#theboys

The meeting at the Seven tower dragged on. A group of investors with sticks up their asses acted as if they had the right to dictate terms to Homelander when he was, in fact, the face of Vought.

There were ten people inside the room, all sitting around the table. Homelander, eight old, bitter pseudo-businessmen and you. Your father had taken you to the meeting because he knew you admired Homelander, so now you sat in one of the chairs, almost vibrating with excitement, which also made you the only person there who was in a somehow good mood.

Halfway through their complaining about how the price of buying a supe is too high these days, Homelander rested his chin in the palm of his hand, a faint frown on his face indicating his growing irritation. You were watching him intently, trying to be subtle about it, even though your eyes didn't leave him even for a moment.

"Four hundred million for some pseudo-hero pumped full of blue shit from a syringe?" One of the investors scoffed while reviewing the offer. "This has to be a joke."

Homelander's eyes were on him in an instant. Not threatening just yet, simply watching. Waiting for another misstep.

"You want that much money for some walking drug addict? It's absurd." Another one said, daring to address John directly.

"I don't set the prices, Stan Edgar does." Homelander responded flatly.

You kept watching him, not really interested in their conversation, too invested in the way John was leaning back in his chair, looking like he was growing more and more agitated by the minute.

"Then tell Stan we won't let some lab rats cost us a fortune." Your father suddenly spoke up, turning to Homelander with a frown. Their eyes locked, and at the mere mention of lab rats, John's gaze became icy.

"Tell Stan Edgar?" He repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Who do you think I am?"

It should've been enough of a warning. But it wasn't.

"You're a product, you listen to the people who are buying you." Your father said coldly, which only made John's eyes narrow further. This time in something closer to dangerous amusement.

"I'm the Homelander." He smiled slowly, baring his white teeth. "I do not take orders from Stan or some weak, human garbage like you."

Silence. Homelander's gaze swept over the room, he could hear their hearts pounding in their chests, fear slowly beginning to take root in their minds. John inhaled the scent with unhidden pleasure. He wanted more, more of that terrified obedience.

Then his gaze finally turned to you. The smirk that appeared on his face was downright feral. "Oh, right. That's your kid, huh?" He asked your father, even though his gaze was fixated on you. It made you feel uncomfortably bare, the excitement from earlier slowly dissolving to make place for unease.

Your father nodded slowly, suddenly much more careful while choosing his words. "Indeed, why?"

John shrugged and turned to him again. "Let's see how well I listen, then."

He wasted no time, just stood up, pushing the chair back and walking over to you. Your chest tightened at the mere sight of him approaching you with that mean look. John, however, didn't let you think too long, he simply grabbed you by the shoulders, forcing you up to your feet. Everyone gasped, watching in horror as he manhandled you, bending you over the table right there, in front of them.

Your father immediately stood up, slamming his hands against the desk. "Stop that immediately-" He demanded but John's eyes shifted to him, already glowing red. The laser burned a hole in your father's shoulder, effectively rendering him incapable of further speech. Apart from pained, pathetic whines that started leaving his mouth, of course.

You couldn't react. Not with Homelander's grip shifting to the nape of your neck before slamming your cheek against the table. He wasn't gentle at all. This was more of a performance than anything else, after all. He easily kicked your legs open with his foot before moving his other hand to your pants, causing you to let out a yelp when with one sharp movement, he tore them off you, leaving you bare and trembling.

"Stop, please-" You tried, hands moving to grip the desk but he ignored you completely. The silence in the room was defeating. Nobody dared to make a sound, terrified and nauseous from the sight in front of them.

Homelander didn't bother with opening you up, he simply pulled his own pants down swiftly, his cock already hard and leaking precum from the tip. You could feel it press against your entrance for barely a second before a sharp cry of pain left your mouth when he pushed in, burying himself to the hilt inside you. Everyone in the room gasped and your eyes went shut, tears welling up in them.

"Eyes on your daddy, sweetheart." Homelander murmured with mock sweetness, hand twisting in your hair before forcing your head back so you could face your father. He looked horrified and pale, trapped between wanting to kill John and being unable to do anything while actively bleeding out and squirming in pain.

In this position, you could see every single person in the room, or at least as far as your teary eyes allowed you to. Some of the investors were staring in horror, unblinking and nauseous, others were shamefully looking down, either embarrassed or aroused beyond reason. Your father, however, turned his head away, unable to keep looking at his child getting fucked right in front of him. He just kept tightening his own hand over the gaping hole in his shoulder.

"Yeah, just like that. Keep looking." Homelander smirked and shook his head, hand escaping your hair to painfully grip your throat instead. He was pounding into you with single-minded focus, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. You were sobbing, tears streaming freely down your cheeks from how painfully deep he was thrusting into you.

He slowly leaned down, his other gloved hand moving to clench on your thigh and pin it to the table as well. The new position allowed him to fuck even deeper into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over again, making you moan and whine shamefully. "So tight. Never had a cock inside you, huh?" He taunted.

John's gaze then turned briefly to the people present at the table, x-ray vision allowing him to see exactly what was happening under that surface and he grinned with feral amusement. "Oh my. Did you know that two of them are jerking off right now?" The filthy chuckle that left him made you physically flinch.

After a few more moments of enjoying the fear and disgust, John apparently grew bored of it, though. He frowned slightly before shifting his grip on you, grabbing both of your arms and pinning them behind your back. His thrusts started growing more erratic, hips snapping forward, not caring about your pleasure or discomfort whatsoever.

He pushed in one last time before pulling out suddenly, leaving your hole gaping and letting his seed coat your ass instead. The absence of his cock filling you made you whine, as he didn't even let you come, just sharply pulled you off the table and threw you onto the floor like a discarded toy.

You hit the ground like a ragdoll, curling up on yourself almost immediately, sobs leaving your parted lips involuntarily. Homelander just pulled his pants up, watching with a self-satisfied smirk how some of the more empathetic investors were trying not to gag at what they just witnessed. Then his eyes shifted back to your father.

"Oh." Homelander hummed, gaze sweeping over the pale, lifeless body, blood pooling under your father's chair. "Well, that's quite unfortunate."

He sighed, eyes lightening up again and just a second later, everyone sitting at the table was cut in half by his laser vision, the upper halves of their bodies hitting the ground with a thud.

You looked up with terror, almost expecting him to murder you as well, but Homelander didn't even glance at you, he simply adjusted his gloves and left the meeting room, the heavy metal door sliding shut behind him. You looked around briefly before curling up on yourself again, trembling and sobbing weakly into your own arm.