Archive of Our Own ^beta

The door to The Boys’s new office flies open, Hughie and Butcher storming in. Butcher stomps in first, fiercely pulling off his trench coat to throw angrily with no care where it ends up. Hughie follows behind, walking fast to catch up to Butcher’s long steps, averse to letting Butcher leave him behind.

Both men are arguing vehemently, which wasn’t unusual for them. In the past, Hughie would have left the Brit bulldoze over him, afraid to call Butcher out on whatever bullshit he was spouting today. Nowadays though, Hughie wasn’t afraid to argue back, no longer working with Butcher and fed up with his antics.

They don’t even remember why they started arguing as their fight transitioned into personalized insults and low blows. Thanks to Butcher’s resistance to defeat when he’s objectively against the wall. Their verbal wars only served to get worse with every passing day, insults growing viler and faces getting closer to each other as they yelled.

Their building conflict resulting in a fever pitch as Butcher clenches his hands around Hughie’s collar, pushing him towards the wall as he grits out more spear-like words. Hughie tries prying off Butcher’s rough hands as he stumbles back with no idea where he’s going, but the rough hands don’t budge. Hughie turns his head to see he’s a few steps away from being slammed against the wall and tells Butcher to let go. However, there’s no success, Butcher too focused on chewing Hughie out.

As a last resort, Hughie raises his fist, landing on Butcher’s cheek, yelling at him to let go a final time. The rough sound of the hard contact rings out throughout the office and creates a deadly silence.

Butcher stumbles back, face turning back from the force, but he doesn’t turn right back, instead just freezing there like he’s assessing what just happened.

Hughie quickly realizes he fucked up and tries to make amends, hands frantically waving around trying to say something. Anything that could diffuse their argument, but he finds his words dying on him. He’s trying to shoot, but the bullet just gets stuck.

Before he can fix it, Butcher turns back to face Hughie, sick smirk on his face like Hughie punching him has been the exact thing he’s been waiting for, desire for violence blatant. Butcher’s been hoping all this time Hughie would start a physical altercation, the Brit wanting to get his hands on him for so long.

“So, wee bugger finally learned how to throw a punch, eh?” Butcher mocks, a low growl that tells Hughie that Butcher is about to pounce like an animal.

Hughie is only able to stutter out a few “waits”, before Butcher grabs him by the shirt once again and rams him against the wall, pained yelp forcing its way out of Hughie’s mouth. The attacking man doesn’t stop there, proceeding to hurl Hughie to the floor with all his strength, the younger man wincing as his back hits the floor.

Hughie would love to rub his wounds better, but his eyes see Butcher quickly closing in. If Butcher managed to pin him, he’d might as well say goodbye to his life, so he scrambles to get away. He only manages to get on his hands and knees to crawl a few steps before Butcher grabs the back of his collar and pulls him back.

In a split second, Hughie resigns himself to the fact that he’s going to have to fight back lest he be mauled by Butcher, so he uses the momentum of Butcher’s pull to throw back an elbow.

A sickening crack sounds behind him, and the grip on Hughie’s collar is gone. The curly-haired man turns around to see what damage he’s done. He sees Butcher sheltering his nose, which now has blood trickling down both nostrils.

“You fuckin’ cunt! You broke my bloody nose!” Butcher roars in pain.

Hughie should feel bad, and he certainly does slightly, but the intensity of Butcher’s voice warns him that if he doesn’t get away or restrain Butcher, the older man might actually slaughter him and leave him as an example of why you shouldn’t fuck with Billy Butcher.

So, Hughie takes his chance and tackles Butcher to the floor. Butcher puffs as he hits the ground, and Hughie starts dragging his way up Butcher’s body, punching the man below him as he feels his hands try to push him off and squiring vigorously. Butcher swears as he hits him, which seems to do a well enough job of halting Butcher’s resistance. Before the Brit can make another move, Hughie positions his bent legs over Butcher’s arms pinning them on the ground, which places Hughie’s knees on either side of Butcher’s head and crotch front and centre to Butcher’s face, now laid back on the floor.

Hughie pants like he just ran a marathon, hand on Butcher’s neck for extra security that Butcher won’t wiggle around. Hughie finally calms down enough to focus his sight on the man below him. Butcher’s face is bloody, his lips and area below his nose filled with blood, nose a sickening red colour. The bearded man’s expression is upset, but it’s a silent kind, like he’s animal who got put away in their cage for misbehaving.

