[Homelander's chest rises and falls, his fingers moving through John's hair to rub at his scalp, his other hand resting on his lower back.]
Yeah.
[Maybe somebody saner would argue with John, tell him that's impossible, but Homelander isn't that person. He should believe in nothing. He should see life for what it is: a meaningless void that traps you in, tells you lies, eats away at you like a fucking termite until there's nothing left.
But he knows what it's like, yearning for everything you've never had. Not knowing when to stop. Accepting limitations has never held any appeal to him.]
We can do it together.
The rules of the universe... we can break them together.
[Once John gets tired of acceptance. Once his fighting instinct reawakens, and he's ready to rip through the fabric of reality.]
[John curls up a bit, head shifting against Homelander's hand. He just happened to end up here after lazing out on returning to his side of the bed. There's no cuddling involved, nothing to see here.]
Okay. [For now he's just the plain old tired drunk who's still crawling out of that self-pitying hole. Swimming in a sea of Homelander is helping lift the mood considerably.]
Can we break sommin' else in the meantime? [John's hand trails down Homelander's shirt and dips in between his legs.]
[He keeps up the light head massage, tracing lazy circular patterns through John's hair, rubbing his thumb against his temple. He gives a little hum, as John goes for one of his patented crotch grabs.]
You gotta be more specific. I can break all sorts of things.
[As they've thoroughly established. With or without a pig.]
[John whimpers a contented little huff as Homelander mashes his off switch, his hand moving in lazy rubs over a rather friendly, perky-feeling package. There's a perpetual, standing offer of a place for this eagle to land, but right now he doesn't mind the soothing touches either.]
I don't mind, if you like to hurt. [He more than 'doesn't mind' but the opportunity for such conversation hasn't come up yet. It also tends to be heavily intertwined with some kind of commentary about self-destructive tendencies, self-loathing and other topics John doesn't want to breach. Nevermind the fact that Homelander's idea of fooling around, smacking around, or the kind of wild nights that John gets up to with other people could very well result in crushed organs and broken bones.]
A little breaking's alright. That's all I-... wanted to say. [The way his stubble scratches at Homelander's skin hints at a change in his expression, though nothing's viewable from that angle beyond the tousled blond hair.]
[It's not all that surprising to hear. He knows John is into all sorts of shit. It was a big part of why he sought him out initially. He seemed like the type of guy who might find the potential of bone crushing kind of a turn-on.
The tricky thing is... Homelander has grown far too fucking fond of the self-destructive dumbass.]
I don't like hurting you.
[He sighs, fingers dragging over John's scalp. He doesn't like hurting the few people that he cares about. More often than not, he does it unintentionally, and he hates it. It's fucking terrifying. He actually prefers it when John hurts him, however difficult that may be to accomplish.
And it's not that he doesn't like it rough, but when he's at full power, it comes with a whole slew of risks and complications.]
It's hard to fine-tune. To break just a little. I can't just-- let go.
It's fine. [He hurts himself plenty, to be fair. John's shoulders are tense and he's curled up a bit, legs shifting and hopefully not inadvertently kicking or kneeing anything too delicate. He has no qualms talking about what and who and where and exactly how he likes, but clearly this is not a subject easily breached right now. He's not in the mood to dive too deep, talk too meaningfully, or do much more than just lie there and drift.
So far he's been fairly lucky. He hasn't latched onto anyone who'd lock the door and beat him for fourteen hours, despite the abundance of such people in a place like this. Nobody's latched onto him either in that way. Not asked him to take it all out on them until he feels better. But it's really only a matter of time.
Some people run. Or take up boxing. Or scream. Maybe that's better. He's not sure. They sound like non-dysfunctional people hobbies.]
[Homelander wouldn't know a goddamn thing about non-dysfunctional people hobbies. He's all too familiar with inflicting pain and devastation as a method of establishing some sense of power and control, to make himself feel above the meatbags, frightening and untouchable.
