Chapter Fourteen: Promises and Partial Hysterectomies
Homelander's lips curled into his political, you can trust me, smile as he began to yank the curtains of Olivia's bedroom closed. He looked over his shoulder at Stormfront as he grinned. "So many people have telescopes in these high rises, I wouldn't want your woman first campaign compromised babe."
Stormfront always had a hard time seeing past her three-mile island of pathological narcissism and towering egomania. She didn't realize that this was the end of an independent woman by a fucking caveman.
As Homefront flexed his gloved hands and turned towards Stormfront, far, far away in the dim tent, Butcher couldn't restrain himself a second longer and let his painfully hard rigidity slide into her until he could begin fucking her painfully slow, making each of her gasps rattle with its intensity.
"I want," Olivia managed and lost her breath entirely when Butcher yanked up on her hips and pounded the head of his cock in the spongy mass of nerves deep inside her.
"Tell me what you want love," he ordered on a groan as each stab of his cock stole her ability to form coherent words.
"I don't want to spend my life looking over my shoulder, fearing that the house will burst into flames as Vought and Homelander crash down through the chimney and my family. Should I consider them already dead?" she gasped as a sob tore through her peaking pleasure.
Butcher shifted and adjusted her thighs around his waist and slowed his thrusting as he answered.
He nodded and dropped his lips to hers, swallowing her cries as he simultaneously pushed her body over the edge as she was betrayed by her body as it gave in to his touch.
Butcher lifted his lips. "I'm sorry love, there's a good chance anyone who knows you will be used to find you," Butcher murmured lowly as he sank himself as deep as he could until their intimate flesh wetly kissed.
As Olivia was caught up in an overwhelming cloud of orgasmic bliss and petrifying fear as Butcher wrapped her up and tried to keep his thrusting from becoming too erratic, wanting to be able to fuck her longer, back in Olivia's cozy bedroom with the muted grey bedspread, Homelander moved faster than Stormfront could react and clamped one hand around her throat, crushing the cartilage of her hyoid while his other hand plunged through her suit and into her warm abdominal cavity.
Stormfront's eyes widened as Homelander's strong fingers sliced her internal organs to ribbons, before scooping the visceral slurry onto the plush carpet that was in need of a good steam cleaning.
"Mein fuhr…." Stormfront groaned as she batted her hands uselessly at Homelander's forearms as he kept wetly scooping out her entrails, her uterus plopping wetly to the stained carpet fibers as he continued to tighten his grip on her throat until his fingertips ending up touching as they encircled her spinal column and shook her around until she ceased to make another sound.
Homelander let her bloody, broken body drop to the floor and washed his leather gloves in Olivia's bathroom with a lemon and ginger liquid soap.
He smiled at himself in the mirror and plucked a washcloth from the shower rack and dabbed away the stray drops of blood that clung to his golden strands of hair and across the strong line of his cheekbones.
Before Homelander flew off into the night back to the Vought building, he retrieved Stormfront's cooling corpse from the floor and stripped her ravaged body nude.
He arranged her on the bed in a complicated sexual position that was popularized in several big-budget porn films before snapping some pictures of Stormfront and the dead Dr. Dalton.
Homelander sent the pictures to his own nerd techs that he had employed.
He felt his lungs fill deeper than they had ever since Stormfront had arrived on the scene.
As Homelander flew across the skyline, he saw himself back at the helm of The Seven.
As Homelander returned to Vought and went about ensuring that the propaganda films began to hoist him back up to the top of the Supe food chain, hours away, the temperature continued to drop outside the tent as Butcher felt a twist in his gut as he came in several hot spurts with knee-weakening force inside Olivia's tight pink center.
Butcher raised a hand and pressed a few of his rough fingertips to her lips as he fought to catch his breath. "I love you," he groaned raggedly and felt a tremor run through her body where he was buried in her as she stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes.
Butcher felt a sudden spotlight on him, his vulnerability exposed as he dropped his face to the curve of her neck.
Olivia felt his lips press against the side of her neck and tension fill every part of him as she lifted her hands and pressed against his chest until he leaned back to look down at her.
Butcher groaned as his cock softened and slid out of her as she smoothed a hand from over his heart, up to cup his jaw.
Butcher was frozen in the silence before she spoke. He saw her as a goddess that had tumbled down from the peaks of Mt. Olympus and he wanted her acceptance more than anything.
Olivia pressed her fingertips to his lips, the facial hairs coarse under her touch.
She shivered as the temperature drop was startling apparent as the fine sheen of sweat dried on their naked skin.
Olivia wrapped her arms around his midsection as Butcher shifted to his side and tucked her close, tugging on the zipper of the sleeping bag.
"Promise me you'll keep me safe," she murmured against the bare skin of his broad chest.
"I promise," Butcher whispered raggedly as Olivia pressed her lips over his heart.
As Olivia let herself begin to surrender to Butcher's promises, all around the state, family, friends, and social media friends of Olivia were slaughtered at Homelander's orders. He was determined to flush her from hiding and have her publicly executed.