The promised soft McReaper :3 not really porny

Edit: Added a lil something for @ikkanoodles because he kicked his feetsies like a rowdy boi ò.ó

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Reaper is lurking in the shadows when McCree stumbles out of the back of the bar to take a piss. He watches him fumble out his cock and listens his sigh as he lets go of the pressure on his bladder.

Jesse’s voice is deeper than it had been years ago. There’s a smoky rasp to it. Reaper feels smoke tendrils curl towards him, stretching, only centimeters from touching the sweaty nape of his neck – then he quickly snatches them away and retreats back into the farthest, darkest corner as he watches Jesse pack back up and turn around. He sways a little on his heel. His face is half hidden in the shadow of his hat and his jaw looks slack.

The boy looks… defeated. Almost blackout drunk.

Reaper follows him as he makes his unsteady way through the streets.

.o.

Reaper can’t keep his smoke from caressing McCree’s face anymore. The room is dark and stinks of alcohol and sweat. Jesse collapsed on the bed, the heavy gun belt still strapped around his hips.

They look sturdier than they had when he’d still been in Blackwatch. He had filled out over the course of his stay there, but still it couldn’t compare to the build he had now.

He had a huge barrel chest and thick biceps and thighs. He looked both better and worse than ever.

Reaper touches his face, cups his shallow cheeks with gentle tendrils and pushes the brim of his hat up with another pair until he can see McCree’s bruised looking eyelids.

Reaper slides closer, slips astride him in a whispering move. He tests the waters like this – gauges how well Jesse’s strong hips feel between his thighs.

When he leans down and nuzzles his masked face against the wild growth of his beard, Jesse hums and turns into the touch. His arms lift and he weakly, drunkenly clutches Reaper to his chest.

Reaper indulges him – indulges himself – for a moment, staying close, breathing in his scent of stale sweat and beer, then moves his hips. A slow downwards grind. Even through both their clothes he can feel McCree’s cock, fat and soft. Girthy.

“Jesse…” Reaper breathes, ass lifting and sinking down slow and measured. There is no rush; he doesn’t need to take it by force. Jesse hums, his voice deep and a little rough. Whiskey warm.

His embrace loosens for a moment, arms sliding down – and Reaper already fears he might have fallen asleep fully – but then his big hands curl around his biceps and squeeze gently.

Always gentle, this one. A big, feral looking bear that just wanted hugs. It had always been like that. 

Jesse was a cuddler. A lover.

“Commander,” he sighs. Reaper halts at that for a moment, stares at the serene face, then decides Jesse had to be in his own little alcohol induced dream.

“Yes,” he whispers back, hips still moving, slow, measured, dragging his dick across the bulge of McCree’s cock.

Jesse doesn’t say any more, so Reaper moves; slides down and nestles between those long, sturdy legs.

He wonders how much Jesse actually realizes is happening; how much his alcohol addled brain keeps up with everything.

He does start fussing and whining when the heavy weight of another body leaves him, but smoke teasing his lips and slipping into his mouth to toy with his tongue is enough to occupy him.

His cock is mouth watering, even soft as it was now. Reaper slides his mask up, just enough to free his mouth. He can feel himself almost drooling as he tilts his head down and takes a deep breath of the wild tangle of hair at the base of McCree’s cock.

God, he was a wreck. What had he been doing all those years away from Overwatch? Blackwatch? Him?

He looked like he was barely keeping it together as it was.

He made soft noises, little choking sounds as Reaper’s smoky tendril lovingly petted his tongue. His large, gloved hands flailed, then found their way down, fisting in Reaper’s cowl.

Still, his cock stayed soft; even when Reaper stuffed the meaty girth of it into his mouth, nearly choking and not giving a fuck about it. Tears shot to his eyes but he forced himself to slip closer, take more into his mouth, to the very back of his throat, filling himself with Jesse’s thick taste and smell.

Jesse fussed around a bit, knees lifting, then lowering, hands faintly pulling on the cowl – but his dick stayed soft. Goddamn alcohol.

Reaper’s smoke shifted, billowing, slipping across Jesse and pressing him down like a lover just to feel him. To experience him.

He snuggled his face against one thick, muscled thigh and sighed through his nose. ghostly silvery tear tracks slipped from beneath his mask and he couldn’t say whether it was from sad nostalgia or himself choking on Jesse’s cock.

Jesse settled down. Sighed – his large chest rising mightily beneath the armor he still wore. He sounded satisfied and content. Moments later he began snoring, hands still fisting Reaper’s cowl.

Reaper wondered what he would think in the morning. Would he remember anything of tonight?

He closed his eyes and suckled, nursing, grinding his cock slow and lazy against the mattress. He didn’t think he wanted to get off tonight. He just wanted to feel.

---

He must have fallen asleep.

The room is lighter than it had been a second before. He blinked slowly, owlishly, and watched the large hand coming towards his face, fingertips sliding against his cheekbone.

He gasps softly – lips making a little wet smack as he dislodges from the warm, chubby cock rubbing along his tongue – and then looks up. Jesse still has one arm up, hand at the small lamp on his rickety side table.

His other is rubbing Reaper’s cheek slowly, hypnotically, dark eyes watching Reaper’s slack, confused face.

“What a pretty sight,” the cowboy mumbles. He still looks half drunk, but a lot more attentive than earlier. Reaper feels stupidly trapped; chin nudging against Jesse’s cock – still wet from his mouth.

Jesse cups his face, rubs a thumb along his lips, and slowly Reaper realizes he has taken his mask away.

“Am I hallucinating?” McCree asks, voice rough and deep, fingers dipping to rub beneath Reaper’s chin as if he were a kitten. Reaper can’t help the shudder – or the way he angles his head to better receive the contact. “Why don’t you come up here…?”

This was surreal.

He slowly drags himself up Jesse’s body. Up close, he can see how wet those dark brown eyes were. He gasps when he is suddenly snatched up in thick arms and crushed towards the armored chest.

“Fuck. Am I dying? ‘M I lying in some ditch with alcohol poisoning? I can’t…”

Reaper sighs and closes his eyes, forehead pressing against Jesse’s cheek.

“No. Everything is… ok.”