Chapter 1: McCree/Zenyatta: Bodyswap
McCree’s voice sounded odd coming from Zenyatta’s voicebox: it was still oddly low and modulated, but it lacked the control Zenyatta usually deployed. There was something human in it; it had an element of wildness.
In this case, that wildness exhibited itself in the form of a flirty drawl. McCree, wearing Zenyatta’s omnic body, sprawled in a chair as he used his new high-res optic sensors to watch Zenyatta fumbling with his new human body.
“You ever touched yourself like this before?” McCree asked with what would, with more facial articulation, have been a smirk.
“Never,” Zenyatta breathed. And there was a breathiness there: a kind of lilting, low rasp. It was the kind of noise that made McCree shudder a little in his chassis.
“Try the nipples next,” McCree suggested. “I know, I know, they don’t really serve a purpose, just try it.”
When the monk did– and moaned, jerking under his own fingers– McCree’s voicebox crackled with laughter, loud and static.
“Thought you might like that one.”
“Indeed,” Zenyatta gasped. “What else– what should I try next?”
“Why don’t we play beginner’s choice?” McCree said with a hint of smugness. “You ain’t ever tried any of this before; what’s intrigued you the most from watching humans?”
“Well…” Zenyatta, wearing McCree’s body, hesitated. “When I watch you… you see to enjoy having your buttocks touched.”
“Mm-hmm, sure do,” McCree confirmed. He sunk further into his seat.
But when Zenyatta tried it, his reaction was nothing near what the nipple experience had been.
“What happened?” Zenyatta asked. “When I pinched your nipples–”
“Here,” McCree said with a laugh. “C'mere. Straddle the– your– straddle my lap. I’ll show you something nice.” He patted his lap. Zen’s body was rather willowy, much bonier than McCree’s own thick thighs; there was still room in the couch for someone to sit over him. “Humans usually respond better to external stimuli, as our fancy friends in the medical field would put it.”
Zenyatta complied, awkwardly maneuvering his bulky human form over the omnic shape he’d once inhabited.
Immediately McCree grabbed Zenyatta’s ass in both hands, slapping his cool metal ones over the hot skin, sinking his fingers into fat. He laughed joyously as Zenyatta jumped and gasped under the sudden onslaught; he leaned forward and pulled Zenyatta’s human body against his metal one, sure that his chassis was getting smeared with sweat and precum. He kneaded Zenyatta’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart and slipping one cool metal finger between them.
Zenyatta moaned and rolled his hips seemingly involuntarily, writhing against the omnic under him and the fingers invading his asshole.
“Oh– oh my–” Zenyatta gasped, tears welling up in his eyes, unused to so much input. “Do you– can you–”
“Fuck yeah,” McCree rasped, a staticy crackle belaying his enthusiasm. “Fuck, you’re really gonna like this.”
He forced two metal fingers into Zenyatta’s hole; they were so slim, they fit with barely any stretching; they were so long, they curved and pressed relentless against his walls.
McCree had a passing thought that he should be careful with his own body; after all, presumably he’d be back in it eventually. But he may have been a bit of a narcissist, or maybe it was because Zenyatta was being so much more expressive than usual. Whatever the reason, all he wanted to do was show Zenyatta the true human experience.
“Part of being human,” McCree huffed, slipping another finger alongside the first two. “Is being fingerblasted until your brain melts. You ever had an overload?”
“No?” Zenyatta gasped again, sweat rolling down his body, dampening his chest hair. His hands grasped McCree’s shoulders “Never.”
“Then hold the fuck on and pray, Zen, because you’re about to get it.”
McCree laughed and started to fuck Zenyatta in earnest. He didn’t even bother to stroke the monk’s dick– he looked ready to blow at the slightest touch. His cock was so hard it slapped against his belly with each roll of his hips, leaving sticky strings of precum behind. His balls looked ripe and heavy, too, and the whole enticing package was flushed a deep red. If he’d been human, McCree would have already descended to swallow him down deep– alas, Zenyatta’s chassis did not have an articulated jaw.
So instead, he wrecked him the best way he knew how. McCree thrust his long fingers into Zenyatta’s ass, spreading them until he was sure the monk’s hole would be gaping by the end of it. He hooked his fingers deep, knowing from some personal experience exactly where his prostate would be.
McCree massaged and prodded Zenyatta’s prostate until the monk shuddered violently and jerked, spasming in waves around his fingers. Oh, how McCree wished there were more sensors on the omnic’s body. It would have been such a delight to feel his own human body orgasm around his digits.
Zenyattas shuddered and went limp against McCree’s metal form. McCree didn’t have to look down to know that his various bolts and struts were probably drenched in spunk. But that could wait. For now, he had better things to tend to.
Chapter 2: Jack/Gabe: Fucking Machine
Ludicrously expensive and extremely difficult to hide in the coat closet in Jack’s office, the VibraSaddle 2.0 was a thing of beauty. It was able to at least distract from — if not satisfy — the itch under Gabe’s skin. It could fill him up with the wickedly curved, bulbous head of its attachment; it could buzz until Gabe shook and collapsed on it, milked dry.
Add to it a few restrains and the occasional blindfold, and it made for a decent evening at the office. Gabe could pretend it was Jack rabbit-fucking him until he melted. He could pretend it was Jack massaging his prostate with his thick cock — could pretend Jack was gripping his wrists so hard they’d bruise as Gabe tried to keep his balance on the machine.
But damn it, Gabe was sick of pretending.
“Jack Francis Morrison, I am officially commanding you to clock out and fuck me. I need more lube and you need to log off.”
The strike commander slowly set down his pen, watching Gabe with a predatory smile as he undid the buttons at his shirt cuffs. He rolled the sleeves up and undid the top button of his shirt as he strode over to where Gabe was situated in the corner of his office. When he got close, he reached out to stroke Gabe’s face tenderly, thumb rubbing over the ruddy flush in Gabe’s cheeks.
“Log off, hm? Yeah, alright,” Jack mused. He scratched through Gabe’s five o’clock shadow, slipping his hand around to cup the man’s close-shaven skull. “That’s a good look for you,” Jack murmured. He clicked something in his other hand. “All tied up.”
“It’d probably look even better if my mouth was busy, too,” Gabe taunted. He grunted as the machine fucked into him a little faster, the curved head of the attached toy thrusting shallowly. “C'mon, gimme a kiss?”
“You want a kiss,” Jack repeated flatly. “I don’t think I want a kiss, though. I think I want you to suck me off.”
“Fuck yeah,” Gabe rasped, nodding enthusiastically, his gaze a little hazy. “Get undressed and join me.” He leaned as far forward as the saddle of the machine would let him go. The hum of the toy lowered as Jack slowed it with his remote.
“No,” Jack said. “Cock only. You don’t deserve it. You interrupted my work, Gabriel.” He slowly undid his zipper, fishing out the one thing Gabe had been craving all day. The sight of Jack’s thick, uncut cock — and of the soft brown hair peeking out of his zipper, and of the hint of muscled chest he glimpsed through the gaps in Jack’s stupid too-tight button-up — made Gabe drool. His hands flexed under the ropes; this would have been so much better if he could only touch, too.
“Suck,” Jack commanded.
Gabe mouthed along the soft skin at the base of Jack’s cock, licking the salt off and taking in the musk of a long work day. He groaned bodily when Jack — most likely not in the mood for teasing — grabbed him by the ears and forced him to take his whole cock at once.
No finesse, Gabe wanted to gripe. He jumped when Jack very suddenly fiddled with the dial of the machine, ramping it up to nigh-intolerable levels of vibration.
“Oo-ooh fuck,” Gabe hissed, Jack’s cock falling out of his mouth. He shuddered and gasped, pressing his face into Jack’s hip as the machine’s attachment wiggled and buzzed inside him. He very deliberately turned his head to mouth at Jack’s cock again, trying to get payback, however weak. He nuzzled the scratchy fabric of Jack’s slacks and tried to catch the head in his mouth again, but the toy under him bucked and pushed and pulled and sang, and it left Gabe unsteady.
Jack seemed to notice. He smirked and grabbed Gabe’s face again, feeding his cock back between Gabe’s swollen lips. He held Gabe’s jaw and fucked his throat, balls slapping against Gabe’s chin with every thrust, leaving a raspy rash along Gabe’s jawline. When Jack was just about to come — without even riding a toy for an hour, Gabe thought with a rush — he pulled out of Gabe’s mouth.
Jack viciously stripped his cock as Gabe was left stranded, mouth lolling open, drooling as the machine fucked him senseless. He’d be loose and sloppy, well-used, Jack’s, through and through. And damn it, that was worth any amount of overtime.
Chapter 3: McCree/Hanzo: Breeding Kink
“You are going to come on my dick, and nothing else, for the rest of your life,” Hanzo groaned. He grunted on top of Jesse, pushing the cowboy further into the sheets with the weight of his entire body. “My cock, my mouth, my hands on your body.”
“Yeah?” Jesse gasped. He lay perfectly still, body languorously stretched out, his cock pinned under his belly and leaking into the sheets while Hanzo crushed him. Just the way he liked it. “How’re you gonna keep me, huh?”
“Maybe I’ll get you pregnant,” Hanzo growled in his ear. He rolled his hips against Jesse’s backside, sliding his dick between Jesse’s cheeks, leaking precum onto the small of his back. “The dragons call for it every night. Every time I take you, they roar for me to claim you properly– to tie you to me with blood.”
Jesse moaned high and long at the thought. He tried to shift, but he was thoroughly pinned. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” Hanzo hissed. He mouthed at the back of Jesse’s neck as he continued. “To bite you until you bleed. To fill your belly with children. To make you my bride. To give you a dragon of your own.”
“Ah…” Jesse gasped again as Hanzo’s hand slipped between their bodies– slipped between his cheeks, to finger the slick, hairy channel of his taint. “Do it, Hanzo.”
Jesse yelped in surprise as he was abruptly manhandled, his ass lifted up just enough that Hanzo could feed his cock into Jesse’s hole. It was almost too much of a stretch, but when the thick head made it past the first ring of muscle, the slide was smooth. Jesse gripped the sheets tightly as Hanzo hilted himself. The archer ran his hands over Jesse’s back muscles appreciatively as he paused, gathering his breath…then thrust, smacking his hips against Jesse’s ass, making it jiggle.
Jesse grunted and bit his lip. The dragons’ call must have been strong tonight.
“What do the dragons say now?” he huffed, shooting a look over his shoulder. Hanzo’s eyes were closed, his teeth bared in a grimace that hid nothing of his pleasure.
“They say–” Hanzo grunted again and slapped Jesse’s ass as hard as he could, leaving a red hand-shaped welt that burned when Jesse flexed his ass involuntarily. The move made him clench– jump– moan around Hanzo’s dick. “They say you are talking too much, mate. They say I must not be doing a good enough job of filling you up if you can still speak.”
