fruits of the very short live-write just now^^ I’m tired so I wonder how it came out lol

heed the tags plz so you won’t wander into something you don’t like

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Hanzo makes a soft sound in the back of his throat. It sounds disgusted, and Jesse’s fingers curl into the bedding in response. The archer’s dark eyes flick to the movement, then up to McCree’s dully flushed face.

“You’re ridiculous,” he tells him, voice clipped. He sounds prim even though he’s crouching on the floor between McCree’s legs. “You are so loud-mouthed, I thought…” he is almost muttering at this point, dark eyes trailing back down to the gunslinger’s cock. Jesse’s toes curl in his boots. His wide chest spasms painfully as the breath stutters out of him.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, voice scratchy. Eager. His dark eyes are large and wet and hopeful. “Yeah?”

Hanzo’s fingers squeeze a little tighter around his cock, then loosen again. His hand is broad, covering the sturdy length of Jesse’s shaft – only the flared, blunt tip is peeking out of the fist, and already it is shiny, a little dribble of pre-cum oozing from the slit as the silence stretches and Jesse’s rattling, excited breathing is too loud in the room.

The archer hesitates, fingertips idly dragging along the silky, hot skin; he turns his head minimally to the side, watching Jesse from beneath heavy lids out of the corner of his eyes.

“One would have thought you would be able to put your money where your mouth is… as you Americans would say.”

He squeezes again, and when all he gets is a low, eager groan, he doesn’t hide the feigned moue of distaste thinning his lips as he watches a drop of pre-cum roll down the glans and wetting the edge of his hand.

It only seems to get McCree hotter, his knees jerking apart in a spastic motion that gets his ridiculous belt buckle to clank noisily against the bedframe. His feet are restless, the spurs on his boots as loud as the rest of the boisterous person.

Hanzo lets him jerk and fidget while the excitement brews warm and prickly in his belly. He hadn’t anticipated enjoying this as much as he does.

“Maybe it was to be expected,” he continues, voice still crisp and deep; sounding unaffected from the proceedings and the dishevelment of the other man. “There is a saying about overcompensation, is there not? And you are so very loud.” He glances at the ridiculous cowboy boots; the useless spurs jangling at their heels. He holds McCree’s cock in a death grip and feels his pulse thrumming rabbit fast against the heel of his hand. “So very… eager to get noticed by everybody.”

McCree’s chin is on his chest, his shaggy beard moving with his open-mouthed pants. He looks like he is already seconds from coming and Hanzo is fascinated. They hadn’t been at it for more than a handful of minutes.

“Don’t tell me this is all?” He almost barks it, startling McCree into jerking his hips up, trying – and failing – to fuck into Hanzo’s fist. He couldn’t fuck where there was no slack to buck into. “You’re already so close?”

He finally moves his hand; a slow – torturously slow – motion of his wrist, pushing up a couple of centimeters to cup the tip of McCree’s short, sturdy cock, gathering the copious pre-cum drooling from the slit, then pushing back down. He waits for McCree to sigh softly, then opens his slick fist and wipes it against the unkempt bush of his pubes.

McCree grunts in surprised dismay, head coming up from where he let it fall back. He stares at Hanzo who is still hunkering between his thighs and looking at his cock like it was an interesting specimen.

It was a pretty dick, after all; short and fat. Good looking despite its lack.

Hanzo lets one hand drop out of sight non-chalantly; presses the heel against his own cock. McCree didn’t need to know how hot the sight made him. How much he wanted to suck that surprisingly short cock into his mouth and savor the salty pre-cum. Maybe – maybe – let McCree hump across his tongue until he shot his load.

(Hanzo’s belly clenches when he thinks about how McCree would need to grunt fuck him – would really need to work for it – if he wanted to try and throatfuck him.)

“Wha’ issit?” McCree is slurring. Whiney like a schoolboy. Like he deserves himself a treat for having the shortest dick Hanzo had yet met. Jesse reaches for his cock to jerk himself but Hanzo’s free hand shoots forward to stay him before he can play – yet not before Hanzo sees how huge McCree’s mechanical hand looks next to his cock.

He already thinks about a next time – making McCree jerk off for him. Commenting on how McCree was able to engulf his own cock fully in his fist…

“You lured me in here with false promises, McCree.”

“…Wha?” McCree’s eyes look feverish, his cheeks a brick red. He’s chuffing like an old engine and as they both stare, his short cock flexes out another string of pre-cum which slides down the stout, fat shaft and mattes his pubes.

Hanzo presses his hand almost painfully against his own cock. He can feel it wet into his underwear, and a shudder runs down his back.

“You promised me a nice cock to suck. You said you’d be able to fuck me raw…” And yes he would be able to. Hanzo could already imagine it: the juicy width spreading him open, making him accommodate McCree’s girth… but that was not the point. The point was-

“I think you should apologize, don’t you? And maybe, if you do it well enough, I’ll jerk your pitiful cock off at least.”

McCree’s broad hips shimmy from side to side, his cock swaying where it stands rigidly in the air. He sounds hoarse when he croaks: “‘M sorry.”

Hanzo pushes a hand underneath the sash holding his pants up. It only needs minimal fumbling to curl his fingers around his own cock. Everything is warm and tacky in his underwear. He bites the tip of his tongue for a second to get himself back under control and make his voice not tremble as much.

“What are you sorry for?”

McCree’s face falls for a moment. He looks clueless. Helpless. His beard his shivering with the sharp breaths he’s taking, eyes flicking from Hanzo’s cool, unimpressed – flushed – face to his cock and back again.

When he understands finally, he looks almost like he is about to cry. Hanzo hesitates – suddenly unsure whether he had gone too far. Before he can backpaddle, McCree rasps: “‘M sorry for having such a short dick.”

It’s jerking as he says it; his balls drawing up tight and sudden, Jesse’s voice getting high and urgent. “‘M sorry for – please, I … please??”

Hanzo groans through his nose as he falls forward, mouth open and wet and greedy. The first splash of cum hits his tongue even before he got his lips around McCree’s cock.

He wonders how sensitive McCree is that a little dirty talk can get him so hot. He wonders if he’s always like that. He wonders if he’s ever even been able to play like this – or if this is years of pent up frustration.

Suddenly, Hanzo wonders a lot of things about the cowboy as he drinks down his thick, creamy cum and listens to McCree groan his way through his orgasm – all the while clutching his own cock, and forgetting to jerk off in the face of this unexpected, delightful development.