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The Believe expo was in full swing, with thousands of believers coming together to celebrate Christ's love - but that wasn't why you were here. Nor was it why you'd paid a whopping $15,000 for the privilege of having one-on-one time with Ezekial at his exclusive backstage meet-and-greet. You had admittedly sinister motives which were centered around the rumors that a certain leader of the Seven was going to be gracing the exclusive access group with his even more exclusive presence.
"Alright, alright, settle down guys - hey, welcome to Believe!" Ezekial bellowed, arms spread wide as he beamed his congenial smile at the small group that had the privilege to be assembled in the roomy tent meant to pass as his private quarters. You weren't stupid enough to actually beleive that, as some of the simpering fans seemed to be - it was pretty clear that the tent had been staged (and poorly, in your opinion) to resemble what an outsider might think Ezekial's living space looked like - plush pillows, elaborate rugs, it all gave the impression that this was a man who reposed in impressive (yet relatable! That was important for his relationship with fans!) luxury, when he wasn't preaching the word of his god.
"Listen, it's great to see you all here, supporting us in spreading God's word - and that's why I've got a little surprise for you." Ezekial was talking again, coming in close to work the crowd as he grinned at them conspiratorially, his twinkling eyes assuring them that this was, indeed, a genuine moment worthy of the thousands of dollars that they had paid to be here, rather than a planned marketing strategy to ensure they slid a little deeper into the cult.
Here it comes, you thought, anticipation coursing through you. The group around you twittered with excitement, making hushed predictions about what Ezekial's surprise might entail. You rolled your eyes, but you weren't as certain as your facade let on - Yes, you worked at Vought, and yes, your source was reliable - but even the best laid plans could go awry.
"So guys…" Ezekial was fairly bouncing by this point, though whether he was actually anticipating imparting the news or whether this was just another hook into the audiences already rapt attention, you couldn't tell. The man was a good actor, you'd give him that. You'd have to be, to stand here and spew this bullshit to adoring fans, then turn around and live another life in secret. Boys, booze, and blow were par for Ezekial's course, no matter what he portrayed on stage - you'd seen it for yourself, when Vought dispatched you to a call in the club he was holed up in. You were paid well enough to keep your mouth shut, and your work as a doctor for the company kept you in the periphery of the supes' antics most of the time, so you hadn't made it your business. You didn't care who Ezekial fucked - he was a damn liar and a fraud, but there were bigger fish to fry here, so you shook the thoughts away as he continued.
"It's my absolute pleasure to introduce you to a good friend of mine - he's a brother in Christ our Lord, and all around super guy - Homelander, come on out here!"
The rich velvet curtain behind Ezekial parted, and the leader of the Seven ducked through. He came to stand by Ezekial, hands clasped behind his back in his familiar stance as he beamed sheepishly at the assembled crowd.
"Great to see you guys, thanks for coming out. It's truly a pleasure to be here with you today, Ezekial." Homelander gave the group what was supposed to be a genuine smile, all straight white teeth and pointed canines that, to you, spoke of nothing but predatory intention. It was an act, all of it, and it sickened you. But the group of sycophantic fans cheered as Homelander clapped Ezekial on the back genially.
"Don't I know it, brother." Ezekial moved to place an arm around Homelander's broad shoulders. "Now guys, I say "brother" because Homelander is my brother in Christ, but - and you guys are gonna love this -" He paused for effect, beaming at the crowd who were waiting on tenterhooks "- you can call him "Father," because he actually just got ordained, all for you guys!"
The crowd went wild, hooting and cheering and stomping like animals. Homelander grinned and waved their applause off with mock humility.
"Yeah guys! So we're going to have a little fellowship, then Homelander here has agreed to help me help you renew your commitment to our Lord by baptizing you all. Isn't that great?" Ezekial gave another beaming grin, then made a broad, sweeping gesture. On cue, waiters in overly formal livery appeared from behind the curtain and began circulating the room, offering refreshments to the excited crowd.