“You better– nng!– you better work harder, then, ‘cause I ain’t speechless yet.” But Jesse was breathless. His heart rattled in his chest. His lungs heaved. His back ached from arching into the sensations and yet he couldn’t get Hanzo close enough. He pushed back to meet Hanzo’s thrusts, clenching around him like if he tried hard enough he could milk the cum out of his partner. He groaned gutturally when Hanzo settled a hand like a vise on the back of his neck and pushed his face into the sheets, held him down, and used him relentlessly.
“Oh– nnh…” Jesse gripped the blankets until they creaked, his toes curling as Hanzo bottomed out, rabbit-thrusting in shallow little movements that pounded relentlessly on Jesse’s prostate. “Fuck…”
Hanzo grunted and pulled Jesse against him, fucking him faster, harder, until Jesse was sure that between the pace and the good dicking, he’d have a hard time sitting down for a week. Hanzo was vicious right up until the moment he came with a gasp, panting and moaning as his balls pulsed and filled Jesse with spurt after spurt of thick, creamy cum. He stopped like that, balls-deep in Jesse, his cock throbbing and filling Jesse up to the brim.
Jesse flexed; he felt the smallest rivulet of cum drip out around Hanzo’s cock, trailing warm and sticky down to coat his balls.
Hanzo’s hand stayed firmly on the small of Jesse’s waist, pressing him into the sheets as the archer extricated himself. One proprietary hand remained on Jesse’s ass, massaging the red slap-mark like an apology.
Jesse sighed, luxuriating in the come-down. His body ached in a satisfied kind of way. He felt a hot glob of cum leak out of him and realized that Hanzo was watching — the dragon stared with hooded eyes as a small river of semen leaked out of Jesse’s weakly clenching hole. Hanzo sighed and ran a finger through the mess. He idly pushed the slick back in, fingering Jesse gently, almost absentmindedly, like he was hypnotized by the soft clutch of Jesse’s insides.
“We can’t let it go to waste, now can we?” Hanzo asked breathlessly, still panting from exertion.
“Nah,” Jesse rumbled, relaxing back into his bed. “You’re gonna take of me, ain’t ya? Keep me full…fuck me until it takes. Right?”
“Of course, my love,” Hanzo murmured. He pressed a kiss to the small of Jesse’s back, lapping up the salt that had gathered there, and held him tenderly. “Always.”
Chapter 4: McCree/Sombra: Face-Fucking
“You are the dumbest person I’ve ever met. I can’t believe I’m going to fuck you,” Sombra muttered as she knelt and started unbuckling McCree’s belt.
“Well golly gee,” McCree drawled boredly, stubbing out his cigar. “I’m downright flattered, Miss Colomar.”
“Don’t call me that,” Sombra groused.
“What, your name?” McCree sneered. “Fine. I got other names for you. Bitch. Cum dumpster. Pain the ass piece of shit that knows too much and takes pride in holding it over people. What?” he snapped. “Not gonna correct me?”
“Only two of those are true, and you know it,” Sombra said indignantly. “I can be extremely kind — when the situation calls for it. None of the neighborhood tías would ever call me a bitch.”
McCree grinned. It was a warmer sort of grin, brimming with laughter. “Not gonna deny the cum dumpster jab?”
Sombra shrugged. “It’s at least half-true.”
“Fuck yeah, it sure is. ‘Sides, None of those neighborhood ladies’ve ever seen you like this.” McCree’s hand were big enough to cup Sombra’s entire jaw in one palm, and he did so roughly, without care for Sombra’s comfort. He gripped her tight enough to make her jawbone creak — to make her aware of the fact that McCree could, and had, rent metal with this hand before.
“No, but you won’t either,” Sombra snapped. “Apagando las luces.”
McCree didn’t flinch in the sudden dark, but the fine muscles of his abdomen twitched under Sombra’s hands, betraying his surprise. Sombra ran her nails over the rough skin, scratching into the thick body hair that covered McCree’s belly. Her breath ghosted over the shadow of McCree’s dick.
It was — for lack of a better word — monstrous. It was thick enough that she needed more than one hand to wrap all the way around it and long enough that regular sex was out of the question. Of course, Sombra had always been the creative sort.
Abruptly she mouthed over the head, sighing as it stretched her jaw open. She sucked lazily, sinking down into a pleasant haze as she adjusted her admittedly petite mouth around his stupidly thick cock.
“Fuckin– that ain’t fair, girl,” McCree growled. Suddenly there were hands in her hair. Rough hands, indelicate hands. They fisted in her hair and yanked, shoving her down on McCree’s cock. “You wanna play dirty? Fine. We’ll get dirty.”
McCree grunted as he forced his way into Sombra’s throat. She was used to the stretch, but it always took some adjusting. She liked the way the spongy, firm flesh felt on her sensitive tongue. She liked the bitter flavor, and the musky salty tang of unwashed skin. She liked the weight of McCree’s balls on her chin, and of the wall of heat of his entire towering body over her.
She may have despised McCree, but Goddamn did she like sucking his cock.
She moaned and gagged when McCree hit the back of her throat. That was the only time he paused. He shoved back in the second she stopped choking, as if his only concern was getting vomit on his lap. He groaned and rested his thumbs on Sombra’s jaw, as if he could somehow force her mouth wider. As if he could stretch and reshape her flesh into the perfect toy.
“You got a pretty mouth, for all the shit that comes out of it,” McCree rumbled, idly thrusting into Sombra’s throat.
Sombra stuck her middle finger up at him. She even activated the LEDs on her glove just so he could see it in the dark.
McCree belly laughed. It made his balls bounce on her chin in a way that was wholly weird. In lieu of any further response she sunk down further, tilting her head so she could take him deeper. If he would just give her a better angle– and there. He hunched over her, grabbed the back of her head, pushed her down with just the extra force she needed.
Sombra groaned and sighed as her nose met pubic hair. She took in the unwashed, sour smell of too many days on the road. Her throat felt like it’d been rubbed down with coarse sandpaper; her lungs screamed for air. Every signal in her body screamed that she was going to shut down, but Sombra only swallowed harder, reveling in the hot length that filled her up. There was a distant splash of heat in her belly, and then was McCree grunting like an animal on top of her, curling in weak little shudders over her head, like she was a lifesaver in the middle of the ocean. His balls drew up and shuddered as his dick pulsed in her mouth. Fuck, she could feel every vein throb as she tried her best to suck the soul of the stupid needy cowboy.
She pulled off and wiped her mouth. Snapping her fingers for the lights, she blinked against the sudden brightness.
McCree was a mess. Still huffing, his softening dick hanging out of his pants, his hat on sideways and his cheeks a high red. She smirked. Good enough work for one night.
Chapter 5: Symmetra & Hanzo: cuddling
When they first met, Satya and Hanzo did not expect to get along. Both had somewhat prickly exteriors, and both had their own deep-seated issues that would, as all bets hinged, have prevented them from being even remotely friendly to each other.
Hanzo often drank until his edges were blunted, and Satya was known for getting so involved in her work that she neglected even the most basic of social graces. Butboth were fastidious about physical endurance, grace, and balance, even in the hardest of circumstances.
The first intersection of their paths was due to yoga: Satya rose just before dawn, took her mat to the large rec room that had South-facing floor-to-ceiling windows, and rolled out her mat. She ignored the form of the oldest Shimada, seated seiza and staring with lidded eyes at the breaking dawn.
She performed her opening stretches and did some deep breathing. And gradually, Hanzo joined her. Over the course of the next several mornings, they started to sync up their routines. The first time they even spoke, it was just so that Satya could correct Hanzo’s foot placement in a series of positions; the next time it was Hanzo tilting Satya’s spine into a less stressful arc.
Their friendship was a strange one from all outside perspectives. But to them… it made sense. They could respect each other, and in truth, there was a tender fondness between them. They may have initially corrected each other out of a need for order, but their talks quickly shifted from formal instruction to more gentle nudges.
As the seasons turned cool, they started to cuddle. The shift seemed natural. They shared the cushy couch in the rec room, taking up its entire length with their bodies. Satya sat at one end in a thick sweater, unused to even the slightest chill, with a tablet full of schematics in her hands. Her long legs extended over the couch, clad in the only casual clothes she owned, including a cozy pair of socks Hanzo had given her. On the other end, Hanzo could be found reading the latest installment of the romance novel series he borrowed from Mei. His own legs intertwined with Satya’s. They shared one of the the thick afghans Ana had crocheted.
There were even rumors: were they dating? Hooking up? Satya had dismissed all advances from a disappointed Fareeha on the grounds that she was aromantic and not interested in relationships– and Hanzo frequently wore a stretched-out shirt that bore the word “Top” in all caps. Naturally there was some confusion from others.
There wasn’t anything to it, not really. They simply fit together like two halves of a puzzle. Their bodies complemented each other; their personalities meshed. Hanzo knew when Satya wanted silence, and Satya knew when Hanzo needed to talk out his feelings.
The only thing that could break their calm, insulated relationship was an intruder– namely, literally anyone that interrupted their scheduled cuddle time. They may not have been dating, but they’d glare at you like you’d completely ruined the mood if you so much as closed the door to the rec room too loud. And if you actually tried to talk to them? God help you– you’d be facing the double glare of death.
Between the two of them, they could destroy cities. Lucky for everyone else, all they wanted was a little time alone on the couch to relax.
Chapter 6: McCree/Ana: knotting
This chapter is set in an A/B/O au, with alpha McCree and Omega Ana.
“You should be more careful,” a voice hissed in McCree’s ear. He whirled around, only to see Captain Amari behind him. He let his shoulders drop, though something about being snuck up on still rattled him. Ana smelled…well, amazing was one word for it.
“I said you should be more careful, pup,” Ana repeated. “Ruts are dangerous when left unchecked.” She wrinkled her nose, her fine features contorting in a grimace. “You stink of it. Let me take you to quarantine; I’m sure trainee Ziegler can handle you from there.”
“Wh– no!” McCree, against all better instincts, surged forward. “I don’t need a damn quarantine.”
"I’m afraid I don’t quite believe you,” Ana said sternly. She very deftly grabbed McCree’s ear and yanked him down the hall. With each successive group of amused onlookers they passed, McCree’s temper rose. He was distracted, however, by the fact that Ana smelled damn nice. The captain gave off some kind of sandalwood and rosehip smell, spicy and woodsy and fucking good. The little whiffs he got off her hand by his face was near enough to send him swooning.
Actually, now that she’d mentioned it, he was feeling a little warm. And his pants were a little tight. And some of the alphas he passed looked a little more punchable than usual.
Maybe she was onto something.
