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“Get the bloody cuffs already! Before these cunts wake up again.”
The voices faded in and out of Deep’s perception, heavy footsteps vibrating the floor under him. It was pitch black… or maybe he had gone blind. Or something more peculiar; there was a weight plate crushing his head into the desk.
He grabbed a hold of it uselessly. Normally, it wouldn’t be a struggle, but the preceding fight had left his arms limp and sore, and the plate barely budged.
Deep suddenly saw light; lots of it. Good, he wasn’t blind. He might be in a second, though, with the way Starlight was glaring down at him. He really couldn’t decide if he should curse her out, or beg for mercy, but he wasn’t finding the energy for either.
Starlight suddenly grabbed his collar, headbutting him ruthlessly before dropping him face first onto the wooden floor. It took him another few beats to re-orient to reality after that strike.
“You little bitch-” Deep placed his hands under him, shakily pushing himself off the ground as blood started running from his nose.
Panic started to set in as a large hand pressed down on the back of his thigh, while another swiftly pulled his wrists behind his back. Deep thrashed against the grip as his chest reconnected with the floor, but he was still massively weakened by the head trauma; he barely managed to get one hand off before the other was back on him, shoving him into the ground.
“Why don’t you make this easy for the both of us? It could be worse; we’re just putting you under a wee bit of… house arrest.”
Deep would spit in his stupid British face. Being overpowered by a human was humiliating enough, but when a pair of thick cuffs clicked around his wrists, he was completely mortified.
“Come on, what the fuck?” Deep whined, testing the durability of the metal; they were definitely supe proof. “Take them off, bro.”
“I’ll think about it,” Butcher chuckled, grabbing a hold of Deep’s ankles; he kicked his feet out desperately, but they were linked together before he could get a shot in.
“Fuck you guys,” Deep hissed; his bruised face pressed harder into the ground as Butcher linked the two pairs of cuffs behind his back. “What are you gonna do to me?”
“Well, it’s your lucky day, son. Cause I’m pretty sure we gotta get a head start before they track down your chip,” Butcher said, rising to his feet. “You and your flying buddy over there can spend some quality time together in the meantime.”
Deep planted his chin on the floor, getting a good look at Black Noir’s replacement; he was out cold, curled up on the ground in his own set of handcuffs. Deep realized with indignance that he was the one who was fully hogtied, despite being the lesser threat.
Butcher’s crew was out the door already, leaving Deep to continue struggling against his bindings. He gave up pretty quickly; even in peak condition, he probably couldn’t free himself from any supe-proof cuffs.
“Noir? Bro?” Deep called out hopefully. “Justin!”
He finally stirred a bit, before laboriously sitting up against a pillar. “What… Deep, what the fuck!?”
“I know, man. Can you break them?”
“Yeah, I think so…”
Noir’s head slowly lolled back, and quiet snoring filled the room.
“Fuck,” Deep grumbled, hitting his already throbbing head against the floor in frustration. “Wake the fuck up, bro!”
He waited in that awkward pose for what felt like half an hour, before his arms were stiff enough to need to reposition. He ended up just flopping onto his side uselessly. This was undoubtedly the most helpless he had ever felt; his gills ached from the recent assault, his shoulder was probably dislocated at this point, and his nose was still dripping blood. And all he had to think about in the silence was Homelander’s inevitable disappointment at their pitiful defeat.
“Deep? What are you doing down there?”
He tensed at the sound of the playful voice behind him, footsteps stalking ever closer until Homelander was finally within view.
“Oh boy…” He sighed dramatically as he studied Deep’s face. “Mission didn’t quite go as planned, huh? You look like you got hit by a car.”
“They were… more prepared than we expected,” Deep said, flashing a smile of false confidence from his position at Homelander’s feet. “But, we’ll get them next time, sir.”
“Next time…” Homelander shook his head, squatting down next to Deep. “I don’t think there’s gonna be a next time. You two, apparently, are not cut out for this.”
Deep pouted up at him, making a pathetic attempt to get onto his knees. “That’s not true, sir! Uncuff me, and I’ll go chase them down myself.”
“Yeah? That’s cute,” Homelander smiled affectionately, reaching out and ruffling his hair. “How about this, Deep. If you can get out of this yourself, I’ll give you another chance to get Butcher’s crew. If you can’t, well… I’ll just have to find something else for you to do.”
