Jesse is a tactile motherfucker; he likes to kiss and snuggle while he’s fucking, but the moment he leans down onto his elbows to get a little closer to the dark mass beneath him, a maw shoots out from it towards his biceps.

“Hey now,” he scolds, reaction quick even though he can’t quite think straight with his cock gripped tight and almost too hot within Gabriel. “None of that.”

The rebuke is gentle enough but Reaper recoils like a kicked dog, the sharp teeth retreating quickly, and his form solidifying once more until Jesse can feel thick, strong thighs around his hips, holding on for dear life.

He’s not tried to bite out of malice, Jesse understands that well enough; he simply tends to get overwhelmed when he gets dick, going near liquid and needy when McCree stuffs him.

“There you go,” he croons, leaning down and nosing along Gabriel’s jaw. It’s still weird to see him without a mask; his face a bit more pale than Jesse was used to, but his dark eyes are wide and desperate just the same, his thighs squeezing until the pressure hurts around his hips.

“You love my cock, don’t you?” He leans down once more, now that Reaper seems to have more control of himself, and rubs their cheeks together to let him feel the rough bristle of his beard. 

He reaches down, grabing hand fulls of Gabriel’s gratifyingly fat ass and hoisting him up a bit more into his thrusts.

It is more work than he usually likes, but Reaper has been fussy the whole time and he feels like having him sit on his dick would be akin to giving it off for good, so he decided to put him on his back and do the work instead.

Gabriel thanks him by rippling around his cock like the well-seasoned whore he is and suckling hickies into his shoulders, mouth wet and as uncomfortably hot as his ass.

“Yeah… yeah you love my cock. You’re so hungry for it… Could give it to you when I’ve taken the edge of that itch, hmm? When I’ve scratched where it tingles, and got you nice and filled with my cock. Can let you suckle on it and choke on my dick and give you all the cream you could ever ask for.”

He yearns for a goddamn smoke, his teeth aching with the need to chew on something while he concentrates on not coming too quickly. Reaper is hanging on to his every word, growling low in a way that sounds like the murmuring of an eldritch god.

It unnerves Jesse when he listens to it too much, so he tends to fill the silence by babbling whatever comes into his head.

“Gonna give it to you nice and good. Just like you need.”