𓏲ּ𝄢 lexi

Homelander gets confused and frankly offended if you aren't coming to him for the use of his powers every time something or someone is bothering you. You tell him you don't want to take advantage of him, you don't want him to think you're using him, and he's just baffled.

"But I want you to use me," he says, surprising even himself at the clarity of the sentiment. "What the fuck else am I here for?"

"I don't know, to be loved by me and love me back in return?" you offer, cupping his flexing jaw with one hand.

He huffs softly, lowering his eyes for a moment, still baffled but also annoyed now by the sliver of vulnerability he feels creeping in.

"I will always come to you before anyone else, baby," you tell him. "But you're not my slave. You don't have to jump when I say so."

He nuzzles into your palm, his eyes closing properly. "But I want to," he whines, and you chuckle and kiss between his brows.

"Jeez, mister. What are you like?"

"I'm yours."

He looks back up at you again with a longing, twisting his head to kiss along your palm. It makes your breath hitch.

"Please... Let me show you I'm yours... Don't wanna be anyone else's..."

There's a tear leaking from the corner of his eye. You catch it with your thumb.

"Look at me, Homelander," you say softly, and he does, as though expecting chastisement. "You want to be mine? You want me to... control you?"

He nods, almost shamefully. A faint smile flickers across your lips, and you use your free hand to take one of his.

"Come with me then, sweet boy. I have something you can do."

For a second, he's confused at what you might mean, still swimming in that needy space that suggestion cannot permeate, before a devilish smirk unfolds on his face. With it, just like that, he's composed again, calm and assured, though the tear mark on his cheek still catches the light.