“Real quick– hear me out,” McCree blurted. He stopped dead in the hallway and yanked his head away from Ana’s hand with a growl. Surprisingly, she let it go.
Ana raised a well-defined eyebrow in question.
McCree took a deep — both to steady himself and take in the delectable smells coming off the omega — and leaned his broad frame into Ana’s side, rubbing up on her like a needy housecat. “Captain, you could help me. And I know what you like already…”
“Heats are different than ruts, Jesse,” Ana said with a sniff. “You accompanying me through mine does not mean I’ll indulge you through yours.”
“Please?” Jesse whined. “I’ll be good for you. So good. I won’t bite this time. I promise.” He nuzzled into Ana’s hair; she huffed a small, indulgent laugh, and patted his cheek.
“Very well,” Ana said reluctantly. She interrupted Jesse’s yip of glee with a stern finger over his lips. “But if you try to claim me this time, I will cut your cock off and serve it to you on a bun.”
“You’re a modern woman who don’t need no man, I get it, yeah,” McCree said with a grin. He immediately closed the miniscule gap between them, wrapping his hands around her waist. He groped the omega, nuzzling her long black hair and taking in her smell happily, uncaring of the time (broad daylight) or the place (just outside the busy rec room).
She allowed the petting for a minute or two, rolling her eyes a bit when McCree started to literally rut against her. It was only subtle movements at first, but when he started to actually start grunting a little, she gently pushed him away. “I have a reputation to maintain, Jesse.”
“Mmm-hmm,” McCree hummed absently. He rubbed up against Ana again, this time grinding against her backside like maybe if he got close enough he could feel her slick through the several layers of fabric between them. He mouthed at the back of the Captain’s neck, just where her hair was swept so the side so that it exposed her shoulders.
“McCree,” she said more sharply.
“I need you, Ana,” Jesse moaned. “Please.“
An audience had started to gather. McCree was surprised Ana allowed it; she was so private most of the time, but… it looked like Ana had changed her mind about her reputation. Ana smirked at the people that crowded around them. It was mostly a mix of other alphas, all drawn in by McCree’s offensive alpha stink. They may have initially come looking for a fight — but now it looked like they were waiting for a show.
Ana indulged them, and indulged McCree.
McCree gently worked Ana’s pants down her hips, still rutting, as Ana started talking to the people that had come to watch. He didn’t listen; it was something about letting a rut go too long without being handled properly. He didn’t care if he was being made an example of; all he wanted was a slick hole to sink into. Ana may not have been a stereotypical omega in attitude, but she had all the parts, and her body was as affected by his rut as McCree’s was.
McCree slipped a finger between her lips and hissed at how wet she was; yet she went on with her talk to the others with barely a gasp, her cheeks just barely tinged pink.
McCree felt her up more insistently, jealous of every other person that had her attention. He rubbed his cock between her asscheeks and rutted in the wet gap between her thighs, trying to focus long enough to feed his cock into her hole. She was so much shorter than him– not petite, but strongly built. If she’d really wanted to, she probably could have crushed his dick just by flexing her thighs.
But she didn’t. To McCree’s disbelief she let him rut against her — let him pull her close, use her roughly. She let him shove his cock into her willing cunt, teasing his knot against her. She let him show her pussy off to her subordinates; let her use his cock as an example of a long-neglected knot, his balls ripe and heavy, full of seed from his ongoing rut.
McCree gasped and grunted, pulled Ana against him, pounding into her until the hall was full of not just his own hungry noises, but the wet sounds of her pussy, and of the crowd panting, their eyes hungry.
She squeezed down on him once and he immediately came, spilling wet between her thighs as she encouraged him to bury his dick deep. He whined as his knot swelled, locked in her powerful channel. Despite his best efforts, the angle was awkward. Lines of mixed slick and cum dripped down Ana’s inner thighs; little pearly globs escaped with every pulse of her pussy. McCree rutted there, overwhelmed with the high of orgasm, still whining when Ana’s hand abruptly yanked on his hair to pull him away. McCree startled — he’d been about to bite her— and came back to his senses. Even in his rut-induced haze, McCree wouldn’t dare disobey his captain.
Ana patted Jesse’s face fondly, though the angle was awkward. She sent on of the observing alphas away to alert the medical staff of Jesse’s condition, straightened her clothes as best she could, and addressed the crowd.
"And that is why you don’t let your ruts get out of hand.”
Chapter 7: Doomfist/Hanzo: Overstimulation
He’d come once. He’d come twice. He’d tried for a third time, and blacked out for half a second. Hanzo was tired. Yet the hands on his body never stopped moving.
“Well, Hanzo?” Akande crooned in his ear. “Have you had enough?”
“Never,” Hanzo gasped into the sheets. He was currently draped over Akande’s generous lap, limp as week-old lettuce. “It was a stupid bet. Why are you still doing this?”
Akande chuckled. His voice rumbled pleasantly in Hanzo’s ear, deep and warm like the wind just before a summer storm hits. Yet his hands, cupping Hanzo’s buttocks, were warmer still. They were warm from massaging Hanzo’s hole and spanking his ass — and from slowly jerking Hanzo off until he was on the verge of a blackout.
“Do you think you can do it again?” He said in lieu of an answer to Hanzo’s question. “It’s only a couple hours until sunrise. You did say you would join Talon if you were too weak to make it through an entire night. It was– what was the phrase you used?” He squeezed Hanzo’s ass, kneading it boredly, like he was thinking of something.
Then: smack. “I asked: what was the phrase you used?”
“A dragon’s stamina,” Hanzo gasped. He writhed on Akande’s lap against the pain, though as hard as he struggled he wasn’t sure if it was so he could get away or move closer.
“That was it,” Akande said with a curt nod. “A dragon’s stamina…and what a wild thing you are, Mr. Shimada. I’d love to have that ferocity on the field with my team.”
“I am uninterested in your team,” Hanzo snarled– then flinched when Akande’s muscular hand swung down and pummeled his already sensitive cheeks.
“We’ll see,” Akande said simply. He shrugged his massive shoulders.
Damn him, but the man was still dressed. A fine white suit. Black lapels. Leather shoes, oiled so well that Hanzo’s cum had simply slipped off the hydrophobic surface. He had removed the suit jacket when he and Hanzo had entered the hotel above the restaurant, hanging it up in the provided closet as if he had not a care in the world for what they were about to do.
Hanzo, in contrast, had ripped off his suit and tie, shucking the rest of his outfit quickly. He had thought this would be an easy bet. A simple tryst, Hanzo humoring the man that was courting him for his skills, and then they would go their separate ways. He hadn’t expected an actual challenge.
Hanzo was brought out of his reverie by another slap on the ass. He jumped and inhaled sharply; he shuddered when the same hand then cupped the bruised cheek and massaged the tender skin. Akande’s hands were more calloused than one might have expected from a social elite, but they were also firm in their movements. Calculated. Confident.
Hanzo moaned tiredly when Akande grabbed Hanzo’s poor, abused balls. They were swollen and red, tender to the touch. He’d come three times so far, each orgasm more intense than the last. He wasn’t even sure he could get it up again, but the challenge necessitated it. Still, Hanzo flinched, his hot skin hypersensitive to any touch. But Akande ignored the jerk of Hanzo’s smaller form in his lap. In fact, Hanzo was sure he saw a faint smirk on the man’s handsome face.
Akande rolled Hanzo’s balls in his palm, cupping them like a prize. He massaged first one testicle, then the other, rubbing the thin skin of Hanzo’s sac like he was playing with a favorite toy.
“Can you really take another round?” Akande wondered out loud. “I won’t be gentle this time.”
“You weren’t gentle before,” Hanzo grumbled. He whined when Akande squeezed his sac threateningly. Hanzo bit his lip; it was good.
“No, but I can be worse,” Akande said, his voice rough on the edges.
Abruptly the hand left Hanzo’s balls and ass alone, and instead gripped his only just-now responding dick. He’d gone soft after the last round– had thought maybe there’d be a break somewhere during the evening– but no. Akande seemed insistent on proving something. Hanzo whined, unsure what he was feeling anymore. His balls throbbed. The touch of warm skin to his sensitive shaft was borderline painful. His stomach and thighs were coated with so much cum that no lube was necessary, but Hanzo’s dick felt downright abused.
And still, he responded. His cock hardened incrementally as Hanzo writhed and moaned under Akande’s touches. To his credit, Akande was gentle: he stroked Hanzo with a loose grip, slowly jerking him off in the warm tunnel of his oversized fist. His huge thumb rubbed little circles into Hanzo’s glans, pressing just a hint of nail into the slit until Hanzo yelped, hips jerking.
“Enough–” Hanzo started.
“Not yet,” Akande growled. The crime leader’s voice sounded rougher than it had a minute ago; and now that Hanzo was more aware, he noticed that the bulge pressing into his belly was more pronounced than it had been.
“Please,” Hanzo begged. He gripped Akande’s slacks for purchase as the man slowly, steadily worked him into a frenzy, bucking and pulling, rubbing off or running away– who knew– just moving, trying to get a reprieve.
His last release was downright painful. Hanzo grunted as his body suddenly bowed, overcome with what he was sure at first was a cramp. His ass clenched, his balls pulsed, his toes curled. He panted, nearly screaming as one last, weak spurt of cum coated Akande’s slacks.
When the world finally stopped spinning, Hanzo looked up at Akande with teary eyes.
“Enough. Where do I sign?”
“Do you need help, Reinhardt?”
Reinhardt startled, jumping as he tried to hide the mess on his chest. It was useless: his shirt was clearly soaked through — and his nipples still gleamed wetly. Reinhardt flushed as he noticed Hanzo’s interested look.
“Ah– no, thank you,” Reinhardt said awkwardly. “No, I– I will be fine.”
“It is just…” Hanzo paused, as if evaluating something. “I saw you rush away, and I was worried…and then I saw…”
Reinhardt completed the sentence for him. Saw you squeezing your nipples. Saw milk.
“O-oh…” Reinhardt stuttered. “I see.” Embarrassed and somewhat ashamed, he turned away from his friend. Hanzo had been a good companion; it was a shame he would lose him now.
“You misunderstand,” Hanzo said gently, reaching out to place a hand on Reinhardt’s bicep. “I…your condition is not an issue. If anything, it is a boon.”
“It’s a–” Reinhardt gaped. Slowly, he lowered the mass of his soaked shirt from his chest. His damp chest hair gleamed as he turned to face his friend.
“Yes,” Hanzo confirmed, nodding. “I want to help, Reinhardt. How can I help you? Does it hurt?”
Reinhardt stared at Hanzo, his heart pounding in his throat. Sweat broke out on his brow as he tried to come up with an answer. And still, his nipples leaked, pointed and swollen.
