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Patience

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Zenyatta, above all else, was patient. He was full of anger, so much that sometimes he feared his drives could overheat and melt in the fury that coursed through his wires like fire. He controlled it, kept it on a careful leash, but could not deny himself forever.

It took nine months for his patience and control to slip. Nine months, seven hours, twenty minutes, and fifty-two seconds before he squirreled away in his room, locking the door, and sank to the floor with a relieved whirring of his processors.

He let go of the tight reign he had over his body, and was not surprised to find that the plates covering his genitalia had already slipped open. Lubricant made the sound seem vulgar, a soft shlup as his pussy was revealed. Sure, he had both, but right now, all he desired was to feel full and whole again.

His fingers were deft in their exploration, pressing aside carbon-fiber lips to thrust in. Even as he added fingers, nearly fisting himself in a desperate attempt to get that stretch he craved, it just wasn’t enough.

Well, thankfully for him, he had detachable pieces. He shifted more panels aside to free his cock, motors stuttering as his hand brushed against it. He was tempted to focus on just that, but the ache in his cunt was not to be denied.

With a few clicks, the member was released cleanly, the vacuum hissing as it faded. He may not be able to feel it once it was no longer attached, but he would certainly feel it when it was inside. He shuddered as he glanced around his room, optics checking each surface for its suitability.

He had no bed, nor need of one, so his thoughts needed to be a bit more creative. No chairs, either, for that matter. The floor was wooden with a thin, but clean rug covering the well-worn tracks of many feet. There was a small desk, solid and heavy, though it was covered with various papers and letters. He delicately set them aside, taking a moment to organize them.

Most were simple letters from monks in their various lands, writing back to friends. One, however, he set aside more gently, though he knew it made no difference. It was a photograph of Genji when he first arrived, the haughty bearing of his straight back and soft green glow making Zenyatta throb in desire. He may not be able to have Genji, but he could certainly pretend.

He set his dick on the surface, adjusting the seal to make sure it wouldn’t shift. He stretched out his legs, feeling odd as he finally put his weight on his feet for the first time in weeks. He wriggled in place a bit to make sure he had his balance as he shuffled down his pants, then shifted onto the desk, sitting on his knees.

From habit, his hands turned over, placed on his knees and he felt some of the urgency fade as he assumed a meditative position. Perhaps that was for the best; a quick scratching of the itch wasn’t going to relieve it, only being truly satisfied would.

He called Genji to mind, focusing on the quick motion of his hand as he threw shuriken, the confidence in his form when his blade was in hand. Zenyatta lowered himself slowly, feeling the ridged cock push inside, forcing the tight walls apart. There was no true burn, like flesh, but a certain pulse of the electricity within made it just as sweet. He was slow, going lower and lower until his lips pressed against the wood.

His hands shook. It was a feeling he had sorely missed. Why had he even bothered to try and hide his nature? He was made this way, after all; a sexbot meant to be fucked and used. He twitched around the cock at the thought, pausing to analyze why, then cautiously followed the meandering mentality.

A slut, ready to spread his legs for any cock that promised a good ride-- he felt his spine straighten, the angle pressing him further against the wood as his legs went flat against the desk. A nice bonus of being omnic indeed; there was no true “stretch” or “splits” to be fought for, just a shifting of his hip joints and he was as deep as he could take himself.

He shivered, the wires of his torso flushing with energy as he began to raise himself, riding slowly enough to feel each and every change of shape as the various ridges stimulated him. As much as he tried to be patient, his desperation began to take hold once Genji entered his mind again.

Perhaps Genji would be rough. He had anger like no one Zenyatta had ever seen, no patience for meditation or going slowly. He barely accepted the omnics as it was, his lifelong prejudice letting him manhandle Zenyatta like a toy.

His fluids squelched against the wood as he rocked against it, balancing most of his weight on his palms now, using them to raise and lower himself to better keep his legs wide open for Genji’s beautiful cock to spear into him repeatedly, fucking him like he was worthless, only something to be used a cum dumpster. The filth he knew Genji could spew made his various gears and hydraulics hiss as they were pushed further, bouncing on the cock given to him like a born whore.

Disgusting mess of scrap , he might growl as he tugged Zenyatta’s arms back to force the omnic to arch his spine. He shifted with his imaginings, the angle striking that dedicated sensor deep inside and making his hips jitter in place. The hollow sound of metal vibrating against wood was loud, but it didn’t break his concentration.

You were made to be thrown down and pounded. You didn’t even take payment, did you? Just bent over, displaying yourself lewdly for any passers-by to take. You begged, didn’t you?

He couldn’t help the soft sounds emanating from his speakers; ingrained programming making a nonexistent breath catch, gasps and faint moans. He had needed this… so, so badly. Hiding his true purpose was not worth this. He would have to admit his vulgarity to Mondatta and beg forgiveness.

Zenyatta rolled his hips in quick, shallow motions, forcing the dick to press insistently against the sensor that was deconstructing his control one bit at a time.

Filthy, Mondatta would say gently, understanding even as disappointment bled through his tone. You cannot help yourself. Debasing yourself comes naturally to you. Why hide it? You must accept yourself if the Iris is to accept you.

Zenyatta whimpered pathetically, his imagined Genji next to Mondatta and looking down at the whore he was making himself into, in front of the temple, no less. Any monk could come by to see him, his pussy stretched wide around his own cock.

