on the bedside table and turns towards Billy, taking a moment to just breathe him in, fresh from the shower but still smelling very... Butchery. It makes Homelander want to lick him.
But, he probably shouldn't.
...Not without permission, anyway.
Instead, he puts his hand on Billy's chest -- before glancing up to check if that's allowed.]
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He can allow it, just this once.
As long as he doesn't get too ridiculous and cuddly. Not like the older him didn't try to use his lap as a pillow or lean on him often enough.]
You getting tired, lad?
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[It's been an... eventful day.
He's quiet for a long moment, breathing slowly, listening to Billy's heartbeat, feeling the light sting of the fading cuts.]
I'm not supposed to want things for myself. [It's a belated answer to what Billy asked him before.] It's selfish. I'm supposed to... serve and protect and inspire, and all that.
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[And anyway, Homelander fucking fails at a lot of that anyway, especially when he's from, doesn't he?
He shifts a little, careful to not dislodge Homelander from where he's settled though.]
They can't beat out all of human nature in you, lad, and wanting things... that's one of the most base urges. Fuck it, so's being selfish. [Maybe this cunt has a god complex, but he's not. So fucking far from it... so what's the point in keeping up the pretense?]
You got a chance here, y'know... to try to be more normal. You don't have to walk around in spandex, playing the fucking heroic supe all the time. You should take it before we're back where we came from.
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But going by human standards, he's defective. Even more than he is by Vought standards.]
What if I'm not any good at normal? What if I'm just not... right?
[He's heard the doctors talking: unstable, deficient, violent, psychopathic...
Nobody's ever called him normal.]
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