But if somebody hurt John that way? If they crossed a line with him? Well, then Homelander would truly enjoy extracting their entrails through their broken teeth.
He slides his hand down to press his fingers into the muscle near John's shoulder blade, applying some gentle pressure. Well, gentle for him, maybe not so much for John.]
I could hurt you a little.
Might be easier if we could... I dunno. Make a game of it.
[He's not sure what it is John wants, exactly. How much of it he can really give him.]
[John rolls over like a turtle, chest lined up against chest and he props himself up on his elbows, shifting until he's lying flat on top of Homelander before lowering his head again. Back to his cheek to pec resting pose, where he can hear a faint but steady heartbeat, and Homelander can feel him breathing.
John cracks a smile and shakes his head. It's not his idea of fun, having to be self-restrained and hold back even though he doesn't realise that Homelander has to exercise that kind of caution every hour of everyday if he wants to use a doorknob without ripping the whole door off its frame, take a shower without twisting the whole washer off or grab something without crushing it.]
Let's ease you into the fun things first before you start getting any funny ideas. [John knows where to get his fix. He just hopes there won't be any freaking out or arguing on the tail end of his inevitable walk of shame, stumbling back covered in welts and bruises.]
[He gives a moody grunt, not entirely pleased with the non-solution. He doesn't like the idea of John going elsewhere to get something Homelander should, at least theoretically, be perfectly capable of providing. It chafes, and he doesn't quite know what to do about it.
He strokes the back of John's neck, fingertips dipping into flesh, massaging small circles.]
What ideas? You're the asshole who nearly burned my hair off.
[There is no simple solution, is kind of the problem, and John doesn't much like solutions that are too complicated or require too many compromises. He could, theoretically, accomplish anything with magic. He just doesn't want to.
Not to mention the problem that John doesn't do lines, boundaries, rules or definitives. Not well, anyway. Everything's an assertion, in a state of flux, a kind of maybe that gets more tempting with more unpredictability and more danger. There's no list of dos in this chaotic transient state, and only a very small list of don'ts. He will go too far. He always does. And someone always gets hurt.]
No I didn't. [Did he? When? The tension slowly eases off his shoulders as the topic shifts to more comfortable territory. Not that the impromptu massage isn't helping.] Was there drunk frying again?
Tch. I think I would remember if I went skinny dipping and burst into flames. [Though John 'I don't have a drinking problem' Constantine isn't going to argue that he doesn't have a lot of stupider than usual moments.]
...did I attack you? [The sullen expression and the quietness of the question might indicate that he's asked this before. Perhaps on more occasions than he'd like to admit.]
Oh. [That's- fortunate? But also timely. Most of the time, nobody stops John from trying out his best idea yet until it's too late and he's holding half a dismembered body in his arms wondering why it had to turn out that way.]
...you need to eat more. [Clearly the answer to the drinking problem - be enough of a heavyweight that John can't shove him anywhere.]
Nnngh. [John's shoulder goes flying up and he shrinks away from the touch, arm moving instinctively trying to cover up his ear. He's a fully grown man, he can't possibly be ticklish.]
It was before I got my powers back, you dipshit. I'm not a fucking Sumo wrestler.
[John can go ahead and try shoving him now with those twiggy magician arms of his, see how far that gets him. Or maybe he wants to be rolled over and squashed, enjoy the traumatic Ave Maria flashback?
For now Homelander just... tries a similar maneuver on John's other ear, to see if he's equally not-ticklish there.]
A few more strips of bacon and you might go that way. [This is what they call tough love, right? It's hard to tell where that ends and where 'namecalling arsehole' begins.]
Mmf- ngh- no. Stop that. [John swats at that hand, turning his head away, trying to hide at least one ear against Homelander's chest and protect the other. He loves being whispered to and nibbled on and all the rest of it as much as the next fellow when he's getting frisky and handsy, but right now he's just lying there and it's pushing him to fidgeting and giggling.]
