yo! the fruits of my just finished baby live-writing. Enjoy. Also for @francisxie who was thirsty for the ship and I wanted to help x3
Hanzo’s fingers are curled tightly into the lapels of 76’s jacket. The digits have become numb, and the synthetic nerves connecting his legs to his thighs are going haywire, making his feet twitch and his calves actually spasm.
He can’t remember when last he had felt that particular sensation; it was not unwelcome. The burn pulled up his legs and down his curved back to concentrate in the hot mess his pelvis region had become after the second orgasm stolen out of him.
His hips were a cup filled with lava, his cock feeling too tender and his balls aching in the most pleasant way possible; he felt wrung dry and sated, and still his hips were angled back – still he let 76 finger him sweetly, deeply, helping him calm down from the desperate high he had pushed him into in way too short a time.
Hanzo cants his upper body forward, one hand laboriously loosening its death grip on the dark leather to slide up onto one strong shoulder, and then further into the nape of the man’s neck. He nuzzles unthinkingly against the cool synthetic mesh fibre of the mask covering the man’s face.
“Take it off,” he demands in a sated slur, cheek rubbing against the material. The English words feel foreign in his mouth and he would have been surly about how much his tongue refused to curl around them, making him probably sound like a fool – but he can’t dredge up the energy to do so.
He feels calm. Mellowed down by the two orgasms 76 had given him with surprising patience; sitting steadfast on the rickety chair in the run-down little farm house they had chosen for their illicit tryst, not wavering once, no matter how wanton Hanzo moved atop of him, riding his fingers, twisting his hips in sharp, little snaps.
He’d been silent and watching – staring at him through the orange-red of his visor, eyebrows drawn slightly up as if in mild surprise… or amusement. He honestly couldn’t say; he didn’t know the man enough.
“No,” 76 told him, voice gruff but not unkind. His free hand slid along Hanzo’s thigh; rubbed across his hip, thumb testing the sharp edge of Hanzo’s hipbone. “One more?”
Hanzo groaned and shook his head ‘no’, but when he felt the fingers inside him start moving with intent once more, sliding, thrusting, gently circling, he merely presses his forehead against 76’s shoulder and lets him go at it, no matter the electricity sparking through his belly and right into his spent cock, and how on much on pain it is edging.
There is a small puddle of Hanzo’s cooling cum in 76’s lap. Hanzo can see it when he peeks down blearily. He made a right mess out of the stranger.
He can’t believe they only met a few hours ago on the outskirts of a village near Hanamura; a chance encounter, one in a million. He can’t believe he is letting this man do this to him; wreck him on nothing but a couple rough, broad fingers that circle his prostate with near loving care, prodding with soft, gentle fingertips at the ripe swell of it until Hanzo chokes on a cry and bites into the protective mesh covering the man’s throat.
He doesn’t even know his name.
He doesn’t know how he looks beneath his tactical gear. His mask. He doesn’t know whether he is cut, whether he has scars, burns, beauty marks. He doesn’t know whether he is hard beneath those heavy pants he’s wearing.
It’s been enough an hour ago – when Hanzo’s been desperate enough for touch, crawling all over him as soon as it had become apparent he wouldn’t be adverse to the advances. Throwing himself at him like a cat in heat, mewling for it in his own quiet way…
(Panting against the stranger’s ear, whispering about how very much he needed this; needed to get speared by cock and spread open and used like a harlot; all of this in a language he knew 76 would not understand.
How nice it had been of him to give in. How sweet. How accomodating. Letting Hanzo crawl onto his lap, naked and eager, coming down on him like a gentle, insistent storm, wanting all his desires fulfilled and seemingly getting his wishes – until those fingers didn’t pull away after pushing him unerringly into his first orgasm. Until they stay and enjoy the contractions and twitching before taking up their eager, deep exploration of his body yet again, making him groan and buck and hang on for dear life.)
And now it was no longer enough. Hanzo wanted to get at skin – wanted to claw his way beneath the thick leather of the jacket and bite into real skin instead of the protective mesh; wanted to fucking see his face as he rode his fingers.
“Let me see,” he demands, fingers scrabbling at the sides of the mask, useless and still numb, searching for the clasps to release it and grunting softly in frustration when 76’s free hand comes up and easily catches his wrists, pulling his hands down and away. Hanzo wildly wonders whether he used the right words – whether 76 even understood what he was asking of him. His brain goes haywire, not understanding that someone could refuse his demand.
His hips are jerking back, body shuddering, mouth dropping open, and he doesn’t realize he’s coming a third time until he is coming down from it, muscles slowly relaxing from their desperate, tight clench that took the breath from him.
He looks down his body, between the triangle of his caught arms – hands held against 76’s chest – and just stares dumbly at his cock. It’s not even hard; just chubby, vaguely interested, raw looking. His balls hurt gently. He didn’t shoot cum because they’re drained already; he came dry and his brain can’t comprehend the situation.
“One more,” 76 tells him, head dipping forward. Hanzo can’t see his eyes – he has no idea what their color might be – but he still feels like the stranger is searching for his gaze.
Hanzo lifts his head from his quiet perusal of his own cock and just stares back.
“One more,” 76 says again, a little slower this time, voice like sandpaper.
Hanzo doesn’t understand what he is saying until the fingers start moving again. His hole is fucked soft and pliant; clenching weakly as Hanzo’s mouth falls open. He is panting like a dog, and instead of the ‘no, no, no’s he wants to say, he is whispering pathetically breathy ‘ah, ah, ah’s, mouth open, drool slicking from the corner into his beard.
His eyes slant closed, cat-like, belly heaving as he bows his back and pushes it forward. His body is moving on its own, trying simultaneously to strain away and towards the fingers spreading inside him, testing the texture of the spongy, warm walls, scissoring open to lay around his prostate – the needy gland snuggled in between them as much as possible.
He feels like he’s never going to see this man again after this. 76 will drag this out of him, steal it out of him, and leave him a drooling, satisfied mess on the rickety cot in the corner of the rundown place.
He’ll leave on his way, wherever he came from, and Hanzo will wonder what took him to Japan in the first place.
He doesn’t know his name or even what his face looks like, and the sensation crawling up his belly from deep down in his pelvis, is so great, so all consuming, it is frightening. His head falls back and he stares at the ceiling, hips twisting, rocking, jerking. He is drooling and feels delirious. He doesn’t know what this man did to him.
He can feel his heartbeat through the thick material of his jacket where his palms are pressed against his chest by his own restricting hand. It is thudding quick and strong.
Hanzo wonders whether the stranger will think about this for as long as he surely will.
Cyberrat Writes 