Just completed live-write about cowcree and Hanzo 😀 be aware that this is a cowcree that is seen as an animal in that universe even though he’s human looking with cow ears and tail and horns.
The ranch could not have been abandoned for too long. The buildings looked still sturdy and well maintained; there was no overgrowth to be seen yet. Hanzo estimated that the owners had been gone for a week – maybe two.
He hadn’t had this much luck on his travels yet. The large yard between farmhouse and stables felt eerie without any of the bustling activity that one might imagine going on in rural areas as this, but it wasn’t anything that would deter him from a good night’s sleep under a roof. Since banishing himself from his clan he had come to appreciate the simple comfort of a sheltered sleep and maybe a day or two of rest.
There was a sharp wind howling around him, and he could feel the first droplets of rain on his exposed shoulder before slipping his arm into the sleeve and pulling the garment up properly, foregoing easy reach of his arrows for warmth.
He was just about to turn towards the farmhouse and seek a way inside when he heard it under the din of the brewing storm: a deep, helpless braying that made him stop and reconsider. He was eying up the dark stables when it sounded again. A little louder and more desperate. Desolate.
Had one of the hapless animals been left behind?
Hanzo hesitates, shoulders pulling up minimally against the sharp bite of the wind, then makes up his mind. He’s been out alone in the streets long enough by now to know how much a little kindness can go.
As he makes his way towards the pitch black building, head ducked against the rain getting stronger, he reassesses his earlier estimate of the estates abandonment. He doesn’t think an animal could have survived two weeks without anybody to look after it. He also wonders what actions had led the owners to flee so hastily that they would have forgotten one of their darlings.
He slips his lantern off of his belt as soon as he is beneath the short roof, eyebrows drawn together as he lights it carefully, lifting it high so the flickering light can reach as many corners as possible as he makes his way inside, one hand on his bow – just in case.
The stables still smell alive: of warm bodies and dung. In here, the howling of the wind isn’t as loud as it has been a moment ago, and the pattering of the rain seems more romantic than threatening.
He also can hear the rustling of dry hay and straw better – as well as the low huffing of another creature that leads him farther down the corridor, past abandoned bays on one side and strange machinery on the other.
He doesn’t hide his steps but they are still soft enough that the creature doesn’t hear him until the very last second – which is when it brays again, unhappy and loud enough to make Hanzo wince and get his ears ringing.
“Easy now,” he murmurs. He feels unfit to give comfort – it is not in his nature; but it is easier to give to animals all the same.
He carefully places the lantern on the corner of the box to have his hands free and better assess the situation.
Someone has bound the creature to a stake in the corner and as far as he can tell he’s been struggling for a while now: there are deep gorges in the soil underneath and his hands are bloody. As Hanzo watches, he tries to turn around to get a look at him, but the harness around his head is damnably stable and he doesn’t have the understanding in his dilemma to make a step forwards and give himself more slack in the rope tethering him.
His spotted, large ears are flicking, the long, thin tail lashing like a whip. He’s a pretty boy in Hanzo’s opinion. He doesn’t have a lot of knowledge of cattle but the cow seems sturdy and healthy. A gorgeous animal if it weren’t for the bloody wounds he inflicted upon himself in his desperation.
“There, there. I’m going to help you,” he murmurs, taking another cursory glance around and carefully setting his bow and quiver to the side. It wouldn’t do for the animal to accidentally break any of his equipment.
He stops struggling when Hanzo comes closer, large brown eyes watching him as the archer carefully hunkers down and studies the rope and the harness around the creature’s head. His cheeks are bloody from the leather straps and the corners of his mouth look infected from the bit but he doesn’t seem worse for wear.
“There you go.” Hanzo reaches for him, fingers brushing through the shaggy beard and then up into the unruly mop of hair to rub between the small horns and then the large, flicking ears. The animal huffs, eyes immediately going heavy lidded as he lowers his head for more petting. “That’s it. I’m going to free you and you are going to stay nice and still.”
As he speaks, his gaze wanders down. There’s a thick leather band with a name plaque around the cow’s throat. From it, a golden little bell dangles that chimes lovely with his every moves.
“Jesse McCree,” Hanzo reads and smirks when one of the floppy ears flicks at the name. “Good boy, Jesse.”
He talks to the cow as if he were a dog but nobody is here to witness his idiocy anyway. Jesse doesn’t seem to mind. He brays again – this time closer to a deep moo than an actual cry – and shifts, turning with the sturdy, wide hips to the side, eyes fixed on Hanzo’s face with a new kind of helplessness. It only takes a moment for the archer to understand what the animal was trying to show him: his udders were looking painfully swollen, squished beneath trembling, impressive biceps.
As he watches, a tiny dribble collects at the dark, puffy tip of one teat and drops down into the hay.
“Oh,” Hanzo murmurs, eyes riveted by the sight – thinking of the machinery outside… milking machines…- and can’t help but just stare as Jesse moos again, a pained tinge to the sound that seemed to have nothing to do with his bloody fingers and the pain of the harness tethering him to the stake.
