Hell is Hallowed Ground

Hughie arches his back, gasping as Butcher's tongue slides over his - -

"Oh, God - oh, fuck -" He can't spread his legs properly, slacks pooled at this ankles; his shirt's half unbuttoned, tie only partially loosened.

"There's a good lad," Butcher murmurs, beard scratching against Hughie's thighs. "Be good for daddy."

It's four days after the accident - Hughie's abdomen still throbs, but the prescribed medication takes the edge off a little.

For safety purposes, he'd been transported to Mallory's house after barely twenty-four hours in the hospital. Uncomfortable as it's been, they just can't risk Vought getting at them when they're vulnerable.

Hughie's just waking up when Butcher steps into his room, ever-present frown on his face. "Mornin', lad," he says gruffly.

"Hey," Hughie mutters, struggling to sit up all the way. "It's early."

"Yep," Butcher agrees, walking closer to Hughie's bedside. "Careful. Don't tear anythin'." He puts his hand on Hughie's arm, steadying him.

Hughie shivers, Butcher's touch warm on his cool skin.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" Butcher pushes back the blankets from Hughie's body and carefully lifts the hem of his t-shirt.

Hughie inhales sharply - the shock of Butcher's fingers grazing his belly sends a flash of warmth down his spine.

"Bleedin' a bit, Hughie," he murmurs. He touches the gauze cautiously.

"Oh," Hughie mutters. "I didn't notice. It's not - I mean, it's uncomfortable, but it doesn't hurt. I'm not in pain right now." He's fidgeting, Butcher's warm hand still splayed on his stomach.

"Let's change it anyway, yeah?" He starts peeling back the gauze, and sure enough, there's a little blood seeping between the stitches. He clicks his tongue.

"What?"

"Nothin'. You're healin' well, actually. Just a lot of bruising, lad. And you're gonna have a gnarly scar."

Hughie watches Butcher disappear and come back with a washcloth, rubbing alcohol, and fresh bandages. It doesn't take long to clean him up, and Butcher is so gentle that it causes Hughie to ache in other ways.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Hughie - " Butcher starts, unsure. He lets his hand rest on Hughie's belly, damn well aware of how intimate it is.

Hughie closes his eyes, leaning back against the pillow. "I like that. It feels like my own personal heating pad."

Butcher snorts. "Glad to be of service." He pauses - oh, this is a bad idea - and then gets on the bed, next to Hughie, keeping his hand on his stomach.

Hughie feels himself flush, but instead of blurting out the first awkward thing that comes to mind, he keeps quiet.

Butcher leans in, lips close to Hughie's ear. "You have no idea how glad I am that you're okay, love."

Hughie finally looks at him, eyes wet. "I - uh - y-you -"

"Get some more rest. Need your strength up." Butcher reaches for the remote control and clicks on the TV at the end of Hughie's bed.

Hughie stills, relaxing against Butcher.

He has a lot of questions, but he doesn't want to ruin the moment. So he turns his eyes toward the TV and lets himself drift.

I just want Butcher between Hughie's legs, eating him out until he's sobbing - is that too much to ask?

😇

Does anyone have any The Boys prompts for me - specifically, Butcher/Hughie? 👀

when butcher's got his face buried between hughie's legs, hughie's brain completely shuts down

Butcher damn well knows that Hughie is tougher than he looks - that much is obvious when he takes a piece of shrapnel straight to his guts and lives.

After Hughie's moved out of the hospital into more comfortable accommodations at Mallory's, Butcher takes it upon himself to look after him.

Maybe it's guilt because he almost got him killed.

In any case, Hughie's an easy patient - does exactly what Butcher tells him. He takes his meds, eats his meals, and does his physical therapy when he's supposed to.

"How's it look?" Hughie asks, grunting as Butcher peels away the gauze on his lower belly.

Butcher tsks. "Still a little inflamed, lad. You're gonna have a scar - that's for sure. But healin' well otherwise."

"Thanks for...doing all this. I know with Becca -"

"Shh." Butcher cleans him carefully, patching him back up with fresh dressing.

"Did you know the doctor said I can't have sex?" Hughie blurts out.

Butcher raises an eyebrow, and then a little smirk appears on his face. "Oh. Didn't realize you were havin' so much of it that it was gonna be a problem."

Hughie laughs - but even still, Butcher's hands on him feel just a touch hotter.

the the thing about butcher is he's gonna fuck hughie within an inch of his life, one hand wrapped around his pretty little throat -

- but as hughie starts to come, he's gonna pull him closer and stroke him through it, making sure he feels butcher's body enveloping him

hughie feels his stomach swoop when butcher leans down and kisses the scar on his abdomen, holding his hips still -

Sam could come from being kissed.