“I…a bit. It only hurts a little,” Reinhardt admitted softly. “When squeezed…or when I jump, as in battle. The pressure–”
“It must be uncomfortable,” Hanzo said, nodding. “Let me alleviate it?”
“Ho–” Reinhardt was about to ask just how Hanzo was going to do that, but the ninja took action before he could complete his question. Hanzo– barely at a height to reach Reinhardt’s chest– leaned forward, still holding on to Reinhardt’s arm, and closed his mouth around one nipple. He sighed softly, lifting his other hand to massage the crusader’s generous pec.
“O-oh…!” Reinhardt stuttered again, leaning into the contact. Hanzo’s mouth was warm, and he suckled lightly, massaging the skin with his tongue and lips…it would have felt good under normalconditions, but as Reinhardt allowed himself to relax, he found a new dimension to the pleasure. Hanzo suckled…and milk flowed.
Reinhardt moaned as he felt the pain in his chest recede. In fact, as the pain went away, pleasure replaced it. Suddenly Reinhardt found his breath coming in quick little huffs, his heart beating fast. He used one massive hand to cup the back of Hanzo’s head, not caring how needy it made him seem. He just needed– he needed exactly what Hanzo was giving him.
Hanzo appeared to enjoy it, too. He moaned appreciatively at the flavor of Reinhardt’s milk.
“It’s so rich,” Hanzo remarked with surprise. He stroked Reinhardt’s chest reverently. “Creamy and sweet,” Hanzo said, licking his lips.”I spent a year hiding on a dairy farm,” Hanzo said, still petting Reinhardt’s chest. “Mucking barns, cleaning machinery… but my favorite task was milking the proud creatures.”
Reinhardt moaned as the archer ducked back down, returning to his task. He could feel the milk flowing in small spurts over Hanzo’s tongue as easily as a faucet. Each little squeeze of Hanzo’s hand urged more out. When one teat dried up, he moved to the next. He paused only for a second, searching Reinhardt’s face for approval.
“Ach…” Reinhardt said with a blush. He squirmed under Hanzo’s gaze, acutely aware of his arousal paired with the relief. “Go on, then…”
Hanzo smiled somewhat shyly — yet another cute trait that made Reinhardt blush — and latched onto the other nipple.
It was delightful…Reinhardt might have been reluctant, once, to reveal this kind of weakness to another. And so publicly! Yet the old crusader found that the scene was very intimate indeed, despite the public setting. If anyone had walked in on them, he might have been mortified…but that was a problem for another time. Now, they were alone, and close as could be.
Reinhardt felt an embarrassing twitch between his legs when Hanzo switched sides. His cock was hard, throbbing against his hip. Would Hanzo notice? Would he care? Would he sink to his knees and relieve the pressure there, too?
All Reinhardt could to was ride out the waves of sensation from Hanzo milking him dry. He was left relaxed, floating on a cloud of sensual energy as Hanzo used his skillful lips and his skillful hands to take such good care of him….
The old crusader was startled out of his reverie when he felt a hand on his hip. Hanzo had allowed his free hand to wander downward, and now it rested at Reinhardt’s side. Hanzo’s fingers gripped the waistband of Reinhardt’s pants — almost as if he was trying to ground himself. Unfortunately the movement pulled Reinhardt forward.
It was impossible for Hanzo to not notice the bulge in Reinhardt’s pants. It pressed against his belly as Reinhardt jerked in surprise — then pleasure, as Hanzo pressed even close, like he knew what Reinhardt was getting out of this.
“Does it feel better?” Hanzo asked breathlessly, milk soaking his beard. Reinhardt jumped when a firm hand suddenly cupped his erection over his pants, stroking slowly.
“Oh…ah —” Reinhardt stuttered and tried to shuffle away, but Hanzo followed, this time starting to press kisses to Reinhardt’s tender skin. His chest may have been empty, but his nipples were still puffy and sensitive. Hanzo licked one, flicking it with his tongue as he traced the shape of Reinhardt’s dick through the fabric of his trousers.
“I can see that it does,” Hanzo said warmly. Still, the archer’s kisses were gentle and slow. Worshipful. As if it was a privilege to shower the old soldier with such attention. “Please, let me take care of you.”
It was all Reinhardt could do to nod shakily, hiding his face behind one hand. He could barely bring himself to look down at Hanzo. How embarrassing, to be so needy! But Hanzo was kind. He returned to his gentle kisses, stroking Reinhardt more quickly now that he had permission. Reinhardt let out a quiet moan, his breath coming more quickly. Hanzo’s hands were skilled; they made quick work of Reinhardt’s fly, carefully drawing out the full, heavy weight of the crusader’s cock.
Hanzo pulled away for only a moment to look at his prize. The thing was heavy, flushed red and nestled in a thatch of curly white hair. It throbbed in Hanzo’s grip as if excited to be looked upon. Reinhardt moaned again, trying to stifle his noises in such a public place.
“If … if I were younger…” Reinhardt started. “And I was not suffering from such strangeness–”
Hanzo smiled, absently licking a stray drop of milk from his lips. “You say that as if you are not exactly what I want right now, right here.”
“How could I be?” Reinhardt said shakily. He groaned quietly when Hanzo squeezed his dick, stroking the head like it was a favorite pet.
“Because you are my friend, and I have…” Hanzo cleared his throat, and for the first time Reinhardt noticed the faint flush on the man’s fine cheekbones. “I have a great affection for you.”
“I see…” Reinhardt breathed.
A sequel for this is coming. :) I was commissioned for a continuation, so that should come out in the next few weeks!
Chapter 9: McCree/Reaper: Mirror Sex
Jesse stared at his reflection in the mirror before him. The room was dim. Fuzzing his reflection further was a cloud of smoke. The fog was thin in some places, twinkling like black ice in others. As Jesse watched, it curled and condensed around his shoulders, a hand-like shape solidifying to cup his throat.
“Hey…” came the raspy voice of Jesse’s old mentor.
“Hey yourself,” Jesse said, smirking. If he closed his eyes, he could almost convince himself he could actually feel a cool hand wrapped around his trachea. He took a deep breath; the smoke smelled like old rotting wood and singed flesh; there was something unnaturally sulfuric about it, too. It was not a pleasant smell, but it made the back of Jesse’s head tingle all the same. Pavlovian response, Jesse supposed.
They never talked when they did this. Reaper was hardly capable of solidifying these days, but he still took his pleasures where he could. Perhaps it was the fact that his nanites were aging; maybe he was just tired, ready to shuffle off the mortal coil. Either way, his pleasures were surely few and far between– but Jesse knew, with the confidence of one who had been shown a secret, that he was one of those pleasures.
Jesse sighed and ran his hand down his stomach, rasping through the thick body hair coating his belly. Once upon a time Gabe had done the same for him, scratching Jesse’s lean belly and praising his form. Now Jesse did it himself, squeezing the layer of fat that sat on top of a barrel chest, pinching his nipple. He gasped when he felt the ghost of teeth at his shoulder; his cock jumped when another ghostly hand wrapped around its base.
When Jesse looked down, there was only the outline of a hand. More solid than before. Less like a specter, and more like something resembling blackened flesh. It still misted at the edges, though, so Jesse covered it with his own and started to guide Reaper into jerking him off.
Jesse spread his legs a little wider when Reaper settled into a rhythm. He rolled his balls in his hand, breath hitching when Reaper’s other hand tightened on his throat. The first roll of hips against his back was welcome: at last, something solid to rut against. To press his flesh on, to pretend this wasn’t so fucked-up after all.
“Careful,” Jesse rasped when the hand at his throat tightened just a millimeter too much. “I ain’t keen to join you on the spectral plane just yet.”
In lieu of an apology, Reaper licked at his throat with his long, monstrous tongue, stretching far beyond his jaw. He licked, then bit, cutting with sharp teeth until Jesse bled just a drop here or there. The mist of Reaper’s body was cool on his skin, mixing with Jesse’s sweat.
Reaper always became more solid when he had something to concentrate on. Jesse was more than happy to be his focus. Reaper no long had the gentle edges he’d had as human Gabe, but there was still affection somewhere in his grim facade. The gentle edge sanded Jesse’s self-control away; it rubbed against his ass and squeezed his cock and sucked on his shoulder, leaving Jesse shuddering under the shroud of death.
Reaper’s cock was thick and wet when Jesse gasped against him. It pressed between his cheeks, matting his ass hair with precum. Reaper let go of Jesse’s throat to guide his own cock between Jesse’s thighs, to prod at Jese’s balls with the wet head.
“Do it,” Jesse gasped, rolling his hips into Reaper’s grasp. He spread his stance wider, arching up on the balls of his feet. He leaned against the mirror and stared at Reaper’s shape behind him, now a solid mass of void misting at the edges. Red, red eyes stared at him through the mirror. They were hooded, nearly neon against the endless black around them. A hint of white shark-like teeth were revealed as Reaper smirked and jerked Jesse back against him.
A laugh: rumbling, echoing through the room, sounding as ghostly as the person it came from.
Jesse let Reaper use him– fuck him deep, slapping his hips against Jesse’s own until Jesse jerked up on his toes trying to get leverage. The mirror steamed with Jesse’s body heat. When he managed to open his eyes and stare, he met Reaper’s own possessive gaze, focused on Jesse’s face, Jesse’s throat, Jesse’s flexing stomach muscles as he was torn between getting Reaper deeper inside him or fucking the fist that grasped his cock.
Jesse whined and collapsed against the mirror, pushing back on the body behind him. Reaper felt real now, solid, like a man and not a monster. He radiated living warmth, too– the kind that reminded Jesse of better times.
“Finish in me,” Jesse demanded. Sweat dripped into his eyes; he closed them against the salt and against the sight of Reaper’s monstrous face. “Remind me who I belong to.”
Reaper didn’t reply, but he did move faster, his hips bruising Jesse’s back. He grasped Jesse’s dick and stroked him fast and hard, squeezing on the upstroke and rubbing the pad of a clawed thumb into the glans until Jesse twitched, oversensitive, and spilled rope after rope of thick cum onto the mirror. Jesse did cry out then, babbling about how good it felt. Demanding Reaper claim him — "Like you used to, please…“ — while his hips twitched and his hands curled, his nails scrabbling against the glass.
When Jesse came to, he was shaky and cold. His body and the mirror he inspected himself in were both filthy; he had teeth marks at his throat, and the mirror had deep gouges in it from Reaper’s claws. He was alone.
Same as always.
Chapter 10: McCree/Genji: Oviposition
This takes place in SadakoTetsuwan's Star Trek AU, with Genji being a member of her Dravaran species. They're a kind of dragonoid bipedal species that has three sexes. It's all VERY good.
Jesse gasped as the flared tip of Genji’s tamazao kissed the base of his spine, sliding in the fine sheen of sweat gathered there.
