Fics like to be made of flesh was humiliation

Billy swallows, throat burning. It’s getting late, and even Homelander’s toxic cocktail of blood is starting to smell appealing. The V lends a corrosive scent to a supe’s veins, sour like motor oil- though Homelander’s does smell different to other supes, cleaner and almost sharp. Billy’s never had to stoop so low, but he can’t imagine the taste to be pleasant. Homelander watches him, out the corner of one eye, then finally unclasps his red-gloved hands from behind his back and reveals a small silver flask he’d hidden under his cape. “They’re keeping us here all night,” he says, flat. Before he offers it to Billy. “Try not to fucking kill someone before the sun comes up.” ——— Blood, violence and anarchy- welcome to the dance floor of Vought International, where schemes, secrets and unbalanced power couples are rife for the picking.

Fics like to be made of flesh was humiliation

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