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day four ; knife play

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The assassin has him bent over the altar he has lain out in remembrance of Genji - a student he had many years prior. Four years, six months, and twenty hours prior, his memory bank supplies. He disappeared from the temple, blades left in his room, tipped over from a struggle, blood streaked through bedding and pillows. No matter how they searched, there was no sign left of the cyborg and Zenyatta had wept for him. His thoughts are interrupted by the trail of a sharpened blade dragging down raised titanium vertebrae, teasing wiring with a knife’s game, and he whimpers. A flick of his hand and he would paralyze or kill the omnic - he could not struggle.

Softly, Zenyatta’s fans whirl as he clutches at an incense box, still smoking from burning sandalwood rose incense. Between his thighs, the beast presses his thigh against his valve, covered by a modesty panel, one hand wrapped around the omnic’s throat to jerk him back roughly. “You still weep for him?” The oni hisses into his aural receptors, harshly growled and synthesized through the voice filter in his mask.  

“He was my student - I loved him as one loves the sun -” he replies, static filtering in through his voice as the cool blade slashes at his kasaya, fabric dropping from his shoulders to pool at his waist, slashed through his thighs and baring his modesty panelling. It trails along his chassis, nicking newly polished metal, trailing into the thinness of his waist pistons, teasing lightly at red and black wires there. “Stop -” Not here, part of him screams, too afraid be given voice. If you must, do this away from Genji’s altar. Do not let his spirit see this. Let his memory of me be untainted.

“You ask me to stop but you do not fight.” Protruding teeth of the mask trail along his neck, before the bodyweight of the oni leaves him. If only for a moment, before weight settles back against his back and a wet mouth has latched onto his wiring there, nibbling on hydrophobic casing. I cannot - Zenyatta thinks. Were you to kill me here, two souls would perish. “I wonder if your valve would open for my blade.”

Switching the hand at his throat, he slides down the chassis whilst the blade rests on his neck, tilted to press the sharper edge against wiring. “You hold a grudge against me but I do not know you.” Zenyatta is not ignorant enough to suggest it is purely his nature - perhaps political, perhaps a grudge against his now deceased brother. There is no way to know for sure. Down further, the demon presses against the latch of his modesty panel, breathing deeply as it falls away, clinking as it lands to the floor. A long string of slick drips from him, breaking and dripping to the floor as he shivers against frigid mountain air. The demon’s hand flutters over Zenyatta’s clit, pinching it harshly and listening to the synthesized gasp and soft sob. “No -”

“It is not a grudge.” He replies, rubbing his thumb in slow circles around his clit, tracing the lit numb and coaxing it from under its hood. “I’ve always wanted to taste you. I finally have you under me like I have wanted for years.” His index finger slip between his lips, stroking black silicone labia until the omnic shivers under his touch. “How sensitive you are here...” Like a puzzle, the pieces click together. Wakizashi at his neck, Nepali on his tongue, knowledge of omnic anatomy, the inflection of words and taunting laugh -


“I know you.” Zenyatta gasps, crackling with static as his fans whirl with stimulation. Clawed fingers twitch as he slowly pinches and strokes at the glowing nub between his thighs, building budding pleasure. Fingers slip against lubrication dripping down his thighs, leaving a puddled mess between them.

“You know me.” Genji - Genji, Genji, Genji, his student, stolen away in darkness by Talon - whispers, tongue dipping between pistons and wiring in his neck. Were he human, Zenyatta thinks, his skin would be mottled with blooming violets and cherry reds. “You have missed me.” The monk’s hands slip from where they’d been close to nearly white-knuckling the incense box and pieces at the altar to wrap around his former student’s neck.

Segmented digits thread through the dark hair, careful not to pull out strands in his eagerness. “What happened to you? What did they do to you?” The omnic asks, trying to tilt his helm back to turn his visual receptors to the oni - his student - desperate to see him. What do you look like now, my star? Kissing down the metal pistons, Genji breathes against his neck, fogging the chrome.

