smol slutty bottom McCree. probs gonna ad a few blurbs throughout the day.

Deadlock had not been… ideal, but it had also not all been bad.

Like McCree had gotten all the dick he could ever have wanted, spending most of his days bend over, sometimes even helpfully spreading his cheeks just so someone would take pity on him.

They did like to insult him, telling him his ass was ‘too fucking hairy’, that he needed to do something about it if he wanted to keep getting dicked – but truth was that they still had thumbed the crisp fur to the side and pushed right into the slicked up, warm space they unearthed.

Jesse had kind of liked how they talked about him; just grinning along and taking the abuse, cock lazily interested in how negligent they were about fucking him; rutting into him and depositing a warm, creamy load before leaving him to hunt down another cock that was up for the challenge.

They did not much care for making sure he came and that was more than fine with him. He didn’t much care for it himself: he just wanted to get fucked; to feel his rim being pouty and swollen, tingling from a good reaming.

Blackwatch had been good for that, too. There had not been the sheer variety and collection of dicks, but Reyes alone was… very nice. He had a big cock. Girthy. One that Jesse fantasized about when the commander was out and about, stuffing himself with a few fingers, the angle too awkward to get a good self-loving session in but unable to keep from touching anyway.

After that, Overwatch had been a disappointment for the longest time.

For some reason they seemed to think he would like to give more than he’d like to receive and wasn’t that just frustrating? Prowling around base, looking for a fix for that itch, seeing all those virile, tasty cocks and not knowing how to approach.

It took a kind of intervention, in the end; him kneeling in the showers, trying to fuck himself and failing because he’d never be able to give himself as good as he wanted it, so frustrated he could cry, ass angled high in the air, at least trying to get some of the water pressure drumming against his rim and take some of the edge off… until finally, finally Lúcio stumbled across him – and everything immediately became better.

There were none of the insults and the faked disgust from the Deadlock days, but he enjoyed Lúcio’s breathless, whiny praise just as much; liked watching them in the mirror, how the young man was curled over him, hands framing his hips, mumbling about his plush – fat – ass and how much he adored it; slamming into him, making him take the abuse and getting stupidly excited at how well he could receive – sturdy enough not to get toppled over but to even angle back into it.

Craving it. Needing it.

God, he had dreamed of this for so long.