He grabbed the cuffs and pulled Deep back onto his stomach, drawing out a small grunt as his injured arm was tugged on.
“Alright then,” Homelander said warmly; he noisily dragged over a chair for himself, legs crossed in Deep’s peripheral vision. “Give it the old college try.”
Frowning into the floor, Deep ignored the searing pain in his nose as he drew in a breath. It was obviously fruitless, but giving Homelander a show was certainly not the worst punishment he’d endured. He started to pull his wrists and ankles apart as hard as he could, hoping to maybe break whatever connected his limbs.
“Be realistic- if you go after Butcher, and they manage to get you locked up again… Who knows what could happen,” Homelander mused, probably smiling in smug satisfaction while Deep paused to catch his breath. “You could end up like Translucent.”
“I won’t let them get the jump on me this time, sir, I-”
“Big talk. Are you gonna actually try and break out, or am I gonna have to leave you like this?”
Deep gritted his teeth, pushing his forehead into the ground as he twisted his body back and forth. He pulled the cuffs in every possible direction, but they wouldn’t even bend, let alone break.
“Alright, alright, don’t hurt yourself,” Homelander said, tapping a boot against the floor. “Do you think I’ve made my point?”
“Yes, sir,” Deep grumbled in response. “Will you take the cuffs off, now?”
Homelander tutted as he rose from his chair, disappearing from Deep’s field of view.
“You know…” Homelander said, eliciting a flinch as he tapped a boot against Deep’s rib cage. “I might keep you like this for a little longer. You’re always wringing your hands, trying to delay the inevitable; this would just make it a lot easier for the both of us.”
“I don’t mean to, sir,” Deep whimpered, trying his best to face Homelander as he loomed over him.
“It doesn’t matter, because I can do just about anything I want now,” Homelander beamed at him, seemingly more excited than his voice had let on. “And you really can’t do a fucking thing about it.”
“That’s not- that’s not necessary,” Deep smiled back up at him, attempting to mask his growing anxiety. “I’d do anything for you, Homelander, sir.”
“Of course, like how you took out Butcher’s crew like I asked you to,” Homelander grinned, stepping out of view again before grabbing hold of the connection between the cuffs. “I know you’re trying to be good, Deep. I just think I gave you more than you could handle.”
Deep’s arms and legs were yanked upwards as his chest left the ground; his attempts to free himself resumed when Homelander threw him face first over his shoulder.
“Sir! Sir, you can just, uncuff me,” Deep begged, sniffling in an attempt to keep his nosebleed from staining Homelander’s cape. “I won’t- I wouldn’t run. I fucking swear!”
The hand holding down Deep’s legs briefly lifted, but his worries about falling were cut short by a painful smack to his ass. His struggling ceased as he let out a quiet whine, eyes stinging with tears that were fueled more by embarrassment than injury.
“Even now, you’re still forgetting your manners,” Homelander said, rubbing a gloved palm over the area he had just struck. “Not even a please.”
“...Please?”
Homelander just sighed as he cleared off a nearby desk, setting Deep down in a kneeling position. Although he was grateful to get a better view of his surroundings, Deep wanted nothing more than to curl in on himself and defend his still aching face and gills; this new position felt even more vulnerable than lying face-down on the floor. He had to spread his knees apart to reduce the strain in his spine, resting back onto his shackled ankles. Deep swallowed and made every effort to still his trembling limbs, watching Homelander strip off his gloves as he hummed to himself.
“You’re scared?” Homelander said with a frown, placing a hand over Deep’s chest. “Your heart’s racing.”
Deep nodded cautiously, still trying to gage exactly how terrified he was expected to be. Homelander just smiled as he found the zipper of Deep’s vest, before slowly pulling it down. His other hand snaked underneath, stroking and squeezing his pecs like they were breasts.
“Wait- please… Homelander, sir,” Deep stuttered, cuffs clinking together as he twitched away from the touch; as soon as his vest was fully undone, both hands were busy exploring his chest. “I don’t- What if Noir wakes up?”
“What do you care?” Homelander pinched one of his nipples between his thumb and finger, just hard enough to draw out a hiss of pain.
