I couldn't stop shaking.
Even after Homelander stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his glove like he'd just finished a satisfying meal, my legs kept trembling. My thighs were slick. My chest heaved with every breath. The worst part wasn't the pleasure — it was how easily this body had given in. How quickly it had betrayed me.
Homelander looked down at me with something dangerously close to affection. His eyes were still glowing faintly red, but the smile on his face was softer now. Almost proud.
"You taste exactly the same," he said, voice low and rough. "Sweet. Warm. Like lightning and honey." He leaned in, bracing his hands on either side of me on the table, caging me in. "I was worried they might have ruined you. But no… you're perfect."
I turned my face away, staring at the sterile white wall. Tears burned in my eyes — Annie's eyes — and I hated how pretty they probably looked when I cried.
"I'm not her," I whispered again, but my voice was hoarse and cracked from moaning his name just minutes earlier. "You know I'm not Annie. Stop pretending."
Homelander chuckled softly, almost gently. He cupped my chin with his gloved hand and forced me to look at him.
"That's the beautiful part, Kevin," he said, using my real name like it was a private joke between us. "You don't have to be her. You just have to be her. The world needs Starlight back. The ratings are in the toilet. The fans are crying on social media. Vought needs its golden girl smiling on every screen again."
His thumb brushed over my bottom lip, still swollen from biting it.
"And I need this body exactly the way it is. Warm. Wet. Responsive." His eyes darkened. "Mine."
I swallowed hard. The movement made me hyper-aware of how sensitive my neck was now, how every small shift sent little sparks through this new nervous system.
"What happens if I say no?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
Homelander's smile didn't waver, but something cold flickered behind his eyes.
"You won't say no. Not tomorrow when you're standing on that stage in your white-and-gold suit, waving to thousands of screaming fans who think their hero has come home. And definitely not tonight… when you're in my bed."
He stepped back and picked up the discarded hospital gown, holding it out to me like a gentleman. I snatched it from his hand and clutched it against my chest, trying to cover as much as I could.
"Get dressed," he said. "We're moving you to the penthouse. You need to rest that pretty new body before the big return tomorrow."
I slid off the table on unsteady legs. Every step felt wrong — the sway of my hips, the way my breasts moved, the constant awareness of the empty space between my thighs. I pulled the gown over my head, but it did little to hide anything. The thin fabric clung to my still-damp skin.
As we walked down the long, dimly lit corridor toward the private elevator, Homelander stayed close behind me. Too close. His hand occasionally brushed the small of my back, guiding me like I might wander off.
Inside the elevator, the doors closed with a soft ding. We were alone.
He didn't wait.
One moment I was staring at the floor, the next my back was pressed against the mirrored wall. Homelander's body pinned me there, hard and unyielding. His mouth crashed down on mine in a hungry kiss. Not gentle. Not testing. Possessive.
I gasped into his mouth as his tongue pushed past my lips. My hands came up instinctively, pressing against his chest, but I didn't have the strength — or maybe the will — to push him away. This body reacted on its own. My nipples tightened against the fabric. Heat pooled low in my belly again.
When he finally pulled back, I was breathing hard.
"You're already learning," he murmured against my lips. "Good girl."
The elevator opened directly into his penthouse. The lights of New York City sparkled through floor-to-ceiling windows. The space was huge, cold, and expensive — everything Vought's favorite psychopath deserved.
Homelander led me to the bedroom. A massive king-sized bed dominated the room, covered in black silk sheets.
"Take the gown off," he said simply.
I hesitated.
"Please…" My voice came out small. Annie's voice when she was scared. "Not again. Not tonight."
He stepped closer, towering over me. One finger traced the surgical scar hidden just below my hairline.
"You don't get to say no anymore," he whispered. "This body belongs to Vought. And this body belongs to me. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be."
My hands trembled as I pulled the gown over my head again. I stood naked in front of him, golden hair falling around my shoulders, trying not to cry.
Homelander's eyes roamed over every inch of me like he was memorizing me.
"On the bed," he ordered. "On your back. Legs spread."
I climbed onto the silk sheets, feeling exposed and small. When I lay back and hesitantly parted my thighs, Homelander made a low sound of approval.
He took his time undressing, peeling off the suit piece by piece until he stood there completely bare — powerful, sculpted, terrifying. His cock was already hard, thick and heavy.
He crawled over me, settling between my legs. The head of his cock nudged against my entrance, still slick from earlier.
"Look at me," he said.
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
As he slowly pushed inside, stretching me open inch by inch, a broken whimper escaped my throat. The fullness was overwhelming. Every nerve in this body lit up at once.
Homelander groaned deeply, burying his face in my neck.
"Fuck… still so tight. Still perfect."
He started moving — slow, deep thrusts that made my back arch off the bed. My hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin even though I knew they couldn't really hurt him.
With every thrust, pleasure built whether I wanted it or not. Soft, feminine moans spilled from my lips. My hips started moving on their own, meeting him halfway.
"That's it," he growled against my ear. "Let it feel good. This is your life now."
Tears slipped down the sides of my face as another orgasm started building — tight, hot, unstoppable.
Right before I came, Homelander whispered something that sent ice through my veins and fire through my veins at the same time:
"Welcome home, Starlight."
My body shattered around him, clenching hard as waves of unwanted pleasure crashed through me. Homelander followed right after, groaning my new name as he spilled deep inside.
Afterward, he didn't pull out. He stayed buried in me, stroking my golden hair almost tenderly while I lay there, panting, broken, and terrifyingly warm.
Inside my head, my own voice whispered:
How long until I stop fighting this?
And somewhere deeper, a quieter, darker thought answered:
Maybe I won't have to.