Hanzo is simultaneously the worst and best fuck Jesse has ever had. For a sniper that is used to sitting quietly for hours on end, he bounces like a rabbit with his hind legs caught when he’s getting stuffed with cock.

He doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself: he tugs at his hair and rips at the sheets, then grabs roughly at Jesse’s hip and bicep, and makes as if to crawl away from the insistent pressure of getting fucked.

“Easy,” Jesse grunts, frowning in concentration as he tries to hold Hanzo’s hips down so he can get to work. His tongue is searching and finding the right corner of his mouth again and again, looking for a cigar that is still gleaming in an ashtray on the bedside table.

Hanzo, though, is not easily tamed; he is a wall of muscle, and there is little Jesse can do when there’s sweat pearling on his forehead as he tries to think through the pleasure of Hanzo squeezing down mercilessly on his dick.

Hanzo makes a choked sound, head back, showing off the strong, trembling curve of his throat. He is still watching Jesse, his eyes gleaming wet with tears of overstimulation.

Jesse’s never had a partner that was as easy as Hanzo is; he barely worked his cock in before the archer had started whining for it, wide chest heaving and dick jerking against Jesse’s hirsute belly.

“Fuck,” Hanzo hisses explosively, then bites his lip, body taut and trembling as he tries to keep himself a bit more contained; but then Jesse moves again, grinding forward, and he moves again, slapping his hands – painfully – against Jesse’s chest, fingers gripping into the thick hair there as he comes sudden and hard on Jesse’s cock.

He’s barely fucked him for more than 15 minutes, and he is dazed, watching as Hanzo pulls his knees up, body practically curling in on itself as he rides his quick, nervous orgasm out.

Afterwards, he is more relaxed, an almost dopey grin on his face as he purrs and undulates his body, fingers still in Jesse’s chest hair, but more petting than tugging now.

“More.”

Jesse huffs.