So desperate you couldn’t even search out somebody else? Genji jeered at him, even as Zenyatta sped up his rocking. You had to fuck yourself… literally. Was everyone else too ashamed of you to want to fill your needs?

No, Mondatta added, almost thoughtfully. He is too loose for anyone else to fill his slutty hole. Look at him.

Zenyatta fingers scrabbled on the wood to the base of the cock he rode, pulling off for just enough time to fiddle with some settings set into the base. It thickened and lengthened obscenely, but he was thrusting himself back on it immediately. A crackle of static frazzled his speakers as the heady slorp of his lubricant messily covering the new surfaces nearly echoed in his mind.

Filthy and disgusting, Genji mocked, arms crossed as he extended a leg. I’ve seen actual whores with more dignity than you.

Zenyatta just shook his head, shuddering. The cockhead began to vibrate, shocking the monk who had forgotten that feature, having used it so rarely. “Please!”

Genji’s head shifted, the clear motion indicating that he rolled his eyes. And now you’re reduced to begging before anyone even touched you. I didn’t know you were so pathetic.

What a needy omnic. Mondatta knelt, a hand brushing over Zenyatta’s head. He could nearly feel the soft press of the metallic digits, the faint shock of conductive surfaces meeting jolting him into dropping down faster. Should we have mercy?

Does he deserve it? Genji scoffed, but just the same, stepped closer. He extended a foot, pressing almost too hard against the little nub above Zenyatta’s folds. The base of Zenyatta’s hand mimicked the motion, grinding against his clit roughly. He cried out, the noise a garbled, staticky mess of Mondatta and Genji’s names, as if he tried to moan their names simultaneously.

Zenyatta rutted against Genji’s foot, whining as he felt the telltale throbs and pulsing that indicated an incoming overload. He had not had a true overload in… years, probably, mere orgasms sufficing for his needs. But now, no, he needed to fall apart before his master and pupil. Two entirely different kinds of shame flooded Zenyatta; disappointing Mondatta, who expected better; disgusting Genji, who thought omnics low to begin with.

Genji’s foot twitched against Zenyatta, heavily flattened against the swollen, needy nub there. An accompanying twitch of lost control and Zenyatta fell with all his weight on the toy. A scream of static and a hard rub on his clit, and he fell apart.

The bliss was unknowable, hot and heady as it raced through his wires as though he had been shocked by lightning. Hands roaming over the carapace of his chest, fingers testing the swollen rim of his cunt, feeling the hot lubricant squirt against the desk, pressing just two slim digits along the cock. Hands holding him in place as he shuddered, refusing to let him rise from the overbearing pleasure, to release the deeply seated cock and give a moment of reprieve.

His sight swam with alerts about the state of his body, but he dismissed them with nary a thought to their importance. A golden, ethereal glow lit up the room, the hands that he felt inside, felt pinching and teasing at his clit, plucking at the delicate wiring on his neck-- they were real. The peace and joy of wholeness transcended space and time. He was connected to the world in a way he had never even imagined before, an infinitely varied wavelength that had no end or beginning, music that shaped the earth and all those inside, bringing joy to a young man seeing peace for the first time in years, a flutter of a butterfly wing that would one day become a mighty monsoon across the world, and he could understand all of it.

His ascension flickered like a dying screen, fading into obscurity and leaving him weak and fatigued. He slumped, his circuits sluggish and tired, but so, so supremely satisfied that he would embrace death and feel complete.

He returned to himself in bits and pieces, feeling the pinch of a wire held too tight for too long in his hip, rising to let the cock slide out. He shivered, wires jumping before settling again, leaning against the wall behind. Sounds returned before sight, a worried knocking on the door catching his lethargic attention.

His optics came back online, and he sat up. Not bothering to redress, Zenyatta unlocked and opened the door. Mondatta and Genji were both in the hallway, Genji pushing inside and past Mondatta to look Zenyatta over.

“Master! Are you well? I heard static from your room and I worried for your health.” Genji fluttered around the omnic like a bird, trying to find the source of the seemingly terrible reaction. Mondatta, for his part, tilted his head just slightly. He understood.

“Genji,” Mondatta interrupted gently, grasping the young man’s wrist. “Give him a moment. He has become one with the Iris for the first time. Let him return to our plane of existence.”

Genji froze in place at both the words and realizing what happened. He stepped back towards the hallway, though he hesitated at the door. “Master?” He queried, still concerned. “Are you well?”

Zenyatta rolled his shoulders as he was released from the last of the Iris’ gentle affections, pressing a hand to the wall for support. “I am… I have never been better.”

Mondatta inclined his head, and Zenyatta knew that Mondatta was proud. “I am glad that you finally found your peace, brother. Hiding your nature and trying to deny yourself, regardless of the purity of intent, is not healthy.”

Genji didn’t know where to look, trying to avoid looking at the still dripping pussy between Zenyatta’s legs only to see the dick on the desk and the associated fluids there. “I-- Uh-- I am glad you are well, Master. Should I leave you--?”

“No!” Zenyatta called, more loudly than intended, and lowered his volume. “No. I am fine. I have learned something very important today. Perhaps we can apply it to you?”

Genji turned to look at Mondatta, but the monk was gone, leaving him perplexed as to how sex could apply to him. “I do not understand.”

Zenyatta placed his hand on Genji’s shoulder. “Acceptance, my pupil. It all begins within.”

Genji paused, struggling not to make the joke. He failed. “Within or within , Master?”

Zenyatta laughed. “Both, Genji. Both.”