Hands were moving down Deep’s chest quickly, feeling up his injured gills as he failed to hold back a whimper.
“Look at that,” Homelander said with a smile. “What’d they do to you?”
“Please, don’t,” Deep whined pitifully, squeezing his eyes shut with a groan as Homelander’s fingers continued to press against the bruised area.
“Still hurts, huh?” Homelander suddenly slid a thumb into an undamaged gill, eliciting a gasp of surprise. “I’ll try and be gentle.”
It wasn’t the first time Homelander had tried to breach Deep’s gills, but he’d caved to the squirming and pleading pretty quickly every time. This time, though, the look in his eyes told Deep that his begging was just going to fall on deaf ears. He focused instead on trying to slow his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest just exacerbating the discomfort of having fingers pushed into places they were not meant to go.
Homelander was being gentle, surprisingly. Just using his finger tips, not forcing his gills open any more than they could naturally go. When Deep’s shaking, heaving, and squirming finally slowed down, the feeling of Homelander’s knuckles brushing against his filaments started to draw shaky moans of overstimulation from his throat.
“It seems like you’re learning all kinds of important lessons,” Homelander said softly, leaning in. “What’d you learn today?”
“I shouldn’t… struggle,” Deep said, voice weaker than ever as Homelander pushed further into his gills.
“That’s good, Deep. Because it’s pointless, and you’ll just make things harder for yourself, right?” Homelander waited patiently for a dazed nod before continuing. “What else did you learn?”
“I’m not cut out for like, important missions.”
Deep wasn’t even sure if that’s what he wanted to hear, but self flagellation was almost always Homelander’s preferred form of apology. It seemed like it worked, and the fingers finally retreated from his gills.
Relief was replaced with confusion when he realized that Homelander was getting down ono his knees, pulling Deep’s hips closer to the edge of the desk. For a second, he was almost convinced Homelander was going to suck him off, but of course he wasn’t going to get so lucky after such a catastrophic failure.
Deep squealed like a girl as Homelander’s lips pressed against his bottom row of gills, hands gripping firmly onto his knees as he instinctively pulled away from the alien feeling.
“What happened to not struggling?” Homelander chuckled, breathing hot air onto the filaments of his gills. “Is this your first time getting eaten out?”
Although the comparison bruised his ego, Deep nodded down at Homelander, wishing more than ever that he could curl up into himself. He looked away as Homelander ran a tongue just under his lowest gill, before flicking it over his filaments. Deep shuddered, still trying to remain as still as possible.
Homelander smiled up at him, before flattening his tongue against his lowest gill, dragging it along the outside and occasionally slipping under his fluttering filaments. By the time he had made it to his sternum, Deep was a gasping and shaking wreck. Taking a break to rest his head against his thigh, Homelander looked up towards Deep again with false innocence.
“What do you think? And be honest,” he asked, running a hand over Deep's stomach. “Because I'd like to keep going.”
The only sound in the room was Deep’s heavy breathing as he tried to formulate an acceptable response. It was better than having fingers shoved up there, but the sensation was overwhelming, and his gills were still rippling under the thin layer of spit left behind.
“It’s sorta… a lot,” Deep said with a faltering smile, and it was the closest thing to an honest answer that he could come up with.
“I think you can manage,” Homelander said, rubbing his cheek against Deep’s thigh before wrapping his hands around his waist and peppering kisses all over his midsection.
Just as he started to feel ticklish, his gills were again being generously tongued at, with much more fervor than before. He couldn’t control his squirming any longer, and when Homelander’s lips wrapped around the lowest point of his middle gill, Deep would’ve fallen right off the desk if not for the hands gently holding him up.
“I’m not gonna bite,” Homelander said, reaching up to run his fingers over Deep’s chest again. “Unless you want me to.”
He let out another quiet laugh as Deep shook his head furiously, before going back down on him. Deep’s shuddering moans mingled with the sounds of Homelander’s tongue lapping at his already wet gills, before the quiet sound of metal clinking joined the chorus.
“Hold on- hold on,” Deep whispered, watching in horror as Noir rolled over in his sleep. “He’s waking up.”
Homelander paused, looking over at the slumped figure with detached amusement. “Why are you so worried about Noir? He probably wouldn’t even know what he was seeing, and he knows to keep his mouth shut, anyway.”
