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“I’ll suck your fucking dick, please!”
Butcher expected many things when he got into the Oval Office. He expected the plan to go to shit, or perhaps the sudden, violent end of his own life at the hands of a 'God.' He had prepared for a thousand different ways to die, but he hadn't prepared for this.
The moment those words left Homelander’s mouth, Butcher blinked, taken aback as his expression turned into mild confusion. Though he would be lying if he said it didn’t make a conflicted surge of emotions go through him at the sight. Homelander stripped of his godhood, reduced to something so pathetic.
Homelander saw the hesitation. He saw the flicker of doubt in Butcher’s eyes, and a tiny, desperate spark of that childish, naive hope swelled in his chest. He decided to double down, to throw away every shred of his pride if it meant surviving the next ten minutes.
“I’ll fucking choke on it— fuck, I swear I’ll do anything you want me to!” Homelander’s voice had never been this whiny. He clasped his hands together in a begging position, his entire frame trembling.
For a single second, Butcher’s mind drifted to Becca. He wondered what she would think, seeing him stand there, hesitating instead of bashing this manchild’s head into the desk.
'Ah, fuck it,'
Butcher glanced away for a second before huffing, a smirk forming on his face, taunting. He hated the next words that came out of his mouth—
“All right, mate. Don't get your panties in a twist," Butcher drawled, his voice dripping with a mocking, casual warmth. He began to circle the blond Supe, Homelander’s head whipped around, his eyes wide and panicked, his breath coming in shallow, jagged gasps as he tracked Butcher’s every movement. "Make me shoot semen all over your pretty, fucked up face, and maybe..." He trailed off, casting a faux curious, gaze. " ....we'll think about the maybe later.."
Homelander’s expression lit up with both hope and humiliation. The humiliation, though, was overshadowed by the thought of surviving. His thoughts drifted elsewhere, already imagining himself leaving in one piece. Maybe... maybe he could find some Compound V after this. Maybe he could find a way to—
“Chop chop, son. Don’t make me change my mind here.”
The sharp sound of Butcher unzipping his trousers snapped Homelander out of his thoughts. He didn't– couldn't stand. Instead, he began to crawl toward Butcher, his knees scraping against the carpet. His eyes never left Butcher’s face, terrified that a single blink would get him killed.
Butcher allowed himself to get rid of those guilt-ridden thoughts at the sight of Homelander. The Homelander. Crawling toward him all beaten up and bloodied, looked almost unreal. The man who had spent years acting like a God was now dragging himself across the floor in front of him, all pathetic. He was barely holding himself together.
Homelander broke eye contact to stare at Butcher’s now exposed boxers. He was eye to eye with his, well, bulge.
“This is not real... this is not happening...” he whispered to himself in denial, yet his hands moved too quickly to pull the underwear down. ... Maybe if he did good enough, he could walk out of here alive. He just had to be quick before the fucker in front of him changed his mind and decided there wasn’t any reason to let him leave at all.
Homelander let out an offended gasp as Butcher’s half-hard cock slapped against his cheek, earning a genuine chuckle from the man above him.
“Ain’t my fault,” he muttered smugly. Though, as Homelander stared, paralyzed for a moment by the sheer degradation of it all. Butcher’s patience snapped. He didn't have time for a superhero's existential crisis. Butcher’s hand shot out, fingers tangling brutally into Homelander’s blond hair, shoving his face forward. A sharp whimper escaped the supe which made Butcher’s cock twitch.
Homelander gripped his hips, fingers digging into the flesh, he managed to pull his head back slightly, just enough to look up at him pathetically.
“You... you won’t kill me after this, right? Right? You—”
Butcher didn't answer with words. He groaned in annoyance and shoved himself forcefully into Homelander’s mouth. Homelander gagged instantly, his throat bulging as he struggled to breathe. His eyes widening in pure shock.
"Fuck, you're finally useful for some fuckin' shit, huh?" Butcher grinned, his grip tightening on the hair, pulling Homelander back just to slam him forward. Homelander’s eyes filled with tears once again, his hands weakly pushing against Butcher’s thighs as he struggled to get air into his lungs.
“Ah, ah, ah. We had an agreement, didn’t we? No takies backies.” Butcher cooed sweetly. He began a punishing rhythm, his breathing growing heavy as he drove himself into the mouth of the man who once thought he was a God.
Homelander, on the other hand, couldn’t breathe at all, he was starting to get light headed. He gripped Butcher’s hips tightly, eyes unfocused and glassy as he made choked sounds around the girth. The blond was drooling all over himself, his teeth grazing over the cock, but Butcher found himself not minding it at all. It just made his cock twitch in Homelander's throat, making the guy beneath him whine.
Butcher groaned loudly as he slammed his hips once again into Homelander’s mouth. “You see how my Becca felt now? How does it feel, you cunt?!” he growled, his expression twisting in anger as his movements became even more aggressive, abusing his mouth.
Homelander could barely keep his eyes open, his vision blurring with tears and the frantic effort of not choking to death. He let out a high, broken whine. Then, a flash of movement caught the corner of his eye the small, blinking red light of a camera on the floor. His heart dropped straight to his ass – the entire world was watching. Everyone. The fans, the supporters, the believers, everyone was seeing their golden boy reduced to a drooling animal. He stared into the lens, his eyes glassy and wide with utter humiliation. He has never felt this helpless before.
Butcher was getting close. He hated to admit that seeing Homelander in this exact position was utterly, overwhelmingly arousing. Sure, the lack of attention on him wasn’t pleasant, but he could always train him.
Train him?
No. This was a one-time thing. He would kill Homelander after this.
A choked groan escaped Butcher, and Homelander was brought back to reality by something cold hitting the back his throat, making him gag violently. Butcher shuddered above him, a shuddering exhale escaping him. Homelander’s eyes widened in panic as he gagged and gasped, literally choking on his cum. It spilled from the sides of his mouth.
Butcher released him with a shuddering gasp, eyes briefly unfocused as he caught his breath. Then his gaze locked back in, unblinking. Homelander was on his hands and knees, coughing hard, he gagged violently but didn't throw up. Just dry heaving on the ground.
What now?
“You— you fucking— I hate you!” Homelander yelled in that whiny voice of his even as he backed away, his expression twisted in childish anger, his bottom lip trembled violently as he let out hitching breaths.
Butcher didn’t feel satisfied. He didn’t feel anything, actually. Watching as Homelander cried, curled up on the floor. He looked broken, well, Butcher couldn't care less, he still wanted to kill the man, - but just not right now. A lot has happened and Butcher needed a second to process this. Without another word, he just zipped his pants up and left the room without a second glance.