“They really did forget you, didn’t they? Poor thing. I can… I mean – I can try to help you.” He reaches out for him as he speaks, a low inane murmur that would set his teeth on edge had he realized what he was doing.
The cow holds still, tipping his chin up, obviously anticipating Hanzo to help him with a kind of desperate affection. His tail is flicking left to right like a pendulum, the dark brown tuft on its end swishing through the straw in the box, adding a soft rustling to the rain drumming against the roof and the wind howling outside.
Hanzo had no idea what he was supposed to do. He would not have thought the sight of those swollen, milk-filled teats would hit him the way they did.
The cow was surprisingly hairy; a good fleece of fur across his pecs – his udders, Hanzo thought with a wave of heat lapping through him – and warming up the soft, generous valley of his stomach.
As Hanzo’s gaze was pulled down towards it, he couldn’t help but notice what else the animal had more than enough of – his mouth becoming so very dry as he stares at the cow’s cock, hanging big and soft between strong, thick thighs.
Heat crawls up his throat and settles pounding and embarrassing in the very tips of his ears. He tries not to stare, but now that he’s seen it swing heavy and tantalizing with the fidgeting movements of the cow, he can’t stop noticing it; how the thick head is perfectly outlined underneath the foreskin. How thick the shaft is.
His hole clenches in sudden, primal want and he feels sick – and stupidly excited – for even considering this.
Hanzo has to swallow a few times to stop his tongue from sticking to the roof of his mouth, then wrenches his gaze away to look back at the problem at hand; Jesse holding perfectly still, practically vibrating on the spot as he waits for Hanzo’s outstretched hand to make contact, to soothe, to help.
The poor, stupid animal doesn’t know that Hanzo had no idea what to do.
The skin is almost feverishly hot to the touch and painfully taut. Jesse makes a sound half bray half whine as Hanzo carefully touches the swell of his udder and then slides farther down with the tips of two fingers, his hand stupidly shaking as he inches towards the swollen, dark mound of his teat.
It, too, is damnably hot to the touch but the skin feels tender. Silky. Velvety as Hanzo carefully starts rounding it with a minimal amount of pressure. He can feel sweat prickling the back of his neck as he inches closer towards the straining, shivering animal, one hand coming up to brace himself against Jesse’s shoulder.
As he massages the dark areola, another dribble of milk emerges – only a few drops that Hanzo gathers on the tips of his fingers and rubs into the taut surrounding skin.
Jesse’s mouth has fallen open around the bit, tongue almost lolling out underneath the weight of the metal. Those gentle brown eyes are unfocused as he waits for Hanzo to keep going and do something.
Hanzo lets out a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding and carefully, experimentally pinches the soft teat between his fingers, trying to squirt the milk out like this – and only managing to make Jesse tense up and bray again in dismay, his back rigid and his tail lashing once.
Quickly, Hanzo lets go, his cheeks hot with another flush – this time of a whole ‘nother kind of embarrassment.
Trying another tactic, he presses the heel of his hand against the swollen pec, pressing and pushing – trying to work the milk out like that. He doesn’t even get a droplet for his effort, only a cow that is more than unhappy with the proceedings, trying to turn away and flicking at him hard with the strong tail.
“Shh, shh,” he tries to soothe nervously, one hand holding the rope tethering Jesse to the stake, the other rubbing between his small, sturdy horns and the annoyed flick of his floppy ears. “I don’t want to hurt you. It’s just that I don’t know how to work the machines-”
He stops and considers, staring into the bloody, unhappy face of the cow, heat pooling low in his gut as an idea starts to form.
.o.
It has been hard to coax Jesse to lay down on his side – the cow had not understood what he wanted of him for the longest time, throwing him strange, put-upon looks as he pushed insistently at the thick hip – but at last he was in the straw and let Hanzo push his arm to the side for better access.
They were both happy with the decision now that He finally could go to work, mouth wet and needy as he latches onto one brown, puffy nipple and soothes it with his tongue.
He thinks, blearily, that he had to learn how the machines outside worked. That he needed to see Jesse standing still as his teats got suckled by the mechanical suction cups.
He couldn’t deny that there definitely was something to say about this, though. He felt horribly filthy as he suckled on the animal’s teat, mouth greedy and nose buried against the taut swell of Jesse’s udder. He was suckling like a babe, relentless and strong, and the noises Jesse made were egging him on shamefully. Low, groaning sounds that had nothing to do with moos. They almost sounded human. His little bell was chiming sweet and innocent whenever he moved, his tail thumping strong into the straw behind him.
His bloody hands were up at his shoulders which he pulled slowly back the longer Hanzo fed on him. He was offering his chest up, Hanzo realized dimly. This hapless animal was letting itself get serviced by the shimada heir.