“I just don’t want him to… see,” Deep said, looking down at his torso with creeping shame; he’d be less mortified if Noir woke up to him getting ass-fucked than if he were to see him bound and barechested, with his bruised and spit filled gills on display.
“If he does, he should consider himself lucky,” Homelander grinned, pressing a few more kisses into his gills; when Deep didn’t respond, eyes still locked on Noir’s sleeping form, Homelander rose to his feet with a sigh.
“So, think you might want to return the favor?”
Deep quickly met his gaze, opening and closing his mouth silently as he tried to answer a question he didn’t quite understand.
“I know… Why did I even ask?” Homelander chuckled, grabbing a hold of Deep’s upper arm and using his other hand to push his knees out from under him.
When Deep’s stomach fell against the desk, finding his nose inches from Homelander’s belt, the plan became obvious, and panic began to replace his confusion. He swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth as Homelander pulled him closer, stopping once his head hung off the side of the desk.
“Sir, sir- how about, just, um… I could just, like, get on the ground-”
“I know, I know… But I wanted to try it this way,” Homelander pouted, running his fingers through Deep’s hair as he undid his belt. “You can handle it, right? You’re a big boy.”
“...Right.”
Homelander gripped his chin, lifting his head back up. “Then open up.”
Deep’s mouth was filled as soon as he obeyed, hearing a hum of approval above him.
“Just like that,” Homelander breathed, pulling his hips back slightly before driving his cock down Deep’s throat. “You’re doing good.”
Deep wasn’t really doing anything. He definitely wasn’t giving a blowjob; this felt more like just being a fleshlight.
Homelander was running his hand over Deep’s neck, feeling his throat bob as he fucked into it, holding his hips against his face just a bit longer every time. Deep started to gag, and he began to really wish that he had used the bathroom before this mission. There wasn’t any way he could communicate this to Homelander, so Deep just squeezed his thighs together as tightly as he could, focusing on relaxing his throat, and praying that he wouldn’t piss himself.
His softened throat apparently encouraged Homelander to push even further, gripping onto Deep's bound arms to keep him in place as he thrusted hard enough to slide him across the desk. Now, Homelander's moans were the ones filling the room, probably loud enough to wake Noir from his slumber. Not that Deep could do anything about that now, just like he couldn't do anything to wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Looks like we found something for you to do, hm?” Homelander said, voice too sensually husky for how taunting his words were. “I don’t know why I bothered sending you on this mission. I should just keep you around, let the other guys deal with William and Starlight.”
Homelander placed both hands on top of Deep’s head, teasing his gag reflex with the head of his dick; just as Deep started to relax, assuming he was meant to be cockwarming him now, Homelander pushed into his throat harder than ever. One final retch, with Homelander holding his head down like he had any room to pull back, and Deep couldn’t hold it anymore.
Homelander pulled out immediately, letting Deep’s head dangle off the edge of the desk again. He sputtered, catching his breath and preparing his apologies.
“Really?” Homelander said, disappointment apparent in his voice. “You pissed yourself?”
“Sorry, sir, I wanted to warn you. I didn’t mean to,” Deep rasped, wishing more than anything to be moved from the wet spot on the desk he was now stuck in.
“You know I don’t want to hear excuses,” Homelander scoffed; he bent down and pulled Deep’s head up by his hair, giving him a look of warning. “Just do your fucking job.”
Deep nodded numbly, mostly just grateful to have avoided his ire. The assault on his mouth quickly resumed, this time every pull-out punctuated by Deep’s sniffling; at least he could be grateful the nosebleed seemed to have slowed down.
“What’s with all the crying?” Homelander let out an exasperated sigh, reaching down and pinching Deep’s still healing nose closed. “Come on, it’s just a blowjob. You should feel lucky to be alive right now.”
The longer his nostrils were held shut, the more Deep thought that he actually might not survive this. His vision swam, and by the time Homelander’s hips pressed into his face once again, he barely felt the cum hitting the back of his throat.
Homelander pulled out slowly, unpinching his nose and using the same hand to cover his mouth.
“Don’t spit, we don’t want you to make even more of a mess,” he taunted, finally allowing Deep to gasp for air once he had swallowed. “Although… I’d love to see William’s reaction to your little accident.”