;)

There's just something very *chef's kiss* about season 2 Sam gettin' railed, yeah?

Sam's back arches when Dean's mouth touches his hole; when he whispers about how he's gonna fill him when he's ready.

Dean did not expect to walk in on Jack getting his cherry popped. 😏

"You need to show me a little respect, Sam," Benny drawls, nipping at Sam's bare thighs, pushing his legs further apart. "You're a lippy little thing, ain't you?"

Sam groans, fingers gripping Benny's hair. "Shut up - God, just shut up."

Benny smirks, humming along his heated skin, drinking in the sight of Sam's hole. "What you need, sweetheart, is a cock splittin' you open. "Fillin' up your pink with come." He slides his middle finger down and slips it into Sam's hole to the first knuckle.

Sam gasps, face flushing hot. "You -"

"Nice an' wet, aren't you? Like you knew I was coming." He starts fingering him, cock twitching at the squelch of Sam's ass.

Sam gasps, gripping the sheets, cock drooling over his belly. He's biting his lip, trying so hard to keep quiet.

Benny pulls his finger free, replacing it with the head of his cock. He teases him, lets precome dribble over Sam's entrance before pushing in.

Sam arches, clenching around Benny's dick, mouth slack.

"What would Dean say?" Benny whispers, filling him with each thrust in. "If he saw you like this? All nice an' tight an' wet around my dick?"

A whimper escapes his mouth, cock jerking as Benny fucks into him.

"Shoulda just asked for a good dicking, Sam, instead of trying to kill me. Could have bent you over and solved this right then and there." He grazes his fangs over Sam's neck.

Sam comes - shoots off unexpectedly, clamping around Benny's cock like a vise, stomach contracting as he makes a mess all over himself. His mouth's hanging open as he gasps for breath, Benny fucking him through the aftershocks.

"Oh," Benny groans. "Felt that. Felt your little pussy go off, sweetheart." He reaches for Sam's dick, and starts jerking him - knowing damn well he just came and is sensitive.

Sam cries out, clamping down again - a second, drier orgasm wringing from his body.

Benny groans, shooting off inside Sam, filling him up. "Fuck! Oh, fuck, Sam. Fillin' up your pretty little cunt. Feels so good."

Sam should be embarrassed, humiliated - but the dirty talk just turns him on even more. He can feel Benny's load inside him, leaking out slowly.

Benny pulls out, smirking. "Oh - oh, shit. Look at that." He touches Sam's hole where he's dripping. "Looks gorgeous, sweetheart. Should I eat you? Clean you up? Or maybe we just put your underwear back on, give your ass a pat, and send you back to Dean."

Sam whimpers, moving his fingers down to feel the wetness there. He presses two inside himself, rocking slowly.

"Oh," Benny groans. "I see how it is. Let me watch you for a bit, cher. Wanna see you come on your fingers."

Benny's gonna eat Sam out until he comes all over himself, and that's that.

Sam isn't loud in bed - lots of quiet gasps and moans, and Dean's gotta coax him to be more vocal about what he wants. 😌

Oh, I didn't get this one - but this isn't my kind of thing.

I'm sorry! <3

"You sure you're okay?" Dean murmurs, running his fingers up and down Sam's bare back, mindful of where he's still bandaged from his gunshot wound.

"I'm fine," Sam sighs out, sleepy as he curls towards Dean. "Just a little sore." He closes his eyes, bone-deep exhausted.

"Sammy?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"I just - it's barely been a week since - y'know. You were shot. I just need you to take it easy out there." He moves his fingers from Sam's back, grazing them over Sam's belly - over the wound there.

Sam opens his eyes, tilting his chin up to look at Dean. "The pain's manageable, Dean. And I'm - I'm okay. Really. I survived. That's all that matters."

Dean pulls him closer, grip tightening. "Just checking. 'Cause if you need to talk to me about it...well, y'know. I'm here."

"I'm fine," Sam says again, "I swear." He goes quiet for a second. "That's nice. What you're doing on my skin."

Dean smiles. "Yeah?" He applies a little more pressure, letting his fingernails graze Sam's back and chest. He traces his name with his finger.

Sam grins. "What - you branding me, or something?"

There's a light snort. "You wish, sweetheart. 'Sides, I've already branded you six ways from Sunday." He gives Sam a little smirk.

"Perv."

"You love it."

It's quiet for a moment, and then Sam asks, "Dean - back there. Did something else happen?"

"No. No, Sam. Everything's fine."

They both know Dean's lying, but maybe that's a conversation for a different night.