As the waiters plied the guests with hors d'oeuvres and what you were sure was just overly fancy tap water, you watched Homelander working the room. He paused at each group, shook hands, and stayed just long enough for a photo op before moving on to the next. It was all terribly scripted, but no one seemed to mind - the heady rush of being close to their hero would have absolved him of any missteps, had he made any.
You couldn't deny that Vought had a rare treasure in this golden-haired man who worked a crowd so flawlessly - but would they be as eager to shake his gloved hand if they knew even half of what those hands were capable of, as you did? Perhaps so - people were remarkably ignorant when they wanted to be. You sighed, and snagged a glass of water from a passing waiter. It was ridiculously adorned with a sprig of mint, and all sorts of berries frozen into the round ice cubes. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the blatant ostentation - Homelander was wrapping up his act with the group beside you.
When he reached you, you stuck your hand out, smiling up into his face. He arched an eyebrow at your enthusiasm, presumably unused to such forward behavior from fans.
"I don't believe we've met - and I usually know all of Ezekial's fans." He murmured in what was clearly supposed to be a charming undertone. You hated him all the more for the condescension, but placated the hot rush of anger with the knowledge that it was good that he hadn't recognized you - this was the other part of your plan that could easily have gone awry. You'd worked in the same building with the man for five years, and were counting on your dubious anonymity as just one of the numerous Vought medical staff that occasionally cleaned up his messes to shield you from his suspicion. Apparently it had been sufficient - the guileless blue of his gaze held yours as he waited with studied patience for you to introduce yourself.
"You can call me Lillith." You grinned up at him, genuinely pleased that this was going so well.
"Is that your name?" He queried, crossing his arms and peering down at you with what was most probably just feigned interest.
"Nope." You smiled and took a large sip of your wine. He watched you, and a small furrow appeared between his brows. Good, you had his attention - time for your act to really begin. He gestured to your cup.
"I didn't know Ezekial was serving wine."
"Mm. He's not - just a neat little parlor trick." You gave him a simpering smile, then took his cup of water from him. You held it up, concentrating, and the water was suddenly replaced by a rich ruby red claret.
"You're a supe." He looked surprised, but pleasantly so.
Excellent.
"Guilty." You admitted as you took a sip of his wine, holding his now genuinely intrigued gaze as you drank deep. You offered him the cup back and he took it, clearly noting the vermillion lipstick print you'd left on the rim.
"That trick probably comes in handy at Believe." He chuckled, and took a polite sip of the wine, carefully aligning his mouth to where yours had been on the cup and holding your gaze as he drank. Homelander didn't typically drink alcohol, you knew, so this show was presumably for your benefit - and damn if it wasn't working. You felt your gut clench at the implication, but forced yourself to answer with the same studied nonchalance that Vought had coached into him.
"Oh yeah, people think it's pretty neat. And it's not limited to water-into-wine - there's actually some alchemy involved. But I don't usually frequent these places, believe it or not."
"Oh? So what brought you out this time?" He leaned into the wall, crossing his arms and gazing down at you. Excellent - not only was he making conversation, his body language told you that he was intrigued, and intended to stay and talk with you until his curiosity was satiated. You gave him a shy smile from beneath your lashes, a small lure for the enormous ego that you knew he had trouble containing.
"Welllll, I've been feeling like I needed to renew my commitment to the Lord. You know, life has sort of taken some unexpected turns, I've done things I'm not proud of, so I want to get back on track. But it doesn't feel very official just praying for forgiveness, does it? If you even believe that sort of thing can absolve sin, I mean." You schooled your face into a demure expression, willing yourself not to laugh at the garbage that you were saying. He seemed to buy it, thankfully. He'd probably had this conversation with countless followers - he was the closest thing to a god any of them were like to experience in this glorified cult.
"'If'? Do you not believe in that sort of thing?" He said, face arranged in a look of grave concern. Ah, good. What a perfect setup for your next play. You managed to look troubled, like you were considering a difficult answer. His blue eyes never left your face as you swallowed nervously.
"I, uh, prefer gods I can see. And...touch." you breathed, and reached out and drew a single finger down his torso, stopping just above his belt line. His sharp intake of breath told you that the action was unexpected - the fact that your hand was still attached told you that it wasn't unwelcome.