Jesse took a second to breathe and look back at his mate, turning just enough from his position on all-fours that he could catch a glimpse of Genji’s blissed-out face. His cheeks were flushed a lovely lavender, his green skin shining with excitement. That had been the first surprise: that Genji’s species changed color intensity based on mood and temperature.
The second surprise had been that they were so compatible. In personality, in mood, in experience– and in bed. McCree liked the extensive length of Genji’s lizard-like legs. He liked the claw tips that brushed his sides when they cuddled. He liked the long forked tongue flickering at his ear, the teeth at his neck. He definitely liked the apologetic kisses that peppered the bite marks after.
But this aspect of mating, as Genji had cheekily put it, was new to him. Humans didn’t do this. They didn’t even have the parts to do this. At first glance, Jesse had thought Genji didn’t even have a dick…but oh, he’d been so surprised.
Jesse moaned again as Genji slipped his ovipositor between Jesse’s thighs. The natural lubricant Genji’s body made was thick and viscous, even more slippery than the standard-issue stuff Jesse could have gotten from the med bay. The head of Genji’s ovipositor was soft, a little giving. Clearly empty. Yet the shaft was rounded with a line of eggs, and Genji moaned and twitched like he was barely holding them back.
“Please…” Genji whispered, his voice trembling. “Can I? Jesse, can I?”
“Y-yeah,” Jesse gasped, pushing back against the slick intrusion eagerly. “Do it, Gen, I– I want it.”
Genji didn’t pause for another round of confirmation. He merely whined high and loud, trilling as he sunk his shaft inside Jesse. Other Dravarans were made for this kind of mating, with a wet, accommodating cloaca to use. Jesse…didn’t have that. He must have been tight, from the way Genji whined and twitched under him. Genji trilled as his ovipositor extended further, even more slick producing from his cloaca to ease the way.
Jesse grunted and sighed in turns when the eggs finally started to move. The thick lining of Genji’s length was slick and warm inside him, and as each jelly-like egg started to move down the line, they were deposited into Jesse’s belly. God, it felt like Genji had gone even deeper than before, if that was even possible. Each egg sat like a lead ball in his gut, heavy and warm and dense. His organs stretched and rolled to accommodate them, but it was…uncomfortable.
“Genji…” McCree groaned. “How– how long’re they gonna be in there? They feel huge.”
Genji laughed a little hysterically, still sweating and stretching in pleasure as he released his eggs. “You ask this now?” he teased. “Do not worry. They’ll detach eventually. These…” He coughed politely. “These are not fertile. They would be much larger if they were.”
“Larger?” Jesse turned and gaped at Genji. “They barely fit now.”
Genji laughed again, then pet Jesse’s sides affectionately. His nails dragged over sensitive skin, eliciting a shiver as he did so. “Of course,” Genji said gently. He fought through a snarl of pleasure as another set of small eggs made their way through his shaft. “We are– nng!– much larger than you in general, if you have forgotten.”
Jesse started to reply, but he was suddenly overcome with pleasure as Genji actually thrust. It wasn’t much of a movement, but it jostled the eggs already inside the human. Each one seemed to find its own little node of pleasure to press on. The sensation of fullness was overwhelming, like he’d eaten too big a meal and needed to pass some of it. Yet it felt strangely good. Before he’d even noticed it, he was hard as a rock, sweating and rocking into the sensation.
The pleasure only climbed when Genji carefully wrapped one oversized, clawed hand around the human’s dick, rubbing one scaly thumb over the head.
“N-no need to be g-gentle,” Jesse managed to get out through the haze of pleasure. He grunted as Genji shifted behind him again, once more moving the eggs. It seemed the last one was out, but Genji was still gently rocking into the warm clutch of his body, eking out every last bit of sensation he could.
“I know, mate,” Genji said, He leaned his long, lizard-like body over to kiss the back of Jesse’s neck. His forked tongue flickered out to touch along the shell of Jesse’s overheated ear, and he sighed. As if Jesse was a blessing. As if he was a gift. Jesse preened as Genji’s long tail curled around so that the fluffy end of it was wrapped around one ankle, as if it was comforting him. It pet him gently. Much more gently than Genji’s hand on his cock, stroking fast and hard like a punishment.
The human gasped and clenched down abruptly right as Genji pulled out, thick slick spilling everywhere. It coated Jesse’s balls and Genji’s hand, turning his oversized mitt into a firm, slick channel he could fuck into. The eggs jostled whenever Jesse tried to move at all, so he succumbed to the inevitable and let Genji work him over until he was a sobbing, wrecked mess. His cum mixed with Genji’s slick to make a kind of pastel gooey mess– one Genji seemed inordinately pleased with. The Dravaran looked at his hand with satisfaction, rubbing the mess on his own belly absently.
Jesse finally collapsed onto the bed and turned gingerly to look at his mate. The dravaran was glowing, sated and finally free of his most recent clutch of eggs. He looked happy, the purple flush on his cheeks endearing in the best of ways. Jesse sighed. He was set for life.
Chapter 11: Genji/Lucio: Somnophilia
Chapter 12: Reaper/Genji: Hypnotism
This chapter contains dubcon. Genji enjoys himself, but it is heavily implied that the hypnosis has been going on for years without Genji's informed consent. I know that this kind of content is unusual for me, so I thought I should warn appropriately.
There was a Word. Even now, Genji didn’t know what it was. It was something innocuous, something subtle. Something he would have heard every day, from many people, yet not reacted to unless given in that cadence: that lulling, deep voice, commanding him from the shadows.
“Come here,” Reaper rasped. He matched the shadows for darkness, appearing to Genji like two red coals in the dark.
“Yes, Sir,” Genji said dazedly. He stared blankly at the wall ahead of him. “What do you want me to do, Sir?”
“Get on your knees and turn around, Genji,” Reaper growled. He strode out of the shadows, smoking at the edges of his form, as if the faint flow of the air conditioning was dissipating him like so much ash on the breeze.
“Yes, Sir,” Genji said agreeably. He knelt on the hard floor, then dropped onto his hands.
“So much more supple these days…” Reaper commented, running a possessive hand down Genji’s back. His clawed glove stopped at the curve of Genji’s ass. “You’ve healed well.”
“Yes, Sir.” A faint thought buzzed in Genji’s addled mind: he wasn’t wearing his armor. His carapace was gone, leaving his synthetic skin exposed. His mask was probably still back in his room, resting by his bedside.
Reaper repeated the Word, and Genji snapped back into being a Good Boy. Good Boys didn’t think about the world outside their master’s words. Good Boys didn’t think about being exposed– didn’t have to, because it wasn’t their decision whether or not they experienced shame.
The Word made Genji want to be a Good Boy.
“I’m going to fuck you,” Reaper rasped, air wheezing through his troubled body. Genji stared ahead as Reaper moved around him, positioning Genji’s body for use. How wonderful to be used, Genji thought with a sigh. How wonderful to have purpose. He liked having a purpose. Reaper would give him a purpose.
“Thank you, Sir,” Genji murmured. He flexed his hands, curled his toes. Something like anticipation welled up in his gut, warming him from the inside out.
“I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to enjoy it,” Reaper continued. “After, you’re going to walk back to your room without anyone seeing you. You’re going to clean yourself up and go to sleep. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Sir,” Genji replied. He tensed instinctively again as Reaper’s hand squeezed his hip, digging into the weirdly firm synthetic muscle. The claws rasped against his carbon-fiber skin and lovingly caressed the joints and exposed wires. As if Reaper was taking him in; as if he was taking stock of the gift Genji had brought him.
Reaper’s cock was familiar in a strange way. Warm, as warm as it had ever been, and hot and slick and velvety smooth between Genji’s thighs. It slipped under Genji’s taint and prodded his balls, and oh-– there was that warmth again, anticipation sparking up his spine into his throat. It made his heart rush. It made him tense, his body like a live wire.
“Shhh,” Reaper cooed, his voice as soft as a nighttime breeze. “Relax.” And he whispered the Word again, and Genji did relax, going loose and comfortable under Reaper’s hands.
Reaper slicked Genji’s thighs with something viscous, pushing them together and rearranging Genji until he made a lewd portrait: plush ass angled up, back arched, head hanging between his shoulders. His testicles swung like overripe fruit, like a treat, like they needed someone to play with them. Genji looked like an offering.
Reaper took his time. He used Genji gently, as if there was still something in him that was capable of tenderness. His claws dug into Genji’s hips; they tugged on the uneven growth of Genji’s hair, hooked into masses of wires, tugged. Genji was a plaything–- a beloved plaything, but a toy nonetheless.
Desire spread like fire through Genji’s veins, running through his limbs until his lungs ached and his heart boomed in his rib cage. His cock and balls swung between his legs, nudged with each of Reaper’s thrusts. And Reaper-– the villain grunted and growled as he used the wet, slick channel of Genji’s thighs to work out his frustration. To get relief. He smoked and fell apart in turn, regenerating and reforming his human-like shape as fast as it was lost.
Genji’s mind drifted just under the surface of the Word. It was like floating in a warm pool on a cool spring day; cozy, easy, too easy to forget that the world outside the water was cold. Things would be so easy if Genji could only stay on his knees as Reaper’s fucktoy for the rest of eternity.
Reaper would leave him spattered in cum-– as he always did. A mess between the thighs, with spend dripping down into the crevices he needed a special brush to clean. A memory of a dream too good to be true, too strange to be real. And always, buzzing, the Word.
Chapter 13: Ana/Reinhardt: Pegging
This was DIRECTLY related to Vimeddi's comics! http://vimeddiee.tumblr.com/post/159940371284/vimeddiart-whoops
Reinhardt Wilhelm was a stunning specimen of a man. Polite if a little cocky, with broad shoulders and a handsome mouth that just begged for someone to sit on it. Thick hair covered his chest and arms; his few scars had marked him just enough that it drew attention to the incredibly handsome rest of his physique.
And, oh, Ana’s favorite part: his hair. When Reinhardt had joined up with Overwatch, his hair had been a shaggy mess, swept back and matted with a week’s worth of sweat and machine oil. But it had grown since then and was often gathered into a ponytail at the nape of the former crusader’s neck, clean and soft after the man had been chastised.
His hair was longer than Ana’s own. It was thick, lustrous even without product. It swayed when Reinhardt walked, the tip of his ponytail whipping back and forth as the man turned his head to greet other people in the hallway.
It taunted Ana. Made her want to pull on it, to cause the man a little pain. To punish him, perhaps, for distracting her so much.
So she did.
It was meant to be a joke. A little jab that perhaps the crusader should get a haircut. But the long, high moan Reinhardt let out when Ana tugged on the end of his hair was something else entirely. It made Ana’s heart jump. Her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. Her grip tightened, and Reinhardt’s chest jumped with a gasp as she tugged him closer.
