McCree and Reyes were so fucked up before the second rise of Overwatch :O only McCree kinda found his equilibrium back, it seems…

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“McCree. Stay.”

Jesse winces and eyes his team mates as they file out of the showers hastily, leaving him alone with Commander Reyes. He tries to stand at attention, but he’s never been in the military, so he has no real idea of how to do it. He just makes sure to keep his back straight and tries to not look too self-conscious with just a towel around his waist and only one sock on.

Reyes stalks towards him; big and dangerous, still in his tactical gear from the training session they’ve just completed. His dark eyes give nothing away.

“You’ve got good aim,” he says, when he’s finally right up in Jesse’s face. Close enough that he can smell the sweat and feel his belly tighten in conflicting arousal. Reyes’ voice is low, almost a whisper, and Jesse hates himself for how warm the praise makes him feel.

“Sure, I-”

“How ‘bout you keep your fucking eyes on the target, then.”

Jesse’s stomach drops. He leans back and away from Reyes, as his face becomes hot with shame. Has he noticed-

“I don’t appreciate being watched.”

Yes. Yes, he noticed.

“Understood, Sir.”

“Hopefully.”

.o.

Jesse can’t leave well enough alone, can he?

He wants to say that it’s just because Reyes explicitly warned him not to do it. He wants to say that it’s just because he’s a bastard and he likes the thrill of the forbidden.

He knows it’s something else entirely, but he’d never go far enough to admit it to himself.

Instead, McCree finds himself loitering around base when he doesn’t have anything else to do. It’s not hard to find his boss, because he always was in spitting range of Morrison – and where Morrison was, recruits tended to flock.

Morrison was a likable kind of guy. Approachable and hard working. He gave off farmboy vibes, and McCree should’ve felt connected to him.

Instead, he could only stare at Reyes from beneath the brim of his hat, quickly ducking into shadows whenever he turned around, looking for the invisible gaze he could feel on his person.

It wasn’t that McCree wanted to make Reyes angry, per se – he just wanted… he wanted… 

Attention.

.o.

Jesse rounds the corner and abruptly stands still. He frowns as he stares down the corridor – no sign of Reyes. He could’ve sworn…

A heavy weight slams into his back and rams him against the wall. His vision is blurry from his forehead connecting with the concrete, and he can dimly feel a big hand on the back of his head before his face gets mashed into the wall.

“This is my last warning, McCree,” Reyes hisses into his ear. Jesse can smell whiskey on his breath; warm and familiar. It’s just as oppressive as the broad, unrelenting body pressing against his back – and he has the weirdest, most conflicted boner.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at – but you should stop your little game. I am… not amused.”

Reyes gives him one more little shove into the wall, but all Jesse feels is the short nudge of his Commander’s hips against his ass. Reyes leaves him standing in the corridor with a bruise slowly forming on his forehead, and his cock throbbing helplessly.

.o.

“Good shot.” The curt, almost grudging praise had come crackling over the com right in the middle of the training session, and fucked Jesse right up.

He absolutely botches the rest trying to show off for Reyes. In retaliation, Reyes did… nothing.

He just did nothing. Didn’t even fucking mention it. Didn’t cuff Jesse around the back of his head, or called him a good for nothing ingrate. He didn’t threaten to give him the boot and kick him back to Route 66 where he’d found him.

He just… did nothing, and Jesse didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like he wanted Reyes to be mad at him or hit him or…

… It was like that, if he was honest.

He wanted to get pushed around, he wanted to get noticed, he wanted – 

“You don’t know when to stop, do you… little boy.”

Reyes sounds almost conversational. It’s too late at night to stumble upon him on accident here in the shower rooms, and Jesse can just stand and helplessly stare from the shadow of one of the lockers. There’s nothing he could say now.

He’d watched his Commander work out in the gym; stemming weights and pounding dummies for hours on end, face a mask of rage and hate that slowly seemed to melt away into grim resignation.

He’d just stood in the corner and watched, hand in his crotch, squeezing the bulge of his cock, and coming up with strange, nonsensical scenarios of how he could approach his boss. Get on his knees and mash his face into his sweaty crotch. Suffocate himself on the big, uncut dick and let Reyes fuck his frustrations out into his throat in sharp, violent thrusts.

“Come here.”

Jesse does. He feels strangely weepy, alone with Reyes and with his cock hard and throbbing in his pants. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen and yet he hopes it will be horrible. He wants Reyes to hurt him and degrade him and insult him – just… just pay attention to him.

–

He has no idea how he ends up on one of the benches, with his Commander slowly lowering his ass right onto his face. His brain shorted out; he doesn’t know what happened to lead to this. He has the vague recollection of Reyes talking to him with a low, painfully calm voice. 

He sounded soothing. Like he understood. Like he knew exactly what was going on in McCree.

He sounded like a father.

“I know what you need,” he can hear Reyes’ voice from above him. Strong fingers are in his hair, keeping him just the way his Commander wants him to be, before everything gets dark and humid and suffocating.

He can feel the heaviness of Reyes’ testicles against his forehead seconds before he has to open his mouth on instinct and give his hole a broad lick.

Reyes is drenched in sweat, and Jesse digs his nose in just behind his humid balls because his Commander’s low, rattling groan at getting his sweaty ass licked by his protege makes him teary eyed again.

“Good. You’re doing good,” Reyes sighs above him, thick thighs bracketing Jesse’s head. The muscles flex with Reyes’ little, rocking motions – as he drags his ass across Jesse’s tongue – and it was fucking scary to have his head in between them.

Jesse could imagine Reyes being able to pop his head with those thighs if he just put his mind to it, and it just made him sob against his boss’ slick taint, and a trickle of cum soak into his boxers.

He was a freak and completely broken, but he was okay with it because he could mash his face into his boss’ fat ass and get complimented for doing such a great job.

“You can be a good boy if you want to,” Reyes muses above him. He sounds a little out of breath, voice a deep, rumbling growl, and tears spring to Jesse’s eyes because he thinks I did that. I.

Reyes drags his cock unabashedly across Jesse’s face as he rides him; smears his low hanging, ripe balls right across his closed eyelids, and presses down with his weight to have him gasp for breath.

Reyes was a fucking bastard and Jesse was dumb enough to lap it right up, and thank him for the privilege of getting suffocated by his ass.

“I know exactly how to make it stop hurting.” Reyes dark voice is an insidious whisper that goes right to Jesse’s core and makes him try and press his tongue past the tight muscle he had been worshiping with kisses and licks.

“Say it, little boy. Maybe I will let you come, too. Just say it.”

Jesse squeezes his eyes shut tighter. His scalp was burning with Reyes’ unrelenting fingers tearing at his too long hair. His body was a bow strung too tight, and he was scared what might happen when he finally snapped.

“Say it, Jesse.”

And maybe it was the sharp tug on his hair, or the insistent downward grind of Reyes’ hips – or the fact that he’d called him Jesse…

He had no idea what he was supposed to say until he actually did. It just tumbled out of his mouth, groaned against Reyes’ sweaty, gorgeous ass, with Jesse’s cock confusedly drooling little dribbles of cum into his underwear.

“Daddy.”

Reyes laughed at him.