That’s when it hits Hughie, he technically beat Butcher in a fight. Don’t get him wrong, he’s under no impressions that he didn’t get extremely lucky that Butcher underestimated him, but that’s still a pretty big achievement.

Hughie giggles to himself, ‘Guess those fighting classes with Annie really came in handy.’

The punch and elbow didn’t come out of nowhere. The past few months Annie has been training him to fight. It’s nothing intense, just some self-defense basics that could come into play when they’re against an enemy like Vought. Hughie has no superpowers, so he needs to find another way to keep himself safe.

Annie taught him how to actually land a well-done punch, instead of grazing their cheek and falling on your face. As well as the elbow he pulled off. Annie coached him on that as well. Usually, he finds himself curled on the floor during their sparing, Annie not used to hold back her strength when fighting, but against Butcher it seemed to have worked.

“Get off, you wanker!” Butcher grits out, fed up with Hughie’s weight on him.

The adrenaline of winning the fight must be getting to him because the desire to gloat over Butcher, who’s arrogance seems to always be overflowing is too good to pass up.

“What? I thought you loved a good fight. Not so fun when you’re staring up at the lights, huh?” Hughie taunts, teasing smile creeping on his face. The smug man expected Butcher to shout more British swears at him or maybe try in vain to shake him off, but instead his usual irritating grin, blood staining his teeth, appears on his face.

“Speak for yourself, mate. Looks like you enjoyed a whole lot more than me.” Butcher snorts, pompous like he knows something that Hughie doesn’t.

I mean, yeah, he did enjoy it. Butcher is always acting like a relentless asshole, so it felt good to take him down a peg. Not only that, but he also left lasting evidence that he hurt Butcher, his nose now broken with blood still trickling down his face. HE did that to Butcher; he made him shed all that blood. It makes Hughie feel some sense of euphoria and satisfaction. It scares him that he’s taking so much glee out of it.

How would Butcher know that though? Butcher wasn’t exactly an expert at understanding other’s people’s feelings, but he was a rather good manipulator. Hughie knows that from first-hand experience. It’s hard to tell.

Hughie furrows his brow, eyes analysing Butcher’s expression for some kind of hint at what he’s trying to say. Butcher’s aloof smugness is no longer directed towards him, the Brit’s eyes gesturing towards his legs. In between his legs to be specific. Hughie follows his eyes, and it leads him to the bulge in his pants which very clearly stands out against his clothed thigh.

Shit. The satisfaction and euphoria he was feeling went straight to his dick. Hughie finally taking in that he has a boner with Butcher just inches away from it after a fight, starts panicking and stuttering, his words struggling to all come out at the same time.

Butcher snorts at Hughie’s reaction. “You managed to beat me; albeit it was a fluke, yet you’re still the bugger you always are. Whimpering and snivelling like a baby.”

Hughie’s expression darkens, annoyed at the man below him. Even when he’s being pinned down, face all messed up, he still has the gall to be a prick. Hughie has a fleeting thought but is unsure if it’s worth the consequences. Butcher has nowhere to go. Someone should teach him to be less of an unbearable asshole.

Hughie raises his open hand in the air and slaps him across the face. A loud noise ringing out.

Butcher moans at the strike, but it sounds off. The sound that flows out of Butcher’s mouth is airy and lingers. Almost as if he took pleasure in it? When Butcher faces toward Hughie’s face again, his jaw is set and his eyes are now glazed over, pupils fading in the darkness of his eyes.

Hughie has a hunch, twising his waist to look behind him. As he figured, a bulging shaft is clearly sticking out from Butcher’s pants. The man was getting off to this. He’d think it’s sick, but he really isn’t someone to judge him based on his own stiff predicament. Hughie turns back around to Butcher, a smile back on his face, no shame that he got caught being turned on after a fight.

Almost as if the Brit could read his mind, he speaks. “There ain’t no shame in enjoying a good scuffle, Hughie. The skin on skin, blood and fight for dominance. It's divine enough to drive any bloke crazy. Question is, are you going to let yourself sink into the pleasure? Or are you gonna run off with a hard on in your pants?” Butcher rambles, lust dipped in his voice as he tempts Hughie.

