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"Just tell me. I'll fucking suck your dick - I'll do anything"
Butcher suspected as much that Homelander was, inside, a pathetic, childish loser - He was just surprised he got to witness it with his own two eyes. He had expected more from such a theatrical man, but then again a Supe was all he was and had ever been - Without that the standards were set incredibly low.
"You want me to eat shit? I'll eat your fucking shit. I'll eat your fucking shit on live TV"
Evidently there was still room to sink lower.
Butcher creased his nose at the suggestion, looking down at Homelander who met his gaze halfway. The shit eating he could do without but the former was an alluring offer if not purely for the humiliation of such a sad, snivelling little man child. What a fucking pathetic creature he was, whinging and whining and bleeding all over himself - It was grotesque.
"Please William. I'll do anything. Just tell me what you want. I-"
Homelander pleaded, wiping at the blood dribbling from his nose into his mouth before a single, weak spark of hope crossed his face.
"I’ll let you fuck me - or- I’ll fuck you, if that’s what you want"
Tempting, but no.
Butcher just shook his head with a wry smile, raising the crowbar above his head causing Homelander to raise arms defensively above his.
"No wait!- Please!-’’
Butcher hesitated, watching Homelander cowering and shaking on his knees like a shitting dog in anticipation of the impending blow.
In the moment it was hard not to feel a little cheated. This was it was it? Un-fucking-believable really. He hadn’t anticipated just how easy this had all been. He had been in the presence of the world’s most impermeable man for no longer than 10 minutes and Homelander had already been reduced to this dribbling, pitiful sack of shite offering his useless body for his useless life with little to no resistance. Stripped of superhuman ability, Homelander appeared to have the strength and will of a palliative care patient. How many lives had Butcher ruined - including his own - to get here, only to be presented with this? This wasn't satisfying, it was pathetic.
The moral thing to do would be to crush his head like a dry walnut and be done with it, but Butcher wasn't above cruelty for cruelty's sake particularly in the name of vengeance, and there was no better recipient for such cruelty in this precise moment than Homelander. He’d regret not twisting the knife a little more if not just for the fun of it, and there was no time quite like the present.
Dropping his arms but still holding tightly to the crowbar for insurance purposes, Butcher bent down to Homelander’s level, his face close enough for Homelander to enjoy a light spray of spit as he spoke.
"Go on then son-’’
He chose not to elaborate any further. He intended on revelling in his delicious pain and suffering at the unknown prospect of it being any one of the presented options, and Homelander didn't disappoint - He looked completely terrified on his knees as he wiped his disgusting snotty nose on the back of his gloves. He looked at Butcher desperately although he said nothing further, presumably waiting for him to reveal it was all a big joke and there would be no cock sucking or shit eating required and that perhaps another mild beating would be satisfactory.
Butcher considered his options, contemplating whether he was seriously willing to sexually assault someone just for a laugh - He was self-admittedly as much of a nasty degenerate as Homelander however he liked to believe he was above rape considering what had happened to his poor Becca. She didn’t deserve a husband who did shit like that - She’d have never seen or spoken to him again if she knew he’d done something like that.
‘’Think-’’ Homelander finally broke the silence through a mouthful of bloody, bubbling saliva. “-Of Becca”.
Butcher had evidently been contemplating his options too long, giving Homelander a brief glimpse of hope that he was bluffing and there may be an opportunity to haggle what little dignity he left, even now when Butcher could so easily rip him elbow to asshole and wear him as a jacket.
With his confidence on life support but not yet deceased, Homelander carried on.
‘’-She wouldn’t want Ryan to grow up without his father’’
He was just about able to squeeze out a nasty little smile through a mouth full of wet, red teeth.
Butcher’s eyes darkened. Only a truly self-centered, narcissistic bellend would, in the throes of death, try his luck with a little emotional blackmail - The raw nastiness of it was almost admirable. If Homelander was still prepared to go out fighting, Butcher would only be happy to oblige. To think he’d almost considered throwing him a crumb of mercy - Homelander really was a fucking moron.
Dropping the crowbar Butcher grabbed the back of Homelander’s head, yanking him back by his hair and getting a satisfying little whine of pain in response. He had half a mind to rip his lovely hair clean off his scalp for talking absolute bollocks like that.
Butcher took the opportunity to get a nice, up close look at Homelander’s face - Close enough that he could see sweat start to bead at the pores of his forehead. There wasn’t a flicker of remorse in those evil little eyes, just stewing pits of regret for not being faster, smarter and stronger in the moments where it counted for him the most. He didn’t deserve any kindness.