"Well, you've certainly come to the right place." He murmured. You glanced up, taking in his lust-darkened eyes, and smiled innocently.
"I don't know - I'm not sure I feel right about being baptized."
"Why's that?" He asked, the deep rumble of his voice reverberating to your core. You shouldn't want him, not after the things you knew he'd done, the messes of his you had toe tagged and zipped into body bags - and yet.
You shrugged.
"The way I was raised, you made your confessions first. Then you were offered communion, and then - and only then - would you receive the cleansing waters of your god's forgiveness. I know it's weird, but my mom was Catholic, Dad Southern Baptist - I guess they were just trying to cover all the eventualities. So I can't possibly be baptized today without making a confession - and I guess that's not on the agenda." You pouted, wondering as you did so how ridiculous you looked, whether this was too much. You'd never been a great actor, but his rapt attention told you that it didn't matter - he wasn't thinking with his brain anymore.
"I don't want to presume, but I'd be willing to hear a confession, if you'd honor me by giving it." He said quietly, an offer meant only for your ears. You brightened, forcing yourself to reach out and grab his arm. He drew in a breath at the contact, and you realized that not many people probably touched him without permission. That might have been a mistake, but there was nothing for it now, so you barreled on.
"Oh, that's right! Ezekial said you'd gotten ordained - will you help me, Father?" You batted your eyelashes up at him - which, for God's sake, did this garbage actually work on men?
"It would be my pleasure." He said, eyes smoldering with the heat that was searing between you.
He turned abruptly and said something in an undertone to Ezekial, who nodded enthusiastically.
"Come with me." Homelander commanded, turning on his heel and leading you behind the velvet curtain that made up the far wall of the tent.
You followed him through a dim corridor which emerged abruptly in a small room, presumably a spare dressing room for Ezekial's cast or crew. It wasn't large, but there was a chair in the center, a dusty dresser in the corner, and the room was separated from the hallway by another deep blue velvet curtain.
"Kneel." He indicated the floor outside of the room before stepping through the curtain and closing it. You obliged, sinking to your knees on the rough wood and crossing yourself, acting from force of habit rather than for his benefit now. This part of the act was easy - in every good lie there was a kernel of truth, and you really had grown up halfway between two religions. You smiled as you began the familiar litany.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned - it has been three months since my last confession, and these are my sins." You heard him shift in his seat behind the curtain, clearly intrigued by what you were going to say. You smiled to yourself - this part of your act was well rehearsed.
"Two months ago, I was one of the victims in a bank robbery. I was held hostage, but Homelander and Queen Maeve arrived in time to kill the criminals. Father, he didn't know that I saw, but I watched Homelander's eyes as he tore one of the robber's heart's out - and I went home afterward and pleasured myself thinking about how he'd looked murdering that man. I've done it every night since, sometimes twice."
It was a lie. You'd treated the criminal in question - or rather, stuck his cold corpse in a body bag, the aforementioned disembodied organ shoved roughly back into the coagulating mess of the fist- sized hole in the unfortunate man's chest cavity. And you might have chalked that incident up to vigilante justice - if it had been the first or last time you'd carted off a corpse created by Homelander. You clenched your fists by your knees, willing yourself to hold it together. It wasn't time for anger, yet - not if you wanted this to truly be a lesson for him.
You heard him shift minutely in his seat again, and it was a moment before he spoke.
"Lust is a heavy sin, my child, and carries a heavy penance. Come here."
You stood and stepped through the curtain, immediately meeting the intensity of his gaze. The blue eyes were fairly black they were blown so wide with lust, and you could see the straining of his cock through the thin material of his suit.
"Take off your pants."
You obliged, tossing them to the side and approaching him contritely. As soon as you were in reach, he pulled you into his lap with one hand while freeing his cock with the other. He slid his hand from the base to the tip of his cock, a slow, deliberate show for your benefit. It wasn't not working - you could feel the insistent thrumming in your gut, the building of the slick wetness between your thighs as you watched. He looked up at you from beneath hooded eyes.
"You told me before that you've received communion in the past as part of your religion's act of contrition - do you desire to receive the body of your god today?"