“Meet me in your room at 1800,” she murmured. She winked, and teased Reinhardt’s chin with the silky ends of his own hair. “I think you’ll like what I bring.”
And hell, he surely did.
The huge man moaned under Ana’s hands. His back arched as he gasped. The faintest line of drool dripped down his chin as he bit his lip and let his head be dragged backwards by the roots of his hair.
God, but he looked good on his knees. Even on all fours and splayed under her, he was too big to topple. He was sturdy. Solid. Ana liked that in a man. She liked watching his bull-like shape tremble under her petite hands. He could have dwarfed her waist with a single palm, but instead his fists were clenched under him as he whined and gasped under her touch.
Ana caressed her strap-on lovingly, slicking it up with more lube. The former crusader’s hole gleamed with what seemed like an endless trail of the stuff. She must have drizzled half the bottle over him while she worked him open, but she couldn’t help herself…he looked good, wet and ready for her cock. She sighed in satisfaction, biting her lip as the toy finally breached his hole. The curved end of it met resistance as she pressed forward. The base of the toy rubbed her in just the right ways, and she ground into the sensation, chasing that tingle of excitement down her spine.
She grunted as she sheathed the toy inside Reinhardt. The man himself trembled slightly, his spine curved into a graceful arc as he adjusted. Ana stared at him, enraptured by the expression on the former crusader’s face. His eyebrows were drawn up in the slightest wrinkle of concern. His voice was just a soft whine, his mouth open like he couldn’t quit draw in the breath he needed. He looked like he was balancing on a knife’s edge, just trying to hold still.
Well, they couldn’t have that, could they?
Ana tugged on the man’s hair once more, yanking him back so that his muscular chest arched out prettily. At the same time, she thrust once, shallowly, angling the toy in just such a way that it must have been torturous. Reinhardt gasped — from the hair pulling or the toy, she couldn’t be sure — and tentatively pressed back against her.
Ana smiled — a wide, smug grin. She kissed Reinhardt’s spine, daintily pressing her mouth to the red flush of his shoulders and the sweaty dip of his lower back. She peppered the kisses there as she slowly thrust the toy in and out, pressing the curved tip of the toy square into Reinhardt’s prostate. It must have been good: he continued to tremble, to gasp and moan quietly while Ana teased him. Her thighs met Reinhardt’s buttocks again and again, until she accidentally slipped out of him — and as she watched with bated breath, his great ripe balls drew up like a pretty pink display, all ready for her to tease.
“Please, Ana…” Reinhardt muttered quietly — almost as if he was afraid to speak too loudly. Ana’s mouth quirked up at one corner. How sweet.
Ana pet Reinhardt gently as she took care of him. She wouldn’t abuse him too much tonight; after all, she wanted a repeat performance at a later date. It didn’t matter if she got off tonight. If she played her cards right, she’d be riding that pretty mouth of his every spare second they had together in the following weeks.
Chapter 14: (Sunlit Scales) Hana/Lucio/Sombra: Double Penetration
This chapter can also be found in the Sunlit Scales collection.
“It doesn’t look like Jesse said,” Hana said, tilting her head. She pet her human’s legs– she sure did love legs. They always looked so funny, and humans barely knew how to use them. She looked at Lucio with a quirked eyebrow. “Does it?”
“Nah,” Lucio said. He pet Sombra’s sides, feeling her ribs like maybe she was hiding gills there. “Jesse said they sort of have a– like a tentacle? They have something there. But it looks like she just has a cloaca.”
“Wait!” Hana picked her head up from between the human’s legs. Sombra’s knees shook as she trembled, held to the ground by the two merfolk’s bodies. “I think I– maybe?– it’s like a little tentacle. Like it’s too shy to come out. C'mere, it’s cute.”
Lucio joined Hana down at the human’s groin. He purred and chittered encouragingly when Sombra merely pet his scales, almost like she was reassuring him. He patted her back. She was being such a good sport for him and Hana. They did almost everything together, but this was new. They’d had plans for how this would go, based on Jesse’s experiences with a human. Heck, Jesse and his human even had babies! Jesse must have known a lot about them.
Except this one was different. Apparently humans had dichotomous junk. No easy gender-neutral organs to share. Theyhad to be complicated.
No matter. Hana was a quick learner and Lucio was creative. Together they made a hell of a team.
“Ooh, it is cute,” Lucio cooed. He looked back at Sombra’s red face with new appreciation. “It’s so little. I wanna kiss it. Can I kiss it?”
Hana giggled. “I don’t think she’d say no to you.”
Lucio leaned down and licked a long, wet stripe between the folds of Sombra’s labia. The human’s body was so different from his and Hana’s, but it was a delight to behold. Her insides were hot and soft, slick and slightly sour. Lucio wiggled his tongue around the little nubbin at the apex of her lips, humming approvingly when it made the human’s thighs clamp around his head so she could grind her face up against him.
Lucio pulled away for a moment, wiping his chin with one hand. He grinned at Hana. “You should get in on this. She’s really wet. You should take care of that. Here, you go first.”
Hana laughed. “How generous. Gosh, she’s really pretty…” Hana pet the human’s thighs again, then positioned herself between them. She pressed kisses into Sombra’s bare chest. Hana love the pillowy-soft texture of the human’s breasts, and of her mostly-hairless belly. There was a fine fuzz of body hair there and on her groin, but that was nothing– and anyway, when she got aroused the stuff was slicked out of the way.
It got even messier when Hana let her tentacle out. The mermaid trembled a little as she tried to relax, sighing when Lucio pet the lips of her cloaca to ease her tentacle out.
“Thanks, Luz,” Hana sighed. She moaned quietly as her tentacle slipped out with a rush of slick. Hana breathed shallowly as she watched it writhe a little before latching on to the warmth in front of it. Hana shook and pressed forward, grinding against the human until the hot pink length of her tentacle slipped inside the human’s opening. The tip of her tentacle wiggled in… The musculature was different– felt way different than Lucio’s ever had– and it was…new. The human was so hot, almost searingly so against Hana’s sensitive skin. The mermaid keened when Sombra clamped down on her, squeezing the thickest part of her tentacle with her strong inner muscles.
“Nng–” Hana panted and thrust her tentacle again, biting her lip to stop herself from finishing too soon. “Here, Luz, I think you can fit too. C'mon, she looks like she likes it.”
Sombra must have understood at least some of what they were saying to each other, because she nodded emphatically and spread her legs more widely, running one hand down Lucio’s back. The other hand came up to cover her mouth, like she could shove the moans back in. Hana smirked and reached up for the human’s hand, gently pulling it away. She nuzzled the knuckles of the woman’s palm as she did so, then firmly planted it on Hana’s own breast. She may not have had the same sensors the human did, but it still felt good.
Hana and Lucio positioned themselves awkwardly. It took some rearranging of the three. Once Sombra figured out what they were trying to accomplish, she laughed a little and pulled away from Hana’s body. She patted the ground next to her, gesturing for Lucio to lay himself out on the beach. It took some maneuvering– the two young merfolk still weren’t used to land-crawling– but eventually Lucio was laid out on his side, with Sombra playing small spoon, Hana facing her.
There was a brief moment where all three seemed nervous, but then Sombra started to pet the slightly engorged lips of Lucio’s cloaca. The bright green scales of Lucio’s belly were a little darker where he opened up. Sombra must have been watching the merman tease Hana– or maybe she was a quick learner– but soon she was massaging the slick entrance to Lucio’s body, urging his tentacle out. The lime-green length slipped out easily enough, covered in thick slick and wiggling eagerly. It slapped between Sombra’s thighs like it was excited. Hana had to stifle a giggle, but she did shove Lucio playfully.
Hana was startled out of her laughter by the high moan the human let out when Lucio entered her. He rolled a little, trying to get a better angle, but luckily Sombra did most of the work. She bore down on the length, still petting it like she wanted to coax even more inside her. Lucio’s hands came up to hold her waist– and, inspired, Hana gripped the human’s thighs, scooting herself closer on the sand.
She pressed kisses to Sombra’s chest and belly as she let her tentacle slip out again. It wiggled, briefly wrapping around the familiar warmth of Lucio’s length. It was tempting to try and penetrate him– to just slip into the friendly hole waiting for her– but the sight of Sombra’s warm, soft interior greeting her with a dark pink and that fuzz of brown hair was too enticing. Hana pressed the tapered tip of her tentacle up to Sombra’s opening, starting by simply rubbing against the cute little nub that drove the human so wild. When Sombra moaned and gasped, Hana pressed her tentacle in alongside Lucio’s.
They made a pretty picture together: lime green and coral pink, twined together and gently thrusting in and out of the human’s slick opening. Hana dazedly though that– between the three of them– there was enough lubrication to fit anything in there. Didn’t mean she wanted to, though. She liked exactly what they were doing now.
She and Lucio worked together, timing their thrusts until the sounds of their tentacles writhing inside the human were frenzied and wet– almost obscene, really, turning Hana pink enough to match her scales with the way they moved. Sombra jerked under their touch, moving between the two merfolk like she couldn’t figure out who she needed more. She ended up gripping Hana tight, holding on like if she didn’t she’d slip away. The human panted and moaned– a high, whining sound not unlike Hana’s own calls. She sounded desperate, almost wounded– but the pleasured expression on her face as Hana and Lucio pressed against all the best spots inside her was unmistakable.
Hana was getting close when the human’s body did something weird– she jerked uncontrollably, like she was suddenly ill. There wasn’t enough time to panic, though– immediately her insides clamped down on the two merfolk’s tentacles, spasming in waves like it was trying to pull them in even deeper. That alone was too much, but the frenzied words the human started babbling were what really did Hana in.
Hana pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to the human’s soft skin as she let her fluids release inside the human, her tentacle whipping around wildly as it slipped out of her. Hana shuddered a little as Lucio removed himself, too, and together they sandwiched their human in as tight an embrace as possible.
All three of them lay together in the sun on the beach, basking and too tired to move– except for one thing. Hana raised her hand in the air expectantly. Lucio slapped it with his own.
Chapter 15: Genji/Mercy: Angry Sex
“You are so careless, Shimada! The one thing I couldn’t fix in this whole mess was your damn brain, and of course you use that to mess up every stupid thing I built for you.”
Genji grunted harshly, not responding in words partly because his voice synthesizer was broken, but partly because he didn’t need to. His red-eyed glare was more than enough. Plus he knew it would only enrage the doctor further.
Angela continued her tirade, shoving Genji’s body into a bed and hauling his broken legs onto the mattress with surprisingly strong arms. She fussed and grumbled as she disconnected the circuits to Genji’s legs, leaving him with barely more than the top half of his body to ruminate on.