Keeping Homelander firmly in place with one hand, Butcher pulled at his belt buckle with the other, ripping the belt from his waist as Homelander began writhing in his hands, grunting and groaning and grabbing at the lapels of his jacket.
"This- It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. You can’t do this to me!"
He really spat out that second ‘fair’ along with a nice long trail of bloody saliva which made contact with Butcher’s face and started running down his chin.
"We agreed we would end this as equals. Blood and bone and-" Homelander paused to swallow "-and whatever else I fucking said"
Butcher only clicked his tongue disapprovingly, shuffling his free hand around in his jeans before pulling out the main event in all its limp glory.
"You’re meant to be a man of his word - After all, you’re the Homelander"
Homelander’s eyes darted between Butcher’s face and waist, before crumpling into something resembling great pain as he was placed in the firing line of Butcher’s flaccid cock.
"You're fucking insane. You can't seriously want this?" He spat, both figuratively and literally.
"I'm no more mad than you are - C’mon son. I thought you wanted to live’’
Butcher was being rhetorical for dramatic effect, however he had been genuinely surprised Homelander had any interest at all in continuing on as a civilian should he live long enough to do so - Being the Homelander was the very essence of who he was, without that what else was there? Two seconds in the real world and he’d be torn apart and eaten alive - It all seemed a bit of a fruitless effort even trying but Butcher figured this is what true desperation looked like. Homelander might not be the Homelander anymore but he was still the same conceited, narcissistic little shit bag he always was, powers or not, and was as susceptible to the fear of death as any other ordinary person.
‘’If I were you-’’ Butcher suggested ‘’I’d bloody well get on with it’’
He gestured to the crowbar as a gentle reminder of the alternative should Homelander not comply. If Homelander waited any longer Butcher might come to the conclusion that actually this was a fucking horrible thing to do, and he wasn’t in the market to start regretting anything now so Homelander better suck it up and get moving.
Fearful of his own conscience catching up with him Butcher took the initiative, reaching down to curl his fingers around Homelander’s neck. He was going to choke the confidence right out of him if that’s what it took, as he tightened his grip as much as his hands would allow.
It’s surprisingly hard to choke someone, especially to the point of death. They make it look so easy on TV so it had taken Butcher by surprise just how exhausting the process was the first time he’d done it which is why he carried a gun. Blowing the back of someone’s brains out with a rifle was much more fun.
Revenge however was different. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a blowjob for a life and Homelander couldn't very well deliver that if he didn't have a head to do so.
Noticing Homelander had begun turning an interesting shade of blue, Butcher loosened the grip on his neck as he gasped great big gulps of air like he’d never be permitted to breathe again.
"I'll do it, ok?” Butcher was impressed he could speak at all.
“For fucks sake - I'll do it!" Homelander managed to spurt out in between gasps as Butcher released him and rose back up to his feet, cock still out.
Homelander had nowhere else to run to, nobody else to help him and no dignity left to lose. This was his only purpose now.
With a long, miserable exhale Homelander eventually submitted. He reached up slowly to grasp at Butcher’s cock with his wet glove before Butcher promptly grabbed his wrist, tightening his grip with an air of forewarning.
"Without the glove pal"
Homelander didn't bother objecting, lest he be throttled again. He removed both gloves and dropped them to the floor, revealing his pale hands underneath as he again reached up to gingerly grasp at Butcher’s cock and began the arduous process of pumping it back and forth apprehensively as though it would detonate on impact with pressure any greater than a mouse fart.
Butcher didn’t dare take his eyes off him - Homelander was still highly volatile and couldn’t be trusted with something so valuable. And who knew, maybe his powers would miraculously return and he’d laser his cock straight off, rip off his head and piss in the hole. Butcher would have done the same.
It was a dangerous game to be playing but to Butcher the spoils would be priceless.
It felt like an entire age had passed for Butcher to get a full erection with Homelander greasing it like he were trying to start a fire which wouldn’t have been wholly unpleasant if Homelander wasn’t such a sad sack of shite who acted as though he didn’t have decades of masturbatory experience under his belt, so for Butcher the poor performance felt personal.
He’d have been lucky to milk anything out of there with what he was doing and frankly, it was starting to piss Butcher off. He couldn’t afford the time it was lending him to reflect on what he was forcing him to do as, Homelander or not, he wasn’t proud of it.
Butcher pinched the skin of his brow.
‘’Alright love, we ain't got all day - You want a little kiss and a cuddle? Maybe finger your arsehole a bit?’’