"Yes." You breathed, watching a drop of precome gather at the tip of his cock, then slide lazily down the shaft.
"Yes...?" He prompted, reaching out and catching your chin, forcing your eyes back to his.
"Yes Father."
"Kneel." He commanded. You obliged, kneeling on the rough hewn wood of the floor in front of the chair, your face now level with his cock. One gloved hand tangled in your hair, forcing your lips to the slick head. You opened eagerly, tongue swiping at the wetness, but his hand in your hair held you back.
"This is My body which is broken for you." He intoned, forcing your head up and staring into your eyes with an intensity that should have been frightening, but which instead went straight to your core.
When you took him into your mouth, you moaned as he immediately slid to the back of your throat. The hand in your hair relaxed, and you were free to move again, relishing in the insistent roll of his hips.
It was heaven, having your mouth full of him. The warmth and weight of him felt right against your tongue, and the way he tensed and stifled moans when you laved your tongue around the head of his cock made you clench your thighs and moan around him at the delicious friction.
But this wasn't about your pleasure - not yet, anyway. So you quickened your pace, relaxing into the act and taking him deeper into your throat, hollowing your cheeks and running your tongue along the underside of him on your upstrokes. It didn't take long, after that - he came in your mouth with a choked off groan, his hands tightening in your hair to hold you down as his come filled your mouth.
When his breathing had slowed and he disentangled his hands from your hair, you made to rise.
"No. Stay on your knees." He commanded, reaching and taking the wine cup from the sideboard. He glanced down at you, holding your curious gaze as he held out the cup.
"This cup is the new covenant in My blood."
He took a long drink, eyes never leaving yours, and then kneeled in front of you, securing your head with a careless hand tangled in your hair. His lips met yours, rough and bruising, and you parted your lips obligingly. Wine, dark and sweet, flowed over your tongue to mingle with his come.
"The body and blood of your god." His voice was low, reverent, as he watched you swallow.
You watched him for a moment, sizing him up, knowing this was your opportunity. So you stood, crossed your arms, and smirked at him.
"Really. Wine? That's…cute." You let the condescension fairly drip from your words, wanting him off guard, needing him angry. He shot you a look of disbelief and matched your pose, arrogant and conceited and…oh, in so much more trouble than he could fathom. You grinned.
"'Cute?' Sweetheart, I just held you down on my cock and you loved it." He laughed, but his voice was tight with derision. Who were you to make light of what he had given you? You, who were just some no one, just some unimportant, nonrelevent supe that he'd decided to grace with his attention? You could see the disbelief, the reluctance, etched on his face, and it only served to excite you more.
"Yeah, until you wimped out and gave me wine instead of blood." You quipped, enjoying the look of shock that this suggestion elicited.
"'Wimped out?' Are you out of your mind? I'm The Homelander, and you, you're nobody. Yet you sit here and expect me, a god to let you have my blood?" He scoffed, incredulity making him bold. He took a step towards you, and you calmly raised a hand.
"Yes, if you don't have a choice." You smiled as he suddenly stumbled, then gave him a well-timed shove so that he landed back in the chair just as his legs gave out. He gaped at you, face reddening as he attempted to stand, to move, to do anything, and instead found himself incapacitated.
"What the fuck did you do to me?" He growled, attempting to rise from the chair and instead falling back limply.
"Relax. I only turned 70% of your free oxygen into elemental iron. But don't worry - your healing factor will fix you up. But until then..." You stepped forward, and he jerked away - or tried to. You chuckled, and ran a hand through the perfectly coiffed blonde hair.
"Jesus, you're jumpy. Not used to being on the back foot, are you?" You asked offhand as you concentrated on the room. Yes, this would do fine - there were more than enough materials here to suit your needs.
Before he could retort, the dressing table and curtain seemed to pull themselves apart, shredding into nothingness and reconciling themselves into a rudimentary table with a cloth cover in front of you, next to his chair.
He said nothing, eyes wide. You shrugged at him.