“I spend-– Overwatch spends–- millions of dollars on rebuilding your criminal body, training you, spending time and resources on your physical therapy and making sure your synthetic nerves are hooked up and working correctly. I personally dug in all your tissue and hooked up nerves and veins and tubing and new skin and new parts and I did it all with care and you just–-” She exhaled through gritted teeth and bent over Genji. For a brief, silent moment, Genji only stared at her with bitter, empty eyes. Then he blinked, as if the emotions in her voice were only just registering. He started to open his mouth to speak, then paused, literally lost for words.
Angela suddenly felt bad for screaming at someone that couldn’t yell back. She handed her comm to Genji, awkwardly muttering “Here. Type if you need to say something.”
Genji smiled at her weakly. After a quick second of awkward typing with mangled hands, he turned the screen to face her.
AT LEAST LUBE ME UP IF YOURE GOING TO RIDE MY ASS THIS HARD
Angela threw her hands up in the air, screaming through her teeth. If she let her hands down now, it would only be to slap the cyborg until his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Scheisse, what is wrong with you?” Angela demanded. “Really? What on God’s green earth made you this way–- or, no, I know what broke you, before you play the pity card. I mean what turned you into such an asshole, you obstinate pile of bloody wires? Is it the lack of friends? Constant medical testing? Or are you trying to measure your dick in some imaginary contest with God?”
Genji typed furiously again.
YOU HAVENT BUILT ME A DICK YET
Angela huffed. “Your remaining tissue works fine. The inability to perform,” she said pointedly, “is psychosomatic at this point. You can at least piss, can’t you?”
Genji grimaced, his mouth twisting into a frown. He glared at Angela again, then suddenly smirked. The doctor flushed as Genji’s red eyes wandered down her body, like he suddenly had an idea. For a brief moment Angela saw– under the scarred mess of the man in front of her– the shadow of a young playboy.
Genji typed again, then flippantly turned the comm around for her to read.
U NEED TO GET LAID LOL
“You-– I-–” Angela flushed with anger and embarrassment. “You can’t just-–”
Genji typed again while she was fumbling for words.
IM GAME IF U ARE
Angela froze. For one short, terrifying moment she stared directly into Genji’s red eyes. She watched as the synthetic pupils dilated and shrunk as the cyborg took her in. She noted that his eyelashes were still intact in most places, and that though his lips were interrupted in places with hard scar tissue, they were still full– and quirked up in a smirk.
She turned around, clenching her fists in front of her face as she took a deep, calming breath.
She took off her coat. Ripped off her ID badge, kicked off her comfortable work flats. She looked at Genji’s mangled hands, and the remains of his legs. She noted with idle professionalism that most of it would have to be replaced in one way or another. But he still had his mouth.
Which Genji seemed to know she was thinking about. Gone was the lukewarm smile from earlier. In its place was something wicked and knowing. Genji licked his lips. His grin, now spreading across his face as Angela begrudgingly gave in, was predatory. He tilted his head knowingly, and jerked it backwards like he was saying “Well? Get up here.”
Angela quickly locked the door to Genji’s room, muttering to Athena that no one was to disturb them. Then she turned.
Genji had propped himself up on his elbows and was cracking his jaw. He winked when Angela took a shaky, steadying breath and walked towards him again.
Angela leaned over him. Stared him straight in his red, red eyes. She wrapped one hand around his jaw, holding him tightly so he couldn’t look away. His smile dropped as he stared back. She tightened her grip, tilting the cyborg’s chin up so that he could barely move– even when one of his mangled hands came up to grip her wrist.
“You tap my leg when you need out,” Angela said flatly. “Otherwise, I’m going to fucking smother you. It’s the least you can do–- and maybe if you ever get your dick working again I can return the favor.”
With that, she hiked her skirt up and deftly climbed up on the bed, boxing Genji in with her strong thighs. She may not have been as heavily-built as some of the more seasoned fighters, but it did take a decent amount of muscle to carry her battlesuit into a fight.
Angela stared down at her charge with faint disdain. She frowned as Genji pet her thighs, up and down, like he was trying to soothe some angry beast. He looked suddenly thoughtful, and as he licked his scarred lips again, Angela moved forward– hovered over him, staring down at the deep red glare of Genji’s eye implants. They flashed– literally–- as Genji ducked in, mouthing at the soft white skin of her thigh like he was actually eager to get to work. As if he hadn’t just been teasing her, but had maybe been planning some of this.
Like maybe he needed it, too.
Angela tried not to think about it. Instead she grabbed Genji’s hair by the roots and shoved his face between her legs, grinding her pubis against his chin. She gasped and held on as Genji opened his pretty lips and mouthed at her. One hand snuck up to part her puffy lips, and then– and then–
So he did have experience.
Angela gasped quietly as Genji worked her open with lips and tongue, his fingers only peripherally involved. Perhaps they were broken just enough that he couldn’t use them. Maybe he didn’t want to use them. Either way, the man was enthusiastic enough with his tongue. He sucked on her rapidly-swelling clit with gusto, just a hint of teeth making her jump away. Yet Genji’s hands-– attached to arms that were literally built to be stronger than a normal human’s-– tugged her back, pressing her down by the hips until he was lapping at her open-mouthed, head bobbing back and forth as he found new folds and crevices to suck on with every nod.
Angela groaned as she rode his face. She closed her eyes–- tried not to think about the wobbly hospital bed they were on, tried not to think about the sensors hooked up to Genji’s body. She tried not to think about the ethical implications of what she was doing. Instead she focused on the wet heat of Genji’s tongue mixed with the cool metal skin of his jaw.
She pressed him down into the thin mattress and pushed his face into her pussy, shoving him again and again as she worked out her frustrations. She jumped again when Genji’s remaining organic hand snuck up behind her, slipping a couple fingers into her cunt when she was distracted. They held her open as Genji licked at her hole, shoving his tongue in and tracing shapes that she had definitely walked him through in speech therapy.
She whined when Genji thrust two fingers in, shaking and shoving and practically vibrating with how fast her fingered her. It felt– it felt too good, too much for a quick fuck in a hospital bed. His fingers were thick and rough with scar tissue, curving deliciously like this was just another Saturday-night tryst in the back of a club. He pressed against her walls until Angela had to collapse on her elbows, bowed over Genji’s head while he took her apart from the inside.
Angela shook and clenched down when Genji slipped the third finger in, holding her wide open while he closed his lips around her swollen clit and sucked like her pussy was his last meal. She shuddered and jumped, her cunt clenching down in waves. She vaguely registered the fact that she was coating his face in enough slick that she’d have to find him a cloth: clear juices, thin and odorless and something she hadn’t done in years.
She sat up, chest heaving. She must have been a sight–- hair a mess, shirt rumpled, skirt hiked up around her ribs, panties barely even shoved out of the way–- but Genji only leaned back, breath just as labored as hers.
He patted her legs-– again, as if soothing some angry animal– and pressed a kiss to her thigh. Then bit, deep and red and purple and sharp. Angela hissed and tugged him by the roots again.
“Ach, no,” she said sternly. “That’s-– that’s enough.”
Then she slipped away, off the bed and back into her sensible shoes, out the door, down the hall, desperately trying not to think about the smug, satisfied look on Genji’s face as she’d redressed herself.
Chapter 16: Hana/Sombra: Shower Sex
“You’re too sensitive,” Hana laughed. She smiled when Olivia shied away from her again, shy and wobbly as a foal. “And you’re shivering, poor baby. Look at you. You need me turn the temp up?” She aimed the shower head back up so she could watch the warm water drip down the brown valley of Olivia’s breasts. “Or maybe down?”
“No,” Olivia hissed. “No, d-don’t-–”
“Too late,” Hana sing-songed. She flipped the water to a colder setting, aiming it back between Olivia’s thighs. The water turned cold in an instant, making the hacker jump-– straight back into Hana’s arms. Hana was taller than Olivia by just a smidge. With the woman cowered in her arms, she felt like a giant.
Hana laughed. It was too easy.
“No?” she crooned, slowly lowering the shower head again, until it washed in a steady stream between Olivia’s legs. “Alright, I’ve got it. Warm-– maybe with a little more pressure?”
She didn’t wait for an answer– just switched the settings as fast as she could with one hand keeping a steady grip on Olivia’s chin. The water turned warm again, but the stream changed: a concentrated flow, a set of three powerful jets.
“How’s it feel, Sombra,” Hana murmured into the woman’s ear. “Being played like a fiddle?” She aimed the water down again, slowly undulating the stream so that it teased at Olivia’s labia. “You’re so easy for me. So pretty…” she breathed out, pressing kisses to Olivia’s neck. She sucked in mark after mark, opened mouthed and wet. She licked up the water off her girlfriend’s neck like she was parched, chasing drop after drop.
Olivia jerked under her hands when the stream finally touched her. It shot between her lips, forcing the sensitive skin out of the way to pound relentlessly on her clit. Hana longed to slip a couple fingers in there with it, to use her now-pruny fingers to rub her senseless. Maybe slip a couple inside and open her up slowly…But the hot water would run out soon. They only had a little bit of time…
Hana sunk down on her knees, turned Olivia around on her shaky legs. She pressed Olivia back against the cold tiles and kissed the bumps of her skinny hips, pressing kisses to the divot of her ribs, her bellybutton, all the way down until she met the thin covering of her pubic hair on her groin. It gleamed wetly in the dim light of the shower, soaked with water and slick and sweat, combed down and curly in the stream. Hana smirked.
She dropped the shower head, wincing as it clanked against the tile. Damn it, she needed her hands. She parted Olivia’s lips just the way she’d imagined, rubbing along her slit as Olivia collapsed against the wall, seemingly no longer worried–- or even aware-– of the temperature difference. In fact, she hardly looked aware of anything at all. Olivia’s eyes were closed, her mouth open. Her chest heaved with harsh breaths as Hana slipped two fingers inside her and felt around, deftly massaging her walls.
Hana loved the part. Olivia was always so wet for her in their infrequent trysts. She was tight and soft, her pussy as invitingly warm as ever. Hana wrapped one hand around to grab Olivia’s ass as she slipped her tongue into the apex of her labia, digging her tongue into the hood of the woman’s swollen clit.
“You’re always so cute…” Hana murmured, leaning in to really get into the wet details of Olivia’s body. She licked and sucked as best as she could given the angle, thrusting her fingers and curling them until Olivia cried out and almost kicked, her knees suddenly closing tight around Hana’s hand. Locking her in, pushing her out, her pussy pulsing hot and soft around Hana’s fingers. Olivia might have been trying to get away from the overstimulation, but her cunt seemed to want to pull her in–- to take her deeper, harder, never let her go.
Hana smirked. So much for good, clean fun. She played to win.