Hughie should say no and run away. These type of kinks isn’t him, or at least he thought it wasn’t. However, it was undeniable he was horny, view the rock-hard dick, and it was obviously due to his fight with Butcher. For once, he has communicated with Butcher via his favourite language, violence, and he found himself thrilled at the feeling.

Hughie crosses gazes with Butcher again, looking for something else to help him decide and he finds what he needs. Butcher’s dark eyes starting back at him, the man’s desire clear on his face, pleading that Hughie accept his apple of sin that he offered. Fortunately for Butcher, Hughie’s always been a people-pleasing fool.

Hughie finally gets off Butcher and both men hurry to take off their clothes, trying to make quick work of them, so they can go back to their relieving contact. The younger man had expected the older man to take the opportunity to ambush him, the young fool abandoning his advantage over Butcher. However, nothing of the sort occurs.

Hughie takes all his clothes off, now fully naked and Butcher is still shrugging off his boxers. The curly-haired man starts heading towards the couch, but Butcher clutches his wrist, pulling him slowly as the older man falls butt naked on the cold floor. Hughie yelps, managing to catch himself with the arm not in Butcher’s grasp. He doesn’t understand why Butcher pulled him to the floor; he was just heading to the couch for a comfortable place to fuck.

“You’re not suggesting we fuck on the floor, do we?” Hughie asks bewildered.

Butcher smiles depravedly, “Ain’t no place betta’ than the floor for a post-fight fuck, lad.”

“Are you sure your old man back can handle that?” Hughie goads, prodding at Butcher’s abdomen. Butcher retaliates by flipping him the bird.

Hughie has no experience in this field, unlike Butcher it seems, so he just accepts Butcher’s opinion without much thought. Mind back on the having sex part, Hughie slaps Butcher again, red tint lingering in the space where he hit, to get back in the dominant mindset he was in before.

The young man tightens his grip around Butcher’s throat again, enough to put some pressure, but not too much that Butcher can’t reply. “I was surprised that you didn’t attack when I was undressing, not to mention that you’re letting me top.”

“Hmph. You won the fight, mate. You get to do whatever you want to me. I'll take whatever you serve me.” Butcher says, making sure his voice his gruff.

Hughie has to bite his tongue, not to keen at Butcher’s words. An imposing man like Butcher telling you with his sexy voice that you can do whatever you want to him. That shit will kill you. But he needs to toughen up if he’s going to fuck Butcher like he wants to.

Another slap rings out, but Hughie follows it up with a kiss, but from faraway you wouldn’t be wrong for thinking the younger tried swallowing Butcher’s lips whole. Butcher’s beard lighly tickles Hughie’s chin and uses the hand that’s still on Butcher’s neck to brush the beard with his fingers without loosening his grip.

Hughie tentatively runs his tongue over Butcher’s lower lip, which is quickly responded with his lips opening allowing entry for Hughie’s tongue. Their tongues mix together as both men (mainly Hughie) release faint gasps and moan into the other’s mouth.

“I just want to rub off all over you. I love how your skin feels grazing against mine.” Hughie helplessly moans into his mouth as he pants into it, almost sharing breath.

“Then stop wasting time and get on with-” Butcher tries ordering him, but he’s cut off by Hughie’s vicious grip on his throat, halting his rant. Hughie is playing with the lifeline that is Butcher’s airway, the bottom of his finger pads juggling his Adam's apple like it’s a toy.

Hughie stares as Butcher shudders under Hughie’s hold, unable to do anything except lift his head to loosen the pressure on his neck. “Just a little force and you’re docile like a puppy. It’s amazing.” Hughie mutters in amazement.

He’s even in awe at the nonsense coming out of his own mouth. He’s never been one to be on the kinkier side of things, but the sight of bloody Butcher putty in his hands drag it out of him. He anticipates Butcher shoving him off, patience for mockery way past the limit, but instead the man below him releases an honest to God moan.

Holy shit. The situation was already overwhelming for Hughie, but Butcher’s moan makes it all too real. Like a weight being dropped on his head, God himself slapping him with a snap of realization into his mind. Butcher was INTO this. He already knew this, but it hadn’t really sunk in that Butcher enjoyed Hughie taking charge. Butcher was getting off to HIM, not using him as a tool or just a body to fuck.