"I did say it was more of an alchemy thing. Rearranging atoms is sort of a useless power when it's applied for good - well, it makes me a great doctor, but only an okay supe. But when applied for bad…let's just say I'm learning that being bad can be more fun. I see why you do it - Not that this is bad, mind you. You're gonna love it. Now, let's get you comfortable." You smirked at him before pulling him up from the chair and tossing him carelessly onto the table, where he sprawled limply.
"Don't have much fight in you when you don't have the upper hand, do you?" You goaded, reaching down to retrieve several items from your bag on the floor.
"Fuck you." He hissed, voice muffled against the table as he attempted to turn his head and see what you were doing behind him.
"Hmm. Yeah, that was an option. And then you had to go and fuck it up by being selfish. Tsk, tsk." You clicked your tongue at him and heard him growl low in his throat, clearly not up to the effort of forming more words at the moment. You'd never used the oxygen to iron trick before - it had worked much better than expected, though you probably only had moments before his healing factor kicked in and allowed blood flow, and thus strength, to return to his extremities. You needed to get a shake on before that happened.
You levered yourself up on the table behind him - it was a bit taller than you'd intended to make it, probably because the room contained so damn much wood and you'd been too nervous to bother differentiating chair from floorboard. There was a nice sized, ragged hole in the floor where the chair used to be that lent credence to this theory - no question about it, you were out of practice in non-medical related applications of your powers.
No matter, though - the table you'd pulled together was sturdy enough, with the cloth cover that previously made up the curtains providing a makeshift tablecloth barrier between your knees and the wood as you settled over him, knees spread wide to straddle the back of his thighs. The harness you'd retrieved from your bag and donned was a little loose around your hips, but the rubber dildo that currently rested just below Homelander's ass cheeks was secure enough.
"The fuck. Do you think you're doing." He gasped out, clearly feeling your weight settling against the back of his legs. Good - that was one area you wanted him to have feeling in.
"Just having some fun. Reminding you what it feels like, being helpless and at someone's mercy." You said lightly, running your fingers up his spine. He shivered at the contact. The suit was thin enough, but it would have to go - the bottom half, at least. But how to accomplish that without requiring his participation in the matter?
Ah.
You concentrated briefly and the iconic suit disintegrated beneath you, revealing pale skin and lithe muscle. You hoped he'd brought along a spare, because the unbound atoms had seemingly vanished into the ether, rather than realigning themselves in an orderly manner, folded over the chair as you'd anticipated. Ah, well. His lats tensed deliciously under your wandering hand, clearly responding to the shock of suddenly being naked underneath you.
"No, no - just relax." You breathed, running your hand down the small of his back and over the curve of his ass.
"The. Fuck!" He snarled, shoulders knotting up as he made a valiant but futile effort to turn over. You planted a hand in the middle of his back, making a show of pushing him down.
"Shhh. Fucking relax." You grinned, trailing a finger down the warmth of his ass crack and feeling his legs jerk in response. Damn, his healing factor was working faster than you'd anticipated - time for action, then. You brought your fingers to your lips and popped them into your mouth, sucking and laving at them with your tongue. When they were sufficiently wet, you brought them back to the smooth pucker of his ass and pressed, feeling the tip of your index finger breach him slightly.
He let out a choked sound, but you huffed out a laugh and pushed the finger deeper, curling it down and stretching him open. Normally you'd be slower, more gentle, and more lubricated, but you were running out of time - you could see his hands clenching the cover over the table, knuckles white. If you weren't done by the time his faculties returned, he would probably cut you in half - and that would be the best case scenario.
With that thought, you relented and reached for the bottle of lube you'd brought as an afterthought, squeezing a measure onto your fingers before roughly adding a second digit and burying them to the second joint. He let out a strangled sob, so helpless and needy and completely uncharacteristic that you realized with a sudden shock that you were wet with anticipation alone.
"Get on your knees." You murmured, rising off of his thighs so that he could accommodate, but not removing your fingers from where they were sunk deep in his ass.
"I can't - you fucking drugged me, remember?" He bit out, turning his head to look at you over his shoulder.
"Oh, please. I didn't drug you, I used my Vought-given powers on you, no different than you've done to countless others. Except what I did to you was temporary - and for a purpose. Do you see how fucking awful it is being forced to do someone else’s bidding because they're more powerful than you?" You waited a beat for his answer, and when none seemed to be forthcoming you snorted contemptuously and continued.
