I be getting imposter syndrome in my own home
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A homoerotic snippet in which the hero and villain are forced into close proximity? Thanks!
“If you move one more muscle. I’ll scream,” the hero said. It had been a long day. Getting his ass kicked by some new villain, getting the call for the special mission, getting stuck in a vent with the villain — it had been a long, disappointing day he wanted to forget.
He was close to losing his temper which was an occurrence in a millennia. He always managed to keep his cool but today, for some reason, he wasn’t necessarily keen on sticking to any sort of moral code.
“Oh, come on. This is very fun unless you’re claustrophobic.”
The hero sighed, hating how his enemy was touching every inch of him, except for his back. He couldn’t move. But the villain could, he just chose not to.
Like some medieval torture method. The suspense was aggravating the hero the most, the position wasn’t even that bad.
“I could get used to this.” The villain’s breath tickled the hero’s neck and for a second, the hero thought the world had stopped spinning.
“Cut it off, will you?” His voice was softer now and a certain melancholy took over his mind, replacing the raw and distasteful anger. He didn’t know what drew him to the villain so frequently. Didn’t know why he had called him, asked for help. Didn’t know why he needed to see him.
Or maybe he did, he was just too afraid to name it.
“You’re no fun,” the villain said, his finger boring into the hero’s side. It made him flinch embarrassingly. “Little puppy. Always coming when he’s called. Always doing what he’s told. You’re no fun.”
Aghast, the hero stared at him with from the side big eyes, hoping he couldn’t see the soft blush on his face.
“We can’t all try to dominate the world, can’t we?”
“You think that’s what I am trying to do?” the villain said, no, whispered, his lips dangerously close to the hero’s collarbone.
“I think you want to destroy as much as you can,” the hero said. He thought the villain would finally release him, not too thrilled to have this conversation. But the villain didn’t seem to have a problem with it.
“Destroying things in the process is collateral damage. Just wanna live without getting bothered. I’m willing to fight for that.” The hero laughed at that humourlessly, mouth splitting into a grin.
“Poor villain. Too popular for his own good.”
“Listen, pretty boy.” The villain grabbed a handful of the hair on the back of the hero’s scalp and pressed him forward, cheek into the cold metal of the vent with such a force that for a second, the hero couldn’t breathe. “I’ve worked for where I’m at and I am not ashamed of the blood on my hands. You may think you can live with it, too. But we both know that you are haunted by the ones you kill. Of the both of us, I am free.”
“Y’wanna ask me to join you?” the hero asked, panting as the villain pressed him into the plain surface.
“Wanna ask you to reevaluate your words. At this point, I am the only one who can help you. Quite literally. So be a bit nicer to your saviour or I’ll start to bite.”
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