Butcher licks the blood off his lip, and Hughie feels the man’s gulp pass through his palm still on his gullet. Hughie’s dick twitches and returns his lips on Butcher’s and starts sluggishly grinding on Butcher’s body.

The sound of their lips smacking together fill the room for a bit, before Hughie takes Butcher’s lower lip and pulls on it. Butcher grunts and his breath hitches, pang of seething pain as Hughie’s teeth dig into an open wound caused by their fight.

Butcher’s whine makes Hughie grind even harder against Butcher, both men groaning when their cocks occasionally rub against each other as they drag themselves over the other. The bearded man tries arching his back slightly, doing his best to helplessly chase the pressure of their dicks frotting against the other, but Hughie lifts himself up denying Butcher the arousal.

Hughie tries not to buckle to Butcher’s faint whimper at the loss and stares at him, gaze commanding the Brit’s attention.

“I set the pace, remember? Let me take care of you, puppy.” Hughie coos. He’s unsure where puppy came from, but it seemed fitting considering how Butcher would somehow growl like a dog. Butcher doesn’t protest, instead nodding and swallowing like he’s thirsty and Hughie is an oasis.

Hughie goes back to his previous grinding movements, but thrusts his mouth into Butcher’s neck, licking and nibbling at the skin there, sometimes raising to do the same to his bearded jaw. Butcher can only breath heavily at the calming warmth of Hughie’s breath and kisses, leaning his head back to give the younger man more access to his neck.

“You’re so agreeable when you’re like this. If i had known this would be all it takes for you to stop being less of an asshole, I would’ve beat you sooner.” Hughie teases. They both chuckle knowing that the chances of Hughie beating Butcher is close to 0, what’s happening currently certainly a miracle.

“Please, Hughie. I want it. I'm so pent up. Please touch my cock.” Butcher downright begs, writhing beneath him. Hughie wishes he had a mirror next to them, desperate to burn the image of arrogant Butcher submitting and pleading to Hughie like he’s the only one in the world who can make him feel this good.

Hughie caves to Butcher’s demands and manages to fit both cocks in his hand and starts rubbing them in tandem up and down. The friction connects them like an electric current, crackling and bursting sparks hitting in their lower abdomens as the arousal builds up.

Hughie notices Butcher shivering, biting his lip. The man on top grasps that the older man is trying to stifle his moans. Hughie moves his hand from his throat and entangles it in his dark and thick hair.

“C’mon you’ve already begged; there’s no sense in hiding your noises now. Let me hear them, please. Let me hear you.” Hughie whines, pleading to Butcher. The Brit lets a growl escape his throat, choking it out like a mistake. Hughie encourages him to let more of them ring out by coaxing him with soft “Just like that” in his ear.

Hughie feels Butcher grab his hand in his hair and dragging it down back to his throat. H wants it back there. Hughie feels a flame inside him start fueling up at the revelation. The mere inkling that Butcher might want him to play with his life like this drives him to another dimension of elation.

Butcher is always fighting and clawing his way for dominance with anyone who shows any kind of spine that disagress with him. He was taught to speak via violence and pain, so it’s hard for many people to understand him. It’s nowhere near healthy, but by fighting him they’ve come to some kind of comprehension. Butcher can’t always be the relentless hard ass, he also wants to be taken care of, cared for and loved. Hughie will take it upon himself to fulfil Butcher’s wishes. Doesn’t hurt that seeing Butcher submissive and looking at him with so much need is the thing of dreams.

The river of realizations about the nature of their relationship drives Hughie to speed up his hand, furiously working on their stiff shafts, now leaking and throbbing at every stroke at the hand conjoining them.

Butcher squirms vigorously under Hughie’s pace, hands clawing into the floor, feeling like he might leave marks into the floor with his bloody scratch with how hard he’s pressing his nails in.

“Fuck, Hughie. I’m close. Fuck, I’m so close. Go faster!” Butcher whines, eyes squeezed tight as to not see the lad’s reaction.

Hughie solidfies his clutch around Butcher’s throat, which makes the older man sob as his windpipe contracts. “Quiet, puppy. You don’t give me orders. I’m close too. I'll drive you there, just don’t stop your moans. Fuck, I love hearing them come out of your mouth.” Hughie pants, his nonstop jerking catching up to him.