“Not here, not now. Later.” Genji removes his fingers from his master’s dripping valve, prying the clawed gloves off with his teeth. Shifting the omnic’s hips to wrap a leg behind him, the monk strokes through black hair, rubbing his fingers against his scalp. “Will you let me have you, master?” So easily slipping into a former role, long ago forgotten, only now to be revisited. “Let me make you feel good.”

The monk nods stiltedly, afraid of Genji’s wakizashi still pressed against the delicate wires in his neck, even as his former student runs a hand down between his thighs again, pressing two warm fingers into his slick valve. Hips arching, Zenyatta groans as his systems recalibrate to the sudden intrusion. Nigh virginal, he had abstained from sexual relationships for so long that his valve already ached with the touch of another. He’d been foolish to consider Genji not being impatient with his need.

“You’re so soft - I had not expected that.” He groans, sliding his fingers deeper, flicking his thumb across his master’s clit. The sudden tightening has Genji rutting up behind him, teeth digging into pistons at his neck. “Could I put my whole hand inside of you, master? Will you open for me?”

Genji screws his fingers into the sopping wet valve, chuckling softly at the static and glitched cry he brings out. The oni’s cock ruts against his master’s backside, trapped within the confines of his trousers as he stills his fingers. “No, Genji, don’t - don’t -” White noise sparse through his speech as automatic need has him rocking his hips, optical array flickering.

“Please, master. Let me fuck you.” Genji pleads, fingers wiping teal lubrication onto dark trousers, cupping his cock and squeezing gently. “Master, please.” Silently, stricken with an overwhelming need to overload, the omnic nods, rocking against the cock pressing against his lower back, trapped nearly between his valve and thighs. “You were made for me - look, you’re so hungry that you’re gaping…”

A low whining chirp flutters out as the omnic nods, one hand leaving Genji’s hair to cover his face in such a human manner - as if he could cover an artificial blush. Still his body heats, helm nodding in acquiescence as the oni pulls his hakama down just far enough that he could hook it underneath his cock and balls. Shifting them closer, Zenyatta whines, vocoder fallen into binary as the fat head of Genji’s cock teases him, rubbing gentle circles against his hole, smearing pre-cum. “You’re so sloppy…” The oni murmurs as he eases into him, feeding his master centimeter by centimeter.

The monk’s hips rise, walls clenching down as he tries to force the cock deeper. Mindlessly, Genji moans against his neck, blade clattering to the floor forgotten. Genji’s hands flutter to his master’s hips, pressing him further down until the head pops in. It is the only warning Zenyatta has before he’s been rocked sharply up, cock buried in him deeply in one fell swoop.

Another sob leaves him, wracking his frame and Genji cannot help but laugh, cut off by Zenyatta’s sudden clenching on him. “I’m sorry, master. I can’t help myself. You just feel so good…” Pulling back until just the head resides, Genji snaps his hips up, jostling Zenyatta, burying himself deep.

The omnic flutters around him, vocoder chirping as he struggles to retain some semblance of human language. How desperately he wants to whisper to his student, call him his star, his bright one, his beloved - beg for more, fingers alongside the cock, stretching him to breaking, until his student could see the inner workings of his valve. Instead, the omnic digs his hands into his hair, thrusting back as minutely as he could, clenching around him.

“Master, you’re so soft inside - it’s so hot, oh fuck -” Broken words babble from Genji as they have forgotten the threat of death, the altar, the temple - only a reunion, forbidden and desperate. Genji’s mouth traces along whatever metal he can reach, fogging it up with the sharp pants, hands clenching rhythmically around his master’s waist. “Let me come inside of you - please, please - master - let me make you come.”

The pressure building at the base of Zenyatta’s spine has him arching, gushing around his student’s cock when Genji’s hand finds his clit, pinching and flicking quickly, desperate to watch him come undone. The altar catches most of it, teal slick staining an incense box and smaller offerings. “Oh fuck, master, you’re so messy, you’re so sloppy, let me come - let me come…” Mindlessly, Genji begs, rutting into the clenching, wet heat of his master’s overstimulated valve. Wild and frenzied with the heat, Zenyatta nods, visual receptors failing him as Genji comes, groaning around wires caught in his teeth.