[Not even if Homelander would turn out as cute and chubby as Bowser?]
What weakness? You're just doing that annoying fly in the middle of the night thing. [You know, when you've just laid down and started drifting off and then you hear that buzzing, feel something ticklish on your ear.]
[John grunts, moving his head a bit at the poke but returning to his original spot with a huff. He would like to point out that there wouldn't be any squirming if Homelander wasn't provoking him. And that's clearly what this is.]
[John doesn't trust him, but then, John doesn't trust anyone so there's no need to take it personally or as a slight.]
When I get sick I'd want you to. [John turns to make eye contact and lifts his head, lazily yanking himself up and folding his arms across Homelander's chest.]
I don't want to die, like that. [Maybe slow and agonising is what he deserves, for everything he's done. He's also a coward and putting this on someone else is a tempting easy way out.] Promise me you will.
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Yeah.
[Maybe somebody saner would argue with John, tell him that's impossible, but Homelander isn't that person. He should believe in nothing. He should see life for what it is: a meaningless void that traps you in, tells you lies, eats away at you like a fucking termite until there's nothing left.
But he knows what it's like, yearning for everything you've never had. Not knowing when to stop. Accepting limitations has never held any appeal to him.]
We can do it together.
The rules of the universe... we can break them together.
[Once John gets tired of acceptance. Once his fighting instinct reawakens, and he's ready to rip through the fabric of reality.]
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Okay. [For now he's just the plain old tired drunk who's still crawling out of that self-pitying hole. Swimming in a sea of Homelander is helping lift the mood considerably.]
Can we break sommin' else in the meantime? [John's hand trails down Homelander's shirt and dips in between his legs.]
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You gotta be more specific. I can break all sorts of things.
[As they've thoroughly established. With or without a pig.]
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I don't mind, if you like to hurt. [He more than 'doesn't mind' but the opportunity for such conversation hasn't come up yet. It also tends to be heavily intertwined with some kind of commentary about self-destructive tendencies, self-loathing and other topics John doesn't want to breach. Nevermind the fact that Homelander's idea of fooling around, smacking around, or the kind of wild nights that John gets up to with other people could very well result in crushed organs and broken bones.]
A little breaking's alright. That's all I-... wanted to say. [The way his stubble scratches at Homelander's skin hints at a change in his expression, though nothing's viewable from that angle beyond the tousled blond hair.]
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The tricky thing is... Homelander has grown far too fucking fond of the self-destructive dumbass.]
I don't like hurting you.
[He sighs, fingers dragging over John's scalp. He doesn't like hurting the few people that he cares about. More often than not, he does it unintentionally, and he hates it. It's fucking terrifying. He actually prefers it when John hurts him, however difficult that may be to accomplish.
And it's not that he doesn't like it rough, but when he's at full power, it comes with a whole slew of risks and complications.]
It's hard to fine-tune. To break just a little. I can't just-- let go.
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So far he's been fairly lucky. He hasn't latched onto anyone who'd lock the door and beat him for fourteen hours, despite the abundance of such people in a place like this. Nobody's latched onto him either in that way. Not asked him to take it all out on them until he feels better. But it's really only a matter of time.
Some people run. Or take up boxing. Or scream. Maybe that's better. He's not sure. They sound like non-dysfunctional people hobbies.]
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But if somebody hurt John that way? If they crossed a line with him? Well, then Homelander would truly enjoy extracting their entrails through their broken teeth.
He slides his hand down to press his fingers into the muscle near John's shoulder blade, applying some gentle pressure. Well, gentle for him, maybe not so much for John.]
I could hurt you a little.
Might be easier if we could... I dunno. Make a game of it.
[He's not sure what it is John wants, exactly. How much of it he can really give him.]
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John cracks a smile and shakes his head. It's not his idea of fun, having to be self-restrained and hold back even though he doesn't realise that Homelander has to exercise that kind of caution every hour of everyday if he wants to use a doorknob without ripping the whole door off its frame, take a shower without twisting the whole washer off or grab something without crushing it.]