"Or, maybe you don't. Because you've been able to move for a good while now, and I cant help but notice that I'm still very much alive." You curled your fingers down against his prostate pointedly, drawing a shuddering breath from him.
"If I could move, I'd have fucking lasered you in half already." He snarled, but it came out so breathless that the intended effect was lost.
"Oh? You know what I think?" You hummed, wiggling your fingers inside of him and eliciting a barely stifled groan of pleasure. "I think that if you were going to do that, you've had plenty of opportunities. But go ahead - laser me. I'm fucking waiting." You bit out.
He scowled back at you, but you only grinned savagely, thrusting both fingers into him to punctuate your words.
His sudden choked intake of breath and subsequent shaky, almost reluctant rise to his knees was all the confirmation you needed - you withdrew the fingers and placed a hand between his shoulder blades, pressing his chest and face back into the table and yanking his hips further into the air.
He made a pretty picture sprawled in front of you, needy and willing with his ass in the air. Your eyes never left him, admiring the flex of the muscles in his back, the cock and balls hanging heavy between his thighs.
If he'd hoped for a gentle introduction to being fucked, he was disappointed. You plunged your fingers into him again in a single stroke, drawing a keening moan from him as you pulled back and then sunk to the third joint in another viscous thrust. It was too good, too heady - having Homelander spread open beneath you, wanton and wanting and writhing against your fingers - it was fucking bliss.
But suddenly, you realized it wasn't enough, that you'd likely never have this opportunity again, and all manner of debauched possibilities filled your brain. You reached around his hip and grabbed his leaking cock, stroking him in time with your other hand's thrusts.
Immediately, his huffed exhalations turned to ragged moans and God he sounded as wrecked as you felt, writhing back against your fingers like he would never get enough.
And with only the tensing of his thighs as a warning, you felt the warm rush of his second orgasm pumping into your palm. You rubbed the head of his cock through the mess cruelly, knowing it would overstimulate him and grinning to yourself when he whimpered underneath you and attempted to move away from the insistent rubbing of your slick palm against the head of his cock. Of course, this movement only sunk the fingers of your other hand deeper into him, and he let out a low groan and turned his head to the side, cheek pressed against the table as he slumped down, boneless and unprotesting and yours.
"No way, baby boy. Not done yet." You ground out, pulling his hips back up and into your thrusts. A weakly murmured "fuck you" was your only acknowledgment that he'd heard, but that was neither here nor there. This wasn't about what he wanted, now - this was about kicking the pedestal that you'd spent the last half hour building squarely out from under him.
You pulled your hand away from his cock, and he eyed the handful of come that was pooled in your palm with unease. He was still too out of it to actually protest, and you had no doubt he'd do whatever you asked of him at this point anyway. He was clearly apprehensive about your intentions, though, the way his eyes were tracking your cupped palm with no small amount of trepidation.
"No, I'm not going to make you eat it." You chuckled, and he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Although I should - I don't remember telling you that you could come again, yet."
"Sorry." He murmured, still clearly too out of it to process the embarrassing ease with which he'd apologized.
"Sorry, what." You prompted, not quite knowing, but suspecting, wanting -
"Sorry - Mommy." He breathed, body tensing at the gravity of the words. The title spilling from his lips with the ease of an affirmation sent a thrill through you - God, he was gorgeous and pliable and perfect post-orgasm, a complete one eighty from earlier, and all it took was two fingers. What else could you do to this gorgeous man? You smiled to yourself, but pulled a doubtful look for his benefit as he glanced back at you.
"I don't think you are. I think you liked it. And do you know what else I think?" You asked sweetly, leaning down to murmur in his ear and driving your fingers deeper as a consequence. He made a noise of protest, still overly sensitive from your earlier attentions, so you slid in a third finger simply because it amused you to watch him clench around you in shock.
"Oh, fuck, I - please. I can't…." He trailed off, canting his hips away from the sudden stretch and the redoubled pressure against his prostate.
