“You are awfully cocky for a man trussed naked to a chair, surrounded by guns.”

Hanzo watches McCree with a clinical kind of interest. The man does not look too concerned, even with his big thighs spread and his junk put on display. Maybe it is because he doesn’t have to be ashamed of what he’s showing – or maybe it is because he hasn’t cared about anything for a long while.

Hanzo surmises it is both, though it itches him to make him care.

McCree is slumped a bit, throwing him an infuriating, lazy grin until one of Hanzo’s men knocks his gun roughly against his temple and barks at him to show some respect.

He does pull himself up into more of a sitting position, but it looks like he has to force himself every centimeter of the way.

“What can I say,” he murmurs. “I’m just that easy going I guess. Good show dog, one might say. Don’t bite too awfully fast. Y’ can play with me a while before I get antsy.”

He grins at Hanzo, and Hanzo almost flushes at the insolence. Instead he clicks with his tongue and comes closer – watches how McCree’s dark eyes flick over him. Greedy. Hungry.

Hanzo smirks and plays with his cuffs as if they were not perfectly immaculate.

“Funny you would say that,” he purrs back, now. “I fully do intent to play.”

He lifts his leg then, places his foot on the edge between McCree’s massive thighs. They jump a bit. He can see how the up-and-down of his hairy chest picks up just a tad. He’s getting nervous even though his face remains the same, grin in place.

Eyes flicking from the expensive leather shoe up to Hanzo’s face. He tries to figure out what will happen, but Hanzo doesn’t give him enough time before he shifts minimally – and then he has the large sac squeezed between the sole of his shoe and the hard chair.

McCree hasn’t been expecting it. He pulls in a sharp breath before he can school himself into indifference. Hanzo sees his pupils dilate sharp, a little muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth when Hanzo puts more pressure on his balls.

Oh, how quickly the smarmy grin can be wiped off of McCree’s face – and all it takes is a mean shoe against his tender sac.