The first pulls of milk were almost sour – enough so to make Hanzo pull back and spit out the warm mouth full, face tight and disgusted – but it slowly improved; becoming sweet and creamy on his tongue until he had to make a conscious effort to breathe in sharp little bursts through his nose, throat bobbing with eager swallows as he filled his belly with the warm, fresh milk.
Jesse’s fur tickled at his nose and the corner of his mouth, and Hanzo loved every second of it as he pressed his tongue hard against the silky skin of the teat and coaxed more droplets out of it.
He eventually pulled back, the back of his hand wiping over the mess of his mouth, beard soaked with Jesse’s milk. He was just about to dip back down and try whether he’d get another feeding from the other side – when his gaze landed on Jesse’s erection, standing fat and sturdy from between his quivering thighs, the deliciously wide head that Hanzo had noticed earlier already pushed half out of the meaty foreskin. It was dark and glistening with pre-cum and so tasty looking Hanzo almost doubled over from the acute stab of want sizzling through his belly.
“Oh…” is all he says, dumbfounded, staring at Jesse’s flexing cock as milk drips from the apex of his goatee.
“Oh.” He says again when he slowly reaches for it – like he can not possibly help himself when presented with such a magnificent cock, no matter that it belongs to an animal; one which is lying with his head back, chewing slow and content at the bit.
Jesse is lax and satisfied and doesn’t look like he is even aware of the throbbing, thick shaft until Hanzo curls his hand around it, feeling embarrassingly excited when he can’t close his fingers around the girth of it.
“I guess I have to milk you everywhere, don’t I?” he whispers, voice rough and deep and belly craving that extra bit of cream.
The wind has calmed down outside but the rain is still going strong, but here in Jesse’s stable it is almost stiflingly hot. Hanzo feels sweat prick under his arms and roll down the dip of his spine. His thighs clench together as he leans over Jesse’s hairy belly and stares at the cock in his hand angling it up towards his swollen lips.
They feel tender after all the suckling. Almost a little raw. He wonders dimly how Jesse’s teats must feel after being painfully full for so long and then getting milked dry with uneducated, greedy pulls of a hungry mouth.
Hanzo feels embarrassed that he still isn’t sated. That even after he can feel his belly sloshing with Jesse’s warm, thick milk, he still craves more cream. More to fill him and keep him warmed through the night.
His tongue is the first to touch the fat tip, cushioning it almost lovingly before his upper lip drags slow and silky along the skin, then pushes up, making the foreskin roll back and expose Jesse’s glans.
He can vaguely sense the chubby belly underneath his bracing palm tensing, but his attention is on the cock slowly slipping further into his waiting, wet mouth, warm and still sweet from the cow’s milk.
Jesse moos softly. It sounds almost confused. Curious. Hanzo feels his cheeks burn and he clenches his eyes shut, pushing farther down, taking more of Jesse’s cock. He groans when the sheer girth stretches his lips and makes the corners of his mouth burn. He can’t remember the last time he’s been able to play with a dick this thick. This sturdy.
He holds it steady with one hand, helping himself to fuck his mouth onto Jesse’s cock, tasting the sharp, animalistic salt of pre-cum explode on his tongue. His belly clenches as he thinks about what he’s doing. How he’s sucking this dirty animal’s cock, licking it greedily deeper into his mouth until the wide head is nudging at his soft palate; threatening himself to let it slip farther down. Make himself choke on it.
Jesse’s hips flex once, strong thighs falling open wide, giving him all the access he could ever want.
He can hear the soft, melodic chime of Jesse’s bell as he pulls back up, slurping noisily, breathing hard through his nose.
The hand holding Jesse’s cock slips farther down, curling around his balls, the sac feeling as hot and swollen as his udders had felt earlier. How long has it been since Jesse had been able to shoot off?
Hanzo’s thumb presses into the soft, loose skin between the orbs, then rubs across them. Testing. Anticipating how filled they might be. How much Jesse’d be able to fill him yet.
There’s a thicker burst of pre-cum splashing on his tongue, nearly making him choke. It is also the only thing alerting him to Jesse’s sudden orgasm, his balls jerking in Hanzo’s slack grip, pulling up towards his body, pulsing in time with the cock in his mouth-
He is drooling in anticipation, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth in sheer want of Jesse’s cum. The tips of his ears are throbbing with blood, hot and shameful as he slurps and bobs his head and finally – finally – tastes the first rope of cum splashing against his tongue.
He slips farther down, throat open, waiting for more – letting Jesse shoot down his throat in thick, copious pulses.
When he finally pulls back, he can’t help but cough a little, throat burning, lips slick with spit and pre-cum.
He feels too hot and sticky. Too full. His belly is sloshing with what he’s drank down tonight and he is sleepy like a babe.
Jesse lies stretched out, teeth clinking slow and happy against the bit. He looks content; and why should he not?
Hanzo wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and only manages to make more of a mess, cum and milk sticky in his dark beard.
He decides not to untether Jesse from the stake yet. He doesn’t want him to wander out and get lost in the night.
He thinks the cow might need a new caretaker.
Cyberrat Writes 