“I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t!”

Reaper throws his head back, jaw clenched so tight Reinhardt can hear the impressive sharp teeth gnashing and grinding. He is vibrating in his arms, between his thighs, but not in a good way. The lovely fat cock in Reinhardt’s fist quickly lost interest as the pain roiled visibly beneath Reaper’s skin, making it ripple and twist.

Reinhardt could hear the faint pop of bones and pulled in a deep, rattling breath.

“Okay. Okay. Yes, okay.” He rubs his cheek against the side of Reaper’s face, large hand still holding on to the softening cock, thumb soothingly rubbing down the plump length and up to the tip, playing with the loose foreskin while Reaper writhes and growls and rips sharp, shadowy claws into the mattress.

“I know it hurts,” Reinhardt murmurs – and then blinks as pain blooms out from his cheekbone where Reaper headbutted him as best as he could, his eyes glimming hateful like hot coal.

“You know shit, old man,” he snarls. Reinhardt ignores the animosity and starts rubbing a wide, warm palm across the shivering plane of Reaper’s belly.

“I have another idea,” he tells him easily. Reaper starts squirming and making noise about not wanting to try this anymore and just crawling into the shower to die, but he doesn’t move out of Reinhardt’s embrace, so he figures it’s okay to reach over and get more lube from the bottle; make everything silky and slick for what he has in mind.

.o.

It seems to work better.

Reaper is not fully hard, his cock lying heavy and chubby in the crease of his thigh – but he doesn’t need it for this anyway. His legs are hooked over Reinhardt’s knees, body convulsing – sometimes in pain, more times in nervous, shuddery lust – as he gets fingered slow and intimate, the thick finger rubbing lovingly against his silky, clenching walls.

The first time Reinhardt flirts with his prostate, the blunt large fingertip carefully circling it without touching, he cries out and becomes perfectly still, even forgetting to breathe as he tries to figure out whether the sensation was actually good – could break through the dull, persistent pain of his body working itself over.

He is sweating now, slick and cold against Reinhardt’s skin, his hole clenched tight and suckling around the finger, trying to pull him farther in when all Reinhardt wants to do is make love to his plump prostate and listen to his low, hoarse groans as his body gets forced to accept the pleasure.

“Yes… that’s it,” Reinhardt hums, low, large body curled around him to better reach when he starts struggling and fussing, his cock chubby and juicy as the tip starts getting wet. It is just about peeking out of the foreskin, and Reinhardt curls fingers around the half-hard shaft to rearrange it so he can watch better and let it drool sticky into Reaper’s pubes.

“It’ll be over soon. You’re doing so well,” he tells him in a rumble, fingertip now nudging directly against the sweet, needy spot. “It’ll be better in a moment. Just a moment… That’s it.”

Reaper growls and gnashes his teeth, but it almost sounds petulant at that point; like he is embarrassed as his hips start curving, fucking his half-hard plump dick into nothing at all, the need to deep dick someone or something growing the more Reinhardt presses and teases and makes him stay between his thighs to get worked over slow and patient until he’ll finally let himself come and enjoy the waves of warm euphoria that would let his body rest.