Chapter 17: Doomfist/Lucio: Praise Kink
In light of all the problems tumblr is having, I've made a new twitter (@cecile_yarrow) at which you can find updates on work, previews of stories, and my regular shitposting.
Lucio was drunk on wine more expensive than his most advanced equipment and he was loving it. Whatever he’d expected from Doomfist — Akande — the man was that and more. He was charming, he was quietly dangerous, he was firm but not demanding and he was ludicrously handsome. He had kind words for Lucio about his work in Brazil, and apparently had high hopes for his work in the rest of the world. He wanted Lucio to work for him– to work with him.
Lucio hadn’t planned to be so easily manipulated. But then– well– the wine.
What was he supposed to do, really? Not drink a perfectly good glass of 2056 Pinot Noir from a tiny town in Chile? Nah, man. Lucio wouldn’t put a perfectly good red to waste like that. Someone had to drink it.
Never mind that it had made him a little more …open to suggestion, one might say. Never mind that Akande had followed him onto the second bottle. Never mind that they’d taken that bottle back to Akande’s private quarters, or that they’d set the final glass down on the side table in favor of kissing furiously, messy and hot and frenzied.
The huge man was surprisingly restrained in bed. Where during dinner he had been forthright and persuasive, the minute their clothes came off he was uncharacteristically quiet. Lucio laughed internally and did his best — as much as the wine coursing through his veins would let him — to bring out that wonderful deep voice again.
“Come on,” Lucio cajoled. “Where’d all the confidence from earlier go? Big man like you, quiet like a mouse? Doesn’t seem right.”
Akande wasn’t a meek kind of quiet, but his gasps were still muffled, his breathing heavily controlled like he couldn’t afford to let out the weak little whine he so clearly wanted to.
Lucio pushed harder. Climbed up onto Akande’s lap and ground down against him, cupping the back of Akande’s shaven head and digging his nails into the stubble at his nape.
Lucio stared at him warmly, mesmerized by the deep maroon blush on Akande’s cheeks.
“Let it out,” Lucio encouraged. He leaned in and licked a deep strip up the crime boss’s neck, ending by scraping his teeth over his pulse point. “Come on, big man. Wanna be my good boy? Make a little noise.”
That did make Akande groan weakly, his breath coming in short bursts.
“You like that, don’t you? Be good for me. You were so friendly before — what happened?” He kissed Akande’s neck, grazing his teeth in a threat and then following through, biting and pulling, raising welts on Akande’s brown skin. The man gasped and seemed to hover, caught between Lucio’s teeth, for a long moment.
And then: a moan, long and deep, shocking in its intensity. Lucio laughed and let go, kissing the bites in apology.
“Better,” he acquiesced. “Tell me a lie, Akande. Something good.”
The big man did, babbling between moans about how he’d take Lucio to visit the vineyard the wine they’d drunk had come from. How they’d stay at his villa in Italy, or fly over to Spain to see the sea and ruins and art.
Lucio ground down on Akande’s lap, rubbing tortuously over the bulge in his pants.
“More,” Lucio demanded. “Be better.”
He’d take Lucio home to Brazil– pump money and staff into fighting back Vishkar with Lucio leading the front. He’d be at Lucio’s beck and call, answering questions, providing help. He’d — he’d —
“You’d be a good boy, of course,” Lucio murmured.
It was all lies, of course. Lucio knew it was all lies. They were pretty lies, and Akande had pretty hands, and a pretty mouth… But it would take a lot more than one night to win Lucio over completely.
Chapter 18: Concept!Mercy/Genji: Public
The ferris wheel was stuck. The ferris wheel was stuck, and Genji had a boner.
Not from anything particularly arousing. The date had been going fine. Angelo was a sweetheart– had even bought Genji cotton candy– and they’d decided to ride the ferris wheel before they left the park.
Then it had broken down.
Now Genji was stuck at the top of the ferris wheel with the only good man he’d ever been on a date with, and he had a boner.
Because Angelo was kissing him. The man was warm in Genji’s lap, big hands cupping Genji’s face so, so tenderly– like he was afraid to hold on too hard. Genji smiled into the kiss, and squeezed Angelo closer, trying to reassure him, but Angelo was still shy. He started to climb off Genji’s lap, maybe to check on the state of the repairs– but Genji tugged him back to the bench seat.
“Let me take care of you,” Genji insisted. He slipped down to the dirty metal floor of the gondola, trying not to let his stomach churn too badly when it made the whole thing rock. Instead he ran his hands up and down Angelo’s legs, smiling cockily and leaning in to nuzzle at Angelo’s crotch.
Genji smirked. He wasn’t the only one with a problem, it seemed.
“I’m okay, really–” Angelo tried to insist. Yet his hands came up to cup Genji’s head, petting his hair.
“Then you don’t mind if I blow you?” Genji asked, raising a brow. He laughed, then: Angelo had turned a stunning maroon, his warm-toned skin instantly hued red all the way to his ears. The medic tucked one dread behind his ear and covered his face with a hand– like Genji didn’t love watching him blush.
He muttered something into his hand.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Genji asked, leaning in to rest his head against Angelo’s thigh. He gazed up at Angelo with a faux innocent expression as one hand slid up, tucking his fingers into the other man’s waistband.
“I said, just– yeah, yes, g-go ahead,” Angelo mumbled, still completely red. He turned one bright eye down to look at Genji through his fingers. “Just hurry up. It looks like they’ll be done soon.”
With thsat, Genji winked once more and opened Angelo’s pants, cupping the other’s groin while he worked them off. Genji inhaled slowly, savoring the heat radiating off Angelo’s body. He was so warm, even two hundred feet in the air.
Speaking of which: the gondola rocked in a sudden breeze, rattling the flimsy glass windows. Both of them jumped– then laughed. Genji smiled and pressed a flurry of kisses to Angelo’s stomach and legs, holding on for dear life while the gondola settled itself again.
“Alright?” Angelo asked warmly, petting Genji’s hair.
“More than,” Genji replied. He sneakily went from hiding his head in Angelo’s lap to pressing kisses to his hips, sucking gently in a way he knew would make the large man squirm.
(Angelo was sensitive– in more than one way. That was part of the reason Genji was so smitten.)
Angelo’s breath turned shallow when Genji started to lap at the shaft of his quickly-hardening dick. Genji loved on it softly: licking here, sucking there, working his way to the head. He closed his mouth around the shiny-wet head and sucked slowly, working until his nose met the dark curls at the base of Angelo’s cock. He paused there a moment. Just savoring. He listened to the wind blowing outside of the gondola and Angelo’s quiet sounds of pleasure.
But Genji couldn’t be kind all the time– he’d lose his reputation. He sucked as hard as he could on the way up, slurping every bit of spit and precum he could as he drew back. He used one hand to hold Angelo’s length still while he worked the tip of his tongue into the frenulum, curling under the head, dipping into his foreskin.
He was enjoying himself immensely when the gondola suddenly lurched. This time it wasn’t the wind: they were moving again, once more on the downward climb of the wheel.
Fuck, he had a nice dick. Genji could have sucked it for hours, but they were in a time crunch. So he bobbed his head and did his best imitation of a vacuum, taking deep gulps around Angelo’s cock like his goal was to swallow the man alive.
Angelo was– well, in unkind terms he was a total bottom. At any other time, Genji would have laughed at the situation. But with the man squirming under his hands, whining and biting his palm to keep from being too loud? With Angelo’s balls twitching under his hands, his thighs clenched around Genji’s head? Well, Genji certainly couldn’t fault him for that.
One final slurp, and Angelo was suddenly babbling half-words amidst his moans– an attempt at a warning. Genji had heard it time and again, and eagerly anticipated the result. He ducked down, taking Angelo into his throat, closing on him as tightly as he could. He was rewarded with a hot spurt against his palate as Angelo shuddered under his hands, head banging against the back window of the gondola.
Chapter 19: Genji/Zenyatta/Mercy: wireplay, body worship
Genji was lovingly cradled between two bodies: two sets of hands, two voices, two lovers to caress him and care for him and take him apart.
It was almost too much. Genji hovered, gasping, as Angela welcomed him into her body below him. She whispered kind words and endearments, fingers petting his hair and the now-pale scar tissue on his face. She kissed his hands and his cheeks and encouraged him to go deeper, to take her harder.
Behind him, Zenyatta was just as gentle. His modesty panel had been removed, an extra appendage added by the same doctor under him. The omnic’s hands grasped Genji’s hips and pet his back, drawing careful lines down the dips and bumps of his spine. He gently fingered the wires of Genji’s external mechanisms as if contemplating their potential.
A brief bit of static had Genji crying out, his hips going still. There was a small pause, then a giggle: Angela murmured something to Zenyatta that Genji couldn’t quite make out, and then she was squirming under him, clenching tight and wet around his cock, pressing up against him.
He started moving again despite the tingle in his ears.
And then again:
A buzz in his legs had Genji collapsing onto Angela underneath him, helpless as she pressed kisses into his neck and bit his lips. He arched his back as Zenyatta opened him up, finding all the spots inside him that had been manufactured to be so sensitive.
He wanted to cry. He wanted to go limp and let them take him apart.
Zenyatta murmured encouragements in his low, easy cadence that urged Genji to brace himself again, to push back and thrust forward– to find a balance. Angela encouraged him, whispering dirty things into his ears about how pretty he looked. How she’d like to take him apart the same way some time, with toys and wicked instruments. She assured him that he’d enjoy it– and Genji was inclined to believe her.
Angela always knew what was best for him. Even now, with the weight of two people pressing down on her, Angela had enough poise to direct the show. She rolled her hips up against Genji’s own, urging him on. She cupped his jaw in her hands and kissed him fiercely, giggling when Zenyatta thrust at a particularly good angle and made Genji’s cock throb inside her.
Genji might as well have been floating, for all he was concerned. Their lovemaking was no frenzied thing; it was slow, luxurious, just this side of dreamlike. Genji could have lain in that haze for hours if not for the steady tension building in his gut. It made his legs tremble and his hands shake.
Then, one final time:
Angela’s thumb brushed against a sensor just at the nape of his neck; she was likely caressing a port of some kind, something made sensitive by its proximity to integrated flesh. Yet it was enough to send Genji over the edge, eyes tearing with overstimulation while his cock pulsed between Angela’s lips, spilling cum all over.
Genji all but collapsed on her as he twitched and gasped, clenching down on the cock inside him. Zenyatta’s body was not as forgiving as Angela’s human flesh, and the hard, resistant metal and silicon battered Genji’s prostate relentlessly, milking him until he had nothing left to give.
He was safe here, in this haze. He had two people to care for him: to carry him to bed, and clean him off, and tuck themselves on either side of him to comfort him while he slept. It was everything he’d once thought he didn’t deserve and more.