Butcher does as he’s told, choked out whimpers and chants flowing out his mouth with no second thoughts. The sound of Hughie’s name coming out of Butcher’s mouth like he’s his saviour is a symphony to Hughie’s ears. Those thoughts are the last that run through his mind as he orgasms alongside Butcher.

“Butcher. Fuck fuck fuck. I’m cumming! I can’t take it anymore!” Hughie wails, his hand erratically pumping their dicks until white, hot streaks of white burst out of their tips, painting their hands and stomachs.

Butcher can only keen as the ecstasy of orgasming causes Hughie’s clutch on his throat to strengthen too much, choking him for real this time. However, the euphoria of his own climax makes him not care, trying to sink into the clear mind of a post-orgasm. Thankfully Hughie’s “dominant” side seems to have tapered off with his orgasm and he goes back to being the neurotic bugger he’s familiar with, fussing over the red mark he left over his neck. Butcher has to swat him away, unable to enjoy the boneless feeling of a good orgasm with Hughie all over him, unable to quiet down for even a second.

Once they both clean up and get dressed, Hughie is able to convince Butcher to let him treat his wounds and broken nose. He’s not an expert, but he can bandage them up for the time being.

Butcher sits on his desk as Hughie cleans him up. Butcher has been waiting for a few minutes for the younger man to ask a question. Hughie has never been good at hiding his feelings, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. For Hughie, that means constant fidgets as he bandages him up and quick glances at Butcher’s face. If the lad won’t start, then he’ll have to pull the question out of him.

“Spit it out, Hugh. I can’t tell you’re dyin’ to ask me something.” Butcher sighs, knowing stare pointed at Hughie.

Hughie’s eyes widen in astonishment, telling Butcher that he hit it right on the money. The curly-haired man’s stare darts to the floor, considering how to phrase the question he wants to ask.

“This is going to sound super cliché, but what are we? We’ve been arguing so much lately, and I think us fucking on the floor changes our relationship somewhat? Unless, I'm just being paranoid. You can tell me if I am because-” Hughie starts prattling on.

Butcher rolls his eyes at Hughie being Hughie, and grabs Hughie by his curls and pulls him in for a kiss. Hughie moans as he deepens the kiss, but it doesn’t last long, Butcher breaking it. The British man’s mouth still has open wounds, and when you’re not horny as hell, it’s quite painful to kiss someone else that shoves their tongue in your mouth, but the lad doesn’t need to know that.

Butcher massages Hughie’s scalp and gives him a soft and affectionate gaze. “Take it easy. We’ll figure it out.” Butcher reassures him and gives his signature cocky smirk. The kind of smile that Hughie found charismatic and appealing enough to ruin his life for and would continue to ruin in the future.

His smile calms him down, and it really shouldn’t. Trusting Butcher’s opinion on any emotional ordeal is just asking for trouble and yet, he finds a gentle pleasant smile decorating his own facein return.

“So, how are you gonna explain all this?” Hughie asks, gesturing at Butcher’s wounds.

Butcher shrugs nonplussed. “I’ll feed them some shite about a supe attacking me. A supe that I will hunt down and beat up, once we find each other again.” Butcher remarks with his gravelly voice, stare piercing Hughie’s, cheeky grin directed right at him.

Hughie has to stifle his giggle, pretending he’s going to grab another bandage, before suddenly snapping back up to latch his hand over Butcher’s throat again. The feeling now over familiar for both men.

“Are you sure you’ll win next time?” Hughie prods.

Butcher’s face remains unchanged, and he slowly grabs Hughie’s arm and pries it off his neck. Hughie winces at the strength of Butcher’s grip on his arm, a stream of “ow” flowing out of his mouth, as Butcher ruthlessly twists his arm and his gnarly smile grows even wider.

Brushing Hughie’s arm aside, Butcher thrust his other arm forward constricting Hughie’s windpipe and dragging him in between his legs. Butcher’s grin approaches Hughie’s struggling form and brushes against his ear.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be just fine.” Butcher husks, a cold shiver running down Hughie’s spine.

Grip still unyielding on his neck, Hughie gulps. “Yep, I can see why you’re into this kind of shit. This is really hot.”

Butcher laughs heartily. The lad was bloody diabolical.