He had intended that to sound jovial, but Homelander lay a desperate, wet eyed look on him which was difficult to discern as a desire to please or the fear of repercussion. Butcher had absolutely no intention of giving him any of those things. Those were reserved for nice people who did nice things for other nice people and both Butcher and Homelander were about as nice as the earth was flat.
Butcher bent down to hit Homelander’s hands away.
“Just get on with it-”
He said, his warm breath close enough to Homelander that he could taste the fear emanating from his sweaty temple.
“-and if you fuckin bite me I’ll punt your head right out that window’’
Homelander didn’t object, but he seemed intimidated as his eyes darted up and down the length of Butcher’s member. Butcher’s equipment was pretty standard issue by all accounts which he had no shame in admitting, but the honour of defiling North America’s sweetheart made it something really special. Butcher dared to consider for a moment whether this was Homelander’s first time as it certainly wasn’t his. Homelander had sold himself to the public as the epitome of heterosexual normativity, although Butcher knew better. Nobody that psychotic was satisfied with generic, run-of-the-mill sex - He must have been up to all kinds of heinous shit which begged the question why he seemed so completely terrified of a little mouth action now.
Rubbing his greasy hands against his thighs, Homelander reluctantly took Butcher’s cock in his mouth and employed the interesting technique of immediately sliding all the way down it until his nose was almost touching his pubic hair, dramatically coughing and gagging as he did so.
‘’Careful for fucks sake’’
This idiot didn’t have a fucking clue what he was doing, it was embarrassing. If this was the standard Homelander was used to it seemed rather sad the poor guy would never live to experience a half decent blowjob. He seemed to be trying to use Butcher's cock as a tongue compressor, directionlessly slipping up and down it in between pulling off violently to desperately gasp for air through a mouthful of bile and bloody saliva.
Ever the pragmatist, Butcher reached down to grab the back of Homelander’s head for manual assistance, pulling him forward and backward and almost impaling him through the neck in the process. Homelander gagged and heaved and pressed his sweaty hands against Butcher’s thighs to try and escape as Butcher gripped onto him for dear life. Homelander had had plenty of opportunity to do it properly himself - As they say, if you want the job done well you bloody well have to do it yourself.
Commanding the strength of a thousand suns to counter the resistance, Butcher forcibly slid Homelander up and down the length of his dick, the friction from which grew with intensity the faster he went, and the faster he went the more convincing the idea became.
Occasionally Homelander would try to pull himself off, digging his neatly trimmed fingernails into the denim of Butcher’s jeans and making all kinds of revolting noises that Butcher could feel reverberate through his cock and up his spine instigating a similar feeling to that of the sound of squeaking styrofoam.
Butcher had to shut his eyes and think about something else, anything else. The rolling hills of Sussex, the local pub slag with her big juicy tits, a national treasure on his knees pink skinned and panting.
Butcher could feel himself approaching the finishing line, the crest of his orgasm looming at the approaching horizon in all its golden glory.
"You're a horrible-’’ He moaned, tightening his grip on Homelander’s lovely blonde hair.
‘’Nasty-’’ So tight he’d rip it all out.
‘’- little cunt you are"
With a final, guttural noise Butcher forcibly lifted Homelander all the way off him and into the direct line of fire as he unloaded all his tension over Homelander’s damp, miserable face.
The wave of shame washing over him was almost immediate and immeasurably high. He’d barely had time to catch his breath before he could feel the waters of regret seeping into his boots, rising up his torso and around his neck ready to drown him.
Butcher looked down at the hand previously holding Homelander’s head which was now covered in soft, golden hairs. A parting gift.
He dared to glance down at Homelander who was still on the floor, panting like an animal and covered in bodily fluids. There were great long ropes of it in his hair, across his forehead and sliding down the creases of his neck. He looked like he was going to be sick.
Butcher took a step back as he watched Homelander feverishly wipe at his face to examine the damage with a look of utter contempt and humiliation.
‘’You-’’ He hissed, his words pointedly aimed directly at Butcher ‘’-You fucking owe me William - You fucking owe me!-’’
He watched as Butcher paced the room to collect himself and the trusty crowbar he’d neglected from earlier.
Homelander was right, surprisingly.
Butcher owed him the ending to the story they’d curated so carefully together for the past ten years that, through intense psychological warfare, had ironically bonded them much closer together than either cared to admit.
Butcher turned the crowbar fondly in his hand.
And as all good stories go, this one was going to have an absolutely spectacular ending.