So I asked @bicosporn if I could write a lil ficlet accompanying one of their delicious delicious drawings and they were soooo sweet and allowed me to.
This here is the piece I chose. (I’ve been staring at it for days now. Those tits are just sinful. I’ll need to write some McHanzo tittyfucking one of these days.)
enjoy the mini ficlet
McCree sits back, eyes contemplative and tongue rolling the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other. He hadn’t lit it – just kept it between his teeth because he was used to it, and because he liked the look of disdain on his pet’s face whenever he put a new cigar between his lips.
He slowly curled the leash around his fist and watched Hanzo silently fight against the heavy pull of his collar, struggling to keep upright and proud and not let himself get dragged between McCree’s lazily spread knees.
“Aawww you don’t look happy, darling,” (daaahlin’ it came out in a thick, sirupy drawl), “Don’t tell me ya’re a sore looser?” (loosah – he loved the way Hanzo’s glittering, dark eyes narrowed dangerously).
“I’m nothing of the sort.”
But oh he was. McCree could see it in the tightness of his body and the petulant moue of his lips, which he wisely didn’t mention, because he was reckless but didn’t have a death wish per se.
“Ya look gorgeous, babydoll,” he croons, trying to soothe the ruffled feathers and actually managing it somewhat as well; Hanzo practically preens – in a discreet, underhanded fashion as he tilts his chin up haughtily and pushes his chest out further, making the rope he was bound with dig deeper into his pecs.
McCree half-groans half-laughs at the sight, hand falling carelessly between his legs to give the bulge of his cock a loving squeeze through his pants.
“Damn you’re gorgeous. Jus’ look at ‘em tits of yours.” He can see a faint flush suffusing Hanzo’s cheeks, and grins lopsidedly at the haughtily averted eyes. His pet loves and hates his vulgarity in equal measures.
McCree slowly turns the wrist of his prosthetic arm, fist well visible between them as he curls the leash around his knuckles once more.
“C’mere. You look delicious and I wan’ a piece of that. Winner gets the spoils and all that, ain’t ah right?”
He is delighted when Hanzo does move; obedient like a puppy as he shuffles forward, carefully keeping his balance what with his arms bound behind him.
McCree’ll never get tired of seeing this eagerness to serve and be used in this particular man.
“If ah didn’t know bettah, I’d say you’re enjoying your little predicament quite a bit,” Jesse practically purrs. He reaches out and finally touches what he caught himself for the evening; fingers warm and scratchy from gun calluses, as he unceremoniously cups Hanzo’s left pec and drags his thumb across that ever exposed nipple that will drive him wild one of these days. It’s plump and tan, and McCree wants to suck on it until it’s swollen and Hanzo squirms.
Hanzo doesn’t dispute it this time. His liquid eyes are fixed on McCree’s face in something that looks almost trance like. His lips fall open when Jesse drags his thumb across his nipple yet again – featherlight and tickling this time -, feeling it hardening eagerly for him.
“Slutty,” he comments, a giddy kind of euphoria spreading through his belly when Hanzo closes his eyes and looks like he’s trying not to bite his lips. He sways forward on his knees, and needily presses the smooth swell of his pec into McCree’s fondling hand.
When McCree tugs lovingly first at the sensitive nipple, then more insistently on the leash in his hand, Hanzo follows easily. Willingly. He strains upwards onto his knees, and follows the pull towards his captor, deliciously naked body pressing against Jesse’s clothed front. He lets his head fall back to expose neck and collar – puts himself on a fucking platter for McCree to sample just as he damn well pleases.
“Gorgeous,” McCree mumbles indistinctly. He drags fingers along the line of Hanzo’s jaw, then gently scratches through his neatly kept goatee.
“Your team needs to loose more often in trainin’ if that is what ah get for bein’ a good boy.” He cups the side of Hanzo’s face, thumb rubbing through the thick, greying hair at his temples.
Hanzo huffs and whispers something Japanese. It doesn’t sound flattering at all, but it makes McCree grin all the more.
“Ah think ah know a bettah use for that smart, little mouth of yours…” he promises, hand falling to his large belt buckle to open it. He doesn’t miss the way Hanzo’s dark eyes widen like a cat’s when she sees prey, and he can’t keep the smug grin from his lips.
Gorgeous, kept pet.
Cyberrat Writes 