My rebellious wifey @robotfvckers donated me a few coffees for Zenyatta with therapy service top McGoo Q.Q too kind too generous. too rebellious  ò.ó

Zenyatta lifts and lowers with the slow, inexorable motion of McCree’s broad chest. He listens to his snoring whenever he inhales; a drawn-out, deep rattle that vibrates through him and makes him feel like he is lying on top of a tiger, or lion – a big, warm cat that has rolled onto its back for him without a hitch. Submitting to the smaller prey.

He starts squirming, slips his smooth thigh up McCree’s body until his hips are shifting against him. He doesn’t want to disturb McCree’s sleep, but he is not down enough to follow, either. In front of Genji it is easier to pretend like Mondatta’s death hasn’t cut him as deeply, but in the night he feels… young and vulnerable. Not as in-control and assured as he usually projects.

There’s a small catch in McCree’s snoring, then he smacks his lips, his mechanical hand slipping from the small of Zenyatta’s back onto his behind, squeezing the supple skin.

“No’ sleep yet?” he rumbles, voice so deep, Zenyatta’s cock flexes, rubbing wet against the broad hip. McCree hasn’t opened his eyes, doesn’t even seem fully awake. He moves on autopilot, easily tugging Zenyatta’s negligible weight until he has the monk seated on top.

“Jus’ secon’“ he slurs, fumbling between them. He is sleep warm, his chest hair coarse and ample beneath Zenyatta’s fingers. He almost wants to be ashamed at his own neediness; wants to apologize – but McCree doesn’t seem put out at all.

He sleepily lifts his dick, the blunt tip pressing against Zenyatta’s still-wet hole – and clumsily tugs at the back of his neck until Zenyatta leans down for some slow, warm, lazy kisses that fill him with prickling, tingling warmth and distract him from the slow, wet slide of McCree’s cock into him.

There’s nothing that could distract him from the stretch and fill for long, though. Not when he can feel McCree’s cock, big and warm, the tip pressing against his belly from the inside, just beneath his belly button.

“There you go.” McCree is barely intelligible. He is pressing warm, wet kisses against Zenyatta’s mouth and his chin and jaw. Everywhere he can reach, and Zenyatta is turning into it like a cat.

He wants to move, but McCree’s big hands are holding his hips still so he can work his cock through Zenyatta’s clenching channel. Slow, sleepy rocking motions as Zenyatta pants warm and moist against his face, breath hitching when the blunt tip presses against his insides especially deep.

He knows if he reaches down he will be able to feel McCree in his belly, but he can’t make himself move. It is nice to be pampered; to have nothing to worry about as McCree croons half-asleep and uses the mess he left in him a few hours ago to easily fuck him once more.

His chest is warm and massive beneath his fingers and when McCree folds his arms around his shoulders, Zenyatta carefully folds his own arms against his chest and lets himself lie down on top of him to get fucked to sleep.

He never knows whether he or McCree ever came, but he does know that he hasn’t slept as deep and peaceful in a long while.