Let's ease you into the fun things first before you start getting any funny ideas. [John knows where to get his fix. He just hopes there won't be any freaking out or arguing on the tail end of his inevitable walk of shame, stumbling back covered in welts and bruises.]
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He strokes the back of John's neck, fingertips dipping into flesh, massaging small circles.]
What ideas? You're the asshole who nearly burned my hair off.
[Not that it was sex-related, but still.]
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Not to mention the problem that John doesn't do lines, boundaries, rules or definitives. Not well, anyway. Everything's an assertion, in a state of flux, a kind of maybe that gets more tempting with more unpredictability and more danger. There's no list of dos in this chaotic transient state, and only a very small list of don'ts. He will go too far. He always does. And someone always gets hurt.]
No I didn't. [Did he? When? The tension slowly eases off his shoulders as the topic shifts to more comfortable territory. Not that the impromptu massage isn't helping.] Was there drunk frying again?
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[He doubts John remembers much of that very special night.]
You were being stupider than usual.
[He pauses the massage for a rather aggressive hair ruffle.]
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...did I attack you? [The sullen expression and the quietness of the question might indicate that he's asked this before. Perhaps on more occasions than he'd like to admit.]
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[And it was a lucky fucking thing. It wouldn't have been his idea of a good time, fishing out John's melted, sizzling remains out of the river.]
There were... demon bats. You shoved me into Billy like a fucking bowling ball and started hurling fireballs.
[Two fingers trail around John's ear. It wasn't an attack, exactly, but it was... something.]
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...you need to eat more. [Clearly the answer to the drinking problem - be enough of a heavyweight that John can't shove him anywhere.]
Nnngh. [John's shoulder goes flying up and he shrinks away from the touch, arm moving instinctively trying to cover up his ear. He's a fully grown man, he can't possibly be ticklish.]
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[John can go ahead and try shoving him now with those twiggy magician arms of his, see how far that gets him. Or maybe he wants to be rolled over and squashed, enjoy the traumatic Ave Maria flashback?
For now Homelander just... tries a similar maneuver on John's other ear, to see if he's equally not-ticklish there.]
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Mmf- ngh- no. Stop that. [John swats at that hand, turning his head away, trying to hide at least one ear against Homelander's chest and protect the other. He loves being whispered to and nibbled on and all the rest of it as much as the next fellow when he's getting frisky and handsy, but right now he's just lying there and it's pushing him to fidgeting and giggling.]
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He's feeling merciful, though, so he doesn't torment John further, resuming hair petting for the time being.]
Think you need some earmuffs to go with the trenchcoat. Wouldn't want some sneaky hellspawn exploiting that weakness of yours.
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What weakness? You're just doing that annoying fly in the middle of the night thing. [You know, when you've just laid down and started drifting off and then you hear that buzzing, feel something ticklish on your ear.]
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And you... [he pokes a finger at John's temple.] Are squirming all over the place.
[What kind of master of exorcism can't handle a little ear tickling?]
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Shut up. Cocky little shite.
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...I could choke you.
I'd have to be careful not to snap your neck, but--
[He's got better control on his strangehold than he does over smacks and slaps.]
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Would you panic if you did? [Because if this is going to be traumatic then it'd be better if it's only traumatic for one of them.]
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I wouldn't-- I wouldn't let that happen.
[The neck breaking, that is. What does it matter if he panics afterwards?]
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When I get sick I'd want you to. [John turns to make eye contact and lifts his head, lazily yanking himself up and folding his arms across Homelander's chest.]
I don't want to die, like that. [Maybe slow and agonising is what he deserves, for everything he's done. He's also a coward and putting this on someone else is a tempting easy way out.] Promise me you will.
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Only if you promise to fight to your last fucking breath.
[He'll take John out if it gets to that point. He doesn't want to see him suffer needlessly. But he won't let John just fade away.]
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