"But you're going to, because I want you to " you said perfunctorily, bringing your other, come-coated hand to the dildo between your legs and lubing it up with his come.
"Look at me." He obliged, raising his head to watch you over his shoulder, eyes widening when he finally processed what the slow, stroking motion of your palm against the now glistening dildo portended.
"Please -" was all he managed before you removed your fingers and thrust the dripping length into him, fucking his own come deep into his ass.
"Don't worry, baby - if you're good, Mommy will clean you up, after." You murmured, entranced as you watched his come begin to leak around the dildo and run down his balls. The delicious friction of him against you as you fucked into his ass was driving you towards your pleasure, and you quickened your pace accordingly. His breath hitched into a moan, low and loud and needy, and God, he was just so perfect like this.
"Go on - let them hear you. All of those people out there, thinking you're some god, but here you are on your knees for me." You babbled, so close to your own release that you almost didn't notice the telltale tensing of his back as he resisted his own orgasm.
"Are you going to come for me again?" You slowed your pace, reverting to the slow, deep roll of your hips that immediately made his thighs shake.
"Can't - no, please." He huffed out a groan as you reached around him again, finding his dick hard and dripping. Supe metabolisms were a wonderful thing, you thought to yourself as you began stroking him in time with the relentless roll of your hips.
"Yes. And you're going to make sure everyone hears you, too. No more of this quiet moaning shit - we're gonna do this until I'm satisfied that everyone in this tent knows exactly what their favorite hero is up to." You bit out, slamming into him and eliciting a whimper.
"I said, let them fucking hear you." You hissed, working his cock faster and putting all of your force behind your next thrusts.
"Fuck, please no, please don't - Mommy, please!" He stuttered, all but completely lost in bliss as you squeezed the base of his cock, staving off the blissful torture of his third orgasm for the moment.
"Louder, or I let you come and then keep going." You panted, so very close to your own pleasure that you were no longer sure if the threat was idle or not.
It didn't matter. All it took was a single finger, stretching into him beside the plastic cock, and he was lost.
"Fuck, Mommy, yes, please fuck me -" He was writhing against you, pressing back to gain friction from the stretch in his ass, and simultaneously rutting forward into the warm slick of your palm on his cock. You felt him clench around you, and your own orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave. You would have cried out, but instead bit down on his shoulder where your teeth immediately drew blood. You felt the weak pulse of his cock in your hand, heard him shout again as his third orgasm ripped through him. When he began to shake, you buried your face against his shoulder, feeling him shudder a final time beneath you as both relaxed into the haze of post-orgasmic bliss.
After you'd caught your breath, you kneeled back, allowing him to rise beneath you. You slid lightly from the table, stripping off the harness and tossing it into the corner of the room. When you looked back up, he was sitting up on the edge of the table, long legs dangling almost to the floor, watching you carefully.
"Sorry about your suit. I didn't mean to vanish it - I'm not great with some aspects of my powers."
"Could have fooled me." He snorted, and you grinned wolfishly. He was still watching you as you began to dress, his blue eyes unfathomable.
"Well, I should get back to work, so -" You began awkwardly, but before you could complete the thought he had reached out, drawing you towards him to stand between his spread thighs.
"I think you can take the day off." He said, and the tenor of command had settled back into his voice as naturally as if it had never left.
"Er, well - I can't. And you have baptisms to attend to, remember?" You smiled, caught off guard by his desire to continue the encounter. The point had been to teach him a lesson, not - fuck, whatever this was where the electric aura of your passions still thrummed, insistent and unavoidable, between the two of you.
"I remember that you disintegrated my suit. And that you promised to clean me up, if I was good." He said quietly, and the needy note in his voice was like a punch to your gut. The fact that you were woefully wrongfooted, unable to process his charms when they were not being obscured by the Vought-brand persona, was the only explanation you could give yourself for not pushing him away when he pulled you up into a searing kiss.
"Come back to the tower with me." It was a request, steeped in the habit of a demand but underlaid with a neediness that you weren't prepared to process now, today - hell, maybe ever.
So you simply said,
"Okay."
He smiled, and drew you back into another kiss.